There seems to be a tendency of some to compare our grief with that of others.  I recently saw a post on social media which stated, "I have been divorced and lost a spouse and the most difficult grief was the death."  In the midst of fresh grief, the grief we are experiencing always seems to be the most profound.  As I have thought this over, it dawned on me this is one contest I do not care to win.  The medal of suffering has a sharp pin which pierces our hearts over and over every day as we put it on.  It would be easier to decline the medal and embrace the mediocrity of less pain.

  If I were to create a scale of loss (which I would never presume to do), the loss of a child would always be at the top.  Loss and the grief of loss is  individual and until the day we learn to jump into the skin of another---we have no ability to gauge the degree of pain and the suffering endured by another.

Thinking of Job and the loss he endured, perhaps I will give him the winning edge-after all he truly lost it all----OR did he?  He lost his wife, his children, his livestock, his health, his wealth--you name it and Satan stripped it all away.  AND BOY---did Job grieve--he deserved to sit and grieve if anyone ever did.  BUT--Job did not loose God--he questioned God--he called out to God--but Job never turned from God and God was always present.  All that he lost and more were restored to him after Satan was sent away. BUT keep in mind--his family-the same family who died were gone and Job had to learn to live with the grief of their loss.  He took the next step and continued to live his life---but while material goods can be restored his family that was had been forever altered.  Job bravely took the next step, but the void created by the loss of his family would never change.  A new family does not take the place of the old family.

So rather than compare, perhaps we would be better suited to draw along side those who are grieving and sit with them in their grief.  There are no good words of healing ever--for those who are grieving.  There is the comfort of presence and knowledge of support.  An outstretched hand to help with the next step speaks volumes.  Job had to get up and take his next step to continue on with life.  His "friends" attempts at talking him out of his grief were for naught.  Job ultimately turned to God and God gave him answers.  Then Job managed to get up and take the next step. And the day after the first step, perhaps he took two steps.  With God's help, Job stood up and faced the future by taking just one step at a time.

God created us to suffer when we experience loss--whatever that loss may be.  God does not want us to become mired in the pit of martyrdom.  He is cheering us on as we bravely take the next step in our own good time.  Life may be forever altered, but life can still be joy filled.  The path to joy begins with one step.  I pray we are all courageous enough to take that most important first step.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
II Corinthians 1:3-4


  1. Dear Lulu ...

    This, oh, this ...'The medal of suffering has a sharp pin which pierces our hearts over and over every day as we put it on.'

    Each grief is individual and deeply personal. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us here.

    A hug for you, my friend ...

    1. And I learned from Job--life does go on--it will just look different.
      Blessings, Friend!

  2. All I can add is, very well said. And I'll pass on that pointy ended medal too. I've known too much grief to want any more or wish it on anyone else.
    Hope you have a blessed day. ~:)

    1. I would not wish it on my worst enemy, Sparky!

  3. Misery is like the joke that goes: "if you ain the lead dog, the scenery never changes"... Mired in misery unfortunately is like that, the scene never changes.


Your comments keep my writing and often cause me to think. A written form of a hug or a pat on the back and an occasional slap into reality---I treasure them all!