We were perusing the clothing racks at Wal-Mart when my aunt asked me, “Why don’t you pursue counseling?” The discussion was centered on my next steps as I was wrapping up my second and final year at a small bible college that only offered a two-year program.
It wasn’t a terrible idea. I’d enjoyed my past couple of summers, working with other young campers as their camp counselor and then as a mentor for a whole team of other student counselors, my freshman and sophomore year respectively.
After considering a couple of other schools and programs, I finally settled on one in Indianapolis that offered an “urban ministry” experience. It wasn’t at all what I had expected but it gave me a solid foundation on the things I did and did not want to be a part of my counseling services should I continue that route.
The focus of the program was a biblical perspective and framework for counseling. The Bible still informs my worldview as a Christian though my perspective has shifted dramatically over the years. More on that another time. For now, where I’m going with this is to say the Bible has some beautiful words of wisdom to offer. One such anecdote is a passage where Paul is addressing the Corinthian church when he blesses God and says, “Blessed be 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 have received from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NIV)
The picture is spectacular: a people comforted who in turn share the same comfort to comfort others. It’s a beautiful cycle that is described here. It reminds me of a recent article I read in the Washington Post about a survivor of attempted suicide. The young lady was ready to jump off a bridge when passersby saw her and confronted her with the words, “You are worth so much more than this.” The article reports that she returned the next day with that same message on written notes which she stuck to the bridge. She has returned to the bridge many times since to stick other encouraging messages on it in hopes that the messages will help others. It is this same cycle as pictured in Paul’s words addressed to the Corinthians.
It is a cycle critical to our survival and well-being as we navigate the human experience. In our troubles, we need the experience of being comforted by others - and as part of that healing journey - to participate in encouraging others too. I consider this and my own journey through my grief. It is one I’ve participated in as the comforted as well as the comforter offering consolation.
I recently decided to see a counselor. I think it took me a while because of my own counseling background and a bit of pride that told me perhaps I could comfort myself through my grief. Sometimes we can. This is not the time, though. I need to be comforted and this is not an instance in which I can double as the comforter too. In other ways, sure, I’ve already experienced counsel and comfort from my faith, friends, and family. These are additional sources of comfort and entirely necessary at this point in my grief journey. Like that girl on the bridge that day, I need that outside voice coaching me off the ledge of hopelessness.
In a recent conversation with a good friend, we were discussing this concept. After a stint of time apart we’ve recently reconnected and have been discussing life as we’ve experienced it especially in this last year and a half. In discussing the incredible challenges we have all faced, we were sharing about the dangers of isolation and doing life alone. We both strongly feel community is incredibly important in our collective and individual mental/spiritual/physical health. “People need people,” we now reiterate to each other.
Remember the woman from the article I mentioned earlier? She said of the things the individuals spoke to her the day she decided not to jump, “If those words could help me, who else could they help?” She was thinking of this cycle of comfort that she had herself benefited from a mere day prior.
For me, some of the healing has already begun. I’ve begun writing again, for instance. This has been an incredible source for processing my grief journey. Recently, I’ve gotten to a place where I feel compelled to share this part of my journey with others. Not because I feel as though I’ve arrived.
Toni Morrison once said, “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” This is no book (though, there may be one day!) but in many ways, these are things I wish someone was sharing with me. The truths of how hard the journey really is but also that there can be hope and light even in the darkness, even when we don’t want to acknowledge it.
This project - a newsletter with the pieces of writing I’ve composed as I process my experience - is a result of this idea of the cycle of comfort. I’m still reeling from the pain of losing my father - and really so much this last year and a half. As I collect the counsel and encouragement I receive along the way and put it into words on paper as I process, I wonder, “If those words can help me, who else can they help?”
I’m happy to share this latest piece, “Eventually.” It speaks to the ways in which one can feel the tension between the living and the dead. Sometimes it can feel as though getting on with life, as usual, is impossible now that you’ve experienced this incredible loss. One begins to view life through two lenses, the before the bad thing happened and the after. It seems for those who’ve experienced incredible loss and grief that there can be no return to life as it was in the before. There is only the after and we have no idea how to navigate this space without experiencing many mixed emotions of guilt and joy and impatience and relief and sadness and happiness too. “Eventually” echoes the hope that the longer we spend in this time after the bad thing happened, we do begin to experience life again - eventually. We can more easily navigate this space - life after loss - eventually. There is no timeline but our own and each grief journey is unique. There is still hope that exists for all who wander and this truth is getting me through.
Check out “Eventually” below.
Best,
Laura Victoria
Eventually
I don’t know how it happens
Just that eventually
it does
There will come a time
though I don’t know exactly when
When you’ve traveled far enough
When Time has put enough distance
Between you and the initial blow
the impact forcing your breath out
You begin to move on from the loss
Of that someone who you thought
you could never live without
You begin to feel again
however light
the pulsing of your blood
your heart beating again
Life fills in the places
they once took up
The longing fades little by little
The thought of them
carries less sadness
The mention of their name
causes less pain
It will not mean
all has been set right
The sun will still shine or not
the moon too
And neither will concern themselves
And they should not
with what you need it to do
You will have to learn
or have already
The world will not stop or turn
Just because you will it so
The world at large will carry on
Without your permission to do so
No need to be brusque or impatient
Time will take care to ensure
Life will go on for you too
Eventually
This was beautifully written.
Beautiful!