We all survive differently

This speaks truth to me so much.   Rather than judge someone for not grieving in a particular way,  why not show a little grace and just love them?   I recall a Sunday School lesson where the teacher passed around pieces of blank paper and pens.   She asked us to write down one thing that we were struggling with.  Like something big.   No names were required.  It was simply trusting that momentarily,   by  jotting down our burden,   we would find a moment of release.    I think I wrote about my longing and aching for a child after being barren for nearly seven years of marriage.    This was my struggle, the pleading with God to let my dream come to fruition.   

We slipped our folded up notes into a basket and passed it forward.    The teacher then said,  "I'm going to read some of these aloud." There were tear filled eyes as she read things such,

"I would like a friend,  it has been so lonely since my husband of 82 years passed." 

  " I am searching for peace in an abusive relationship, I want my kids to feel safe and loved." 

"Just got passed up for a promotion......again.....what is wrong with me?"  

"Would  like to mend my relationship with my mother after being no contact for 10 years. 

"Just found out my husband has been lying about our finances. We are on the verge of bankruptcy."

"Just discovered pornography on my husband's laptop."

You get the idea.  Some of the circumstances we knew regarding certain individuals,  while others we were left to imagine. Needless to say,  it was heart breaking.   Then the teacher asked us to imagine taking one of these other struggles instead of our own.   I, immediately shrank at the idea.   I would not want to be in someone else's situation.    Mine, although undesirable, was my grief and my teacher.   I realized I didn't want anyone else's problems. This was my personal Gethsemane.  

The whole idea is that we all grieve in different ways.   Let us extend an arm of mercy and grab one another's hand as we love (without judgement) through our sorrows.   Life is painful enough without a heaping serving of shame to accompany it.