Christmas is a difficult time for the grieving. Let them grieve in their own way, but let them know you are willing to help them with things like decorating or baking. Take them shopping. Invite them to your holiday functions. Volunteer together at a food bank, collect for a charity or help in a soup kitchen.
Do not tell them to ‘get over it.’ Be willing to sit with them when they cry. Let them talk about their loved one. Send cards or letters. Phone or text often.
Why? Just because you can represent the loving care of Christ to someone who needs it.
My eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, Lord, every day; I spread out my hands to you. (Psalm 88:9, NIV)
Prayer-Father, help us help others through their pain, for so often, you have done the same for us. In Christ, Amen.
When I came back from working the afternoon Weight Watchers class, I found the house empty. In my ordinary life, Ron would have had a pot of potatoes on the boil and some kind of beef (his preference) on the BBQ. I’d push for a vegetable and maybe a salad and we’d each eat a little of the other’s choice, secretly grateful for our own.
But today, there was silence and me. As women do, I’ve been eating the stuff in the fridge that is close to expiry date or that has been sitting too long. I decided on poached eggs. I like them; Ron didn’t. An egg meal meant I’d cook his scrambled or whatever, first….not because he demanded it , but because that is how women love. We feed others and then ourselves. That meant that my meal tended to be on the cool side. I didn’t notice nor really care..
So I poached up those eggs. They were the best I’d ever eaten. Hot, seasoned perfectly. And I cried, because I’d willingly eat cold eggs forever…if only I could have my Honey here.