Grieving invites the reader to understand the universality of grief, its various expressions, and the depth of emotion experienced within it. In grieving the loss of loved ones, jobs, reputations, and numerous other things, we may begin to doubt the faith that has upheld us throughout our trials. In doubting, though, we open ourselves to further growth by inviting God to share our pain and sorrow and to help us in renewing ourselves in Him. In the first part of this guide, called "The Retreat" author J. Catherine Sherman offers a deeper understanding of the painful emotions that develop as part of grief, the facets of the journey through the grieving process, and the acceptance that our anger at God may be more typical than we realize. The second part, called "The Journey" presents an examination of the process of grieving, moving through anger, doubt, trust, and eventual surrender to the situation as it stands. Depicted in vivid imagery, these passages transport readers to a place of meditative exploration of grief. Through thoughtful reflections and resolutions, we are able to take steps into understanding the struggle while moving beyond the initial anger with God or doubt of His love for us and our loved ones.

GRIEVING

INVITING GOD INTO MY PAINBy J. Catherine Sherman

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 J. Catherine Sherman, PhD.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-6762-6

Contents

Preface......................................................ixIntroduction.................................................xiiiPART I—THE RETREAT.....................................1Fighting the Inevitable......................................3The Process of Grieving......................................9Stages of Grieving and Our Relationships.....................12The Power of Grieving........................................17An Improbable Mission........................................19From Retreat to Pilgrimage...................................20PART II—THE JOURNEY....................................23A Moment in Time.............................................25Destruction..................................................30My Retreat...................................................35Choices......................................................39Sanctuary....................................................43Currents.....................................................47Coming Home..................................................52Surrender....................................................57Conclusion—We Continue.................................61References...................................................63About the Author.............................................65

Chapter One

Fighting the Inevitable

For all of us, at one time or another, life presents situations that are beyond our control. We are confronted with obstacles and sometimes, these obstacles bring us face to face with realities we cannot comprehend. How does one cope with the death of a child, the loss of health, the debilitation of aging? How does one cope with losing a house, a salary, a position of respect in a profession? Like others who have suffered and struggled through such crises, these painful and sorrowful experiences dug deep into my own being. And I fought them—valiantly! Where was my faith, my trust in the Lord?

In prayer, I began to travel that road of grieving, unprepared and unwilling, mourning a life I never imagined I would leave. Even though my faith told me differently, I knew I would be walking alone without the security I had come to assume. As different as this new life would be, I knew that I could only move ahead, onward to a life that was at once frightening and beguiling. The agonizing choices I had to make were deeply painful. Living with changes in my routine and watching as others distanced themselves from me was distressing. I was still a person, but I was treated like the damaged part of a whole. Whom did I have to blame?

I suffered the results of this choice: the anger and hostility, the blaming and the sorrow, the severed relationships—this world that was so foreign to me. I also began to wonder at this person I was becoming. I was a life coach, I held an advanced degree. I was well-versed in relationship skills. I supervised others learning these skills. Yet, these very skills I knew so well were absent in my life.

With many years of experience in the field of life coaching, I felt like I was a stranger to myself turning away from the life of predictable and promised routine I knew, to face a life of loneliness. I had lost much in this decision—security, comfort, and stability—in a society meant for families and not for singles. More than anything else, I had lost my known self. Our Lord's words to St. Faustina, "Jesus, I trust in you," sounded profound, yet echoed in me, hollow and meaningless. Instead of providing me with reassurance, these words, a true profession of faith, uttered so frequently in the past, challenged me to find my connection to a God I felt had left me. What had once been a habitual prayer became an echo of the past.

I was disappointed in myself for allowing things to happen and frustrated by a situation that was so alien to me. My friends' lives seemed stable, yet mine fell apart. They continued to celebrate family traditions while I was propelled into a life I read about in novels—one of searching and stumbling to find a new identity. I was harder on myself than anyone else could be. I could barely face the grief. I was exhausted by the daily rush of tears from a lost life that plunged me into a state of seeking. I was awakened by the piece of paper declaring me an individual once again. Shadowed by the few who could help me, I could only focus on the ones who deserted me, including my God Who had suddenly become quiet, distant, and seemingly unwilling to provide guidance for me on this journey.

Blind and deaf to the possibilities, I became angry at the reality. My time was spent seeking a place where I would be accepted as half of the whole, as a remnant of what was. I searched for meaning in a world that was meaningless. I needed a safety net, a haven for my soul that struggled through decisions and crises that eventually wore me out. I became someone who went through the motions, lacking desire or feeling because I was, as an afterthought, numb from the pain and trauma I experienced.

But, like others experiencing trauma from death, accidents, and health issues, the safety net did not exist as I imagined. The friends I wanted quickly disappeared as the reality of this new life emerged. Their silence was piercing. My memories of friendships were solidified into a past that would remain frozen in time. The laughter and friendship that formed from a couple's relationship became estranged when the couple was non-existent-only a pair of individuals. It was like being born into a past state of life—one I had imagined was gone forever.

Some colleagues I expected would rally to my side chose to walk parallel to me, perhaps questioning my choices and misunderstanding my decisions in light of my faith. Every attempt at making meaning would crumble—no explanations could satisfy me, no reasons for this change could calm me and no individuals could promise me that life would one day, be right again. My attempts to succeed would cause me to stumble—in finding a new home, a new purpose, and a new environment. My family would be redefined from those with whom I lived for years into strangers—now neighbors—now those with whom I share my memories, dreams, and sometimes, despair.

Could this truly be my life? Why was I in this place in time, alone and suffering? The more I sought to make sense of my failing relationships, the more I realized I had no control over anything. My prayers were empty, echoing in my heart and remaining unanswered, at least in my mind. Detachment began to define me—I clung to it in order to find myself. It has remained. In fact, it has defined me as a new person—one who is able to move forward without allowing the pains of the past to crush me. I pray it has evolved into love and gratitude for the gift of relationships. Gratitude places one in a position of humility awaiting the gift of presence. It does not seek response or commitment but lifts the many gifts of relationship to the Lord. In this state of gratitude, we seek the Lord's kindness and generosity to those who have gifted us with their friendship and trust asking for peace and joy for them without seeking selfish motives. Looking toward tomorrow, the memories do not shape my responses, but they draw me toward different possibilities in life.

For anyone with a...