on grief & being human

The title flashed before my too-bright, too-consuming phone screen. "What to Say (and Not Say) to a Grieving Friend" it read. Promising me what I, and so many, want: a guidebook on how to navigate the complicated path of grief.

I've been seeing a lot of such lists lately. Comforting words to speak and annoying phrases to avoid. All these tools, while helpful in certain respects, leading the reader to believe that grief and comfort in grief can be reduced to checklists. Giving us hope that if we just have the right words all of the awkwardness and complications and questions of grief will resolve themselves.

This reduction gives us a false promise and a promise we actually don't want. It makes us less than human which is to say it makes us less complicated, less mysterious, less glorious. 

We are not machines, not pieces of technology that need only re-wiring or specific codes. We are brilliant and broken, mysterious and unknowable, living and complex. We are full of stories and personalities and heart. 

And the way to be around other such creatures is in awareness and acceptance of such mystery. It is when we set aside the checklists and embrace the complexity that we can navigate each step with the Holy Spirit who knows us, even when we are frustratingly and gloriously mysterious to others and ourselves.