Sad Happens: A Celebration of Tears

From the book’s website:

“When was the last time you cried? Was it because you were sad? Or happy? Overwhelmed, or frustrated? Maybe from relief or from pride? Was it in public or in private? Did you feel better afterwards, or worse? The reasons that we cry—and the circumstances in which we shed a tear—are often surprising and beautiful. Sad Happens is a collective, multi-faceted archive of tears that captures the complexity and variety of these circumstances.”

Not only is this book right up my alley as a Hospice Bereavement Counselor, but I am humbled to say that I have a piece included in this wonderful compilation alongside some really cool people like Hanif Abdurraqib, Matt Berninger, Phoebe Bridgers, Helado Negro, and Claire Rousay.

“Sad Happens is a collective, multi-faceted archive of tears that captures the complexity and variety of sadness, joy, love, a sense of community, and a host of other emotions. Available 11/14/23.”

  • Visit the book’s website

  • Order the book from Amazon

the Ghostbusters Tackle Grief

The other night we watched the 2016 Ghostbusters movie. I don’t know if you’ve seen it. It’s very funny. But that’s not really my point right now. Though, if you don’t believe me, here is the trailer:

My family enjoys this movie, but that’s not what I want to talk about.

I want to talk about grief. and about how the only way to get through grief is to grieve.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy must expend itself. Bad things happen when we bottle up our emotional energy. We can either explode and lash out at others. You know the saying: “Hurt people hurt people.” Grief hurts. Or, we can implode and direct that emotional energy back at ourselves in self-destructive thoughts or behaviors. Part of learning to deal with grief is learning how each one of us processes emotional energy in healthy ways.

The only way to get through grief is to grieve. That emotional energy must let itself out because it is our love with nowhere left to go. The only way to get through grief is to grieve. Just like in Pixar’s ‘Finding Nemo’ where the only way through the trench is “through it, not over it.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy exhausts itself.

Grief is not not the same thing as depression.

Grief comes and goes like waves. Depression is a constant heaviness that does not lift no matter the circumstances. The two often intertwine, but they are not the same. If you wonder if you might be experiencing depression, please contact a trained professional.

Grief is our natural emotional response to any significant loss or change.

Emotions are energy.

Energy exhausts itself.

The only way to get through grief is to grieve.

Back to Ghostbusters: there’s this scene where they’re testing out their new equipment behind the Chinese food restaurant where they rent office space.

Melissa McCarthy’s character Yates gets caught up in a laser beam that separates her from her footing and changes her direction and shakes her about just like grief does for so many of us. As she’s flailing about, Leslie Jones as Toran says: “I guess she’s not bending her knees enough, right?” This, of course is a reference to ate McKinnon’s Holzmann trying to ease Yates into all this by saying: “You’re going to want to plant your feet firm; bend your knees to compensate for the extra kick-back.”

You can’t plan for grief. You think you can, but grief is an emotional process that doesn’t care what preparations you’ve made. It will whip you about and leave you unsteady, but it does not control you.

Yates finally comes to earth only as Holzmann urges: “She’s doing a marvelous impression of a deflating balloon. We’ve just gotta let her ride it out until it’s out of juice.”

This is the grief process. “We’ve just gotta let her ride it out until it’s out of juice.” I wish I had different news for you, but the only way to get through grief is to grief. Pay attention to your emotions and how you process them.

2021 Wrap-Up :: This Is (sort of) About Jam Bands

The past couple of years have been hard for all of us. I started my Clinical Pastoral Education process in January of 2020 right before the Pandemic it. This was also right when I started working primarily as a Bereavement Counselor. As COVID tsunamied through our communities, I quickly transitioned to working from home. Normally, that’s fine. I have a big family, but I also have a private office, so I can actually focus on work.

But that also meant that my trips outside of the house greatly decreased. I have to go to my work office at least once a week to pick up and drop off mail, but other than that, I have to largely make excuses to get out of the house. And again, “normally", that’s fine for a home-body like me.

But I LOVE live music.

And, even with a large family, my wife and I make regular attempts to experience live. It is important to us. It is important to me. I can’t imagine life without it. Or at least I couldn’t. Until I had to. I saw two concerts in 2020, ending in February (TERRY RILEY!). I didn’t go to another live music experience until August of 2021 (NEKO CASE!). That’s a long time to go without live music; especially when (even as an Introvert), it’s something that energizes you.

And then, after seeing the terrific line-up of Lucinda Williams, Gov’t Mule, Avett Brothers, and and Willie Nelson, but before seeing Dead and Co., my wife and went to see Phish.

This post is not about what you think about “Jam Bands.” This post is about my experience at a Phish concert.

I love Phish. I love jambands. I love musical improvisation. I love being part of a group that is experiencing a once-in-a-life-time moment. The music will never be repeated again in that way. You can re-listen to it, but if you weren’t there, you weren’t there. It’s not the same. At least it doesn’t carry the same emotional weight. It might gain emotional weight as you re-listen in various stages of life, but if you weren’t there; you weren’t there.

My work as a pastor, a hospice chaplain, and as a bereavement counselor continually reminds me that life is fragile. It can’t be repeated. There are no do-overs (this is not about re-incarnation). One of the things I hear continually, time after time from the grievers I walk with is; I wish I’d spent more time with them; I wish I’d been more present.

In the words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

And seeing Phish live again for the first time in 20-something years forced this all upon me. There I was under the sunbaked stars with nearly 20,000 other people, most of all my wife, hearing music that would never be repeated the same way; experiencing a moment that was gone as soon as it was known. Such is life. Or, as Vonnegut might say, “So it goes,” or maybe “Hi Ho.” Whatever.

Live music, particularly any live music that incorporates improvisation is a reminder that life is about the here and now. If we spend all of our time focusing on the past, we will likely find ourselves bogged down with regret and sadness or glorifying our past; there’s no way I can ever live up to that again. Or, if we spend most our emotional time and energy thinking about the future, we (or at least I do) end up with nothing but anxiety.

But live music can help remind us that it doesn’t have to be that way. Whatever happened to us in the past; regardless of what we’ll experience once we exit the venue; there is the here and now. There is the band and the lights and the crowd and something special.

But that’s life, isn’t it? It might be a special moment, but it is special because it reminds us what is special about life. This is it. Do something. Do something for others. Create something. Protect something. Advocate for something. Get outside of yourself. Read. Write. Draw. Compose. Listen. Run. Hike. Explore.

“In a world gone mad a world gone mad There must be something more than this.”

Seeing Phish live again reminded me why I love live music. Because live music reminds me to love life.

FOOTNOTE (As it were):

This post is not about my favorite concert of 2021. I don’t generally like ranking things, but I’m comfortable pointing out if one stood out for me above others. So, if we’re talking about “that” concert for 2021, it was Erykah Badu. Seriously. If you haven’t had a chance to see her live, please do so as soon as you feel safe.


  • Browse my favorite albums of the year

  • Browse my “2021 Yearly Wrap-it-Up” which is really a ramble about seeing Phish

  • Browse my favorite books of 2021

  • Browse my favorite movies of 2021

  • Browse my favorite television of 2021

  • Listen to a nearly 5-hour very low quality mix of one song from each of my favorite albums of 2021 called “Soundtrack to the Collective Meltdown”


2021 Year In Review :: Favorite Television

As I mentioned in my movie roundup, I have a lot of kids, so a lot of my time is spent with kids. That doesn’t always leave a lot of time for other watchings, but here are three televisionings that really stuck out to me this year.

Like last year, my “favorite television” list includes Ted Lasso and Joe Pera. As I wrote last year, both shows were (for me), a shot of much-needed positivity.

But, to be honest, the show that stood out the most for me this year was a bit darker. Midnight Mass on Netflix captivated me on so levels. Regardless of what you think of vampire stories (SPOILER), this is a powerful allegory about spiritual abuse which is unfortunately quite timely.

Ted Lasso:

Midnight Mass:

Joe Pera Talks With You:


  • Browse my favorite albums of the year

  • Browse my “2021 Yearly Wrap-it-Up” which is really a ramble about seeing Phish

  • Browse my favorite books of 2021

  • Browse my favorite movies of 2021

  • Browse my favorite television of 2021

  • Listen to a nearly 5-hour very low quality mix of one song from each of my favorite albums of 2021 called “Soundtrack to the Collective Meltdown”


A Former Pastor's Guide to Entering Chaplaincy

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I pastored for about 15 years before resigning when my wife and I adopted four kids from foster care (you can read about that journey here). Part of what helped me make the transition from pastoring in a local church “back into the career pool” was finding my way in to chaplaincy.

Chaplains are typically ordained clergy working for non-religious organizations. The position gained prominence (if you can call it that) mostly through the role of military chaplains, though many people might have received a visit at some point from a hospital chaplain. My own experience has been as a hospice chaplain. I know others who serve as “workplace chaplains” serving employees at major corporations. I also know people who serve as chaplains to professional sports teams.

You might think of chaplains as “pastors for hire,” though that sounds much more crude than I mean it to be. But it’s sort of true. The term was originally associated with the Christian faith but quickly grew in to a multi-faith discipline. Chaplains provide spiritual support in professional contexts. Many chaplains have served as pastors, but chaplaincy is much different from pastoring (and this drives many pastors crazy).

Chaplains are not there to proselytize. Whatever your own faith background is your support system, not necessarily the patient’s belief system; it’s where you find strength, but it might not be where the patient finds strength. A chaplain’s role is, as much as possible, to help someone progress up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs through healing listening and spiritual support when requested. Our role is not to convert people before they die, or to “convert” them at all. The chaplain’s role is to meet the person within their own belief system to help them find comfort and strength. This is best done by providing space for the individual to birth their story. We are there to midwife their story. There is something powerful and healing about being able to speak honestly in a judgement-free space with someone who is simply there for you. This is not a criticism, but that is not always how pastors view their interactions with people. Pastors often believe that their role (because it is requested of them) to provide answers and to explain things; to help people “make sense of what’s going on.” This is not the role of the chaplain.

Chaplaincy is spiritual care. Chaplaincy is ministry. Chaplaincy is not only non-denominational, it is multi-faith. Chaplains are not there to explain everything or provide answers; chaplains are there to “companion” people through their difficult times. Most often, this means providing a safe space for people to talk about what they need to talk about without being corrected, judged, or directed.

As the covenant of the College of Pastoral Supervision and Psychotherapy says:

“We believe we should make a space for one another and stand ready to midwife one another in our respective spiritual journeys. Because we believe that life is best lived by grace, we believe it essential to guard against becoming invasive, aggressive, or predatory toward each other. We believe that persons are always more important than institutions.”

Chaplains provide spiritual and emotional support without directing the other person’s beliefs. And, since chaplains are not pastors (even though most are somehow ordained), their pastoral credentials are not sufficient. Most people who desire to pursue professional chaplaincy will need to pursue Board Certification. This is a process in which the candidate prepares an application packet, submits it to a certifying board and then sits in front of that board for an in-person interview. The board will then either certify the prospective chaplain or make recommendations. Many will pursue Board Certification as a Chaplain (though it is not required for every chaplain role) and this process begins with CPE.

Clinical Pastoral Education is an inter-faith, peer-reviewed learning process. It usually consists of 1600 hours of supervised and peer-reviewed learning. This includes 4 units which usually consist of 100-150 hours of supervised instruction/group learning and 250-300 hours of supervised clinical experience. This will also include “Case Studies.” Each program might require a different number of Case Studies (3-6 is typical per unit), sometimes also called “Verbatims.” Each student will document a patient encounter in as much detail as possible. This includes a section where the patient interaction is quoted “verbatim;” you write it out as clearly as you can recall including all dialogue. Your group will then offer constructive criticism of the interaction. The process requires humility and self-awareness and will push you in both.

It should be noted that not every CPE program offers Board Certification for chaplains. The most well-known CPE program is ACPE. If you want to be a hospital chaplain, this is the “go to” certification process. However, ACPE does not do Board Certification. Instead, they partner with the Board of Chaplaincy Certification Inc (BCCI). If you want to serve as a chaplain outside of the hospital context, I recommend the College of Pastoral Supervision and Psychotherapy (CPSP). ACPE will require that your clinical service hours be at an ACPE approved hospital. CPSP will often let you use your work hours (provided they’re appropriate) as your clinical hours. I have a lot of kids still in the home and ACPE just wasn’t a good fit for me. I work full-time as a Bereavement Counselor, and then I had to find time for my 250 clinical hours on top of that, including required overnight on-call shifts. It just didn’t work for this guy with a big family, but it is the most widely recognized program.

Once you finish your four units of CPE, then you sit before a board of your peers for certification. This process is not required for many chaplain positions, but it is suggested for job security and professional growth. I understand that this additional 1,600 hours on top of an MDiv (or whatever your ordination path was) may seem like an obstacle to many people. However, it has been a time of tremendous personal and professional growth for me. I spent 15 years as a “Pastor” and I’m just about to start my 4th unit of CPE. I feel like I’m just now beginning to understand how to offer spiritual support to people in a different way. I am so thankful for this process.

If you’re curious but not sure how to begin, the easiest way to find your way into chaplaincy is to find a small hospice in your area offering a PRN position. “PRN” technically means “Pro re nata” and is usually applied to prescriptions in a “just take as you need it” sort of way. It’s s a prescription, but only take it when you need it. This is a “PRN” chaplain. You are technically an employee of that company, but you only work when required. You will make visits to hospice patients, but this will also introduce you to the medical side of chaplaincy.

Most medical chaplaincies will require participation on IDG/IDT every other week. These are “Inter-disciplinary” groups or teams. Every other week, the entire care team including Doctor, Social Worker, Nurse/Case Manager, and Chaplain will gather together to modify the patient’s care plan. As a chaplain (particularly in the hospice context), you will be responsible for creating and implementing a spiritual care plan for the patient. Remember, our role is not to “convert” them but to help them find strength within their own existing belief system.

Chaplains are often former pastors, but they are not pastors. Chaplains are there to help people discover, communicate, and process their own understandings (“birth their stories”) of what’s happening to them. Chaplains are there to allow space for people to talk about what they need to talk about rather than directing them towards our own preconceived ideas.

There is so much more to be said, but for now I think leave off here. Please let me know your insights. Is there anything I missed or got wrong? Are you a chaplain? What has your experience been like? Are you also a former pastor? Was the transition from pastoring to chaplaincy difficult for you?

What else?

The Fundamentals of Grief

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Grief is an unfortunate reality. But we don’t like to talk about it. Possibly because so few of us understand grief and certainly because it makes most of us quite uncomfortable.

In my role as a Bereavement Counselor, there are certain themes that come up over and over again. I’ve internally labeled these themes as “the fundamentals of grief.” In other words, if we only have a couple of minutes together, these are the things you should know (feedback welcome).

Bereavement is the act of losing; we are bereaved of someone or something we love.

Grief is our natural emotional response to that loss.

Mourning is the public rituals we use to help process our grief (funerals, memorials, celebrations of life, wakes, etc.).

Grief is universal and unique.

Grief is something all of us will face. But no one will go through it in the same way. This means that there is no comparison and there is no timeline. No one will go through it in the same way or the same timeframe. No love is alike. No loss is alike.

Grief is not weakness. Grief is not a problem to be solved. Grief is not the enemy. And your grief does not need to be defended or explained. Grief is our natural emotional response to loss (bereavement).

Grief cannot be separated from, or be understood apart from love. Grief is evidence of our love (some say that grief is the price we pay for love). It is our love for someone special with nowhere left to go. It’s that feeling you get when you reach out for that someone special who has always been there, only to find that when you need them most, they’re no longer there.

Grief is our natural emotional response to that loss and change and grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time. We might feel relief that our loved one is no longer suffering while also feeling angry about the way things turned out while also feeling sad and lonely, while also feeling joy remembering some of the times we had together; all at the same time. Since grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time, it is often quite difficult to understand or make sense of.

Grief is an emotional process; not an intellectual process. Since grief is an emotional process, we cannot talk ourselves through it. There are no stages or steps to follow. Grief is not a problem to be solved. It is the emotional outworking of our love with nowhere left to go.

Emotions are energy.

We are holistic people. Since grief produces so many emotions (and since emotions are energy), grief can affect us physically. Some people report physical pain associated with their grief. Others will report “grief brain,” tending to forget things or report “fuzzy thinking.” Some people will report fatigue and sleep too much. Others will report anxiety and too little sleep. Some people will eat too much (usually for comfort) while others will report little to no appetite. Just as our emotional manifestations of grief will differ from those of other people, our physical responses will vary as well. No one will go through grief in the same way or in the same timeline.

There are no stages or steps. Eventually, those emotions; all that energy works itself out. The only way to get through grief is to grieve. The emotions will come and go like waves. Sometimes we’ll know what triggers them and sometimes we won’t. But grief is not the same thing as depression. Depression (as least as I’ve experienced it) does not lift whereas grief comes and goes and eventually subsides (though it may never completely go away).

There is much more to be said here, but these are the basic that I try to ensure everyone understands. What do you think? What would you add?


Wanda's Vision of Grief

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Disney/Marvel’s WandaVision has cast the cultural spotlight on something we all experience but don’t want to talk about. The series takes place in the Marvel universe after the events of Endgame.

Wanda Maximoff’s brother has been killed in battle. Her Love, Vision (a synthezoid made from vibranium) is also gone. Through flashbacks we learn about the bombing-death of her parents as well as the traumatic experiences of her youth.

Without giving too much away, Wanda, like most of us, never has quite the time to process her trauma and go through her grief, you know, with saving the world and all. Each unresolved loss builds on the next until the heaviness feels suffocating. And in the last episode, we learn that Wanda’s grief exploded (literally) in an unconscious attempt to protect herself. As the episode unfolds, we are privileged to a conversation between Wanda and Vision. And everyone’s been talking about “that quote” from Vision. But before we get to that, let’s set some context.

Grief is our natural reaction to any significant loss or change. Grief is an emotional process; our emotional response to that loss or change. Since it is an emotional process, not an intellectual process, we can’t talk our way out of it and there are not “logical steps” to be done. Instead, we must go through it; we must allow those emotions to run their course. And we must remember that emotions are energy.

And, when we lose someone we love, we can narrow our definition of grief even further because grief is inextricably tied to love. Grief is evidence of love. Grief is that feeling we get when we reach out for a special person when we need them the most, only to find that they’re no longer there. Grief is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go.

Or, as Vision so eloquently puts it: “what is grief, if not love persevering?”

Our relationship with our loved one doesn’t end. It just changes. Our relationship doesn’t end because our love doesn’t end. And grief is the outworking of that love with nowhere left to go; it is our emotions trying to work themselves out. Grief is us trying to make sense of what do with that love since its object is gone, and how to work through the resulting emotions.

I am thankful that a show with such a large platform is willing to openly wrestle with grief. It is something we will all go through, but it is something our culture doesn’t talk about. We don’t know what to say to someone grieving, and their outpour of emotion, so we either try to avoid them, offer empty platitudes, offer them a “fix,” or decide that it’s a good time to talk about ourselves. But if grief is the outworking of love, then certainly we can love each other enough to create safe spaces for one another to work through our grief.

WandaVision reminds us that we are not alone in our grief; and forces us each to ask what lengths we would go to had we the powers. Thankfully, WandaVision has helped bring this discussion to the light. Now it’s up to us to continue the conversation.

The Conflicting Emotions Of Grief

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As part of my role as a Bereavement Counselor, I have a list of people that I regularly keep in contact with. We start out with weekly phone calls and gradually taper off. I am not there to tell people how to grieve. These weekly phone calls are precious times to check in with people grieving the loss of a loved one. And I often start each weekly conversation in a similar fashion: I’ll ask about how you’re eating and sleeping, how’s your support system, and; where you’re at emotionally this week.

Grief is an emotional process. It is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go. Its object has been removed. The Muse is gone. Grief and love are interconnected and grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process to go through.

However, our culture does not equip us to really face and deal with our emotions. Somewhere along the way, many of us have picked up the idea that openly displaying our emotions is somehow a sign of weakness. I’ve got to be strong for others usually means shutting down our emotions, or only allowing them the freedom flow when we’re alone. Vulnerability is seen as weakness, but if you believe that crap, I suggest you just go read some Brené Brown.

And it’s not just that we’re taught to bottle up our emotions (which are energy, by the way), it’s that we are often not well equipped to even identify, much less respond to our emotions. That’s why I regularly ask people where they’re at emotionally this week. I encourage them to use feeling words and actually identify the emotions running through them.

One surprising realization for many people is that they are actually feeling conflicting emotions at the same time. They are angry and relieved. They are sad but hopeful. They are grieving but joyful. All at the same time. We contain multitudes. But we’re not taught how to navigate such deep waters.

Grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change.

For man people, grief is evidence of love; it is that love for someone special with nowhere left to go.

Grief is not a problem to be solved but a process to go through.

Grief is an emotional process.

And grief contains conflicting emotions at the same time.

Such turbulent waters require growing in self-awareness and practicing grace. We are often our own worst critics and that’s where things like timelines enter the grieving process for many. Why am I not further along? So we compare ourselves to others or judge or progress instead of letting the conflicting emotions inside of us unweave themselves from one another. Grief requires emotional situational awareness and the willingness to let go of understanding and let our emotions play themselves out. This is a painful process but we must accept that we can have conflicting emotions running through us at the same time.

Understanding that grief can contain conflicting emotions at the same time can also help us understand why it is that grief is both universal but unique. No one goes through grief in the same way because no one has the same story; no one has the same gumbo of emotional history.

So let’s give ourselves and one another some grace along the way.

I Can't Tell You How To Grieve, But I Can Be There With You

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One of the most difficult parts of my role as a Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice is when people ask me for advice. Somewhere along the line, many of us picked up the idea that there are certain steps that we can go through (this is likely due to the wide use of Kübler-Ross’ Five Stages of Grief). Though, I think much of the problem is that we believe that grief is a problem to be fixed.

Grief is not a problem to be solved, but a process we must go through.

In its grandest sense, grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change. You can grieve the loss of a job. You can grieve a divorce. You can grieve the pandemic. The problem we run into is that grief is both universal and unique. It is something each and everyone of us will face in life but no one processes grief in the same way.

The grief I most hear about in my work as a Bereavement Counselor is the loss of a loved one. In these cases, I think we can narrow our definition of grief to something like: Grief is evidence of love, or even more specifically: grief is love for someone special with nowhere left to go. Grief and love are inextricably woven together.

And since love is the source of grief, grief is an emotional process, not an intellectual one. It is not something we can think our way through; there are no steps to follow. We must allow our emotions to run their course. And since grief is love working itself out; grief is an emotional process:

  • There is no timeline. (if there is, it’s coming from you)

  • There is no comparison. (If there is, it’s coming from you).

Grief is universal and unique. It is something we all go through, but no one goes through in the same way. I know you want to know the next steps. I know you want to know when things will change. But I can’t tell you those things. The best I can do is walk through the valley of the shadow of death with you. I can companion you and I can watch for signs of unhealthy emotional processing, but I can’t tell you how to grieve.

For many of us, grief is also the process of self-discovery. Since grief love is the source of grief, and much of our self-identity is tied to our closest relationships, when we lose that someone, we lose part of ourselves. We must rediscover (recreate?) who we are now. Who are we without our person? I can’t answer that question for you. But I can walk through the valley of discovery with you.

I can’t tell you how to grieve. But I hope you fine someone who is willing to walk through it with you.

Sitting With The Brokenness (More About Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars)

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In 2019, I began exploring the idea of using Japanese art of Kintsugi as a metaphor for the grieving process.

At that time, I was serving as a Hospice Chaplain/Bereavement Coordinator/Volunteer Coordinator at a small hospice. Part of my job was offering ongoing grief support for the Bereaved. Much of the curriculum that I came across was either trademarked, overly religious for the groups I was leading, or just full of empty platitudes. So I started creating some conversation-starters for support groups on my own.

Somewhere during this time, I learned about the Japanese art of Kintsugi, sometimes known as “the art of precious scars.” If you’re not familiar with Kintsugi, you can read my original post or Google Kintsugi yourself.

Somewhere during this time I also began working through the idea that we must explore what it means to carry our losses forward with us in life in emotionally healthy ways. Kintsugi is a perfect metaphor for this. The mended pieces are beautiful because of their journey through brokenness.

Since that time, I have transitioned to serving as a full-time Bereavement Counselor for a large hospice. Day after day I talk to people trying to work through the grieving process. I have talked to hundreds, if not thousands of people fumbling their way through the loss of a loved one.

And I keep coming back to the idea of Kintsugi being a perfect metaphor for what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways. I am reminded of a quote by Anne Roiphe: “Grief comes in two parts: the first is the loss, and the second is the re-making of life.”

I can’t remember where I came across a description of the process a Kintsugi master might go through when someone would bring a broken piece to them. They would spread the broken pieces out on a blanket and sit in front of them. They would just sit with the brokenness.

This feels unnatural. We want to hide our brokenness. We want to fix it. But grief is not a problem to be fixed. It is a process to go through. If grief is love for someone with nowhere left to go, then it is not a problem to be fixed. It’s natural to mourn and cry out that this isn’t the way things are supposed to be; to admit that things feel broken.

Grief comes in two parts: the loss and the re-making of life.

And when those Kintsugi masters would sit with the broken pieces, they were not just sitting with the brokenness, they would pick up the pieces, and feel them; trace the edges, and they would begin to envision what the piece might look like after it’s mended. How its brokenness would become part of its story in beautiful ways.

As we acknowledge our loss and brokenness, we must learn to not dwell on the past (the loss); we acknowledge it and its pain, but we set our sights towards an emotionally healthy future (the re-making of life.). This will look different for everyone but I believe that kintsugi can help us understand what it might look like to carry our loss forward with us in emotionally healthy ways.


  • Read the preface piece to this post: Grief, Kintsugi and The Art of Precious Scars


You Can't Carpe Diem Without Memento Mori-ing

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A couple of months ago I was in a pretty bad car accident. My life didn’t “flash before my eyes,” but there was a moment I thought I was going to die. And that hangs heavy. Even months later.

Coming face-to-face with our own mortality is uncomfortable. There is power in the fragility of life. I will die. You will die. As Haruki Murakami says in Norwegian Wood: “Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life.” Memento Mori. “Remember that you will die.”

Of course there is the danger of becoming overly morose when one lives in the recognition of death. Some may even come to believe that life is futile. But the reverse is also possible. Living in the shadow of death can bring life.

I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase Carpe Diem, usually translated as “Seize the Day!” It appeared as a major theme in Dead Poet’s Society and those darn young people often try to translate it as “YOLO!” (“You Only Live Once”) while doing stupid things. But I don’t think that’s how Carpe Diem is meant to be understood. And I don’t think you can really Carpe the Diem without Memento-Mori-ing. In other words, we cannot “seize the day” without carrying the remembrance that death is ever present. Remembering death can help us savor life. In the shadow of death, life takes on new light if we let it.

In times of cultural grieving like we’re currently experiencing, it feels as though the heaviness of death can be oppressive. But it is my prayer that we can Carpe Diem because we Memento Mori. May the reminder of death compel to make the most of life.

Megan Devine: "How do you help a grieving friend?"

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Back in September of 2020, I posted a short video on the difference between sympathy and empathy by Brené Brown. That video has helped me tremendously in my work as a Bereavement Counselor.

The other day, my wife bought me the book It’s OK That You’re Not OK: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn’t Understand at a garage sale. I had not heard of Devine previously, but it looked like a helpful book for my line of work. After looking in to Devine some, I came across a video similar to Brown’s and just as helpful: “How do you help a grieving friend?”

From the video’s Youtube page:

“It's so hard to know what to do when your friends are hurting. The thing is, you can't cheer someone up by telling them to look on the bright side, or by giving them advice. It just doesn't work. Watch this video to learn the one thing that will improve all of your "I'm here for you" intentions, and be that supportive friend you most want to be.”


  • Visit the Refuge In Grief website

  • Follow Megan Devine at Twitter

  • Purchase It's OK That You're Not OK (Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture That Doesn't Understand) by Megan Devine at Amazon




2020 Year-End Cultural Thoughts

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I have never been more disenfranchised from “American Christianity” than I have this year (though the previous 4 years leading up to this are not far behind.).

I have watched as many family and friends have given themselves over not only to blind allegiance to one political party, but to conspiracy theories and the dehumanization of those who disagree.

The religious tradition I grew up in (vanilla wanna-be mega-church influenced by Focus on the Family) often implicitly carried with it the notion that “to follow Jesus was to be Republican,” but that heresy has never been louder than 2020. People claiming to be “Christians” have not only supported the most divisive, vulgar, criminal, sexually immoral, irreligious president of our time (who tear-gassed a crowd of protesters so that he could take a picture with a bible in front of a church or re-tweeted one of his supporters shouting WHITE POWER at people protesting systemic racism) and have called in to question the very election they were counting on, all while claiming that being asked to wear a mask to protect their neighbors is an “infringement” of their rights.

This year has crystallized the heart-wrenching fact that many people cannot tell the difference between Americanism and Christianity, and if you question them, they will say you are neither. “Pastors” are claiming persecution when all they’ve been asked to do is the bare minimum to look out for others. (Read my piece “Love Your Neighbor, Wear A Mask (Americanism Is Not Christianity)

Al Mohler has led other SBC seminary presidents in an ill-advised crusade against Critical Race Theory while allowing things like ESS (Eternal Subordination of the Son) to be taught in our seminaries. That, on top of a year when Mohler has refused to rename seminary buildings, he has been revealed to have supported chattel slavery, condemned Harriet Tubman, and admitted he has been influenced by the Lost Cause theory of the South. In his bid to become president of the Southern Baptist Convention, he has wholeheartedly given himself to the Republican Party without apology. (Read my piece “MLK, Trump, "White Moderates", Abortion, And Christian Witness In America”)

And all the while, we have seen the emboldenment of (White) Christian Nationalism erupt like Mount Vesuvius. The “Proud Boys” ripped BLM flags off of churches while the police stood by and anyone who believes in Systemic Racism is apparently a Marxist and hates America. (Read my piece “Nationalism is Anti-Christ” // from 2019).

And it’s hard to understand why so many “Evangelicals” continue to endorse this lying, conniving, sexual assaulting, conning, grifting president. The only answer can be that many American Christians have felt their position of cultural influence slipping away. Why else would you be mad if the grocery cashier doesn’t say “Merry Christmas” or if there are nativity scenes on public property? But these are the very things “pastors” like Robert Jeffress (whose church trademarked the “hymn” Make America Great Again) claim to be persecution. (Read my piece “The False Persecution Complex of American White Evangelicals” and yes, this one was technically from 2019).

I don’t know what 2021 will hold, but I don’t see the waters of Evangelicalism calming any time soon. And this makes me thankful and hopeful. God’s Church will prevail and not even Christian Nationalism, MAGA, or a sexual-predator, White-power president overwhelmingly supported by White Evangelicals will change that.

Untitled Poem For Grievers

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It doesn’t take much
for me to lose myself in grief;
the hurt of loss and the fog of loneliness
wash over me until I don’t know where I begin.

The waves come and they go,
the tides seem random (but they’re not)
sometimes its:
the scent he used to wear,
the song she used to love,
the rhythm and jangle of everyday life
the shadow in the corner eye.

And the waves come
And the waves go
And sometimes I don’t know where I am
And sometimes I don’t know where to go
tossed and battered
wounded and scarred
but still hoping to still be hopeful.

And as the tide swallows itself
I’m left with the song,
or the scent,
or the pain of life without you,
And I know
that this feeling
is my love for you
with nowhere left to go.

So please remind me of our connection
and give me something to hold on to.

And as the tide retreats,
I exhale the emptiness
and breathe in our love
and my heart can again see the light.

Though you’re gone,
You’re not.
You are always with me.
We are always together.
It’s just different.

It doesn’t take much
for me to get lost in our love
because though you’re gone,
that’s still where I find myself
and I’m no longer lost.

Even in the waves, 
I know 
that our love
remains my anchor.


  • ©Brent Thomas, 2020


What Is A Heart With Ears? (The Discipline of Active Listening)

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Yesterday, I wrote down some thoughts on my personal transition from serving as a Pastor to serving as a Chaplain. One of the biggest differences for me has been the emphasis on listening. This is not to say that there aren’t pastors who listen well. Of course they are.

But my own experience has been that pastors are often expected to not only listen well but to have all the answers; to “fix it.” Therefore, many pastors don’t end up listening all that well because they are internally trying to flip through their catalog of answers as you’re talking. Maybe this was just me. But I doubt it.

Chaplains usually have limited interactions with people and therefore must make the most of each encounter, because it really might just be our last. So chaplains must learn to immediately express empathy and trustworthiness and at the same time, somehow convey that this is a safe space. I am no there to fix your problems or to steer you in any direction. I’m just here to let you say out loud whatever it is you need to say.

I have people tell me about their marriages. I have people tell me about their siblings, their pasts, their loneliness, their bitterness, their regrets, their fondest memories. I have learned to be OK with not directing my conversations.

Yesterday I mentioned how one of my co-workers describes our job as learning to be “hearts with ears.” As I opined yesterday, it is not my job to fix your problems. It is my job to help you process them yourselves as you talk out loud. It is my job to listen.

It is my job to listen.

Shhh . . .

Quiet yourself.

The only ripples in the pond of our conversation should be the ones you make.

This is so much harder than we think. At least for me.

I like to be the Answer Man. I like to think of my reply while you’re still talking. But that’s not my job. And you won’t feel safe if that’s what I’m doing.

My job is to listen.

My job is to pay attention to your tone of voice, your speed-rate of speech, your pauses, your background noises, your level of coherency.

When I speak, my job is to make sure it’s still about you. My role is to help you process your feelings. And, I don’t understand why (though I have tried reading some clinical research on the subject) but we do this best when we are able to say our “Crazy,” our “Anything”; when we are able to speak to someone who will listen without judgment. My job is to find the place to insert the quiet ‘Mmmmmhmmm,” or “Tell me more about that.”

As I mentioned yesterday, this was a steep learning curve for me. I like to talk. I like to tell people what to do. I like people to know my opinions. In other words, I’m an arrogant human, just like you. But my job is to listen and I consider it a privilege when I am able to hold that sacred space open for someone who just needs to say something out loud to someone who will not try to fix it. I know that this drives many Christians mad; because, after all, isn’t our only point in life to turn every conversation to Jesus and GET PEOPLE SAVED? Well, no, I don’t think that’s our point in life, nor do I think it is helpful to most people.

This journey has caused me to deeply examine the ripples of my own pond. I know when I am giving someone my full attention versus when I am just watching the clock run or checking Twitter while you talk. It has forced me to come to terms with some difficult things in my own life; to find peace. Because how can I be expected to be a calm(ing) presence for others when on the inside I’ve got my own volcano ready to erupt? I have adopted breathing exercises and meditation. I’m that guy now. And I couldn’t be more thankful.

I encourage you to speak less (think more but speak less). I encourage you to listen. I encourage you to help someone unload their burden as you both leave it in the dust (it may or may not be yours to carry). I encourage you to show love by simply being a safe person without an agenda.

My Transition From Pastor To Chaplain

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One of the things that often frustrated me about pastoring was that so many people expected me to be the “Answer Man.” People were often frustrated with me because it is not natural for me to give people step-by-step instructions to spiritual growth. I get it, but I also don’t think that’s who the Bible works but maybe that’s a post for another time.

After resigning from professional local church ministry, I gradually found my way in to the Chaplaincy world. I have served as a Hospice Chaplain, a Hospital Chaplain Intern, and now as a Bereavement Counselor. Career transitions can often be difficult, but one of the refreshing things about this change (at least for me) has been understanding the difference between serving as a Local Pastor and as a Chaplain.

Of course everyone does things differently, but most of the Chaplains that I have been privileged to work with understand this distinction. Pastors are long-term. Pastors are expected to have answers. Pastors are often expected to “fix it.” Chaplaincy is (usually) short-term. Chaplaincy is Triage. Chaplains are Interventionists. But I am not there for you in the long-term. It’s not that I don’t want to be, that’s just not my role; though, of course my role as Bereavement Counselor allows for more long-term relationships than Hospital or even Hospice Chaplaincy.

Chaplains rarely get the benefit of long-term relationships and therefore must learn to establish trust as soon as possible and in different ways than pastors. Pastors earn trust by repeatedly being there for people. Pastors earn trust by helping people fix their problems. Pastors earn trust by having the answers.

Chaplains earn trust with empathy. Chaplains earn trust by listening. It is not my role to counsel or fix anything for you. It is my job (as my co-worker likes to say), to be “a heart with ears.” If I do my job well, then I will call you about the loss of your mother but you will spend 35 minutes telling me about the conflict with your sister and how that is complicating your grief. If I’ve done my job well, you will feel lighter at the end of our time together. It’s not that I take your burden (because it is not mine to bear); it’s that you’ve spoken troublesome things out loud in a safe space with no judgment. I don’t fully understand it, but this is what we all want. We just want someone to listen; to care.

This has taken me a long time to learn. But the role of Chaplain (or Bereavement Counselor) is different from pastor. It’s my job to create a safe space and let the Bereaved do with it what they will. Pastors (almost always) have an agenda. My only agenda is for you to know that you are not alone. Even if it’s only via phone calls, I am with you on this journey. I’m not telling you where to go, that’s up to you to figure out. I may drop breadcrumbs to more helpful paths along the way, but I will never tell you which path to choose. That’s not my role.

And this is difficult for many Christians to understand. Am I wasting my time with these people because I don’t “preach the Gospel” to them? I don’t tell them that unless “they accept Jesus as their Personal Savior,” then they’re going to burn in hell forever? No, I do not. That’s not my role and it’s not what they need in those moments. They need a friend who will listen as they unload their burden. Again, I do not pick up that burden because that’s not my role; but we do talk about how, as they speak these things to me, they have taken that load out of their pack and they don’t need to carry it with them any more. This is forgiveness, though I do not use that word.

Listening is hard for a lot of us. But I worry that it is extremely difficult for many Christians. We have been radicalized to believe that the Bible is some sort of magic answer book meant to fix every situation if only we can Jesus Juke the people to the right dialogue. Of course this is an over-generalization. But it is one drawn from years of experience in that type of culture.

People want a friend. They want to know you care. They may ask you to fix their problems, but I’m willing to bet that they won’t. Or that if they do, they’ve got some sort of co-dependency thing going on. What if Christians were willing to enter in to another’s pain just to help free them of it? No other agenda.

Part of the reason I say all of this is because I know that there is often a pride element in pastoring and many pastors look down on chaplains (or at least see them as lesser). In many ways, I have been set free by the transition from Pastor to Chaplain. I am not tied to your expectations of me, but I am there to help just the same. And, when given the choice between someone who will listen without judgment or someone who will listen only enough to tell me what to do, I’d rather sit down with the chaplain.

The chaplain helps you find your own identity and path. The pastor tells you which paths will destroy you and makes sure you take the path they think should. Now, please hear me here: I am a Christian. I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But I do not believe that it is my job to make other people believe the same thing. People come to me at their most vulnerable times; when they most need someone. It would be religious malpractice for me to use such moments for proselytizing. I am careful with my words and I always try to point people towards Love, but people know when you just view them as a project.

This is not to devalue pastors and their role. Some of the most fulfilling moments of my professional life were as a pastor. I believe in the Church and I support pastors. But that was not a role I felt comfortable carrying ad infinitum and I now understand why. I am not what most people expect from a pastor. I’m not the type to give you exact steps to spiritual growth. I did not break sermons up into alliterative bullet points. I tried to honor the Story we were trusted with and invited people into that Story and allowed the Holy Spirit to implicated as God saw fit. This left a lot of people (including myself) frustrated.

It is my hope and desire that all Christians allow themselves to learn, to grow, and to change. Sanctification is also the process of self-discovery and personal growth. The transition from Pastor to Chaplain has allowed me to reflect on my strengths, my weaknesses, and how I want to best spend my professional life caring for others. And the next time you have a problem, I want you to ask yourself: Do you want someone to fix it or just be there with you and listen?

The Societal Grief of COVID

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These are heavy times.

The West Coast is on fire. Pandemic rages and cruel incompetence rules the nation. Violent far-Right white supremacists are the greatest local terrorist threat to our country. People are losing jobs, their homes, and even their families as Coronavirus reaps its deadly harvest. COVID has wreaked havoc on “social norms.” Schools are closed. Sports are gone. Church has been limited. No concerts. And it feels like we’re being ripped apart at the seams. Isolation hangs in the air with the ashes and anger seems to have spread nearly as fast as COVID. People are angry for being told they are their brothers’ keeper and need to love their neighbors by wearing a mask and social distancing. People who love their neighbors by wearing masks and social distancing are mad at the people who refuse to do so. Everyone is mad at politics.

In the broadest terms, grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change.

And we have had both. Loss of norms. Loss of customs. Change of schedules. Change of hopes and dreams. We are experiencing societal grief. We are all grieving together and yet separately. Isolation is one of the main complicating factors for most people right now whom I speak with after the death of a loved one. But I think there’s something deeper going on: we as a society have experienced loss on a grand scale, and we are grieving.

For some this manifests itself in depression and hopelessness. Others are consumed by anger. For nearly everyone, emotions are boiling and the kettle feels like its about to burst. That’s because grief is an emotional process, and emotions are energy. That energy must find release in healthy ways or bad things happen and I worry that that is exactly what is happening.

I don’t know what this means for an entire society but if you were one of my grievers, I would suggest that you learn more about yourself and what your healthy outlets might be. But to a whole country, I don’t know what to say except that grief does not produce new feelings; it amplifies what’s already there. If you had conflicted feelings about your mother before she died, you’re going to be conflicted after her death.

If you weren’t happy with your country in the first place; societal loss and grief are only going to exacerbate those feelings. The fact that tensions are where they are right now is not because of our grief; our grief has simply amplified what was already there. We are not a healthy society; nor are we a society that seeks to help all, even though that’s our tagline. Instead, we are an unjust society that favors whites and the rich and our entire system is designed for that. Which is exactly what it produces. Our justice system is unjust and our top officials are criminals.

If you were one of my grievers, we might talk about Kintsugi or how to hold a positive vision of the future in your mind so that you can incorporate your loss in healthy ways. But what how we help heal an entire culture?

It may sound trite, but remember that everyone you meet is struggling. Most people are not emotionally healthy right now. Whether it be COVID or injustice or both. With the president threatening to throw out ballots, there might not be much we can do at an institutional level, but at the local level; be a friend. Listen to someone without trying to fix them (this will be especially difficult for Christians who feel their only job it to get souls in to heaven). Just be there with them in their brokenness. Be the friend you would need during such times. Maybe this will attitude will spread.

We might not be able to cure COVID or Systemic Racism overnight, but we can be there for one another in our grief.

Why I Don't Use The "Stages of Grief" In Bereavement Counseling

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I have been listlessly following the unfolding Ravi Zacharias predatory sexting controversy. I wish I was surprised by the deceptive, manipulative, and destructive side of yet another “Christian Celebrity” being laid bare for all to see.

But none of that mess is actually what I want to talk about today. Instead, while reading through this sordid saga (by the way, if you’re not following this story, it appears that renowned “Christian Apologist” Ravi Zacharias groomed a young woman for sexual predation via phone calls and texts), I found myself talking out loud to myself about one particular phrase. As the story unfolds, the woman upon Zacharias appears to have preyed involves her counselors. In the course of this narrative we find the following section:

“According to the Basels, in the month following the traumatic revelation of the affair, the Thompsons, especially Brad, offered Zacharias “premature forgiveness.” The Basels said both Brad and Lori Anne had not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

“Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

I haven’t stopped thinking about this phrase since I first read the piece. It struck a deep chord that often comes up in my daily work as a Bereavement Counselor.

The Basels are the aforementioned counselors. I do not want to disparage anyone or question the work of other professionals and I hope that comes across. I am not criticizing their work or their approach and it certainly seems to have helped the people involved. But I did find myself responding out loud to that section: “Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

I hope I’ve built up the suspense enough that you want to know what I said to myself. I said: “That’s because the “stages of grief” weren’t meant for a situation like this. NO, they’re not in denial. They both admit what happened. They just don’t want to accept it. But that’s different from denial.”

As you might discern, this outburst was simply an internal dialogue given external voice. This is something I’ve thought a lot about. I have people ask me all the time about the stages of grief.

These questions are referencing the important and ground-breaking work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. She spent hours and hours with dying people. Over the course of listening to these people, Dr. Kübler-Ross developed what have become known as the “5 Stages of Grief.” You’ve probably heard of them:

  • Denial

  • Anger

  • Bargaining

  • Depression

  • Acceptance

Grievers reference these ideas all the time as if they are steps which we must complete in order to be “healed” from grief. One problem with this idea is that we do not heal from grief the same way we heal from other things. But another is that Dr. Kübler-Ross’ was not based upon nor intended for grievers. Instead, her work was based on her years spent with dying people. She developed these “stages of grief” (grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change and may include conflicting emotions) as a way to understand the process that many (NOT ALL) people went through after they had received a terminal diagnosis.

Her work was not based upon nor intended to help grievers; the bereaved; those experiencing significant loss or change. But, for many years, there was no evidence-based research on how to help grievers, so with an honest desire to help others, many people applied Kübler-Ross’, not to the one dying but the ones left behind grieving. And this approach has helped a great number of people. But that doesn’t mean that this is the best use of these principles or that there aren’t better ways to process grief.

I hope all that helps you better understand why I didn’t control my inner dialogue when I read those words: “Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

Of course I was not privileged to these private conversations, but I have had enough conversations with enough people in similar situations that I am willing to go on the record saying that I really doubt they were in denial. They knew what happened. That’s why they were in counseling in the first place. They just hated it. They didn’t want to accept it (which you have to do to move on in emotionally healthy ways), but none of this is what Kübler-Ross meant in her “denial” stage.

Kübler-Ross observed that many people who had received a terminal diagnosis actually wrested with believing this reality. Not just believing it; many people actively denied it. They pursued 3rd, 4rth, 5th opinions. They ranted about how doctors didn’t know anything and this Google article says that everyone is wrong. They rejected the truth in front of them. This is not the same thing as a broken couple grappling with the shards of infidelity. As I observed; they are in counseling (this particular couple) precisely because they are hurt by what happened. They don’t want it to be true, but this is not the same thing as actively denying that it happened.

As grief and bereavement work has continued, we have learned to appreciate and value Kübler-Ross’ work while also understanding that we have tried to apply it in ways never intended. This is our fault, not hers. We are all growing and learning and (hopefully) getting better. This means admitting when we’ve misunderstood or misapplied theories.

I know you’re not supposed to draw attention to a problem without also bringing a solution, but I didn’t really set out to explain what we might use instead of “The Five Stages of Grief” and that would make this post too long anyways (but if you’re really interested, may I highly recommend looking in to something like the Grief Recovery Method). This was more the type of post where I just had to say out loud the rest of the internal monologue and explain why I (and most Bereavement Counselors I know) no longer use these “Stages” to help grievers. Perhaps I’ll write about the other side of this conversation later, but in the meantime, I hope you at least understand my perspective.

Of STUGS And STERBS

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Everyone is unique. And everyone grieves differently. If someone tells you that they know exactly what you’re going through, they don’t. If someone tells you that they can’t imagine what you’re going through, that might not be terribly helpful, but it’s at least true.

While it is true that no one processes loss (grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change) the same, in my role as a Hospice Bereavement Counselor, I do come across lots of people with similar experiences.

One of the familiar themes I come across is people who describe grief as feeling as though it comes and goes, almost like the waves of the ocean. Sometimes you might feel the wave coming before it hits you while others you feel blindsided as the grief floods your soul. And we don’t always know what triggers one of these unexpected onsets of grief and sadness. Sometimes it might be hearing a song on the radio, a particular place or smell. Other times it’s as if we’ve been unexpectedly hockey-checked right in to the boards.

It must be noted that these “waves” are not the same thing as grief in general and that not everyone will experience them. But I’ve talked to enough people to understand that enough people experience these waves that we need to talk about them. Believe it or not, there is a technical term for these unexpected onsets of intense grief. We call them Sudden Temporary Upsurges of Grief, or S.T.U.G.s for short.

Part of the grieving process is growing in self-awareness. We are wise to examine ourselves and how we process difficult emotions. What is helpful for us? Are there certain songs that were important to you and your loved one? Movies? Places? Foods? Understanding such “triggers” will not prevent STUGs, but they will help you prepare for when they come. And this is important because, it is these STUGs which can be so raw and painful that we often turn to S.T.E.R.B.s (yes, another acronym).

The Grief Recovery Institute defines STERBs as: “Short Term Energy Relieving Behaviors. They are activities you use to distract yourself from painful feelings that follow a major loss.” The first thing to understand is why they are called Short Term Energy Relieving Behaviors rather than “Emotion” relieving behaviors. The answer is because grief is emotional and emotions are energy. As John Lydon might say: “Anger is an Energy.” As we experience a wide range and intensity of emotions, we have physical effects. Some people will feel anxious, others tired, etc. We don’t know what to do with all that energy and quite frankly, we want to get rid of it/calm it/ignore it/whatever we can. So we turn to certain behaviors to try to cope with all these energies wreaking havoc on our bodies and psyches.

We call these responses STERBs. These are (short-term) attempts to distract ourselves from our grief. They might be the desire to numb ourselves, or to just “check out”. There is no comprehensive list of STERBs because, just as everyone grieves uniquely, everyone tries to cope differently. Some people will turn to sex, alcohol, drugs, video games, the internet, exercise, shopping, hoarding, gambling, workaholism, isolation, eating/starving, etc.

We turn to STERBs because we believe that they are helping us recover from our grief. But, when we’re honest with ourselves, they do not make us feel better. They just make us feel different. Yes, they might distract us for a bit. They might even numb our pain for a bit. But, just like STUGs are “temporary,” STERBs are “short-term.” They do not help us move through, process, or recover from our grief, they simply postpone the process.

Just as growing in self-awareness can help us prepare for STUGs, growing in self-awareness can also help us face our loss (which must happen to move through grief in an emotionally healthy way: Read my piece: “Grief: When You Come To This Trench, Swim Through It, Not Over It”) rather than turn to STERBs.

Grief forces us to be honest with ourselves. Grief forces us to know ourselves better. And, knowing that grief is something we will all face, maybe it’s best if we all started thinking about ourselves now. Am I the type to try and distract myself from difficult things with business? Am I the type of person who tries to numb difficult emotions? Knowing such things about one’s self in the here and now will not only help us when waves of grief crash over us but the next time we hit an emotional speed-bump.

Brené Brown on Empathy

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I am currently enrolled in my second unit of Clinical Pastoral Education. In this unit, each student is asked to provide a “centering” opening to each gathering. One week, one of my fellow cohort members opened our gathering with a short video from Brené Brown on Empathy.

I love most things I’ve read/heard/seen from Brené Brown but I had not seen this short video yet.

And it has stuck with me so much that I want you to see it if you haven’t yet and I want to hear your thoughts if you have.

From the video’s Youtube page:

“What is the best way to ease someone's pain and suffering? In this beautifully animated RSA Short, Dr Brené Brown reminds us that we can only create a genuine empathic connection if we are brave enough to really get in touch with our own fragilities.”

Credits:

  • Voice: Dr Brené Brown

  • Animation: Katy Davis (AKA Gobblynne) www.gobblynne.com

  • Production and Editing: Al Francis-Sears and Abi Stephenson

Other Information:

  • Watch Dr Brené Brown's full talk 'The Power of Vulnerability' here.

Dr Brené Brown is a research professor and best-selling author of "Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead" (Penguin Portfolio, 2013).

She has spent the past decade studying vulnerability, courage, worthiness, and shame.