VAST SPACE

Sometimes when things stop being the way they were, empty space opens up for things to be what they are becoming.

A recent fascinating documentary explored the life of Stephen Hawking, theoretical physicist and cosmologist. At an early age he was diagnosed with ALS, a degenerative nerve disease that completely disables and is usually fatal.  He was told that he would live only 2 or three more years.  

But, now, at 72, he is one of the greatest physicists of all time. As his body deteriorated through the years, Mr. Hawking explored the origins of the universe and mathematically proved the "Big Bang" theory of creation. He studied "black holes" and has contributed to quantum leaps in scientific insight into the expanding cathedral of the universe.

Mr Hawking's ability to speak became so bad that he had to have someone interpret for him.  Then, in 1985, he nearly died with pneumonia but when he recovered from a coma, he lost all ability to speak.  Because he could only move a muscle in his cheek, he was outfitted with a computer device that enabled him to move a curser on a computer and construct words at the rate of 15 words per minute.

He said that, as a result of being unable to speak, he spent more and more time in his mind, exploring the expansive questions of the universe and how it works.  Many of his theories have developed in that empty space where once  his voice existed. After the loss of his voice, he finished his most popular work, A Brief History of Time, that has sold over 10 million copies.

Most of us will never be famous and contribute to the world's self-knowledge the way Mr. Hawking does. But, I know that empty space can be a nest for unthought insights to be birthed. Our anxiety about empty spaces often prevent our making new discoveries. But, if we can moderate our fear and wander around in that space, we may discover insights that had eluded us and courage to try something new that we never had time to do when all the space was filled.

WEIGHTY WINTER

Indiana winter this year has been one for the snow lovers--and cold lovers--and sledding lovers. I determined years ago that I would not let weather define my mood or what I do. Life is too short to let things I can do nothing about control how I live my life or how I feel about life.

But, I have to admit, this winter has been pretty weighty. The sub-zero weather that follows snow storms has secured the snow in permanent piles beside our driveway. Those who live in our city without adequate shelter have struggled to not only stay warm but, in too many cases, to stay alive. Those who are waiting through the winter of their soul find a companion in the weather even as they ache for a sign of new life emerging. The ubiquitous light of the media simply reminds us of the dark winter freeze.

I don't have answers to how we might speed through to spring. Thaw comes in its own time.  But, I think one way to carry the weight of winter is to partner with others. Reach out to those whom you know and offer them warm hospitality in your home. Share a hot cup of care by sending someone a greeting.  Light a candle in the cold by calling someone whose icy burden weights their soul. Companions may not have answers to weighty questions but they can help you know you are not alone.

And as you companion each other, hold hard to the hope that the snow will melt and that somewhere a sprig of spring will one day emerge. Allow that hope to warm your heart that holds the dark burden of pain and oppressive fear. Remember, under the snow is a seed that, with the warming sun, becomes a rose.

BREATHING SPACE

In the novel, Middlesex by  Jeffrey Eugenides , a young woman has run away from home. She reports that her parents wait by the phone to get word of her, but they are afraid that they might hear that she has died. They are ambivalent about picking up the phone because "ignorance seemed preferable to grief."

There are times in our lives that knowing the truth about an ending is difficult to hear. We need some protection from the truth because once we know that loss is real, we have to grieve.  And grieving is hard.  It takes lots of work and exhausts us.  Learning to live without someone or something that has been important to our self-understanding requires attention and internal negotiation to determine how to live a new way.

Sanctuary is important. Each of us has to deal with the truth in our own time and our own way.  Denial may not be a healthy way to deal with endings, but it can be a safe place to retreat to at times. To consider all the implications of a significant loss takes time and strength. We need spaces in our lives when we can breath and rest.  The unrelenting truth of loss can wear us down unless we have space where we can rest and renew our strength.

If you know someone who struggles to deal with the end of the way the world was, be graceful with them. Know that sometimes they need to just be held and not wrestle with reality all the time. Be a sanctuary for them and allow your presence to be a sabbath space.  They will return to the struggle with truth when they have the strength.

SHARED PAIN

A number of people I love are in pain--emotional, physical, psychological, spiritual. I hate it!!  I want to fix it. It seems to be a natural impulse for me to want to do something--anything--to reduce pain of those I love.

But that can be a problem. Most of the time I can't fix it!! Pain seems to be uniquely individual. Each of us experience it in our own way. The only way we can get beyond it is to go through it. We can try to avoid it, but mostly it comes back, sooner or later and has to be dealt with.

Now one of the problems with my wanting to fix the situation that creates pain for others is that, since I mostly can do nothing to fix it, I am tempted to avoid people in pain.  It is frustrating to feel like I should fix the problem and not have the ability to actually do that.  I feel helpless. In order to avoid frustration, I may be tempted at times to just crawl into the safety of my own world and not show up in the lives of those who hurt.

But, I know from my own experience of pain that having people accompany me in my pain can be helpful. The presence of people who know me and who care for me is really important.  It is important when they come along side of me and walk with me in that pain.  I know that others can't fix the problem and move life back before the painful experience occurred, but it helps me carry my pain when others hold it with me.

And the presence that is most helpful is that which comes gently into my space. Those who try to insist that they have to be with me may be helpful at times, but the most helpful people are those who are near by, waiting and ready when I feel the need to reach out.  It is those who remind me from time to time that they are available. It is those who email, who send a card, who phone.  Just a reminder of their potential presence.

So, if you know someone who is hurting--don't avoid them just because you feel helpless to fix their problem. Respect them enough to allow them to have their own pain, but love them enough to be willing to share time with them when they desire it.

FEELING GUILT

Endings bring a lot of confusing and painful feelings.  Especially when what has ended is something that someone wishes would continue.  Pain, disorientation, anger, frustration.  These are understandable and fairly easy to explain.

But, there is another feeling that sometimes surprises us.  That is the feeling of guilt.  When something we desire and value has ended, it seems important for people to attribute blame.  We need to explain it. Someone must be responsible for it.  We seem driven to find out why it happened and who is responsible for it. Someone is guility.

Sometimes that guilt is assigned to others. Others have not done what they should  and that is why we have experienced the ending. When someone dies, it is often the doctors that are blamed; or the medical system; or the person who didn't live in a way that would have prolonged their life; or some might blame God. 

But, sometimes the ending also brings a sense of guilt to those of us who suffer the agony of the ending. Sometimes we focus on ourselves and what we "could-a", "should-a", "would-a" done. The "if-onlys" chase our hearts down the corridors of our minds.  "If only I had told her to go the doctor sooner when the symptoms first appeared. If only I had been more sensitive to her needs. If only I had been attentive when she was alive at least I wouldn't feel guilty about the mistakes I made in our relationship."

It is important for those who suffer loss or those who accompany others through loss to realize that guilt is a normal and almost automatic part of the grieving process.  When something ends and there is no opportunity to retrieve that which is lost, we rehearse the past, sifting through the nuggets of memory to see if we can't create a narrative where we might discover a direct cause and effect.  

Unfortunately, there will be many loose ends and a great deal of confusion in most cases of loss.  So don't be surprised when guilt is a significant part of the way we attend to the losses of our lives. And remember that it can become a prison which locks us in the past.