You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you for ever. –Psalm 30:11-12
I was in Divinity School when my Grandfather died suddenly of a heart attack. It was my first loss of a close family member. I remember talking with a friend about the emptiness I felt. It was as though there was a huge hole in the center of my being. I couldn’t imagine how it could ever be filled in.
My friend Ann’s reply stuck with me. She started by suggesting that maybe the hole never actually gets filled in. I was taken aback by her words, and also unexpectedly relieved; it felt wrong to imagine filling the hole left by my Grandfather’s death, as though I expected to replace him.
Ann continued. Right now, she said gently, the hole feels huge and right in the center. As you grieve and heal, she promised, it will move away from the center of your being and it will grow smaller. It will always be part of you, but one day you will discover that instead of a hole there is a space–a space for memories, a space to hold all the gifts your Grandfather gave you, a space for compassion.
I have held that image with me through many griefs and losses since then. And I have experienced that transformation–slowly–as emptiness becomes spaciousness. –Debbie Clark
God of sorrow and joy, we have holes in our hearts, empty places of loss. Transform our emptiness into spaciousness. Bless us with space in our hearts for memories and for compassion. Amen.