Tag Archives: grief

A Prayer as We Remember Our Saints

01 Friday Nov 2019

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God of Expanding Love,

Our week pauses as we remember the ones who walked with us here on earth. Our day stops as we cherish the memories of the people whose energy are forever embedded within our souls…

For the saints who let us call them grandparents. For our time together in the kitchen and wandering around garage sales, as we learned stitches from them and listened to their stories. May their talents challenge us to be our best selves.

For the saints who led us in classrooms. For their steadfast encouragement which still walks with us today. May their educating spirit uplift our souls until our last days.

For the saints who hit the clubs with us in our twenties and spent countless hours with us as we cried over broken hearts.  For the ones who sat on the phone with us as we shared our joys. May our friendship abide in eternity.

For the saints in the pews near us. For their faith which carried us when we couldn’t see the road ahead. May their songs continue to be remembered on Sunday mornings, in meeting spaces, and fellowship gatherings.

For the saints which called us their children. For their Divine-like love that comforted us when our fevers spiked or skinned knees. May we forever celebrate the peaceful moments of their love.

For our beloveds that no longer walk this earth with us. For the moments of laughter now embedded in our souls. May each tear shed and each tale told be a testament to our love shared.

If only we could hear your voice alive again…

If only we could engage in simple disagreements…

If only we could tell you how sorry we were for that one thing we did wrong in 1995…

Our hearts feel torn by the assault of grief. Our minds feel foggy from mourning’s arrival.

And yet here we are – weeks, months, years, decades removed from the last time we shared space with them. Here we are surviving. Here we are- carrying their love into tomorrow.

God of the broken-hearted, as we walk together into the future, allow us your peace which goes beyond understanding, a peace that will enrich our strength as we continue on our journeys. May the tools left behind by our saints empower us to build your kin-dom here on earth.

Amen.

A Prayer Upon Receiving a Diagnosis

24 Saturday Aug 2019

Posted by in Health, Pop, Prayers

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Molecular God who abides in my veins,
As the words spill from the doctor’s mouth
Of a new diagnosis,
Of a new reality,
Of a new normal,
Hold steady my shaking soul.

There are words now for the pain I’ve been feeling,
And I’m happy that it’s finally not “all in my head.”
Yet now it’s real.
Now I really must face this.
Now I must see that this body of mine is finite
And admit I will not live forever.

May good days be good, and may they be plentiful.
May bad days be few and far between.
May medicines work.
May side effects be rare.
And may the aches not distract me from your presence.

Amen.

Tears, Songs, and Hearing His Voice

26 Sunday May 2019

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This morning, I supercried at church – weeping like a small child.

The song was “Let There Be Peace on Earth.” Beyond the voices of the choir, I could hear the sound of my dad’s voice…

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me…

My dad would sing the song with every fiber of his being. His (probably) tenor voice would sing each syllable with intent. As a civics teacher, a Genocide survivor’s son, and a person who believed Christianity was an active faith, the song was probably the best representation of what he believed.

Let peace begin with me, let this be the moment now…

And so, when this song is sung as it was today with the choir, every piece of my being remembered him. I remembered his articulation of faith, of his voice singing a song that was a prayer in his heart. I remembered our time sitting next to one another in church as my faith grew next to his more matured, more articulated faith.

Songs connect us with people and the past. Of moments of joy and of losses. We know what we no longer have, but we know that we’ve been given the gift of something spectacular – the holiness of song, of love, of spirit.

To take each moment, and live each moment, in peace eternally-

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

 

Grieving the Saints

01 Thursday Nov 2018

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Death’s bite clenched my heart again this year. While the loss of my dad stings even almost 14 months after his death, I’ve had three friends pass in the last week.

The third friend died on November first: All Saints’ Day.

The thick fog of grief hovered as the new month was ushered into our lives. From the deaths of years ago to the crisp new blustery winds of grief’s winter, my heart feels deep sadness. Even when the people who die aren’t the closest of friends or relatives, often we feel off. Like a mild cold or minor infection in our bodies, something is not quite right. We aren’t crying for hours, but our minds are distracted.

This is grief too. Even when someone isn’t close, their loss impacts our world because our connection with one another is deep and eternal.

For all the saints, we give gratitude. For all the saints, we sing a bittersweet melody. For all the saints, we celebrate blissful memories.

 

A Prayer for Last Days

03 Sunday Jun 2018

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Divine One who shifts the workings of the universe-

This marks the end of a chapter- the final words on a page. How sad this segment of the story is closing! With voices retiring and being moved into the archives of my mind, I find myself saddened by this narrative’s end.

I will miss conversation and laughs, the characters I’ve grown to love, and the flow that’s delightfully comfort.

But we all know, Divine One, that comfort is not your goal for the active moments of our lives.

You ask us to turn the page, to trust that this next chapter includes beauty and joy. You ask us to trust you as we look towards the future with cautious optimism.

So as I cheer on the new chapter, I beg you to feed my heart with peace. May I release these memories and people and places into the world, knowing that you care for them, knowing that you connect us forever, knowing that we are all being called to serve your world.

Amen.

First Birthday Gone

07 Wednesday Feb 2018

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Today’s the first time we exist in a February 7 world without my dad in it. And as many of you are well too familiar, this is bizarre.

Most years, I would try to call my dad at midnight. Of course, this would be 11pm CST, a point that wouldn’t matter to him.

Last night, there was no one I could call to wish those birthday greetings.

Dad was born on the seventh day in February in the seventh hour. He used to indicate how the number sevens were lucky for him.

Today would have been his 77th birthday. So on this seventh day of February in which my dad would have been 77, make this world a stronger place. Tell someone what a fantastic job they are doing. Call you congressional leaders to speak your needs and the needs of those marginalized. Watch the news, register to vote, learn the faces of our congressional leaders, or just be a good human today. That’s what Vincent Torigian would want for his birthday.

And Dad, as you abide on that side of heaven, may you feel the love that all of us are sending you on your birthday. Miss you so much.

A Prayer for Goodness and Mercy

24 Wednesday Jan 2018

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Where is that “Goodness and Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,” God? It feels like accidents and overworking and grieving and illness are trailing me as I walk along your holy path.

How do I go forward when all I know right now is pain? Hope shrivels as aches of the soul grow. Will the next turn be more losses, or complications, or even more pain?

And yet I go forward, taking the specks of hope kept safely deep within my soul, waiting for the right place to plant these tiny seeds. For Goodness and Mercy shall pursue me even into the depths of life.

And I will dwell on your path forever, Holy One.

Amen.

On the Last Day of Christmas

05 Friday Jan 2018

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IMG_6230On the last day of Christmas, there were no drummers drumming or pipers piping. There weren’t glittery lights and shiny paper.

No gifts remained to be unwrapped. No large feast with twelve close relatives.

Instead, on the last day of Christmas, there was a hospital room with a soul slowly slipping away. A haunting rendition of O Come All Ye Faithful piped through the television speakers as a code blue was called overhead.

The last day of Christmas was filled with a stale silence. The quiet room was stirred awake by the running of nurses down the hall to resuscitate a life.

A birth was forgotten as death remained in the waiting room.

On the last day of Christmas, true love wasn’t about extravagant presents but about decades-long soulmates singing the final verse of their song together.

And as the tune came to a close, the lone partridge scurried away.

The Year I Became Old

04 Thursday Jan 2018

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I became old in 2017.

Now, I fully do not think that I am “old.” But some turning point happened during the year – of course due to life events.

First and foremost, my dad died. I’m sure I would attain a sense of aging based on that event alone. But because of failed cell phone connections at 5:30am and my mom not receiving emergency calls, I was the one who had to make split-second decisions on my dad’s care when he went into cardiac arrest.

“Intubate him. Do what you can. Anything.” These were pretty much my words when I answered that phone early on that September morning.

When you are forced to make life and death decisions for your parents, you release the remnants of any previous relationship you have with them.  You’ve “adulted” in the fullest sense of the word.

Secondly, last year was the time period when I transformed from simply becoming aware of my upcoming menopause to experiencing the pangs of its birth. With periods becoming irregular – heavy or nonexistent – I noticed the small to large ways my body was changing.

Hello extra ten pounds! Was that a hot flash? I didn’t realize my anxiety would return…

“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” – – 1 Corinthians 13:11.

Maybe it’s one event or two that happen within a short time of one another. Something shifts in our mind, and we no longer see the trajectory of life in the same way.

Now is the time to accomplish what I feel called to do.

Now is the time to take the dreams lodged in my mind and bring them to reality.

Being a 44 year old in 2017 beginning the journey to menopause and losing a parent was transformative in ways that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. And, yet, most of us have to face these types of changes.

And this is when we shed our old ways and prioritize the elements in our lives so that on our deathbeds there will be minimal to no regrets.

I head into 2018 with words like “resilience” and “survive” on my mind. After a year like 2017, I no longer see this endless time ahead of me. This new year must reflect my new mindset as I care for myself in new ways, love in deeper way, and carpe diem like I haven’t before.

 

Thanksgiving’s Empty Seat

23 Thursday Nov 2017

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God, you fill in all spaces and abide in all times, and yet today, once space will feel every kind of void.

Dad’s seat.

There will be feelings and memories and all sorts of things we want to pile onto that seat. We will fill that chair with tears and sighs and our still-stunned hearts.

How could we be here today, God? No. This can’t be…

(There is no other way around it: today will suck.)

But even as our hearts are breaking throughout the day, help us to fill Dad’s plate with delicious memories. May our time together today be one where we embed the joyful Thanksgiving moments of the past into our souls, recalling moments of laughter and creating new mirthful memories.

Amen.