Grieving as an Enneagram 1Sýnishorn

The love is in the words and in the actions.

It’s strange and wonderful to accept the genuine kindness of friends, family, and strangers. However imperfectly it may be given or received. Meals and cards and flowers, all symbols of care. All attempts to cross the wide gap of isolation. To be a balm to the wound that cannot be touched.

One of the most comforting things I've received was an unrehearsed and singular word dropped with such sincerity and compassion by a friend as I recounted some of the facts and tragedy of my loss.

I’ll forever be grateful for that unscripted human moment and for the precise but unexpected declaration.

And so I suspect the way forward with grief is to express the love for the one lost, the idea of them, the memory of them, through authentic words and actions.

Writing a remembrance of my father was one such outlet for grief. Turning my attention away from the vague expectation of what grief should look like to focus on who he was, and, therefore, why grief should be expressed at all, is meaningful.

There's grace in grief, too.

God will meet you there, in the grief. This tender mercy, present in all stages and moments of life mingles with the reality of the loss, including all the what-ifs, if-onlys, and the whys.

While grace is unmerited and cannot be earned, I've found I'm more attentive to its presence when I sit in the gratitude: remembering the person I loved, all the good there was, stories, and memories.

That is a journey unto itself, both tenuous and dependent on time. For me, inviting God in there, to the most tender and personal space of grief, a place of mutual acquaintance, is comforting.

However you've arrived at this devotional on grief, whether seeking insight into the grief process of an Enneagram One or mourning the loss of a loved one, I hope you've found some fellowship in these words.

A friend loves at all times; may these words express the friendship of the Body of Christ toward you.

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