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The Migration of Mourning by Elizabeth
Sterling A most brilliant thing happened to me the other day. I was driving in a car with a friend. We began talking about grieving. And she told a story of a man who shared his grieving process after his mother died. The man said, "first I tried to find her in her belongings, her stuff. Not finding her there, I continued to search. I tried to find her at the cemetery. She was not there either. It took me quite a while but I finally found her. She was in me!" As my friend was relaying what the grieving man shared, I smiled inside because I knew the ending before she told me. In searching for Bennett, I have found him in my heart. Just after we had shared our understanding of grieving and mourning, we saw a huge, I mean gigantic, flock of geese flying overhead. And when the geese left our view, there was the perfect sliver of a moon in the shape of a smile just above the horizon. I believe that was God smiling at me for reaching this understanding of death and bereavement. When Bennett took his last breath a goose honked overhead. I always see Bennett flying away on a goose with a smile and wave. John and I purchased a handmade mobile of geese made from birch bark flying in formation when we were on vacation, probably when Bennett was conceived. That mobile was hanging almost above Bennett when he died. I go to sleep each night and wake up each morning in the spot were John and I held Bennett in his last physical moments. That mobile still hangs in the same sacred spot. I was cleaning the other day (a rare event;), and the mobile changed directions. I had the mind to change it back, but something told me it was time for those geese to fly in a new direction. The geese have really been on the move this month. And I just love to watch them. Their connectedness, fluidity and teamwork is something we can all learn from. I know some look at these birds with disdain because of the waste they leave behind and the problems of overpopulation. Recently, I saw a poster of invasive species of Pennsylvania that had Canada geese posted as one of the bandits. But to me, these are creatures of God. Birds have historically been symbolic of being of both the earth and heaven. Birds are often messengers of God in my life. My heart flies to heaven with them. Right before Bennett was born I heard a mourning dove cry and saw an image of Uncle Tom (who died of cancer) holding my yet to be born son. It scared me because I thought it meant that when Bennett was born Tom would die. At the time of course, I had no idea what the real message was. I had no way of knowing both would die from cancer in less than a two-year span. One morning this week during my time of prayer and meditation, I heard the cry of the mourning dove again. And a few seconds later, I heard the honk of a goose. In my mind, I saw my soul being carried into a new direction away from the darkness of mourning back into the LIGHT of life. I think some of us fear leaving our mourning. We fear leaving the shadows of our caves means leaving our loved ones behind. In the darkness we find comfort for the sharp edges of pain and suffering. The shadows soften those sharp edges. Mourning is needed. We need to slow down to be healed. We need to explore the darkness of our pain and to face our fears. But eventually it is time to move onto a new land; one that has abundant warmth for our hearts, food for our souls, and joy for our lives. And when we take the step back to life, we don't leave our loved ones behind. In fact, we find them even more alive in our hearts and in our lives when we migrate back to LIGHT. Scripture Poem The other
side of darkness I explore these
caves hoping to find what I have lost Safe in these
caves I fear not Like a frog
in winter my pulse slows to a stop I slip easily
into a long, silent slumber The sweet song
of life awakens me With the warmth
I feel, Prayer |