The road trip to visit family had been long, but we were home at last. I stood in the kitchen, surveyed the chaos and wondered where to begin. The counter was cluttered with the piles of unread newspapers and mail that had arrived in our absence and the remains of the picnic lunch we ate on the road. I lifted a large cooler from beside the sink and placed it on the floor to unpack as my daughter walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and plucked a small candle from the midst of the clutter – a candle that bore the imprint of a tiny child’s hand on the side.
“What is this?” she asked me.
“It’s a candle your aunt gave me,” I responded. She held the candle as she listened to the story of Frankie and his birthmother, a woman who knew she would not live to see her baby grow into a boy. So, before his birth she packed a bag for him. Along with his clothes she included an empty bottle of her perfume so that he would forever remember the scent of his mother. Frankie’s adoptive parents had the candle made in that scent and were selling it to raise money to feed hungry Haitian children.
My daughter listened thoughtfully as she inhaled the aroma of the unlit candle. Then she began to run her fingers along the top before pressing them to her nose to breathe in the scent more deeply. Familiar waves of grief and longing passed behind her eyes- deep, deep sadness.
“This candle smells like the orphanage,” she said.
The perfume Frankie’s mother wore must have been a popular one in Haiti. The nannies entrusted with my daughter’s care must have worn it too. Tears silently began to fill her eyes as she ran her fingers gently across the surface of the candle over and over again. It is a mystery, this grief, an incongruence I have learned to accept. The years she waited for a family were filled with grief and cavernous longing, but sometimes she still misses the orphanage. That in-between waiting place where she said goodbye to one life to enter another was part of who she was and all she would become. Frankie’s candle smelled like home.
She took one last sniff of the candle and then placed it on the kitchen counter before turning to wrap her arms tightly around my waist and bury her face in my chest. I held her silently because she has taught me there are moments when grief is too sacred for words; there are times when the best gift love can give is shared sorrow wrapped in silence.
Too often it seems we feel some compulsion to offer gems of wisdom in the midst of grief as if learning a wonderful lesson could heal the deepest, most rending wounds of the soul. Yet, Romans 15:15 simply instructs us to “mourn with those who mourn.”
It is the simplest and most difficult of commandments. Shared mourning is infinitely more painful and messy than offering a succinct catchphrase. But it follows the model of Christ.
After Lazarus’ death, Jesus’ first interaction with Mary and Martha was simply to weep with them (John 11:35). His example challenges us to enter into the suffering of others with the simplest of gifts: listening ears, warm embraces, shared tears, and tender prayers. When we do this we become the felt presence of Jesus to the grieving. It is here that hearts find the room to heal – as we mourn with those who mourn.
Leave a Comment
Julie Sunne says
This is lovely example of love lived out–messy and all. Thank you for encouraging us to live and love as Christ, Sherri.
Lacey says
Thank you for putting words to a feeling I’ve been feeling for a long time. Sometimes you just need to be there for the person, nothing more, nothing less.
Susan Shipe says
This was so poignant and beautiful. It deeply touched my heart. The story itself is touching but it certainly affirms that smell is a powerful sense – and it makes me think of how our worship is a sweet smelling fragrance for our Father. Wonderful post.
Joanne Peterson says
When I have been given permission to cry without anyone trying to fix it, or offer explanation have been the most healing in my own grief.
My daughter, when my mother-in-law passed away kept one of Grandma’s sweatshirts so she could smell her scent. My mother-in-law had been my daughter’s foster daughter before we adopted her, so this grandma was also my daughter’s mama. Her passing was extremely hard on my daughter, and she could not put this grief to words, but left with feeling as though she was abandoned by God because He didn’t answer her prayers to heal Grandma, and abandoned by Grandma because she left my daughter.
Chris Hicks says
We just lost a very dear elder at our church. About 7 weeks ago he found out he had stage four cancer. He just passed away and so many at our church are heart broken, myself included. He was like a Father figure to me and lots of others. We also have a granddaughter who is adopted and we love her so very much.
She has her moments when her grief over her losses have been so hard to watch. Sometimes we just have to let people feel the pain and grief over loss. Be there to listen and don’t try so hard to fix it.
Jo Gooden says
You know my story friend & no truer words were ever written! So blessed & Happy to see you featured here. God bless you Sherri!
Susan G. says
Words of truth spoken (written) here… Just lost a good friend Monday…but she’s dancing on ‘streets of gold’ now, and healthy and happy. Joy is supposed to be a big part of our Christian life, but ‘mourning’ is as well…
Thank you.
Sharon O says
so beautiful. silence is so teachable and so important. To sit in silence with someone, It is both a gift and a blessing.
Taylor Arthur says
Thank you so much for this beautiful piece. We have lost a baby son, and to this day–6 years later–the people I feel the most tied to are the ones who will still cry along with me. Nothing is more sacred than a friend who will mourn with you…or more rare. Thank you, Shari. Love in Christ, Taylor
Jolene Underwood (@Faith_Eyes) says
Beautiful story & beautifully written. It touches my heart deeply as I wrestle with my own losses & watching others grieve the loss of children now, or soon to come. Over the last several months I have spent much time considering ways we can encourage and support others during trials. This is definitely a needed message. Thank you for sharing.
Taylor Arthur says
We lost our first baby six years ago , and the friends who will still cry with us today are rare and priceless. Life us so hard and when we can share each others’ grief, we truly become Jesus for another. Thank you for this post. It is so beautiful and true.
Sincerely, Taylor
Marty says
This is precious and beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Christyn says
My husband died a year ago after a long battle with cancer. The days since have been hard for me and our young daughter. I understand the good intention behind words such as “He’s in a better place” but that doesn’t make being without him any easier. Your words are beautiful and true: “…there are moments when grief is too sacred for words…” I’m getting used to it being hard without him, and I’m thankful that on the hardest days, I have friends who will just let me cry. They don’t offer platitudes; they just sit and pray and listen and hold a place for the grief that spills out of me. Thank you for sharing this part of your story; it is one of the best “how to help others deal with grief” pieces that I’ve come across and I know it will be a blessing to others.
Debi Schuhow says
It’s a mystery, that entering another’s grief with your presence. Something sacred happens there.
Christan says
Oh, my goodness. This is beautiful… on so many levels. Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Beth WIlliams says
My neighbor lost her oldest son a few weeks ago. We did not know what to say or do. We just went and got some KFC and took it over to them. We pray that small act will let them know that we are saddened for them. It is so hard for parents to lose a child. In this case she had lost her husband years ago and now her son.
I just pray for her and the family to have the peace that only God can give! When time elapses we will talk with them and cry with them–whatever they need.
Great Post!