Giving Back

After my divorce, I initiated a divorce recovery program at my church because I thought we (read "I") needed one. That first fall session drew over 100 people; our community was thirsty for someplace to heal from the death of a marriage.

The next spring we held it again and trained some of the participants from the fall session to help facilitate the small groups. Each seminar more singles returned to facilitate small groups for the next wave of participants.

For 15 years Starting Over Single reached out to our community every spring and fall, and what we gradually realized was that each season reflected the growth and healing that had occurred the past six months. Giving back became not only a reflection of our healing, but instrumental in our healing. I thought I was giving back to help others but discovered that giving back was healing me.

On the days when we can do nothing to help ourselves, the only thing to do is help someone else.

Who can you reach out to today?

Grieving: An Unwanted Boat Ride

When you first lose someone you love, you find yourself captive on a boat racing away from shore. The boat is named GRIEF, and you feel kidnapped against your will. You didn’t sign up for this excursion.

You stand aft in this boat looking back at your life as it was just a short time ago shouting, “Wait! I want to go back! I don’t belong on this boat. There must be some mistake! Stop the boat. Turn back. My life is back there!”

As the shore gradually recedes you notice the movement of the water behind the boat, and with a shiver you realize it’s called “the wake.”

Eventually, you reluctantly collapse in the center of the boat and try to figure out how to deal with this dilemma. “Where am I? How did this happen? Who am I now without my loved one? Why do we have to go through this? What can I do to survive this? Who will help me? When will this end?”

The boat isn't racing any more. It's going so slow the journey seems interminable. You have lots of time to think, reflect, feel and cry. You want the boat to hurry up, to get somewhere else. Anywhere would be better than this! You know it can’t go back, but it doesn’t seem to be going any where either. Some moments you still want to go back, other days you’re just trying to survive each moment where you are.

Eventually, you start to look ahead of the boat and wonder where you’ll end up. You might even have an idea where you’d like to go. “Say, there’s an island over there—we could relax on the beach. No, let’s head for that town; that might be interesting. Maybe I could start over there. I could go back to school. Maybe I’ll try oil painting. I’ve always wished I could visit foreign countries. I think I’ll frost my hair. A dancing class would be fun. I’m going to start LIVING again.”

Is grief driving your life? What is this ride like for you? Where are you in your boat called “Grief”


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The source of this analogy is unknown, but crossed my path 15 or 20 years ago. If anyone knows whose idea this is, please post it for us all. Thanks!

Change is Messy!

We’re the fortunate ones in our condominium complex. Standing guard in our back yard, a stately Maple tree provides welcome shade for our south facing patio. I love that we have a tree! Trees offer texture and perspective and a playground for squirrels.

A few weeks ago, the leaves sprouted and scattered their protective pods all over the ground—and our patio. What a mess! I’d sweep the patio and the next time I looked out the yellow/green confetti was everywhere again. Just as I’ve forgotten the first phase, the maple will send oodles of “helicopters” spinning to the lawn creating an even bigger mess. Finally summer will bring full leaves and the lovely tree I am so grateful for.

The messiness of spring often distracts me from fully appreciating the tree. I forget that the chaos of spring is part of the natural life cycle. The messiness of transition and change is just a sign that a new season is approaching.

The same thing happens in our own life cycles. Change is messy. Old identities are lost, new ones not yet established. The in between place is unfamiliar, uncomfortable and often chaotic. We complain about the lack of order and are frustrated by not being able to control it.

But if we just pause and remember that it’s all a natural cycle, we’re less likely to focus on the mess and instead, eagerly await the gorgeous tree that is just around the corner.

Change IS messy, but it also can bring us something new and wonderful. In fact, the new can’t come to us without letting go of the old.

Where are you in the natural process of transitions? Are you focusing on the old, the mess, or looking forward to what’s new?

Time to Grieve: "Don't Rush Me!"

A life lesson landed at my feet in a parking lot the other day.

Three people were just ahead and one of the women caught her toe on the edge of the pavement, stumbled and fell onto the walk. Her husband and friend asked her if she was hurt and then grabbed her arms and tried to pull her up.

As I approached I heard her say, “Don’t make me get up just yet!”

Why do we so often kick into gear and try to help someone without pausing to ask, “Do you need help?” or ‘How can I help?” Maybe it’s more about us than them. We want to resolve uncomfortable situations even if they are not ours to fix.

Many people in grief have told me how upsetting it was when their family, their friends, even their doctor thought they were taking too long to “get over” their loss.

Has anyone been trying to get you back on your feet too quickly? How does that feel? What would be more helpful?

Just click on Comments below to share your experience.

Walking Through Grief

This weekend, in keeping with the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday, I was honored to walk with several people in grief. What diverse losses bring us into the grief process!

A widow told me that day would have been her 50th wedding anniversary and shared some favorite memories of her marriage.

A young woman lost her mom just a few weeks ago and is surprised at “how well” she is doing. I suspect that shock is protecting her from the full impact of losing the mom she described as her best friend.

Another woman, widowed many years ago and now remarried reflected on the residual grief that now is ready to be resolved.

Brand new grief generates acute pain. But losses from long ago can still pop up, wanting to be addressed and released.

Mourning may last a year or two, but grief is the entire process of coming to terms with the loss of someone dear to us. Don’t be surprised if a loss from long ago resurfaces with a new loss, a change of seasons, or even a holiday. It might just mean you are ready to walk with it again and do more healing.

I am Grateful

Thanksgiving has me thinking about being grateful. Some days I’m an “ungrateful wretch” – a phrase I read somewhere when I was about 14. I complain about my aches and pains, the room temperature, the government, the economy, other crabby people, you name it. Usually I am not grateful for losses in my life.

A friend of mine is dying and I’m not grateful for her suffering. I am grateful for her friends who have been showing up and bringing her love and companionship. And I’m grateful for being blessed by her friendship and wisdom.

I am also grateful for the wisdom of my new friend Carol and her lovely message on giving thanks.

May your day be blessed with love, friends and gratitude.

Whispering Hope

Soft as the voice of an angel

Breathing a lesson unheard;

Hope with a gentle persuasion

Whispers her comforting word.

-Alice Hawthorn, "Whispering Hope"

My mom’s mother, Grandma Sally lived with us from time to time when I was growing up. Grandma liked to play the piano and certain pieces still always remind me of her: “Clair de Lune” for one and “Deep Purple.” She also liked to play hymns. I thought she had a funny rolling way of playing chords, but maybe it was her Parkinson’s that added that little flourish.

Today I read the title of a very old song, “Whispering Hope” and the melody came back to me as though it was just last year instead of last century since I’d heard it! I can still hear Grandma playing those tremolo chords and singing along in her tremolo voice.

Grandma Sally has been showing up in my thoughts a lot lately. I wonder if she’s hanging around, sending encouragement. And why now, 30 years after her death? Maybe she’s whispering some hope to me.

Do you ever get the sense that a lost loved one is present? What meaning does that have for you?