God’s Intervening Miracles Amidst Grief ✨
Hello! It has been too long since I’ve written, and I have missed you.
The past several months of my life align with this Advent season of grief awaiting God’s intervening miracles, as we’ve:
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Passed over 800,000 COVID deaths this past week and may be choosing not to gather with loved ones this Christmas out of safety concerns for one another.
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Witnessed white support for Black Lives Matter dwindle to 34% from a high of 52% in June 2022, a month after George Floyd was murdered. Meanwhile Black and African-American support has risen to 82%, and Hispanic/Latine support has risen to 57% (Civiqs tracking of BLM support from 2017-2021)
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Put on the back burner immigration reform that continues to be blocked at the expense of vulnerable and displaced individuals and families who remain detained in inhuman conditions, fear for their lives, and die on the path to liberation.
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Wrestle with the exploitation of capitalism and the impact it has on our individual and collective lives.
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Feel helpless as Women’s reproductive and LGBTQ+ rights are not just rolled back, but our lives deemed criminal by States, and complicit federal and Supreme Courts.
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All among many more personal and shared griefs of where death has been present in our lives.
The weight of this grief can cause us to go silent, turn away, to focus on ourselves, and to stop paying attention to the pains of the world that seem well beyond our control.
It is an act of self preservation, an effort to prevent further injury and pain. There is only so much we can take as we seek God’s intervention in our powerlessness and hopelessness.
It is into this too silent world of overwhelming pain and grief that Jesus was born. An intervening miracle from God who teaches us a new way of loving and being in relationship to God and one another.
Born into poverty to two young refugee parents fleeing the violence of King Herod who would have their newborn son killed, Jesus arrives into an empire of corruption, greed, and injustice.
I’ve been silent for a while, and now relearning to trust my voice from the unsteady depths of grief. Perhaps you’ve experienced this kind of quieting grief in your life too.
The first part of this public silence was scheduled, my parental leave. I spent months caring for my newborn son Luca, healing from an emergency cesarean, grieving that I could not breastfeed because I don’t produce enough milk—just 3 ounces a day despite trying everything, and battling with resulting Postpartum Depression (PPD).
I returned to work at the end of my leave and four days later my mom died suddenly and unexpectedly. This trauma ripped a hole in the center of my being, leaving an aching grip on my heart.
Many days I desperately wanted to “get to the other side” and “move on” from grief…but I can’t, and we can’t. That isn’t how grief works.
Grief is a part of loving and living. It is not a hill to be climbed, a disease to survive, nor a milestone to surpass. Grief is an experience that weaves throughout our lives, coming and going like the waves of the ocean. Sometimes grief is a tsunami, at other times a gentle lapping as high tide surrenders to low tide.
How we make meaning of grief is an opportunity to allow God’s Holy Spirit to work in our lives. By “making meaning,” I don’t mean the common practice of dismissing grief or the belief that God takes people from us for God’s purposes. I don’t believe that a loving, Creator God takes our lives or loved ones from us.
What I do believe is that we can make meaning of our lives alongside the grief. We can reflect on what we received and learned from our loved ones and how we carry the best of who they were forward in ourselves and teach it to others. At other times, we learn not to replicate the worst of who someone was. Grief doesn’t just come from healthy relationships, sometimes we experience grief at the death of harmful and dysfunctional relationships too—people and love are complicated, and at times paradoxical.
Making meaning of grief comes in our reflection, learning, and resulting action in how we live and love in this world individually and collectively.
In our grief we seek God’s intervening miracles, those people, places, and experiences that save us and help us make meaning. I hope that this Advent and Christmas season you will spend some time looking for God’s intervening miracles in your life. It can be easy to overlook them in the busy-ness of the season, or when we feel too close to the bottom of our grief.
For me, God’s intervening miracles took many forms. I hope my sharing might help you recognize both yourself as an intervening miracle in another’s life and where others have been an intervening miracle in your life.
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In the family and friends who held me as I wept, kept reaching out when I wasn’t able to respond, brought over dinners, invited my family to socialize with their family knowing we weren’t our most social selves, listened without offering “fixes,” and kept finding ways to let me know I was loved
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In doctors and healers who were present in some of my most difficult hours, and offered both modern and traditional medicine, and spiritual direction
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Colleagues who took walks in the park with me
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Two church homes that grieved with me and hold me with grace
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The opportunity to swim and have dinner with my dad on the nights that my husband Keith works
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Sunny walks to the post office with Luca to check the Juniper Formation P.O. Box, friendly greetings from neighbors, and neighbors who took the time to really see how I was doing. One who donated her breastmilk to Luca, which fed him for his first five months.
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The many gifts and donations received from many of you and grants we’ve received to support Juniper Formation
Of course, one of God’s greatest intervening miracles in my life was the birth of my son Luca, who wakes up each morning smiling and giggling, bringing life and laughter into my pain and grief. It is also a joy to watch my husband become a father, my father become a grandfather, and of course my mother become a grandmother, if just for a short while.
I imagine that alongside their fears and grief, baby Jesus brought Mary and Joseph deep hope, peace, joy, love, and laughter too.
And so each of us looks for God’s interventions and miracles in our lives and world, seeking the people and opportunities to be loved and to love one another more deeply.
I hope you will join us on Zoom this Wednesday, December 22, 2021, for a Gathering to grieve and lament, knowing that these life experiences come alongside the miracle of Jesus’ birth, and that there is sacredness in the darkness.
Alongside the pain and grief, where are you finding hope, peace, joy, love, and laughter this season?
In Christ,
Rev. Dr. Jenny Whitcher,
Minister of Prophetic Formation
