Molly Breckling
March 2, 2021
Isaiah 54:10: “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed.”
Lord, please help us to find a way to bring your peace into our lives on a daily basis. May we feel it. May we share it. And may it guide our steps as we do your bidding. Amen.
At first, I was unsure how to go about writing a devotional about peace during a time when peace seems so hard to come by. Then life found a way to guide my steps.
On February 8, my father-in-law, Bob Cowin died. He had been struggling with Alzheimer’s disease for several years, but it was a fast-acting cancer that ultimately brought him to his end. I feel I must point out that my husband and Bob had a complex relationship, and our subsequent trip to Wisconsin had far less to do with our grief than with caring for Bob’s wife and Jason’s mother, Betty. It was in this capacity that I learned the lesson I hope to impart to you here.
As far too many of us have had to learn in this last year, one of the strangest and most disconcerting aspects of losing a loved one is seeing the various ways that people reach out. As we spent a week in Wisconsin, I was struck by the ways that people sought to find their own peace by offering it to others, especially those in need. Here are some examples.
In the days following Bob’s passing, Betty received many calls, cards, and gifts. Some of these struck us as overwhelming and others a bit strange, but I found it fascinating to see how Betty responded to these tokens of caring. Betty now shares her home with 9 (yes, nine) cats, so flowers had to be placed in the one room where the cats could not get to them. Granted, some people who sent flowers were unaware of the cats, but nonetheless, it was unfortunate that she could not freely enjoy these expressions of caring. I could not help but wonder just how these tokens would help to ease her grief.
Some folks opted to stop by for a visit. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure these visits would have been welcomed, but the number of times I heard her mutter, “It’s still a pandemic,” made clear her discomfort with these spontaneous guests. As Betty has been exceptionally cautious during the pandemic to avoid infecting Bob and her own mother, who is 102 years old and in a nearby long-term care center, seeing her navigate the transition from seeing no one to hosting house guests was challenging to observe.
Yet other people brought food. By the time we left, Betty was storing leftovers in her car (a perfectly acceptable option in February in Northern Wisconsin, but nonetheless too much of a good thing). Jason and I are pleased to see that she will not have to worry about cooking for a while, but I do wonder how much of this food will nourish her body rather than end up in the trash.
The type of gift that clearly made her the least comfortable was cash. I’m not certain how $20 would possibly compensate for the loss of her husband of over 35 years, but nevertheless, there it was. As Betty’s financial security will surely change in the coming months, it was clear that accepting money from friends and family made her visibly uncomfortable. I truly hope she finds ways to make these offerings a useful part of her budget in the weeks ahead,
So, as Betty tried to determine what her new normal would look like, she also felt compelled to keep track of these gifts, so that she could respond with calls or thank-you cards. What she seemed to interpret as an added burden left me wondering why people feel compelled to offer these gestures in response to a grieving widow. I finally came to the conclusion that the answers lie in this very topic – peace
Jason’s uncle made a comment that perhaps changed everyone’s ideas of how people were responding to Betty’s loss when he said “[These gifts were] given in love and kindness. Accept them as such.” This led me to think of gestures as offerings aimed at providing her with both comfort and peace,
When someone we love is going through a difficult time, we instinctively wish them peace and comfort. But, when we see someone struggling, we sometimes feel helpless and unsure how to proceed, so we seek our own peace as we determine the best way to help. While sending flowers, food, cards, and cash may provide a modicum of peace to the recipient, we also receive a measure of peace in knowing that we have done something to reach out and offer our condolences. Romans 2:10 tells us that there will be “glory and peace for everyone who does good.” So, our gestures have positive consequences for both the gifted and the gift-giver.
The Gospel of Matthew goes on to tell us: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.” We are called to help one another as God helps us. In doing so, we bring peace to the afflicted and to ourselves, Offering gifts to someone who is grieving serves a dual purpose: we simultaneously give and receive the peace that is so desperately needed in such times.
Ultimately, I think I found the most meaningful statement in Isaiah 54:10: “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed.” May we all remember this promise from our Lord when we encounter grief that seems too great to be overcome.
Let us pray: Dear Lord, help us to find ways to share your peace with those who need it the most. May we bring comfort to those in pain and lean upon your love for us as we search for the best ways to console those who mourn. In your holy name we pray, Amen.
