So I turned my hands toward Heaven

I’m reading a bit of Understanding Your Grief again, phenomenal book. I’ve mentioned it here a few times. I flipped back a few pages to read previous notes I had written in the corresponding journal on the difference between grief and mourning.

Grief is internal. The author suggests it’s like a container that holds all of the thoughts, feelings, and images we have after a loss.

Mourning is an outward expression of that grief. I guess it would be like pouring out that container, which could look like many things; talking about the person, crying, expression through art or music, etc.

Here is part of what I wrote: “I’ve underestimated the value and necessity of mourning… how do I accept… my situation? … just accepting it without the mourning amounts to carrying around my container of grief and never putting it aside. No wonder I’m having a hard time putting my hands to another task; because they’re already full!”

It reminds me of this poem:

Treasures by Martha Snell Nicholson

One by one God took them from me,

All the things I valued most,

Till I was empty-handed;

Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth's highway, grieving,

In my rags and poverty,

Till I heard His voice inviting,

"Lift your empty hands to Me!"

So I turned my hands toward heaven,

And He filled them with a store

Of His own transcendent riches

Till they could contain no more.

And at last I comprehended

With my stupid mind and dull,

That God could not pour His riches

Into hands already full!