Joy Comes with the Mourning (eBook)

A Study of Loss, Grief, and Runaway Pigs

Janis Miller (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
136 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-3358-1 (ISBN)

Infos

Can one truly traverse the bumpy, painful road of grief recovery by studying runaway pigs, dead horses, roller skating librarians and an addiction to Hostess CupCakes? As an innovative approach to grief recovery, 'Joy Comes with the Mourning', a new book by Janis Shanahan Miller, does just that. Miller shares hilarious anecdotal stories of her life that lead to particular insights into the healing process after loss, and a deeper relationship with God in Christ. After losing her husband of fifty years to a tragic car accident, the author read numerous books on the grieving process, books which often did more to deepen her depression and sorrow, and that were frequently written by people who had not suffered the losses about which they had written. After six months of reading, praying and willing herself to achieve a better frame of mind, she made the decision to write a book about losses of all kinds and their accompanying grief but from the aspect of joy rather than sorrow. The author's reliance on God's guidance is in every page, displaying the truths she has learned. The judges at the 2021 Asheville Christian Writers Conference described 'Joy Comes with the Mourning' this way after presenting Miller with one of two Sparrow Awards for non-fiction: 'This is such a great way to come at the grieving process. It is beautifully written and lives up to its title; it's a fresh voice speaking eloquently yet authoritatively on a sensitive subject.' It is hoped that anyone who selects 'Joy Comes with the Mourning' will find the enjoyment of good storytelling and inspiration forged by God's presence in the life of the author. The stories of lives touched by loss will eventually come to all, believer and non-believer alike, but 'Joy Comes with the Mourning' can lead the way to a 'happily-ever-after' ending. Addiction to Hostess CupCakes is purely optional.

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Can one truly traverse the bumpy, painful road of grief recovery by studying runaway pigs, dead horses, roller skating librarians and an addiction to Hostess CupCakes? As an innovative approach to grief recovery, "e;Joy Comes with the Mourning"e;, a new book by Janis Shanahan Miller, does just that. Miller shares hilarious anecdotal stories of her life that lead to particular insights into the healing process after loss, and a deeper relationship with God in Christ. After losing her husband of fifty years to a tragic car accident, the author read numerous books on the grieving process, books which often did more to deepen her depression and sorrow, and that were frequently written by people who had not suffered the losses about which they had written. After six months of reading, praying and willing herself to achieve a better frame of mind, she made the decision to write a book about losses of all kinds and their accompanying grief but from the aspect of joy rather than sorrow. The author's reliance on God's guidance is in every page, displaying the truths she has learned. The judges at the 2021 Asheville Christian Writers Conference described "e;Joy Comes with the Mourning"e; this way after presenting Miller with one of two Sparrow Awards for non-fiction: "e;This is such a great way to come at the grieving process. It is beautifully written and lives up to its title; it's a fresh voice speaking eloquently yet authoritatively on a sensitive subject."e;It is hoped that anyone who selects "e;Joy Comes with the Mourning"e; will find the enjoyment of good storytelling and inspiration forged by God's presence in the life of the author. The stories of lives touched by loss will eventually come to all, believer and non-believer alike, but "e;Joy Comes with the Mourning"e; can lead the way to a "e;happily-ever-after"e; ending. Addiction to Hostess CupCakes is purely optional.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

Cats on a Plane

Inspired by the movie Snakes on a Plane

“But thanks be to God who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.”

2 Corinthians 2:14

My young grandson, Max, had just helped me carry in the last of the groceries and we began putting them away. He was trying to earn some money so he could buy a bow and arrow set once he convinced his parents that he would not use it in the house or against his sisters. Putting the groceries away was the last of the agreed-upon chores and I went to pay him, at which point I realized I’d lost my wallet.

Panic immediately set in as I imagined all the terrible implications of losing my credit cards, insurance cards, drivers’ license, and so on. Being an exceedingly logical six-year-old, Max suggested I look in my purse, with his sound thinking revealing that I had lost my purse, my cell phone and car keys as well. Max, besides having a logical mind also has wicked sense of humor and suggested that perhaps I’d lost all my marbles as well.

Ignoring the six-year-old comedian, I back-tracked my movements from the time we returned from the market and realized I’d left my purse in the car when we got home. I rushed to the garage and thankfully retrieved my purse, phone, and car keys. Neither the wallet nor the marbles were yet to be found.

Max and I searched high and low in the car, pantry shelves, kitchen drawers, coat pockets, and discarded grocery bags. It was only when I took time out from the search to fix Max some lunch, which included a glass of chocolate milk, that the wallet turned up, tucked safely away in the refrigerator in the bag that contained the milk. But my marbles were still lost…and then I lost my husband.

I miss my husband! Everyone called him “Captain” for his rank, having served twenty-five years in the US Coast Guard; I called him by his middle name, Bob, throughout our high school days and changed to calling him by his given name, Max, after he entered the service of our country. The grandchildren called him “Cappy.” And to say I miss him encompasses so many feelings–faith in the sovereignty of God, my sorrow at the loss of my love and best friend, frustration at being left alone to deal with the difficulties of life, longing for his presence, and joy for all the years and memories we shared. I smile when I look at his picture, thinking about the simple things I miss most.

I miss holding hands as we walked through the parking lot at the grocery store. I miss his fussing at the cat, knowing he’d always relent and let her snuggle next to him each night. I miss the Captain’s cooking, especially since we both knew I couldn’t cook. Case in point: he took my first attempt at meatloaf and offered it to a stray dog who, just as he had done, declined to eat it.

I miss antiquing with him, though my search to find that perfect piece of furniture for our home often ended in his finding the perfect Budweiser beer mug to add to his collection. I miss his pacing during tight football games and eating homemade chili with him on cold evenings. I miss traveling in the car with the Captain when we would harmonize with the songs on the radio, knowing he would make up words when he couldn’t remember the lyrics. He sang his version with such gusto and assurance that I frequently came to believe that the lyricist got it wrong: “You and me, endlessly” became “you and me and Leslie.” I often wondered who Leslie was.

But what I miss most about my husband are his hugs. Max gave great hugs; his big arms wrapped around me and held me tight, keeping me safe in his embrace. And as he held me, I breathed in the scent of his aftershave. In high school, it was British Sterling or English Leather, but as we grew older, he gravitated toward Calvin Klein’s Obsession. I’ve kept the Captain’s last bottle, sometimes spraying it on one of his shirts I wear while painting. Just last week, the scent of his aftershave flooded my mind with a memory, and I chuckled, thinking about a long-forgotten time when we took the family cat on a plane ride from Alaska to Texas.

We were in the last four seats of an Alaskan Airlines “red-eye” as it flew through the night from Anchorage, Alaska, to Houston, Texas. Max and I sat side-by-side with our two sons across the aisle from us and the family cat in a carrier lodged under the seat in front of me. Unlike today, when people travel with their therapy cats, therapy dogs, therapy peacocks, therapy snakes, and other “necessary” creatures, Pywackett was just our family pet and, as such, had to be contained in an ASPCA-approved cat carrier. Unfortunately, the ASPCA did not consider the litter box needs of a cat on a nine-hour flight or the reaction of said cat when the plane encountered a thunderstorm. With the first big bump and clap of thunder, Pywackett let out a howl that raised the collective blood pressure of passengers and crew. Aromatically speaking, Pywackett also let something else out, and though I tried to pretend the sudden stench was a bag of rancid peanuts, the nearby passengers awoke to an odor reminiscent of a skunk that had eaten broccoli.

Our two sons, both former Boy Scouts like their father, quickly realized the peanut story was “fake news” and jumped into action. One retrieved Max’s shaving kit from under the seat and snatched the bottle of Calvin Klein’s Obsession, while the other grabbed the ASCPA-approved cat carrier and fled to the bathroom adjacent to our seats. How both of our six-foot-plus sons along with a cat carrier managed to get into a single airplane bathroom, I will never know. I do know that when the door to that bathroom opened, the feline stench was gone, replaced by the overpowering allure of Obsession. And while I am sure the boys meant to give the cat a quick spritz, evidently there had been a sibling struggle over who would do the spritzing. About half a bottle of aftershave was doused on the cat.

Suddenly, other passengers began to complain about sinus headaches and fragrance allergies. Our family of four sat straight-faced with innocent expressions and prayed for a tailwind to get us to our destination more quickly.

Upon arriving at the Houston airport, we realized the hotel shuttle probably would not want our odiferous family on board, so I headed for the ladies’ room (the cat was a female too) and tried to wash her in the sink. The washing part was met with growls and whines, but there was no outright feline insurrection until I foolishly headed to the hand dryer. I do recall the kindness my husband showed me at the first aid station, where he tried to explain away my clothes infused with both cat hair and aftershave while the smirking attendant apologized for having to use so many tiny Hello Kitty adhesive bandages on my arms. She claimed she was only used to dealing with small children, not big babies.

The trip my husband and I took for so many years of life cannot be compared with a plane ride, a cruise ship, or even a visit to the grocery store. My flesh-and-blood traveling companion is gone, but because of Christ’s covenant with us both, my memory of the Captain travels with me, and the uplifting support I feel from that memory, along with the help of the Holy Spirit, is enough to sustain me.

I’ve heard it said that powerful memories are most often evoked by our sense of smell. Indeed, Proverbs 27:9 says, “Oil and fragrance make the heart glad.” And Paul shares the importance of fragrance in Ephesians 5:1–2: “Therefore be imitators of God as beloved children; And walk in love as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” The “fragrant offering” of Max’s aftershave was the catalyst that evoked my memories and brought me closer to some truths that God intended for me to learn.

Remembering our losses in life is a natural occurrence that can immobilize us with grief. As I wrestled with my painful memories of a crushed truck and a husband lying dead, I knew I needed a means to counterbalance those memories. I specifically set out thinking about and doing other things. After starting and ending each day with a prayer of thanksgiving to God, my solace was found in music—playing the piano, listening to music, rereading the words to favorite hymns. In the evening, which was the most difficult time for me, I would lose myself in a good mystery. The point is that I did not allow myself to live in a constant state of grief.

Finding a momentary alternative to grief is paramount to becoming emotionally healthy. For the reader, it may be as simple as taking a walk, reading a book, painting a picture, writing a song, or trying a new recipe so that the mind has a chance to recharge before you face your grief again. Misery needs to be given a short rest.

Praying a prayer of thanksgiving each day may seem counter to the loss you are trying to overcome, but “misery loves company,” and when we pray, we are in the company of the Lord, who understands our loss because of the death of His Son on the cross. And knowing that God understands our grief can help lift the heavy burden of painful memories.

As painful as any loss may be, the memories of that loss can actually be an experience of personal growth. It can be a time of sharing your feelings by talking to a good friend, starting a journal of your thoughts, pouring out your sorrows to the Lord, or just sitting quietly and...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 8.3.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Geisteswissenschaften ► Religion / Theologie ► Christentum
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-3358-1 / 9798350933581