On the tablecloth below me, written in delicate cursive script, was a short list of what my mom was thankful for: food, family, and being together for the holidays.  It had only been two years since her death.

How could I reconcile the pieces she’d left behind with the ache of her absence?

During one of the last Thanksgivings we spent together before my mom’s cancer diagnosis, my family and friends all signed the tablecloth beneath our food and listed what we were thankful for that year. Seeing her list again made me miss her and all of the people who couldn’t join us.

Like whipped cream melting off a hot pie, those last few holidays with my mom slipped through my fingers. But still, two years later, there was her signature. The sharpie ink was still vibrant. It was the same signature that signed off her student’s grades. The one marked on my birth certificate.

Unique. Enduring. Sweet and simple.

Could I still endure? Could my life ever be sweet or simple again?

TRansforming Our GRief

We all long for things that will remain. That can be written in ink and won’t be erased. We can be thankful for the things in front of us even if our hearts ache. Being thankful doesn’t lessen or cheapen our love for people no longer here. 

I’ve heard loss described as an excess of love we have left over in our hearts after the person we’ve loved has died. We can’t express our love in same way we used to when that person lived among us. I love this image because it transforms our grief from being something we might be ashamed of into something redemptive. Not everybody grieves in the same way, but we all know what love looks like.

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” (I Corinthians 13:2).

What Do We Do WIth All That Love?

The problem is not that we don’t have love, it’s that we can’t show it in the same ways we used to.

The table is all set. The cream-colored tablecloth is down, the gold charger plates rest beside perfectly placed silverware. Unlit candles run down the center. A few dried maple leaves are tucked between vases.

But the guest of honor is missing. They’re not coming.

What do we do with our surplus of love?

“See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:19)

Take your empty tables and fill them with what you have. With who you still have. Write your blessings all over the tabletop. Get out sharpies, gel pens, ink pens, or crayons. Cover every inch of the surface if you need to.  List out all of the good things that remain in your life until your hand cramps. Write out the names of the people you miss. Look up at the faces of the people you have around you.

Don’t let your thankfulness for your loved ones fade out. Whether they sit beside you or wait at the heavenly table.

“And just as we have borne the image of the earthly man, so shall we bear the image of the heavenly man.” (1 Corinthians 15:49).