Laughter and humor are an important part of life. The book of Proverbs says “a cheerful heart is good medicine” (Proverbs 17:22). Generally speaking, all of us could use more laughter in our lives.

Certainly there’s a time for laughter, but we sometimes use humor to hide.

Sometimes laughter or making a joke is part of a cover-up. We can joke around as a way to hide from others so they won’t take us seriously. Many of us have learned to play the clown and hide a lot of deep heartache behind our humor or wit.

While it’s true that “a cheerful heart is good medicine,” the book of Proverbs also says, “Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains” (Proverbs 14:13).

Although laughter can mask the pain, it eventually wears off. The pain is still there, and the most healthy thing we can do is acknowledge it to ourselves, to others and to God.

Are you hiding some pain behind humor? Perhaps it’s time to turn your laughter into mourning (Ecclesiastes 7:3-4) and allow others and God to get close enough to carry your burden and comfort your heart.

We’re attending the funeral for the same reason we’ve called and texted our friend over the past week. He loved his brother dearly, and he’s reeling from such a profound and sudden loss. We can’t begin to take away the pain of his loss, but our presence is a small but meaningful way to rally around our friend and show that we care.

Jesus modeled how important the presence of others is during a time of grief. The night He was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane, when His soul was crushed with grief to the point of death, Jesus asked a few of His disciples to sit and pray with him (Matthew 26:36-38). They couldn’t take His grief away either, but He desired, even needed their company and prayers.

Just as Jesus needed others to be with Him in His time of need—we need others too. Having others around comforts a grieving heart more than we know.

For those of you who have followed the HelpForMyLife.org blogs over the past year,  you may remember Kevin and Dawn. I featured them in my December 22, 2010 blog, A child is born . . . and one is taken. What a privilege to be with this amazing couple!

Their story is one of sorrow and grief, courage and compassion, endurance and hope. Having lost their precious son, Braeden, to cancer just a little over two and a half years ago, just shy of his 4th birthday, they allowed us to take the journey of grief with them as they shared their story.

And it’s a story worth telling.

Our hope in this new year is to launch a new portion of our website that features the stories of real people with real struggles that requires real faith. We’re thinking of calling it, The Journey Through . . . series. It’s because we’re always in process. We don’t arrive until we’re finally and fully restored in the presence of our good God. So on this earth, we’re all journeying through something.

For Kevin, Dawn and their remaining children, their hurt hasn’t evaporated over the past year. They quickly dismissed the notion that “time heals all wounds.” It doesn’t. Braeden’s absence at their Christmas celebration this year is just as poignant and painful as last year and the year before. But they also reflected something that only they can through this journey through grief . . . hope.

Kevin and Dawn readily admit they’re not immune to grief. Neither are they incapacitated by it. Instead, they are inspired by hope. They are using their experience to touch others who have lost children too. They want to share what they’ve learned on this journey they never chose, but that chose them.

What became very clear to all of us who witnessed their story first hand is this:

They have a story to tell. And we have the privilege of telling it.

Their story is not about a destination, but a journey through grief.

Their story is not over yet. They are still on the journey, they haven’t given up . . . because they have hope.

Why? How? As they would tell you emphatically, “God is in this.”

And their story inspires me to hope too.

So as you celebrate this holiday season with your family and friends, be grateful for those who are present, grieve over those who are not, and always remember the  glorious Hope that arrived under the cover of darkness to a couple in a stable 2000 years ago who is our Prince of Peace who heals the brokenhearted and brings comfort to the grieving (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Merry Christmas.

And, look for Dawn and Kevin’s story of hope in the new year at HelpForMyLife.org.

I remembered that I had read an article in the newspaper about an organization called The Compassionate Friends, a place to help grieving families after the death of a child. I told my friend about Compassionate Friends and an event CF started 15 years ago: The Worldwide Candle Lighting night. Each year, the second Sunday in December is dedicated to remembering, honoring, and reflecting on the lives of children who died. December 11, 2011 is the Worldwide Candle Lighting night, and this is a time where families can attend a special service in their area or light a candle at 7:00 p.m., wherever they are, to honor their child.

Holidays can be difficult for many reasons, but especially for those whose child has died – at any age and from any cause.  Whether this is the first Christmas without your child or the 25^th, you will never be the same without your son or daughter. Your child’s death has markedly changed you.  The grief you feel and the changes that take place as a result of your child’s death validate the significance, meaning, and love of your relationship with your child.

If you have lost a child or you know someone who has, I recommend this website as a source of hope and healing:  www.compassionatefriends.org.  There is also a place to post a remembrance note about your son or daughter. It’s one way a family can express their grief, share their memories, honor their child, and maybe even find new friends who can help them along this arduous journey.

The executive director of CF, Patricia Loder, wrote that the reason they do the Worldwide Candle Lighting is so that the child’s “light may always shine.”

What a beautiful picture of a child:  light; like a star’s light breaking through the darkness.

Let’s pray for the families that are grieving the loss of a child this holiday season. We can help carry their burden by praying for them, lighting a candle for their child, weeping with them, listening to them, and allowing them to grieve naturally. There is no time table and parents who’ve lost a child never ever “get over it.”  They need to grieve their incredibly deep loss for as long as it takes.

If you’d like, please use this space to post a remembrance note about your dearly loved and missed child.

Frank Graeff experienced just that as a pastor who went through some ve­ry dif­fi­cult tri­als.  Graeff was wrestling through a time of profound de­spond­en­cy, doubt and phys­ic­al pain. When he turned to God’s Word, 1 Peter 5:7 was the text that caught his eye and touched his heart: “casting all your anxieties on him (God), because he cares for you.”

Peter’s words provided a level of com­fort and encouragement that–while not relieving his pain–bolstered his heart with the tender reassurance of God’s loving care: “He cares for you.” Af­ter med­i­ta­ting on that truth, Graeff was inspired to write the lyri­cs to a song that reverberated from a grateful heart that knew what it meant to struggle with despair:

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained Too deeply for mirth and song
As the burdens press, and the cares distress, And the way grows weary and long?

Refrain:
O yes, He cares I know He cares! His heart is touched with my grief
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares

Does Jesus care when my way is dark With a nameless dread and fear?
As the daylight fades into deep night shades, Does He care enough to be near?

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed To resist some temptation strong
When for my deep grief I find no relief Tho my tears flow all the night long?

Does Jesus care when I’ve said goodbye To the dearest on earth to me
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks Is it aught to Him? does He see?

So, if you have ever wondered like most of us have as to whether or not Jesus cares about the struggles and pain you are currently facing that seem insurmountable, Frank’s answer is a resounding “Yes!” And I agree.

If you have a story of pain and struggle where you’ve experience the restoration of the God who cares, please feel free to share your story to encourage others along the path that they are not alone and can make it too.

I remember sitting at this desk–the same desk where I’m writing this blog from today–and the president of our ministry coming down the hall and informing us that a plane had just hit Tower 1 and that there were some concerns that it may have been a terrorist attack. Several of us quickly crammed into the TV edit studio to watch a live news feed on a small monitor. That’s when we witnessed the second plane slamming into Tower 2. It’s a memory that I’ll never forget.

But remembering is not only a collective effort on the part of a nation or people. It’s also intensely personal as well. In a sense, yesterday reminded many of us that we are all called to remember.

It’s good to remember . . . even when it hurts.

Without memory, we’re lost. We’re left meandering around in the muddle of our seemingly disjointed lives without the handrails of perspective that only memory can provide. Remembering plays a critical role in our lives: it helps us find not only our place in our own stories but also in God’s larger story.

Without memory, we don’t know where we’ve come from, where we are, or where we’re going for that matter. Why? Because we have no reference point, no North Star to help us get our bearings to find our place in the story of our lives.

Without memory, we don’t know what we’ve endured or enjoyed, what we like or dislike, what we need to celebrate or grieve, what we need to let go of or cling to, or what we need to forgive or how to live on even when we’re hurting.

The Bible affirms the importance of memory. A quick search with Bible software for the word “remember” reveals 231 usages of the word in both the Old and New Testaments. If you also search for the word “forget” (the opposite of remember), you get an additional 64 passages.

What’s the point?

God places a premium on remembering and not forgetting what’s really important. Perspective is born out of our memories. And perspective that is proven trustworthy in our darkest hours can also be trusted to carry us forward into the uncertainty of each new day.

The Apostle Paul wrote a powerful call to remember in his letter to the Ephesians, where remembering becomes the fertile context for a new hope:

Remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ . . . through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. (Eph. 2:12,13,18)

Remembering is crucial to hope. To remember God’s faithfulness in the past serves as a continual reminder that we can trust Him for our present and future.

There is much more to be said about memory and how God uses it, but that’s enough from me for now. Now it’s your turn. Maybe God is in the process of redeeming some of your memories. If you’d like to share them here, we’re listening.

This scene was captured just two weeks ago at the funeral of Petty Officer 1st Class Jon T. Tumilson who was one of 30 American troops, including 22 Navy SEALs, who were killed when a Taliban insurgent downed a Chinook helicopter with a rocket-propelled grenade on Aug. 6, 2011. Lisa Pembleton took the photo and posted it on her Facebook page in memory of her cousin.

What captured my heart were two words: loyalty and grief.

Even in death, Hawkeye, Tumilson’s cherished black Lab, demonstrated his undying loyalty as he lay faithfully by the side of his fallen master. Dogs grieve too. I don’t know about other animals, because my experience has been with dogs, but trust me . . . they grieve.

In my mind, there are few things that communicate loyalty and devotion more than a faithful dog. Hence, the royal description, of “man’s best friend.”

I’ve often said that someday I’m going to write a book about what my dogs have taught me about God. Not only do I think my dogs would wage their tails in playful agreement, but I think God would be delighted as well. There is so much in our world that speaks to the presence of our awesome God if we would just take the time to stop, look, and listen.

Hawkeye’s display of unflinching loyalty is obvious even to the casual viewer. But God’s abiding loyalty is frequently overlooked, or worse, dismissed. And for those of us who call ourselves Jesus followers, the call is to be loyal to Him who is always faithful.

Semper Fidelis is the motto for the U.S. Marine Corps. It’s Latin for “always faithful.” While I doubt Hawkeye was fluent in Latin and I know he wasn’t a member of The Core, it’s clear that he got the concept and modeled it faithfully. But it didn’t originate with him. The One who created him instilled faithfulness in him for us to witness in canine form. God is the originator, the architect  who epitomizes loyalty and faithfulness.

Jesus’ last words to His 12 most loyal followers were: “surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20). Throughout the pages of Scripture, in both the Old and New Testaments, the reassuring refrain that brings comfort, dispels discouragement, musters courage, and spawns loyalty in the followers of God is the promise of His faithfulness–His loyal presence with and for those He loves:

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord our God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6)

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” (Josh. 1:9)

“. . . because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’ So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?’” (Heb. 13:5,6)

The loyalty of a faithful dog is a touching reminder of “how much more” the loyalty of our faithful God is our ultimate source of hope, comfort, strength and security through any adversity that we face.

Now it’s your turn. Many of you have witnessed loyalty. We’d love to hear your story of how God’s loyalty has touched your life? What or who did He use? Maybe it was a long time ago? Maybe it was just recently? When has He made His presence known to you in desperate times, whispering to you “I’m here. I’m always faithful?”

Do you ever read passages in the Bible that are just maddening? I sure do. Count it all joy? Are you kidding?

Or is it our understanding of what James meant that needs to be adjusted?

Listen in as Larry Crabb describes for us how grief fits in with James’s view of joy. I found it helpful and I think you will too.

I’ve been gone.

It’s been a rainy season for me and my family.

“When it rains, it pours,” was a saying my Grandma would often use when things were piling up and we were feeling overwhelmed. You know, like when when the muffler falls off the car, then the hot water heater sprouts a leak and floods half the basement, and the door on the toaster oven breaks and you have to jamb a pencil in the latch to make it work because you just spent what money you had on getting the items needed to get your kids prepared for the new school year.

You know what I mean.

Don’t you?

But those kinds of things aren’t life-changing. Frankly, they’re just plain annoying.

But what about when significant losses begin stacking up one on top of the other? That’s not just annoying. That’s overwhelming. Drowning or suffocating is more like it.

That’s been my summer so far.

My wife fell on April 29th, tearing all three hamstring muscles away from the bone on her right leg. Surgery was require to reattach them. Twelve weeks in a brace and no weight bearing, followed by 42 weeks of extensive physical therapy. Yep, that’s 54 weeks total recovery.

On May 13th my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died 3 weeks later on June 3 at 81 years of age. A shock to all of us since she seemed so healthy just 6 weeks prior to the diagnosis.

Then my dad began to fail. Alzheimer’s had been stealing his life away for the past 7 years. He didn’t know mom or any of us for most of the past 2-3 years. And in spite of the fact that we didn’t tell him about mom’s death, after 60 years of marriage, he somehow just seemed to know that his sole mate had gone home to heaven to await his arrival. And he didn’t waste much time. 8 weeks and one day later he arrived to greet her with a healed body and mind.

Yesterday I snapped at my 20-year-old daughter about something I thought she was negligent about. Her defenses shot up. We both felt the tension tighten. She called me on my “accusational” tone. She was right. And I knew it.

She asked me what was going on with me. I didn’t know, but soon I was reduced to tears. And I still didn’t know why.

Then it hit me: “I’ve got no emotional margins left. I’m depleted.Wrung out. Overloaded.” The losses have piled up around me. I just buried both of my parents within 2 months. My wife has begun a long road to recovery. And I feel buried emotionally.”

The journey through grief is a long one. Especially when it’s compounded by multiple losses. “Personal, painful loss forces a door open into the deep parts of our soul, exposing what which we’d just as soon not admit exists, let alone face”(p. 3). I believe that. I wrote that 20 years ago in a booklet on grief, How Can I Live With My Loss? Now I’m re-living it afresh.

Loss is as common as the air we breathe. But our journey through grief is unique to each of us. I’m on that journey. Maybe you are too. Let me reassure you with words from my Father that I find deeply encouraging and comforting in the middle of turmoil that is so disconcerting:

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6)

“. . . because God has said,  “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” (Heb. 13:5)

What’s reassuring for me is that I’m never alone on this messy journey of grief after a loss. And neither are you if you’ve put your hope in the God who raises the dead.

I’m sure there will be more to come as I process what God is doing in me because of these losses. For now, knowing He’s always with me is what keeps me going.

On Sunday, I was thinking about decisions I’ve made over the past 10 years. Many of the choices brought me so much happiness. They’ve brought me joy like nothing else.  But as I sat on my couch, an overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction rose up inside. I questioned a couple of significant decisions I’d made.

I felt sick to my stomach. I thought I had done the right thing at the time. No, I knew I had. So why now the doubt?

There were pros and cons to each side of this one particular decision. Each side had its significant life-changing side-effects. This was not a moral dilemma; it was a choice of preference.  Do I prefer it this way or that way?  I chose this way.  Now I wish I had chosen that way.

Either way required a sacrifice on my part.  And what I’d sacrificed for choosing route “A”, resurrected itself in me and it was as if it was fighting for justice, a fair trial, like it was saying, “Hey!  Look at me! You can’t just toss me aside as if I don’t matter.” And I felt intense pain because of what I gave up. I didn’t see it or feel it then as clearly as I did just a few days ago.

The feelings scared me. Had I sinned? How could I have been so wrong? How can I know anything? What if I will always regret this decision? What if I live for the rest of my life with this sinking feeling of what I’d given up? Oh God, I prayed, I can’t live like this.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Help me, God. Despair swam around me, like a shark about to devour any happiness I had.

Then I felt a bit of a nudge toward something. Grief.  Grieve what you’ve lost, Allison. Feel your pain, express it, and push through it. Don’t run from it, numb it, push it down. Don’t despair.   Because despair is the result of believing that what I lost would have saved me; that it was my source of life.

It’s not. Nothing will save me or give me life, except Jesus.

And, with my husband beside me, with his help, this is what I ended up with:  whispering His name:  Jesus. In that desperate moment, Jesus became my answer. He is all I need. He is more than sufficient.

If my life depends on my ability to make “good”, non-regrettable decisions, I’m doomed. I can’t rely on myself to give me what I need. Only one person can do that. Jesus Christ.

Rarely has there been a clear-cut path to where I should go or what I should do. And the times when I’ve been so sure of myself, I now question some of those decisions. My point isn’t that we can’t ever be sure of ourselves or know what a right path is. It’s that I realize that I’m in the thick woods of life. It’s complicated and difficult at times. Even when it seems easy, it’s not. I step forward, and a limb hits me in the face. The brush is so thick I can’t see two feet in front of me.  And the path is uneven, too. How many times I’ve stepped into a hole and stumbled.

The message of the cross, which is love, is power to us who are being saved (1 Corinthians 1:18.) And God will destroy the wisdom of the wise, the intelligent of the intelligent (v 19.) He will make Himself known through His love, not through the wisdom of man.

Walk by faith, not by sight. Moment by moment, seek love and follow Jesus. I think that that, not making good decisions, is the point of life.