With only three more weeks of GriefShare classes, HHH and I have learned more amazing things about grief. Each week, as we share a little meal, we’re getting to know each other better. Friendships have bloomed, even though grief is a deeply personal and often lonely journey. Whether someone has lost a loved one, a relationship, a pet, a dream, or a sense of stability, the stages of grief can feel overwhelming. For those walking alongside someone who is grieving, it’s sometimes hard to know what to say, or even if saying anything helps at all.
Encouragement in grief isn’t always loud or wordy. Often, it’s showing up, sitting in silence, offering a tissue, or sharing a warm meal. It’s listening without trying to explain the loss away and acknowledging their pain without insisting they move past it.
A sweet woman I knew long ago was grieving the loss of her father. He’d been everything to her. A dad. A mentor. A confidante. He was her personal encyclopedia about facts on farming and nature, having lived through 99 years. A year later, she joined a grief group even though relatives told her she should get over IT. They couldn’t understand that what she needed was the support of others who understood a tiny bit of her pain. Her relatives didn’t need that in their grief journey, but she did.
Grieving hearts need reminders that they’re not alone but that someone sees them, acknowledging their loss. Most importantly, God is there, helping them carry more of the load than they realize.
In our daily routines, it’s easy to forget those that quietly mourn. A coworker still grieving a parent years later. A neighbor who lost a spouse. A young person grappling with the death of a friend. Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. Encouragement means continuing to check in even when the casseroles are gone and the services are over.
Encouraging others through grief is sacred work, bringing a glimpse of God’s comfort to them. In grief support, members are seen, heard, and loved while learning about the normal stages of grief. Offering comfort to others reflects His heart.
There is a quiet joy in offering someone a safe place to land. While carrying peace into someone’s storm, our faith has deepened. Compassion grows and hearts expand. We begin to see people not for their pain, but as precious children of God who need tenderness, not solutions. Just being present, without pressure, can be more comforting than words.
God of all comfort, help us to be encouragers to those who grieve. Teach us to listen well, love deeply, and reflect Your compassion in quiet, faithful ways. Use us to remind the hurting that they are never alone.
I’ll be back tomorrow.