SOLACE: Soul + Grief

Autumn, Grief, Hope

Candee Lucas Season 4 Episode 46

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We trace how fall’s shifts mirror grief, moving from the first sting of emptiness to practical safety steps, group support, and spiritual care. Poems by Paula Porter and a closing meditation widen hope, and we share ways to plan for the holidays with honesty and rest.

• honoring the rawness of early grief and the image of autumn’s balance
• fear named as part of grief and steps to face it
• practical safety ideas for living alone and learning new tasks
• asking friends and family to teach skills and share load
• joining grief groups and keeping a journal to track progress
• making flexible holiday plans with rest, ritual, and remembrance
• poetry as a container for feeling and a mirror for seasons
• spiritual support through Ignatian practice and community resources
• reminders that help, love, and change are already in motion

We talk about pacing your learning and honoring limits, because healing does not happen on a deadline. Journaling becomes a quiet partner that clarifies fears and tracks progress you might otherwise miss. With the holidays approaching, I offer a flexible planning framework that includes time with others, time to rest, and time to remember your beloved in ways that feel true. 

Please support us by subscribing on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, or Spotify.  If you have questions about spiritual direction while grieving, or grief support or grief groups in your community, my contact information is in the show notes.

SPIRITUAL DIRECTION WHILE GRIEVING IS AVAILABLE

Art:  https://www.etsy.com/shop/vasonaArts?ref=seller-platform-mcnav
and 
https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/candee-lucas

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SFH4Z6

Music and sound effects today by:   via Pixabay


Candee:

Welcome to Solace: + Grief. I'm glad you're here. My name is Candee Lucas. I'm a grief chaplain and a spiritual director for those who are grieving and those who seek spiritual direction for the 19th annotation of St. Ignatius. I was trained by the Jesuits at Santa Clara University and the Jesuit Retreat Center in Los Altos, California. When I started this ministry more than four years ago, I had hoped to create a place where folks who were grieving could come in any stage of grief, whether it was fresh grief that is still very raw and hard to fathom, or whether you'd been on that grief path for a while. Most of us know how useful it is to have God on our side while we're grieving. And one of the things I hope most is that we put you in touch with that spiritual portion of your life. Remember, you're always welcome in this circle of love and support.

Candee:

Today I share some thoughts from various different writings in general about fall and grieving and the upcoming holidays. Fall's transformations are remarkable. Trees change into a symphony of color and movement. The transition from summer to autumn is stunning and obvious. The transitions in grief are less obvious but equally stunning. As leaves tumble down, branches are left empty. People in grief may feel this emptiness in every level of their being. The empty chair, the unheard laughter, and the absence of touch are painful reminders of loss. An array of feelings from fear, loneliness, and anger to guilt, shock, and relief may move through us like a powerful wind. It takes great strength to turn into this gale, facing these feelings of loss and bending with them until they begin to subside. The storm of emotion may leave us feeling exhausted, but ultimately clearer about what brings meaning to the present.

Candee:

Autumn is a time of balance, when light and dark and heat and cold find equilibrium. We too can find balance in fullness and emptiness. Pain and appreciation, work and rest. We gradually begin to see the possibilities of a life with meaning and hope. The other side of grief is seeing what it is to live. Remember it was C.S. Lewis who said, No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. Here are some suggestions to help as you face the fear of being alone or the challenge of performing tasks that are new to you. Remember, take it slowly. Not everything has to be done or learned immediately. Contact your local police department to ask how to better secure your home. Talk with others who live alone to find what they do to feel safe. Ask family and friends to help you in your learning transition. Whether it's balancing a checkbook or learning to cook or help with the computers, ask them to come teach you. Consider hiring outside help for things like yard work, bill paying or housekeeping. If you once shared these responsibilities, you may not be able to do them all. Be realistic about your own health and capabilities. For example, don't endanger yourself by climbing a ladder if this is unsafe. Talk with people you trust andor join a group to talk about your thoughts, fears, and feelings. Being with others that understand and can support you can be the greatest gift that you give yourself. Keep a journal. Writing down your fears and feelings gives them clarity, which can help dispel fears. As you reflect on your writing over time, you will notice the progress. You will recognize patterns and learn some things about yourself.

Candee:

As the holidays approach, think about what your needs are and develop a flexible plan. Allow time with others, time to rest and time to remember. Attend a grief workshop or remembrance event. The beauty of the changing season cannot be denied. The colors of the autumn leaves unfold a new beauty that no other season can match. Amidst our grief, we may have moments that allow us to reminisce and reflect on the beauty of our beloved and the joy that their lives brought to us.

Candee:

And here is a thoughtful poem from Paula Porter. We buried you in the winter, time frozen, emotions numb, a chill settled on my heart. Spring came green and growing. The ice jam thawed and pain gushed, flooding into my heart. I mucked through living. Summer brought a drought, shriveling up growth, scorching my tears, a suffocating bitterness. I sweltered in the intensity of my oppressive loss. And now that autumn approaches, I harvest my grief, gleaning a record yield, my larder full, hoarding provisions because pain can't hibernate during the long lonely winter. The hardest words for us to hear.

Candee:

You can turn to your church or parish or local hospices for grief support, especially during the holidays. Or reach out to me here at my email that appears in the show notes if you are looking for a companion's group or other spiritual support while grieving. Remember that Thomas More said --the heart that truly loved never forgets--.

Candee:

And finally we close with a poem called "Someone":

Candee:

Right now there are Tibetan Buddhist monks in a temple in the Himalayas, endlessly reciting mantras for the cessation of your suffering and for the flourishing of your happiness. Someone you haven't met yet is already dreaming of adoring you. Someone is writing a book that you will read in the next two years that will change how you look at life. Nuns in the Alps are in endless vigil, praying for the Holy Spirit to alight the hearts of all God's children. A farmer is looking at his organic crops and whispering, nourish them. Someone wants to kiss you, to hold you, to make tea for you. Someone is willing to lend you money, wants to know what your favorite food is, and treat you to a movie. Someone in your orbit has something immensely valuable to give you for free. Something is being invented this year that will change how your generation lives, communicates, heals, and passes on. The next great song is being rehearsed. Thousands of people are in yoga classes right now, intentionally sending light out from their heart chakras and wrapping it around the earth. Millions of children are assuming that everything is amazing and will always be that way. Someone is in profound pain, and a few months from now they'll be thriving like never before. From where they are, they just can't see it. Someone who is craving to be partnered, to be acknowledged, to arrive, will get precisely what they want and even more. And because that gift will be so fantastical in its reach and sweetness, it will quite magically alter their memory of angsty longing and render it all so worth the wait. Someone has recently cracked open their joyous, genuine nature because they did the hard work of hauling years of oppression off of their psyche. The luminous juju is floating in the ether and is accessible to you. Someone just this second wished for world peace in earnest. Some civil servant is making sure that you get your mail and your garbage is picked up, that the trains are running on time, and that you are generally safe. Someone is dedicating their days to protecting your civil liberties and clean drinking water. Someone is regaining their sanity. Someone is coming back from the dead. Someone is genuinely forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Someone is curing the incurable. You me. some one now. Thank you, Mary Standing Otter, for that beautiful meditation.

Candee:

That ends another episode of Solace. A new one drops every Friday morning. You can reach me through the email in my show notes. This podcast is available on Apple, Amazon, and Spotify. Please remember to be gentle to yourself this week and to others. Vaya con Dios.

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