Rachel wept for her children and refused to be comforted, the prophet wrote, because they were no more. There are griefs that will not accept the easy word. This sonnet sits with such a grief, and refuses to hurry it toward a resolution it is not yet ready to receive.
The Sonnet
Do not offer me your ready kindly word, The verse that says the loss was for the best, The reassurance you have somewhere heard, The tidy peace you offer at my rest. I cannot yet receive what you would give, The wound is fresh, the ache is deep and slow, And platitudes will not help me to live Through what the surface language does not know. But sit beside me if you can be still, And let the silence hold what words undo, And trust that God is present, patient, until The deeper time when comfort may come through. Some griefs will not be quickly put to rest, And love that stays through them is love the best.
Reflection
One of the hardest things to learn in the presence of grief is when to say nothing. Well-meaning people rush to offer explanations, verses, encouragements. But there are griefs so fresh, so raw, so deep, that no word yet fits them. In those hours, the only ministry is presence. The only comfort is the willingness to sit and not try to fix.
Rachel weeping for her children is a permanent image in Scripture of grief that refuses the easy comfort. God does not scold her. He does not send Jeremiah to correct her theology. He records her weeping in the sacred text and lets it stand. The message is quiet and profound. Some griefs are allowed to be inconsolable for a while, and the God of comfort is not offended by the inconsolable seasons of our lives.
If your grief will not yet be comforted, that is not a failure of faith. That is honesty. The God who sits with mourners will sit with you in this, without hurry, without correction, until the deeper healing comes in its own time.
