Tender Mercy
Standing quietly at the gravesite in this small cemetery, I find myself reflecting on the lives of the ones whose bodies lie beneath the grass.
The cloudless blue sky and tall pines silently offer a witness to my presence and I welcome memories as they come.
A slight breeze touches my cheek. I remember how my mom loved the wind upon her face. I notice familiar names on other stones and recall how kindly she cared for her friends. A sweet fragrance wafts from flowers decorating nearby graves and I remember her love of lilacs and how a fistful of violets brought a gentle smile.
On her headstone, I read, once again, the words we picked to describe her: PRECIOUS MOTHER and I remember how I used to call her our precious pearl because she truly was priceless.
My dad is buried beside my mom and I think of him also. He had a big welcoming smile and a willingness to help anyone who needed him. His siblings loved him and there were times he chose to fight to protect his mother. In the army, in service of our country, he carried out difficult and dangerous assignments.
While enjoying these thoughts, another memory elbows its way to stand, hands on hips, right in front of me. I have to give it my attention, albeit reluctantly.
***
You see, that mettlesome little memory wants me to remember that when our dad died, our parents were divorced.
Alcoholism and all that comes with it had worked insidious havoc on their marriage and our family.
In one last attempt to turn things around (after trying many), our mom thought that the threat of divorce would wake him up and help him make decisions for change.
But within a year, while working with a road construction crew, our dad died when the payloader he was driving plunged into a ditch, and before he could jump clear of the falling machine, the large bucket hit him, quickly ending his life.
His death was abrupt and shocking and we were all shaken to the core.
Instead of bitterness or resentment, our mom took care of his body. She arranged for a funeral, bought a plot of land, and treated him gently. Surprisingly, she never bypassed the grief he had caused.
The little twelve-year-old me found kind and tender answers to my questions as I was able to ask them. Her answers were honest and her lack of bitterness kept me from hating Dad for the choices he made. Instead, I found a way to pay attention to my own little wounded heart, and in time, do what I could to find healing.
Of course, that’s the way of grace. It is undeserved. That’s why it seems unbelievable that anyone could offer it.
***
A few weeks ago, while walking with a friend, we somehow got on the topic of where our parents were buried. I said that both of mine were buried in a small cemetery just north of the small town where I grew up. I told her that when my dad died in 1966, my mom bought several plots: one for him, and a second for her.
My friend, acquainted with a bit of our family story, turned to me and said, “She did that?”
“Yep, she was quite the girl,” I responded, suddenly realizing it had been years since I thought about what she had done.
My friend solemnly nodded in agreement. Jesus showed us that the way of love can be painful, but the rewards are eternal.
***
Just this morning, I read from Matthew 5, the part where Jesus began his Sermon on the Mount.
He started by telling the crowd who the favored ones were. He included those who are poor and feel their spiritual poverty, those who mourn and wait upon the Lord, the humble, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Then he said:
How blessed you are when you demonstrate tender mercy! (TPT)
Mercy is defined as compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone within one’s power to punish or harm.
We could rewrite this. God blesses those who forgive those who don’t deserve it.
***
So, as I stand here at her grave with his right next to hers, I smile at my mom’s gutsy determination to refuse to let my dad or the situation deter her from showing tender mercy when she had every right to respond in anger and hurt.
Instead, hers was the law of love, the kind of love that moves mountains and affects future generations by demonstrating what grace looks like.
Grace is humble, not arrogant or showy, and chooses to live unoffended. It steps toward rather than hiding behind self-protection and offense and choosing freedom from the chokehold of bitterness.
She led, and her children watched.
The seeds of bitterness dried up and died before their roots could take hold.
She loved God and believed that what he said in the Bible was true.
***
So in answer to that mettlesome memory, hands on hips, I speak this out: I also believe in the law of love and I pray for the resolve to live my life offering love and forgiveness God’s way.
***
You might find a common thread in your story. Perhaps people in your life made choices that hurt you. Possibly, offering grace to someone who betrayed you seems impossible. And maybe you can’t. But the Spirit of God, who is ALL about living in us and enabling us to do what we cannot do on our own, is here to help.
Can I offer a way to begin?
Find a quiet spot where you will not be interrupted. Curl up there as though you were in the arms of God. Feel the heaviness along with the comfort of his presence. Rest there, inviting him to let you know he is with you. Be silent. Just feel and be aware. (Psalm 131:2 - I am humbled and quieted in your presence. Like a contented child who rests on its mother’s lap, I’m your resting child, and my soul is content in you.) TPT
When ready, talk to God. Tell him how much you hurt. Speak it. Cry it. Shout it out. Tell all of it.
When you’ve reached the end, stay curled up and listen. Let your mind rest. Ask God to help you. Pay attention to images and words that come into your thoughts. God may be speaking through them.
Strahan Coleman @ commoners_communion prays, “May your every good and every hurtful thought wander into God today; that you may experience God’s kindness, presence, and power to heal even the most broken mind through compassionate communion.”
If you realize that you need more help to work your way through the memories, be sure to find a therapist or trusted friend who can come alongside you. Healing is a slow process and we often need someone to walk with us through the dark valleys.
I love you, my friend. May you find peace and a way through the pain and into the love of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine,
according to his power that is at work within us,
to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations,
forever and ever!
Amen.
Ephesians 3:20