By Jerry L. Sittser
An improved variation of this vintage publication on grief and loss---with a brand new preface and epilogue Loss got here without notice for Jerry Sittser. immediately, a sad vehicle coincidence claimed 3 generations of his relatives: his mom, his spouse, and his younger daughter. whereas such a lot folks won't adventure one of these catastrophic loss in our lifetime, we all will flavor it. And we will, if we elect, be aware of besides the grace that transforms it. A Grace Disguised plumbs the depths of sorrow, even if because of disease, divorce, or the lack of a person we like. The conditions aren't vital; what we do with these conditions is. In coming to the tip of ourselves, we will come to the start of a brand new life---one marked by way of religious intensity, pleasure, compassion, and a deeper appreciation of straightforward advantages.
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Additional info for A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows through Loss
I wondered why they had done such a foolish thing and how their families and friends would face the terrible loss. I shivered with a g r a c e d i s g u i s e d 33 fear in the face of that tragedy. I had never witnessed an accident so severe and brutal. We tend to quantify and compare suffering and loss. We talk about the numbers killed, the length of time spent in the hospital, the severity of abuse, the degree of family dysfunction, the difficulty and inconvenience of illness, the complexity of details during a divorce, or the strings of bad luck.
We have suffered,” I muttered cynically under my breath. ” I was angry at God, too. At times I scoffed at the vain notion of praying to God or, conversely, of cursing God, as if one or the other would make any difference. At other times I cried out to God in utter anguish of soul. “How could you do this to innocent people? To my children? ” Sometimes I turned that anger toward my children, lashing out at a g r a c e d i s g u i s e d 59 them when they disobeyed. Or I turned it toward myself, feeling the guilt of having survived the accident while others, whom I considered more worthy of life than me, had died.
Instead of getting rid of it, I worked around it. I planted shrubs, trees, flowers, and grass. I laid out a brick pathway and built two benches. Then I watched everything grow. Now, three years later, the stump remains, still reminding me of the beloved tree I lost. But the stump is surrounded by a beautiful garden of blooming flowers and growing trees and lush grass. Likewise, the sorrow I feel remains, but I have tried to create a landscape around the loss so that what was once ugly is now an integral part of a larger, lovely whole.