In the wake of wars and natural disasters, many people have experienced the loss of a loved one. My heart goes out to each one who has experienced such a loss. Grief can seem like a fog of sorrow that invades our every thought and action.
My mom passed on recently, and I’ve missed her, especially when I have something I’d like to talk through. I’d think, “Oh, I should call Mom about that.” When I realize that’s not possible, it might hurt to think I can’t talk with her. But as she taught me throughout my life, I can always go to God in prayer. She always encouraged me to think of God as my Father-Mother.
It has helped me so many times, when I couldn’t talk to my mom, to remember God was always there. Our Father-Mother is loving, caring, and protecting both of us. In this thought, there is a comforting unity of being. As Mary Baker Eddy, who discovered Christian Science, wrote, “Where God is we can meet, and where God is we can never part” (“The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany,” p. 131).
It also helps me to know that Mom is continuing to progress and bless others. Her lovingkindness and generosity have always been an inspiration to me. Now I realize that, of all the things she gave me, I value her spiritual qualities and ideas the most. And because these gifts are spiritual, I can never lose them. A spiritual idea can’t decay, be lost, or taken away.
My mom blessed so many people during her life on earth – her family with loving guidance, the brides she lovingly supported as a florist, and the many people she healed in her practice of Christian Science.
But even with this sweet sense that I couldn’t be separated from the spiritual qualities that my mom expressed, there was a pull to be sad. It was as though I wasn’t being true to her memory if I wasn’t sad. A repressive fog descended on my thought, and although I prayed, it wouldn’t lift.
Sometime later I attended a Christian Science lecture. At the beginning, the speaker asked us to pray for those in attendance, listing several thoughts that needed healing. I don’t remember the whole list, but “those who are sad” stood out to me. As the talk continued, the fog began to lift. It then seemed almost funny for me to have a deep sense of closeness to Mom and be sad at the same time. The mental fog dispersed, and I felt only joy for Mom’s and my shared progress. I can only account for the sudden turnaround as exemplifying the touch of the Christ, the tangible message from God of His loving presence and power.
Although Mom is not physically present with me, I’ve come to see a oneness of being that expresses God’s goodness. And I’ve been finding great peace in the healing presence of the Christ.
My prayer for all those who mourn is that they can feel the healing Christ-presence in their lives, comforting, guarding, and guiding.