Inside:  When someone makes an effort to meet us where we are—with an overture or gesture they believe we would appreciate—it can make all the difference in the world to our hurting hearts. ~

Not long ago, I texted my friend Beth about getting together for coffee. It had been a while since we’d seen each other, and I had heard she had been dealing with some unexpected health challenges.

Beth is a bit further down the parent-loss road than I am. She also knew my mom and dad well from church, and her willingness to share in my grief has been a great blessing to me these last few years.

Beth responded that she’d love to meet for coffee, but that wasn’t all.

“Maybe we could go out to your parents’ grave afterwards?” she wrote.

A Kind Invitation

As I pondered this kind invitation later, the phrase that came to mind was “the hospitality of shared grief.”

At first glance, grief and hospitality may not seem like words that go together. The way I see it, though, they are an appropriate duo.

Hospitality denotes a warm welcome, a comfortable table, encouraging conversation, common feelings. What better place to be, as a grieving person, than in the tender presence of another person who understands?

Maybe not because they have lived through the same exact loss, but because the sadness they have endured has enlarged their ability to relate.

What it Looks Like

The hospitality of shared grief takes on many forms—as varied as the personalities and experiences of the people participating in it.

It might look like hug in the church lobby. A conversation over coffee or Zoom. A card or text on a difficult anniversary date. A walk around the lake. A morning spent cooking a treasured family recipe together.

It can also be extended through the offer to read a book together, unshed tears in the eyes of a gentle listener or even an empathetic comment on a blog or Instagram post.

Intentional Overtures

These gifts of compassion aren’t elaborate or expensive. But they are intentional. And that’s one of the best things about them.

When someone makes an effort to meet us where we are—with an overture or gesture they believe we would appreciate—it can make all the difference in the world.

Beth and I did visit the cemetery the day we met for coffee. She told me that she stops by my parents’ gravesite when she is missing her own parents, who are buried in a different state.

Being there with her was comforting to me, and so was knowing she also finds solace there. Whether it’s in the cemetery or somewhere else, I have feeling this won’t be the last time we experience the hospitality of shared grief together.

• • •

Have you ever experienced the hospitality of shared grief? What did that look like for you?

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.