Courage in Bereavement
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Dear friend,
Now in your time of bereavement, when a new set of cares comes to you, I want to keep very close to you and to help you by all that strong friendship can give and do. If you were nearer to me, that I could see you now and then — I would be very glad to help you in closer personal ways. But although you are far away, I want to help you in any way possible. Let me, therefore, assure you, first of all, of sincere sympathy and faithful remembrance.
But do not forget, my child, that the burden which now rests upon you, demands the very best that you have in yourself to give. That is to say, you must not get discouraged; you must not allow your loneliness to make you timid or to impair your energy. Now is the time for all the strength you have, the strength of your noble womanhood, the strength of Christ that is in you.
Do not forget that if you are faithful yourself, in all ways — that your Master will always stand beside you, and in loving helpfulness. Discouragement is fatal to strength. It makes one unfit for duty. You must never yield, therefore, a moment to it. Indeed, you have no reason to yield to discouragement. You are young and strong, with a training for life which makes you valuable to others, and makes your service also valuable. You will have no trouble in caring for yourself, while you are well and strong.
I know that this is not the most serious thing about your condition — I mean the necessity for work. That which is hardest for you, is the loneliness. Loneliness is always a heavy burden. It also has its temptations — at least, it makes the life open to temptations of many kinds. You must try and master it as far as you can. Remember this — your husband's work was done, and God called him away. You did your duty to him as a loyal and faithful wife most beautifully. Now your hands are free for other duty.
One of Miss Havergal's poems is called "Free to Serve." It tells of a mother, I think, who had cared for a sick child for a long time, giving all her thought to it. The task was very hard and the burden heavy. At last the child died. The mother now felt the great burden of emptied hands. They had been so long used to helping, caring for her child, that, when there was nothing for them to do, they hung heavily at her side. Then came to her the inspiration that she was "free to serve"; that is, her hands, which had been trained to all gentleness anddelicate helpfulness in caring for her child so long, were now free — not to be idle — but to take up other work for the Master.
You will understand how this applies in your own case. Your hands are now "free to serve." You are not free to indulge in sad memories. Life waits for you and beckons you to large and noble service.
Just yesterday I clipped from a paper a little incident telling of "God's way with a soul." It tells of a woman who had a beautiful girlhood, rich in all that wealth and love could give. Trouble came by and by, and everything was swept away — parents, husband, children, wealth. In her anguish, she prayed for death — but death was refused to her. Everything was done by her friends to divert her mind — but to no effect. One night she had a dream. She had gone to Heaven and saw her husband coming toward her. She ran to him full of joy. To her terror, no answering joy was shown in his face — only surprise and almost indignation.
"How did you come here?" he asked. "They did not say that you were to be sent for. I didn't expect you for a long time yet."
"But aren't you glad?" she cried.
Again he only answered as before, "How did you come? I didn't expect you." And there was no gladness in his tone.
With a bitter cry she turned from him. "I am going to my parents," she faltered; "they, at least, will welcome me." So she went on until she found her parents. But instead of the tender love for which her heart was sick, she met only the same cold looks of amazement, the same astonished questions. Dazed and heart-broken she turned from them.
"I will go to my Saviour!" she cried. "He loves me if no one else does."
Then in her dream she reached the Saviour. She was right — there was no coldness there. But through his love, the sorrow of his voice thrilled her into wondering silence. "Child, child, who is doing your work down there?"
At last she understood.
Be very careful of your life. The best way to take care of one's life, is to be very busy in doing the work which the Master gives one to do.
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