Blessed are those who mourn...

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted

    by the hands that make the bread,

    by the feet that bring the flowers,

    by the fingers that write the note,

    by the lips that tell the memory,

    by the hearts that find the patience,

    by the souls who know loss.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be 

comforted by the ones who learned to make make bread -

         sometimes kneading gently,

         sometimes pounding angrily at what has been lost; 

Comforted by the the ones who thought to bring flowers,

    smiling at the memories their scent evokes,

    crying, too, because the same bouquet smells like their own loss;

Comforted by the ones who found time to write notes, fingers cramping, minds blanking, 

     seeking words that can’t be found because what do you say when there’s nothing to say? 

Comforted by the brave souls who dare to share memories, their hearts beating rapidly, 

     worried the memory will bring more pain than comfort, 

          but sometimes comfort is uncomfortable, the blessed mourners know; 

Comforted by the ones who find patience because the grieving mind is changed, 

     the presence of loss making grocery lists, directions, appointments difficult to recall, 

     and what a blessing it is when instead of anger forgetfulness is met with a smile 

because loss reminds us what matters and what doesn’t.

Blessed are those who mourn because they will be comforted by the ones 

     who have met God in grief, 

     who know no matter how we touch the dough, we find God there; 

          God is in the bouquet’s smile and tears, 

          God is on the blank page, 

               God also is found when our pen finds “deepest sympathies” and we wonder 

                    if those words mean anything at all, 

          God is the comfort in the uncomfortable new sting of a sweet shared memory, 

          God is the gracious patience for the grief-scarred mind that fears memories might be lost 

               if too many present details are held on to. 

God is in the voice that cracks and tears that fall because love is too much for just this world.

Blessed are those who mourn because they will be comforted by those who, like God, have known grief.