Facing Your Stack Of Pancakes

Wash, put on perfume, and get dressed in your best clothes. Then go down to the threshing floor.

Years ago, my husband and I took our daughter to a restaurant for breakfast. We knew she was hungry, but when the waitress placed a steaming plate of pancakes before our little girl, she didn’t pick up her fork. She didn’t even seem hungry anymore. What had happened?

After encouraging her to eat for a few minutes, my husband had an idea. He lifted two of the pancakes off the plate, leaving only one behind. Cutting the single pancake into pieces, he encouraged her again. “Go ahead and eat.” She picked up her fork and gobbled down her meal, only to ask for more. She’d simply had too much on her plate to know what to do next.

I’m sure you’ve felt like that at times since your person died. All of the details and the emotions stack up like pancakes on a plate, and you’re not sure where to start. Do you cut into the paperwork or lie down and take a nap? Do you focus on getting the closets cleaned out, or do you thumb through photo albums and drink in the memories? It can be incredibly hard to know what to do when your head is in the disorienting fog of grief.

Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth existed in that same fog. Naomi’s three losses compounded her grief, while Ruth experienced both grief and change as she left her own people to move to a new city. Nevertheless, Naomi did something wise in Ruth chapter three that invites us to healthy grieving and growth after loss. She instructed Ruth to do her next right thing.

Notice Naomi’s instructions to her daughter-in-law: take care of your body, move, complete a task. Three simple commands, each one a challenge in the face of her sorrow. And yet Naomi knew from her own life’s experience that slowly placing one foot in front of the other was the only way to move with sorrow.

Hudson Taylor, the missionary to China who saw his own fair share of sorrow, once said, “If we are faithful to God in little things, we shall gain experience and strength that will be helpful to us in the more serious trials of life.” Today, do a small job that stands before you. Eat one pancake at a time. As you do, ask God to join you in the simple tasks of your day. He will impart encouragement in even the smallest details so that you are strengthened to face your life after loss.

LORD, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us.

May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands.

A Prayer: God, so many responsibilities and emotions have piled up because of my loss. I’m not sure where to start. I feel overwhelmed with all the work to do, the relationships to mend and strengthen, my emotions and body to care for. Show me today what the one needful thing is. Enlighten my eyes to see what you have placed before me to do. Give me wisdom to discern where I need to work and where I need to rest, and strengthen me for the task. Remind me to place all of my efforts into your hands. You will do more than I can ask or think according to your great riches in Christ Jesus. Amen.

An Activity for Today: Have you offered yourself condolences since your person died? No, really. Have you told yourself, “I’m sorry for your loss”? Today, take a moment to extend your sympathies to yourself—yes, you. If you have trouble putting words together, hop over to a discount store and buy yourself a card. (Or remake one that has been sent to you!) What are the words you would say to yourself about the experience of losing your loved one? What compassion, love, and tenderness can you give to yourself? Hint: you may be surprised to discover that the platitudes others have offered fall flat when you extend them to yourself. As you consider these unhelpful words, think about the loving sentiments that stand behind them. Say those things to yourself instead. You’ve been through a lot; you deserve kindness from yourself too.

A Song to Encourage Your Heart: “Your Labor Is Not in Vain” by The Porter’s Gate