Pathways to Peace

Lisa Thomas • September 2, 2020

I have always enjoyed being alliterate—as in using words that begin with the same letter and are placed closely together—like “rubber baby buggy bumpers” for instance (as opposed to being illiterate, which some folks may occasionally think I am, depending on the subject matter, like, say . . . technology).

But I digress . . . as I usually do, although this time it might actually be relevant. Lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about Life and the grieving process and how often we find ourselves mourning the loss of something, whether it’s our job or being able to gather in large groups, or even just our daily ruts.  The loss doesn’t always have to be a person to generate grief.  And it occurred to me, ‘midst all my pondering, that there are four Ps which are essential to navigating the grieving process.  If we can focus on those there’s a good chance we’ll not only survive the transition but maybe even thrive in its aftermath.

The first P in my alliterate list is patience.  When you’re trying to deal with loss . . . any kind of loss . . . there has to be patience.  Patience with the people around us who may seem to lose their patience with us because we aren’t adhering to their timetable.  Patience with the situation as a whole—whatever that situation might be—which will allow us to focus on something other than denial or anger.  And patience with ourselves as we struggle to find our new footing.

But patience isn’t of much use if there isn’t also perseverance.   In order to reach a goal there must actually be movement in that direction.  And that’s hard work.  That’s why patience and perseverance have to walk hand in hand.  One doesn’t get to straggle along behind the other . . . well, maybe every once in a while.  Life doesn’t allow us to be constantly in sync, but if we continue to press on we just might find that our patience begets perseverance (to use one of those good Old Testament words) and our continued perseverance will increase our patience.  Isn’t it amazing how that works?

So, if we’re patient, and we persevere, what will be our reward?  Progress.  Will we continually move forward, or upward, or whatever our definition of progress might be?  Goodness no.  That’s like the impossible dream.  No one is blessed with an obstacle-free path through Life, and it seems the harder the path, the larger and more frequent are the obstacles—which is what makes the path so much more difficult.  That’s why we have to be patient.  It’s why we have to persevere and not give up.  Oh, there are times you can give up just a little; you can take a break and breathe deeply and gather your wits.  But never give up completely.  That’s the fastest, surest way into despair.  And that’s not a P word so it isn’t allowed on our list.

Now, suppose we’ve been patient and we’ve persevered, and we’ve made progress . . . is there an ultimate reward?  An ultimate goal for which we’ve been striving all along?  Yes.  Yes, there is.  It’s called peace.

In today’s world, peace is probably one of the most precious—and elusive—of all treasures, especially in times of grief.  The anxiety can be overwhelming.  The all-consuming sadness can literally make it difficult to even breathe.  But somewhere along that road of loss, there can be peace—not peace in the world that surrounds us, but peace within ourselves.  After all, that’s the only place we can really control and the only place that really matters.  It may not be a constant peace.  There may be moments when it seems just out of reach or so far beyond our grasp as to be unattainable.  But when we are patient and we persevere and we strive to make progress in our journey through loss and grief, we will eventually find peace.

Patience.  Perseverance.  Progress.  Peace.  The four Ps of navigating loss and the grief that follows.  Each of the first three, standing alone, is a powerful tool—but without all three working in harmony, you’ll never reach the ultimate goal.  Peace with the past.  Peace with your new future.  Peace with what cannot be changed.

 

 

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

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