Grief and The Workplace

Dear Friends,

I have a growing concern about how grieving and mourning people are treated in the workplace. Our society becomes more and more dismissive of the role of ritual in grief (note the latest trend of “drive-through” funeral visitations on the east and west coasts) and more confused about the importance of mourning well our losses so we can move forward to live well.  These attitudes are naturally reflected in the workplace. 

I would very much like to hear your experiences related to this subject.  I may write an article for our Hope Newsletter based on your responses.  However, I will word things in such a way that no single individual's confidentiality is jeopardized.  I would be very appreciative of your responses.  Please email them to me at the address below or send them by snail mail, whichever suits you best.

The kinds of things I am most curious about are—

What type of  loss did you experience? 

Did you feel supported in your workplace following your loss?  For how long?

How did co-workers and employers respond to your loss– both positive and negative examples, please.

What helped you the most?

What hurt you the most?

What do you wish you could have said to the people you work with?

Did your co-workers seem to understand the depth of your grief and how long it would take for you to find healing?

Perhaps you are a helping professional and someone others look to for support.  How did this impact your ability to freely mourn your loss?

What else would you like to share? 

I don’t know exactly what this newsletter feature will look like.  Much will depend upon the responses I get.  I can imagine that some specific responses may be shared, but again I assure you the source of those responses will be kept confidential.  Your identity will be protected.  

Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me.  I am confident I can put something together that will prove helpful to businesses and employers.

Sincerely,

Robyn J. Plocher

deaconrumc@yahoomail.com

or

509 4^th Street

Grundy Center, IA   50638

Riding the Wave of Grief at Father's Day

     They say that grief comes at us in waves, usually when we least expect it.  I have found this to be true.  Earlier this year my uncle, dad's only brother, died.  I was not particularly close to this uncle. However, one day driving to work I was bowled over by one of those waves of grief.  It was as if another chapter in my dad's life had irrevocably closed.  The living members of his family of origin are now just my 101 year old grandmother and my aunt.
     I had the same experience a week ago.  I was attending our church's Annual Conference.  This is a gathering of over 1000 people from across our state to do the work of the church in a very specific place and time.  This year I was asked to have a leadership role in the Memorial Service. The service honors the memory of clergy and clergy spouses who have died in the past year.  We also honor the churches that have decided to close.  Sadly, this year six congregations made that difficult decision.  One of them  is Calvary United Methodist in Blairstown, Iowa.  My dad served that church when I was just a pre-school aged child.
     I do have quite a number of memories of that home and church.  I remember the big water tower that seemed like it was right behind our house and the siren that would blow to call the volunteer firemen to respond to an emergency.  I remember dropping my pretzel - a favorite teething toy - down the laundry chute that ran from the second floor to the basement of the house.  I remember the cowboy boots I was wearing the day I fell down the church steps -probably saving me from a badly twisted ankle or worse. I remember that Dad drove a school bus and sometimes I got to go to the Bus Barn with him -something that always made me feel special.    I remember that dad's office was in the house.  I remember a glow of blue light and the smell of ink on the days he would cut stencils and print the church bulletins.
     The parsonage and church in Blairstown are part of my life story.  They are also part of my dad's story and our family story.  I am very sad about the church closing, but I have had a hard time articulating why it affected me so much the day of the Memorial Service.  I felt weepy, tearful and a bit irritable most of the day.  I believe now I was swimming against a wave of grief.
      When I was little I adored my daddy, as most little girls do.  As sometimes happens, time  took a toll on our relationship which became strained in adulthood.  The unfinished business between us was not all resolved prior to his death. The closing of the church was, for me, like "another nail in his coffin"-a reminder that the past and it's cares irrevocably slip away.  A reminder that life is a series of "hello"s and "good-bye"s, and the "good-bye"s cause us to feel the pain of grief.
     As Father's Day approaches I will think of my dad with a mix of joy and tears.  I will honor my  husband for his special way of being "dad" and "papa" to our children and grandson.  I am also choosing to remember those who have been like fathers and brothers to me:  Dwight Vogel, "Cousin" Jim Grupp, Jim Russel., Jeff Dadisman, Orrin Plocher,  Richard Plocher and  Jon Starek.    These are the men in my life I honor for their enduring support, love and integrity. 
     If you feel a wave of grief coming at you this Father's Day, I encourage you to get out your surfboard and ride the wave wherever it takes you.   Feel your feelings.  Cry if you need to.  However, when the wave loses it's power and fades away, take some time to practice an attitude of gratitude.  Let those special guys still in your life know just how much they really mean to you. 

Blessings on the Journey,

Robyn

The author with her children (background) and her grandson (foreground)

                                                                                       

A Fresh Look at the Good Shepherd

Because we don't live in the countryside outside Jerusalem 2000 years ago we aren't always able to understand and appreciate the parables that Jesus told.  Psalm 23 and John 10 both talk about how the Lord is like a Good Shepherd who risks sacrificing everything for his sheep.  I recently wrote the story below and shared it as narrator for the morning message in worship.  The pastor portrayed the Good Shepherd,  a lay member of the church portrayed the young and foolish shepherd. The children in attendance portrayed the sheep.  A teen portrayed the wolf.    In acting out the story, the entire congregation was enabled to visualize and appreciate in a new way what Jesus really meant when he talked about the shepherd laying down his life for his sheep and so faithfully caring for them.  

Once there was a Good Shepherd who faithfully cared for his flock of sheep.

By day the shepherd led his sheep to green pastures and streams of water so that they might be well nourished and grow up healthy and strong.

As evening fell the shepherd took his flock to a sheep pen where they could take their rest in peace, unmolested by wild animals or thieves.  Then the shepherd himself lay down to guard the entrance to the sheep pen.

One night the sheep became restless and agitated.  A wolf had caught their scent and was lurking and skulking about the sheep pen looking for a way in, but the wolf could not get over or through the wall.  Frustrated and hungry, the wolf was not about to give up.  He found his way to the sheep gate where the shepherd was asleep on the ground.  The wolf sneaked toward the sheep thinking he had found his way into the pen.  As the wolf drew near the shepherd –who hadn’t been sleeping at all- suddenly sat up. Taking aim with his sling shot he fired at the wolf.  He intended to stun the wolf, but this wolf was very hungry.  After being shot with the sling shot he was just plain mad.  The wolf leapt at the shepherd.  When the struggle was over both the wolf and the shepherd were wounded and bloodied, but the wolf ran away, abandoning his hoped for meal.

The shepherd knew if he didn’t move his flock the wolf would only return again and again.  So he called to his flock and led them out to a new pasture and sheep pen several days travel away.  Along the way he met another shepherd by the name of Simon.  Simon was not a bad shepherd. He cared for his sheep.  But he was young and not especially wise.  As the sheep were settled in the pen for the night and the two shepherds sat down together under the stars, Simon told his story to the Good Shepherd.                                                                       

Every Morning is Easter Morning!

I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her testimony.  She was an elderly member of our church when I was a young teenager.  She had been diagnosed with cancer and told she had very little time to live.  That had been years before.  She had outlived every doctor’s prognosis.  In a day when cancer might have been referred to in quiet whispers and somehow associated with shame and embarrassment, she found the grace and courage to openly share her story.   When people went to call on her because she was homebound and ill, the caller always came away with their faith renewed.  They went to make her feel better.  They came away ministered to and feeling better themselves.

One year late in Lent this woman recorded a message to be shared at our church’s United Methodist Women’s monthly meeting. It so happened that my mom had the tape at home. She was listening to it in her bedroom one day, and that was how I came to hear the woman share her testimony in her own words. 

“It will soon be Easter,” she said.  “But for me, every morning is Easter morning.  Every day is a reminder of God’s grace and love.  Every day is a resurrection day, a new day of life and an opportunity to serve Him.” 

It seemed only fitting that a few days later, early on Easter Sunday morning, this remarkable saint left this life and went home to be with her Lord. 

Honestly, I suppose I might not have remembered her testimony so clearly if it were not for a song I learned several years later that called her to mind.  The lyrics are as follows:

Ev'ry morning is Easter morning from now on! 
Ev'ry day's resurrection day, the past is over and gone! 

Good-bye guilt, good-bye fear, good riddance! Hello, Lord, Hello, sun! 
I am one of the Easter People! My new life has begun! 

Ev'ry morning is Easter morning from now on! 
Ev'ry day's resurrection day, the past is over and gone! 

Daily news is so bad it seems the Good News seldom gets heard. 
Get it straight from the Easter People! God's in charge spread the word! 

Ev'ry morning is Easter morning from now on! 
Ev'ry day's resurrection day, the past is over and gone! 

Yesterday I was bored and lonely; But today look and see! 
I belong to the Easter People! Life's exciting to me! 
Ev'ry morning is Easter morning from now on! 
Ev'ry day's resurrection day, the past is over and gone! 
Ev'ry morning is Easter morning, 
Ev'ry morning is Easter morning, 
Ev'ry morning is Easter morning, 
From now on! 
 

(Words & Tune:  Richard K. Avery and Donald S. Marsh, in the Avery and Marsh Songbook, ©1967, Hope Publishing Co.)

Pain, despair and injustice are all around us.  This cannot be denied.  Yet as Christians we know that the greatest injustice ever done was the murder of God’s son on a cross at Calvary.  Whatever atonement theory one may embrace, it seems quite clear that it was never God’s intention to allow sin, darkness and injustice to have the final word.  Even when humanity did its utmost worst, God did His utmost best.  When humanity’s sin sent Christ to the cross, God’s grace overcame the power of death.  Christ rose from the tomb three days after his physical death. He walked, talked, prayed and broke bread with those he had known as his friends.  For those who place their trust in Him this makes all the difference.

The things that hold us in bondage – things like lack of forgiveness, abuse, addiction, disease and disability, fear and anxiety, grief and mourning – may be a very real burden to us.  But we are not without hope.  Christ is our joy.  The empty tomb is our hope.  An instrument of cruelty and execution (the cross) has become our victory sign.  Christ is risen!  Alleluia!  Light has conquered the darkness!  Love is stronger than hate!  Death is vanquished.  Joy in this life and eternity with God are our destiny. 

May you have a blessed Easter Season!

Robyn

 

Good Friday Reflections on Injustice

Good Friday, 2011

Someone once told me that I have never “accepted” the basic injustice of life.  That statement made me very upset and even angry.  Through personal experience or by companioning others on their grief journeys I have known a great deal of the injustice that seems to be inherent in life this side of eternity.

I have known, at a very young age, the injustice of war that leaves innocent children hungry, homeless and orphaned.  (I have three siblings adopted from Korea,  and my mother travelled to Korea and Vietnam several times during my childhood working to bring aid and assistance to the orphans in those war torn countries.)

I know the injustice of old age and illness – cancer and COPD, for example, that leaves good Christian men and women lying in their beds fighting with everyone ounce of strength in their bodies for just one more breath.

I know the injustice of pain heaped upon an already broken heart when a mother learns her children are disabled or have serious medical problems.

I know the  injustice of mental illness that strips away not only joy and peace, but at its worst strips away even anger and grief - not just feeling bad or sad -  but feeling nothing, a terrible, awful aloneness in the deepest, darkest of pits.

I know injustice and I know it rather well.  It angers me! 

In the Chaos of Life

CHAOS.  This is the word that best describes the last couple of weeks on both the world scene and in my own personal life.  Car trouble, sewer line problems that resulted in water in our basement, challenges at work, earthquake and tsunami, concerns about family living near Crescent City, CA in the path of the tsunami and the hospitalization of a family member—these are just a few of the challenges that have tried my patience and strength recently. 

The day of the earthquake in Japan I was driving to work, listening to my favorite Christian radio station.  Already I was feeling exhausted by my concerns and worries when the DJ said, “Whatever the tsunamis you're dealing with in your life right now, remember that God is in control.” 

“Really?” I asked out loud.  “Is that true, God?  You’re in control?  What about free will?  What about random bad luck or chaos?  I know Christians say you’re in control all the time, but what does that really mean?!  Do I even believe it?”

Later that day

Crossroads

   Have you ever come to a crossroads and found you weren't sure which way to go?  For those of us who are "directionally challenged" this used to be quite a concern. Of course, now I have my GPS in my car that helps me get from place to place, prompting me,  "in one mile turn left", and even reminding me again when I'm just 300 feet from the indicated course change --just in case I've forgotten in the last few moments.
   Sometimes the crossroads in our lives are more metaphorical than literal.  Sometimes we have to wait for discernment or other insight about what direction we should choose to go.  These times of waiting can be difficult.  Most of us don't like waiting for anything.  Most of us don't like ambiguity.  We like things that are neat and orderly and predictable.  Are those words that describe your life?  Neat?  Orderly?  Predictable?  Probably not.  And if you are going through any kind of challenges in your life (and who isn't?) I am quite confident you are not experiencing life as orderly or predictable.
   So I've been thinking a great deal about what it must have been like for Jesus when he came to a crossroads in his life and chose, as Luke tells us:  "Now when the time was almost come for Jesus to be receive up [to heaven], He steadfastly and determinedly set His face to go to Jerusalem."  (Luke 9:51 Amplified Bible)  Jesus, in his divinity, must have known that going to Jerusalem was the only course that could fulfill the divine purpose for his life.  Yet Jesus the man with free will - like all of us - must have longed to turn and run away from Jerusalem and the danger, cruelty and pain that awaited him there.
   Jesus chose the path of hardship.  He chose the selfless path.  He chose the will of God for his life, even as he struggled with that choice.  The struggle was not fully resolved for him until the night before his death when he sweat blood and shed tears in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Still, his trust in his Heavenly Father was so great that he could walk "determinedly" toward the very thing every fiber of his being wanted to run from.
   As Christians, God's will is our GPS system.  Because of the nature of my work, I often set out for places I have never been before.  I have to trust the technology of my GPS to get me safely there and back.  This causes me some stress at times when I drive into areas outside my comfort zone, especially in remote rural areas.  However, my GPS rarely lets me down.
   I am praying to let Christ's way be my way as I face my own crossroads in life.  I am confident that with God as my GPS system my trust is well placed.  Though my path may be unfamiliar, dark or even dangerous at times, I want to choose the self-less path.  I want to choose the path of faith and trust.  I want to choose the path that draws me closer to the all-sufficient grace of our awesome God.  I want to choose that path that ultimately leads to light and life!
   Have a blessed and holy Lenten journey.