I have known loss.
Perhaps none as tragic as what happened in Orlando earlier this week.
But I have known loss.
This is not a political post or a social agenda post or a scripture-wielding post.
This is simply a statement about grief. And heartache and pain.
And loss.
I have cried and prayed this week so much and my heart and mind keep coming back to the same thought: Mourning.
By definition to mourn is to express great sadness or sorrow. Period.
When I faced the greatest loss in my life, the loss of my marriage, I was in the process of grief. And I needed to mourn. I hurt. I ached. It was a long period of grieving.
And some mourned with me.
But there is nothing in the definition of mourning that says to analyze or to blame.
To mourn is to feel sorrow.
Those who truly mourned with me were not the ones who came to tell me how sorry they were in the midst of their condemnation of me, analysis of why it happened or commentary on my present state with God. And there were many. I've shared before how I had several lay scripture before me, declare me a bad wife, or make sure to let me know how the entire situation was my fault and a series of my own bad choices and I was merely reaping what I had sown.
No, those who mourned with me were the precious few who drew up a chair, put their arms around me, poured me a cup of coffee, or a margarita, and cried with me. They knew my pain. All I needed in that moment was someone to grieve my loss with me.
To mourn with me.
In that moment, it didn't matter who did what to whom, who made what decision, or how I got in that state of the big D. What mattered is that I ached. I hurt. And I needed someone to hurt with me.
Many, sadly, have a lack of understanding of what it means to mourn with those who mourn. In the wake of the tragedy in Orlando this week, many of my friends have expressed their horror and heartache. It was horrible. It was wrong. I condemn it. And I sat this morning in my "coffee with Jesus" time and wept openly for my friends and the friends and the families of the victims.
I am disheartened at some religious leaders who struggle to even be able to just simply mourn with the broken and the hurting. Sympathy mixed with statements regarding the sin of the victims is not mourning. Judgment shrouds sentiment.
As someone who has been branded with the Scarlet D, heard "divorcee" lumped with "murderer," "adulterer," "homosexual" in a public forum, been excluded, and judged, I have learned what it means to mourn with those who mourn. I appreciate beyond words those who stood beside me and loved me when the religious world needed to mark their disapproval of me.
To my friends who are broken-hearted this week over the events in Orlando, I simply want to say this:
I am so sorry for your pain. It was horrible and wrong. I am hurting with you. Truly.
I will look into the faces of the victims as I see their pictures and hear their names read aloud. I will see beautiful people who lived beautiful lives, loved their families and friends, and who were taken from us too soon in violence.
I will shed tears for the loss.
I do so as I write this.
Your pain is not forgotten.
I will mourn with you.
