GOOD GRIEF

I don’t grieve easily. When I come across reports of mass shootings or inhumane treatment of immigrants, women, children, other-gendered or sexually oriented persons, African Americans, Muslims, or Jews, I acknowledge the horror and then automatically push it out of my consciousness. I was a therapist long enough to know that this protection in my psyche is a dragon guarding the door, keeping me from being overwhelmed or falling apart. I also know the results of not grieving enough—angsty anxiety, low level depression, or an uncomfortable combination of both.

I’m a movie buff. A few weeks ago, I watched JULY 22, about the 2011 terrorist attacks in Norway. I saw the agonized parents of teens who were slaughtered, the struggles of the wounded to recover and keep their sanity, the terrifying craziness of the white supremacist killer. And I cried—not a lot, but enough to feel some of my grief dissolve.

A couple of days later, I watched LOVING, the story of southern, biracial couple, Mildred and Richard Loving, who, determined to stay together in the face of sickening threats and discrimination, eventually took their case to the Supreme Court and won the right that should never have been denied them—to  be married. “Just tell the judge,” Richard Loving told his attorney, “that I love my wife.” Whew. Boy, did I cry.

Then I watched THE CIRCLE, about the social network of gay men in Switzerland during the 40’s and 50’s, centered on “The Circle”, a gay publication, and the social events it sponsored. I saw the terror in the men who had to hide their identities, the longing to live an ordinary life with a loving partner. When two men from the era, a long-time couple now, told of their struggles to gain acceptance, I cried and felt blessed release.

But I didn’t just snivel and sniff. When the movies were over, I felt rekindled empathy for the downtrodden and oppressed, and stronger determination to fight for their rights. Last Sunday, our choir sang “God of Truth and Justice”, and as I sang, I saw faces in my head from those movies, and I remembered heartwrenching, violent scenes and sweet, tender ones, and I stood straighter and sang louder as we we belted out, “Bring peace to all the world, Lord; reclaim from sin and strife, Till faith becomes its watchword—and love its way of life!” And when the congregation said, “Amen!”, I felt the power of the people, and I felt hope.

 Thank God for scenes and stories and characters that touch me just enough for the dragon at my psyche’s door to let my tears flow. Thanks to screenwriters and directors and actors and streaming video and a big ole viewing screen in my family room, and thanks to Ed, who’s not nearly the movie fan I am, for taking good care of himself while I’m glued to my current drama.

This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for good grief. And for the renewed energy it gives me to continue the struggle for justice.

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