Holding Loss
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)
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So many of you take time to write back to me and share stories about your lives, prompted by something I have written. Your notes mean so much to me. Lately, a number of you have written to me about grief. You’ve lost your home in the fires. You lost your spouse. You lost a beloved pet. You’ve retired and are trying to find your way. You’ve lost your faith community. You’ve lost your hope for democracy. You’ve lost…and you are grieving. Me too.
Grief is a strange and uninvited companion. It arrives unannounced, not asking if we are ready or willing. One moment, life feels whole, and the next, it’s as if the ground beneath us has crumbled, leaving us suspended in a silence that feels unbearable.
My favorite cousin, Linda, lost her beloved husband Tommy. We all miss him terribly. I imagine we always will. She recently reminded me of F. Scott Fitzgerald saying: “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly. It’s not the shattering itself that breaks you—it’s the silence that follows, the quiet space where you realize there’s nothing left to salvage. And in that moment, you know that you’ll never be the same again. You’ll build something new, perhaps, but it will never be what you lost.”
It’s that silence after the shattering that feels so hollow, so final. It’s the absence of what was—the empty seat at the table, the routine that no longer exists, the future you once imagined now out of reach. In that space, grief speaks not with words, but with its aching presence.
We often wrestle with grief because it challenges our understanding of hope. We want to move quickly to the promise of comfort, the assurance that all will be made well. But the truth is, grief must be befriended before it can be transformed. Jesus himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus, trusting full well that resurrection was coming. His tears remind us that grief is sacred, an expression of love for what was and what will never be again.
In the silence of grief, we begin to rebuild—not because we forget what was lost, but because we carry it with us. The new life we create may be different, but it is shaped by the love and meaning of what came before. In this way, grief does not diminish us; it deepens us, making space for greater compassion, understanding, and connection.
If you are in that lonely silence right now, know this: you are not alone. The promise of faith is not that we will be spared from loss, but that we will be accompanied through it. In the silence, there is Presence. In the ache, there is Love.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
How have you experienced the silence of grief in your life?
What would it look like to allow yourself to feel the full weight of your grief without rushing to fix or avoid it?
How can you honor the love and meaning of what you have lost as you begin to rebuild?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer for Grief
God of all,
You see the pain we carry—
For our lives, for our nation, for our world.
We mourn the losses that feel too great to bear,
The silence that feels too heavy to hold.
Meet us in our grief, O Lord.
Hold us in Your love,
And remind us that we do not grieve alone.
Help us to honor what has been lost,
While trusting in the possibility of what can still be.
Strengthen our resolve to work for justice and peace,
Even in the face of despair.
May our grief deepen our compassion
And guide us toward healing and wholeness.
Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Holding Collective Grief
Create space to hold your grief and the grief of others.
Pause for Reflection: Set aside a few quiet moments to reflect on the losses you feel most deeply—whether personal or collective. Allow yourself to name them without judgment or rushing to fix them.
Lament in Community: Share your grief with someone you trust. Whether it’s a friend, family member, or faith community, let this be a time to acknowledge your pain together.
Take One Healing Action: Choose one small way to respond to the grief you feel. It could be writing a letter to a lawmaker, donating to a cause you care about, or offering kindness to someone in need. Let this action remind you that even in mourning, you have the power to create change.
Let this practice ground you in the truth that grief is not the end of the story. In our mourning, we turn to one another. In the turning, we find Love. Presence. Peace.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
February 6, 7-8pm ET - Join my conversation “Mindful Healing: Tools For Inner Balance and Wellbeing” with Rev. Dr. Isa Gucciardi. Register here.
February 27, 2025, 12-1:30pm - Margaret Wheatley and I are offering a 4 or 8-session course called “Are We Made for These Times?” If you know Meg’s work, it’s going to be extraordinary. If you want the deep dive, the 8-session course is for you. You can read about the shorter 4-session course here. Scholarships are available. I sooooo hope you can be a part of this!
July 20-25, 2025 - The Art of Wilding: A 5-Day Expedition in Wyoming for Women Leaders. Click here to learn more. Only two spots left!
August 11, 2025, 2pm ET - Dr. Andrew Root and I will be hosting a 6 part series on Spirituality in the Secular Age based on his research. The dates are August 11, 18, September 8, 15, and October 6, 13. Mark your calendars! More on this soon.
October 15-18, 2025 - Converging 2025: Sing Truth Conference (all musicians invited!) at Northwest Christian Church in Columbus, OH. Mark your calendars for now. More info is coming.
I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.
Nice piece on grief. While they are related, loneliness and grief are not interchangeable words, realities, or processes. Peace, Rev. Dwight Lee Wolter, author of “The Gospel of Loneliness” (Pilgrim Press, UCC)
Excellent commentary. My only reservation is that our culture is so afraid of loss/emptiness that there is a strong bias toward rushing into action or trying to make the bad feeling go away that, even with your warnings, people may push to get through the emptiness. I like your helping to provide “containment” through seeking connection with others and with Spirit. I find the 23rd Psalm very helpful—we are not alone in the Valley of Death. It is in the emptiness that the New Creation can emerge, and we don’t know what that looks like. After the emptiness of the time between the Crucifixion and Resurrection, Jesus did not appear to his loved ones looking like he had looked. It is not only his form that is different; it is our “eyes,” our way of seeing that is different, tenderized. Compassion is not something we need to practice; it becomes much more who we ARE. We ache more with the pain of others, and that changes how we ACT.