Blessed Are the Merciful

“Perhaps being merciful is about refraining from condemnation. It’s about looking upon others with understanding and empathy, responding to their needs as fellow travelers in life’s journey…Perhaps this gospel passage might inspire you to pray for the capacity to live mercifully towards others and yourself.”

Wow. Be merciful towards yourself. Now there’s a thought.

Those words from a reflection I heard about the Gospel on Friday morning really hit home.

Am I merciful towards others?

Am I merciful toward myself?

The LORD is gracious and merciful. slow to anger and abounding in mercy.

Psalm 145:8

The last few months have been some of the most demanding, challenging, and painful moments in the aftermath of loss—the “afterlife,” as I keep wanting to call it. Welcome to life after the loss of my husband. I need grace and mercy.

Maybe you can relate to this feeling of navigating life after a significant loss. Maybe you need to be more merciful toward yourself. Maybe you want or need some extra grace and mercy.

Trauma, grief, and loss have wreaked havoc on my mind, body, and spirit. After years of caregiving (in many ways), anticipatory grief, living while holding my breath with so much uncertainty, and still raising, guiding, and launching kids (even now as a solo parent responsible for all things), it makes sense that things just catch up and break down.

The thing is, I am only capable of attending to what is in front of me, what is a priority each day. I have done my best to honor this boundary for myself. I am working each day to honor where I am called to be, by choosing that which brings me the most peace, grace, and…mercy.

As we counted and sorted beads together for the shop, a friend gently reminded me this week that it’s not my responsibility to fix everything impacted by the diagnosis, caregiving, loss, and the process of rebuilding a life. I’ve been stepping around the shattered pieces of my life, much like walking on eggshells.

I have already done that—walk on eggshells—too much of my life.

It’s neither easy nor healthy to live this way—constantly worrying about and fixing everything that’s broken around me, especially when it’s not my responsibility, especially when I walking through hard days of caregiving, grief and loss. I am not accountable for every detail, swirling expectations, and narratives that seem to whisper in the wind.

There were times when Jon was sick, and I cared for him around the clock while also being the most supportive wife and mother I could be. During those moments, I often felt burdened by responsibilities and expectations that were not mine, especially as I was managing heavy responsibilities with my beloved husband’s time growing shorter. I focused on providing the best care for him during his final years, months, and days while also doing my best to care for our children and myself. Often, I wondered who was carrying/caring for me.

I was not, and am not, a martyr, but rather a wife offering sacrificial love as Jon lived his final days. I would NOT change anything about the love and care I poured into Jon and my children during that time. I am grateful for those who poured into my life at the time. Oh, the grace, mercy, love.

I pray often—daily—that I heal from the brokenness that resulted in not meeting others’ expectations. Maybe you can relate to being unable to measure up (whether to your own expectations or others’) while walking a long, painful road. Only God can mend those broken places. I’ve given it all to Him.

In hindsight and with the help of God revealing to me in prayer, I see where demands and expectations were unfairly placed on me (thanks to myself and others) that I couldn’t meet with my limited energy and time, further rupturing what was already fractured. So much didn’t make sense then and hardly does now. But we know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Rom 8:28) 

I can’t fix all that is broken and needs healing and mending, like fences and hearts.

I pray in time for clarity and healing.

Only God can heal; may we give thanks and praise for that ahead of time.

“By His wounds, we were healed.”

1 Peter 2:24.

We all walk through life carrying crosses, some heavier than others. We are called to be Simons of Cyrene, helping others along their journey with kindness, understanding, empathy, and mercy. Some choose to be spectators. Despite their good intentions, some may seek personal gain through their support. Others, however, offer their help for the glory of God, genuinely embodying grace, mercy, and sacrificial love—living out the Beatitudes. 

While we hope others will walk with us with kindness, grace, mercy, unconditional love, and without judgment, we cannot expect or demand how others will treat us in our darkest days. Actions always speak louder than words.

As my friend and I sorted through beads and bracelets for the shop, she also helped me navigate some emotional and spiritual matters. In our gentle, compassionate conversation, she offered me mercy and suggested that I might not be as kind and merciful to myself as I am to others. She questioned why I felt responsible for so many things that weren’t mine to carry or fix, especially while caring for my husband and now as I grieve his tremendous loss. Back then, my focus was solely on Jon and our kids. Now, she suggested, like anyone dealing with such a profound loss, my children and myself should be my top priorities. Whether it involves writing, creating for the shop, spending time at home, traveling, or simply taking time for myself, I have the freedom to choose where to direct my energy. This includes caring for my heart and well-being. It is not the time to fix things that are outside of my control.

What freedom!

Grace and Mercy.

Rather than Guilt and Shame for all of the ways we “should” ourselves.

I have pondered those words—Be Merciful to yourself— a LOT since she, my friend, shed light on such a profound thought…Note: I am a recovering people-pleaser who learned to walk through life on eggshells—no wonder I feel responsible for things that are not mine to fix.

I have taken this to prayer, and God is moving in this moment as I discover places He is revealing in this painful afterlife that need healing beyond the loss of my husband.

He heals with grace, mercy and love.

Perhaps that is why the reflection I heard this (Friday) morning touched me so profoundly.

It’s clear I need to be more merciful toward myself. I bet I am not alone in recognizing there are times when I need to be more merciful toward myself especially when going through a hard time. Maybe we need reminding to be more merciful others when they are going through a hard time, too.

Perhaps God is using this moment and these past few hard months to show me that walking tenderly—not eggshells with high expectations—and mercifully through this grief and afterlife is necessary for healing to move forward and to rebuild this new life.

I know that a good and gracious God loves and cares for me deeply. Even during some of the darkest days, my faith in God and the mercy He extended to me made those times lighter and more hopeful. He never abandoned me, even when we may abandon ourselves or others when the road becomes too hard to walk.

Let Him embrace us with His mercy.

He NEVER leaves us.

Walking alongside someone in suffering, tragedy or grief is not easy. It challenges us, it requires grace and mercy. We often try to fix what isn’t ours to fix and offer words we believe the person in the suffering needs to hear, even when they express that they need something different. In our efforts to share positive thoughts and solutions, we may inadvertently dismiss their pain and cause further hurt despite our best intentions.

Our well-meaning efforts can sometimes be met with resistance and feelings of abandonment when our words don’t provide the comfort we hoped for.

Just listening and offering grace and mercy is a good place to start. 

I know one thing is true: change is inevitable while walking hard roads, and it transforms us deeply. Being offered grace and mercy can transform those difficult journeys we are asked to walk while carrying heavy crosses.

I am not the same person I was since the conversation with that friend—small mercy. 

I am not the same person I was last month since I lost our dog and faced another tremendous loss in our family.

I am definitely not the same person I was last year before I lost my husband to brain cancer. 

And I definitely am not who I was before I woke up on July 20, 2020, the day I first learned Jon had a mass on his brain and needed to be transferred to another hospital to care for a devastating diagnosis. That moment marked a turning point in my life, altering everything.

I needed a lot of grace and to be more merciful towards myself. I still do.

Maybe I needed a lot more grace and mercy and didn’t need to take on responsibility for things that were not mine to carry. I see that more clearly now. 

Four years later, I am committed to being as merciful to myself as I was to Jon during his most difficult days and final years. I aim to show the same compassion to my children as I did when I had to explain our challenges to them. I also strive to extend the same mercy to others as they navigate their challenging journeys and seek the kind of understanding and support I hoped to receive as I walked Jon through his brain cancer journey and hope for now as I continue rebuilding this life without him. 

Mercy has the power to transform us and give us hope, and it’s only by the grace of a Merciful Father I can keep going each day. 

By His wounds, I am healed.

May we pray for the capacity to live mercifully for others and for ourselves.

“Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy.”

Mt 5:7 

Note on mercy: St. Thomas Aquinas defined the virtue of “mercy” in his great Summa Theologiae (II-II.30.1) as “the compassion in our hearts for another person’s misery, a compassion which drives us to do what we can to help him.”