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I spoke with a widow this weekend who I have not seen for quite some time. She asked after my parents and I mentioned that Dad had had a fall and was now in a wheelchair. She offered her regrets and I responded that we were thankful to the Lord for the life he continues to have, painful though it is. Even before the words were complete, searing pain altered her expression. Although some years have passed since her loss, her eyes yielded up a pain that was biting and raw.

I left our time together regretting the encounter - regretting the pain I had ripped wide open - regretting my honesty about dad.

Last night, returning from Mom & Dad's, I cried yet again for my parents. The pain doesn't stop simply because the circumstance continues.

As I reflect back now on the two events I recognize that my words to the widow were mostly a lie. Mostly, I am not thankful to God for the life that Dad continues to have. It is agonizing for me to see my parents deal with all of the implications. It was not my honesty that hurt the widow but my lack of it.

The following from Henri Nouwen's Literary Centre brings a much needed healing oil to my soul today.

Holding the Cup

We all must hold the cups of our lives. As we grow older and become more fully aware of the many sorrows of life - personal failures, family conflicts, disappointments in work and social life, and the many pains surrounding us on the national and international scene - everything within and around us conspires to make us ignore, avoid, suppress, or simply deny these sorrows. "Look at the sunny side of life and make the best of it," we say to ourselves and hear others say to us. But when we want to drink the cups of our lives, we need first to hold them, to fully acknowledge what we are living, trusting that by not avoiding but befriending our sorrows we will discover the true joy we are looking for right in the midst of our sorrows.

Still working through my grief: recovering damaged liar.