I’ve never liked my birth name. As a kid I always wished my parents had chosen their other consideration:  Jan Elizabeth instead of Jan Lanell. My dislike increased exponentially during a first grade awards assembly when all the other kids heard the principal announce “Jan Lanell Mooney”. Raymond Beall, my sweet friend whose untimely death I mourned, and funeral I attended a few years ago, immediately and loudly repeated it; but instead of pronouncing it “La Nell” he said “Lannel”. I was truly mortified. Introverted first-grade silly? Yes! But I still don’t like it. 

I’ve had other names attached to me throughout my life:  child, grandchild, niece, cousin, sibling, best friend, girlfriend, wife, in-law, aunt, preacher’s wife, mom, step-child, step-sibling, counselor, widow, grandparent, step-parent. Most I’ve loved, some I’ve struggled with, and one I hated.

God thinks of everything though and he has designed me a new name. He’s so positive that it’s perfect for me that He’s already engraved it on a white stone. He hasn’t told me what it is yet though because it’s a secret between us and he probably knows I’d want to start using it immediately. It’s a very special name—so special, in fact, that I’m the only one who will understand it and its meaning. He can do that because He’s the only One who knew me before he created the world and only He can give me such a perfect name. Whatever it is, I know I’m going to love it. 

Anyone with ears to hear must listen to the Spirit 

and understand what he is saying… 

To everyone who is victorious 

I will give some of the manna 

that has been hidden away in heaven. 

And I will give to each one a white stone, 

and on the stone will be engraved a new name 

that no one understands except the one who receives it. 

Revelation 2:17

I never set out to become personally knowledgeable on grief—no one in her right mind would. Rather, it was a crash course thrust on me when my husband, Dan, was killed on his way to work in 2011. And I’m only an expert on my own grief. I’d provided a fair amount of professional grief counseling over the years, but I’d not been the griever; and believe you me, they’re two entirely different roles. 

Before I forget to say it:  NEVER EVER tell a griever that you know how they feel. Because. You. DON’T. And if they’re like me, I hope they’ll quickly tell you that you don’t know what you’re talking about. 

Random things I know:

The worst part of grief is knowing that something has been forever changed. The person you love (and your love doesn’t stop when they die) is never coming back to live in this world; but it’s complicated and hard work to get your heart and head to the same place on that immovable fact. Losing your spouse makes you an automatic member of a club that nobody wants to join. 

Grieving is pretty much a solitary walk with or without God, as you so choose. It’s wonderful to have the loving support of family and friends, but no one else really understands the walk except the griever and God. For myself, I cannot even imagine how non-believers navigate it. 

I know my first instinct, as a woman and helper, is to want to “fix it” for someone else; but it can’t be “fixed”. God will bring healing, but it takes a long time; and grief is exhausting—mentally, physically and emotionally.

Crying is NOT a bad thing. God gave it to us to help us cleanse our emotions. Tears were right under the surface for a very long time for me. I, and Richard for his Beth, sometimes cry even now; the difference is that we can do it together and for each other. Time is a wonderful buffer, but the heart will always hold tender spots. 

God knows our every hurt; and until he walks us Home to be with him forever, he’ll keep holding our hand. And that’s the truth.