It can be a lonely time for those of us whose arms are empty.

Impermanence, mortality, ashes, dust: this is the truth of being human.

Before I birthed my baby, he was a possibility, a kick against my insides. With that first cry, first breath, he became a person in the world.

Sometimes grief sends notice ahead of time; sometimes, it shows up as an unwelcome, uninvited guest.

"Grief no more needs a solution than love needs a solution. We cannot 'triumph' over death, or loss, or grief. They are immovable elements of being alive. If we continue to come at them as though they are problems to be solved, we'll never get solace or comfort in our deepest pain."...

[S]piritual and meditative practices are not meant to erase pain. That's a symptom of our pain-avoidant culture, and not an accurate portrayal of the practices themselves. It's a misuse of so many beautiful teachings to force them into roles they were never meant to play....

We are broken, O God. We are broken. We gather in vigil again to mourn the death of school children and school teachers. Death and violence are the reasons that draw us together in sorrow, in anger, in anxious grief and loss....

In my small-town congregation, our beloved dead seem to linger with us for a little while.

Set up for this ritual: It's especially meaningful to have a congregant bake bread for communion. (If that’s not possible, store bought bread will do.) Cut the bread into cubes and place in baskets lined with napkins. Have a basket of gluten-free crackers available as well. To hold the juice, one...

Holy One, on this day of remembrance we say aloud their names again: the names of those who died this year. Died — the word is jarring. So jarring that we hardly use the word, substituting euphemisms that are a bit more vague. Sometimes people say “lost” when what they mean is dead: “We lost...

Inexplicable. How we rise each morning, instead of burying our heads under bedcovers, sewing them shut. Why we keep on welcoming babies with bone-deep joy to this sordid world. How we fill burlap sacks with grit and gratitude, our hands shredded as we drag one over the other....

I will lift up my voice and sing; Whatever may befall me, I will still follow the light which kindles song. I will listen to the music Arising out of grief and joy alike, I will not deny my voice to the song....

Mother's Day is complicated. Joyful for many, yes, but complicated. It's right there on the calendar, even if your mother has died....

The first time I ever played “Taps” was at summer camp when I was ten years old. That was the year I started playing trumpet, so I can only imagine how it sounded. I know there was no way that I could have hit the high note near the end. The first time I played Taps in honor of those who died...