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Mary and Ken lived right down the street from me. They were famous for their amazing hospitality, adorable farm house, and parties that stepped right from the pages of Southern Living.
Mary was alive with creativity and was always thinking of ways to bless others. Ken adored living out his retirement years helping his bride create a haven for family and friends.
They were still young and vivacious with many plans. But cancer swept in and before long Ken laid Mary to rest in the arms of Jesus.
I remember seeing Ken in our Chick-fil-A restaurant not long after Mary's funeral. He and Mary had been regulars for years. I knew I needed to stop and say something. But what?
I felt so unsure as I walked toward my grieving friend.
As I approached, words escaped me, so I just bent down and gave him a hug. Tears filled his eyes, "The silence is killing me Lysa."
"Well then, you must come to our house for dinner. I can't always promise it will be tidy and I'm certainly no great cook, but one thing is for sure... my house is never silent."
Thus started a tradition that lasted over a year, Monday nights with Ken.
I have to admit that I didn't feel adequate to have Mary's husband over for dinner. He was used to Mary's lavish meals... all I had to give was quick and thrown together kid- friendly offerings.
We never had candles or table cloths or even a properly set table. But the noise of our family was an orchestra of comfort and healing to Ken's lonely heart.
We just did life and let him join in. I would often ask about Mary's ways of doing things and his face would light up at the opportunity to keep part of her alive.
One night as Ken was leaving our home, he stepped off the sidewalk to make his way over to a bush in full bloom. He tenderly picked up one of the flowers and pressed his face close, breathing deeply its scent.
He then looked back at me standing in the doorway and said, "Don't rush through your life Lysa. Make time to stop and breathe it all in."
I've never forgotten that.
What started out as a simple gesture to help a grieving neighbor became one of the greatest blessings of my life. And I've done a lot of breathing it all in, ever since.
If you've ever had a friend that is grieving and wondered what you could do or say to help them, my friend LeAnn Rice has a wonderful post to use as a resource. To see it click here. She is the executive director of Proverbs 31 Ministries and has recently started a blog called "The Widow's Might." Her husband and best friend Ron passed away when their son was only 3 years old.
LeAnn knows what it is to grieve and has a passion to help others. Her advice is worth printing and saving.
Mary and Ken lived right down the street from me. They were famous for their amazing hospitality, adorable farm house, and parties that stepped right from the pages of Southern Living.
Mary was alive with creativity and was always thinking of ways to bless others. Ken adored living out his retirement years helping his bride create a haven for family and friends.
They were still young and vivacious with many plans. But cancer swept in and before long Ken laid Mary to rest in the arms of Jesus.
I remember seeing Ken in our Chick-fil-A restaurant not long after Mary's funeral. He and Mary had been regulars for years. I knew I needed to stop and say something. But what?
I felt so unsure as I walked toward my grieving friend.
As I approached, words escaped me, so I just bent down and gave him a hug. Tears filled his eyes, "The silence is killing me Lysa."
"Well then, you must come to our house for dinner. I can't always promise it will be tidy and I'm certainly no great cook, but one thing is for sure... my house is never silent."
Thus started a tradition that lasted over a year, Monday nights with Ken.
I have to admit that I didn't feel adequate to have Mary's husband over for dinner. He was used to Mary's lavish meals... all I had to give was quick and thrown together kid- friendly offerings.
We never had candles or table cloths or even a properly set table. But the noise of our family was an orchestra of comfort and healing to Ken's lonely heart.
We just did life and let him join in. I would often ask about Mary's ways of doing things and his face would light up at the opportunity to keep part of her alive.
One night as Ken was leaving our home, he stepped off the sidewalk to make his way over to a bush in full bloom. He tenderly picked up one of the flowers and pressed his face close, breathing deeply its scent.
He then looked back at me standing in the doorway and said, "Don't rush through your life Lysa. Make time to stop and breathe it all in."
I've never forgotten that.
What started out as a simple gesture to help a grieving neighbor became one of the greatest blessings of my life. And I've done a lot of breathing it all in, ever since.
If you've ever had a friend that is grieving and wondered what you could do or say to help them, my friend LeAnn Rice has a wonderful post to use as a resource. To see it click here. She is the executive director of Proverbs 31 Ministries and has recently started a blog called "The Widow's Might." Her husband and best friend Ron passed away when their son was only 3 years old.
LeAnn knows what it is to grieve and has a passion to help others. Her advice is worth printing and saving.
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