When Grief Knocks, Let Love In

Loss is part of the human story. We lose possessions, jobs, relationships, and sometimes the people we love most. Any loss can be painful, but losing someone who has been part of your life for a long time can feel like the weight of the world pressing on your heart. You may wonder how life can have meaning without them. Everything can seem empty and joyless. You might withdraw from people and slip into isolation.

Grief is personal and shaped by each person’s culture, beliefs, and relationship to the one they’ve lost. There is no single “right” way to grieve. For some, being alone for a time can offer space to process. But staying apart from the care of family, friends, and community for too long can deepen loneliness instead of bringing healing.

Rabbi Harold Kushner offers a gentle reminder for such times: when grief knocks, open the door and let people in. Allow them to come into your home, share in your sorrow, and remind you that you are still alive and part of a living world. Nothing can replace the person you’ve lost, but that doesn’t mean they should be buried in silence. You can keep their memory alive by speaking about them, sharing their stories, and expressing what you miss most.

Opening your heart to those who come with genuine care can bring comfort, connection, and a sense of not being alone. Sharing your grief will not bring your loved one back, but it can honor their life and allow their spirit to remain present—woven into your story as you take each step forward.

Grief knocks alone, but healing enters with others.

 

Notes

Kushner H. S. (1981). When bad things happen to good people (p. 133). Anchor Books.

Calming the Terrors of Un-belonging

Humans carry within them a deep, innate need to connect—woven into our very DNA is a longing to belong. Whether we are aware of it or not, this desire quietly guides our choices, our behaviors, and our relationships. To feel like we don’t belong—what we might call un-belonging—can be profoundly painful.

Toko-pa Turner, a Canadian writer and founder of Dream School, speaks powerfully about the ache of being on the outside of belonging. She writes that un-belonging is “the excruciating belief that you are not needed. That life does not consider you necessary. When nobody comes after you with invitation, it confirms your worst fear and sends you pushing further into the province of exile, even towards the cold beckoning of death.”

Her words give voice to the rawness many of us have felt at some point in our lives. For some, this pain is fleeting; for others, it becomes a silent burden carried for years. The feeling that we are not needed or valued can show up anywhere: in a romantic relationship, a friendship, a family system, a faith community, or a workplace. Sometimes it stems from actual rejection. Other times, it's rooted in our own mistaken assumptions—or a painful mix of both. In the grip of un-belonging, we may begin to see ourselves as worthless, pushing away even those who truly care. In extreme cases, this self-rejection can turn inward, leading to despair or even suicidal thoughts. Turner calls suicide “the ultimate self-rejection.”

So what can we do when we feel exiled from connection? Turner offers an unexpected but healing response: to stand fully in our own un-belonging. Rather than fleeing from it, we are invited to become friendly with the terrors of loneliness and exclusion. When we begin to embrace our own aloneness, something powerful happens—we start calming the voices that scream we’re not enough, not lovable, not wanted.

True belonging, it turns out, doesn’t come from avoiding loneliness, but from moving toward it with compassion. As we do this, the fear of rejection loses its grip. We become more rooted in ourselves and more capable of extending invitations to connect—and of receiving the invitations others offer us.

 

Notes 

Turner, T. (2017). Belonging: Remembering ourselves home (pp. 22-25). Her Own Room Press. 

Already Loved

Christian Scripture affirms that God loves us consistently and unconditionally, whether we are good or bad. This raises an honest question: Why be good if we're already loved, even when we act unjustly or exploit others?

Ronald Rolheiser reflects on this with piercing clarity:
If God loves us equally when we are bad and when we are good, then why be good? This is an interesting question, though not a deep one. Love, understood properly, is never a reward for being good. Goodness, rather, is always a consequence of having been loved. We are not loved because we are good, but hopefully we become good as we experience love.

This truth unravels our transactional instincts. Love that requires goodness in exchange is business, not grace. Real love - divine love - doesn't demand worthiness, but creates it. When we're truly soaked in the reality of being accepted as we are, something shifts: we begin to mirror the love we've received.

Rewards and punishments can manufacture temporary compliance, but they can't transform. The moment the incentives disappear, so does the "goodness" they produced. But love - the kind that meets us in our mess and whispers "you're mine" before we change - this love does something radical. It doesn't force goodness upon us; it draws out the goodness placed within us.

To be loved like this is to be given new eyes. We start seeing ourselves as the One who loves us sees us: not as projects to fix, but as beloved to restore. And from this place of secure love, we discover our truest selves - not perfect, but being made whole. Here, goodness isn't an obligation; it's the natural fruit of knowing we're already, irrevocably loved.

 

 

Notes

·       Rolheiser, R. (2014). Sacred fire: A vision for a deeper human and Christian maturity (p. 118). Image.

·       John 3:16, often cited, highlights God's love for the world to the extent of giving his only son.

·       Romans 5:8 emphasizes that God demonstrated his love by sending Christ to die for us even while we were still sinners, demonstrating love regardless of our flaws. 

Why Does God Love Us?

Why does God love us?

God loves us because He is pure and infinite love. It is His very nature to love. As Ronald Rolheiser, the American theologian, beautifully puts it:

God loves us when we are good, and God loves us when we are bad. God loves the saints in heaven, and God equally loves the devils in hell. They merely respond differently. The father of the prodigal son and of his older brother loves both equally—one in his weakness, the other in his bitterness—and his embrace is not contingent upon their conversion. He loves them even inside their distance from him.

God cannot deny Himself. His love is not a reaction; it is a reflection of who He is. He is love—unconditional, unchanging, and infinite. His love does not depend on us—on whether we succeed or fail, do good or do wrong. God’s love flows from the very core of His being.

God does not waver or drift in His love from person to person or situation to situation. No—He loves us consistently, because He remains true to Himself.

God loves us because He is love.

The deeper question for us might be this: Can we cultivate a life and a personality rooted in love—not based on who others are or what they do, but on who we are called to be?

 

Notes

·       Rolheiser, R. (2014). Sacred fire: A vision for a deeper human and Christian maturity (p. 118). Image.

·       The Parable of the Prodigal Son – See Luke 15:11–32.

·       “God is love” – See 1 John 4:8. 

 

 

The Unjust Judge Within

Humans may be the only species that consciously believes in the principle of justice. At its core, justice is the practice of fairness, moral rightness, and lawfulness in how we treat others—and ourselves. It requires that consequences are given in proportion to the action and that we do not carry burdens beyond what is deserved.

Yet within us often lives a quiet contradiction: an unjust judge. While we may say we value justice, we frequently rehearse guilt, shame, and blame far beyond what fairness allows. A mistake, once made, becomes a lifelong sentence. Rather than paying once, we pay repeatedly—mentally, emotionally, and relationally.

In The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, Don Miguel Ruiz observes:

How many times do we pay for one mistake? The answer is thousands of times. The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake... We make a mistake, we judge ourselves, we find ourselves guilty, and we punish ourselves... every time we remember, we judge ourselves again... and again if we have a wife or husband he or she also reminds us of the mistake, so we can judge ourselves again, punish ourselves again, and find ourselves guilty again. Is this fair?

Ruiz goes on to ask how often we make others—our spouses, children, parents, or friends—pay repeatedly for the same wrongdoing. Each time we recall their mistakes, we reactivate our hurt and send them the emotional poison of resentment. That cycle, he says, is not justice.

True justice sets limits on punishment. It frees us after a wrong has been addressed. But the unjust judge within us thrives on memory, turning justice into a tool of torment. Instead of restoring balance, it reopens wounds.

To break this cycle, we must first recognize the presence of this inner judge and respond with compassion. Real justice begins with mercy—toward ourselves and others. It ends not in endless punishment but in peace.

Notes

[1] Ruiz, D. M. (1997). The four agreements: A practical guide to personal freedom (p. 12). Amber-Allen Publishing.

Soul Seeks Meaning in Pain

Pain is a universal experience shared by all living beings. A broken bone or a burn causes physical pain, which even animals feel. This instinctive reaction to pain is part of our shared biological makeup. However, Harold Kushner highlights a distinctly human ability: the capacity to view pain through the lens of meaning. Unlike animals, the human soul seeks to find purpose, especially in moments of suffering.

Kushner contrasts two intense forms of human pain: childbirth and passing a kidney stone. While no one would willingly endure the pain of a kidney stone, as it serves no purpose, a woman embraces the pain of childbirth because it holds profound meaning. This meaning transforms suffering into a source of joy, fulfillment, and new life.

Kushner reminds us, “Pain is the price we pay for being alive.” Dead bodies feel no pain. When we approach pain—whether physical or emotional—with a perspective of meaning-making, our focus shifts. Instead of asking:

“Why do we have to feel pain?”

We begin to ask:

“How can we make our pain meaningful, rather than just empty suffering?”

Though we may not always understand why pain occurs, we can choose how to respond. Pain can either embitter us or cultivate growth, compassion, and sensitivity. By discovering meaning in suffering, we can transform it into a pathway for healing, personal growth, and communion.

 

Notes

Kushner H. S. (1981). When bad things happen to good people (pp. 72-73). Anchor Books.

The Power of Memory: Guiding the Present, Shaping the Future

To remember is to allow the past to live again in such a way that it can shape the present and the future.

Memory is one of the most powerful forces shaping human life. While we often focus on our thoughts, emotions, relationships, and beliefs, it is memory—quiet and persistent—that influences us in profound and lasting ways. Our past is not behind us; it is within us, guiding the present and shaping the path ahead.

Every decision we make is colored by what we remember. A painful memory can cause us to avoid risk or intimacy. A joyful one can give us the courage to step forward. Our behaviors, reactions, and even the ways we interpret reality are often filtered through the lens of remembered experience—sometimes consciously, often unconsciously.

Our culture, relationships, spiritual life, and emotional world all leave imprints on our memory. These imprints don’t just sit idly; they inform how we live, what we expect, and how we relate to others and to ourselves.

That’s why it is essential to become aware of the memories we carry. Some memories nourish and inspire us. Others may be distorted, painful, or limiting. Yet all memories carry meaning—and when approached reflectively, they offer insight, healing, and the possibility of transformation.

We are not powerless before our memories. We can choose to revisit them, reframe them, and even release those that no longer serve our growth. In doing so, we align memory with our values, letting it support—not sabotage—our present and future.

By learning from memory without being ruled by it, we become freer, wiser, and more whole.

"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate."
— Attributed to Carl Jung

Notes

Jung, C. G. (1959). Aion: Researches into the phenomenology of the self (Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9, Part 2, para. 126, pp. 70–71). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1951)