How to Grieve in June

It is the end of June and I am grieving again.

As you probably know, for the past seven years, I have been on staff at The Window, Goshen’s community kitchen/food pantry and services hub for our most vulnerable neighbors. In Counterweights, I wrote, “The Window, with its ever-expanding circle of witnesses, is a prophetess of plenty.”

Wednesday morning, we were stunned to learn that The Window organization is pausing (most) services for the next 30 days as part of a “stabilizing period.” (Read the press release here.) Most staff, myself included, were laid off, effective Monday.

It has only been a few days, but this community crisis has consumed me. Our last emergency staff meeting was as raw as you might imagine. What is a budgetary migraine for me is an all-out catastrophe for others. Emotional scenes now play on a loop in my consciousness. The moment was and remains sacred. Even in the guts of it, my heartbroken friends were my guides - emblems of selfless care, living reminders that sometimes, the most helpful thing we can say is, “You are not alone” (and mean it.) They formed a circle of care that literally reached out. They reminded me that when trouble arrives, “Do you need a hug?” is often the first necessary remedy.

At the end of the meeting, my friend moved across the room to where I sat. He stood behind me, offering a clumsy side-hug. I reached back, awkwardly clutching his fingers and, for a moment, resting my head on his forearm. It might be the oddest hug of my life. But it meant something. It helped.

As we fight for The Window to find sure footing, we will continue to lean and lurch into the shelter of community. In the end, that’s always the cure.

“If we long for a reality where we are held and cared for in our scariest moments, we have to be willing to stop into the fray for those around us.” Start with Hello

I’m sure I’ll continue to process as I and my beloved co-workers try to move forward and support our neighbors who rely on The Window’s services. Goshen is proud of its faith roots. There has never been a better time to demonstrate the fruit by showing up for those who have few resources.

We could be the miracle we need. I pray it will be so.

//

A few days ago, I ran into a friendly acquaintance. “How’s your summer going?” she beamed. Because my knee-jerk reaction is always uncomfortable honesty, I answered, “It’s actually been pretty crappy,” which stopped her in her tracks. What she probably assumed would be a quick, in-passing greeting became something different. She listened patiently. Then, out of no sense of obligation or compulsion to find the silver lining, I added, “But, it’s also summertime. We still get this warm air. We get to be outside. We get to live in this wonderful town.”

All of it is true.

Its sum is this magical, stark raving mad life I adore.

I’ll keep you posted as I learn more. In the meantime, thank you for supporting my work (and my family) here at the The Soup. It is truly helping to keep us afloat. If you’d like to become a paid subscriber (25% discount is still running!) click here:

Fat Tomato Summer resumes next week!

Until then, here’s my on-the-fly guide to summertime grief: