The Hospitality of Shared Grief

by Lois Flowers

Inside:  When someone makes an effort to meet us where we are—with an overture or gesture they believe we would appreciate—it can make all the difference in the world to our hurting hearts. ~

Not long ago, I texted my friend Beth about getting together for coffee. It had been a while since we’d seen each other, and I had heard she had been dealing with some unexpected health challenges.

Beth is a bit further down the parent-loss road than I am. She also knew my mom and dad well from church, and her willingness to share in my grief has been a great blessing to me these last few years.

Beth responded that she’d love to meet for coffee, but that wasn’t all.

“Maybe we could go out to your parents’ grave afterwards?” she wrote.

A Kind Invitation

As I pondered this kind invitation later, the phrase that came to mind was “the hospitality of shared grief.”

At first glance, grief and hospitality may not seem like words that go together. The way I see it, though, they are an appropriate duo.

Hospitality denotes a warm welcome, a comfortable table, encouraging conversation, common feelings. What better place to be, as a grieving person, than in the tender presence of another person who understands?

Maybe not because they have lived through the same exact loss, but because the sadness they have endured has enlarged their ability to relate.

What it Looks Like

The hospitality of shared grief takes on many forms—as varied as the personalities and experiences of the people participating in it.

It might look like hug in the church lobby. A conversation over coffee or Zoom. A card or text on a difficult anniversary date. A walk around the lake. A morning spent cooking a treasured family recipe together.

It can also be extended through the offer to read a book together, unshed tears in the eyes of a gentle listener or even an empathetic comment on a blog or Instagram post.

Intentional Overtures

These gifts of compassion aren’t elaborate or expensive. But they are intentional. And that’s one of the best things about them.

When someone makes an effort to meet us where we are—with an overture or gesture they believe we would appreciate—it can make all the difference in the world.

Beth and I did visit the cemetery the day we met for coffee. She told me that she stops by my parents’ gravesite when she is missing her own parents, who are buried in a different state.

Being there with her was comforting to me, and so was knowing she also finds solace there. Whether it’s in the cemetery or somewhere else, I have feeling this won’t be the last time we experience the hospitality of shared grief together.

• • •

Have you ever experienced the hospitality of shared grief? What did that look like for you?

Lois

The hospitality of shared grief takes on many forms: a hug in the church lobby, a conversation over coffee or Zoom, a card or text on a difficult anniversary date, a walk around a lake. Share on X When someone makes an effort to meet us where we are—with an overture or gesture they believe we would appreciate—it can make all the difference in the world. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragementsLet’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

Leave a Comment

18 comments

Lynn April 22, 2024 - 12:40 pm

A kind invitation from a friend that knows. It’s in the knowing and the invitation that kindness abounds. I hope I’m a friend for my friends that extends those kind invitations! You’ve reminded me to be intentional to show kindness and reach out to those special friends in my life.

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Lois Flowers April 29, 2024 - 8:43 pm

I have a feeling you are exactly that kind of friend, Lynn. 🙂

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Paula April 20, 2024 - 8:27 am

What a wonderful friend. You know I don’t think I’ve experienced the hospitality of shared grief. What a beautiful thing.
Visiting today from Joanne’s

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Lois Flowers April 21, 2024 - 7:35 pm

It is a beautiful thing, Paula. You may not have experienced it but I would say you have offered it to me many times through your kind comments. Hugs, friend.

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Donna April 19, 2024 - 5:21 pm

The hospitality of caring presence is so precious, Lois. We often think we have to do something more elaborate, but the times I feel most cared for are the times someone is willing to simply hold space for my grief with me, a true gift.

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Lois Flowers April 21, 2024 - 7:33 pm

I agree, Donna … “a true gift” indeed.

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Nancy Ruegg April 18, 2024 - 5:18 pm

Praise God for the friends in our lives who share our troubles and griefs. I’m thinking of a time when a dear friend embraced me as I cried, but said nothing except, “I’m so, so sorry.” I knew from the look in her eyes she understood and cared. No other words were needed. (Sometimes I end up saying too much!)

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Lois Flowers April 21, 2024 - 7:33 pm

Me too, Nancy. Isn’t it wonderful to be on the receiving end of such quiet comfort?

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Barbara Harper April 18, 2024 - 3:51 pm

Over the last few years, I’ve been coming to the realization that hospitality isn’t just inviting someone to our house, but having an open heart, willing to welcome and share in another’s joys and sorrows. Your friend Beth sounds like the soul of that kind of hospitality.

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Lois Flowers April 21, 2024 - 7:32 pm

She really is, Barbara. I love how you describe hospitality, too.

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Joanne Viola April 17, 2024 - 6:02 am

Lois, you and Beth share a most special and precious friendship. This >> “gifts of compassion aren’t elaborate or expensive. But they are intentional.” Their intentionality is what makes them the best gifts which we always hold dear.

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Lois Flowers April 17, 2024 - 5:10 pm

Joanne, reading your comment brought to mind the phrase, “It’s the thought that counts.” The fact that someone thinks of us and then acts on it means so much, doesn’t it?

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Trudy April 16, 2024 - 10:30 am

What a special friend you have, Lois. Someone who goes the distance to meet you where you’re at. I’m thinking it is soon the anniversary that your parents left this earth? I’m certain they would be so proud of how you are helping others who are grieving the loss of parents. Love and warm hugs and blessings of strength and comfort through this tough season!

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Lois Flowers April 17, 2024 - 5:08 pm

Oh, Trudy … thanks so much for remembering! Yes, my mom passed away five years ago this coming Friday. Seems like so long ago in some ways and just yesterday in other ways. I hope you and Len are doing well … love and hugs to you!

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Ashley Rowland | HISsparrowBlog April 16, 2024 - 9:43 am

Wonderful post, Lois! What a blessing sweet friends are.

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Lois Flowers April 17, 2024 - 5:05 pm

I agree 100 percent, Ashley! 🙂

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Lisa Brittain April 16, 2024 - 8:55 am

Lois,
This is beautiful. Hospitality is the perfect word for all that you have described here. Thank you for sharing your story.
I have been honored with the opportunity to share the grieving journey with some new, and some old friends, who are now living the grief of Parkinson’s with their spouse.

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Lois Flowers April 17, 2024 - 5:04 pm

Thank you for your kind words, Lisa. I wish that Parkinson’s was not part of your story, or your friends’ stories, but what a blessing that you can now comfort them with the comfort you have experienced along the way.

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