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I once wrote a few years ago about how grief is language. A language of the heart that none of us desire to learn how to speak, yet many of us are forced into fluency through the course of our lives. Grief is a heavy thing, it makes those experiencing it feel alone and misunderstood.

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Yet just as a stranger in a foreign land heres a word spoken in their native tongue, so does someone who is experiencing grief recognize another who has as well. In a few weeks I have the honor to speak or act as a translator for the funeral of a young friend, to try to translate the grieving language of the heart into the spoken word. As always, words will fall short. I would appreciate your prayers. It is an honor to speak this language, yet it also resurfaces why you can speak it. I may not use this language as frequently these days, yet the fluency sits just under the surface. My prayer is that my limited fluency may help Christ to shepherd the hearts of those that are hurting, that this language may be a testimony of His presence in the feeling of His absence. Lord, we need you. Teach us how to live. Teach us how to love. Teach us how to hope. Help us to see that the language of grief is not a hopeless language, but a gift from you by which we may experience you more. A gift that reveals your heart for the loss of your children and the depths of love that you feel for us. Bless our broken attempts to speak it.

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britton sharp

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