John 12:20-26
If it dies, it bears much fruit.
If we let it go, it lives.
Let it fall.
These words took my breath away last spring. My friend Kimberly sang them, over a quiet chapel. About a dozen people gathered, mostly women and just a couple of men. We gathered there for a “Hannah Service.”
Our church hosted this unique space for worship and reflection for people who grieved around Mother’s Day. People who had experienced infertility, miscarriage, or adoption loss, and people who experienced the loss of a child or parent were invited. The whole idea was to offer sacred space to grieve.
As we planned this service, we were unsure who would attend. My friend Rachel and I had both experienced grief. Between the two of us, we knew the sorrow of infertility, miscarriage and loss. We also knew that church is sometimes the last place we give ourselves permission to feel. We planned the service knowing what a healing thing it is to bring real feelings into sacred space.
We were almost surprised when people showed up. Many were people we had not met before. A few shared that they were in the middle of infertility treatments. Some were silent. One woman explained to me that her young child died last year. “I can’t go to church anymore, she said. But I thought I could come to this.”
We spoke about anger, fear, and sorrow. We sang. As an act of remembrance, we planted small bulbs into little planters. Through tears, we dug into the dirt. We listened to Kimberly sing:
“Have you been trying too hard
Have you been holding too tight
Have you been worrying too much lately, all night
Whatever we’ve lost
I think we’re gonna let it go
Let it fall
Like snow
‘Cause rain and leaves
And snow and tears and stars
And that’s not all my friend
They all fall with confidence and grace
So let it fall, let it fall”
There are no perfect words for grief. One phrase we rested on was “let it fall.” We were not at all asking folks to let go of their sorrow or worry. That is just not what we need to do. But saying we could let the barriers fall was permission enough for some of us to do the crying we needed to do.
Letting it fall is risky.
It often feels, to me, like failure or faithlessness or hopelessness. Raindrops and leaves and snowflakes and tears. They fall because they need to.
They fall because that’s what they do. Turns out, life happens in the falling.
“Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
CREATIVE PRACTICE
Listen to the song “Let It Fall” by Over The Rhine. Think about the images of rain, leaves, snow and tears. Light a candle and remember a moment when letting something “fall” has made a difference for you. Remember a moment when you resisted letting go. Use the phrase “let it fall” for quiet meditation.
