The memorial service isn’t the place to terminate ministry; it’s the place to begin a different but no less important one.
—Kevin E. Ruffcorn
Things are going pretty well, I thought as I hung my alb and stole in the closet. I had just completed the funeral for Stan Conners, the second funeral in the congregation to which I had recently moved. As I adjusted my collar and slipped into my sport coat, I ran through a mental check list: The soloist sang well; I felt good about my sermon; and the family was pleased with the service. I had accomplished my goal of providing spiritual comfort.
A comment two days later forced me to question that assumption.
I stopped by the house of a young widow. Three years earlier this woman’s husband had died of a sudden heart attack. She shared her memories: finding her husband slumped over the wheel of the car in the garage, telling her school-age children their father was dead, beginning the struggle as a single parent.
She observed, “The pastor and the church didn’t minister to my greatest needs. Oh, the pastor saw me right after the death, and he met with me before the service. He said a few words at the funeral. But I never saw him again in regard to my husband’s death. After the first week, no one from the congregation visited with us concerning our grief. My real struggles with my husband’s death didn’t begin until two weeks after the funeral, and by then, everyone was out of sight.”
We parish pastors usually have a significant pre-death ministry with families. In a majority of situations, death stalks its victim slowly, allowing us to walk with the family through the valley of the shadow of death. Our ministry is important and welcomed.
Other times, death pounces without warning: the sudden, massive heart attack, the middle-of-the-night fatal accident. In these situations we provide emergency spiritual care, visiting with the family several times, sometimes for hours. Then we bow out with the funeral service.
But in either case, the memorial service, I began to understand, wasn’t the place to terminate ministry. It was the place to begin a different but no less important one.
In an effort to minister more effectively to the families of Grace Lutheran Church, we created a program of grief aftercare. I’ve found it has helped people deal with their grief in a fuller and healthier way.
Early Aftercare
Grief aftercare begins before the funeral service, when I tell the family it will take perhaps a year or longer to work through their grief. Occasionally family members say, “As soon as this funeral is over, we can put our lives back in order” or “Just a few more hours, and we can get on with life.” I serve as a gentle reminder that death affects us longer than for a few short days.
Most people don’t understand grief. They believe things will be back to normal in a month or two. Anything longer indicates they aren’t handling the death very well, they aren’t “good, strong Christians.” Thus, breaking down in tears in the grocery store after hearing a song that reminds them of their loved one confuses and embarrasses them. To let people know such occurrences are normal may not take away the embarrassment, but it does help them realize they aren’t going crazy or losing their faith. They are simply human.
The second step is a series of phone calls and visits. A week after the funeral, I usually visit the family. The extended family members usually have returned to their homes and jobs, and friends and neighbors have turned their attention back to their own struggles. The rush of funeral preparations is over, life is quiet, and the family is alone.
Often this is when the reality of their loss hits them. My visit provides the family with an opportunity to express new grief questions or to rehash the old ones.
Many times I hear expressions of loneliness. Mary talked about the unbearable evenings without her husband. Tom lamented the need to make his own supper and how lonely it is at the kitchen table without his wife. Young David mentioned how empty and frightening the house is when he comes home and his mom is not there to meet him. My visits don’t take away the loneliness or fear, but they do allow the family to share their grief and to realize someone understands.
Occasionally, I hear soft voices of denial. Donna confessed that she regularly imagined her husband walking through the kitchen door and greeting her with a kiss, just as he always had done. “It seems,” she said, “that he’s only away on a long trip.” Jerry caught himself waiting by the phone for his wife to call from the hospital and ask him to come and take her home. Such struggles are normal to the grieving and not a sign they are going crazy; affirming this comforts the bereaved.
My visit reminds the family that grief does not end at the funeral. Yes, they must get on with life, but they also need to bear the wounds of grief and to allow time for these wounds to heal.
Extended Aftercare
I make a second visit or phone call about three weeks later. One of the main purposes is to assure the family they have not been forgotten. They are still in my thoughts and prayers and also those of the congregation. Another purpose of this visit is to stress that I am available.
Often this is the watershed visit. I’m not sure why. Perhaps after several visits the family members finally believe I’m truly interested in them, rather than in simply doing my “professional pastor thing.”
Maybe it takes several weeks and visits for the family members to allow me to walk with them in the depths of their grief. It’s one thing to shake hands on Sunday morning or work together on a committee. It’s altogether different to trust someone—even a pastor—to come close when one is weak with grief.
Or perhaps three weeks after the loss is simply the point at which people begin to deal with the deeper issues. People hit me with theological questions: “Where is God in the death of my loved one?” “Did God cause this death, did God allow it, or did he have no control over it?” “I’m afraid I’m losing my faith. How do I hang on?” “I’m not sure I believe in life after death. Is there some way I can be sure?”
Anger toward God may boil over: “Why would God allow this to happen?” “What kind of a loving God would do this to us?”
Often people express this God-directed anger in indirect ways. I visited Linda a few weeks after the death of her father. Linda appeared to be handling her grief well, but during our conversation, she mentioned in an offhanded way that she was having difficulty praying. Later she expressed anger that her father had to suffer so much before his death. “How could that be fair?” she pleaded. As Linda spoke, she discovered she blamed God for making her father suffer, and her unvoiced anger toward God affected her prayer life. My pastoral visit defused a potentially harmful situation.
Some families don’t seem to need much pastoral care. The family is close and they minister effectively to each other. These families, I’ve found, still appreciate a pastoral visit. Some use this visit to share memories. Other families express thanks to God for the blessing of their relationship with the deceased. Still others assure me that though struggles remain, they are picking up the pieces of their lives.
I usually try to make a third visit about three or four months after the funeral. By this time any significant difficulties in the grief process are apparent. I encourage the individual to seek additional professional help if symptoms include chronic depression, suicidal tendencies, or eating or sleeping disorders. At other times, the spiritual perspective is all that is needed.
David’s fiancée was killed in a freak car accident two months prior to their wedding date. At first David felt intense anger. The anger turned into depression, with which David struggled for months. I suggested that he see a professional counselor, but David opted for a series of pastoral visits.
During one visit, David stated he never would be able to love a person again because of his fear of being hurt by loss. Gradually, he became more and more of a loner. After many hours of conversation, though, he began to see the consequences of his fear. Now he’s cautiously stepping toward love again. Grief aftercare helped him deal with his fear before it set into pathology.
One might get the impression I do nothing but visit the grieving. I admit that I consider pastoral visitation important. But I’m able to find time for only ten to fifteen visits a week. So I make my visits to grieving families part of my regular pastoral visitation. Shortly after a funeral, I jot notes on my calendar—one week, three weeks, and three months ahead. When the week arrives, I include the family in that week’s visitation.
Following the funeral, the church secretary or I also mark birthday and anniversary dates with a reminder to call the family. Since special occasions compound grief, a call from the pastor then, no matter how short, conveys the comforting message that someone understands. Around Thanksgiving and Christmas also, I call the families of those who died during the year.
Expanded Aftercare
Ministry to grieving families doesn’t fall solely upon my shoulders. A few weeks after the funeral, I contact someone who has gone through similar circumstances and ask that member to visit the family. Having endured a similar situation, the visitor usually understands acutely which words hurt and which heal.
This part of our program is in its infancy. We are, though, beginning to offer a six-week series on grief, active and reflective listening, and a theological understanding of suffering.
Here is what I expect of the visitors:
1. A one-year commitment. I suggest visits at least every four to six weeks during the year. (I first ask the grieving family for permission to have a member visit them. I point out that these visits would be opportunities to share their struggles.)
2. Friendship and concern. I stress the purpose of their visits is simply to be available as someone friendly to talk to. Discussion about the struggles of grief need not be the topic of every visit, but it should be legitimate at any time.
3. Reports of problems or needs. I ask the visitors to contact me if they have questions about topics raised or concerns about the manner in which the bereaved are handling their grief.
Though just beginning, this program is having an effect. Recently the husband of an eighty-year-old woman died. The couple had been married fifty-five years, during which time the husband had taken care of their financial matters. After her husband’s death, the woman was overwhelmed with financial decisions and paper work.
The member I asked to visit this woman was also an elderly widow. Through this woman’s intervention, the new widow was given training in budgeting and bookkeeping by members of a retired-citizens organization. Since the visitor had gone through a similar situation, she could assure her charge that God does help and that with God’s strength she would be able to carry on.
Ever After Care
Lives being touched by the love and power of the gospel of Jesus Christ—this is what ministry is about.
Just the other day I received a letter from a member who’d lost her husband over a year ago. My day had not gone well. A Bible study had fallen flat, two committees were exhibiting their independence, and some people had telephoned with what I considered nit-picky criticisms of one of my pet projects. I was beginning to wonder if ministry ever gets done right.
Then I tore open the letter and began to read:
Dear Pastor,
Words cannot express my appreciation for your visits. Your presence helped me go through the most difficult struggle I have ever experienced in my life, the death of my husband.…
This letter reminded me that ministry takes place whenever love is expressed and the effort is made to share the power of the gospel. Then God draws alongside with care that lasts forever.
Copyright © 1997
