Searching google for a Pentecost affirmation of faith to us in a contemporary liturgy, I came upon your offering, which I have used. Thank you.
Reading a few more of your posts and comments I came upon your sad experience of the love of your life. I’m so sorry. As you know so well, there are no words to make the grief less, nor to make the pain of loss go away.
I am an Anglican priest in Australia, in a beautiful rural diocese in Victoria, called Gippsland.
Like you, I have many dealings with the dying and the grieving ones. Mostly, I have no words either, though there are hugs and weeping together that happen naturally when I am moved by people’s grief.
Thank you for your raw honesty in sharing your own journey through deep grief. When there is a gap in your journalling I imagine your pain being too much to write about for public consumption. I may be wrong there.
Your writing has moved me deeply, even more so because I am waiting to have a mammogram and ultrasound for possible breast cancer, and until there are results, I cling to that promise of Jesus to be present in every moment, whatever the circumstances. I am now 72, and in my early 40’s faced a terminal illness then, which was a 6 year journey of illness. At that time, I received a healing at a healing service I went to, to pray for someone else. Because the disease was so far advanced, I have residual respiratory issues, but I have lived to watch my 2 daughters grow up and marry, and the births and young lives of my 2 granddaughters. Every day has been a gift.
It is still hard to be facing possible terminal illness yet again, but I have, so far, managed to give it up to God to deal with – mainly because IK don’t think I am up to dealing with it myself at this moment. Of course I am afraid. Life is sweet and depending on the outcome of the tests, I may find it impossible to be sanguine about the journey to come.
But reading about your journey, in its honesty, has helped me as I prepare to face what may come this week and beyond.
Thank you.
I truly hope and pray that in the midst of your pain you can feel God’s loving presence with you and within you, grieving your loss with you.
dreamprayact 
Searching google for a Pentecost affirmation of faith to us in a contemporary liturgy, I came upon your offering, which I have used. Thank you.
Reading a few more of your posts and comments I came upon your sad experience of the love of your life. I’m so sorry. As you know so well, there are no words to make the grief less, nor to make the pain of loss go away.
I am an Anglican priest in Australia, in a beautiful rural diocese in Victoria, called Gippsland.
Like you, I have many dealings with the dying and the grieving ones. Mostly, I have no words either, though there are hugs and weeping together that happen naturally when I am moved by people’s grief.
Thank you for your raw honesty in sharing your own journey through deep grief. When there is a gap in your journalling I imagine your pain being too much to write about for public consumption. I may be wrong there.
Your writing has moved me deeply, even more so because I am waiting to have a mammogram and ultrasound for possible breast cancer, and until there are results, I cling to that promise of Jesus to be present in every moment, whatever the circumstances. I am now 72, and in my early 40’s faced a terminal illness then, which was a 6 year journey of illness. At that time, I received a healing at a healing service I went to, to pray for someone else. Because the disease was so far advanced, I have residual respiratory issues, but I have lived to watch my 2 daughters grow up and marry, and the births and young lives of my 2 granddaughters. Every day has been a gift.
It is still hard to be facing possible terminal illness yet again, but I have, so far, managed to give it up to God to deal with – mainly because IK don’t think I am up to dealing with it myself at this moment. Of course I am afraid. Life is sweet and depending on the outcome of the tests, I may find it impossible to be sanguine about the journey to come.
But reading about your journey, in its honesty, has helped me as I prepare to face what may come this week and beyond.
Thank you.
I truly hope and pray that in the midst of your pain you can feel God’s loving presence with you and within you, grieving your loss with you.
You are in my thoughts and prayers,
Marilyn