Re-membering

Post Author: Michelle Bodle

“What or who are your grieving and how has it affected you?” The questions echoed through the gathering space at the university I was invited to volunteer as a chaplain. 

What came next poured out of me from a place in my own grief journey and were words that I couldn’t have planned.

“I don’t know what drew you here today. Maybe you are grieving a particular person that you lost over the course of the semester, or something over this school year has made you remember a loss in your life in a particular way. Maybe you are both excited about what comes next – moving to Main Campus, graduating, leaving to get a job – but at the same time, there’s a pit in your stomach that you can’t shake. I’m so thankful to Sue and her office for making space for us to name all of that today.

Because of the hedge of silence around grief, we can end up thinking that there’s only one type of loss that leads to grief – but the reality is that there are many, many things that can lead us to grieve – and when we aren’t present to that, we don’t honor it.

Here’s the secret that no one tells you – there’s no timeline on grief and no two people experience grief in the exact same way, even for the same loss. Why? Because grief is what happens inside of us, and mourning is how we express all of that on the outside.”

In some ways, I was navigating my own grief of finding my identity as a volunteer chaplain in this place. As campus ministers from various denominations and religions gathered in a conference room one rainy fall day, we went around the table to share plans for the coming school year. One by one, people shared about weekly Bible Studies, meals off-campus, and spring break trips. When it was my turn, I said, “I’m Michelle, and I’m here to get to know students and build relationships. That’s all I know today.” Twenty eyes darted up from their computer screens, or at least so it felt, to judge me and my seeming lack of plans. 

A lack of planned activity was a constant throughout the academic year. Instead of holding Bible Studies, I would go up on campus to sit in the student union and be present. What slowly emerged was a trust building both between the students and me and the faculty. By the spring semester, overwhelmed staff were answering my question of “How can I be helpful to you?” with ideas about connecting the community and the campus and desires to lead a student grief group.

The culmination of the first year in campus ministry at this University came at the end of the Spring semester when Sue asked me to come and speak to students at a special event about grief, where the above words were proclaimed. As she laid out the emerging vision, my heart sang. It would be a time to grieve a student who has passed during the year. It would also be a time to grieve what is often unspoken – transitions away from campus, graduation, and that which students had been carrying with them all semester. 

On the evening of remembrance, we came together: to share a meal and make luminaries, to watch a slideshow and to grieve, to speak our griefs out into the open. And we came together to answer the questions: Why did you come today? What are your grieving and how has it effected you? How are some of your past griefs connected to you are experiencing today? 

The body of Christ is funny – yearning to break forth out of the Church walls. It is unrestricted by our plans (or lack thereof) about what ministry should look like. Instead, it meets people right where they are at. It was a time to remember my call that extends beyond the congregation that pays me into the wider community.

At the end of the evening, we left with these words “let us tend to our grief today. Through art and community. Through words, spoken and contemplated. Remember that this, like any journey, is ongoing – and you are not alone on it.” Many of the people gathered for the time of remembrance jokingly said that they were there because of a person who invited them. I, too, was there on this campus, for this moment, because of my relationship with a person who invited me into this sacred space of ministry, that connected me to a community that I would otherwise not be a part of. Relationships are the bedrock of ministry and the very heart of the body of Christ.