Good Grief?

The movie “Twister” is a quasi-sci-fi-action-adventure movie of the 1980’s starring Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton. I often watch “at movies” years after their release. I view them in bits and pieces as they are shown for a season on channels like TBS or FX. This is the scenario I recall seeing the final action scene of “Twister”.

I’ll issue a “spoiler” alert. I’m going to speak to the final scene of this movie. If you have plans to watch it you may want to turn away from my short narrative.

The culminating scene of “Twister” has the two main characters, an estranged husband and wife storm chasing duo, taking their last chance to “fly” a homemade data gathering weather instrument into the mother of all tornadoes. Since this was the final action scene they succeeded.

Understandably the climate-curious duo is not going to win and walk. On cue the tornado literally turns and chases them. As if angered, the tornado grows larger and more menacing. The hero pair do everything they can to save themselves. As the monster closes in, the pair grab heavy canvas strapping and tether themselves to the head of a deeply drilled water well.

In fine action-escapist form, the exact moment they are secure, they are consumed by the monster tornado. Instead of being “sucked up” into the tornado to meet their demise, they begin to float. They levitate in the core of the beastly storm all while tethered to their secure grounding.

I’ll not trace the plot, but for Helen Hunt’s character this deadly experience becomes a momentous occasion. She looks down the throat of her lifelong nemeses and admires the wonder of it, if only for a moment..

This scene has these two characters in the most violent, destructive and deadly situation they could possibly find themselves. Yet they are able to find a reverent, respectful awe and wonder for that which would surely kill them.

I have several books on the subject of grief. In reading about and talking with others about grief I have arrived at a couple of absolutes. Absolute is a strong word and it becomes stronger when it is attached to grief. If I am claiming certainties I guess I better be certain, right?

What is certain about grief? First of all, grief is certain. The death of those we love is not the only thing that pushes us into a journey through grief. Death is likely the most profound cause of grief but it is not the only culprit. Significant losses of any kind cause grief and no one is immune from loss. Therefore, grief is certain and certain for all.

What is the second certainty? It would be that no two people journey through grief on the same exact path. Grief seems to be as unique as the individual who is grieving. There are identifiable similarities on individual journeys, but there is no standardized grief. Individuals are not required to experience each similarity. It is certain that grief is an individual journey.

In these short paragraphs I have spoken to two diverse and unattached subjects. What might “tie” the two together? The writings of C.S. Lewis might be a place to consider. If you are unfamiliar with C.S. Lewis his work would be highly recommended. He was a brilliant person. Moreover, he was strong in Christian faith. His ethics an theology are deep and profound.

C.S. Lewis married late in life. After only a few short years of marriage his wife contracted an illness and subsequently died. In the weeks and months following her death C.S. Lewis kept a journal of his journey through grief. “A Grief Observed” is an account of his journey.

In “A Grief Observed” Lewis bares his heart and shares the raw emotions that accompanied his grief. The struggle with his faith escalated to the point of crisis. He was a believer living through the tumultuous winds of loss and grief.

Like the characters in “Twister” C.S. Lewis was pursued by a storm that might subsequently destroy him. Yet, like the characters in the movie, he was grounded by being attached to strength and security.

Faith in Jesus Christ did not deflect the storm that turned and pursued C.S. Lewis. In the midst of the storm he was not immune to the ravages and dangers inherent in the storm. He was tossed and “flown” by the violent event that surrounded him. His emotions responded to the destruction. Yet, as C.S. Lewis was “bound to Christ eternally by loves strong cord” he was able to stare down the throat of destruction and find a reverence in its passage.

Oh...may I learn to live DAILY in the assurance of the flawless, never failing bonds of Christ.

Till the storm passes over

Till the thunder sounds no more

Till the clouds roll forever from the sky

Hold me fast, let me stand

In the hollow of Thy hand

Keep me safe till the storm passes by

One Word...

PACHINKO......

Summer Camp

During my “growing up years” my family camped. Ooooohhhhh the memories. We camped by lakes and rivers. We camped in the heat and humidity. We camped in endless rain and even in tornadoes. We were intrepid.

Once we were camping at Okatibbee Reservoir north of my hometown of Meridian, MS. One late night our camping neighbors had enough time to properly ferment themselves in the grain beverage of their choice. Thus began the memory.

On this night a couple of the fermented neighbors ventured into the water for a late night swim. The water and the grain beverage mixed and caused a chemical reaction. It caused them both to turn into Jerry Clower.

The Jerry Clowers thrashed about in the water. One would bellow “knock ‘em out John”. The other would respond “awwwwww, shoot this thang”. They would both slur “shoot up here amongst us, one of us has got to have some relief”. It seemed to them to be just as funny the 214th time as it was the first. It was surreal.

I also remember being led to that most sacred of childhood deceptions.....SNIPE HUNTING. Yes, I was taken Snipe Hunting. I was lead by my “deceptors”, paper sack in hand, down the dark wooded trail to the place where I would be assured to capture that elusive creature.

I had convinced myself it was authentic because I had looked up the word Snipe in the dictionary. My “deceptors” had described the Snipe to a tee. I then discovered Websters definition matched their description and I was all over it. It was all the authentication this young woodsman needed.

I devotedly planted myself along the path facing the edge of the woods, knelt on the ground with paper sack open in front of me and began the mating call...”bbbbwwwwwwuuuuuuurrrrrrrpppppp” ”bbbbwwwwwwuuuuuuurrrrrrrpppppp” ”bbbbwwwwwwuuuuuuurrrrrrrpppppp” ”bbbbwwwwwwuuuuuuurrrrrrrpppppp”. I ultimately returned to camp.

I share the Snipe Hunting story to help others. If you are ever asked, be leery of this unlikely activity....