I’m sitting in my office, looking out the window. The sun hasn’t come up yet and I see dark clouds moving rapidly across the sky. There’s wind up there, but here at ground level, it is fairly still.

We are entering a new season–Autumn. I love autumn. It means brilliant colors. Cooler weather. Harvest. The muted colors of summer are changing into bright colors of red, orange and yellow. In the PNW, the weather is best. Most days, the sky is a brilliant blue, bright sunshine, and mild temperatures. Warm enough to go without a jacket.

Much as I love Autumn, I’m sad today. You see, as everything outdoors are dying, I’ve experienced loss this past week. My brother–my only brother–has died. Just as plants are dying–flowers are getting tired looking, leaves are falling from the trees, my heart is heavy with loss.

It is strange, the numbness I feel. I work with those who grieve, but today I am the griever. I feel detached, unable to do very much. I understand that is grief. I’ve been there before. I have moments of shocked denial and sadness. Moments of hope and peace and sometimes, I feel even a little crazy.

Grief is hard work. Your mind and body sag with the weight. Yet, the only cure for grief is to grieve. Yet, as I walk through this grief, I know I am not alone. There is pain in the loss, I am reminded by words from the Bible, my source of strength in joy or sorrow: But God, who comforts the downcast (2 Corinthians 7:6a NIV); Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4; Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust” (Psalm 91:1-2).

I know by experience God will not leave me comfortless. I know I will be comforted. That is why I am telling you about my grief today. I’ll write more about my brother another time. Today, though, I will grieve because a person who has been in my memory as long as I’ve been alive, is gone now.

Sometimes, death brings people to faith–or interest in studying more about God. That happened to Dietrich Bonhoffer, after his older brother died in World War I. Bonhoffer, although a prodigous pianist, decided to become a theologian and minister. It is his prayer that gives me comfort and if you are grieving, I hope it brings comfort to you:

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.

Help me to pray

And to concentrate my thoughts on you:

I cannot do this alone,

In me there is darkness,

But with you there is light;

I am lonely, but you do not leave me;

I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;

I am restless, but with you there is peace. (Dietrich Bonhoffer, 1906-1945)

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My brother, Roger,  loved jazz. Here’s one of my favorites–and I think it was one of his, too.