“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
Hannah of the Old Testament demonstrated the power of grief to motivate in positive ways. For years Hannah was unable to have children, a condition that caused her deep heartache. As her grief overwhelmed her, she knelt near the temple and prayed fervently for a child. She explained to the priest Eli that she was “of a sorrowful spirit” and that she was praying “out of the abundance of [her] complaint and grief” (1 Samuel 1:15–16). In time, the Lord answered her prayer by giving her a son, Samuel, who became a great prophet and leader.
Hannah’s grief over her childlessness led her to pray, which in turn led to an answer to her prayer. If Hannah had not felt grief, she might not have offered that important prayer.
“There is enough heartache and sorrow in this life without our adding to it through our own stubbornness, bitterness, and resentment. … We must let go of our grievances. … That is the Lord’s way.”
| “The Merciful Obtain Mercy,” 76–77
Many are praying to Heavenly Father for relief, for help in carrying their burdens of grief, loneliness, and fear. Heavenly Father hears those prayers and understands their needs. He and His Beloved Son, the resurrected Jesus Christ, have promised help.
“The Savior has said, ‘Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die’ (D&C 42:45). I have learned that grief is the price we pay for loving someone—and that the price is worth it. None of the people I have worked with said they would give up the love they had for a family member in order to avoid the grief that came from losing that family member. When loved ones pass from this side of the veil to the other, they continue to be just as important to us as when they were with us. Because we love them, we can’t really expect to completely ‘get over’ losing them.”
“Grief is the emotional, and often physical, response we have when we experience loss. The more profound the loss, the more profound the grief will be. Grief can involve virtually every emotion or can leave us feeling numb and disconnected from the world around us.
Manifestations of grief may include hopelessness, anxiety, anger, denial, guilt, incapacitating fatigue, difficulty in controlling emotions, lack of concentration, loss of interest in people or activities, and feelings of being overwhelmed.
As a result, some question their faith in Heavenly Father because the pain is so overwhelming. They find it difficult to recognize the help the Lord is extending. Reassuring is the promise from Isaiah: ‘Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows’ (Isaiah 53:4).”
“Grief hurts, but it can be the salve that helps us heal when it is allowed to do its work appropriately. The first step in handling grief is to recognize that the pain is a normal part of the process. It needs to be acknowledged, not avoided.”
“Being mistreated is the most important condition of mortality, for eternity itself depends on how we view those who mistreat us.”
| The Peacegiver: How Christ Offers to Heal Our Hearts and Homes
I was heartbroken. I grieved over my son’s condition and had to come to terms with the fact that he might never enjoy full health. I felt like I was drowning in sorrow—sorrow that felt inescapable because it went hand in hand with my love for my precious child.
At first, I felt that my grief meant I lacked faith. But with time, I understood that grief was a normal, healthy response to my son’s illness. In God’s plan for me, grief was a refining fire that transformed my love for others, my perspective on life’s challenges, and my faith in Heavenly Father.
Letting myself grieve taught me how to show Christlike compassion for and sensitivity to others. In my observation, grief can change our nature if we let it turn us to the Savior. I have seen grief transform strangers into loving sisters. Once when my son was hospitalized, I was in the room with him, crying. There was another family with their own sick child on the other side of the room. Eventually I heard the curtain between us drawn aside, and I looked up to see the mother approaching me. She had been a stranger until then—she was from a different country, spoke a different native language, and knew no details of my son’s condition. Wrapping her arms tightly around me while I cried, she said in her language, ‘It’s going to be OK. He’s going to be OK. He really is.’ That mother had surely experienced grief in her own life that had transformed her into a Christlike person who could wrap her arms around a grieving stranger.