Grieving in three languages
“The moon was getting low and thin clouds were passing across her, but still they could see the shape of the Lion lying dead in his bonds. And down they both knelt in the wet grass and kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful fur — what was left of it — and cried till they could cry no more. And then they looked at each other and held each other’s hands for mere loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent.”
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
Last week, I participated with some fellow workers here in their spiritual retreat. I taught the children during their sessions and ended up reading them this book – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. The story is like a good cup of coffee, warm and sweet, a reminder of my childhood. My father always did the voices just right. As the children clamored for me to read just one more chapter, I enjoyed experiencing it again through new pairs of eyes.
God continues to place me in worldly brokenness, using His spirit to comfort them as I walk alongside them. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak... Friday morning seemed like any other day here but soon changed when I heard voices outside my room. Someone mentioned needing a stretcher to carry someone who had hiked early that morning. I shuffled on my day clothes to the sound of someone knocking on my door. It was the children and their mom.
"Ruby, I need you to be with them right now and take care of breakfast. I need to go help my friend who has fallen with several injuries."
"Of course - whatever you need" was my reply. We still needed to finish our story.
We went and did normal things like eat breakfast and come back to hear what happened to the four children in Narnia. After I read the scene above, we got a message that the lady injured had died once at the hospital. The message was from their mother saying to wait for her so she could inform the children herself. The person had been a deep friend and like an aunt to this family. I looked up to her and felt privileged to call her my friend too. I didn’t want to leave the children in the death of Aslan as we waited for their mom to come and explain what had happened. I wanted to lead them to the resurrection.
“Then at last, as they stood for a moment looking out towards the sea … the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met and very slowly up came the edge of the sun. At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise — a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant’s plate.
....
“Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it magic?”
“Yes!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more magic.”
They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.
“Oh, Aslan!” cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.”
As I read this, the relief of the children’s faces was palatable. Aslan was alive and well! Victory was his! I prayed it prepared their hearts as they received the news that their Aunt Carina had gone to be with Jesus. She was even now praising Him in heaven – free from pain and sorrow. Victory in the Cross!
You may be wondering about my title and how it fits in with what I have just described. To put it simply, most of my daily activities revolve around three languages: English, French and Bambara. So it seemed only natural to process this grief in all three.
English
After sharing and comforting the children, my friend and I had a chance to cling to one another and cry. I had no words as my mind whirled in total confusion. I had not been there for the fatal accident early morning Friday. But I jumped at the chance to love my friend by caring for her children. My fellow TCKs (third-culture kids) … how I wish I could remove the numbness of loss.
Zoom call with my counselor from my organization… reliving the day in a safe space… a space open to healing and understanding. One thing I have learned living and working overseas: Member care is not just helpful but a necessity for the sustainability of the workers in country. Member care is a must. A team of qualified individuals to help us process trauma and point us to the Cross.
French
Worshiping in French as I packed my belongings from the retreat as we prepared to leave… without her. Speaker blaring as my heart wrenched... for now, I could grieve myself… My French-speaking neighbors and ministry partners had so many questions… how did it happen? How far did she fall? Had she been alive in the ambulance, in the hospital? What is going to happen now? It was cathartic to switch to this language as I retold again the story and how we would be celebrating her on Tuesday at her church. Culte mardi matin à 10h00 – une célébration de sa vie en Christ… Calling my language partner and hearing her say she wanted to immediately come and visit me. Grieving again in French as I spoke with a friend at her church who helped me write the Blessing song in Bambara. How Carina had loved that song… How I want to sing it at her celebration of life service. Moving through the details of the service in all three languages.
Bambara
I stumbled through the story in this language but as always, my student was even patient with me. “How do I say ‘hill’ again?” raced my brain. Which hill was it again? This language fits grief into its patterns of blessings and comfort. We say to one another: “Ala ka i dusu salo.” “May God comfort your heart.” There is such a big hole in the community with her gone… her name was Joy in Bambara (Nygali) and boy, did she exude with it here on earth! Ala ka ne dusu salo – May God comfort my heart… As I listened to her obituary in both English and Bambara during the service, I got another glimpse of her impact here in Mali. (As well as some new Bambara vocabulary words concerning grief!) She loved serving Him here for over 15 years. Well done good and faithful servant!
It was such a sweet experience to grieve in these three languages with my international and local friends. I felt a deep calling from God again in how he will continue to use me in spaces of trauma and healing. I am not alone. I am surrounding by people who care for me in English, French and Bambara. Carina - I will miss you... I can't wait to worship with you in heaven.
(Carina is the lady on the far right)