What’s on my mind today is how surprise can lurk in the language we use to tell stories, how unexamined words and phrases can shape what we say or write in ways we aren’t aware of.
Leonard Cohen, in his litany “Who by Fire,” put it as “who by his own hand.” David, your choice of words—empathetically acknowledging the silent tragedies of people who struggled with mental health or unbearable situations—is more merciful and therefore more Christian than that of those nuns who didn’t know what they were talking about. Btw, in the Bible, there are several nonjudgmental descriptions of suicides, and moreover: "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (Romans 10:13, NIV).
Thank you for writing this. My step son died of suicide—did I say that right. He was so tormented by life—I thought of him then as now as alone and without anyone to help him. I still hug him before bed.
How enlightened I now feel. Yes, unexamined words and phrases can surprise us. You beautifully elaborate on your opening paragraph and I am certain I will never use that phrase again.
Just discovered that what I thought was a reply to you was a free-floating comment that makes no sense out of contest. Deleted it. Thanks for reading and commenting. It's great to encounter you in the virtual world . . .
Leonard Cohen, in his litany “Who by Fire,” put it as “who by his own hand.” David, your choice of words—empathetically acknowledging the silent tragedies of people who struggled with mental health or unbearable situations—is more merciful and therefore more Christian than that of those nuns who didn’t know what they were talking about. Btw, in the Bible, there are several nonjudgmental descriptions of suicides, and moreover: "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (Romans 10:13, NIV).
Thanks for your kind and thoughtful comments.
Thank you for writing this. My step son died of suicide—did I say that right. He was so tormented by life—I thought of him then as now as alone and without anyone to help him. I still hug him before bed.
My grandfather was gone seven years before I was born. He feels both distant and close to me. My heart breaks for him in his last hours.
How enlightened I now feel. Yes, unexamined words and phrases can surprise us. You beautifully elaborate on your opening paragraph and I am certain I will never use that phrase again.
Just discovered that what I thought was a reply to you was a free-floating comment that makes no sense out of contest. Deleted it. Thanks for reading and commenting. It's great to encounter you in the virtual world . . .