The Jar and the Season it Holds

Three jars and three golf balls helped me visualize something I’d felt but didn’t quite understand. Dr. Caroline Leaf, a neuroscientist and neuropsychologist, explained that grief is like the ball in each of the jars.

At first, the ball takes up almost all the space in the small jar—as does our grief when we lose someone, or we face a devastating loss. It nearly fills us with its ever-present feelings. We shed tears that come without warning, or we often cannot think of anything besides the one who is no longer here.


With time, grief takes up less space—it’s still there. In fact, as Dr. Leaf explained, it hasn’t changed—it’s us who have changed. We’ve grown around it—it takes up less room in our souls.


The ball in the largest jar is the same grief—but taking a fraction of the space. It can still be felt—ask anyone who has lost a child, a spouse, or someone so loved that life is never the same. 


Life isn’t the same. The golf ball-sized grief remains the rest of our days. Grief doesn’t get smaller; we just get bigger.



In this season of celebration, I have a friend who just lost her husband of nearly 41 years. Cancer came quickly and didn’t even give them one final Christmas or wedding anniversary. Her jar is full.


Another friend recently lost his spouse—a different, but devastating disease, and just as heartbreaking—his jar is full.


Live long enough and you’ve gotten a golf ball of grief. It is there and sometimes a season like Christmas will remind you of the one who no longer shares it with you. 


It’s a season when offering our extra kindness, love, and peace can truly make a difference for those who only have memories. Their jar may be feeling very full.


I decided to put a new decoration on my tree—a small jar with a golf ball. It’s a reminder to pray for the hurting hearts this season.





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