She had gathered with some deep friends from their Grief Journey Group. The time together was precious beyond words. The following morning, one friend, whose husband transitioned 21 years ago, shared this poem with the group:
The Medicine of Surrender
More than self-blessing, I ask for
self-surrender, to blossom as generously
as the echinacea, only to invite every
goldfinch to sweep in and pinch what’s left,
seed by seed, until nothing remains
but a shriveled husk. Maybe surrender is
its own kind of blessing, and we meet
the sacred each day by remembering that
other delicious word for the holy—numinous,
which finds its origins in the simple act
of nodding the head yes, agreeing to all
life brings us, even when we say, This
should not be happening, even when we ask,
Why me? at last nodding our acceptance
of who we’ve become, leaving the window
partway open for every strange angel
who swoops down to enter.
~ James Crews
The Medicine of Surrender
Saying Yes to the Numinous
Oct 23, 2026
She wrote back to that friend, “I have chills reading this, and I know I need to pass it along to some friends that I meditate with early Tuesday morning. Such relevant times we have…. this baby-boomer age that has shaped the world and now shapes the after-world as we allow our hearts to override what our minds have thought about alive and dead, here and gone.”
Sending “The Medicine of Surrender” along to another precious friend, she received back a brief but poignant text:
Wow
You’ve done it again
My word for the week is surrender
This friend’s message was closed with a praying hands emoji.
She snapped this photo of the top shelf of her altar and sent that as her reply:
Screenshot
