Writing is cathartic for me, and I used to post on this little blog all the time in college.
Since July, I've been dedicated to quiet time with the Lord each day, and as much peace as it's given me, it's also made me realize that I still have so much to walk through. As I grow closer to Jesus and He reveals more parts of His heart to me, I find myself asking how I can serve. Brian and I do not yet have the means to give financially the way we'd like to, so I've been praying about how to serve and bless others, and I feel that gentle whisper continue to say "use your words." If you're a Christ follower, then you know what I'm about to talk about next - doubt.
The moment you decide to obey, you're met with voices trying to talk you out of whatever it is you decided to do:
- This is dumb.
- No one will read it.
- No one cares.
- Who writes blog posts anymore?
- You started this when you were 19, it's time to move on to bigger and better things.
But I cannot ignore this anymore, and as our pastor likes to remind us constantly, if even one person comes to know the Lord and His Word, then all of heaven rejoices. My biggest prayer is that this resonates with at least one person.
As believers, I think we often shy away from the ugliness of grief. So much of the Christian faith is just that- having faith. Faith that God is in control. Faith that God is working all things out for our good. It's about peace that surpasses all understanding. But we often fail to talk about how much grief hurts. Grief is not a paper cut sized pain; it is a knees-buckling-I-can-hardly-breathe kind of pain.
You can grieve a phase of life, grieve what could have been, and grieve a loved one who has died. For me, it's the latter.
I thought things were tough when I was planning a wedding and was hit with the realization that my dad wouldn't be there. This past September marked 21 years since my dad died, and to be honest, I haven't really been OK since. I'm in a season of grief that I haven't experienced in quite some time, and it hit me out of left field. You see, grief doesn't care how well things are going. Grief doesn't care how happy you should be. I think a lot of it is because I'm in a transitional phase of life in that I'm adjusting to what it means to be part of a "we" and not just "me" in a marriage. And anyone who has gone through this newlywed season knows it comes with its own joys and challenges. I just didn't think grieving my dad would be one of them.
Grief has many forms, both as an emotion and how people act while grieving.
Grief can be angry.
Grief can be sad.
Grief can be harsh.
Grief can be cruel.
Grief can be cruel.
Grief can be insensitive.
Grief can be "too sensitive."
Grief can be laughter.
Grief can be numbing.
Grief can be wanting to stay in bed all day.
Grief can be lonely.
Yes, we're supposed to find joy in all circumstances, but there are some things you just don't want to find joy in. Sometimes you need to sit in whatever form grief has taken that day and just let it be because that last form of grief- the loneliness- it's the worst form of grief. Unless you've grieved the loss of someone very close to you, you tend to not understand it. (And boy, are those of us grieving 1. Jealous of you, and 2. So grateful that you do not experience this pain.) People who haven't walked through this emotion often tell you to "Get over it," or remind you that its been ___ number of years and you should have moved on by now. But here's the thing . . . you don't move on from grief. You can deny it. You can sweep it under the rug to deal with later, but grief is always with you, and the more you brush it off, the more likely it is appear in bigger ways.
After a certain amount of time since someone has died, you may feel like you can't talk about that person anymore because you don't want people to get sick of you grieving and being sad all the time. You don't want to be "the sad friend" or bring the group down, but that is completely the enemy whispering lies in order to isolate you. There's that loneliness again, rearing its ugly head. When we are isolated and lonely, we are vulnerable, and that is exactly where the enemy wants us.
I don't really know why I'm stuck in this season of grieving. Perhaps it's coming to the realization that the man I've chosen to spend the rest of my life with will never know my dad, and it some small way it feels like he won't ever know all of me because he doesn't know half of me. The comforting answer is that Brian does know my dad in our family's weird sayings, in my love for reading, in bits and pieces of my mom and sisters' personalities, but that doesn't bring me much comfort right now.
Right now, I'm not so OK, and that's OK. This season will pass eventually, and I know that. Right now, I choose to sit in it.
I am still committed to my quiet time, and I will continue to seek Him and pray through this season, but God created us to be humans with emotions, so I know He's OK with me sitting in this season as long as I continue to seek Him.
Sitting in grief does not mean that I wallow constantly. What it does mean is that if I hear, see, or smell something that reminds me of my dad, I will allow myself to be sad if sadness crops up. I will allow myself to be angry that he isn't here. I will allow myself to question why things happened this way.
For those of you grieving, please know you're not alone. Grief is cyclical; it comes and goes. Please know you're being prayed for, and you have a God who wants to hear your heart. As much as you are allowed to sit in the grief, confide in Him because He finds joy in building a relationship with you.
If you need a friend, I would be honored to be that friend to pray specifically for you or to listen to you.
Smile, God loves you!
