Sitting in the Dark

I’m learning to sit quietly in the dark and breathe deeply. Sitting in the silence, the pain. Just sitting with it and allowing the feelings.

Sadness. Loss. So, so much. Loss of freedoms we took for granted, loss of idealism’s, loss of the way it had always been, loss of relationships we thought were invincible. Loss of security, and health, and people we love.

Moving our bodies, avoiding the sadness and thinking faster doesn’t make it better. We’re just avoiding the inevitable.

The vulnerability, tears, and grief that sit in the core of our souls.

I can feel it physically, deep in my center. It effects my breath which I find myself holding frequently, in my stomach and gut as I feel it churning with the urge to throw up, in my lower back as it tenses up with every thought of what and who I’m missing. I can even feel the tension in my shoulders and neck…all from sorrow, loss of securities, assurances, relationships and people no longer in my life like they once were.

But I will sit here in the darkness and take deep breaths.

I will allow the grief to well up and spill out in wracking waves of sobs and tears like a toddler who is exhausted and doesn’t have the words or understanding to express how they feel in any other way.

I once had the illusion of control, and now realize there is very little I’m in charge of.

Certainly not other people or pandemics or catastrophes of any sort.

I can only be here in this moment and acknowledge my helplessness to change these things, and I can pick myself up and let the grief manifest itself in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self control, for the fruits of the Spirit would be completely unrecognizable without their opposites, all of which I have experienced. For joy is only known after suffering, and peace appreciated after unrest. Each fruit needs its shadow for full understanding.

I end this contemplative post with the wise words of author and theologian Barbara Brown Taylor, “New life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.” “Even when light fades and darkness falls as it does every single day, in every single life—God does not turn the world over to some other deity…Here is the testimony of faith; darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day.”

Control

Control. We’re all vying for it in one way or another from the moment we’re born.

I have a vivid memory of our firstborn son furiously blinking through the eye ointment they put on him right after birth, trying desperately to make sense of the new unfamiliar world around him. He’s still working hard to do just that, as we all are.

Some of us are more comfortable in the back seat, letting others drive, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want control. We’re just more underhanded about it…we might make sarcastic comments or have passive aggressive behavior, trying to subtly get our point across and be heard. Some of us flip the world off and say we don’t give a damn, and then we yell at the car for not starting or at the idiots driving around us. I sarcastically talk to inanimate items such as my phone, my purse that catches on the corner of a chair, or my car keys that I’ve misplaced for the umpteenth time.

Our biggest fear, to not have control, is an illusion. We are terrified of being out of control, yet in reality we have very little control over anything.

We delude ourselves that x + y= z so therefore if I do this and that it will equal this and that, when what we say and do is only one part of the outcome of anything.

Others have choices to make that ultimately we have no control over, and life has a way of throwing curve balls right at us.

No one, no one could have prevented my dad from his fate of lying flat on his back with Alzheimer’s the past six years, because if we could have we would have. Today is his 85th birthday and I don’t know why he’s still here having birthdays. He isn’t really here. I have no control over any of it and when I want to feel strong and in control I get angry, but underneath that rage is nothing but confused and helpless grief. Why? Why is he left here as a shadow of his true self in a shell of a body in limbo?

Why stop there? Why are kids dying of cancer? Why is anyone? Why do people die in tornadoes and hurricanes and earthquakes and car accidents? Why is there still so much racism and hatred in the world? Why do we pour love and wisdom and care and time into people and they leave us? Why do some people choose addiction over therapy? I could go on forever with the whys and it would drive me to insanity because I will never know in this lifetime.

I’m just so sad. I thought if I tried hard enough and dedicated myself to mental and emotional health through therapy, I would be a better person and those I love would learn and benefit from it. I thought I could control the outcome, but it was another illusion. I am a better person for it, but I can only control myself and no one else.

It always comes back to the serenity prayer, doesn’t it?

“God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change (other people and my past) the courage to change the things I can (myself and my present choices) and the wisdom to know the difference.”

But how do I deal with all the anger/rage/grief/sadness that comes from what is out of my control? I just have to take the time to cry it out, over and over again. I can only avoid the wracking sobs for so long until they bubble up out of my chest and bring me to my knees with my face on the ground.

I pray. When I can do nothing else, I cry and I pray. Author Edward Everett Hale wrote,

“I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”

I have this hanging in my music classroom to remind me not to get overwhelmed with what is out of my control and to focus on whatever I can do, however seemingly small and insignificant. But, as one drop of water creates huge ripples on the sea, so can one good deed.

An amazingly talented friend of mine put it in a similar perspective but with God’s love as the force,

“ I could stand upon a mountain and shout it to the sea, but righteous words are empty echoes until the heart believes, and when my faith is but a whisper You’re with me just the same, for Your love could fill an ocean with A Single Drop of Rain.”

Control is an illusion. Life is messy and people are crazy. Pandemics and other calamities happen. Speak truth in love, and move forward. Hear truth in love and ponder. Show love in truth and action, and let go of the rest, including those tears you’ve kept control of. They don’t need to be controlled, they need to be let go and cried out of your broken heart, your longing soul. And I will do the same.

The song Single Drop of Rain can be found at:

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/Pvk318hLHvk1jTz36

WandaVision

Spoiler Alert: if you haven’t watched the Avengers WandaVision series on Disney and don’t want to know what happens, don’t read this!

When I started watching WandaVision nine weeks ago I had no idea what I was getting into. The first few episodes were goofy and nostalgic, taking us back to the 60’s with a Bewitched theme and then the 70’s with The Brady Bunch. I was curious but kind of rolled my eyes, not understanding where it was headed. As the story unfolded I was hooked, realizing it was Wanda who had made the TV world of Westview so she and her recreated Vision could live in a bubble of happiness. Vision had been killed by Thanos in Avengers Infinity Wars. Wanda’s grief became so powerful that her chaos magic erupted out of her heart and created the fictional world, including Vision and their twin boys. As the episodes unfolded it was clear that reality was going to have its say. As I watched the finale of the season, I was completely wrecked. The tears started and by the end my chest was heaving with wracking sobs. Not just for Wanda and Vision, but for everything they represent…for the human condition…for the pandemic and how most of us have lost ourselves in TV land to escape the fear and loneliness inside of us. Tears for every loss I’ve ever experienced, recognizing the sadness has never gone away, it’s just locked away deep inside because I don’t know what to do with it. Things I can’t control…other people….death…pandemics…earthquakes…cancer….you name it…I’m not ok with any of it, but I have to shove it down in order to live my day to day life and not drive myself crazy trying to fix what is not in my power to fix.

Religion and faith have often been temporary bandaids but the wound is still there underneath and ultimately no matter what I profess to believe, regardless of how much I read, research, study, and hope for, I really just don’t know much of anything. There’s nothing that really can explain away the pain of this life. The grief is real and though I try desperately to build little bubbles of happy community with others, the questions and the sorrow never leave my heart and soul.

WandaVision communicated all of this and more in 9 episodes, and surprised me with opening up the box inside of me (without my conscious permission) by disarming me and making me feel vulnerable through Wanda’s experience. This is how art of all forms, music, poetry, paintings, movies, books, etc. gets past our invisible walls and boundaries quicker than any therapy session or well-meant conversation.

This year has truly been devastating on many levels, and we’re going to see and feel the ramifications for decades. There’s no denying it and the sooner we realize there’s no single person or organization to blame, the closer we’ll come to growing through it. We’re in this together, all of us…the whole world, and the pain is real. Instead of raging and fighting which only exacerbates the problems, let’s grieve together, and commit to helping each other in the midst of the seeming chaos that we cannot stop or control. Thanks WandaVision for deluding me back into reality!

Searching for The Source

I frequently write of the dangers of dualistic thinking because it is one of my core beliefs. This concept that “I am right and you are wrong”, “this group is fully good and that one is fully evil,” “this faith is of God and that one is of Satan,” “this political party is right and that one is wrong,”etc. The ultimate tool of hate is dualism.

This leads me to bring up the fact that another prominent religious leader has fallen, this time posthumously. Ravi Zacharias, author, apologist, theologian and Christian icon has been exposed as a sexual predator and abuser. Such anger fills me right now, anger towards him and his hypocrisy, anger towards the culture of Christian conservatism that breeds such hypocrisy, and deep sadness, grieving over the damage done in the name of Jesus.

We Christians will continue seeing our leaders fall in this way as long as we embrace dualistic thinking and religious perfection. There is no such thing as perfection, and to strive for it encourages lying, deception, and hypocrisy. Pretending we are holier than the world because we have Jesus and we don’t drink or smoke or dance or cuss or etc. perpetuates the lie that we are closer to God than those who do. Truth is, when we deny our humanity we end up becoming slaves to hiding it and it can become an all consuming monster. One that knows the truth of who we are and demands a regular ransom of attention and energy to hold our secrets.

I can honestly say I know just as many non-Christians who are striving to do what is right and making a positive difference in this world as I do Christians. Do you think our honest search for what is good and true goes unnoticed by God just because we don’t belong to a church or profess allegiance to Christianity? God is so much bigger than our religious boxes, and interested in ALL of creation.

The truth will set us free. Truth. I am not perfect. Far from it. I don’t go to church, I drink wine and margaritas and I can cuss like a sailor and I’ve been known to be very judgy and self-righteous. I don’t help out in homeless shelters and I feel guilty about it. I rarely donate to causes other than St Jude’s, but I’m certainly not a Mother Theresa type and I definitely feel inadequate. I’m selfish and moody and I struggle every day to make good choices from eating healthy to controlling my emotions to thinking about others’ needs. I’m damaged goods. I have lots of emotional baggage. I’ve had years of therapy but now realize no amount of therapy or faith or hope will ever completely fix me. Even my love of Jesus will never perfect me in this lifetime. What truly helps me is to keep striving for honesty and truth. To keep searching for God no matter where I am, and to hunger and thirst for what is right and what is good and what is true.

Recently someone I love found the courage to tell me the truth of how they really feel about me. They said they had been faking our relationship for two years and finally couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. It was extremely painful as I thought we we very close and that we had a trusting and truthful friendship. I had no idea it wasn’t real. However, she did the right thing. If she really couldn’t stand being around me and disagreed with my opinions so much that it caused deep-seeded resentment, she did us both a favor. She no longer has to fake a friendship and I no longer am deluded in thinking she was my friend. Painful but true.

The truth sets us free from pretending, from the weight of secrecy and the burden of hypocrisy. When we act like others expect us to act, we cut off a portion of our true selves which goes into hiding but never actually leaves. In that secret and dark place, that hidden part of us which is not necessarily evil in and of itself can easily become darker and more twisted because of its hiddenness. We may identify it as “evil” and feel shame over it, so we try to hide it even more. And as we expend the energy to keep it unknown the knowledge of its presence and its curiosity gnaws at our very souls. It can fester like a uncared for hurt and it can become our nemesis…the antithesis to our hero, yet ultimately it is an equal part of the whole of who we are, and unchecked it will eventually reign over all.

The God of love is the only God. All others are merely idols that we prop up in place of the one true God. Unfortunately our pledge of allegiance to our religion often keeps us from God’s love and grace. When we serve the idol of perfection and shame, even if it is under the guise of Christianity, we are far from the one true God. This season of celebrity pastors and Christian leaders must be completely exposed for the sham that it is. Instead of leading others to Christ it has blatantly repelled those who are seeking authenticity and unconditional love. God is not a cult leader of a passionate religious following. God is the God of the universe, of all things seen and unseen, known and unknown, and all are welcome to the table. God’s love is not exclusive but inclusive. All are invited…always.

“I the Lord search the heart and examine the mind, to reward each person according to their conduct, according to what their deeds deserve.” Jeremiah‬ ‭17:10‬ ‭

Belonging to a church or following a talented celebrity pastor will not bring any of us closer to God. Yes, gathering as seekers in love is an important part of faith and we certainly need authentic leaders and teachers. There is much good in Christians coming together and sharing their faith, but we must be wary in any organization to avoid group think and leader worship which pressures those in leadership to hide their weaknesses and lose their authenticity.

Truth, love, joy, peace, patience, self-control, goodness, faithfulness, kindness, gentleness, forgiveness…there is only one source for all of these, so like following streams to the source of life giving water, if we follow these we find the Source…we find God.

Fry, Faith, and Fairytales

Our son recently shared a video clip of British actor Stephen Fry’s 2015 interview. He, an atheist, is asked what he would say to God at the pearly gates if he happens to be wrong and there really is a God.

Mr. Fry passionately says, “Bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you create a world where there is such misery that is not our fault. It’s not right.”

Many people of faith were enraged and offended by his words, and have defended God and God’s goodness as if God needs defending.

I felt nothing but compassion.

I have those same questions and have yelled and cried out at God in grief and frustration.

The problem of pain has been a major contention if not the main stumbling block for many skeptics and believers alike. I am no theologian nor am I a master of apologetics. I am a 52 year old Kansas elementary music teacher who wrestles with such questions daily. I grew up in a Christian home and was taught that God is love and Jesus is God’s son who gave up everything for me. At church I was taught God’s atonement means God decided to save us from our rebellious sin that is the cause of all the evil in the world. Basically, God created everything perfect, we humans chose to ruin it, so God had to save our sorry hides by sending His son to die on the cross and pay our debt with His blood. A transaction, bought and paid for though I didn’t deserve it.

Now when I was a little girl my first mystical experiences with God had nothing to do with shame, guilt, and atonement. They were moments of pure unadulterated love and acceptance and joy.

The Spirit of the Lord never put shame or fear on me, but religion did.

The Spirit never told me that simply because I was born as a human I am personally responsible for everything gone wrong in the world, but the church did.

This dichotomy of doctrine versus personal experience has tortured me for decades. I’m now going to borrow from an earlier post of mine describing a spiritual moment I had in my late 30’s concerning this very argument. It happened in a shower of all places, back in the summer of 2005.

“As the water pounded down on me, I put my hands on the wall and cried out to my God. “I will not accept the blame for the sin in this world! If I’d been You, I would have never allowed this kind of suffering! I would NEVER have wanted to be born if I knew I was going to disappoint You, Lord, so this is on You and You alone.” I wept. And though there was no audible voice, my spirit heard more clearly than my ears have ever heard, “You’re right. It’s not your fault. That’s why I died on the cross…for all of it. It’s on me. You can let go.” That’s why I still believe. My God accepts the weight of creation. My God always knew life would be what it is, and chose to create it anyway. There must be purpose, there must be a reason for the pain. It’s not just because we live in a fallen world. It must be necessary for something more, or else an all knowing, all powerful God would never have allowed it. I choose to trust in my God, even though I feel anger which is really at it’s core…sadness, because children are suffering. I trust that somehow, though I am powerless to stop the suffering of the world, I can contribute. I can be a candle, as small as it may be, yet when lighted can provide vision in the dark.”

So I guess my answer to Stephen Fry is this. Yes Mr. Fry, I agree with you wholeheartedly. It’s not right. I feel your rage which is born of grief and abandonment. Where we differ is I choose to believe there is a God who makes sense out of the senseless, gives hope to the hopeless, and brings resurrection after death. I see the sick and twisted things of this world, but I also cannot unsee the beauty and order of it as well. The constant message of life and death and resurrection repeating itself in nature from the butterfly to the seasons to the ever expanding and contracting universe. I see how people make choices to be the hands, the feet, the face of God, by giving love and care and hope to a weary seemingly forgotten world. And I believe we are made in our God’s image, not the other way around. God can handle our rage, our tiny fists beating our chests, and I believe there is nothing but compassion and love and understanding, for our questions come from the inherent good in our hearts…the DNA of God, that tells us this world as it is is simply not right. I put all my hope in a God who agrees and will move heaven and earth, even give up His own life to make things right. This is my God of hope. It sounds like a fairy tale, but then again, the best fairy tales are fashioned out of the truest parts of our hearts.

As one of my heroes GK Chesterton wrote, “Fairy tales, then, are not responsible for producing in children fear, or any of the shapes of fear; fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Exactly what the fairy tale does is this: it accustoms him for a series of clear pictures to the idea that these limitless terrors had a limit, that these shapeless enemies have enemies in the knights of God, that there is something in the universe more mystical than darkness, and stronger than strong fear.”

The Welcoming Prayer

I haven’t been in a good headspace for awhile now. It seems I’m not the only one. Most of us are struggling with anxiety, depression, rage, grief, fear…and unfortunately rather than feel it we often try to direct it elsewhere, or onto others. So much angst is in the world right now…and so much comparison and blame. Pandemics happen. Hurricanes come. No one has to take the fall. We like to think we’re in control of our universe yet times like these remind us just how small we human beings are. I can’t even control my own anxiety let alone a pandemic, hurricanes, and other people!

We need to remember who we are and who we are called to be. A dear friend of mine reminded me of Jesus’s call to Peter.

“When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.” Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.” The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.”John 21:15-17

Jesus didn’t tell Peter to conserve his resources or to discern who His “sheep” are. He didn’t say Peter should force his will on others or make sure he was getting his fair share. He just asked him to love and feed them, “to be liberal with love, compassion, acceptance, inclusion” as my precious friend so aptly stated to me. And to liberally share what we have, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Politics have hijacked our language as well as our hearts. To be conservative or liberal is not necessarily an example of following Christ. We have not been called to “protect our backs” and label others “evil.” Christ calls us to a higher standard of love, of kindness, and of service.

“And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.”

Matthew 5:40-42

Love isn’t stingy. It isn’t calculated, manipulative, or demanding. It’s also not meant to be codependent or without boundaries. As we’ve all heard, sometimes love means letting go. Love comes from knowing who we are in Christ, in the universe, and accepting and respecting ourselves as we are. If we have self-love and acceptance, we can give that same love to others without losing ourselves, and if our love is spit upon and mocked, we can move on, knowing we loved freely and feeling the pain of rejection without blaming and hating. The whole world is suffering…and most of us don’t suffer well, I know I certainly don’t. My hope is that you and I will learn to sit in our own discomfort and grief and fear. To feel what we feel and cry deeply, instead of trying to throw our pain onto others in anger and blame. I’m ending this with Richard Rohr’s The Welcoming Prayer that was in my meditation this morning. Such a difficult and beautiful practice of accepting our own pain without judgment or comparison.

The Welcoming Prayer ( Adapted from Richard Rohr, The Art of Letting Go: Living the Wisdom of Saint Francis)

First, identify a hurt or an offense in your life. Remember the feelings you first experienced with this hurt and feel them the way you first felt them. Notice how this shows up in your body. Paying attention to your body’s sensations keeps you from jumping into the mind and its dualistic games of good/bad, win/lose, either/or.

After you can identify the hurt and feel it in your body, welcome it. Stop fighting it. Stop splitting and blaming. Welcome the grief. Welcome the anger. It’s hard to do, but for some reason, when we name it, feel it, and welcome it, transformation can begin.

Don’t lose presence to the moment. Any kind of analysis will lead you back into attachment to your ego self. The reason a bird sitting on a hot wire is not electrocuted is quite simply because it does not touch the ground to give the electricity a pathway. Hold the creative tension, but don’t ground it by thinking about it, critiquing it, or analyzing it.

When you’re able to welcome your own pain, you will, in some way, feel the pain of the whole world. This is what it means to be human—and, also, what it means to be divine. You can hold this immense pain because you too are being held by the very One who went through this process on the Cross. Jesus held all the pain of the world, at least symbolically or archetypally; though the world had come to hate him, he refused to hate it back.

Now, hand all of this pain—yours and the world’s—over to God. Let it go. Ask for the grace of forgiveness for the person who hurt you, for the event that offended you, for the reality of suffering in each life.

I can’t promise the pain will leave easily or quickly. To forgive is not to forget. But letting go frees up a great amount of soul-energy that liberates a level of life you didn’t know existed. It leads you to your True Self.

The Glass Castle

Mike and I watched The Glass Castle last week. I haven’t read the book but the movie was unsettling. Woody Harrelson brilliantly portrays Rex Walls, father of four, vacillating between intelligent and inspiring dreamer and irresponsible and neglectful alcoholic. The story is a memoir of the second oldest child, Jeanette, and centers around her love/hate relationship with her erratic parents.

Rex educates his children in unconventional yet often exciting ways, teaching them physics and geology through the world around them. His enthusiasm and zest for life are infectious not only to his children but to the viewer as well. This aspect of him strongly reminded me of my own dad, “King Jon”, and I felt a kinship with Jeanette as she idolized him. His dream was to build a “glass castle,” a home with glass walls and ceilings and ever changing architectural plans. His children hung on his every word when they were young, believing he could and would do everything he ever dreamed up. As they mature, they readily see the darkness of his addiction and how his denial is stronger than his talent. Yet the love between them all is genuine and as 1 Peter 4:8 says, “Love covers over a multitude of sins.”

The whole movie keeps the viewer on a rollercoaster of emotion, and I began to see how many of us try to categorize people as good or evil, but being human we are all a blend of both. The hope and the goal to strive for is that our good outweighs the bad, but many of us struggle and looking through an honest lens can see we often run 50/50. Addiction tips the scales, and Rex loses the respect of and communication with his daughter Jeanette. Eventually, she visits him and forgives him before his untimely death.

While my own father was much more consistent and nurturing, I felt the tug of war Jeanette’s heart was experiencing. I think most of us go through a time in childhood of equating our dads to God and our belief and trust is stronger than any evidence. As we grow in discernment we see the flaws in those we once deemed as gods. Disillusionment, disappointment, and anger accompany such knowledge, and we then must reevaluate our own values and beliefs. Hopefully relationships are healthy enough to grow through respectful and honest communication. I’m so thankful I got to have those hard conversations with my dad. I “held his feet to the fire” as I cried in brokenness and he took the heat and apologized for the mistakes he made. He showed such strength in being vulnerable and I love him more than ever because of it. I can only hope my own boys will challenge me in such a way and I will be ready with the same openness and vulnerability. Love, genuine love really does “cover over a multitude of sins” as it shines light through our glass castles, revealing our innermost fears and flaws.

Humility

Humility is like a cool wash cloth to a feverish forehead. It soothes the burning and comforts the ache of the unknown. The humble words of agnosticism are so much more convincing than the dogma of atheism or religiosity combined. If only we would truly learn and follow the servant’s example. I much prefer a quiet foot washing to an ear washing of well-intentioned words.

Words mean little to a grieving heart, but actions speak volumes. Just to sit with a known friend in silence, heart to heart, spirit to spirit, words aren’t needed when honesty and trust are present. So many try to make sense of it all, rationalizing every detail til all is sterile, gray, and unfeeling. Grief can’t be rationalized, it must be felt. And in the midst of pain the arrogance of “knowing” is like a barrage of arrows attempting to achieve the final blow. The mystery allows for sadness. In this present life, there is no sugar-coating to suffering and death. Death is imminent, Dark, unfathomable. When loved ones pass we cannot follow, therefore we cannot know. Arrogance disguises fear and claims knowledge of the unknowing. In contrast, Love cries tears of grief in the silence of the mystery. Humility quietly and lovingly holds the hand of the broken-hearted. Servanthood dries the tears, washes the feet, mows the yard, brings the dinner, gives a hug in humble love and kindness. Let us bow our heads in the mystery and grieve and love together. Ultimately, no one, not even one, has the knowledge that allows for arrogant religiosity and pride.

“The greatest among you will be your servant. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Matthew 23:11-12

“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.”

James 4:10

“Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.”

James 3:13

Grief

Grieving is awful. When we’re smacked in the face with loss, and the realization hits that we are helpless to change our circumstances, tears hit like a tidal wave. Denial keeps us going most days…shoving the truth of our feelings aside and going through the motions. But a song on our playlists, or a thought of vulnerable contemplation can bring the flood of sadness back in an instant.

What are you grieving? The end of a relationship? The loss of a loved one? Your health? The state of the world? Whatever it is, you are not alone. We all have broken hearts. There’s not a sane person alive who hasn’t grieved someone or something. Grief keeps us honest with ourselves and each other. Despair prompts us to search for comfort and truth.

Today my 4th Graders analyzed a song of their choice. We discussed the time signature, the tempo, instruments used, melody, whether there was harmony, and what the lyrics mean. I told them it’s a song about not giving up no matter what hardship you’re going through. I then asked if any of them had gone through a difficult time in life. Every 9 year old hand went up. We talked about being kind to each other because we don’t always know what someone else is going through. I told them sometimes we get angry and say mean things when we’re actually very sad. No one wants to feel pain.

I have a little wood block sitting on my piano that says “Music is what feelings sound like.” It rang true today. One little boy who always wears a faraway smile and seems completely uninterested in music connected with the song we listened to and was wiping his eyes. I asked him if he was ok and he said yes, the song just reminded him of something he felt sad about. We hugged. Such is the honest human journey.

Eye of a Hurricane

I’m struggling with words. My brain feels numb my body feels sluggish, my spirit feels hushed. Like I’m waiting for something else to happen…the next shockwave to hit. Unexpected grief is overwhelming, even when it’s secondary. I didn’t lose someone in my immediate family, but just knowing someone I cared about was there one minute and gone the next is unfathomable. I feel a constant throbbing emptiness that I shove down and put a lid on so I can smile and keep going with day to day routines. 

I’m speechless. I have no words of comfort except “We’re in this together,” “I love you” “we have each other.” I believe in God, in eternity, I put my hope in this, but I don’t know anything. I listen to the silence and strangely find some peace. I trust in the silence. There’s seems to be something bigger there than my perception and I will rest in this belief. 

Some talk too much, saying things out of nervousness or fear, too many words that seem disingenuous. We should just touch someone’s shoulder or squeeze a hand instead of speaking. Words can’t sum up or define the complete absence of a human being we have loved. To have heard their laughter a few days ago, seen their smile, and now they’ve vanished forever from sight, from hearing, from hugs. Gone. 

Where?

Someday I also will go into the unknown. I can only trust what I hope in, in Whom I believe. That there truly will come a day when “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.””Revelation 21:4 NIV 

For now, my eyes are swollen and my vision is blurred with the sorrow of loss, of the darkness in this world. No words can describe the ache. I just breathe deeply and listen to the quiet. I bow my head in reverence to the stillness. There’s something, someone in it, I feel the presence and peace, though heartache, agony, and despair swirl around me…it’s as if I’m in the eye of a hurricane. That strong calm center everything else circles. I will trust in the promises.

“For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.”

2 Corinthians 5:1 NIV

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

Isaiah 43:19 NIV

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Matthew 5:4 NIV

“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

John 14:2-3 NIV