Some Days are Stone

I participated in a video project for our church, headed up by Shirley Thiessen. The project is called "Grieving with Hope." It's come time to view the finished project along with other participants, friends and family. I assume it's going to be a powerful film but I'm startled to realize I don't want to go to the screening.

This is the thing about grief and loss. Some days are diamonds and some days are stone. Some days life is so beautiful, I ache with the glorious joy of it all. Other days grief rises like a tsunami and I'm dashed against the rocks.

All of this - all of it, good and bad - is life and love and loss and recovery. 

There is no easy button. Some days I hang on to Jesus and when I've lost my grip, I discover Jesus holds me. Sometimes I'm held by Him through Henry, Andrew, Susan, Jean, Cathy, Peggy, Barb, Pamela, Cheryl, Pauline, Steve Wanda, John, Jim, Sheilia and hundreds more of you who pray and hug and care for me and for each other.

You know what happens as we walk together, bind up the broken-hearted, carry one another through the loss and dance together through the celebrations? Every breath, every step, every mundane moment of every day becomes a testament to hope and restoration.

All because of Love.

--------------------------------------------

Update: I decided, with my husband and two dear friends by my side, I could attend the screening after all. It spanned the gamut of emotions, as I expected, but I was able to resist the constant urge to bolt (or throw up). My part was small, in context of the film. When twelve people are interviewed for a 45 minute film about their very different journeys, every story (out of necessity) is abbreviated. The editor shapes the outcome toward his or her intended focus. This is the privilege and responsibility of filmmakers. I would tell the story in a different way because the journey and focus is unique to me. But the video is there, and it is out of my hands. As the photo quote at the top of this post affirms, "My brokenness is a better bridge for people than my pretend wholeness ever was." My prayer is that my story may be of some benefit to aid another on their own journey. It is the Spirit's work and the Spirit sifts it for Spirit purposes. Amen.

Don't Doubt in the Dark What God Has Shown You In the Light

Do not assume that he who seeks to comfort you now lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good. His life may also have much sadness and difficulty…Were it otherwise he would never have been able to find these words. – Rilke

It is so important to understand, in the midst of our darkness, that the one who brings comfort through their words and assistance may be bearing wounds far beyond what we ourselves are experiencing. I have been (and am still) on both sides of that equation, both giving and receiving comfort.

As I approach the second anniversary of my first husband's suicide, the grief is waning and overwhelming waves that blindside me are less frequent. Some parts of my life are happier now than I can ever remember being in my entire life. My new husband not only loves me well in every possible way, he makes me laugh, leans into the hard conversations, teaches me new things, helps in practical ways, coaches me to sleep, dries my tears and leads me to Jesus. And that is just the first 11 weeks.

Now that I’m in a safe place, growing stronger in this season of life thanks to a loving and stable environment, other parts of my life are beginning to require attention. Parts that have lived in shadow and shame. Parts I am just beginning to name. As others have said, we cannot heal what we do not acknowledge and it is in naming a thing that we take away its power. This is more than disconcerting.

She could never go back and make some of the details pretty. All she could do was move forward and make the whole beautiful. – Terri St. Cloud

One of these places feels like an unmarked grave in the forest. Dark. Quiet. Frightening. If I begin to dig, not only will it be difficult work, I do not know in what condition the remains will be or if I’ll even be digging in the right place. While my impulsive, impatient, perfectionist self wants to pave this place over and put up an amusement park, my heart knows the offenses of another against my much younger self are hidden there and will undermine the foundation of anything I try to construct over it.

The worst form of censorship is when we edit our story to make it acceptable to others.
– People of the Second Chance

So I hold tight to that comforting, yet somehow disturbing portion of Psalm 23: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”

Even better, how Eugene Peterson puts it into context in The Message:

God, my shepherd!
I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through
Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
when you walk at my side.

Recently, God told me to “Rest!” and to wait on him, watching where he goes and he invites me to walk alongside. I’m not digging up these old bones alone. He’s let me sleep in lush meadows and drink from quiet pools while I catch my breath. He’s given me the GPS coordinates and even though the way is going through Death Valley, he’s with me and for me, so I don’t have to be afraid.

Now, where is that backhoe?

From Darkness to Light

So grateful...
for the writers, poets and theologians in my life who challenge my thinking. 

Doubly grateful...
for the healing I found through Freedom Session. 

Beyond grateful...
for the friends and family who have stood with me, even carried me, through the dark night of the soul and through the deepest loss I have known. 


The beauty, truth and love embodied by each person provides one more taste of the Divine presence and I am transformed, touch by touch, word by word, song by song; my hand held, my voice heard, my heart healed, my soul renewed.



Picture: depositphotos.com #30835497, standard license