Tag Archive | grief

surely God.

It’s not the weight you carry but how you carry it.

There is a way to carry grief.

Once you get knocked over by it, once you finally stand up, you look ahead to the years without that one you loved so very much, and wonder how you will live without them.

When I watched the days my father slipped away from this life, try as he may, conscious of wanting to live for family and friends, he could not.

Grief is like that. You can’t live for others. As much as you love them, your heart is torn in two. Particularly, the pain of losing a child is like no other. It is so very deep, it doesn’t help to hear you have to live for your other children. You want to. But your broken heart consumes your mind.

I think grieving is very close to dying.

The dying slowly drift away until there is a sudden wakefulness when the mind says to live. Then dying takes over once again.

But grieving is not dying, even though it feels just like that. And how we feel is not always indicative of what is absolutely true.

God gives us the ability to carry the weight of pain and suffering. Our willingness to let him is our part.

There will be a day, an hour, when you feel a gentle nudging. You will probably brush it away. Allowing ourselves to feel the pain makes us fight. And that fighting keeps us going.

Yet, God gently nudges us again until eventually, we are brought face to face with a choice: how we will carry the weight of pain and suffering.

When we stay in a fighting position, whether passively or aggressively, we become used to coping this way. It feels like an intrusion when truth gently brushes our deeply painful heart. And if we’re honest, we know exactly where that truth is coming from. For some of us, whether we realize it or not, we may be angry with God, the truth giver, for not explaining why he allowed this. Why he saves some from accidents, sickness, and death – and didn’t save mine.

Understood.

When the worst day of my life came to my doorstep, I felt like I was drowning. I could not think of anyone else if I wanted to. The physical pain was so intense, so overwhelming, I wanted to die.

I am thankful for those early days of friendship and love. But then everyone goes home and life goes on.

Here is when the seeds of anger, resentment, bitterness, depression, and so much more can settle into a vulnerable, broken heart.

And at the right time, God nudges.

Joy and sorrow dwell together in this world. We are not victims of sorrow because God made a way to carry it. Not only that, but we have hope in his promises of eternity.

The Bible tells us to trust the Lord with all our heart and not to not rely on our human understanding. When we acknowledge him, he guides and directs us.

I chose to do that even though what I was feeling was nowhere near trusting God.

This is how we carry the weight – no matter what it is.

We can see God as an unfair, confusing, unpredictable entity who allows pain and suffering and is not to be trusted or believed in for that matter.

Or we can choose to see God as one who is ready to comfort, guide, and show us how to carry the weight through the pain and suffering in life, even when we don’t understand why it exists.

It’s okay to limp through life. I don’t believe for one second the mindset of some Christian streams of thinking/teaching/preaching who claim otherwise. I cannot look at photos of my son. I cannot listen to certain songs. I avoid stories of when he was here. I avoid places that make it worse. I avoid people who make it worse.

I live life differently and I have been absolutely amazed how God has let me know how close he is to me. Some little ways and some big ways. Thing is, no one can take that away from me. It is so personal to me, I can’t help but feel loved.

I hope you will respond to the nudges to your heart of trusting in a God who knows you don’t understand, but will help you in ways you won’t believe.

path

photo: foter.com

but how you carry it.

That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying

I went closer,
and I did not die.
Surely God
had his hand in this,

as well as friends.
Still, I was bent,
and my laughter,
as the poet said,

was nowhere to be found.
Then said my friend Daniel,
(brave even among lions),
“It’s not the weight you carry

but how you carry it –
books, bricks, grief –
it’s all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot, and would not,
put it down.” So I went practicing.
Have you noticed?

Have you heard
the laughter
that comes, now and again,
out of my startled mouth?

How I linger
to admire, admire, admire
the things of this world
that are kind, and maybe

also troubled –
roses in the wind,
the sea geese on the steep waves,
a love
to which there is no reply?

—Mary Oliver

woman's fall woman girl

Photo on <a href=”https://foter.com/”>Foter.com</a&gt;

he is not so far away ..

“But then I remember this means he is not so far away, and we’re not so far from him, and it makes me smile”.

Mary Katharine Hamm lost her husband in 2015. She was pregnant with her second child.

She recently wrote this article  I know will resonate with anyone who has lost a loved one.

After reading her story it occurred to me, no 2 personal experiences I have read about grieving are the same.

We who are grieving over a severe loss, walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, enveloped by the coldest, darkest place we’ve ever known. And yet, it  seems each of us finds glimmers of light along the way.  The smallest speck of light is the brightest because it is the darkest there, illuminating what we would not have seen otherwise.

 He is not so far away …

This thought brings a new feeling of comfort.

Heaven may be closer than we think.

lights

Photo by mripp on Foter.com / CC BY

strength.

my_creation_letter_sYou can’t fix grief.

A paper cut will heal quickly.

A gun shot wound requires more time.

Sometimes the bullet cannot be removed.

People live with bullets inside of them.

People live with broken hearts.

This isn’t hopelessness.

It is acceptance of what is.

Once accepted,  you carry grief with strength…

beautiful strength,

Photo credit: hyperbolesque / Foter / CC BY-NC

Photo credit: hyperbolesque / Foter / CC BY-NC

grief.

Kijg9A6kTThere are no quick fixes for grief. It’s a process that continues the rest of your life.  You are not the same person. In some ways you are better. In some ways you are not.

If it weren’t for God, I would not have made it. I didn’t hold onto him as much as he held onto me. When no one understands, God does. When no one is there, God is.

How can I explain the calmness that came upon me in the middle of many nights?

How can I explain joy in the midst of sorrow?

How can I explain being content with unanswered questions?

I can’t. I can only say it exists. I felt it.

The very same God who did not intervene when my son died, is the same God who protected me from grief overtaking me. Thing is, many people turn away from God. I did not.

That’s because I made a choice to trust God, believing he knows all the answers to my questions. I won’t know “why” today. But someday, I will. Because he promises that there will be a day when he wipes away every tear and there will be no more sorrow or death.

For me, that is an answer. He knows life will be painful. For now. And I choose to keep that day in my thoughts.

Photo credit: TheAlieness GiselaGiardino²³ / Foter / CC BY-SA

Photo credit: TheAlieness GiselaGiardino²³ / Foter / CC BY-SA

beautiful strength.

ballerina-8_l

You can’t fix grief.

A paper cut will heal quickly.

A gun shot wound requires more time.

Sometimes the bullet cannot be removed.

People live with bullets inside of them.

People live with broken hearts.

This isn’t hopelessness.

It is acceptance of what is.

Once accepted,  you carry grief with  strength…

beautiful strength.

~~~

Photo Courtesy:http://www.flickr.com/photos/mait/5184718154/

Reblog

trusting God with grief.

There are no quick fixes for grief. It’s a process that continues the rest of your life.  You are not the same person. In some ways you are better. In some ways you are not.

If it weren’t for God, I would not have made it. I didn’t hold onto him as much as he held onto me. When no one understands, God does. When no one is there, God is.

How can I explain the calmness that came upon me in the middle of many nights?

How can I explain joy in the midst of sorrow?

How can I explain being content with unanswered questions?

I can’t. I can only say it exists. I felt it.

The very same God who did not intervene when my son died, is the same God who protected me from grief overtaking me. Thing is, many people turn away from God. I did not.

That’s because I made a choice to trust God, believing he knows all the answers to my questions. I won’t know “why” today. But someday, I will. Because he promises that there will be a day when he wipes away every tear and there will be no more sorrow or death.

For me, that is an answer. He knows life will be painful. For now.

And I choose to keep that day in my thoughts.