sorrow

Emboldened for Life

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On a beautiful, warm, sunny morning one year ago today, I bid a final earthly farewell to my father. It was the most difficult day of my life since the other most difficult day of my life bidding my mother a final goodbye on a cold, rainy, snowy blustery day just one year before. The shining sun warmed the earth, a breeze carried the scent of trees in bloom, and the song of birds drifted gently in from afar –  a wonderful reunion was at hand!

As the day of honoring my father unfolded I was embraced with love from oh so many who had loved my dad. The rites, the acts of honor, the gatherings, the pleasantries – all served a purpose –  not only for my dad but for getting me through the day. The week of chaotic preparation – the obit writing, the slide show, the service planning, the cremation, the notifying, the receiving of others, the trying to make sure everything was done just right – had come to an end.

Every one that had surrounded my brother and I for the days preceding were getting on with their lives –  there were tee times to make and lawns to be mowed, groceries to be bought, work to get back to, weekend getaways to get on with.

It was then that the silence set in – the reality of it all came crashing down. Spending that night alone, in the house that had been a home to so much life gave powerful testimony to what I had lost. The emptiness was paralyzing. Having powered through my emotions for days the weight of grief suddenly buried me. It would do so for days, weeks, and months to come.

Looking back on this year now I have a much different perspective. The emptiness that accompanied me through life is starting to be filled with the joy of living again. The sorrow that still lingers is now appreciated for what it is – a tribute to the depth of love I have for my parents – rather than suffocating my will to live.

As a child I was terrified of the thought that one day my parents would die. I comforted myself by presuming that I would have my own family to attend to when those that had attended to me passed on; that the family life that I had known would be carried on through us.

That wasn’t to be. Rather, I was intended to make this journey on my own –  a solitary quest for life after death. By the grace of God and with the strength of the Holy Spirit I endured. I am a new person now molded by the revealing experience of death and emboldened to meet the opportunities of life.

“Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.” – Isaiah 40:28-31

Out of the Ashes

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I never thought I would do it again. I never thought I could do it again. My last was the best. I gave all of my heart to it for 9 years and it in turn gave life to my heart. It became a part of me, almost to the point of defining me. When it ended it felt like my world had split in two and my heart ripped from me. No one knowingly subjects themselves to sorrow and pain of that  magnitude and so I went on with my life, finding new distractions, new ways of organizing my days, new sources of joy, and finding a new identity.

I didn’t expect that I would encounter, so soon,  sorrow followed by even more sorrow – more than I had ever known before. And these sorrows were met alone without the comforts of my past. And unlike my past encounters with sadness, this time of darkness was anything but brief. It became my constant companion, it weighed on my heart, it depleted my energy, it ended nearly every day with tears, and it made laughter a sound of foreign origin.

I began to pine for the comforts of my past. The identity I once embodied. I needed something to fill the void, to become the target of my focus, to make my heart whole again, to invigorate my days, to reorient the drudgery that had taken over my life and chase away the darkness – something that would give me the high of being in love again.

Life isn’t meant to be lived alone. My new home, though full of stuff, feels devoid of life – no matter how cozy I try to make it with items from happier times back when and other decorative fluff. Emptiness has greeted me at the end of every work day and just made the darkness dig in deeper.

And so I gave in and decided to go back to who I once was, even though it would mean that I would be the one left behind, out of the limelight, and completely exhausted – at the beginning at least. It is time.

I am once again, a girl and her dog.

Out of the ashes of the past two years – the loss, the grief, the growth, the discovery comes the promise of hope and the light and the warmth of a new life. Meet Ember, registered name Elkhorn Mountain Southpaw’s Ember of My Heart. He has stolen my heart and will hopefully begin to heal it.

The Goodness that Grows from Grief

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“The dance of life finds its beginnings in grief……Here a completely new way of living is revealed. It is the way in which pain can be embraced, not out of a desire to suffer, but in the knowledge, that something new will be born in the pain.”  – Henri Nouwen

It has been nearly a year as I write this, since my mother’s passing. March 20th to be exact. The first day of spring and the beginning of Holy Week. Her passing as the death of winter gave way to the new life of spring continues to shape my journey through grief.  There was something about my Mom dying at Easter that helped me get through her death with hope and faith. I felt a strength and peace I didn’t know possible carrying me through her memorial on Good Friday and the celebration of her resurrection alongside that of my Lord, Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday. The promise of the new eternal life we have in Him enabled me to push through my grief and resume living or at least tried to.

But time is not the great healer as I was told. I will be honest, despite my best efforts to be strong and shine brightly in honor of my mother, the sorrow is still right there, just below the surface, waiting to turn my eyes into pools overflowing with the emptiness her absence has left in my life. However, my mother and father raised a rather stubborn and determined daughter and as such, I am determined that this season of sadness will nurture the goodness that grows from grief.

You see, my mother’s death plowed my heart, turned over the broken stubble of the past, and inspired new shoots take root.

“So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.” – 2 Corinthians 4:16

I am a year older. If anything, the events of this past year – my mother’s passing, my Dad’s rapid decline in health, and my own health crisis – have affirmed that I am closer to my expiration date than I was yesterday. This past year has brought me up close and personal to the reality of my mortality. Through the goodness of grief, this grim awareness has sparked a sense of urgency in me – not in a panicky sense – but rather a determined urgency that calls me to shine in the sorrow and shine in the joy of each day.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” – Romans 12:12

A common phrase shared between my brother and I of late as we deal with some of the sad realities of life has been: “It is what it is,” but the goodness of grief calls me to rebuke that sort of thinking. Rather than take each day “for what it is” I am decidedly giving thanks for every day that I have no matter what emotions the events of the day conjure up.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” – Romans 12:15

Having my heart plowed by death did a good job of breaking down my belief that sorrow should be a silent and a solo affair. Through the goodness of grief, I have come to realize that sorrow is meant to be shared with others just as joy is. The key words here are shared and with. Not just my sorrows and joys, but sharing with others in their sorrow and joy.  This means not just praying for but praying with someone and not just sharing in someone’s celebration but truly rejoicing in their joy.  Bearing grief with others means being vulnerable to one another but also means we find comfort in one another. Through that vulnerability we are made stronger.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. ‘Be still, and know that I am God!’”  – Psalm 46: 1, 10  

Having my heart plowed by death also forced me to pause the chaos of life. Perhaps my own health crisis was the final till that cultivated this new sense of being. Through the goodness of grief, I have let go of some of my past busyness and grown more comfortable with being alone. I have learned to relish moments of solitude and carve out time for them. Moments where I can be still and let my emotions be raw and real in the quiet of His presence.

“And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly… But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.” – Romans 5: 3-6, 11

Turning over the broken stubble of the past is not an easy process. The deepest furrow was my broken relationship with my mother and the regrets I experienced in her last months over the state of our relationship. Unfortunately, so much of what I truly felt – the love and appreciation I had for her was left unsaid. The mother-daughter bond we shared – though different from a Hallmark card – meant everything to me, a truth that I will forever live with and pray that she knew in her heart how I felt. Through the goodness of grief, I have accepted the past, the broken parts, the unrealized goals, the lessons learned the hard way – the stubble of life –  for what it is – the nutrient rich soil from which new life springs every day.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” – Psalm 147:3

Through the goodness of grief,  I have found new shoots taking root in my life—I have been spurred to change  and to grow because the temporal nature of this life has been made real to me. I have taken on new studies, reinforced relationships, and discovered new interests. I have become more intentional in the things I do rather than just going through the motions. Each day  is an opportunity to become more  alive and make more of life.

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” –  John 8:12

Through the goodness of grief, I have come to know what true joy is. To see light, you must first know darkness. The two are not incompatible but rather depend on each other. Seeing light from the darkness and shining light into darkness is the beautiful dance of life. The goodness of grief has shown me that I must walk through the darkness to dance in the light and it has called me to share with others that new way of living.

Let your light so shine!