Healing Is On Its Way

A few months into the pandemic, someone who was once very close to me died suddenly.

I still remember how I felt and the scene around me as I stood on Main Street in Breckenridge last summer. Main Street, which is normally open to car traffic, was closed. Instead, the two-way street was filled with dining tables and chairs spilling out of restaurants along the street.

While standing in line with family and waiting for crepes we ordered, I signed up for a grief recovery support group in Dallas. I remember looking at the registration form on my phone, typing in my contact info and scrolling down to the last question about the nature of my loss. As I answered matter-of-factly with a phrase, I recall muttering "bloody hell" before taking a deep breath and holding back tears. “God, is this really happening? What do You even want me to do with this?”

How does one hold sorrow, forgiveness, acceptance, and hope all at once? Is it even possible?

I knew I needed help — competent and compassionate help.

Processing Grief

I remember the first day I walked into grief support. Before dispersing into small groups, about 30 of us gathered in a large room to listen to someone share about their journey with grief. I showed up right on time and the only empty row was up front with chairs six feet apart. As I listened to one of the group leaders tell their story, I began to wonder what was I even doing there -- tears falling, body feeling numb, thoughts racing. Did I have a right to be there? How do I stop the tears? Why didn't I arrive early so I could sit in the back? To calm down I reminded myself, "I am here today to see if this might be helpful and if I would want to go back".

Grief is the price we pay for love. Without love, there is no grief to process and no tears to be shed.

From Colin Murray Parkes, a British psychiatrist who studied and wrote extensively on grief and bereavement:

“The pain of grief is just as much part of life as the joy of love: it is perhaps the price we pay for love, the cost of commitment. To ignore this fact, or to pretend that it is not so, is to put on emotional blinkers which leave us unprepared for the losses that will inevitably occur in our own lives and unprepared to help others cope with losses in theirs.”

A few weeks into grief support, I wrote this as I tried to put what I felt into words:

The One Lost Not Left Behind

A new thing I’ve learned from grief support is that comfort doesn’t just happen or come to you sometimes. There will be times when you need to seek, choose, or fight for it.

And today that seems to be just what happened while listening to a song I’ve been afraid to listen to for several months because it meant a lot to someone who mattered to me and is now gone. The last time I listened to it was with them.

Reluctantly going for a run and ending up in this garden was a gift. A garden that has seen several life transitions in the last year.

As I walked around it, the pond was filled with water and I noticed that the night lights and snowflake ornaments were up. I couldn’t remember if they were ever taken down after winter. But I remembered earlier this spring when the gardeners were pruning the bushes and the pond was dry and I noticed the dew on the grass. It was May 6th to be exact, when they did that Blue Angels flyover in Dallas. Same day when I also reluctantly went out for a run, ended up in this garden and left with a prayer.

That morning I read this quote by Elisabeth Elliot: “Settle it, once for all—You can never lose what you have offered to Christ. It is the man who tries to save himself (or his reputation or his work or his dreams of success or fulfillment) who loses. Jesus gave us His word that if we’d lose our lives for His sake, we’d find them.”

*Deep sigh. Deep breath*

Today as I remembered, I took a moment to think of that person yet again — of the life that was lived. I felt anger and sadness at the things that led to resignation to life circumstances far beneath their identity and what was already given to them. I felt grateful for the good choices they did make, meaningful memories shared, and lessons I learned through them.

That song I was afraid to listen to didn’t sting as I thought it would. It ends with “You’re the One who never leaves the one behind”, and it spoke to me in a deep, meaningful way that will end up in the pages of my black Moleskine journal.

“If You left the grave behind You so will I”.

In this season I grieve, and this is not where I will stay.

At the end of grief support, I wrote this:

Pain & Peace

…....

I also don’t think I’ll forget the flood of support from people who knew and had suffered pain before. They knew what pain felt like so they reached out because they knew that being assured you’re not alone in your pain is helpful.

No need for solutions; simply the acknowledgment that the pain is real, you’re not alone, and this feeling you have right now is not forever.

Yesterday was graduation night for grief class. 3 months of sitting with women to process grief. Of listening to women share about unimaginable loss. Although their losses are far greater than mine, not once did they make me feel like my grief was invalid or less than. Not once was it not okay to express ANY type of emotion.

Last night as we shared what we were grateful for, the thought that came to mind was that the nearness & tenderness of Jesus was palpable in the room.

I grew up knowing this in words: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Little old me knew very little what that meant. I saw others find comfort in it. Perhaps now I know it in heart like they do.

I’m grateful for this pain because it allowed me to witness the tenderness & nearness of Jesus.

I’m grateful for this pain because it did these & more:

• taught me that love freely given isn’t wasted

• exposed a blind spot

• gave me courage to stand up to religious hypocrisy

• took me out of the company of a false Gospel (now I truly know what wolves in sheep’s clothing mean—no they don’t show up looking & acting like wolves; they show up like sheep first, reciting Scripture)

• propelled me to many of the “next right thing”

• God doesn’t waste anything to fulfill His purpose

Pain & peace can co-exist. After last night’s graduation, for the first time in a few weeks, I slept 8 hours straight.

Leaning Into Grief

While watching a vlog episode recently, someone verbalized what the last several months have felt like. If you are in the middle of processing loss and disappointment, lean into the grief and know this:

“Healing is on its way. It’s already happening. Healing is happening even when you’re not quite there yet.”