Seasons of grief.
Doesn’t it seem like there are seasons in life filled with grief? One story follows another, and we wonder…
how much more?
The grief is not always right at our doorstep…
sometimes it is only a few steps away…
sometimes we are bystanders ~ standing on the sidelines of pain
sometimes our feet cross the line… we are on the field… the sorrow is ours to share.
My season began in March. She was one of my closest… one of a small handful… she knew the one I had been before… and the one I am now.
You know, the kind of friend who remembers who you were before you took on the titles of Mrs. and Mama.
I remember who she was then, too, before she became Mrs. and Mama.
I crossed the line onto the field of grief. I didn’t pay much attention to the ones on the sidelines. I knew they were there. Praying. My warrior, my babies, my friends… It brought comfort. The prayers eased the weight on this heart.
I remember the day she called me… filled with tears… fears. They didn’t know how far the cancer had spread yet. In hindsight, they had it all wrong anyway. Three years she lived that life… she didn’t want to be defined by that word.
She grew in her faith. I suppose she could have turned the other way…
I thank Him every day that she turned to Him ~ not away.
All the conversations we had once upon a time… they all turned to Him now. By His grace ~ her faith grew… until she went home to Him in March.
Another…
A warrior friend. We would receive words from him while he battled for life. The amazing words from him were filled with hope, love, praises for God’s goodness. While his body faltered… fell to the disease… his faith grew. His spiritual strength he poured into the words he shared. His one question… left as a reminder to us, still here…
We were but spectators of family grief. Offering what we had. Prayer. Presence.
Again…
A godly woman. Wife to a God-serving, country-serving man. Mother to a six pack of her own. The story itself brings Job to mind. The burdens just too much for one man to bear. A loving wife passing into the arms of a Savior, six small children ~ a little one suffering illness herself, a loving father taking on everything he can hold… struggling to reach the top of the water… just to breathe.
The grief, the sorrow, the struggle ~ observed from the sidelines.
That’s just when it is time. Time to step across into the grief. That place we don’t want to be. That season we fear.
Grief taken on… to shoulder the burden together.
If He had wanted us to be islands… He would have made us islands…
Wise words from this man, who by God’s mercy, has not crumbled under his sorrow.
I think of this season. Puzzled by a flicker of joy. The chance to provide help… blessed to be a blessing.
The joy perhaps a sense of His arms wrapping around? Him using us to show His presence… His love… His yoking with us in this walk.
The thing about grief… no matter how far you find yourself from the line ~ whether caught on the field in a blur of pain, or on the sidelines, observing the swell of sorrow ~ the thing is… we are all in this. We are not islands.
We are meant…
to be present for each other…
to provide for each other…
to pray for each other.
Matthew 11:28-30
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
