Grief: Powerful, but No Manners

{Momma's charm bracelets, full of decades of memories, worn by the girls who call her "Nana"}

I read things on grief— well, anything actually— and I think, why do I need to say more?  What more can be written?  And then I remember, I process as I think and I write as I think.  So I write.  For me.  And if my processing through my fingers helps anyone else, then let the clicking of the keys commence.

I'm finding that grief is a broad word with no bottom, no boundaries in any direction at all— and so, basically, it has no manners.  It crashes in on a normal day—one with a perfectly wonderful beginning— landing in your lap and you have to figure out what to do with it.  Quickly, mind you. You don't get a run through, a chance to practice or time think it through, as people like me like to do.  You get it on the fly and truly do the best you can.  I knew my mom's cancer was spreading but she'd THRIVED with it for so many years— hardly ANY "hitches" in her "giddy up".  I knew cancer would be what would get her but THE call from my brother came just hours after getting a thumbs up text regarding mom and a report from her doctor.  However, I was 2 1/2 hours from home and my Jeff.  No manners.  No thought of circumstances.  No thought of the receiver.  Just barged right into my life that afternoon saying, "Figure me out."  I am finding that takes a while.

Grief is fascinating too because it's universal.  Grief is something that slams into everyone on the planet at least once and most likely several times throughout a lifetime.  BUT even with it's broad strokes and it's impartiality… it is a unique experience—  highly personal and extremely private for most… even though it's a shared experience across cultures and continents. However, the universal experience splinters off in a bazillion directions as we remember the one we lost.  Oh, how the stories differ!  My family is humbly grateful that our stories are sweet.  Each one of us has our own beautiful and honest memories of Momma but when we put them all together and add in the memories of our extended family, closest friends, acquaintances and even a complete stranger in our case, we've really got something special...something lovely that keeps her relationship with us and her influence alive in us somehow.  That's a grace gift— a grace gift from the Lord.

 And there are more stories, of course, we all have them and should share them— what led up to it, how we found out, where we were, how we felt, how we feel, how we responded, how we remember them— and maybe, most important of all, what our grief looks like now— while we clean the house, go to work, cook dinner, attend meetings, celebrate occasions, have dinner with friends, go to church, run carpool….. grief in the midst of Wednesday afternoon life. Each one of us has to learn this.  I saw a book title— A Broken Heart Still Beats.  Yes, it does— a tender reminder to us that we live in spite of loss with the loss.  And my prayer is that I learn to live with loss well— with a bigger and more tender heart.

I love this quote by Anne Lamott, "If you haven't already, you will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and you never completely get over the loss of a deeply beloved person.  But this is also good news.  The person lives forever, in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up.  And you come through, and you learn to dance with a banged-up heart."

Last thing I've thought about, grief is powerful in a practical kind of way in that it is capable of much.  It can bring together or it can tear apart.  Grief can lead to self-absorption or it can gift you with open arms to give, receive and accept.  It can break down barriers or it can put them up.  Grief can lead to a keener understanding of love and joy or it can lead to far deeper pain.  Grief can steal or it can give.  It can lead to resentment or it can lead to a fuller appreciation.  Grief can drive us to a plethora of activities or it can lead us to….. grieve… in honor and respect of the one we lost.  Grief can turn one away from God or it can be the ballast that makes stronger the road on which you run to Him.  And because, by God's grace, I hardly know anything else, that's what I did.  His track record with me has been faithfulness— I didn't say "understandable" or "comprehensible"— but absolutely faithful.  Every day I live, I walk on the road which has been built up — and is still being built— by every minute spent in His Word, by every pastor, every teacher, every mentor that teaches me His Truth, by parents who loved me and made church priority, by a husband who encourages me to pursue Him more, by my children who need to see me set my feet securely on this path I ask them to try.

This is why I run to Him in my saddest moments.  This is the road I know to be strongest…the road I know that will not disappoint.  This is the road that leads to Him, the One who is all powerful, capable of handling my messy, confused emotions because in His perfect manner He is closest to the brokenhearted, the One who knows grief to the fullest.