loss

It’s not selfish to acknowledge the ways that your heart is grieving in a season of loss or pain, even as you look around and realize that others are as well. It doesn’t make it all about yourself if you admit your grief, even while recognizing that others’ lives are maybe more intimately or practically impacted by grief.

And Scripture is clear, that we are to weep with those who weep. To mourn with those who mourn. We don’t do so without hope (thank the Lord!), but there’s no need to brush past the lament as it comes… in fact, to do so would be to miss part of the heart of God in the process.

Waves come… shock, anger, questioning if it’s even real, sadness, sleeplessness, sleepiness, wanting to talk, not wanting to talk, being able to work, not being able to work (I’ve found myself here for the last week and a half), needing moments to laugh, feeling guilty for laughing, and so much more!

Surprising flashes reminding of past grief come as well… Things that remind you the last time you felt that way, had to make those decisions, had to care for others in that way… The strength that comes from having worked those muscles before and now having to do it again, doesn’t negate the possibility of being overcome by emotion at surprising moments that touch on the tender spots of memories from before. Because, let’s be honest…

None of us should be “good” at death. We weren’t made for it. None of us should feel compelled to apologize for tears welling up… Yet so often we do. Or we just don’t let them in the first place. Admit when you have feelings of “not being good at this”… but confess the reality that “this” (death, loss) is not what we were made for. We were made for life, created by Life Himself, to live forever together. 

How many times do you have to take care of children who’s parents have medical emergencies and are sick where loss is eminent before it feels normal? I hope never. How many times do you walk out on stage to sing over a packed room come to simultaneously mourn and celebrate a life well-lived before it feels normal? I hope never. How many times do you take a pile of food to the home of one you love, not knowing what to say or not say, before it feels normal? I hope never. 

In the midst of the well-known tragedy, life goes on and a myriad of other losses pile up all around… Firsts without loved ones, loss of life just beginning, a terminal diagnosis, anniversaries of rejection, and so. much. more. Compounding our awareness that this world is groaning, longing to be made new. Please don’t dismiss your own grief in light of others’. Neither do we need to wallow in our pain. But I’m afraid the tendency I’m more prone to see is a lack of true grieving, which can be so damaging. True grieving does allow us to move through into a space of comfort and hope.

Don’t miss the miracle of entering, of getting low, of holding space, of weeping, of sharing memories, of belly laughing, of doing the hard work and the heavy lifting. (And go hold a baby… I’m telling you, do it.)