Good Grief

Seriously, Grief? I don’t even know what it is, but I’m pretty sure I’m caught in the whirlwind of it. One minute I am just fine and dandy and the next I’m crying my face off. No joke. I feel a little like Queen Elsa – only I can’t make pretty staircases out of ice. I feel like there’s a storm of emotion going on inside of me, but I am hardly even aware that it’s there and I never know when it is going to flurry. I don’t even know the colors or dimensions of it. It just… comes up. Out of nowhere! Unannounced! And it has the worst timing!

I lost my baby.

How do you grieve that? How do you come back to the place where you are whole and able to move on without the terret-ish flurries? Or is that really wholeness? My heart is hurting. I want THAT baby. That baby was part of me, it lived in me, it was formed and magnificently designed inside of me. I want to think that I’m over it, but I’m not. I'm admitting it. Is that how this grief thing really works?

This afternoon I was outside leveling a canyon that was left in our front yard by the removal of a tree. The tree was gone long before we ever moved in, and it left behind a huge hole filled with overgrown grass and surrounded by strangely raised piles of earth that made it impossible to mow. When I started digging, I was surprised to find the hole was actually quite deep. Suddenly, my shovel struck something hard. I leveraged it and the root of the old tree broke through the dirt. Surprisingly the inside of it still seemed fresh and alive.

My shovel caught several more pieces, all with the same bright inside. I didn’t even think twice about it until I started to throw the dirt in on tip of it all. It felt as if something gripped me on the inside, in a place of pain and confusion. Like in war movies when someone gets injured – ya know, the friend comes along to tie a rag or something around the bloody wound and the pressure HURTS LIKE HELL. Luckily I was sweating so much that none of my neighbors could really tell the difference between the streams running down my face.

I just felt so raw and vulnerable. So unsure of whether my feet were on the ground or over my head. I was a mess.

 

You know, the Lord is so sweet. He is so gentle and kind. I was afraid to go there with him outside in the driveway. But he pressed in to meet me. I carried on with my ‘hot yoga in the yard without the yoga’ workout and just kept seeing pictures of these fresh pieces of old tree being buried in the ground. I kept thinking, “What the heck does that mean? WAIT, don't tell me yet!”

I came inside, got kids up from naps, played trains and cars and tickle time, made dinner, put kids to bed, then started in on doing the dishes. And as I am standing there washing the stupid huge pile of dishes-that-never-end in the sink I hear the Lord singing over me:

“There is no one else for me

None but Jesus”

Over and over and over again. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. No one but Jesus.

So I did what a lot of people do… I looked in the freezer for some ice cream... which is probably like my version of porn – satisfies for a second but leaves you feeling just as crappy and regretful. There wasn’t any ice cream. I thought about making pancakes… at 10 PM? I just couldn’t rationalize that. So this is me saying,

JESUS! THERE IS NO ONE ELSE FOR ME – ONLY YOU! HERE I AM, I WANNA MEET YOU.

Why do I wait? Why do I resist? What am I hanging on to? What pain is worth holding close more than you Jesus? Why am I afraid of you?

So now I am back out at the hole in the ground crying out, “Meet me here God!” And instead of my colorless and dimensionless swirl of emotion, I am caught up in the whirlwind of his presence and love. Suddenly it’s not a hole in the ground, but the hole in my soul. And he is swirling around it with fire, throwing seeds of new life and fresh identity into the place where the pain is trying to swallow me. His whirlwind is leveling the ground, and He’s filling the void with Jesus. He is making me whole.

I wonder if grieving isn't about getting to the place where you don’t think about the pain anymore so you can move on. I think it’s a process where I get to walk every step with the Lord; and when I step in a hole, allow him to flurry around it, bringing the fruit of new life and identity into even the most painful places in my heart, and heal it. It’s not about forgetting or “getting past it,” it’s really not about any destination. It’s about allowing myself to go there with him in everything, and letting him BIRTH his life and identity out of my shoveled up soil. It's about being set free in that place. This is what Jesus died for – the reconciling of every crooked place, the leveling of the rough places to become plane. Every place of pain can intersect with healing, and in Christ our identity is already established as completely full.

Grieving is a beautiful mess when we walk it with Jesus, no matter how dark, deep, scary or ugly the hole is.

 

If you see me and I happen to be a sobbing mess, you’ll know this is where I’m standing.

In the quiet
In the stillness
I know that You are God
In the secret of Your presence
I know there I am restored
When You call I won't refuse
Each new day again I'll choose

There is no one else for me
None but Jesus
Crucified to set me free
Now I live to bring Him praise

In the chaos in confusion
I know You're sovereign still
In the moment of my weakness
You give me grace to do Your will
When You call I won't delay
This my song through all my days

All my delight is in You Lord
All of my hope
All of my strength
All my delight is in You Lord
Forever more