Speaking of Grief

Someone left me a comment that grief is "sneaky". I completely concur.

It sneaks up on you in the most unexpected places at the most unexpected times through the most unexpected memories. And, I guess, that is a good thing, though I do like my life a little neater than that.

I like my Thursday morning routine of writing to bring up memories and seeing if they'll inspire or sadden or anger me for that day. I like to FEEL. I think too many people in this world are busy trying to tamp out what they feel with busyness and addictions and other avoidances.

I just wish my feelings could be in a box that I could open when I wanted to, in front of people I wanted to, in places I would feel most comfortable.

But, that's not how grief works. It has its own agenda and its own time table and its own methods of moving us from Point A to Point B.

So, I have to be grateful for it when it shows up. And go with it, instead of trying to push it back into the box until a more "convenient" time. Even if that time is sub-7:30am, in front of the kids and Mike, over breakfast.

I'm learning to hug my cactus of grief and let the barbs penetrate my skin. I'm learning that, even if I do feel the pain, it is necessary to move me forward to the next experience, which will be easier to take because I've done the work of feeling what needed to be felt, when it was in front of me.

I'm learning that avoidance is the enemy and surrender is the goal.

I'm learning that there is so much I didn't know and so much I wish I could change and so much I have to let God heal.

But I'm also learning that life is just one big lesson after another. Some of them are painful, some are beautiful, some are game-changers in their ability to dig deep into my soul.

The day I stop learning is the day I stop living. And learning to embrace grief is a tough part of living without someone you love.

Is it time for you to start living again? Time to hug that cactus and feel something that is buried deep down?

Though the holidays seem to be the least exciting time to tackle our grief, in reality, in so many ways, it is the best.

We are surrounded by family, many of whom share our deepest feelings of sorrow and emptiness and need a shoulder to lean on. And while they are leaning on us, we can lean on them.

Everywhere we turn, we are constantly reminded of Christ, who can carry us through our grief to a place where the hurt is less. There is no other time of year like this, where Christ is so present that we can't forget He is there.

And while the joy that generally comes from this time of year may not be present in our hearts, it is all around us. The joy is like an ocean we are bobbing in, crying through our pain, safely in our little life vest of Christ.

We can allow the joy to take us under for a moment, without us drowning in it.

We can feel it, even if the joy doesn't fully penetrate our souls.

We can taste of it without choking on it. And just trying to let that little bit of joy in is good. Healthy. Right.

And in no, way, shape or form is trying to embrace joy equivalent to us forgetting those we've been parted from.

Take it from someone punctured by grief: the first step toward joy is the hardest. But every subsequent step is one of healing.

Try a step during Advent. Just one.

And let the healing begin.