Friday, December 4, 2009

Giving Myself Grace to Grieve

     I feel as though I have lived a lifetime in the past two weeks. Time has both compressed and lengthened itself into a unending ribbon of a road. There have been blessings and glimpses of the Glory of God that have nearly taken my breath away, but with the passing of days has come a deep weariness that is settling over my soul. I know that I need to grieve and unfortunately, for me, this is problematic. Even though I firmly believe in the Biblical truth that there is indeed a time to rejoice and a time to mourn, in my family of origin strength is considered paramount. Any sign of weakness is often suppressed or carefully disguised. And so that makes it very difficult to grieve. Part of me wishes for the days when one could put on sackcloth and ashes and rend one's garments. It was an outward sign of an inward condition. The garments were torn because the heart was torn. And today my heart is torn. I am sad. I know all of the right things to believe and say and do, and yet, I am still sad. I miss the presence of a person that has been in my life for as long as I can remember, and I am doubly sad as I am watching my 80-year-old mother cope with her own defining loss.  In my head, I can work it all out neatly and tie it up with a bow, but in my heart, I just hurt. So today I am bathing myself in the grace of God that says when we are weak, He is strong.

Two grandmother's and my mother's...
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.


  1. This photo is so precious. And I'll sit in the ashes with you, my friend and cousin and sister. May the shalom of God be manifest to you in a new way in this season.

  2. Your words have made my cry anew. Thank you for bringing the balm of Gilead. I will bless the day when we no longer bury those we love. Come quickly, Lord Jesus, come.

  3. Oh, Kathy. I love the photo of your mom and Lulu's hands. I've always loved looking at hands; hand of a baby on my chest as I nursed him or her, hand of a child holding a crayon for the first time, hand of experience and comfort in the photo above. How sweet the hands who have lived and loved.

    Now dear sister, let your heart break so the Lord can heal it and comfort you as he longs to do. He wants your brokenness and honesty. He knows how sad you are. "The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever— do not abandon the works of your hands."
    Psalm 138:7-8

    Love and miss you.


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