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 hands...my grandmother's and my mother's...

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.