A while back, I came across a project at Still Life with Circles that I thought was worthy of some serious thought. It's basically a look at where you are right now in your grief.
Wow. To try to nail down where I am in my grief seemed just too hard at first. Grief is such an ever-changing process, full of things that jump up out of nowhere and knock you down again. But as I thought it through, I realized the beauty of such a project. Taking a snapshot of where I am now (and even in the months and years ahead) will no doubt highlight some things that might otherwise be overlooked as one day slides into the next.
Right now, I am feeling the weight of all that makes no sense falling hard on my shoulders again. For the second time in just over two weeks, I've watched a friend bury her child. The first is a friend I've known for decades. Her third daughter shares Kristen's exact birthday. The second is a friend I met not long after Kristen died. My heart breaks for both of these women. I wish I didn't know the ache and the longing, the sadness and the tears, the brokenness that accompanies the death of a child. And I most certainly wish my friends didn't know, either.
And yet, here I am, now facing opportunities to live out God's Word in such a real way and so very close to home.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
-2 Corinthians 1:3-4
In all honesty, part of me wants to run away screaming. It's just too much. These situations bring back a flood of my own memories and emotions. Even so, I feel stronger. I don't feel like the wind and waves of these storms bend me to the breaking point like they once did. I've been able to share with these mothers on a level that I've not been able to with even the closest of my friends. That in itself breaks my heart a little more.
Just this week, I led my first GriefShare session. God, in His mercy, led me through it because I certainly didn't feel up to the task, especially given the fact that this particular session was one that dealt with the death of a child. It felt a little strange to be in the leader role rather than the participant role, but it somehow seemed "right."
I still get teary-eyed when I talk about Kristen. I just miss her so very much. No matter how many years and months pass, that will never change. In the same way, the God who gave her to me, the God who has caught every tear, He will never change. He is good, all the time. All the time, He is good.
