God In Our Grief

God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, no sorrow, nor crying. Revelation 21:4

Despite it's universality, when sorrow comes to us, each of us is certain that no one has ever suffered such a keen sense of loss. And it is at that point that we can allow a poisonous self-pity to enter. Anger at God then often quickly follows. 

But when we shut our heart against our friends and family and allow bitterness to creep in, we are, in a tragic way, insulating ourselves against the healing and re-energizing love of God. 

I was saved from such isolation by a miracle of God's grace and by the loving church congregation that surrounded me. I use the word "miracle" because my basic nature has been that of fleeing encounters with people whenever possible. Yet somehow I was strengthened to will myself to return to church the Sunday immediately following Peter's death, to sit in the pastor's pew as usual (though at times during the service I could not stop the tears), and thereafter to open wide the door of our manse-home to a procession of friends.

:: Catherine Marshall

Good morning September, again

I woke up this morning from a dream about Peter Furler, not Phil Joel mind you, Peter Furler. I'm pretty sure it was a younger version of him, but just the same, why him?
He couldn't be less like the person that usually claims my dreams. But I'd rather dream about some Christian Music "has been" then waste dreams on things (people) I already know didn't think I was worth sharing dreams with. There I go again, slipping up... I'm trying, I promise... I'm trying to not refer everything back to him, not to rehash what happened last year, not to start hurting every few minutes. I'm trying not to let self pity make you hear one more story of my broken heart. I'm trying....

Every day I look at myself in the mirror and force myself to get past every thought that's written on my face...
I make myself pull on my clothes & close the bedroom door. I look out the window as I head down the stairs and I act like the changing of the seasons is mine today, not tethered to a memory.
 I eat breakfast acting like I'm not thinking of your favorite foods and how I was learning to make them.  The calender says September and I force myself to remember it's almost always been my favorite month. 

I try to shove myself into work with the same passion I've always had, but the passion now only applies to the work on the desk and...wait, I would be lying to day that I don't have passion for my work, for the things I have spent my life learning to care about. I am devoted to changing something about this world, just enough to maybe allow someone else to re-think their ways of coping with the same pain's I know. If anything, that is one thing I am more sure of than before, I know now more than I ever have, that I do care about what I'm doing with my life.

So to say I'm trying is more than fair... I'm trying to be a better person, most times. I know more strongly than ever what I'm passionate about, I know I'm passionate about it because I'm willing to sacrifice greatly for it.  I know I will get better someday because even though last night was a sequence of memories of you everywhere I turned, this morning I got up again, I didn't starve myself, I didn't cry, I haven't walked away and though I'm not always sure who I am right now, I know I must be someone, because I didn't lose myself in you.