Thursday, August 22, 2019

Sorrow is a Nebulous & Elusive Companion


It's all so very surreal, unreal, like a bad dream you hope to wake from but can't quite shed.

All this grief surrounding, overflowing, overtaking our very beings.

Sorrow is a nebulous and elusive companion, seeping into every crack, nook, and cranny of body and soul.  It stubbornly refuses to be neatly labeled into steps 1-2-3 or quickly placed inside a storage box for examination at a later, more convenient time.  

The oft-raging, yet sometimes oddly-at-rest emotions can't be separated from our beating hearts, our breathing lungs, our racing thoughts.  

Our very souls.

There is a great heaviness that descends, for grief is heavy laden and seemingly unmovable.  It lodges firmly in place, here to seemingly abide forever.  It crushes the spirit, dulls the mind, slows the body to a grinding halt.

There are no words, this is true.  

Yet something deep within longs to pull those spelled-out-somethings from hiding and print them in black and white so we can look this onslaught straight in the eye, wrestle with the pain, walk through it all, and come out the other end of the dark tunnel, somehow better for the journey, life-lessons gleaned, closer to the Holy Comforter.  

Those words fight to be released, but they seem locked inside, waiting to emerge at the appointed time.  But at some odd juncture, slowly they trickle forth, bathed in tears of disbelief or wrenching sorrow or the utter shock of all that has so quickly unfolded right in front of our helpless eyes.

We begin to tell our stories of sadness, of pain, of loss.  Sometimes the words come haltingly, almost imperceptibly ... and at other moments what is uttered comes pouring out in torrents of a painful yet oddly comforting release.

We are blessed beyond measure if there is another soul to listen quietly, to affirm what is most true about us with the gentle touch of a hand, a silent tear falling, the simple nod of a head, a word of grace and consolation carefully spoken.  Tender friends who refuse to lob Scripture at us, preach unwelcome words, or share their seemingly endless sagas in an effort to make our hard-to-watch pain somehow magically vanish from view.


And then ... there is a Sacred Friend who is so much closer than any earthly loved one could ever be.   

He, far above all others, truly gets what grief and sorrow are all about for He experienced them to a depth that we'll never come close to imagining.

We pour out our pain and He listens with His endlessly compassionate heart.  He whispers, 'peace, be still.'  He opens His arms wide, wounded hands beckoning us to crawl into the security of His strong embrace.  We lean in close to Him as He ministers comfort and hope and peace into the deepest recesses of our troubled souls.

And then, that glorious amazing grace descends gently like a dove.  

Somehow, by His Spirit, we are able to softly sing as we begin the process of releasing the untold burdens that have so quickly accumulated and overwhelmed.  For these unwelcome guests roll onto His shoulders and He carries them away.  And He promises that He'll keep on doing so as we repeatedly hand our tumultuous emotions over to Him, this Holy One who has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Linda

Adapted from a post written four years ago after my dad and grandson unexpectedly died within a few months of each other.

I invite you to share your own stories of sadness, of pain, of loss here in this space today.  You are not alone ...

(1986 - 2019)

38 comments:

  1. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

    God bless.

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    1. Amen, Victor. Our ultimate peace and rest come from His loving heart to our broken hearts.

      All will be well.

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  2. Linda - you wrote this beautifully. It is exactly what we are feeling. Jessica loved and admired you. You had alot in common with your journaling, blogging and both being therapists. You connected on a special level - our tears will turn to laughter at some point. Thanks for being there for me.

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    1. This is what we do, this is who we are.

      We are with you for the long haul. Just like you've been for us, Mah.

      xo

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  3. I stumbled across your blog and really enjoy it because it goes past all the "surface stuff." My mom has been having heart issues and although the grief is not as deep as a death, I'm sure, I'm having a lot of well-meaning people tell me, "That is such a standard surgery. My dad had it and is doing great." I know they mean well and while it is reassuring to hear every single relative I've heard about this morning is thriving in life after their surgery, I long for just one person (which I've had a couple of ladies do this now) to say, "It's your mom. Naturally, you're concerned." I'm sorry for the grief you're going through. Thank you for your ministry of writing.

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    1. Heidi, I am so glad you've found us here. I absolutely hear what you're saying about your mom ... your concerns are valid and real and make absolute sense.

      May you find a strong sense of God's presence as you make your way through this difficult time.

      I find greatest comfort in remembering how faithful God has been in days past. He will not fail us.

      I look forward to getting to know you better in the days ahead. Bless you ...

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  4. You have been on my mind this morning and I was about to email you when your blog came through. My heart is heavy with yours. It is an agony without design. You are not alone. You are loved.

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    1. 'An agony without design.'

      Yeah, I hear this, friend. Surely, there is much we'll never fathom 'til heaven.

      And then? We'll be so entranced with Jesus that everything else will fade ...

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  5. Now all the warm-eyed friends have gone,
    and the house forlornly stilled,
    and I am left so sore alone
    recalling what's been killed.
    There are no words can comfort me,
    there's nothing here to save.
    Is this the vengeful victory
    of an unquiet grave?
    Did the apostles at the Cross
    recall the Upper Room?
    The promise bright, now turned to loss
    and locked within a tomb?
    The hope that lies in sorrow's curse
    is that Good Friday must come first.

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    1. Andrew, trusting that God will bring us all those warm-eyed kindred spirits that we so desperately need to walk alongside us.

      In my work over the years with those with terminal illness or those grieving loss, it's never failed to amaze me how few choose to rise to that kind of invitation. And how many folk simply stop showing up without warning ... or never showed up to begin with.

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    2. Linda, I think that it's fear, when they fall away. Fear that they'll be inadeuate to the situation, and fear that they might see their own mortal future in attending.

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    3. Absolutely spot on, wise friend. And a fear of not knowing what to say or do.

      Sadly, no response relays a message that they never meant to send ...

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  6. There have been many, and I wouldn't know where to start, but God sees and knows all. Grief is common to us all, and it does help to share our deep sorrow with others. SO thankful for the Man of Sorrows, who was so well-acquainted with grief, and who is deeply touched by the feelings of our infirmities. Of all the names He could have referred to the precious Holy Spirit, He called Him the Comforter - He is the God of all comfort. Sorrow and grief can come from so many other situations other than death, too. Divorce, break-ups, severed relationships of all kinds, loss of home, loss of job, so many, many things that cause grief. But, the God of ALL comfort understands them all. Praying for you and your family, Linda.

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    1. I'm glad you're reminding us how many sizes and shapes and colors loss shows up as, Cheryl. It's so necessary to name the impact those losses have had on our lives, to acknowledge their power and pain.

      It's impossible to move ahead in ways that are healthy without fully experiencing their magnitude, lamenting their height and depth, and releasing again and again all to the Lord.

      If we don't, the pile only gets higher, more unwieldy and overwhelming ... and our grief unbearable.

      Bless you for going there today, friend. I'm grateful you're here.

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    2. Linda. All of what you said in this post is so well said. Especially profound - the 2nd and 3rd Paragraph.

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    3. The Lord put you on my mind the last few days, Carol. I love that some words here resonated for you ... and I hope you are well.

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  7. Shedding tears as I type this, Linda. Oh, how your words touched the deepest recesses of my heart and soul, as the losses I've encountered came flooding back. Yes, God will heal us, comfort us, restore us. Continuing to pray for you and yours.

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    1. Yes, the pain reemerges, sometimes at the oddest of moments. A sight, a song, a scent, a word.

      It's hard yet it somehow keeps us tender, empathetic, real, looking toward Jesus.

      Maybe those are the gifts of lament ...

      Blessed are they that mourn this afternoon, Martha. I'm thinking of you ...

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  8. Since reading about the sudden death of your beloved niece, I have whispered your name - Linda- as I pray a cloak of comfort, protection and healing balm to cover you and your family.

    Kate

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    1. Oh Kate, thank you so much. I'm not sure if we know each other, but that 'cloak of comfort, protection and healing balm' is a beautifully apt description of what God is doing in our lives.

      Bless you for reaching out this afternoon. It means the world to me ...

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  9. I was just thinking this morning of some of those unwelcome words that can get thrown at people who are in pain and suffering loss. It only makes the pain go deeper. I am often reminded of a little boy who went to visit his next-door neighbor who just lost his wife. He didn't speak a word but quietly sat with the man and cried with him. Jesus wept. I want to be like Him. Still praying for you and your family, dear Linda. Love and blessings of strength and peace!

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    1. Yes, Trudy. just sitting quietly, listening well, offering few if any words ... and maybe a little something to eat or something warm to sip on.

      Bliss. A healing balm, this visit from heaven ...

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  10. You described grief so accurately, Linda. “Seeping into every crack, nook and cranny” of every area of life is a true picture of sorrow. Grief used to feel like a daily companion for me. My losses happened in bunches but I find, time does heal my pain. I know that is not the case with others so for me, being a realist has its perks. I don’t see things well outside of “today.” Unfortunately, I have one loss that seems presently able to prick at times and it is hard to avoid if I go on FB.

    Prayers of comfort, my friend.

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    1. You're right, Carol ... why do losses seem to happen in bunches?

      And yes, FB can be a painful stone in our shoe, reminding us of losses that are significant and still painful even after time has passed.

      I guess we have to figure if the tradeoff of what we receive is worth the sadness we experience, a hard reminder of what was ...

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  11. Bless you all. God is close to the broken hearted.

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    1. He most certainly is ... I'm so grateful.

      Weekend blessings to you, friend.

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  12. Grief is elusive and just as you describe. So many layered. Deep. Wide. All-encompassing. I think of you often. Know of my support and prayers. Loss, while individually experienced, is commonly shared and understood. You have a circle of love all around you.

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    1. Layers. Yes, you know, don't you.

      And this right here, Barbara -->'Loss, while individually experienced, is commonly shared and understood.'

      Wow. No truer words were spoken.

      Bless you ...

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  13. I think friends, coworkers, and acquaintances don't know what to say to those facing deep and profound grief. These words help to know what NOT to say or do: "Tender friends who refuse to lob Scripture at us, preach unwelcome words, or share their seemingly endless sagas in an effort to make our hard-to-watch pain somehow magically vanish from view." Thank you!

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    1. Laurie, you're so right. When we don't know what to say to someone's who's hurting, what a gift to both when we simply say what's true ... 'I don't know what to say.'

      Saying nothing at all sends a message that causes confusion, disappointment, discouragement.

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  14. This is a beautiful post, Linda! Those friends who just sit with us and love us are so precious, and I especially love that Jesus understands - that he cares about our tears and draws us close. Praying that you know that hope and comfort in him today.

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    1. Aren't you so glad that Jesus truly gets where we are?! I am so grateful. We are never alone in our sorrow, always assured of the Trinity's presence.

      Blessed.

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  15. I've been praying for you and your family, Linda. Such a hard road ahead. And yes, what a blessing it is to have those few around who let you be who (and how) you are as you take each heavy step. This post touched my heart so much, my friend.

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  16. Linda, I continue to pray for you and your family. And I'm sending a virtual hug across the miles.

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  17. Praying God is continuing to make Himself evident. So grateful for that friend that sticks closer than anyone....but I agree there is a genuine ministry is simply listening. We often pull back because we don't know what to say - but we miss the opportunity to just be present. Thanks for sharing - your friend here are listening!

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    1. God is answering your prayer, Jennifer ... He is making Himself evident, present, warm, and comforting.

      And He's sent His people my way ... I am so grateful for the avalanche of support and kindness.

      I'm looking at you!

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