“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was Grief.”
There is an old shed at my family’s farm, next to the charming yet weathered plantation home that sits overlooking the taro fields, giant pummelo, towering avocado, tilting mango + verdant tropical flora that meanders throughout the property. At first glance, the dilapidated shed looks beaten down, tattered + without much use. As I stepped in through its large open entryway two days ago, I was surprised to find so much life. The split leaf philodendron + monstera, with their vibrant lumbering leaves roam throughout the crags + cracks of the room, broken slots in the roof have fed + nourished the plant life as this shed slowly returns back to nature. Peace permeates the quiet space. I wonder what stories the shed would whisper of her purpose throughout the years. She is a tangible way for me to grasp how life both blooms + dies, returning to the land.
I’ve been mulling over the topic of grief the past few months as I journey with close friends through life’s deep valleys + grieve my own personal health issues in a time when everything truly feels out of control. Anger. Spite. Scorn. Disbelief. Depression. Acceptance. Peace. Then Grief. Then all those emotions again have jolted me awake early in the morning + tapped at my door late into the night. Grief is a heavy, triggering word and yet it deserves a place at the table. Grief has shaped my story in ways I would never have wanted and in this place of brokenness, Jesus has shown me that while grief is a part of my story, it’s not the whole story.
“Jesus wept.” John 11:35
Jesus knew incredible sadness from what I’ve read. He made space to feel and process deep pain. He met people in their pain and mourning, and walked alongside them. He didn’t avoid pain – He rose up and met it. In my own life, I want to make space to name my emotions, feel them, process through them; in faith, come out on the other side of this. Believing there is power in journeying through pain.
This season in particular I’ve been exploring the intersection of grieving the hardship we experience in this life, while making space for the hope of what’s to come. God’s promises to us, his power to speak life into the darkest, most hurting corners of our being, and our world. The slow, seeping in joy that might feel like a trickle. Quietly, over time, etching away at the pain. Revealing his glory.