The unity of grief

Most people have gone through tough times in their lives.  Be it deaths, broken relationships, illnesses, mistreatment, betrayal...  I feel like grief leaves wounds that never completely close.  Oh, they fade, and through the grace of God any heart can heal, but memories will always linger.

But the up side of grief, if I may speak simplistically, is that because it is so universal, it can be shared.  No two stories are ever going to be the same.  No two griefs will ever perfectly match.  But two wounded hearts can share the pain and the peace that their stories have brought.  (I remember the first time one of my friends lost a brother after I'd lost mine, thinking, "Finally, I can offer words of encouragement so they know they're not alone."  But afterwards I realized--it was just as uncomfortable and sad and distinctly Not As Comforting As I'd Wished as the other times.  Even if it feels like you have all things in common, another soul's grief can never be fully entered into.  So words of hope and encouragement are always beneficial, not just from people who know.)

Remember after 9/11?  People would gather to share their stories, their hurts, and to begin the healing by acknowledging that their pain was not theirs alone.  In its individuality, it was universal.  School shootings and natural disasters are like that too, but often when people endure sorrow on an individual scale, they don't share like they might if others were going through the same experience.  Often we keep individual griefs closed in, as if our pain might inconvenience others.

This is a stock photo because obviously I don't actually take pictures when people are grieving.

I've been thinking about that recently.  A woman I know recently had this to say about her journey through grief.  (I would never just link someone's random post, but she wrote this to be shared, and to be a thread of comfort to others.  Her journey from grief means giving up rights to her story, as it were, if it means someone could be helped by it.)  I would recommend reading it, by the way.  I'm not going to lie--I cried when I read it.  I've never lost a child, but I'm a human, so I reacted to her suffering.
And that's the way it should be.  At work, this sparked a lot of discussions.  We all shared a little about the sad times we've gone through in our lives.  I've worked there for more than a year and this was the first time I'd mentioned my brother to some of them.  Everyone had a little piece of grief to offer, and in every offering, the burden was made just a little lighter to bear.

Of course...  I really haven't gone through as many tough times as some.  All things considered, I've gotten off pretty easy on the grief scale.  But that's my point--people can share grief, even if it's not the same.  Even if I haven't suffered as much as you, it doesn't mean that we can't be a comfort to each other.  And, most particularly if we're both believers, we have so much comfort to give each other.  I remember being much impacted by a story of grief told by a man I knew, who, instead of focusing on his own grief, reminded me that none of our suffering compares to the Lord's suffering.  And it's not just that He suffered, He suffered for our sakes.  So we can stand together, and with certainty that overshadows grief, say that My Redeemer Lives.  It's not like that takes away the earthly pain we experience, but it causes our hearts to focus on the One Who can bear our pain in the toughest moments.  Because sharing pain and grief with others will never compare to the lightness that comes with sharing our burdens with the Lord.

I love it!

Not to go all Job on everyone (ever notice that Job talks about the weather pretty much all the time?), but the weather here is fantastic.  It was cold over the weekend, in the 40s, and I had to shut my bedroom windows so we could turn on the heat in our house.  It was a sad moment for me, as I try to acknowledge winter only when November rolls around.

But today is fantastic.  It's in the upper 60s and I just want to run across a field in my barefeet.  I just may do that, in fact.  My birthday falls on a Sunday this year, so I'm taking today as my fake birthday.  I slept in, haven't done a single virtuous thing all day, went to two bookstores and the library.

A marvelous birthday gift to myself, I must admit.

But seriously.  This weather.  I, like Job, shall call it "Fair weather" and declare it came from the North.  Obviously, I'm directionally challenged and don't know my left from my right or my North from my South, but it's fantastic, no matter where it originated.

Sunshine

I love the sunshine. Driving to work this morning I got a little foretaste of what winter is going to be looking like in a bit, and, as sad as I was about winter (bad drivers, huzzah!), I loved the look of the day. The trees had just enough frost on them to look "fuzzy," and the sun was having a hard time coming up (I feel his pain. I hate waking up, too) and everything was misty, moisty, and magical.

There's just something about looking at a misty valley (well, OK, it's not exactly a valley, but there is a distinct valley-like thing near this airport I pass on my way to work) and reveling in the fact that it's by the breath of God that frost is given.

Oh, and I'm reading Job right now. That always makes me love the weather just a little bit more.

Treasures of the snow

Where I live, it snowed last night. Now, I figured it would snow at some point in late March/early April, as it always seems to, but I must admit to being not-so-pleasantly surprised when the snow came. It wasn't too bad (my mom measured at our house, I guess, and we got two inches), but it was all icy, and stuck to my car like crazy. Which was fine, except for the fact that it took about 10 minutes to scrub off my car this morning before work.

Obviously it reminded me of Job 38:22. "Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? Or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail...?" I know that word is hail, but I like to think that it's secretly about all forms of ice. There's just something about the sparkling world of ice that makes me feel like God made it specially for our enjoyment. He didn't have to give water the ability to freeze. I mean, He could have made science a whole lot different, if He'd chosen. But rather, He made water freeze into tiny droplets of promise. Light shines through the ice to reflect sunlight all around.

Funny how much I like winter once I know it's nearly finished.

Memory days

Today, my brother would have been 23 years old. I can hardly believe that so many birthdays have come and gone since he passed away. I must admit to not having felt very melancholy about it today--it was just another day for me. But even as I have days that are just like all the rest, I have in the back of my mind that I had a brother, but no longer. Well, I still have a brother, but not this exact one.

I can't really think of what else to add. Other than that the odd mix of emotions that I stir up by thinking about it are always confusing to me. Sometimes it irritates me that I've moved on as completely as I have, and other times it irritates me that it still makes me sad. The passage of six+ years is by no means a reason for me to stop caring or thinking about it, but there are so many other problems to consider other than the death of my brother that it's odd to me that I still dwell on it at all. But, I figure that if I feel like being sad, then I will, and that's that.

But today wasn't such a day. Today was a day where I was thankful for the memories I have of us, and the memories I'm making with the rest of my family these days.

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the Name of the Lord.