Today I write about something that often people don’t want to talk about. Grief. The pain, the process, the seeming insurmountable burden it brings in our hearts.
Beware, it is long but I believe He will use it to bring comfort and hope for someone. I removed the names to protect the innocent ♡ my baby rose.
It is true, it is not fun and I think most of us would rather deal with just about anything else besides grief. Root canal, perhaps?
I hope to share a bit of the healing journey for me around a loss in my small world as a young girl. While, the story is dark, unsightly and would better be suited for a dark closet…that is what the enemy wants. He wants us alone with our secret pain. He doesn’t want us to use our voice to share our stories and also our hope found in Jesus and the freedom that exposed truth brings.
As I have shared before, the heart of this blog is not to share trauma but the process by which we find freedom. The discoveries we make and the journey, both beautiful and hard.
For the past 20 years or so, I have worked through and mourned the loss of my daughter baby rose. The beach and beautiful pink roses have always been part of my expression of her and have helped me to have light in a very dark and scary place. In years past, I would make a trip to the beach each spring to spend time with Jesus and to allow a bit more healing. Traditionally, I would purchase a rose or a bouquet to take with me, depending on what Jesus was speaking to me about at that time. Whether it was embracing a tender part of the story or practicing letting go a little bit more. The beach, the ocean and the beauty of God’s creation were all part of that healing.
Each time I went, and actually several times a year, I would write to my baby rose. I would write my story. I would pour out my regret, me sense of guilt and responsibility and the impossibility of knowing her. The longings and the missing of someone I never really knew.
Grief is an unwelcome visitor, that is true. But grief also tells the story of love that we hold in our hearts. To grieve is to lose something or someone that we cared very much about. Friends, this means we are real. To feel is to be alive, regardless of what those feelings are. Anger screams about some injustice. Sadness means our hearts beat and we did not become what was done to us. Grief also acts as a common denominator between people. I don’t have to know you to be touched by kindred pain we might share. Loss of a spouse, a baby, a home, a childhood…Being one with our grief takes walls down, if we allow it. If I let you see my pain, you will be more likely to allow me a glimpse into yours.
Granted, there are times in the grieving process where we can feel everything BUT human or real. Often we feel too raw to be seen. Too angry to be accepted. Too real, too much, all the time. Honoring the stages of our grief is of utmost importance. We cannot rush through it. It is a journey to be walked whilst paying attention to all the signs along the way.
Ecclesiastes 3 (which we are all familiar with, I think)
There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens…
A time to be born, and a time to die (we don’t like that much)
A time to weep and a time to laugh…
A time to mourn and a time to dance…
The journey of grief transcends all intellectual understanding and we all deal in our own ways. Sometimes, we must do that alone. Sometimes, we must be with someone who will bear witness to the seeming unrelenting sadness that we feel. Sometimes, we draw close to God and other times, we move as far away as we can.
AND…all of that is OKAY. Jesus knows. He was not immune to sorrow, loss or abandonment. He draws near because He knows our pain.
In the early years of my journey I wrote. I wrote and wrote, a closet full of writings. It was my way to heal. It was my way to put pain in a confined space on a piece of paper. After all, the paper was not infinite, it had edges and stopping points. It was safe for me. It could be closed and opened up again when I chose.
I wanted to share just a piece of that with you, if you don’t mind…
As tradition had it, I almost always threw rose petals in the ocean or on the beach or from a cliff when the ocean was raging so high that its beaches didn’t feel safe. This particular time, a friend and I went to the beach. I stole some time away and just walked the beach talking to Jesus. Crying. Arguing with myself. Negotiating. Trading. Writing…and fighting.
1999
“I walked on the beach alone in the dark and scattered my petals along the shoreline. It was difficult to walk away from them tonight. I wanted to go back and collect each and every one and take them home. To preserve them somehow so that I wouldn’t have to let go again. I cried. Not hard tears but tears of permission as I fought the desire to go back and retrieve my precious petals. I challenged darkness in the quiet of my mind. Embracing light and life in a new way. I don’t have to die with you, baby rose- I can live for you.”
“My friend and I united in the night on the beach and sang praise songs to Jesus. Once that especially touched my heart was one called ‘Lord of the Dance’. I loved the words ‘Lord of the Dance’…He is the Lord of my dance. My dances of joy but also sorrow and grief. He is there, dancing in victory because he knows the end. He sees the resurrection. He knows the feeling of being restored to what once was. His father knew everything about losing something in the fight for love, freedom and redemption. I dance this dance as well. I dance, claiming love and freedom and especially redemption. I dance for you my baby rose. I dance for me. I dance with you. I can see you in a light white cotton dress. Graceful and as beautiful as anything that He ever created. I see your cheeks are rosy with life and fresh air and happiness. I see you twirl and spin and dance like a ballerina. Then I imagine you coming closer and closer to me until our fingertips touch and life is restored for a moment. I look at you and you look at me and we need not say anything. Nothing matters accept that we are together for a moment. Even if it isn’t real and even if it doesn’t last, we are together. I will take the moments. ”
My friends, to heal, we must embrace not turn away. We heal when we acknowledge the ghostly thing in front of us. We heal when we do not retreat into our dark-alone-place. When we walk towards and not away, He can help us. This doesn’t mean that all of our moments are face to face with raw grief, but it is a pocket of healing.
I lost count how many letters I wrote to my baby rose and how many nights I cried. How many times, I screamed at God. How many times, I could do nothing but sit. Sit. Breathe. But eventually, the spirit rises and we feel strength beneath us and we can choose the next moment when we can sit with it and let Jesus heal a bit more.
It’s been a long time since that day when we met and we parted but I want to share the hope that it does get better. I don’t necessarily believe that time heals all wounds but I know that it isn’t as sharp. It’s not in the least bit dark anymore. That is Jesus. That is Jesus facing me and sitting with me and allowing me to pour out my guts to Him…and He gives me beautiful gifts. Visions of my little girl at various stages and ages. And in the walking with Him I am always reminded that He’s got her. She is with Him. One day we will meet and THEN all sorrow will be done.
While we live on this earth and abide in this skin, well…we will feel
Feeling is good.
Remember, grief means that we are alive. It means that we are real. It means that we loved so much that it nearly broke us entirely.
But then Jesus. BUT then JESUS.
Grief can sometimes feel like it has the power to take us out, but the truth is, it can set us free.
My prayer for anyone reading this..
You are NOT alone
It will be okay
You ARE strong enough
You can do it
You will heal
You don’t have to do it alone. Reach out, risk being seen. A heart broken that is acknowledged has immense healing affects.
Be Blessed my friends until we meet again- BelovedReborn
