In Response to "Grief"

I've subscribed to an online community of bloggers made up of women on the mission field and ministry. A few days ago, a blog on grief was featured.

http://velvetashes.com/the-grove-grief/

I almost didn't read it. The title itself salt to my gaping wound. But I felt a small still voice whisper, "read it."

So I did.

Grief.

A younger version of me, bonded quickly, deeply, sure that souls bound together once would stay bound forever.

The older version of me is wary, aware of hurt, aware of promises to stay in touch and the absolute reality of time, distance, and life moving on.

Friendship hurts. People hurt. Missions hurts.

Moving off the mission field for a time of redirection, transition, rest, makes me aware of relationship in keener, sharper ways.

People move on.

For me, coming home has been a time of sorrow in the midst of joy. Seeing people long-lost, once homesick for, and then reeling from the disconnect. At the same time, trying to stay connected with new friends and family in the countries and places you've left behind, finding that you get lost in the gaps made by time difference and the pressures of what is absolutely necessary in their lives.

I have cried myself to sleep countless times, the black of loneliness descending in those most hollow, empty moments, before I drift off to sleep. Sometimes clinging to the reality that God is holding me as I fall asleep in His arms. Other times, in darker moments, feeling an utter disconnect from my heavenly Father.

Grief is definitely, undeniably hard.

It is also necessary. To quote, "Grief is a herald, proclaiming someone or something mattered to you."

Before I left the field, someone said to me, "It will be hard, but grieve well."

It is easier to want to build a bridge, to walk over the chasm of emotion roiling deep inside.

Easier, but not better.

I don't really know how to grieve. I just know that I do. Sometimes, it is good to let the tears, even the anger, rush forth. Other times, when despondency crashes in, it is necessary to lift my head, and praise, walk forward into what God has for me.

I don't like to grieve. But it's important. It means that I have loved. And, oh so unfortunately, that something I love has been taken from me. I have experienced loss. People, places, cultures, situations, that have helped form me, birth me into who I am today, they matter. Even though they are not physically part of my life anymore, I will carry them forever woven into my soul.

So grief. Good. Bad. Neutral. I'm honestly not sure. But there is still hope.

I was reading another post today (http://www.jessxshin.blogspot.ca/), of someones reflection over the last year of transition. There were dark moments, dark days, but at the end, there was hope.

As there should be. We serve a God who is the giver of life, the bringer of hope, the healer. And this is the God I serve. I choose to walk in His ways. In time, I will see, know, hope, healing, even in the midst of grief.