I’ve sat through session after session, in retreat following retreat, and listened to the first words spoken in Grief of Loss and Transition workshops.
I’ve written them down.
It started so I would remember them.
At this point, I quote them often to myself.
My soul needs to hear them regularly.
When spoken out loud, they seem to quiet my anxious heart in the midst of loss, transitions, the in-between-new-normals.
The words speak to a simple matter of fact; but, they give my heart permission to grieve.
And, when we are feeling “lost in the middle” of life, there isn’t much more needed than permission.
We live in a world of “sanitized” Christianity.
“How are you doing,” we are asked…
And, we know, the one doing the asking doesn’t want the real answer, not really.
The real answer is messy.
The real answer takes our time to listen; time away from the next thing on our to-do-list.
We all understand this dilemma….
Yet, we all long for permission to unload…and we all WANT TO BE HEARD!
The words I tell myself aren’t profound.
The permission given isn’t going to be earth-shaking.
Yet, for those dealing with grief, loss, and transition, these words breathe LIFE!
Here they are:
With that said: permission granted.
If we don’t feel the permission to grieve, no matter what the loss – be it large or small in the eyes of the world – we will experience chronic grief.
What do I mean by chronic grief?
This:
Obviously, this takes time. And, we need to be gracious to give ourselves that needed time.
It’s also not a linear process…
But, when our bodies live, move, and breathe, but our souls feel trapped (the effect being a place of emotional and spiritual “stuck-ness”), we need to hear that it’s OK to work the process…
Just as shame has been described as “the swampland of the soul;” grief over loss might look more like “the quicksand of our spirits.”
And, the only way to advance is to walk through it, holding onto a rope, a lifeline of hope – and, sometimes, it will look AND FEEL as if we’re being dragged forward as we cling tightly to that rope.
The next few posts detail my own journey…
I can’t speak for others; and, this is not a sure-fire-guarantee; but, I walked the course, and came out on the other side…
So, for what it is worth, this is my pilgrimage.
As we headed for Africa, and the few years we were privileged to serve there, I knew I would be saying good-bye to MUCH on this side of the globe.
I knew not to expect life to look the same.
In many ways, I prepared my heart for those things that would be different.
It wasn’t easy to hug our family and church-friends as we boarded the plane in Durango; but, we knew that was coming…
There were other things I’d been prepared for – I couldn’t make a phone call at a minute’s whim; I couldn’t run to a store any time I needed something; eating out at restaurants would be few and far between (and there would definitely be no McDonald’s or Burger King); shopping at a mall? well, what mall?
What I wasn’t prepared for were all the changes in coming “back home.”
I expected to step back into life as it once was…
I expected friends to still be friends…
I expected people to care about where we’d been, what we’d been doing, what life was like…
I expected shopping in malls and grocery stores and eating out in restaurants to be enjoyable…
But, things had changed over the years; life on US soil had moved forward without me…and, I was definitely grieving the loss the change brought, but feeling foolish and guilty, for feeling that way.
So, what’s the answer when you’re a good missionary, a follower of Jesus, and one who trusts the Lord in all things, knowing that He uses all things for GOOD in the life of His children?
You bottle it all up! Of course, you do!
But, no one warns you, that when you keep pretending everything is all OK, implosion happens.
So, add up all the changes I’d experienced in overseas living, to all the changes I was experiencing back in the US, along with other losses, and trauma (the violent death of a friend), and one good-bye-followed-by-another and what you get is a good case of depression — emotional quicksand.
I’m grateful that mission organizations have really stepped up their game when it comes to Member Care.
I’m particularly thankful for organizations who travel and speak to missionaries, realistically and practically giving biblical answers for the deep soul-wounds many carry. I’m overly thankful to be a part of some of them.
Those weren’t available during those days…or at least I wasn’t aware of them.
My journey was slow, steady, and progressive…but, it was a bit like wandering in desert-wasteland…
One of the first, and most helpful stops as I began asking the Lord to show me the way “out,” was in the Psalms.
I started reading David’s prayers.
I loved his honesty.
I admired how he talked to the Lord about all the things that he struggled with…he listed them…he lamented his losses!
Reading through the psalms gave me permission to offer up prayers of lament to my God.
I recognized through David’s writings that it was safe to talk to God about EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING.
God was not only big enough to handle it; He wanted to hear my heart.
If David could whine and not be struck down, or chastised for it, and still come out of his messy-mess being called a “man after God’s heart,” then maybe I could do the same.
I looked at David’s formula…
1) He brought his situation before God…
2) He told the Lord what He’d like for Him to do about it…
3) But, in the end, David declared his trust…rehearsed God’s character to himself…and spoke truth to his soul.
Psalm 13 was one of my favorites during this time (see excerpts below):
I’m hurting, Lord—will you forget me forever?
How much longer, Lord?
Will you look the other way when I’m in need?
How much longer must I cling to this constant grief?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
I’ve endured this shaking of my soul.
So how much longer will my enemy have the upper hand?
(right now, COVID-19 is a real enemy, leaving us enduring many losses…but so is depression, chronic grief and anxiety)
It’s been long enough!
Take a good look at me, God, and answer me!
Breathe your life into my spirit.
Bring light to my eyes in this pitch-black darkness…
Lord, I have always trusted in your kindness, so answer me.
I will yet celebrate with passion and joy
when your salvation lifts me up.
I will sing my song of joy to you, the Most High,
for in all of this you will strengthen my soul.
Let me encourage you to start with authentic Prayers of Lament. We do have a place to go with our pain, and our sorrow, over change and loss… We can pray it all out before a God, who is a “man of sorrows,” who understands better than anyone what you are experiencing. If you can’t find your words, find them in the Psalms, or in Jeremiah’s words written in Lamentations, even in Habakkuk. Make them your words.
