She had buried two husbands. I thought she had something to say about how to survive through grief so I listened.
"Do the next thing." She said. "That's what you do. Each day you just do the next thing."
I thought her advice was too simplistic, almost cold to those hurting in her midst. Yet who am I to argue with a woman who has buried two husbands when I haven't buried one. I'm not that stupid and hopefully not that arrogant.
Grief stinks! I've smelled enough of it in my life to know I don't ever want to smell it again, but I don't have that option. To live life is to encounter grief. Whether it's death, the loss of a dream, or childhood innocence, grief comes in all forms, shapes, and sizes. It shows up when I least expect it, and makes me want to run for cover, push it away, ignore its existence, or do anything but look into its ugly face.
But there's the other side of grief. It's what happens when the tears begin to decrease and healing comes into view. Then I realize that grief, although disguised as a villain, isn't really the ugly schmuck I've perceived it to be. The stench of grief dissipates and like the air after a spring rain, it beckons me to take another breath. Grief is a healer.
I don't know what you're grieving today. Maybe nothing and that is good. We need days, months and years like that. But at some point there will be something...maybe something new, maybe something old that deserves your attention. Don't run from the tears, and while you're crying remember, there will be a tomorrow and an opportunity to do the next thing.
"Do the next thing." She said. "That's what you do. Each day you just do the next thing."
I thought her advice was too simplistic, almost cold to those hurting in her midst. Yet who am I to argue with a woman who has buried two husbands when I haven't buried one. I'm not that stupid and hopefully not that arrogant.
Grief stinks! I've smelled enough of it in my life to know I don't ever want to smell it again, but I don't have that option. To live life is to encounter grief. Whether it's death, the loss of a dream, or childhood innocence, grief comes in all forms, shapes, and sizes. It shows up when I least expect it, and makes me want to run for cover, push it away, ignore its existence, or do anything but look into its ugly face.
But there's the other side of grief. It's what happens when the tears begin to decrease and healing comes into view. Then I realize that grief, although disguised as a villain, isn't really the ugly schmuck I've perceived it to be. The stench of grief dissipates and like the air after a spring rain, it beckons me to take another breath. Grief is a healer.
I don't know what you're grieving today. Maybe nothing and that is good. We need days, months and years like that. But at some point there will be something...maybe something new, maybe something old that deserves your attention. Don't run from the tears, and while you're crying remember, there will be a tomorrow and an opportunity to do the next thing.
THANK YOU!!! Somehow as I read this I feel the courage and peace to face grief instead of run from it. What a beautiful word picture of healing!
ReplyDeleteAs a former young widow, may I add one thing, my dear friend, that I learned about grief? Trust God. Again, sounds simplistic, but it really all boils down to trust. Psalm 56:3 says it so well, "Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in Him."
ReplyDelete(And then of course, we will be willing and able to do the next thing.)
Hugs!
So true, Susan. I agree, it does sound simplistic, but oh so hard to do in the midst of pain that blind sides us. I wish I could say that I immediately trust God, but I don't. I usually have a few good temper tantrums because I'm not getting what I want. Then when I'm exhausted and my voice is hoarse from yelling and I finally sit still, I surrender and wish I'd just trusted from the very beginning.
ReplyDelete