“Just wanna know that You still know how many hairs are on my head.
Oh, great God
(Are You small enough?)
Be small enough to hear me now”
— Nicole Nordeman, “Small Enough”
Where am I, who am I now?
I heard the song lyrics above today for the first time, and they really captured where I feel I’m at. I still have faith. I still know God is here, with me in my grief, this grief that still feels so big to me. But when I am in those dark moments, the best way I can explain it is that I feel like a dying star. I feel like I am collapsing into myself. I feel like I can’t make myself small enough. And I want to feel God with me in that small space.
I went to a healing mission last night at my church. I prayed a rosary, journaled my conversation with God, cried, went to reconciliation, cried some more, and prayed another rosary in Christ’s presence. I know He’s healing me. But it’s not as fast as I want. I keep reminding myself that if I had been literally hit by a bus, no one would expect me to be back to myself yet. There might be injuries I would have to deal with for the rest of my life. Why should this be any different?
I am making progress. I smile more. My heart is so full it aches when I hold my here-boys. I know I am blessed.
But I’m still hurting.
* * * * *
Today feels like fall, finally. There’s a chill and a breeze that makes my wind-chimes sing.
The crape myrtles are the first to shed their leaves, though they were the last to gain them.
And as the leaves fall, I am reminded that God can make beauty even of dying.
* * * * *
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Julie,
It will always be with you, but with God’s grace you will be able to carry the grief.
Love,
Aunt Judy
Julie, dear poet, dear friend, dear lovey lovely spirit:
You are the essence of the Spirit to me; the beautiful parent with a grief that only a parent can know…the grief that no parent should ever have to know, but He knows it and you know it so tremendous in its weight, so blinding at times, so vacating… I can not express it adequately–this large and terrible sadness I feel for you. Still, you have faith in Him and He has faith in you: all that you are, all that you have been, and all that you will be with Him holding your hand all the while. It feels hard to imagine sometimes, but I’ve come to realize that in the times I’ve felt the most absence of His Spirit… those are the times I now see Him and/or Her to have been the most present, the most knowing and guiding and loving… else I would have never made it this far in life… by God’s grace I live on–with my survivor’s grief, and guilt, and huge absence. No one approaches the grieving if they believe they will only increase the grief by talking about it; sometimes, talking does bring out the grief, but sometimes, most times for me, it is through talking or writing that the grief can be recognized for all it is, can be respected fully, and can be finally released… as much as anyone can ever fully release their grief. I’ve been fortunate to let go of a lot of bad past in this life; a lot of good past I fear has gone as well. I pray God will show us how to reach out and grasp hold of the hope he offers… not a false hooe, but the hope that keeps life and love united in us always. Through love always and through love alone, we live eternally.
Eternally your friend, the quiet one, the one who hardly ever knows the right thing to say…
Beth