Grief
Grief
It rolls in with silence.
It overtakes your being; cluttering your mind and stilling your being.
You try to busy yourself to shew it away. You mark off your to-do list not with vigor but as if lifting another weight. Thre is no working it away or sleeping it away, or closing your eyes wishing it away. You must stand and welcome the grief before it can be released.
Today is a day where grief has rolled in and settled into my core, into the places where it is begging for me to close my eyes in hopes that it might just disappear when I awoke. It has settled into the depths of my mind leaving me searching and longing for assurance. Grief has made each conversation and task feel as if it just might break my very being.
In 5 short days, we'll be leaving St. Louis to return home to our sweet mountain. This city that seemed like a foreign land just 8 weeks ago has become home for Emma and me. Unfamiliarity gave way to confidence. I've developed a routine and gained friends over the weeks. This place has become a place of security and transformation.
Not only am I grieving the friends, familiarity, and joy that has come from being with a 10-minute drive of so many amenities, I am grieving something much more valuable and important. This journey has led us to a life-changing decision; one in which we were not expecting. While in earthly terms it might seem quick decision, it has not been made without seeking our amazing Creator's voice over and over. Assurance and affirmation have been given in a variety of forms but the grief that has overtaken me today is the grief of asking for a change in pastoral leadership that would lead us back to Nashville closer to the resources that would help Emma be the most successful she can be in her journey of recovery.
My heart seems to be frozen today and the weight heavier than I want to carry. I have always believed and trusted that as I put the needs of our family before the life of the church that God would lead and provide for us. In a time when our teenager has shown bravery and courage beyond her years and has begun pouring new wine into the depths of her wineskin, we too are being called to ready ourselves and allow God to pour new wine into new wineskins. New life and transformation cannot happen if we do not allow for a new wineskin to be made. I know that can only occur if we let go of where we are and trust that God is creating something new.
Grief is heavy and unrelenting.
Today I am allowing the grief to roll over me, to welcome it because I know that a balm in Gilead is awaiting my arrival.
It rolls in with silence.
It overtakes your being; cluttering your mind and stilling your being.
You try to busy yourself to shew it away. You mark off your to-do list not with vigor but as if lifting another weight. Thre is no working it away or sleeping it away, or closing your eyes wishing it away. You must stand and welcome the grief before it can be released.
Today is a day where grief has rolled in and settled into my core, into the places where it is begging for me to close my eyes in hopes that it might just disappear when I awoke. It has settled into the depths of my mind leaving me searching and longing for assurance. Grief has made each conversation and task feel as if it just might break my very being.
In 5 short days, we'll be leaving St. Louis to return home to our sweet mountain. This city that seemed like a foreign land just 8 weeks ago has become home for Emma and me. Unfamiliarity gave way to confidence. I've developed a routine and gained friends over the weeks. This place has become a place of security and transformation.
Not only am I grieving the friends, familiarity, and joy that has come from being with a 10-minute drive of so many amenities, I am grieving something much more valuable and important. This journey has led us to a life-changing decision; one in which we were not expecting. While in earthly terms it might seem quick decision, it has not been made without seeking our amazing Creator's voice over and over. Assurance and affirmation have been given in a variety of forms but the grief that has overtaken me today is the grief of asking for a change in pastoral leadership that would lead us back to Nashville closer to the resources that would help Emma be the most successful she can be in her journey of recovery.
My heart seems to be frozen today and the weight heavier than I want to carry. I have always believed and trusted that as I put the needs of our family before the life of the church that God would lead and provide for us. In a time when our teenager has shown bravery and courage beyond her years and has begun pouring new wine into the depths of her wineskin, we too are being called to ready ourselves and allow God to pour new wine into new wineskins. New life and transformation cannot happen if we do not allow for a new wineskin to be made. I know that can only occur if we let go of where we are and trust that God is creating something new.
Grief is heavy and unrelenting.
Today I am allowing the grief to roll over me, to welcome it because I know that a balm in Gilead is awaiting my arrival.
Beautifully felt and said. Grief is relenting and when we allow it to have its natural time and space, the balm in Gilead becomes that much more real, healing, and restoring.
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