What Does Grief Look Like at 17 Months ~~~~~ John Piper's daughter talking about dealing with grief over her daughter's stillbirth. I can relate to this in so many ways, though my losses were much earlier. This passage has moved me beyond words:
"I feel like I’ve fought it tooth and nail. But now I’m coming to more of a peace with it. I’m accepting it more. One of my dear friends through this process (who is older and wiser than me, thank God) shared with me recently about a grief she’d been facing in her life. Something she said really stood out to me. She told me, 'I’m gonna drink this painful cup all the way down, just drain it. And I’m gonna ask the Lord to make it something beautiful.' "A Peace She Paid a Price For ~~~~~~~ So much in this post resonates with me. Though my battle has been different from Holley's, the peace she talks about is mine, just the same.
...It’s not the pansy, pie-in-the-sky, life-is-perfect peace. No, this is the kind of peace that comes after war. It’s the hard-won, show-you-my-scars, didn’t-think-I’d-live-to-tell-about-it, peace. It’s not gentle—it’s wild, fierce, and I’m not giving it up, not ever, because I paid too high a price to get it....
...There’s something beautiful about naming and knowing the place where you are in life. I could feel myself sigh inside and say, “Yes, that’s it.” This peace is mine and I can stay there as long as I’d like. I can eat the food, put my feet on the furniture, and invite my friends over.
It was once the land I fought for and pursued. Now it's the place where my heart lives.
It's good to be home.
There Really Ought to Be a Sign on my Heart ~~~~~~~ Now This. This is where I am today. Stephanie, you hit the bullseye for me.
I was struggling.
There are pieces of me that I bare so unabashedly. But those are just pieces. It's not all of me.
I couldn't find my happy place.
I could fall on my knees to pray but down there I was met with crumbs on the carpet and reminded again that I need to vacuum. Then I would just become sleepy.
Some days all I want is to be in a moment- any moment- that is uninterrupted.
There's only so much of me to go around. And I feel like I've been offering up first dibs to all the wrong people and things.
I remember thin and fake wood paneled walls in the upstairs of our old church. The plastic seats and prize bucket if you remembered your verse and brought a friend and your bible.
And this song written big and neat on poster board with colored smelly markers:
He's still working on me to make me what I ought to be.
It took Him just a week to make the moon and stars,
The sun and the earth and Jupiter and Mars.
How loving and patient He must be,
He's still working on me.
"How loving and patient He must be!" I see so much more, am able to feel more compassion, because of my losses and disappointments. I'm starting to see the Big Picture now. It doesn't discount my feelings of grief, but rather, gives them a Purpose.
"In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory." Ephesians 1:11-12