After I came home from Pa over Thanksgiving, I was surprised to find this low grade depression hanging over me. Though, as I shared in my last blog post, I sensed our family was settling into a new normal now that the dust has settled from all that’s transpired in our family and that even though, it was good, there was this overlaying presence of grief from the loss of my mother catching me off guard. Not catching me off guard that I’d miss her presence around the table but that I’d be grieving her still.
I know that might not sound surprising to you that I’d still be grieving but to me, (the person who has grieved off and on for the past four years) sometimes you just get tired of carrying this weight. And sometimes you just don’t want to cry about the loss anymore because it’s over. It’s in the past. How much more do I have to cry? Sometimes, I just want to be a person who’s able to talk about loss without falling apart. I know that might be a cultural sign that we don’t know how to grieve well or allow space for tears in conversation with others because, let’s be honest, it makes some people uncomfortable.
I’m an upbeat person by nature and prone to a joyful, positive outlook on life and grieving doesn’t fit too well in that disposition. I have grieved over the illness and death of my mother, yes and it felt right and good during that whole season but this lingering sadness I think is harder on me then grieving in the moment was. Part of me is like, “Wait? Why are we still here? I thought I grieved and am moving on.” But this grief keeps sneaking in the back door. It keeps coming back and my happiness feels jeopardized by it’s pull.
There have been days when something would hit me and I would full on bawl my eyes out and have this whole moment and then think, “Wow, that came out of know where. I didn’t know that was in there or if I’ll ever cry like that again.” And I assume I’m moving through the worst of it and that maybe from now on I’ll just experience little crys or small waves of grief but grief is such a strange thing and you never know when or how hard it’s going to hit. Yet even more recently I’ll have these big emotional moments.
I’m unexpectedly tearing up just writing this and caught off guard by my tears. They’re surprising me. Losing someone so close is a wild, new experience. I wonder if it’s because one time I’m thinking or talking about my mom and not stirred emotionally and then the next time I’m utterly astounded I’m getting chocked up. Like times when I’m with a friend or my kids and talking about a small, silly memory and then, wham!, suddenly I’m hit by a monstrous wave and need to catch my breath.
When I think about it, this holiday season is only the second one we’re experiencing without mom. Of course her being gone is still kinda new. Though I’d rather spend my days thinking about happy parties, cookies and wrapping gifts, I am reminded that I’m not the only one carrying a new-ish (and for some people an old) loss this Christmas.
At times I feel so alone in my sadness when Christmas is supposed to be happy time. I know not everybody going through the same thing I am, so I get that this post isn’t for everybody. But some of us are experiencing a grief of some kind and if that’s you, then may you find a companion in these words. This season of unpredictable ups and downs, of paradoxes and metaphors, know you don’t have to make sense of your emotions and experiences.
If I could just make myself not be sad during this joyous season, if I could shelf my feelings and focus on the awe and wonder of Christmas, especially for my children or if I fill my schedule with fun and festive things to feel the holiday spirit I might outrun the grief tugging on my sleeve. Maybe I need to read advent books to be inspired and find new meanings and depth from an old familiar story to distract the pain I’m feeling and keep me focused on the baby in the manger.
I think I know what I need.
But that’s not my greatest need.
My greatest need is to experience grace. I don’t have to flee from my feelings or the grief that’s an ever present shadow. No trying to figure out how to grieve right or how to manage it. No dealing with imposter syndrome of looking happy while my heart is heavy (though sometimes you just do that anyway).
We need grace that tells us we can rest in Jesus, the God man that came to save us from all our sin and sadness. We need grace that allows room for grieving even when it feels like it’s going against our grain of how we prefer to feel, when it’s going against the message of the culture. We need grace in our wilderness when we feel all alone and nobody understands and when I just want to call my mom. We need grace as we desperately seek rest in our sorrow. May we be assured that God will find us.
I am reminded that even though I feel alone in my grief, Jesus experienced loss too. He knows what it’s like to lose somebody he loves. Remember Lazarus? Jesus mourned at his death. He loved him, his friend. Jesus knows our suffering and we can find comfort in that he’s lost someone special to him too.
Not only Jesus understands. I think about what it must have been like for God to watch his very own son die. Jesus not only died but he also suffered an excruciating amount of physical and emotional pain. I’m sure that was hard for God to watch as his son bled and cried and died. Our Father sees our pain and is right there with us. He hasn’t abandoned us. He’s loved us with an everlasting love the same way he loved his son while he went through suffering and even death.
It was all part of the plan though. All along God planed that Jesus would come and die so that we could experience grace. His death was the means of grace for us today.
A grace that says you don’t have to appear a certain way this season. You don’t have to do all the Christmas things you’re feeling pressured into doing. You don’t have to read an advent book.
There’s grace for you to feel your grief and let it have it’s way – either with people or alone in the bathroom. There’s no right or wrong way to be a person who’s grieving.
In our desperate search for grace, may we come to the end of ourselves and find that we can’t give ourselves what we need. Because our greatest need is fulfilled in Christ. We can’t fix ourselves or change who we are. God’s grace is for us in our grief, just as we are, even when we’re still falling apart. We’re allowed to be who we are. You’re allowed to cry, stay home, walk away and/or celebrate this season. God’s grace is sufficient for us and we don’t have to pretend otherwise if grief is showing up at the party tonight. There’s room at the table for both.
Jeremiah 31:2-3
Thus says the Lord:
“The people who survived the sword (hard things/loss)
found grace in the wilderness;
when Israel sought for rest,
the Lord appeared to him from far away.
I have loved you with an everlasting love;
therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.
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Write it on your heart, God has continued his faithfulness to you.
– amen
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On this blog I aspire to inspire hope, to discover a new way, another way to do this Christian’s life.
Because, maybe the old way isn’t working anymore.
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Jolynn Friesen 