A Season of Grief ~ Death Stinks

Words. There are none.

A speechless writer is an overwhelmed writer.
Some things are too elusive to pen.

Not to worry. It will eventually find its way out. If there's one thing about writers its that they must bleed on the page. To keep things trapped inside is suicide.

Sunday. The day I found renewed freedom in Christ. The day Jesus's love flowed unhindered in my heart. The day I praised God from the depths of my soul. The day in which I dove into the Lord's Supper, feeding my soul and quenching my thirst with Jesus.

Sunday. The day I lost one of my best friends. The day when my heart became suspended in shock. The day my mind cried "NO! No, no, no!" to God. The day she danced in my mind - her voice, her laughter. Her smile, her sparkling eyes. Her arms holding me. The gift of her tender love comforting me. The day I changed forever.

Every person who enters your life leaves their fingerprints on your soul. Every person whose life you enter are forever marked with your fingerprints on their soul. It's how God made us. We are not islands unto ourselves. Do we think about the impact we make on others? What kind of DNA are we leaving behind? What kind are we allowing in our lives? Is it life giving or life sucking?

Michelle's DNA added life to mine. Her death threatens to suck it right out of me. That's what death does. Thank God for precious memories! They make my heart hurt and yet sing. They threaten to pull me under, yet give me buoyancy to float. I'm okay with her being in heaven, yet I hate that she's not here with me. I want to absorb her pictures one moment and throw them away the next. Sometimes I want to do both at the same time. One thing is for sure. I will forever be glad God created her and placed her in my life even if I feel my time with her was too short.

This makes me think of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. In looking toward the cross, he was looking at separation from all those he loved. His family, his disciples, and most of all his Father. No wonder he cried, "Father, let this cup pass from me." Yes. Jesus knows all about grief. And as painful as it is, I need to be able to say with Jesus, "Not my will, but thine."

Grief. It's a strange creature. How I long for God to turn my mourning into joy.

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