Grief is...
I have heard grief called a great many things.
Grief is an ocean, waters roaring and turbulent, blocking out almost all noise from the outside world, waves crashing over your head until you wonder if you'll ever be able to breath in fully and deeply again. But sometimes it is an ocean still and calm, with a vastness and peace that makes you feel beautifully insignificant.
Grief is a roller coaster, launching you quickly ahead into the unknown, screaming for your life, gripping hard onto anything stable within reach. You whirl around and around a maze of emotions until your head and heart are dizzy. Then things slow down, the track straightens, and slowly you begin a steep ascent toward the heavens. As you ascend, you take in the view-- the trees, the the sky, the people. You notice things that you were too distracted to notice before. You gain a new perspective. And then, without warning, sometimes you plumet back to the depths of despair, spinning and whirling once more in a dizzying array of emotions, hoping that someday you'll make it to the end of the maze, the end of thinking you're at the end only to find another bump in the tracks or bend up ahead.
And eventually you do.
Grief is a rude and unexpected visitor. It is not polite. It does not have good manners. It does not care if its presence disrupts your normal life. It shows up with little to no warning, and after its unwelcome arrival, stays much longer than you desire it to. It's like a house guest that you just can't get rid of, not asking permission to come and stay, but staying anyway. It changes your routines, alters your previously held plans, adds extra chores to your day, and leaves you exhausted. Grief has visited me and come for a stay many times over the last 19 months, and as much as I'd like her to leave and allow me to return to my normal business, sometimes she just won't. There are factors outside of me deciding how long she must stay.
Grief is a teacher. Sent by GOD Almighty, Grief dispenses many lessons to those who are her willing pupils, lessons which are taught best only through her, though many wish for another teacher. Grief has taught me a great many things over the last year and 7 months. At times grief was a harsh instructor, but her severity implanted lessons deep within me, lessons that I will, LORD-willing, carry with me for the rest of my life.
It is my intention over the next couple of months to share some of those lessons with you. I hope to elaborate on ten specific lessons I learned from grief (list compiled from the Griefshare workbook and video course I pariticipated in last Spring). I pray that these entries will give glory to GOD, the author of my story-- even the sad parts, and that they will be an encouragement to those who have and have not experienced the ocean, roller coaster, intruder, and teacher called Grief.
Grief is an ocean, waters roaring and turbulent, blocking out almost all noise from the outside world, waves crashing over your head until you wonder if you'll ever be able to breath in fully and deeply again. But sometimes it is an ocean still and calm, with a vastness and peace that makes you feel beautifully insignificant.
Grief is a roller coaster, launching you quickly ahead into the unknown, screaming for your life, gripping hard onto anything stable within reach. You whirl around and around a maze of emotions until your head and heart are dizzy. Then things slow down, the track straightens, and slowly you begin a steep ascent toward the heavens. As you ascend, you take in the view-- the trees, the the sky, the people. You notice things that you were too distracted to notice before. You gain a new perspective. And then, without warning, sometimes you plumet back to the depths of despair, spinning and whirling once more in a dizzying array of emotions, hoping that someday you'll make it to the end of the maze, the end of thinking you're at the end only to find another bump in the tracks or bend up ahead.
And eventually you do.
Grief is a rude and unexpected visitor. It is not polite. It does not have good manners. It does not care if its presence disrupts your normal life. It shows up with little to no warning, and after its unwelcome arrival, stays much longer than you desire it to. It's like a house guest that you just can't get rid of, not asking permission to come and stay, but staying anyway. It changes your routines, alters your previously held plans, adds extra chores to your day, and leaves you exhausted. Grief has visited me and come for a stay many times over the last 19 months, and as much as I'd like her to leave and allow me to return to my normal business, sometimes she just won't. There are factors outside of me deciding how long she must stay.
Grief is a teacher. Sent by GOD Almighty, Grief dispenses many lessons to those who are her willing pupils, lessons which are taught best only through her, though many wish for another teacher. Grief has taught me a great many things over the last year and 7 months. At times grief was a harsh instructor, but her severity implanted lessons deep within me, lessons that I will, LORD-willing, carry with me for the rest of my life.
It is my intention over the next couple of months to share some of those lessons with you. I hope to elaborate on ten specific lessons I learned from grief (list compiled from the Griefshare workbook and video course I pariticipated in last Spring). I pray that these entries will give glory to GOD, the author of my story-- even the sad parts, and that they will be an encouragement to those who have and have not experienced the ocean, roller coaster, intruder, and teacher called Grief.
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