I am thankful for grief.
Hear me out…
Grief is love. 🥀
Not, “I once loved,” but rather, “I love still.” I am privileged to have had a love that was so precious, so deep and so sure that the absence of its object cannot stop it’s fire. Grief is love, burning brightly, stubbornly, transcendently, illuminating the dark night of the soul.
Grief is remembrance. 🥀
Not only did I love, but I was loved. Beautifully. Undeservedly. Wonderfully. Grief reminds me of the priceless gifts entrusted to me, if even just for a time. She offers brief visits to a time and place where we didn’t know her; where we lived in blissful ignorance of such pain and loss. Then, back to reality, where she is an ever-present reminder to cherish each moment.
Grief is sanctifying. 🥀
Grief chips away at my pretense and reveals my desperate need for grace. She brings me to my knees. She throws me at the foot of the cross. She strips me of every false identity and causes me to remember who I am and Whose I am. Her hammering and chiseling make me softer, yet stronger, wiser, yet more compassionate. Grief humbles me and grows me in ways nothing else can. She seeps into every orifice of my being and changes me. God redeems my sorrow by using it to sanctify His child.
Grief is a motivator. 🥀
Life is precious. Life is a gift. Life is a vapor. But this life is not all there is. Grief reminds me that time is short, and there is still much Kingdom work to be done. Grief motivates me to move, challenges me to change, and leads me to love what matters.
Grief is holy. 🥀
God draws close to the broken-hearted. I see Him, feel Him, experience Him, and know Him more now, not in spite of my pain, but because of it. Grief forces me to stop. To cease striving. To be still. To allow my Abba to be my all-in-all. Grief pulls me into deeper intimacy with the Lover of my soul. And that, my friend, is holy work.
Grief will end. 🥀
As long as I live, grief will be with me. She will ebb and flow like ocean waves. Sometimes, gently kissing my feet. Sometimes bringing me abruptly to my knees. And sometimes, pulling me out into her depths yet again, only to wash me up on some other shore. But there is coming a day—a glorious homecoming day—when grief will be no more. No more death. No more pain. No more goodbyes. Only endless joy and peace. Death itself will die and grief will forever cease. Hallelujah!
I choose to be thankful for grief, for she has become part of who I am. She is my lifelong limp that serves to remind me that I once wrestled with God. A wrestling match that began with self-sufficiency and only ends with complete surrender. And nothing was wasted.
Because, not only did I love;
And not only was I loved;
I am loved.
And I am thankful.
