Where do I begin after yesterday’s post?
Our friend Joan passed away yesterday afternoon. Those who knew her are grieving today. And we all deal with grieving differently. No way is right, and no way is wrong.
I turn to my faith, and to my writing.
Yet, my words today seem empty. Unimportant. Frivolous. No words I have to write can take away the pain of losing a loved one. Even if I dig deep, they fall short.
When the biggest influence in my life, my mother, passed away, life came to a screeching halt. I knew my life would never be the same. And it hasn’t. But I was able to eventually find a different “normal,” and begin to live again. Of course I still miss Mom, and I imagine I always will.
As cliche’ as it may sound, the only thing that got me through that heart-wrenching time was my faith. Really. I don’t know how I would have arrived on the other side of grief without it. It carried me through when I couldn’t carry myself.
The title of my blog states where my faith lies. I believe in God, and I believe eternal life is found through His Son, Jesus. Why? Because I also believe God’s Words in the Bible are absolutely true. And I cling to His promises in it.
My intent here is to not shove my faith in anyone’s face, but to just share where I’m coming from. And maybe extend hope to one or two.
Joan and I shared this same faith. I take comfort in knowing Jesus was the center of her faith as well. She loved Jesus. She worshiped Him and led others to do the same. She had a beautiful friendship with Him.
She believed in the truth of John 3:16. Many of us have heard it, or have read it. I particularly like The Voice translation:
For God expressed His love for the world in this way: He gave His only Son so that whoever believes in Him will not face everlasting destruction, but will have everlasting life. John 3:16
Joan is experiencing everlasting life today in her heavenly home. No, this doesn’t take the pain away for us left here to carry on, but it does help in knowing she’s with the One who formed her in her mother’s womb. The One who knows the number of hairs on her head. The One who loves her completely.
This comfort clashes with grief. It brings good from the bad. It lifts our hope out of the wreckage of pain.
All she lived for on earth, she’s being rewarded with in eternity today.
Oh, this causes me to lean in and live my faith larger. To live boldly as the one I’m created to be. To bless others more with simple acts of kindness. To share the hope I have through my Savior. To love completely.
When comfort clashes with grief, may we embrace that comfort and share it with others who need it too.
Praying for you and me today.
Much love,
Julie
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Julie, my heart goes out to you. Your words are anything but empty, and I think they will bookmarked by many of your readers…and maybe I will be the first to do it!
This may be a cold sort of comfort…but it is a good thing to feel that depth of grief, that world-shattering tectonic shift that alters the landscape forever.
Being the other way – being like me, someone who keeps any expressed emotion (expressed even to myself) locked behind triple-doors, that’s not a good way to live. It’s partly genetic – ever the inscrutable Chinaman! – but partly experiential, for I had to deal with far too many deaths in a career that had me walking arm-in-arm with the Reaper.
And when my mother-in-law died, the closest thing I had to a real mother…I couldn’t feel anything. Not even an echo. In that moment, I hated myself.
Don’t be like that; it takes a living heart to bleed, and to heal.
Andrew, thank you. I understand some of what you write here. I can only imagine what it was like walking in your shoes in your career. Actually, no. I can’t imagine it. But I read your words on your blog, and I have witnessed your heart sharing from its depths. There’s more there though. I’m thankful God doesn’t leave us locked behind triple-doors! Thanks for being here.
Julie,
I’m so sorry for your loss. I read your previous post about your friend and Joan sounds like an amazing woman. I think your words are beautiful and real. I’m glad you and Joan shared such a strong faith and that it is proving a source of comfort in your time of grief.
Thank you, Laura. It was a gift to know Joan, and a great gift to know I’ll see her again someday. Bless you for your words.