Ouch!

Admittedly, I am no expert on grief.

Sure, I know grief. I’ve lost my fair share of dogs, grandparents, and friends. I’ve had my heart broken by a boy. But, I don’t know GRIEF. I’ve never lost parents, children, siblings, or best friends. I’ve never had my heart broken by a husband.

Grief is always hard. Always hard. Always HARD.

But from what I’ve witnessed, grief is the most consuming, the most gut-wrenching, when the loss can not be reconciled. A child dying of cancer. A dog disappearing from a backyard. A man taking his own life. A fatal car accident.  A man walking out a relationship with no explanation. Something, someone, being plucked right out of (the illusion of) our grasp.

I guess it is because when we can’t reconcile a loss, we get STUCK. We get stuck desperately trying to understand “why?”. Instead of mourning, reflecting, and discovering what’s next, we get stuck replaying the loss over-and-over, and our heart breaks again-and-again.

Once I FINALLY put away the “why?”s, I begin to properly grieve my loss, to heal, and to move forward. Of course it’s still a process, but at least I’m not stuck…

The one thing I still haven’t figured out (and it is a doozy) is HOW to skip the stage where I try to reconcile my loss, the where I get stuck asking “why?” Is there a way to fast forward through this painful (and usually unfruitful) stage of grief?

Thoughts?

I guess it goes without saying that I do. I struggle with this. A lot.

Because my faith has not truly been tested. Sure, my life hasn’t been perfect. I have been through terrible break-ups. I have been betrayed by some of my best friends. I have had to bury three grandparents, two dogs, and several friends. I have been sick. And at thirty years old, I have to sit and wait for biopsy results knowing that my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was thirty-one.

I have experienced loss. I have experienced fear. I have felt alone.

But I look at the trials and tribulations of others. And I remember that I have no idea. Because even as I share confidently in their pain about the amazing power of the Cross, I have not lived with the kind of pain they are experiencing. I have not had to mourn the loss of a parent. I have not had a spouse cheat on me. I have not been homeless without a bed to call my own. I have not struggled with addiction. I have not had to care for a child with a life-threatening disease.

And so I fear that once my world is rocked (and odds are that it will be rocked someday), my faith will not withstand. Because even though my foundation is on the Rock, until a nasty storm blows in I cannot be completely confident that my house is not in danger of washing away.

Do you ever wonder that your faith is not enough? That you won’t have the strength or the wherewithal to cling to the One thing that can save you?

PS – I write this with ABSOLUTE FEAR that God is going to help my figure this out. That He is planing on building my character, by making me really uncomfortable.