The grief pressed down.  Not oppressive.  Not intolerable.  But enough that it could not be simply shrugged away.  It made it’s presence known and felt.  It demanded to be acknowledged and heeded.  All my attempts to bypass it, to press forward came to naught. It drew my attention back over and over.

I felt it begin in my torso.  It slowly crawled throughout my body, expanding and growing in strength.  Before I knew it, my shoulders convulsed with it.  My body shuddered under the liberation of grief and tears from somewhere inside my flesh.  They rushed away, heedless of my will or desire.  They made it abundantly clear that they would not be denied. 

Memories rolled now with the same insensitivity as that of the tears coursing down my cheeks; the same thoughtlessness and petulant exertion of their will.

The image of his still body on the bed when we entered the room.

The sound of her last breath.

Sounds and images of the oxygen fighting to aid his flailing lungs.

Images of her gashed forehead and agitated demeanor.

Images and memories of their final days and the suffering they endured. 

They rolled like an old style slide projector, flashing in rapid succession as if someone had fallen asleep with their finger on the button. 

After a few moments, everything subsided and silence fell, stillness ensued.  Wiping my eyes and blowing my nose, I sat, feeling depleted.  While far from the most severe sorrow storm I had experienced, it certainly was wearying in it’s bluster.  This was the more common these days; brief, infrequent (every couple of weeks), and moderate in it’s affect.

What had stimulated this sorrow fest?  Hmph.  What didn’t stimulate it?  I am surrounded every day with triggers and stimulus to prompt such memories.  It is not like I want to forget.  It is just that the sheer “randomness” of these moments so often catch me by surprise.

The other day, it was the worship leader beginning the day with 10,000 Reasons…the song she sang along with just weeks before her final breath. 

This grief and sorrow is a strange thing.  It’s whim of when to express itself, odd.  The times I think I will, or that I ought, to struggle most find themselves absent of any consternation.  Moments that seem benign, mundane, well, they are the moments that provoke these emotional tempests.  It seems that the venting of sorrow’s capriciousness is often something beyond my paltry ability to control. 

Control…that’s laughable. Abba, you do your darnedest to ensure we have no delusions about what we can and cannot control. And we cannot control anything, including our emotions. I shook my head and, with it, dismissing the very notion of control.

Spirit, I could use a little help right now.

The prayer was little more than a sigh, less than a whisper.

Just as quietly…

Psalm 34:15–18 (ESV):  15  The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous

and his ears toward their cry.

16 The face of the Lord is against those who do evil,

to cut off the memory of them from the earth.

17 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears

and delivers them out of all their troubles.

18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

and saves the crushed in spirit.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4 (ESV): God of All Comfort

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

The words filled my mind, soothing my heart and soul as they did.  The Spirit’s response to my cry.  He was coming to my aid.  He was already there.  He was aware of my grief before I was.  He knew of it’s arrival before I felt it.  He had already positioned Himself within me to bear the weight for me.  His face was upon me.  It was as if I could not feel his compassionate gaze upon me.  It was as if I could feel his tender hand on my head, his presence pressed close to me.  It was as if I could feel his loving arms encompass me. 

I pictured the cross then.  The darkness of the hour when Father turned away from Son.  The travesty of eternal Son’s death. 

What do I know of grief that He does not?

What do I know of suffering that He cannot relate to?

What do I know of sorrow that seems too much to bear?

This dark moment in history ensures that I am never alone, never unique, never without His understanding and compassion.

This dark moment in history is the source of my hope and joy.

And I could rest.  I found my strength.  Joy permeated my being.  The memories were still there but they continued to change now.

Him laughing so hard at this own jokes that he could not breath.

The tenderness of her holding the little ones and reading to them.

The sound of her voice as she sang in worship to God.

The conversations with him regarding truth, counseling, ministry. 

Glancing at the picture frame now as it rotated endlessly through the images of life, they produced joy in viewing now, not grief.  The grief retreated.  Not gone but back to a place of dull avoidance. 

I prayed then.  I do not recall the words.  Does not matter.  Just being with my Abba, Father and His being with me was all that did.

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Romans 8:31–39 (ESV): God’s Everlasting Love

31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? 33 Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? 36 As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;

we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.