Making Space to Grieve

I will not forget the feeling: the feeling of the soft down comforter underneath me, the slices of sunlight through the curtain, the pillow I closely curled up to. I had recent found out that the baby that I thought would first make me a mama was not going to make it past the end of the week. It was early in my pregnancy but for the weeks that I thought I was going to be a mama, my world was brighter, more exciting and filled with wonder. I was crushed. I felt like I couldn’t move and wanted to go to sleep and wake up with a different reality. I did crawl into bed but sleep did not bring the comfort. My God wrapped his arms around me so tightly that day that it was almost tangible. As I lay in bed crying with open hands giving this pain to Him, I felt the comfort I was certain could not come. The God who created the Heavens, who created this baby, was comforting me. And, while there were a million questions of why, I was only focused on who. Who was holding me, who was reminding me of truth, who was comforting me.

That afternoon changed me. There was a peace that I cannot understand and a certainty of the sovernity of God that continues to pervade my faith. His control, his goodness, and his power do not waiver and He convinced me of that as I lay in my bed crying. I made space to grieve that day and my faith was forever changed. It was a bit easier to make that space then as I did not have children, I had not started my teaching job for the year, and my husband was off for the Labor Day weekend.  It is not the same today. My grief is deep and my sorrow is real. But, so is my life. With four children, a home, a husband, and other commitments, making space to grieve at first seemed like a luxury. However, it is not. It is a necessity and I am fighting for my space to grieve.

I will not get this time back. If I had continued to go on with life that Labor Day weekend, I would never have had that precious afternoon with our Lord as I wept over my baby I would never meet. I couldn’t let this time pass with busyness and continue to go on with life as before. I am changed. I am different. I need the comfort of Jesus and he promises to give it.  David called out to God in the Psalms (31:9-10): Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eye is wasted from grief; my soul and my body also. For my life is spent with sorrow, and my years with sighing; my strength fails because of my iniquity, and my bones waste away. God comforted David and in a later Psalm we are assured that “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

I want God to be close to my broken heart. I want God to save my crushed spirit. I want his comfort, his love, his grace during this time. But, it is not always easy to come by and I am learning that I must create that space for myself. No one is going to do that for me. In fact, people have continued to ask me to take on new tasks. They only want me to do something small but right now everything seems enormous. Each committee meeting, each doula consult, each time I coordinate a babysitter to come to the house, each evening away from my husband all seems so draining. They might not always be draining but I realized that I cannot commit to things in the future that I do not have the emotional capacity to handle today. I will get there. I will serve as room mom in my child’s class. I will take on doula clients. I will make it through an entire exercise class. I will help with the women’s ministry at my church. But, I can’t today. And, I don’t want to. I want God. I want his comfort. The only comfort that is real, lasting, and beyond comprehension in its effectiveness.

There has been a sweetness in the stillness of our home lately as we have scaled back on commitments and activities. We have sat on the couch looking through pictures of my dad. I have heard dreams that my children are having of Daddoc pushing them in the swing and hugging them. I have listened to worship music and cried as I wash dishes or change Lindley’s clothes. Simple moments where God continues to reveal himself to me and to my children.  I will continue to make space to grieve and to in those moments remind myself of who is near, who will fulfill his promises and who will one day wipe away every tear.