02.11.10

To the untrained, casual eye, each wave looks the same. It is not. No two are the same. And each one washes away the old, and washes in the new.

Today I am grateful…

• for the uber comfortableness of a home group
• for silly ‘getting the giggles like I was a kid in church’ moments in last nights meeting
• that a while back I added the gratitude for teaching me to be more compassionate to my daily prayers. It’s paying off.
• that when I am not thinking about myself my mind is in a more comfortable place
• that I don’t think I have ever been President of the United States

There's no way to prepare for deep grief, for the pain that shatters a heart and a life when a loved one leaves.
No one can coach us on it. Those who could, who knew exactly how it felt, who could describe it in detail, wouldn't do it, would not presume to encroach on this most intimate part of our relationship with a loved one. Those who casually say, "Aren't you over that yet?" don't understand.
This much I will tell you about grief: If there was ever a second, or a moment, when you suspected or knew you had been betrayed at the deepest level by someone you adored, and a splintering pain began to shred your heart, turn your world grimly unbearable to the point where you would consciously choose denial and ignorance about the betrayal rather than feel this way, that is one-millionth of what it feels like to grieve.
Grief is not an abnormal condition, nor is it something to be treated with words. It is a universe, a world, unto itself. If you are called to enter this world, there is no turning back. We are not allowed to refuse that call. Grief is like nothing else, with the possible exception of the pounding waves of the ocean. To the untrained, casual eye, each wave looks the same. It is not. No two are the same. And each one washes away the old, and washes in the new.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, whether we believe it or not, we are being transformed. ~The Language of Letting Go