Joy and Grief
I hate that it stole my joy. It's like a thief...you let your guard down, lean into safety and security and you are completely caught off guard by this invasion.
It was a beautiful weekend. A baptism, a wedding, our most incredible daughters First Communion...all in the midst of Covid and the uncertainty of what is appropriate boundaries.
I didn't see it coming. Sunday was such a beautiful day. Addie Rose could not have been more perfect. She was so excited. My sister treated her like a bride, my mom showered with flowers and attention. She couldn't have felt more special. It was when I saw her in church, in a mask that it started to hit me. Maybe it was a weekend full of babies, maybe it was knowing it was Father Tony's last weekend, maybe it was looking down at my beautiful little girl and realizing I've been so mired by the loss of Avila that I haven't really cherished what is right in front of my eyes...
But the waves of sadness stole my joy. After the party ended and when the house was quiet...the tears started falling. And nothing I did could stop it.
I was so angry. I am so angry. Why did this have to take away from the joy of such a beautiful occasion? Why couldn't I stop the tears? Why couldn't I control it...
But here is what I'm learning about grief. It has no timetable. It doesn't care when or how or what it looks like. It sneaks up on you. It catches you off guard.
It's emotion. And it is something I really suck at-allowing myself to feel.
The thing I learned in this moment is where I go to release it. How do I process it? Why do I still feel the need to guard people from my emotions, to hide what is underneath. Why can't I just let people I love see all of me?
I tried...but perhaps I didn't try hard enough. And at the end of the day...I just feel like a burden. Who really cares?
I know that Jesus does. Today I sat in the chapel, no devotionals, no scripture reading. Just me and Jesus. And he saw me. And he heard me. And I felt known again.
I hate this. I hate feeling this way. I know all the right things but my heart still hurts. I just hate it.
But that's grief. It's neither good nor bad, it just is. (Quote Brene Brown). And it is life. We aren't avoiding this. We can't get out of here without sadness and grief. But where do we go when it hits? Who do we turn to?
I'm going to keep turning to Jesus...in the hopes that simply sitting in his presence will afford me the strength I don't have. I know he offers it.
And for that I am grateful. :). And today I'm choosing Joy. Joy in the beauty of a little girl who just received Eucharist for the first time. And I'll take griefs hand and walk step by step into the unknown, aware of it's sneakiness but prepared for it's reality.
It was a beautiful weekend. A baptism, a wedding, our most incredible daughters First Communion...all in the midst of Covid and the uncertainty of what is appropriate boundaries.
I didn't see it coming. Sunday was such a beautiful day. Addie Rose could not have been more perfect. She was so excited. My sister treated her like a bride, my mom showered with flowers and attention. She couldn't have felt more special. It was when I saw her in church, in a mask that it started to hit me. Maybe it was a weekend full of babies, maybe it was knowing it was Father Tony's last weekend, maybe it was looking down at my beautiful little girl and realizing I've been so mired by the loss of Avila that I haven't really cherished what is right in front of my eyes...
But the waves of sadness stole my joy. After the party ended and when the house was quiet...the tears started falling. And nothing I did could stop it.
I was so angry. I am so angry. Why did this have to take away from the joy of such a beautiful occasion? Why couldn't I stop the tears? Why couldn't I control it...
But here is what I'm learning about grief. It has no timetable. It doesn't care when or how or what it looks like. It sneaks up on you. It catches you off guard.
It's emotion. And it is something I really suck at-allowing myself to feel.
The thing I learned in this moment is where I go to release it. How do I process it? Why do I still feel the need to guard people from my emotions, to hide what is underneath. Why can't I just let people I love see all of me?
I tried...but perhaps I didn't try hard enough. And at the end of the day...I just feel like a burden. Who really cares?
I know that Jesus does. Today I sat in the chapel, no devotionals, no scripture reading. Just me and Jesus. And he saw me. And he heard me. And I felt known again.
I hate this. I hate feeling this way. I know all the right things but my heart still hurts. I just hate it.
But that's grief. It's neither good nor bad, it just is. (Quote Brene Brown). And it is life. We aren't avoiding this. We can't get out of here without sadness and grief. But where do we go when it hits? Who do we turn to?
I'm going to keep turning to Jesus...in the hopes that simply sitting in his presence will afford me the strength I don't have. I know he offers it.
And for that I am grateful. :). And today I'm choosing Joy. Joy in the beauty of a little girl who just received Eucharist for the first time. And I'll take griefs hand and walk step by step into the unknown, aware of it's sneakiness but prepared for it's reality.
Psalm 121 1
I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
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