I was talking to my discipleship group recently about how I was processing a recent loss. One of my friends remarked how they admired how well I was handling it. I had been hearing that a lot lately, how surprisingly well I was handling it given how objectively upsetting the circumstance was. I laugh at that comment a little, because I feel like I haven’t done anything exceptionally brave or special.
I responded by explaining that it seems as though God has passed me my grief in parcels. To unpack one at a time.
I am glad I have heard His plea for me to be patient in this unpacking process, because I can almost feel the weight of what it might be like to climb up on the counter and open that messy cupboard by myself. I can imagine the mess and discomfort of letting it all hit me at once- all the questions, all the pain, and all the fear.
Instead, I wait patiently. Whether it be day by day, or week by week, or longer. Some days I let myself forget or pretend I have completely forgotten. Some days, now more than before, I don’t feel the weight of it so much, and I savor that, because its a gift. I trust that in time I will know all the little pieces that broke off in the calamity, and I will know where to return them to, or if they need a new place entirely.
Perhaps all this is a nonsense metaphor, but for me right now, it brings me so much peace to know that it is not up to me to put all the pieces back together, or to make sense of the events that caused the fallout. I am simply writing this post because my discipleship group asked me if I’ve ever thought about writing and I shyly admitted I write often, on my semi unknown blog for rambling thoughts. I decided this would be one of the few posts I’ll publish.