“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” –Shakespeare’s Macbeth
Shakespeare’s advice is practical but painful. In fact, giving into grief is pretty much at the top of my list of “Things I Never Want To Do.” And yet, here I type with the plan to do as The Bard biddeth.
It’s been over seven months since I left the Ecuador. However, it’s not been more than 24 hours since my mind wandered back there. My thoughts pose and twirl, linger and sway as if my mind is performing a lyrical dance of memories. But rather than burst into applause, the audience — my heart — mourns.
A season of life that I loved is over. Days that I adored are over. The person I was is washing away with sweep of the second hand. Honestly, it hurts.
Those are dangerous words to speak because people just don’t get it — and what people don’t understand, they judge. Some might say, I’m too emotional. Others will say get over it. And then there are those who suggest if I was truly following God, I shouldn’t grieve — and I’d be apt to agree with them. That is until recently.
A few months after we returned to the states, I became frustrated with my constant yearning for Ecuador. I reminded myself of some of the very things that people had suggested to me. But no matter how much I prayed, or looked on the bright side of life, the feelings kept overwhelming me.
One day, I specifically ask God to take away the sadness and the longing. He said no. I was a little surprised by His answer but then He explained. It went a little something like this:
“Death doesn’t only come to the body. Death comes to every part of life. It’s reflected in everyday you live. The light of day signifies life; the dark of night mimics death. Even the seasons succumb to its influence. Your jungle life has to die, so you can live the new life I’ve called you to. It’s okay to mourn, to grieve, when faced with death. You fought HARD to love the jungle life, and it feels like a complete loss to be asked to let it go. So be sad, but know that nothing you ever give up for me will be wasted. No pain you ever felt as you’ve walked in My will goes unnoticed. I will redeem every moment of your life.”
So, I mourned. Some days I still do, but what I’ve discovered is the grief is slowly being replaced with excitement for the future. God provided my joy and purpose in the jungle; He’ll do the same in the mountains. God took another step of perfecting Himself in my heart in the heat of the jungle; He’ll do the same in the chill of the mountain snow.
Shakespeare had the right idea when he said unspoken grief breaks a heart. I’ll add that finding the words to speak of it is much like a wrestling match in the mind. But today on both accounts, heart and mind, I win.
Can you remember a time in your life where grief didn’t apply to losing someone you loved to death? If so, please encourage us with how you moved past your mourning.
Pingback: Making the Ugly Sound Pretty | aliciachall
I’m so sorry that your heart has been broken these past months. You’re right, some people will never really understand this grieving process, but I do. I’ve mourned friendships that have ended or faded away, a ministry that has died, and I’m still grieving the passing of a childhood in a daughter that is now a young woman. It hurts, and there days when you wonder if it will ever not hurt again, but time heals and God is faithful. And in the end, when the season of mourning is over, you’re changed…new…better…wiser. So as i grieve with you, i am daily reminded, “Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (and yes, i can totally see Ben Stone bopping his head and banging away on that keyboard as i type that.)