grief

When Grief Steals Christmas

December 15, 2020 by Ellen 10 Comments

It has been almost ten years since my mama passed away. By far, that was the hardest circumstance in life that I have ever gone through. It’s a hard thing to lose a mama. Mom’s death threw me into a pit of grief that I didn’t think I would ever crawl out of. I wasn’t sure I could claw my way to the surface and see the light of day again. Only my sweet husband realized the depths of my sorrow. He asked if I needed to talk to someone – a pastor, a counselor. And tell them what, exactly? That my heart had been ripped out of my body? That my grief was a literal heart ache?

Dear one, if this is how Christmas finds you, please know you are not alone. May I share with you a few things I learned all those years ago?

ALLOW yourself time to grieve. Oh, I know, I know. Life goes on, the world keeps turning and you only get three days funeral leave. But don’t tamp down those feelings you have. Don’t push them aside. Give yourself time and space to grieve. Visit with your family. Talk about your loved one. Those memories you made together? Remember them! Look through pictures and share your stories. It’s okay to grieve.

KNOW that grief is a long, winding road with many twists and turns, hills and valleys. Many days you won’t be able to see the forest for the trees.

Grief is a slow process. The deeper the love, the deeper the pain. Grief will blindside you when you least expect it. You may be in the grocery store looking at bunches of bananas and suddenly burst into tears. Shoppers around you will give you strange looks, wondering if they should call the EMTs. But the thing is, those bananas reminded you of homemade banana pudding. It tasted just okay, but that banana pudding had cups full of love as the main ingredient. Grief rears its ugly head at the most inopportune times. Know this will happen. Know this is normal. And don’t worry about the old man in the produce section who thinks you are a fruitcake. We all know it’s about banana pudding! If tears come, let them flow.

CLING to Jesus. Reach out, grab the hem of His cloak (Luke 8:43-48) and hang on for dear life! Hold on to Jesus with all you’ve got! Read His Word, even though it may not soak into your soul. Read devotions for those who are grieving. Pray, even if you have no words. Groan if you must (Romans 8:26). Grab Jesus and don’t let go! His grace is sufficient. It is a supernatural, enabling grace that will carry you (or drag you) through the darkest days of your life. It really is amazing grace.

Right now, your heart is tender and hurting. But ever so slowly, it will mend. Oh, yes, there will be a scar. Your fingernails will be broken and torn from clawing your way out of the pit. But when you cling to Jesus, you will see Son light again!

Please know I am praying for you, as you navigate this new normal.

To all who mourn in Israel,
    he will give a crown of beauty for ashes,
a joyous blessing instead of mourning,
    festive praise instead of despair.
In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks
    that the Lord has planted for his own glory. Isaiah 61:3 (NLT)

In memory of my sweet sister Honey.

Alpha 2/14/51

Omega 12/14/20

Straggling, Struggling and Spelunking

September 14, 2017 by Ellen 10 Comments

If you receive my blogs via e-mail, or scroll through Facebook in hopes of seeing one, you’ll know that last week, there was nothing. Nada. I was straggling.

It all started innocently enough. We were headed out for a very “relaxing” vacation. With the car packed full, all the electronics suddenly went berserk.
WARNING: Low tire pressure
WARNING: Low oil pressure
WARNING: Passenger air bag alert

Every type of warning my car could give was going off right when we were leaving town. So, we did what I would have done as a single gal: turned the car off, and let it sit. After a while, we fired her up again, and all was well. She just needed to reboot.

One would think that would have given us an inkling into how our vacation would play out. But no-o-o-o.

We forged ahead six hours to get to our first destination: Florida Caverns State Park, and geared up for some spelunking (cave touring).

Those of you who know me, know that I do not do caves. They have bats. They are dark. There are very tight spots and you must squeeze between narrow solid rock walls to get through. They have bats. There are slimy, creepy crawly things. They are underground. Did I mention the bats? Walking around under the earth for 45 minutes, knowing that at any moment, I could be buried under the rubble of a cave collapse, left me a bit apprehensive.

The door into the cavern struck fear in my heart. Heavy, iron, dungeon-looking, it clanged shut behind us, sealing us in forever. Or so it seemed.

Our tour guide threatened to turn the lights off – um, well, he offered, as part of the tour – so that we could experience true darkness. My husband advised him not to do so, as it would cause me to run screaming through the cavern hurting myself or someone else.

It was difficult. There were times during the descent into the pit of darkness that we had to double over, practically crawling through narrow areas. We had to maneuver around sharp stalactites and stalagmites, being careful not to brush against them, for fear of slicing our skin. It was a hard path to walk.

I struggled. Often, rounding a corner, the guide and my husband lingering behind to take pictures, I felt totally alone. In the darkness. Panic would bubble to the surface.

Just when I thought we may never get out, there we were – at the end. The door opened and bright sunlight streamed through, guiding us.

After the caverns, we continued our journey to South Carolina. A recap for the next three days went like this:
Drove across six states; through two times zones; two storms (Hurricane Harvey at home, and a depression off the Carolina coast), and two deaths.

Yes, you read correctly. Two deaths. All in three days.

The first was a sweet lady, who lived a good long life into her nineties. Though a surprise, her death was expected.

The second was a close family member. A tragedy. Unimaginable. Numbing. A young life ended much too soon. I struggled.
Why, Lord? Why?

Cavern darkness threatened to overcome my heart.

Are you struggling with the darkness of grief or pain today? May I share some truths I learned in the cave?

1. We are not alone. No matter how dark it is, no matter if we can’t see our hand in front of our face, we have Christ in us. He will walk with us through the tight, dark, places in life. He is with us, even when we are bent over, crawling through the pain. Follow His light. “Then Jesus spoke to them again: “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows Me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 HCSB

2. It’s a hard path to walk. No getting’ around it. But walk it we must. As much as it hurts, as physically painful as it is, we have to walk it. Grief is a stalactite that pierces our hearts. Remember, though, there is light. I slipped and crawled and struggled through the darkness of the cave before I came to the light at the end, but it was there. It took time, but I got through. You will too. And guess what…

3. We are stronger. Hard to believe, but it’s true. Trials make us stronger. Now, I’m no Ninja Warrior, and I have no intention of spelunking again, but walking through that dark cave made me realize this: I made it! With God’s grace, I made it. And, if necessary, I could do it again. “Moreover [let us also be full of joy now!] let us exult and triumph in our troubles and rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that pressure and affliction and hardship produce patient and unswerving endurance.” Romans 5:3 AMP

[tweetthis]Rock solid walls of the cavern may cover us in darkness but the solid rock of Jesus brings hope and light when we need it most.[/tweetthis]

Thank you Father, for the light of Jesus Christ. We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that ultimately we are stronger in You because of them. Amen.

Grace be with you,