“There are no steps to grief—there’s no process to it, and closure is the myth of the century…”
I’ve learned a couple things in these days of searching for answers. For one thing, Google doesn’t have many. Most people don’t really share the pain of broken engagements with the world. The only real, satisfactory answers I’ve gotten to this problem of pain have been from pastors. In those first hours yesterday, I desperately threw myself at God. But I can’t keep that up at length — and alternated the rest of the day between crying, reading, and writing. I’ve been journaling alot on my own, but somehow blogging about things is cathartic in a different way.
I’m still not in a place where I can muster up much coherence, but perhaps you’ll bear with my disjointed thoughts.
I went back to John Piper’s article, “There is a Way to be Happy, Even in Sadness” this afternoon. He makes some similar points to those Tim Keller makes in his sermon, “Praying Our Tears”, which I listened to earlier. I needed to hear the encouragement to invest the sorrow I feel in this time. Not to hurry through it or try to “fix” it. To take each feeling to my Father, knowing that He takes note of each tear and “puts them into his bottle [Psalm 56:8]”. He himself has experienced the full measure of sorrow and separation and anguish — greater than anything I could ever feel — and he is able to sympathize with me. He understands the ache.
This hasn’t been an easy day. I had no choice but to be sucked back into classes and labs and acting like things were normal, while all the time I was hurting so desperately inside. I didn’t get enough time to be alone with the Lord in silence. I lost my best friend on this earth Sunday night. I’ve never felt this achingly, crushingly alone.
Pray for me, that I could walk through this time of grief hand in hand with my Father; that it would be profitable for my soul. And pray for Matthew, that the Lord would comfort and keep him as well.