The day is gone and my night has given away to restlessness. I often find myself in my best writing mode when my mind can’t rest. Tonite I read something about grieving and how we often think the hardest times of grief are of those that occur within in the first year of our loss. Although much truth is in that statement I am not sure I can agree with that philosophy if we assume it isn’t that hard at any other time we might experience grief. It seems like the hardest days are the ones that catch you completely off guard and usually aren't tied to those ‘firsts’ but instead they are now linked to life as it happens. We are never able to muster up that strength we find as we hit milestones and special days. Instead, it takes our breath away and for a moment we can see, feel, smell and hear ‘them’. We struggle to breathe and the middle of our chest tightens creating a burden of pressure - we feel the weight of reality that we will not see them again.
Yet, the healing scars from our shattered hearts hold God's fingerprints on each broken piece. Each scar can have a toughness that protects and gives strength. But not every scar is the same age. Some are new and raw. Some are there because we allowed that wound to be re-opened so that the hidden and unspoken pain could begin to heal with the touch of the great physician. Grief has no boundaries, it is relentless until we find peace. Some may never experience total peace. But when you find yourself living through the moments of surprise; you picture your heart’s scars as imperfection being made perfect in the healing. Comfort will come and the grip of pressure in your chest will fade. Faith emerges and provides courage for the next unexpected moment of grief.
