Permission to Grieve
When I spoke my wedding vows, I never dreamed those words – “in sickness and health until death do us part” – would mean burying him 11 years later.
When I spoke my wedding vows, I never dreamed those words – “in sickness and health until death do us part” – would mean burying him 11 years later.
I write today for the children and mothers and wives and others who will find Father’s Day bittersweet.
Why was coming alongside mommies who have to bury babies something I was doing with my life?
When God allows us to experience the most horrifying trials, we are at a quandary of choosing to either trust a God who claims to be good and sovereign, or to lean on our own understanding.
We are called to praise throughout the Scriptures and this is not limited to one kind of praise. Singing worship on a Sunday morning is great, but our praise of God should never end there. Praise is not a moment in time. And it’s not a spiritual gift that only a select few participate in. Scripture tells us to “let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord” (Psalm 150:6). When we praise, we are simply ascribing worth to God. Praise is an attitude of the heart, and should be like a sweet fragrance that oozes from our pores.
Worship is an opportunity to make our day, our life into a prayer. What I discovered this month is that worship is not limited to formal choirs and Sunday singing. In fact, worship is so much more than music.
As humans, our nature is to avoid pain. But sometimes grief is about returning to the places where you laid your most precious memories and remembering…and then finding the grace and strength to forge new memories. It’s about wading through instead of marching around.
All I know is this: I don’t want to move ahead, forgetting where I’ve been. Nor do I want to become useless because I won’t move forward. Practicing celebration is one way to create space for both and lean into the tensions of this life.
We all have hurts and junk in our lives that are hard, and we often wonder if anyone else cares.
This year my family has faced the most beautiful and painful season of our lives. My husband was diagnosed with stage four melanoma cancer in May. The news came like a sucker-punch to the gut, but it was no surprise to God. In the weeks that followed, we experienced God’s presence and provision in the most profound way and I began to understand how critical community is to our lives.