Destined to Grieve

Everyone has that one weakness – that earthly thing they hold most dear. It is this weakness that is frequently threatened. The cosmos collaborates to give a paper-cut and then pour continuous streams of lemon juice on it.

For me, that weakness is people. Relationships are what I live for. I have family, best friends who are close, best friends who are distant, close friends, and distant friends. I have so, so many people. And I love them all dearly.

And yet, time after time, they are threatened. Some grow ill; some grow ill and die. Some merely move far, far away. Others stay geographically close, and yet grow more distant than some who have moved far, far away.

This is a common theme of my life, and from what I know of humanity and this world we live in, I would guess it may also be a theme of yours.

Upon realizing that this theme will continue indefinitely, we may either hide ourselves forever from all deep attachments with our fellow man, or we curse ourselves with inevitable grief.

I am destined to grieve.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I cannot live life with mere superficial attachments. I cannot coast from friendship to friendship without investing myself in others. I cannot withdraw my friendship at whim and place it elsewhere. So instead I must open myself up to pain. I must invest in people and put trust in them - not all of it, not too much even, just some. And then they will inevitably do what people do – what even I am so very guilty of doing. They will leave or forget or break trust or give up on me, and my heart will be in a state of shambles for the millionth time. Indeed, shambles seems to be my heart's state of residence.

But so be it. This destiny is far preferable to the self-inflicted loneliness that is the only other option.

So far, God has prevented my defense mechanisms from building up too much callousness within my heart. This means that each infliction of pain is not less intense, nor the damage less severe. The urge to run always pops up, and as soon as it is denied it is replaced by the depression that wishes never to feel anything ever again and the cynicism that is convinced the pain will never end. And there is nothing quite so lonely as the cynical depression that comes out of relationship failure.

But then, I hear the most patient of voices saying to me, “My child, if I can provide for your physical needs - if I can give you food and shelter, employment and financial stability out of thin air, can I not also provide for your emotional needs? Can I not heal wounds and close distances? Am I not the creator and inventor of all relationships? Am I not trustworthy? So why do you fret? Ask me and know I will answer you. Surrender your arrogant striving.”

And that is when I realize how foolish I have been to make these human relationships more important than my relationship with their Inventor. I have made these gifts more important than the Giver. I have made these creations more important than their Creator. How painful it must have been for Him to hear me tell Him His love was not enough! How foolish I was to cry and pine for love when it was right there with me the whole time! My emotions, my grief, my desire to be loved, are a mere shadow of the grief my Savior feels when I turn my human failure upon Him.

But then, in the throes of despair from my own sorrow and guilt from the sorrow I have caused, God does the most gracious thing a Father could do - He sends me to bed. His words, soothing every dark corner of my battered soul, whisper into the ache of my heart, "All you must do now is go to bed, wake up in the morning, and try again."

So goodnight, grief. I'll see you tomorrow.

Discovery Mode

One thing I absolutely love about my job as a nanny is the opportunity to watch a child learn - to watch her teach herself everything she possibly can, and then fill in the blanks. The ten-month-old I nanny is in what I call discovery mode, and I love watching her gears turn. To my overactive imagination, her inner monologue looks something like this:

What's this? Oh, I know what this is. It does this. And this part over here tastes yummy. I remember that from last time.

Oh, this is new! What happens if I do thi – oo, that was neat. Will it happen again? Yes it will! And again! And again! What if I do it over here? Yes, same results. Over here? Oh, that is different. This is nea-- Oo, look, something else.

This is a fun thing. What does it feel like? What does it sound like against this first thing? What does it taste like? Yum! Can I put the whole thing in my mouth? How about backwards? Sideways? Oh that works better. It has another side over here, and I like it, too. And it has another side over here. I like it. And another side over here. And another side. And a handle. All of these parts are fun. I do not know which I like best. I just hit myself with this part and it felt new. I shall try it again. It felt the same. I shall try to hit myself with the other part. It does not feel different.

I would like to hold this and that in my hand. Is that possible? Yes, but it is very hard. I have managed it and they do not fall, even when I wave my arms like this. Can I now add another thing? Oh, how about that over there? Can I crawl with these two in my hand? Yes, but it is very hard. I have managed it. And now I have so many things in my hands. This is so nea – Oo, look what you have.

I want to touch what you have. Can I touch it here? You said no. How about now? You said no again. Now? You have said no again. Can I touch it over there instead? You said no. Can I touch it with this other hand? No again. With my mouth? No again. Can I hit it? You don't like that either.

Oo, you're giving me something fun to play with! It is so shiny. What does it do? Oh, it does that! Show me again! Oo, that's neat! Can I make it do that? I can't. I can't. I can't. I can! I did it! I did it again! Now I shall do it over and over until nap time because it is new and fun! I shall just keep doing thi – Oo! Look at that!


Some days I wish my life were this simple. Other days I wish my attention span were a little longer than hers is. Not making much progress the - Oo! Look at that!

The Worst Season of All

This has been a season of goodbyes. It started, as it often does, with a graduation. Some of my friends were seniors in college this year, and the beginning of May brought their time in the area to an accomplished close. Summer is also travel season, and it brings several dear friends and family into town – and then right back out. Life itself brings with it continuous, annoyingly reliable change, and it has moved some dear friends further away than I would like. Most unwelcome of all was the extraction of my “baby” brother from my local life, as he is fully engaged in the process of striking out on his own as a fully-educated, extremely talented adult. (I am excruciatingly proud of him – I only wish I could be proud from less than 5 hours away.)

I hate goodbyes. They signify the absolute worst kind of change – the kind of change that hinders my relationships. I am extremely fond of my relationships, and fonder still of the people inside them. I love regular face time with my people – even though “regular” ranges from semi-monthly to several times a week. The absolute biggest disaster – the force most capable of upending my life – is that which puts those I see regularly far enough away that this becomes impossible. (I know I am not alone in this sentiment.)

And yet they continue. Time after time, month after month, year after year, people leave. And each farewell stings just a little bit more – each loss is placed on a growing pile of similar losses, some still tender because they have not yet had time to heal. As time passes, I find myself tempted to give in to the bitterness that stalks my heart. I have grown so tired of these goodbyes that when I learned of the most recent departure, there was a whisper deep in my heart that said, “Of course he's leaving – everyone leaves.” It was the desperate cry of a hurting heart that wants, more than anything, never to hurt again. The pain was eager to harden my heart to those I love most, refusing to let them close enough to hurt me when they – inevitably – leave.

For the briefest moment, I considered it. But then, without a second thought, I cast it away forever, for I realized that, despite how great this pain may be, the joy brought by the closeness and dearness of these relationships is far greater.

More importantly, I think it's time for me to have a little more faith – not in the whole of humanity, not even in the “goodness” of those I love – but in the God who gave them to me, the God who takes them away. It is when I begin to think of these people as mine and of my happiness as pivotal that everything comes unraveled. Instead, it is time for me to realize that God has a plan for something bigger than my relational satisfaction, and He intends to use these wonderful people I dearly love to enact it. It is time for me to trust in God to take care of me, even when it appears as if He is taking away those who made me feel most cared-for, and to hope that, perhaps, He may yet let me keep some of them. Even amidst the goodbyes, it is time for me to make new friends, to deepen the friendships I have, and to invest myself entirely in those around me, no matter how long they may remain nearby.

“We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they should break, so be it.” – C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

There are two dear friends – one near, one very far away – who have helped me cope with this season of goodbyes, along with many others who keep the lonelies away. To you I owe a great chunk of my current sanity. Thank you. Of course, without the constancy of my Almighty Creator, Redeemer, and Friend, I would be but a tear-drenched heap on the floor. It is You I need close to me, it is Your face I must see each day, and it is only You who will never leave me for something better.