Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.
And the weather for today has turned from thunderstorm to sunny. Thank You Father.
*staring at the computer screen. at work.
Help me to pull myself together today.
…. Maybe He doesn’t want me to pull myself together. Maybe He wants me to let go.
Perhaps I never take the time needed to grief properly. Is there a proper way to grief?
Life is so busy that we can’t afford to fully grief.
EVEN GRIEVING IS SOMETHING THAT I CAN ONLY DO WHEN I HAVE THE TIME.
Find a weekend to grief. Find an hour on Monday to grief. But there’s always things to do, dinners to attend, ministries to serve in, a certain pattern of daily life to live so that the families living under the same roof won’t be affected by my sadness too much, smiles to put on…
Is it a luxury, an indulgence to just want to be alone, not having to go to office, not having to worry about work that depends on you to complete, not having to tend to husband and daughter, not having to be careful of being nice to them because really, I just don’t want to answer you right now… to just grieve.
What if I just want to cry the whole day? Write the whole day? Pray the whole day? Be alone the whole week? What if I just need to do what I need to do fully grief?
At the back of my mind, I would think, well, it’s too late now. Too much at stake with your work. Who would be able to do them??
Who would do the news? Who would update the site?? Who would coordinate whatever it takes to keep things moving??
Back to same thing. Even to grief, it seems that I need to carve out time to do that.
Grief. Grieve. How do you bloody spell this word anyway???
Just watched Saving Mr.Banks. Until I make peace with the knowledge that everything in this temporary world is, well, temporary… I would always go on living in fear of losing people I love to death.
Until I make peace with the HOPE that because we have accepted Christ and therefore death is ONLY the beginning of an eternity… I will only know of the hope, but not live it.
Watching ‘Mr.Bank’ died in his bed with the young Helen Goff standing there, stir up image files of me standing inches from my mom as she drew her last breathe.
I too, like Helen Goff need to put an end to replaying the painful memories and replace them with our happy times. Images of how beautiful she looked. Images of us… I can’t find the happy files, I’m sure they are somewhere in there.
I see you