I
don't really agree with that statement . . . at least not just at face
value.
The
active grieving will fade as time passes – and, no, it is not time
that heals all wounds – Only God heals our hearts – and only if
we let Him. (We definitely can choose to hold onto our grief and
live in it every day.) It is the natural process – the way God
has wired us – that allows us to continue on after we have lost
someone we love. Though the active grieving subsides, there will still be 'moments' of grief that come and go. I have been through this many times over.
Though
I disagree with that opening statement, I do believe that loss
changes a person – for better or for worse. My theory is that that
statement came about because of one of the changes that loss makes:
Loss creates a heightened sense of certain things.
About
a dozen years ago, I had a strange injury at work – one that
resulted ultimately in the surgical loss of the tip of my finger. My
surgeon assured me that the nerves were not cut – they were
separated from the affected tissue and left intact. From a medical
standpoint, those nerves are whole. However, those nerves are not
'normal' – at least not by the standard of what they used to be.
There is a new 'normal':
- Hot and cold don't feel the same – I don't always feel hot, and cold is very painful.
- I have mostly normal texture sensitivity – but not completely.
- Some days, it is numb.
- There are days it is incredibly stiff and uncooperative.
- There's that crazy phenomenon with weather changes irritating it....
- By far – the biggest change has been the pain-sensing aspect: If something pokes or bumps the tip of that finger, I definitely know it! The pain level is well beyond anything 'normal' – sometimes making the injury feel fresh again.
Most
days, I don't give any thought to that finger – I simply go through
life and do what I need to do. There are adjustments, though. If I
really need to feel temperature, I have to use a different finger.
The same applies to when I need a careful texture sensitivity. If it
gets bumped or poked in certain ways, I may need to stop what I had
been doing for a while. I may need to give my hand some extra
attention by way of an ice pack, heat pack, or splint. I may need to
be very protective of it for a time to allow that heightened pain
sensitivity to calm down.
Just
as it is so with my post-injury finger, so are our lives post-loss. .
. .
We
are still here living our lives, but we have been altered in some
ways with a heightened sensitivity.
There
are people and situations we encounter that trigger responses and can
make our grief feel 'fresh' again.
Maybe
someone near you is going through a situation similar to your
experience – those feelings you had in your own experience may come
rushing back in, and your grief feels fresh again.
Maybe
you are 'tapped out' mentally and emotionally – your reserves are
empty – when you learn of someone's difficult situation. Though
you genuinely care, you feel nothing. Your emotions
are numb to that.
Sometimes,
it is an overload: There are so many hurting people around you –
and you truly want to empathize – and it is so very painful to do
so. The overload may be such that you just . can't . emotionally
invest.
Sometimes,
though, you feel grieved for someone or something that is far
removed from your personal loss; and yet it causes you to grieve your
own loss anew. . . . That's where I have been at times this year.
Just
as many others have done, I have been watching the events of this
year; and my heart is grieved.
- I am grieved for our country and the direction I see it going.
- I am grieved as I see people living in fear.
- I am grieved to see lawless behavior not only happening (which is sad enough on its own), but being allowed to continue and even being applauded.
- I am grieved for those who have been affected by natural disasters.
- I am very deeply grieved for those in hospitals and care centers who have been denied the advocacy, love, and care from friends and family.
As
I grieve for all of these – and more – I find that the grief of
loss has been stirred. I consider it a secondary grief – grief for
my loss(es), yes; but a grief that is more prompted than purely
natural -- Like my finger feeling newly injured when it has simply
been bumped or poked.
Tears
come much more easily these days. That sense of loneliness has been
a bigger battle this year. Smaller matters feel much bigger some
days. Sometimes the overload hits, and I feel mentally and
emotionally numb. And to be completely honest, there are days I just
plain don't want to cope with anything more.
When
these times come, it is so very important to lean on the truths that
we know. I've written about it before – so much of how we go
through life is a choice. We have to choose to believe the things
that we know – choose what we know over how we feel. We choose to trust God. We choose to believe what He has said. We
choose to live in His strength instead of our own. We choose to be
thankful for His goodness.
Whatever
life brings, God enables us to go through it.
He
has promised that He will work things together for good for those who
love Him. (Romans 8:28)
He
tells us that His strength is perfected in our weakness. (II Cor.
12:9)
He
tells us that He will never leave us alone. (Heb. 13:5)
He
tells us to give Him all that concerns us. (I Peter 5:7)
God's
Word is full of these and so many more principles and promises.
In
all that I encounter in life, I choose to be thankful for all that
God has done and for the fact that He can be trusted. In my hardest days, I lean
more on Him -- He loves me, He cares for me, He strengthens me. He
is my Rock, my Fortress, my Guide.
I
am far from perfect in this journey of life; but I am determined to
continually refocus my gaze on my Heavenly Father, and I hope to
encourage others to do the same.
