Hello My Name Is Grief

I believe it is often misunderstood that grief is only associated with death. To me, grief is a deeper kind of sadness we feel when facing any kind of loss.

Grief takes on many forms. It wears many faces, some we often don't recognize until they’ve closed in on us, backing us into a corner in a dark alley demanding we empty our pockets of anything precious. Grief is slow, it creeps up on you like a vine that scales the side of a weathered house. Grief is violent, it knocks you off your feet and rips you from simple joys. Grief is heavy, sinking you to the bottom of a cold dark place, and often we can’t help but let it. For me, grief was inescapable. Everything hurt, there was no rest from it. Distraction was a reminder that there was something I needed to be distracted from. You can never fully know someone else’s grief, no matter how similar the circumstances. Each person suffers uniquely. That's why, when my grief hit, it was unlike anything I had ever heard described. Because it was unique - it was mine. And while that is a lonely feeling, it is also a possessive one.

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This is a description of how I view grief after being in a place of significant loss. Now, standing on the other side and seeing the fruit from the pruning I am grateful for the emotions brought on by such an ominous feeling.

Our Heavenly Father does not let us suffer alone or without purpose. Jesus, while on earth, was no stranger to heartbreak. In Luke 22 it is written that “He prayed more fervently, and he was in such agony of spirit that his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood.” (v. 44). This was Jesus praying to His

Father before taking on the cross, asking if there was another way.

Jesus knows what it is like to have your heart broken and to be betrayed. There was no greater pain than Jesus on the cross - the physical agony, the separation of a Holy Son from His perfect Father because He bore our sin. While in the garden, on the cross, Jesus experienced heartbreak and betrayal worse than we can ever imagine. He makes himself relatable to us. [2 Corinthians 4: 8-10]