Layer by Layer

Found a writing of mine the other day. Truthfully it's not easy to share this but feel compelled to do so in the hopes that it will be a help and an understanding for someone. It transparently reflects a time in my life. If there is someone who needs these words, please know that my thoughts and prayers are truly with you. Don't give in and let grief destroy you. Here is my writing from 1998:

Affliction is a monster bigger than life itself. Its ugliness seethes at the soul, and has a distinct way of hammering at the physical being, making us weak, nauseated, dizzy . . . trying to destroy us. Every part that can be shaken, will be shaken. We question and blame ourselves and/or blame others. We'll withdraw from everything, wanting nothing or no one to enter our domain. We will close the door to reasoning . . . or on any given day, open it so wide that it will completely overwhelm us. We'll want to run as fast as we can and as far as we can hoping that in the journey we'll run past heartache and pain. We'll shut out people even friends and family. Sound awful? Subconsciously in not hearing or seeing, we can hide. At times, we don't think we can go on. The present seems hopeless, the past filled with suffering, and the future empty. These all are normal reactions, and will happen even when we have Jesus as our Savior. It is our human side . . . and the venting of a loss.

Grief's influences may vary, but the concept that they diminish is unfounded. Grief only covers itself in time by the mire of life, layer by layer. A reminder of our hurt comes when someone else is struck with grief, or in experiencing it once again ourselves . . . and it causes previous hurts to begin transition back to the surface. Time does change the forms of our sorrow. Many call this period a healing, but I've never been healed. I still hurt therefore I call it a regrouping. Regrouping is a gradual procession in the recesses of our mind, drilling its way into the heart. We learn to "cope" with what has been allotted in life; rearranging our thoughts, putting our loss in the back of our minds by placing other things at the front. In other words, we just sort our "laundry" differently. We throw out the normal process (logic), and start washing "whites with colors," thereby permitting command of our sanity.

I don't wish to intrude upon the private lives of others, and may I be forgiven for doing so; but we are blessed with wonderful family, friends, and a pastor who understood when we experienced the loss of our son. This is not told to recreate heartache, but to demonstrate grief's many faces. When our Mark was killed in a tragic accident, our pastor and wife were one of the first at the hospital. In helping our family, it brought to the surface their encounters with grief. Mark's funeral was held in the church they pastored; our pastor was one of those who officiated; and his wife wrote/sang a special song. The funeral was in the same building as their son's funeral and on the day that would have been their son's birthday. Mark was also laid to rest in the same cemetery. Did it uncover grief? Certainly. Was there hurt still there? Certainly.

God covers our hurts layer by layer with His love, and when it is to His glory He uncovers them as a solace for others. It allows us to personally feel others pain and to relate to their emotions. If we were completely healed from our griefs, God could never use us to help others.

When we lost our first grandchild Zoe, our pastor was one of the first at the hospital. Did it uncover grief again? Surely. Many times, he and his wife expressed words of encouragement, told stories of grace and mercy to uplift us above the hopelessness swirling in our hearts. I saw the hurt return to their eyes, saw the tears, and heard their broken voices. Layer by layer, grief again to uncover.

I too think of how in losing our granddaughter, layer by layer the hurt I had felt three years and 18 days earlier (losing our oldest son) was resurfacing. Words, sentiments, thoughts, pain all returned in my desire to comfort my children. I hurt for them, knew where they were, where they were going, and what life would offer. Then the torment in knowing how I would hurt again . . . and not wanting to hurt that way any more. Below is an expression I wrote:

Many pieces are missing from this heart of mine,
Ripped apart by the ravishment of time.
For just as life starts bringing back the joy of a smile,
Bitterness of heartache appears in another trial.

I inwardly suffering, encased in my personal grief,
While outwardly coping, praying for some type of relief.
Many ask how such a thing as this could happen,
I have not the answers to reveal life's devised fashion.

But there is One who has privilege to each missing piece,
Linking shattered hearts that are beyond human reach.
A puzzle created by pieces supremely selected,
Grouping life's mysteries to become divinely connected.

With the days, months and years, more and more of life covers my wounds. God continues to cast seeds of love to minister to me and mine. Today, the ground lies undisturbed, although fresh diggings of yesterday are evident. Without my wanting, my ground may be once again be tilled tomorrow, and if it be so, I must believe that God will help me to regroup . . . layer by layer.