I sat down on my bedroom floor this afternoon and all I was attempting to do was look in my mirror and put on a little make-up before heading to Arkansas.
My kids, who are home from college, invited me to go to a coffee shop with them. The thought of being in one of my favorite places with some of my favorite people made me a little giddy. A few minutes later I was laid out on my bedroom floor looking up at my ceiling with a steady stream of tears running down both sides of my cheeks.
I almost felt like I was doing something wrong but had a sweet sense that God was with me and was asking me to pause. I didn’t have time to let tears flow, but even more, I didn’t have the ability to stop them from coming. I hadn’t applied my mascara yet, so I wouldn’t need to take the time to reapply.
What initially felt like an inconvenient wave came with, “I’m not asking you to try and stop this grief, but I am asking you to keep moving forward.”
Moving forward for me is counterintuitive. Learning how to slow down, pause and sometimes wait is not my bent. To understand that productivity is first and foremost recognizing God’s pursuit of me before I frantically try and pursue other things…even my favorite coffee shop with some of my favorite kids.
God’s knowledge of us is deeply personal and His plan for me will be different than His plan for you. The multifaceted wisdom of God doesn’t miss a thing about how we need to heal, how long a season it will be, who will be a part of that and who wont. I trust Him fiercely in every detail of this season of lament.
My desire to learn and grow as a counselor is no doubt taking new shape as I consider things I never knew or understood for lack of experience. I would rather have my dad than this experience but if my dad could come back to me, he wouldn’t. With that certainty, I celebrate his new life in Heaven, even in the loss of his life in mine on earth.
I’m learning new things about God, myself and others in this season of lament. I’m seeing reflections of His beauty in others and myself that have been veiled up until now. Those reflections are mixed with awe, wonder and a sense of mystery that is causing my heart to be even more smitten by Jesus. His nearness in friendship and protection makes me want to shout from the mountaintops, “Come and see!” Come and see what your physical eyes can only see if your spiritual eyes open up.
As I write, my heart is stirred that God has given us the gift of emotions, along with His empowerment to be led by His spirit in them. In fact, it’s in the experience of our emotions that our choices demonstrate our love for Him and our trust in Him.
Robots have no choice. They do what they are programmed to do. We, on the other hand, do what we want and with everything in me, I want to embrace both the pain and beauty of this season of lament. No rush, no worrries…only deepening love for the One who weeps with me and you.