Spring?

Do you see what that is??? That is a lilac bud! Whoohoo! This weekend we turn our clocks ahead. I am getting itchy to be hanging laundry out again. Could it be... Spring? Bring it on!

I love the first signs of spring. This week has been long and low for me so far. The little hints of spring we are getting are so encouraging. To make a long story short, I was able to attend both services Sunday. Then Monday and Tuesday I never even got dressed. Monday was quite emotional for me, and Tuesday I was just plain drained. Today I was able to resume a very moderate amount of activities. Such is the path of grieving I guess.

I have been journaling my thoughts, even if I haven't been updating here. I finished the book of Psalms the other day and was going to go back and read it again, but decided to start with Job. The following is just random impressions and thoughts about different verses. I hope you have some coffee, because this might get a little long, since I am "making up" for several days.

Job 7:13 "When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint..." Job knew all about the "safety zones" we set up for ourselves when grieving. See, I thought when I first entered into all this, that "safety zone" was a modern idea. Not so. It is apparently old as the hills. My safe zone is my bedroom. That is my spot to get away from the rest of the world. I do my best to keep it pleasant, cheerful, and welcoming. I go in to rest.. mentally and physically, and to be refreshed spiritually.

Job 6:1-4 " But Job answered and said, Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together! For now it would be heavier than the sand of the sea: therefore my words are swallowed up. For the arrows of the almighty are within me, the poison whereof drinketh up my spirit: the terrors of God do set themselves in array against me." That describes well some of the grieving process. That heaviness that you can't shake. You smile, laugh, converse, and function in a normal, everyday fashion, but that heaviness is with you all the time. It is constant and you learn to live with it. Your words do indeed feel swallowed up, for you find you can't answer simple questions like "How are you doing?" That can be very difficult to answer. Or "what do you want me to do?" is a hard one to. Frankly, most of the time I can't think of one thing that anyone can do. "Do you want me to do ___________ (you fill in the blank)?" Honestly, I don't know.

"... the poison whereof drinketh up my spirit;" makes me think of that verse in Proverbs about how a joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit drieth up the bones. That broken spirit reminds me of the meditating I have been doing on being a broken vessel. Depression, grieving, trauma of any kind, can break you. And it feels like life has been sucked out of you and left your bones dry. It takes a lot of time to "recover" from traumatic events.

Why do we feel we have to "jump" back into our routines and daily tasks, and act like we are feeling better than we do? We do we feel like we have to smile when we just want to cry? I have had wonderfully understanding people around me. Personally, I think the pressure I feel comes from what I unconscienciously know of our culture. I would like to be able to freely say, when asked how many children do I have, to answer : "Seven.. 6 living here and one waiting in heaven." I don't say it because people in our culture don't like to deal with anything that isn't pleasant or satisfying. The ironic part of all this is that by not allowing the natural grieving process to happen at a natural, slow, healthy pace, we are actually prolonging the healing. But isn't that the American way? To indulge in short-sighted, instant gratification, and avoid the unpleasant or uncomfortable truths at any cost? Some native American tribes allow A YEAR of grieving before they expect to see any improvement. A year! If you think about it that makes perfect sense. In a year's time you will hit all the "firsts" after a death. It gives the loved ones opportunity to hit each "first" with the freedom to grieve as hard as they want. And to take plenty of time to process the loss.

It has been about 9 weeks since Aaron died. Am I "improving"? Does it matter? According to the Indian custom, my grieving process has barely begun. But to answer, yes, I think every week I am able to cope a little bit better. The fog of anguish lifts a little bit more. Am I still grieving? Absolutely. Am I changed? Yes. No one can stay the same after a loss. You grow and learn from the experience. Do I still crave my "safety zone"? Oh yes... constantly. But I now can survive outside my safe place for periods of time. I have one foot back into "normal" life. Kind of like easing back into the ocean. Just a little bit at a time. Easing my way in, slowly, getting used to the rhythm and temperature of the water. If the culture today had its way, I would run and jump right in. But with grieving you can't do that, or it comes back to bite you. Your brain needs time to process everything all over.

Okay.. I have totally digressed from Job! Sorry about that. :)

Job 10: 9 and 10: " Remember, I beseech thee, that thou hast made me as the clay; and wilt thou bring me into dust again? Hast thou not poured me out as milk, and curdled me like cheese?" I love the imagery here that Job uses. I have to admit that in times when I have read these passages before, I thought perhaps Job was being a little melodramatic. But I know now, he was understating it. Some days you feel as wimpy,used up, and sour as curdled cheese! It is true.

I have more thoughts on my reading today from Job 23. I won't type out the whole chapter but just quickly give some of my thoughts, briefly.

If anyone had reason to grieve, or be resentful, or bitter, it was Job. He lost 10 children, his wealth, and the love of his wife (or certainly her support) in one day. Remember, she is the one that told him to curse God and die. What a loving wife, eh? She couldn't stand being near him. His friends (and I use that term loosely) were a torment, not a comfort. Talk about being alone in grief, anguish, and misery. No wonder he feels like God isn't around! (verses 8 and 9).

For all that, Job still believed in God's goodness. Romans 8:28 wasn't written yet either, but Job understood and believed that truth (v. 10 ). I don't think it was lip service or spiritual posturing either. Job believed it, to the core of his soul.

Verse 16- Job knew where all the trial were coming from. He knew that God had appointed the path he was on. He didn't understand the "why" about it, but simply trusted God. I wonder if Job now realizes his story is in God's word, and has since been a help and encouragement to millions?