surrendering to loss

Note: Our church of eleven years closed at the end of May.  It's been a significant loss and writing has helped.  I know I am not alone in experiencing loss that is disorienting and heartbreaking so I have decided to share some of what I've written in the next few posts hoping it can be a reminder that we are not alone in our grief and that hope is a real thing - I wouldn't be able to write any of this if it wasn't. 

Recently my girls were asked to share a favorite childhood memory.  The memories came quickly and Lily talked about going over to her Auntie and Uncle's house to play with her cousins, she and Sylvia sitting under "their tree" and having a picnic lunch, it was "fun even when Auntie made me eat the vegetables," she said.  Amelia shared her memories of our church's fall retreat: experiencing the freedom of being off with her closest friends, knowing all the families that were there and the magic of a seemingly endless supply of hot chocolate.  Hearing them share these times was bittersweet for me.  As thankful as I am for these places they are both gone now.  

Listening to my girls share, I realized how angry I have been these past few months.  I've been angry we don't have any family near us and I've been angry that our church is gone.  My anger was okay for a time but it was a big bummer when it dawned on me I would much rather be angry than feel the loss of these things.  Especially when I would like nothing more than to move the heck on with all of it.  For the love.  But there is no real moving on when you are only angry and I have grown tired of all the anger (throwing fits seriously takes so much energy).  I also don't believe that's where Jesus wants me to be.  

What to do?  Well, I am choosing to give God my anger and to feel the pain of grief in the loss.  I have once again found a quiet spot to sit down on this path of following Jesus, opened my hands in surrender and chosen to be vulnerable...I have a feeling I will be here for a while.  I have discovered that when I release the anger I feel such deep sadness and that is not what I want to feel right now but I know I must grieve honestly to heal.  

I also unpleasantly discovered that when I'm not blinded by anger I feel the fear of questions like: will my girls be okay without living by relatives?  will we ever find a church home again?  do I have what it takes to start over?  I decided to just go ahead and ask God the fear-filled questions, take a deep breath and then let them go as best I can returning to the one thing I come back to over and over again: trust.  Trusting that God is good.  Trusting he is in control.  Trusting he has all lives (read: Amelia and Lily) in his hands .  I cannot say it enough that a daily renewal of trust in the Trinity is the only way for me - it preserves my sanity, informs my way of being/doing, and breathes new life into my soul.  

As I sit with the loss in this moment there are no answers, no clear directions.  But there is quiet and a peace that comes with the stillness.  There is an invitation to trust and also a letting go.  And for today, that is enough.