Last week I made the mistake of attending a funeral.
I honestly didn’t think that much about it or what kinds of feelings my attendance would conjure up until I was asked to SING at the funeral. I passed on that, knowing that I wouldn’t be ok to stand up in front of people. If I’ve noticed anything over the past week, it’s that music makes me cry. Especially worship music.
I’m not mad at God. Worshipping Him is a pleasure, especially now. But what I feel when music comes on is something indescribable. My heart hurts and I can’t breath, like the air gets caught in the back of my throat and burns.
What I feel is everything I’m pushing back down in my belly. All the feelings of sadness and doubt and heartache. All the grief that I’m trying to stop from pouring out of me.
Music keeps pulling it back out.
It was at this funeral, as my mom and my sister were up there singing 10,000 Reasons (a song that I LOVE to sing), with tears pouring down my face and onto my daddy’s shirt, that I realized something….
It’s ok to grieve.
And I hadn’t let myself grieve properly.
I’ve been told that I’m so strong. That I’m a testament to God’s grace. That if others were in my position, they wouldn’t be functioning quite so well.
All I can say back is that it’s God’s strength and not my own. And yes, He has given me an unreal sense of peace about this whole messy crappy situation. But there is also a lot of hurt that I’m carrying around. And for me to act like there isn’t, is, well, a disservice to anyone that truly is grieving.
Sometimes I’m not ok. Sometimes I can’t help but cry.
Last Friday, I looked down at my left hand and saw the tiny hole where my IV went in for my D & C and I was reminded that it had only been a week. A week since my life had switched directions. I cried.
Every time I’m in the shower, I look down at my belly and rub it. My belly that was just starting to round. And I cry.
Every time I want to have sex with husband, but I can’t because it’s too soon. I cry then.
At random moments, I begin to tense my jaw up, pushing back tears.
As much as I want to desperately grasp “normal” again and fast forward through these days, I can’t. And I shouldn’t.
Because it’s ok to grieve.
Katie said it best in a text she sent me right after I told her. She has been such a great source of comfort to me during this time. She said:
God has you so heavy on my heart right now. He wants you to know…you will face trouble in this life. But more importantly, you will ALWAYS have Him. He understands when no one else does. He holds you in His arms and lets you wail and rage and beat your fists on His chest and the whole time He is just holding you and whispering how PRECIOUS you are to Him. Run to Him, even though you’re angry. Let Him heal you. There is no other way.
There is no other way.
There will always be grief and heartache.
But there will always be beauty for ashes as well.
It is that hope and knowledge of greater things to come that silences my tears and makes me keep stepping forward.
One day at a time.