Grief doesn’t run in a straight line. Anything but. We’d love to see the slow and steady climb from that deep, dark valley head right up the side of that mountain to joy. But, unfortunately…it just doesn’t happen that way. Grief runs all skwiggly-skwog…up and down, back and forth, around and around and around. 

At first you don’t think you are making any progress at all. You can’t feel anything but pain. You cant see two minutes in front of you. It’s a bloody wonder we survive at all. The world is dark. No color…no sound…and certainly no joy.

One of the things people had the hardest time understanding in my early writing was the “gems in the flames”. I always looked for those gifts God left for me along my path as he led me through the fire. This wasn’t just a Pollyanna attempt to keep my glass half full. This was an exercise in faith knowing that…even in my darkest, most painful moments…my cup was still full to overflowing because Jesus was in that valley with me. Urging me on. Asking me to trust Him and just take one more step.

It’s easy to have faith when things are looking good. When you’re standing on the mountaintop and you’re feeling great, you may even forget to thank God for carrying you through the muck. Or, you might throw a cursory “Thanks!” His way then think “I’ve got this!” No, it’s when you’re down at your lowest…when life is hard and painful and dirty and ugly…and you beg for God to catch you and bring you out of this that you lean in closest.

When you’re walking the road of grief and things hurt so bad and grieving tears your heart out of your chest, you may very well be tempted to take a shortcut. Circumvent the whole process, push that nasty wad of grief way, way down deep inside and slap a smile on your face. Because, let’s face it…that’s what the world is usually asking you to do. “Aren’t you over this yet?” “You just need to _____________” (fill in the blank with any of a zillion suggestions you receive). The sheer variety of platitudes is mind numbing. 

Oh, you can try to walk around it or climb under it, but one of these days, that bandage is going to come off and you’re going to have to face grief head on and it’s going to be ten times worse than it was before. At least, that’s what happened with me when I tried to date someone way…WAY too soon after Mr. Virgo died. 

Even four years after Mr. Virgo died and I started dating Mr. Fixit, I was still pretty broken. Fortunately, he has a huge heart and an infinite amount of patience with me. He allowed me to talk it all through with him. He’s a great listener. Then one day, I didn’t feel compelled to talk about it as much and my heart truly started to heal. 

Mr. Virgo came along when I was in a really vulnerable place. I had gone through a particularly difficult and ugly breakup/divorce five years before. And still, for the first year, that man listened oh so patiently as I went though all the gory details and told him every sad and angry story. He saw the potential and he invested in our love. 

Both of these men love me with the white hot heat of the sun. Neither relationship would have ever worked had I not already worked through a lot of the pain of grief…both that of divorce and that of death. Those two men I dated between Mr. Virgo’s death and Mr. FixIt’s arrival though? Oy! I bled all over them from wounds they never caused. It wasn’t fair to them. I hate that I was blind and couldn’t see past my own need for a tourniquet.

Fortunately, I did come to some understanding how unfair it was to another person to try to have a relationship too soon. That’s when I stopped trying to date and started a serious relationship with Jesus. Then…when I was in a much better place…I was ready to open my heart and try again. It isn’t easy. There’s nothing about grief that is easy. And if you are in the throes of it, you will not understand this, but…I’ve come to look at every situation with a level of Joy. Maybe not jump up and down happy-happy joy. But with the Joy of knowing I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and will never, ever leave me. I have Jesus to hang onto when I go through the worst of situations. THAT Joy….that Joy with a capital “J”. 

There is Joy in the scars because you have the opportunity to share your story with others. You have the opportunity to reach back to others coming behind you who are trying to find their footing in their pain. Your scars give you the freedom to love others. Your scars give you validity. They show others they aren’t alone. And when you can be there for another who hurts like you once hurt, you give the greatest gift possible. Empathy. 

You don’t have to have flowery words. You don’t have to offer Hallmark phrases. You can give a hug, sit quietly, or just be honest and say, “Whew…I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you.” It’s isn’t easy to be there for someone who’s in pain, but it is so fulfilling to know you can somehow help another human being when they’re hurting.

Being vulnerable. Being available. Being open and honest. That is where I find my Joy in grief.

❤️

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.”

Psalms 30:2 NIV