Carrying Our Grief

It seems like grief is the new cool thing in pop culture. Everywhere I turn it seems like grief is the topic of every interview I read, every podcast I listen to, or conversation I have. Just this morning I was listening to an interview with singer-songwriter Ed Sheeran and he was talking about his new album and how it was greatly influenced by the grief he is still experiencing because of the death of a dear friend. I wrote about grief a few weeks ago, so maybe my grief antenna is up. Like when you buy a red car and then you start to notice all of the other red cars on the road. However, I don’t think that is it.

It's hard to believe, but it has been three years since the world shut down. Tanya and I were just watching some trash reality show (Below Deck) that was filmed right when the lockdowns were coming about. Everyone on the show was like, “This is weird, but this will probably be over in a few weeks.” We just laughed because that is what most of us thought.

When we were in the thick of the pandemic I remember reading or hearing somewhere from some professional mental healthcare person that people wouldn’t begin to process all that was happening for a few years. This person said we could expect a wave of grief to come a few years down the road. I heard a similar statement from a pastor who served in Manhattan during 911. He commented how a wave of grief didn’t really sweep over the city until a few years after the attacks.

So, maybe that is what is happening now. We are all finally catching our breath and just starting to process the last few years. Yes, the world seemed to shut down and our lives all drastically changed, but that didn’t mean life stopped. We welcomed our first child into the world at a time when we weren’t sure if it was safe to have friends and family come over and meet him. But that didn’t mean we could just hit pause and wait to figure out how to be parents. Just like we couldn’t hit pause on our lives the normal tragedies of life didn’t pause either. If anything, the pandemic just highlighted how hard and broken life can be.

So, what do we do with all this?

We grieve.

But how do we grieve when life still happens?

When your kid still gets an ear infection.

When the bills still have to be paid.

When your spouse walked out but your kids still need you to be present.

When your heart is shattered into a million pieces but you still have to get out of bed, brush your teeth, show up to work, and be a functional human being for 12-16 hours a day?  

What do we do?

I was reading a passage from the book of Isaiah a few days ago. This is what I read,

Isaiah 46:3–4

         “Listen to me, O house of Jacob,
                   all the remnant of the house of Israel,
who have been borne by me from before your birth,
  carried from the womb;
even to your old age I am he,
  and to gray hairs I will carry you. 
I have made, and I will bear;
I will carry and will save.”

These words were written to a people who were grieving the circumstances of their own rebellion. Their future looked bleak. Their hope was at an all-time low. They were not living their best life now. Yet, God said,

“Listen to me… I will carry you.”

As I read these words, I got this image of God carrying me. I was frustrated because this image came to my mind.

I loathe Christian subculture art and memes like this one. But yet, this one struck a chord with me. Most of us don’t have the luxury of hitting pause on life to grieve whatever it is we are grieving. Maybe we can slow down for a few days, maybe a few weeks at most, but the reality is that we all have lives to live. We have people who are relying on us.

I am learning that as I go about my day my grief will always be with me. At times I don’t really notice it and at other times it crushes me. It is in those moments that I am learning to surrender myself to God and allow him to carry me. This takes humility. It means I have to admit that I am not always OK. I am having to admit and embrace that I have physical, emotional, and spiritual limitations. I have to admit that I am not strong enough to carry myself, let alone those around me. I am coming to grips with the fact that I am a creature, not the Creator.

So, I am trying to listen to God and trust that he will remain faithful to his promise to carry me today, to carry me tomorrow, and to carry me until all the hairs on my head fade to gray. Lord, I believe, but help my unbelief.

Grace and peace ‘til we rise in glory.