The earth became blurred as the salt tears were pulled up from the depth of my being and the dirt pushed back into my knees and hands. I wailed there in grass & ground and pounded my fist firm into the dust where her body now lays. All I ever knew as normal was ripped from my marrow and forever bleeds with change.
"She's gone! She's gone!" were the words I had just heard through the phone now laying on the grass. The call I feared would greet me, came that day my little sister said she could't 'do this' anymore and made her goodbye final by ending her life.
Grief drains like nothing I've ever known. I will be on the fringes of feeling again and then I'm back where I started. How do I truly live when loss has stolen so much breath? How do I pick up the shattered glass when it cuts each time I try?
I want to stuff the pain deep, push it down and keep it dark where it came from.
Do you know this battle too? Where does your pain hide safe?
Is it in a glass-blown bottle filled red ? In the loud silence between you and your spouse? In a past kept quiet from the shame of strong hands that never should have touched? Is it snug tight in the guilt of wonder if others knew how much you longed to not be a mom right now? Is it in the escape of a flickering screen capturing you in for hours at night? Or does your pain lie quiet in the ground too, with the piercing image of a rectangle-shape hole dug next to all the other gray stone plaques and you’ve chose to never speak of it again?
Private, silent pain, as sharp as it stings, eventually becomes numb, doesn't it?
I think of the weary woman, who knew blood well. She reached toward His fringes to feel again.
To touch hope through the threads of Jesus garment didn't come without a cost. For healing to weave in from those corner pieces of His robe would cost her much. Fear had to fall back into her grave for the dry soul to feel again. Not only to feel but to hope. For He knows blood well too.
It's the reaching that is so scary. What if nothing came of the fringes? What if the bleeding stayed until she bled no more? What if reaching means more salted tears, more fetal curled nights or
even more blood, for me?... for you? …a weary woman too?
I've learned times too many how trauma welcomes, feeds, & makes friends with anxiety. How did Jesus reach up with a still soul knowing this very act was taking Him to thorns, whips, blood and spit? Toward agonizing soul cramps & a carved tree made so the metal could plunge through skin & bone? To the place where sin would settle upon the spotless, "I AM" and His own Father would turn away in disgust? How?
How did He quiet His soul when HE KNEW what was ahead?
Where do we begin when this fear grips stronger than gravity? Jesus Was and He Is so we could reach but how do we?
I am striving stretch my fragile fingers toward His fringes through a book called, A Thousand Gifts. Ann Voskamp pierces my numb heart with her words.
"Trust is the bridge from yesterday to tomorrow, built with planks of thanks. Remembering frames up gratitude. Gratitude lays out the planks of trust. I can walk the planks-from known to unknown--and know: He holds. I could walk unafraid."
I cannot be thankful and fearful in the same moment. But I can reach toward His fringes when I fear and when I hurt with hate in the ungrateful way I choose anxiety so often, I can fumble for his robe.
I can begin to hold my hand toward Him rather that keep my wounds secretly safe.
“Let me dwell in your tent forever!
Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings!
Selah Psalm 61:4
Then it’s the times like these when my husband turns on Robert Earl Keen and reaches his hand out towar mine ... he whirls me in the kitchen and we step in two. I flash back to the first time we two-stepped in my four squared dorm room walls and I see ever so beautifully that the fringes are now being held out to me...
I pause.
And I am Thankful.
Other Helpful ways I’ve reached for His Wings through seasons of pain or grief
1. Christ-centered Christian Counseling * there is NOTHING shameful in uncovering shame
3. Talking to God, honestly. * Even if that meant screaming at Him~ He can handle it.
4. Finding one friend to talk & pray with openly
5. Exercise, Gardening, Photography, Reading & Writing * Finding things that GIVE life
6. Testing to see if I required helpful medication
7. Taking my anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication until my counselor & Dr. say otherwise
8. Signing up my 2 & 4yr. old boys for Mothers-day-out
* There is no shame or guilt in needing a healthy break, especially if you are a stay-at-home Mom & have no family in town to offer help during such difficult times.
9. Letting my spouse in as much as I can.
10. Sleeping when I need to sleep.
11. Giving myself grace. Getting through the day is an accomplishment in itself.
Emily is a full-time Mom, part-time Photographer through her business Phero Photos , and the wife of a Jr. High English & Reading teacher who recently finished his Masters from Redeemer Theological Seminary in Dallas. She enjoys reading & writing poetry when she can.
You can See more of her work at ...
or
pherophotos.com
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