The Grief Wing

I started to title this the Grief Room, but in this temple it seems to have an entire wing. Sort of a split level actually. There's the traditional section of grieving for friends and family that have left this life, then there's the section that grieves things in this life - like the autism stuff, and broken relationships, and dreams/hopes that didn't materialize. I'm not good with grief. Never have been, not sure I ever will be. The last week has forced me to spend some time in the grief wing and I don't like it.

A week ago my best friend's dad passed away. As I talked to her on the phone I found that I had way too little to offer. Had I been there I would have wrapped her up in my arms, held her and prayed over her, but you can't do all of that on the phone. I did get to go down for the visitation and funeral. I felt so inadequate. I wanted to make things better for her, and I just couldn't.

Trying to be there for her and spending time in prayer over this loss had me wondering around my own grief history. I literally had images of wondering around in a wing of the temple looking at all the faces like they were pictures on the wall. Umpa James, Daddy Bill, Papa & Bebe, Sandy (my father-in-law), and several other family members floated through my thoughts. Then I turned to another wall and saw others - Mark, the brother of my high-school sweetheart - the first time I dealt with a death I really didn't know how to handle. Tess' grandmother, Ruth Dooley, Wayne Wright, Jim Hance, and Bradley. They all (and others) filtered through my thoughts, the specifics of their place in my life rolling over me in little waves. It wasn't fun. I don't like the grief wing, but I think I said that already.

Today another picture got hung on the wall. An old youth group pal was killed in a car accident this morning. Kevin's picture is right next to Brad's in my head. So sad. A wife and two kids left. Parents loosing a child. I don't understand it. I don't want to understand it. I don't know what to do with it.

Sadly, my flesh becomes strong when my spirit is weak and I seem to attempt comfort in ways that are not healthy. Grieving the loss of my grandfathers (or rather, not grieving them as the case really was) is what triggered the major depression I survived in my early 20's. That's where the initial weight gain came from - that depression. So this last week as I wondered around in my grief wing I found myself making bad choices. I ate fatty foods and I drank DP and I really just wanted to be left alone in a quiet room.

HOWEVER, I choose not to stay there. I know that as I get older I will have to visit this part of the temple from time to time. Some of those visits will be harder than others. And I suppose at some point in this life the frequency of those visits will increase. The beautiful part is that now I know that it is just a small part of the temple. It's not the whole thing! It doesn't have to take over. I can go there and mourn and cry and ask God to help me get up and go back to another part of this life that he created for me. And He'll pick me up, dry my tears, and carry back into the joy that exists in my everyday life. He'll show me the miracles that walk around in plain sight. He'll remind me that He is in control and that as long as I love and trust Him I have nothing to worry about. He says to me,"When you don't know what to do with it, just give it to Me. It's really Mine anyway."

I know these things to be true because God is in every room on every level, in every closet, and under every bed. I don't have to run around looking for Him. I simply call out His name and then feel His presence because this temple is His. Thank you Father for being present in every moment.