Wall of Grief
I saw her across the pool, sitting alone. For many years she and I have sat poolside while our kids took swim lessons, but I have never spoken to her.
But today.
About three months ago she lost her 16 year old daughter in a car accident, and it was all over the local news. My heart was heavy for her at the time, and then, life moved on for me and I forgot.
But today.
Last night, in Bible study we talked about keeping community with other believers, shoulder to shoulder, but also discussed the importance of looking outward at world. I and thought, that's great, but what can I do? I am swamped with the daily tasks of housework and family life; how can I look outward, when looking inward, all I see in insurmountable hills and chaos? I need that looking inward at other believers, to keep me on the straight and narrow, to keep me sane.
But today.
Today, I could no longer be quiet. I could no longer not talk to her. God just wouldn't leave me alone. And as I walked all the way across the pool deck, I kept reminding myself to look outward. To be moved with compassion and look at her. To see her pain and her grief and walk right in. To forget about feeling nervous and to treat her as I would want to be treated: to be noticed, to have my grief acknowledged.
There is a wall around those who are mourning, and it's intimidating. But once we scale that wall, once we climb to the top and look on the other side, we see someone just like us. Someone who is hurting and feels alone and wonders why? And once we sit down next to them, their face opens up, and their wounds are right on the surface, right next to us. And it's not so scary after all.
Today I looked outward. Today I climbed a wall. But only because of Christ, the one who was moved with compassion for multitudes and poured Himself into them, was I able to do this one, small act.
Today.
But today.
About three months ago she lost her 16 year old daughter in a car accident, and it was all over the local news. My heart was heavy for her at the time, and then, life moved on for me and I forgot.
But today.
Last night, in Bible study we talked about keeping community with other believers, shoulder to shoulder, but also discussed the importance of looking outward at world. I and thought, that's great, but what can I do? I am swamped with the daily tasks of housework and family life; how can I look outward, when looking inward, all I see in insurmountable hills and chaos? I need that looking inward at other believers, to keep me on the straight and narrow, to keep me sane.
But today.
Today, I could no longer be quiet. I could no longer not talk to her. God just wouldn't leave me alone. And as I walked all the way across the pool deck, I kept reminding myself to look outward. To be moved with compassion and look at her. To see her pain and her grief and walk right in. To forget about feeling nervous and to treat her as I would want to be treated: to be noticed, to have my grief acknowledged.
There is a wall around those who are mourning, and it's intimidating. But once we scale that wall, once we climb to the top and look on the other side, we see someone just like us. Someone who is hurting and feels alone and wonders why? And once we sit down next to them, their face opens up, and their wounds are right on the surface, right next to us. And it's not so scary after all.
Today I looked outward. Today I climbed a wall. But only because of Christ, the one who was moved with compassion for multitudes and poured Himself into them, was I able to do this one, small act.
Today.
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