Such a great cloud of witnesses

I probably shouldn’t write. That “Do as I say, not as I do” quote could easily be applied to my written musings. God, in His infinite wisdom, made me a math teacher, so my writing skills are rarely called into question. So why do I keep coming back to this? Because it brings some order to my random catalog of a brain. It may not make any sense to anyone else, but it tends to bring some sanity to the insanity of my emotions and mind.

Currently, the play-by-play in my head centers on grief. Last May, an aunt passed away; last September, my Grandma Merrell passed away; last Saturday night, an uncle passed away. There is great hope and even joy in each case, since they are now with the Lord. Yet, my mind is full of uncertainty, conflicting emotions, and many questions:

What should grief look like?

How do I grieve well?

  

How do I honor the life of my loved one?

  

How can it be that, for a brief moment, my world stands still, while everyone else’s world spins on?

  

Why does it take something as harsh as death to force me to stop and take a look at how I’m living my life?

  

Why didn’t I say all the things I should have said?

  

Did they know how much they were loved?

  

Am I seizing every opportunity I am given?

Depending on the day or even the moment, my answer to each question changes. And, perhaps, that is in fact the answer to my first two questions. Maybe I just need to give myself permission to fully feel the joy, the sorrow, the regret, the hope, and finally the reality of life without them. It’s going to be an ugly mess, wading through each of those things, with no definite time table as to when I can move on to a new emotion. But God truly outdoes Himself, turning our messes into beautiful masterpieces – and there’s true, feel-it-in-my-bones hope in that promise.

In honoring their lives, I can only say thank you for all that they did for me:

Aunt Rhoda sent me birthday, Christmas, and Easter cards into my 30’s. It had been years since I had seen her, yet she made sure I knew that she loved me and cared about me.

Grandma didn’t always have a lot to say, but she was always present. She was invested in my life – holding my hand through an orthodontist appointment, hugging me when I came home from a rough day at school, visiting her kids and grandkids wherever life took them. She was a consistent, Godly presence in my life.

Uncle John showed me how to conquer fear and actually enjoy new things. After a rather terrifying ride on the TimberWolf with him, I learned my fear of heights could be set aside for a trip to Worlds of Fun. With tips from a fellow left handed person, I learned to actually enjoy bowling and golfing. He was one of my educators and encouragers, even though I never took one of his classes.

I miss all of them. I hope they knew I loved them. I’m glad I’ll get to see them again.