Recently I met with a friend who I hadn’t seen since before Nate’s cancer. After we shared a hello and a hug, she said, “Well, I sure can see this whole thing has taken a big toll on you.”
I think she meant I looked worn and haggard. That’s certainly how I felt. Ongoing grief is exhausting. Just when you think the worst is over, a new wave of sadness washes over you like an icy dousing without warning. It’s similar to watching a sand castle get swamped when a wave rolls past its natural boundary and overwhelms it.
The interesting thing about waves of grief is that they’re much like waves of water. They rush in, but they also rush out again, usually fairly quickly. I think of the fun of a wavy day at the beach when we were kids and how we bobbed on the surface, using the waves to our advantage, until a big one crashed overhead. Then it was tumble and toss, often with water going up our noses, until we could get our footing again and come up for air.
Waves of grief are much like that. We’re moving through a day successfully when unexpectedly a wave knocks us down and floods us with tears. That happened to me today as I sat at the dining room table writing a few notes. I was answering a letter in which a friend had written, “We want to continue getting together with you,” and all of a sudden I was crying. A picture of the four of us came to mind, engaged in lively conversation, except that it was only three of us, a sad scene I couldn’t bear.
My crying lasted about three minutes. I had to get up to find some Kleenex but shortly after that was back finishing the note. A wave had broken over me but had quickly receded, just like at the beach.
God separated the dry land from the sea at creation, defining the boundaries of the waves, and he separates waves of grief from those who mourn, defining those boundaries as well. In both cases, he lets the waves come, but it’s “this far and no farther” as he controls their power.
An interesting thing has happened to the waves of Lake Michigan this week. With the colder temperatures, water that has splashed up on the snow-covered beach has frozen into lumps of sandy ice. Each wave has added another layer to the lump until mounds of ice have grown too high to see over. Climbing up the slick hills is nearly impossible with regular snow boots. Jack has an advantage with his claws, but even he slips and slides backwards now and then.
The mounds of ice continue to grow in height. Wild waves hit the icy ridge with a crash so powerful it causes water to splash ten feet into the air, landing atop the hill and rapidly freezing, thus adding new height. Unlike summertime waves that roll up and quickly fall back, these waves rise and freeze, one atop another.
Grief is like that, too. If we hold back the tears and don’t allow ourselves to experience the sadness, grief freezes inside of us, building layer upon layer until it becomes a mountain beyond which we can’t see. It’s much better to let it surge up, come out in tears and then recede.
When I break down and have to stop what I’m doing to be sad for a few minutes, I ought to also be glad, knowing God’s healing is in process. He’s keeping a watchful eye on those waves, and when they wash up too far or come too close together, he moves in to force them back. If I let them come flowing out in tears, they’ll never be able to freeze up (and mound up) deep inside.
“You [Lord] rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them.” (Psalm 89:9)
“I [declares the Lord] made the sand a boundary for the sea, an everlasting barrier it cannot cross. The waves may roll, but they cannot prevail; they may roar, but they cannot cross it.” (Jeremiah 5:22)
Perfect description Margaret, grief is like that. Oh how blessed we are to have our loving Heavenly Father always protecting and going ahead of us. luv u
Two months ago the man I loved and planned to spend the rest of my life with ended our relationship suddenly and without explanation. It was the greatest loss I have yet experienced in this life and my sorrow has been great, though I know it pales in comparison to the waves of grief you are now facing. I just want you to know I read your beautiful observations and reflections everyday and they have been a huge encouragement to me. I have learned a lot about bringing glory to God in times of grief by your example. As you seek Him first in a very difficult time He has blessed you with deep insight and wisdom that abundantly blesses others, probably more than you know.
Oh Margaret, what a profound and timely description of grief and healing, and of our Father’s control over it. It is so comforting to see that He allows the waves to come, but also determines how far they can go and where they must stop. I need to listen more to His reminder not to let the waves freeze on my shore, but let them flow under his command for my healing. Thank you for letting God speak through you so beautifully.
Your daily words, Margaret, are what I’m also experiencing, almost everyday, as a new widow. I am sharing your blog with many friends. Thanks for “Caring and Sharing”!
Dear Margaret,
What incredible connections between God’s creation and God’s Word, and finding it’s application to your grief. I cannot speak about your grief as it is not a crucible I have been in, but I can speak about you.
I have to get back at Martha Messer for her wry comment a few blogs back. This morning, I was chatting with her before school started. As you can imagine, it gets quite loud at the hallway intersections before students head to class. Martha has a very large family like you. I don’t know what you do to gather your chicks under your wing, but apparently Martha whistles. In the midst of our conversation, Martha let out one of those whistles (a very lady-like one :)). Her son teaches here and she was getting his attention. What followed was amazing. Her grown son stopped in his tracks amidst the din and turned to find his mother. He had been trained to hear her “voice.”
Scripture tells us God spoke the world into existence, and Psalm 19 says every day it is pouring forth speech. What an amazing conversation those waves had with you this week. What is more amazing is how tuned your heart is to hear your Father’s voice. Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” Creation speech is available to everyone, but the secret things, the intimate messages, belong to those who fear Him. You have spent a lifetime sitting at the feet of your Shepherd, listening to His voice, and when He gave you a whistle through those waves and through His Word you turned your face to Him. And that gentle Shepherd who knows you so well, and who knows your present grief, let those tears fall and He gathered them into a bottle He is storing up for you, for some future presentation of which I am not sure.
David connected God’s creation and God’s Word in Psalm 19. Like him, the words of your mouth and the meditations of your heart are pleasing to God.
“Great Shepherd of Margaret’s soul, continue to tune her ear to Your voice. Speak peace into her waves.”
Love,
Terry
“Lord, for all those reading this blog, who share an unwanted kinship of loss, those who have heard Your voice for a long time, and those perhaps newly listening in, come to them in a language they can understand, and assures each that You are very acquainted with their unique and personal grief.”
Margaret, I know that so many folks have times of grief, but the wonderful blessing about you is that you are willing to get it out and share it so that we all are encouraged! I read each day and am totally amazed how you can always take an event and bring it back to a spiritual lesson! Our continued thoughts and prayers are going up for you and your wonderful family. I pray that 2010 will be a wonderful year of seeing God in every change of your life! Sincerely, Debbie Crady
Thank you so much for your description of the waves of grief. A year later after the loss of my husband the waves continue to overwhelm me at times and your blog has recently become such an anchor in this grief journey. God Bless you. I have shared your site with my grief support group. God is so using you to help others. Truly the body of Christ!