Consolation

 

It’s nearly been a year since my Mom died. It’s been a quick year, but a hard year. Grief is not something that you can really prepare for or understand. It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t linear, there is no timeline that fits all. It’s unpredictable.

I’ll be fine one moment. Better than fine, even. Happy. Then the next as I’m doing something mundane like putting away groceries in my pantry the grief comes at me quick and the next thing I know, I’m sobbing on my kitchen floor. Then I get up and I’m okay again. It’s weird.

I can say it honestly now- this past year has been the toughest I have experienced emotionally. It forced what I tried to bury up to the surface and made me look reality in the face. The reality is not pretty and it is not what I want and it will always be something that I wish were different. But it will never be different. I accept that. I do. I accept that, but it’s painful.

I didn’t start writing this to talk about the pain though. I wanted to share the consolation.

My sisters and I were in my mother’s ICU room at a Dallas hospital when she departed. The nurse called her time of death and I wanted to hold her hand, so I did. I hadn’t held her hand since I was a little girl and I noticed how much smaller her hand was than mine. I touched her forehead and said through tears “the struggle is over.” It was the first thought that I had when she was gone. My sisters and I were all sobbing and then held each other for I’m not sure how long. We were hurting, but in that hurt, I also felt a sense of peace. A peace that doesn’t make sense.

That same nonsensical peace has surrounded me throughout acknowledging how my mother lived and died. It has surrounded me even as I have been shaking and sobbing with grief. It has surrounded me as I’ve really started to miss her and wish I could talk to her. It has surrounded me as I have faced the truth about her brokenness and mine.

This peace is the truth and has a name. His name is Jesus Christ. I know a lot of people that believe in this but will still get uncomfortable if one gets “too religious” for them. I also know those who aren’t sure they believe, because if He is so good, why doesn’t He just come down here and fix everything bad?

He loves us too much to take away our freedom to choose Him. If it was forced, it wouldn’t be true love. So He will never force himself on you but will ALWAYS be available to you. To comfort. To console.

I know the world will tell you that you don’t need Him, but that’s a lie. I also know that the world will tell you to keep this relationship quiet, don’t embarrass yourself with all of this God talk, but that’s a lie as well. Everyone deserves to know and experience this love, this peace, this truth. It’s okay for you to be courageous and share it with someone too. Everyone deserves this consolation. It is free to all of us.

It is this consolation that helps me through my grief. It is this consolation that helps me in my marriage. In my parenting. In my work. Every aspect of my life is made better because of the trust that I place in Jesus. I’ve heard a metaphor for Christianity that goes something like “being a Christian is just like having a coat in the winter. It’s cold outside either way, but the people wearing the coat have an extra layer of comfort.” Maybe that metaphor is silly, but it makes sense to me as someone who has lived both kinds of lives. Having the coat gives me hope and gives me strength. It makes me okay even when things aren't okay, and most importantly, helps me to remember each day who I really am.

My prayer for you is that you have the same consolation in your life. The same consolation that provides security, hope and even joy. You are deserving and worthy of all that is good, and you are so very loved. That is the truth!

Until next time . . .