Trusting Him Through Loss

I wrote this about a month or so ago, but I still thought I should share it with you. xxoo


I don't do well with goodbyes of any kind. Moving, death, ending relationships. I don't think anyone does well with goodbyes.

This week I found out my dear friend and hair stylist, Mr.Ken, is moving back to California. He will be the tenth friend of mine to announce they are moving in less than a year. I live in the very transient state of Florida, where not many people live whom are natives and where not many people live for very long. This is hard for my small-town-kinda-girl self, where generations live in the same area for many years.

Mr.Ken (center), and my dear friends, The Statons, who moved in March.

So, when I found out this week that he was leaving, I got that same yucky feeling I always do when I know I have to say goodbye. A tight, achy ball of emotion that wells up around my diaphragm, then pushes itself to the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow. The ache then makes it's way into my sinuses, right behind the backs of my eyes, begging to be released through my tears. But, most often, I hold back the flood and endure the pressure-like pain.        

When I got my hair done for the last time on Saturday,I honestly told him that even though people always say they are going to keep in touch, they rarely do, and even when they do, it is never the same. He told me that truthfully, he probably wouldn't keep in touch with me, except through maybe social media.

So,what is the proper way to say goodbye? 

Whenever I feel it's my last coffee or dinner with someone, or the last time I may see them at the nursing home or in the hospital bed, my senses are heightened and I try hard to make it wonderful, but I never leave feeling like it's wonderful and only that I tried too hard. 

I don't usually have the words to say. I feel the English language doesn't give me enough words to express my love or gratitude. "Keep in touch," or "I'll miss you," seem predictable and generic. But to avoid talking about missing them and avoiding the fact that our lives are about to significantly change sounds too disingenuous. I wish I could wrap up all the emotions and feelings I have of my friend or loved one into a nice little box, so they could pull each one out and know exactly how special to me they really are.

When goodbye is spoken, it hurts. It's just something this side of Heaven that we must learn to cope with and live through. I don't know if a heart is ever fully repaired after goodbye. Time helps some. 

As I'm writing this and thinking of my dear Grandad who died twelve years ago, I can still smell his soft, musky scent. I can still remember his hands, fingers slightly bent, tan with age spots and the appearance of many years of hard work, yet a kind, gentle softness. And, his index finger, stiff and not quite right from a ban saw accident. I can feel his wavy, gray hair between my fingers. I can see him leaning forward in his recliner, looking at me with satisfaction on his face and without saying a word, making me feel like the most important girl in the universe. And, now I cry. I hurt. I ache.

My dear Grandad with me as a young girl.

When our hearts are wounded, I think God wants us to not hold back the yuck inside. He wants us to release the yuck through our tears; get it out. Even if we have to cry until there are puddles and then wallow around in them. I believe he wants our fresh wound to be exposed and vulnerable. 

God does repair work and bandages up our wounds. At times in our lives our bandages may begin to slip off and we feel bare and cold again. But God fixes it back over the wound, then asks us to wait patiently until He can perfect our scars and brokenness when we get to Heaven. He will be able to answer our questions.

I shared the same birthday as my Grandad.

Until then, God gives us memories. He teaches us through each love and loss. We learn more about how to love with abandon. Forgiveness becomes easier, as does extending grace. Loss causes us to mean what we say and say what we mean. We pay more attention, give more time, adjust our priorities.

God divides our lives into seasons and he brings people in and out of our lives at different times. The challenge to finding peace again through loss is trusting God. It's acceptance that He knows what is best for me because He created me. It's believing that because God is the creator of the universe, His timing of events is perfect (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8). I may disagree or I may not understand the mysteries of the way he orchestrates His timing. Yet, I have to look up at His face, abide in His presence. I must let Him rock me in his bosom, like a child, crying because she doesn't understand why the world isn't always kind and why she doesn't always get what she wants- a happy, tearless, cookie-cutter-kind-of existence.

My family's pet, Luke, passed away a few months ago from a brain tumor. I cried and couldn't sleep for days.

I don't know if it's because I'm hormonal or just blue because the sky is gray, but today I cry. Just like the clouds fill up with moisture until they can no longer hold on to the heaviness, my eyes have decided the pain is just too much to hold onto and the rain begins. All the memories of loss come flooding back at one time and I decide it is time to mourn. Maybe tomorrow I will dance and laugh, but today is not that day.

Although Mr. Ken is special to me, it is not just him that I cry over. It's more that I cry over memories of fleeting seasons, friends, and loved ones. But even in the midst of events swirling around me, even if I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a whirlwind while watching the people I love and value most being carried up and away, I can find solace in His loving arms. Jesus heals. My world is constantly changing, yet He is my solid rock. He never changes. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Though people or possessions may be taken from me, I can be sure that His ways are perfect and right and that His promises are never broken.

Until next time, my friend, I'm going to leave you with some of God's promises that help me find my inner calm in the midst of outer chaos.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27)

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you. (Isaiah 54:10)

Then finally, this last verse because it reminds me we are never alone in our feelings and our sorrow, because Jesus has been there.

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. (Isaiah 53:3)

Dear Lord, our Comforter and Healer, I am thankful for all the people you've brought into my life that have been special to me and have now moved on to be with you or into new seasons of their lives. I know you have a purpose for the paths you cross and the paths you uncross. Give me comfort today and help me to trust that you can heal and give me peace. In Jesus' name, Amen.