..solemn thoughts for a dose of redirection..

I am so afriad of the people I love dying, that I forget to think about my own mortality. I worry so much about the next time I will have to go through this and miss someone else, that I forget that I too can die. It is of course perhaps more worrisome to think about being on earth living through life without a person I love. It's much more practical for me to be upset about another death of a loved one because I know so well what it's like, and I learned much but I don't want to know it again. It's much more difficult to remember or think about my own death because I have only ever been alive, so naturally I feel immortal. When I do think about my own dying, I get very lonely. I understand why people worry about being forgotten. I feel so scared that my loved ones will hurt like I hurt when my dad died. I am sad to think that I wouldn't be on this earth anymore, which is all I've ever known. I don't like to think about my own death one day because I just don't think I can die.

Tonight I allowed my thoughts to dwell on my mortality and the possibility that God could take me at any time. He is a good God and I usually know that He has loving plans. I cried a lot. I cried about things that may not ever happen to me. Somewhere in all my worrying and sadness God redirected my focus on my life. I don't know what He did, but I instantly had a change in mind. Life became a little more fragile to me, like glass. Having a wedding isn't a necessity or even a rite of passage as a human being, it's just something I can enjoy. Maintaining my friendships isn't a necessity or an obligation in life, it's just something I can enjoy. And for the sake of my own story, having an awesome college experience is not a necessity for a good life, but those who get to have one get to really enjoy that. And thank God for that. Somehow life in a general sense became a little less stressful and a little more peaceful.

I want to stop trying to conquer my life, and just enjoy it.

I am mortal and life is delicate.

Ecclesiastes 11:8-10
"However many years anyone may live, let them enjoy them all. But let them remember days of darkness for there will be many. Everything to come is meaningless.
You who are young, be happy while you are young and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart and whatever your eyes see, but know that for all these things God will bring you into judgement.
So then, banish anxiety from your heart and caset of the troubles of your body, for youth and vigor are meaningless."


This is probably a depressing idea to some, but to me it was just the breath of fresh air that I needed from God.

.my obsessive search for meaning.

I have been trying so hard to find some benefit to all of this. I am storing this experience up, taking everything in. I have indeed taken seriously the phrase "that which doens't kill you makes you stronger." I've grieved like a pro. [or so you think from the outside] I have squeezed life lessons out of my dads death like I was wringing out a wet towel.

Grief is like a dear friend to me, having taught me deep valuable lessons. I have studied it, and attacked it head on. I have gotten many many comments about my strength, only reinforcing my need to look strong. I have studied as many angles of grief as one can when in the midst of it. My mental constructs are all perfectly organized with compartments and labels which I make sure to shine every once in a while for when I will need to whip out some brilliant personal experience that someone else might benefit from.

Yes, I have listened. God sure will use this in the future.

I realized this: It didn't kill me, I am stronger. God will use this for good. So what now...

I fill my life with organized technicalities so that I won't have to just give my heart to God. I have put forth so much effort to gain benefits and rewards from this experience (benefits and rewards from both the eyes of the Christian community and secular community, who's not up for some strength and goodness?). I study, I read, Job is like my best friend, I get my necessary crying in in order to have a healthy grief experience, I talk openly about it, I listen to others, but the very last thing I want to do, the very thing I work SO hard to avoid, is just crying to God. Literally. I will do anything else before that.

Because yes, I am stronger. Yes, people will and have already benfitted from this experience. These are examples of rewards that aren't what grief is about at all. We so desperately try to search for meaning in grief, and now that I've squeezed as much meaning out as I can within these limits of time, I find that it is so empty. And the only meaning that can shine through this grief experience is just Jesus. There is no answer from him but I love you. There is no answer. I don't want an answer and I never did. But I don't want to spend time with him because then my deepest darkest fear stands right before me and I have to look at it: I miss my dad, and he isn't coming home, and there is nothing I can do about it, and to its core there is nothing good about that. No further meaning. Nothing. God in his grace can make beauty out of terrible experience, but as much meaning as we try so hard to see, there is none but God.

God did not answer Job. He only promises us his presence in grief and I fear that. It is too powerful for me. I want to stick with my organization and studying to make my own meaning. I cannot face the Lord with my deepest heartwrenching ache. When I come to this realization, I learn that I have not made much of a dent in my heartache. I have only masked it with my passion for learning and the human mind. I have only masked my ache with the thought of helping someone in the future, or the thought of using this expereince to make me stronger. I have done great with that. But actually grieving, I might have put in a few hours.

I think God probably should be in charge of our story changing lives in the future. It is after all His story. I think God probably should be in charge of my strength and my well being.

I fear really letting him in because I fear the deep pain that losing my dad has caused, and I just don't want to feel it. I don't really need meaning as much as I think I did. It was just a coping mechanism. But I realized today for the first time that all my coping mechanisms have run their course and I felt so very empty. So I hope I will start to choose ACUTALLY Jesus, rather than trying to improve His kingdom on my own.

It just simply sucks. And God has been waiting patiently for me to see that all along. It's not about the meaning at all. He's not looking for that. He's just looking at my heart. He knows absolutely nothing will satisfy my desire for meaning. There is nothing He could say to make me content with my dad being gone. Nothing.

And He has never tried to give me an answer, for the first time I am starting to see that as really kind.

The dead can live on

I hope my dad has been looking at God's face for the past year and a half. I hope he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of our Lord. How could you? I hope he isn't "looking down on us". I don't want him to see our pain. I don't want him to see our world. He is finally at peace, and I hope he is captivated by Jesus. 

Our euphemisms are stupid. I love that God is honest. 

I don't really know exactly what the Bible means when it talks about what happens immediately when we die. Maybe you understand, but I haven't really comprehended that yet. Maybe my dad is at rest until we all join, or maybe he has already experienced judgement. Maybe he's standing outside the gates of heaven. I don't know. I don't really pretend to know either. To me it isn't comforting to know that maybe he "visited me" in a dream last night. I just want to know what's true. 

I do know that his memories are true. I am so thankful for them right now. With memories, your reltionship with someone who has died lives on. I can still think of my dad when the funny SNL skit comes on. My immediate reaction is to tell him, and I really really wish I could. I can still think of what he would say and laugh about it. It's the missing him, that emptiness, that really feels so rich. The pain and loss has turned into a deep hunger. It's not a bad thing. 

I miss him. I wish he could be at my wedding. Not just to perform the fatherly duties, but just as my friend. My loved one who I want to share the day with. I love him and I hate that he can't be there. But, I want to celebrate his memories. Because no matter where is soul is right now, his memories connect me to him. I can create more memories with him, I love that. I already have so many ideas about how I can bring him to my wedding. His laughter, his humor, his love for my family. I don't think our wedding will be void of tears and laughter and richness. I look forward to that. I wish my dad were still physically a part of my life, but I wouldn't change my newfound depth and richness in life for anything. 

God has gifted me with living. Really living. And I credit my dads life and death for that.