Everyone says things heal with time. Grief? That never fully heals because the waves never stop coming. Like tides, I have learned to expect them. They come in slowly, predictably. Birthdays, holidays, when everyone is together, except we are never all together anymore. Someone is always missing. Other times, the waves of grief are like a tsunami, triggered by something outside my normal sphere: a movie or TV show where a dad is hugging his daughter, someone else’s in-tact family photos; everyone smiling. Happy, intact scenes where everything is whole. I don’t see the tsunami until it’s towering over me about to obliterate my emotions. Both types of waves change my emotional landscape, upsetting the delicate balance of normal I have learned to cultivate.
THE TSUNAMI WAVES
At first it was all tsunami waves, thirty-foot swell after thirty-foot swell. One right on top of the other. I could barely grab a breath before the next one crashed over me and thrashed me in its swirling somersault. I was so swamped that I had no reference points to find my bearing, no solid ground beneath my feet. Like Peter, I cried out in prayer, “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:30). He did but did not like how I wanted Him to. The waves kept crashing. I continued to get sucked under, reaching and grasping for anything solid and familiar. Instead, I felt God’s presence with me in the tumult. He didn’t take it away; he grabbed hold of me amid the storm. He was the solid, the predictable I needed.
QUIET WATERS?
Psalm 23 paints a serene scene of a tranquil stream at the bottom of the valley. My years traversing the Valley of Death’s Shadow have taught me that waves of grief feel NOTHING like that imagery of those quiet waters. Instead, they feel obliteration, not restoration. I also don’t understand how the valley is included in paths of righteousness. It is beyond my understanding. But I choose not to trust my own understanding (Proverbs 3:5) because I know He’s leading the way.
WHERE TO LOOK
I need to keep my gaze on my Shepherd rather than the waves. He protects and defends me from the assault of despair, gently pulling me back to the safety of his presence, comfort, and care. He is with me through it all. He is the peaceful living water I need (John 4:13-14). My rest comes from Him (Psalm 62:1). That’s why it can be peaceful in the tumult and dark shadows of grief.
VALLEYS DON’T LAST FOREVER
We must not confuse evidence of God’s goodness with Him giving us what we want or saving us from heartache. Jesus assured us that we will have tribulation in the world, but He has overcome it (John 16:33). He offers peace that surpasses understanding (John 14:27), even in the most gut-wrenching experiences. Thankfully, valleys don’t last forever. They have a beginning and end, even if that end isn’t until our last breath before Heaven.
HE CARES FOR YOU
If you find yourself shrouded in shadows or deep in a crevasse of suffering, look to your shepherd. He walks through the valleys of life with you. The time will come when every tear will be wiped away, and there will be no more sorrow, crying, or pain. Until then, remember that He doesn’t just care about you; He cares for you. “He will shelter you with his wings; you will find safety under his wings. His faithfulness is like a shield or a protective wall.” (Psalm 91:4)