grief moves in

(Yarn Bomb Tree photo credit: econesting.com)

It's pretty ironic that my favorite chapter in A Tale of Mending is the chapter on grief. I love the way God gave me the idea for the character and how this part of my story unfolded as I penned words to paper.

Grief was all around me, it was a part of my every day. It hung heavily on me, like rain saturated clothing hangs on a wash line. It affected my responses to life and the dear people in it. It even affected my physical body. Grief hurts more than just your heart and mind.

When I made a cognitive decision to quit ignoring grief, things started to change. I acknowledged the need to embrace it, and let the process dealing with it be the place I could be real. I longed for healing work to begin, but so much of my daily life was consumed with keeping up with appearances. I wasn't intentionally trying to deceive people but a huge part of me was afraid to be too sad about what I was going through in my life. I didn't want to admit that my faith was being challenged. I wasn't turning away from God but I was confused, hurt, and feeling fears I had never known. It did not mean I could not trust God, it meant that trusting Him was taking every fiber of my being. I was trying to reconcile my own hopes and dreams of having biological children, with God's plan for my life.

When I began the process of writing this chapter I decided to delve into absurdity. How would you feel if someone as all encompassing as Grief moved into your house unbeknownst to you? What if when you discovered Grief, she was a little old woman knitting a blanket? What if she was just sitting there in the guest room clicking away on those sharp pointing needles of hers, intertwining colors from your heart and life? What if you discovered the blanket she was knitting was a reflection of all of the emotions you had been through? Varied hues of happiness, melancholy and deep depression woven together in intricate, purposeful, beautiful stitches. What if this discovery brought you comfort instead of surprise and disbelief? What if this beautifully horrid entity could become your friend?

Grief can become your comfort and your friend, because it did for me. She wrapped me up in my blanket and gave me sweet reprieve from dealing with the pain of each miscarriage on my own. I learned how to be good to myself. I applied grace to myself that reflected the grace God was lavishing on me. I was beginning to see that a broken body that couldn't bring a baby to term could be beautiful anyway, it could be loved immensely and deeply, and it could be intentionally designed to be used another way. Pivotal change was on the horizon for me.