My Journey with the Grief Ninja

 

My Journey with the Grief NinjaTo grieve is to be human. If you ever feel the joy of loving deeply you will also eventually experience the pain of grief and loss. It’s a price we pay to know and to be known, to love and be loved.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Wounds of grief can serve to soften or harden our hearts. A hardened heart may feel like it is bringing reprieve from pain, but it does not allow healing to come to the deep wounds of our souls. Not only do we block ourselves from experiencing pain, but we block our hearts from the ability to give and receive love. Our hearts become brittle, and we are not a lot of fun to be with because we exude bitterness to those around us.

However, it has been my experience that it is not enough just to acknowledge our pain and sorrow. In order to heal fully it is essential to give Jesus access to our pain. How does one do that? What does it look like? For me, it looks like recalling what it was like to live with the loved one who has gone on, being fully present in the memories. Then I invite Jesus to sit with me in the memory and ask him what he wants to do with it, and where he was in the most painful part of the memory. I’m not going to gloss it over; it is a very painful exercise. It has also been my experience that as I sit in my memories with Jesus, he does something supernatural with it all; he gently applies a healing balm to my heart. As he brings healing, my wounds become scars that can be a vehicle by which I take others to our Healer.

One of the reasons Jesus is so good at healing our grief wounds is that he too has suffered. He gets it.

“He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.” (Isaiah 53:3, NLT)

Grieving takes time and a lot of effort. It is exhausting. It can be a very lonely road because no one can walk it for us. A friend may walk alongside us, but we alone can process our own grief. I’m getting better at giving myself permission to make time to grieve, to just hang out alone at home if I need to, or invite myself to a friend’s house, or make a phone call to someone who also understands grief. In our hurry-up world it is not common to take time. We are expected to push through and keep going. And maybe we put that expectation on ourselves more so than any of our friends do.

Many years ago, a person was expected to wear black for at least a year as they mourned the loss of a loved one. They were cut a lot of slack and not expected to be involved in community service but rather to receive the service of others. I wish that tradition was still practiced today. The mourner would not have to explain themselves. The community would treat them with respect and tenderness. Now, with no outward sign that anything is amiss – that our hearts are in tiny, shattered pieces – people forget, and the pressure is on us to also ‘forget’. Healing takes time. No one gets to tell the mourner how much time is needed to heal. Some people take a long time, and some take a relatively short time. It’s not a competition.

Grief is unpredictable. It can be months or even years after the loss and without warning, we find ourselves in a heap of tears, in the grocery store, sitting in a movie theatre, driving the car…that’s why I call it “The Grief Ninja”. It jumps out of nowhere when you least expect it. There’s no preparing for that, except to know that it will happen so that when it does you don’t think you’ve lost your mind.

A few years ago, my family and I went through a series of traumatic losses. It was so severe that I was totally taken out at the knees. I had no choice but to withdraw from everything. I learned much during my sojourn with grief. I read a lot of books, took seminars on grief management, and just took time to care for my soul. So, when my mom passed away almost seven months ago, I sort of knew the drill. I knew it was not going to be a quick journey. It hasn’t made the pain any less, but I have a better idea as to what to expect. But even though I have become acquainted with the Grief Ninja, he is still stealthy and totally unpredictable. And sometimes when you know that someone is going to jump out at you anytime, its almost worse because you are bracing yourself.

And so here I am once again, walking along with the Grief Ninja stalking me.

Just the other day I was visiting with someone who is battling cancer. Her situation reminds me very much of my mom’s cancer journey. So, I shared bits and pieces of what we had learned in hopes that my friend would gain some comfort from my words. It talks about doing this in the Bible.

“He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.” (2 Corinthians 1:4, The Message) [emphasis mine]

It gave me an odd sense of comfort, to be able to comfort someone else with my pain journey. It wasn’t until the next day that the stupid ninja jumped out from behind a door. Oh.my.goodness! I was not prepared for that. I was fine while I was sharing my story but not so much the next day. Yet, I would do it again. I don’t want my pain wasted. I don’t want to horde it and coddle it, feeling sorry for myself. If somehow God can use my journey of pain to help someone else on their journey - well, then that’s a good day; that’s a ‘good return for my money’.

My mom is enjoying the sweet presence of Jesus right now. She is no longer suffering. Her body is completely restored, better than it ever was while she walked on this earth. I’m not sad for her. I’m sad for me. I can no longer call her and ask her the questions to things I forgot to ask while she was still on this side of heaven. I can’t share with her the joys and sorrows of my day or to ask for that recipe.

Grief is messy and unpredictable, and the Grief Ninja does not play fair. I am so very grateful that I do not have to walk this valley of the shadow of death on my own. God promised to never leave me. Jesus is acquainted with grief. Holy Spirit is in me. I can do this because he gives me strength for each day. And besides, grief is not a bad thing to be feared. Grief is a treasured gift because it testifies to the fact that I loved fiercely. The Grief Ninja is an intermittent reminder that I am alive, I am human, my heart is malleable and vulnerable, able to give and receive love. I welcome this journey with the Grief Ninja.

The Man with the Sword - Mikhail Odintsov