In the Midst of Grief, Keep Your Eye on the Giver
The sense of loss had hung over me like a cloud for months.
It started on a beautiful October Saturday morning at my nephew’s football game. That’s quite an unlikely place to start feeling a sense of despair, I know, but grief is weird like that. I stood on the sideline of my junior high football field with my dad and Papa, all of us shielding our eyes from the mid-morning sun. One of my high school crushes coached his son on the opposite sideline, and my best friend and I were texting one another about plans for that night.
As the game wrapped up and I hugged my Papa and nephew good-bye, I looked at my dad and said, “You know, this is what I thought my life would be. I always thought it would look just like this day.” But I was just visiting for a long weekend.
I grew up in a small town in the Idaho panhandle that’s nestled in the Lewis-Clark Valley at the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake rivers. Not much changes from year to year. The town has the same tiny mall it’s had for thirty years, and the Kmart is still open. It doesn’t even have an Olive Garden, to the dismay of just about everyone. My hometown stays the same, and the transition from child to adult looks similar from generation to generation. So much is steady and normal—and I had never been more envious.
At the ripe age of twenty years (and six weeks!), I married a boy I barely knew. Two days later, we packed my belongings into a U-Haul truck and moved to North Carolina to live the army life. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t just saying good-bye to my family; I was also saying good-bye to a few of my dreams.
It hit me on that field. The loss. What was supposed to be.
I have three children of my own, but they live so far away that not one of their grandparents has ever attended an important event in their lives. They don’t know what it’s like to squeeze your entire extended family into a house to celebrate Thanksgiving or assemble a gaggle of cousins to act out the Christmas story. Their dad’s schedule is too unpredictable to coach their teams. I had hoped all of those things for them. And for me.
Grief Leads to Groaning
When I did not confess my sins, I was worn out from crying all day long. (Psalm 32:3 GNT)
I didn’t realize what was wrong at first, so I got angry and quiet. My heart started talking to God about how ticked off I was. I was angry at war and the army and sometimes even my own choice to pack the U-Haul in the first place. My kids deserve to live in that cute little valley and play football on the junior high field, I thought. They deserve grandparents in the stands. I deserve to be near the people I love.
That last sentence is where God spoke right to my heart. When I start to focus on what I deserve instead of being grateful for what I have, I lose sight of the gifts God has given me. And when I lose sight of the gifts, I lose sight of the Giver.
I lost sight of the Giver in a big way, and I’m just beginning to feel his presence again. For weeks I refused to open the Word more than my weekly Bible study required. I didn’t want to pray, because I couldn’t stand in front of God and tell him what I deserved. I knew better than that, but I couldn’t see past my own broken heart. I allowed my pride to build a wall around my soul and did my best to keep God out of it—until I couldn’t.
Confession Leads to Healing
Then I confessed my sins to you; I did not conceal my wrongdoings. I decided to confess them to you, and you forgave all my sins. (Psalm 32:5 GNT)
A few weeks ago, I had to share my deepest prayer request to someone I barely knew as part of an exercise for Bible study facilitators. A short version of this confession revealed that I was facing an issue of pride and selfishness. I had let my grief and disappointment control my behavior in a way that wasn’t just harming myself; it was harming my entire family.
If I didn’t believe it before, I can truly tell you now that confessing something with your mouth will free you. As soon as I spoke the words and my new friend prayed over me, the weight I had been carrying for months was lifted. It was revealed to me that my grief had turned into bitterness, and it was robbing me of the opportunity to seek joy.
I won’t lie and tell you life has been easy since that confession. Some days the grief sweeps back in. The army is sending us to South Korea, which means fewer visits with family and dashed hopes of living closer to home. I’m still finding reasons to miss my sweet little valley, but I’m convinced that God has something for us that we could never dream up on our own, something no fixed set of expectations can match. And, if not, he’s good anyway.
Are you grieving today? Or maybe suffering from disappointment? Our expectations can be such an easy weapon for Satan to wield. He convinces us to justify our desires to create enmity between us and God as well as between us and our people. He lets us break our own hearts.
If you’re hurting today and grieving what should have been, please cling to God. He doesn’t mind if you yell or ugly cry into your pillow. Just don’t ignore him because you’re ashamed of how you feel. Don’t make the mistake I did. Keep your eye on the Giver, and you’ll see his gifts instead of what you think you’re missing.
is a full-time Army wife and mom, and an occasional teacher of first graders. She is an unapologetic follower of Jesus and the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. Becky holds a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education from UNC, and dreams of writing a book. She blogs at beckyyurisich.com.
Photograph © Caique Silva, used with permission
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