I share a lot of sad and heavy stuff here but I want to share of happy (even if still heavy) times too.
I have mentioned before that church is one of the hardest places for me to be. It’s also the place I’ve wanted to go most during all hours and all emotions through out this past, nearly, year and a half. It’s a place where I’m sad and cry and get angry. A place where I am loved and not alone or asked to hide my grief or, often, what feels like shame. A place I grow closer to Jesus and closer to understanding my purpose that is to come from Huxley not living life on earth with us and a place where I wrestle with my faith. I’ve had bad days at church, days of pure rage during a church service, I’ve had not totally sad days at church, and even some good ish days there. But I don’t think I’d say I’ve had a fully happy day since before Huxley at church. I’ve laughed and had fun but to say that I wasn’t sad or that I had clarity or was just simply joyful would be a lie. Which I miss by the way. It’s one part of ME I mourn. And a part of Billy too.
That is, until recently. We went to church as usual. We were late and the band was already playing as we got to our seats. As usual for what my hard days look like, we make it until the second to last song and I say to myself, “if we don’t wrap up worship with THIS song right now I’m going to lose it. I’m going to cry today”. I can usually tell the song before if a wave of extreme grief or uncontrollable tears are coming on. This day wasn’t any different except that it was at our new church. We recently moved as most of you know and we have settled into a church here that honestly feels like home already but we’re still new and know maybe 4 peoples names. Needless to say, crying was going to feel real awkward here.
As the Lord would have it there was one more song to go. The band started in on the song and immediately the words started to hurt and the tears started to burn. As I cried I felt the nudge to lean into it and really find out what God wanted me to see from this wave of emotions and what it was meant to show me. Knowing that He wastes nothing, I wanted to listen.
I felt a change in the way I was viewing the lyrics of the song. The song said something like “I will praise you in my darkest valleys” and “From the gravest valleys come the pastures of grace” and I thought I feel like I’m doing that! It feels like I’m doing the right thing and still getting it wrong where’s the grace! And while I am grateful and maybe even a little proud for where we are because families break under the pressure of grief regularly- I can’t tell you how many warnings we’ve been given over the last year and a half because of the statistics, I couldn’t help but also be honored and humbled to praise Him in the darkest valleys and my gaze shifted a little to see the grace part. I’m not doing it wrong. He is with me and He is strong and gracious. Scripture tells us He is close to the broken-hearted. Scripture tells us blessed are those who mourn. Scripture is clear. And I stood there bawling. For the first time it wasn’t for us not having Huxley here. Though I would do just about anything to have him here with us. And believe me, I don’t want anymore heartache but I could honestly say God you are good and and gracious and I am blessed and more so I am blessed in my suffering. I’m humbled to be broken hearted and praising Him. To be allowed the honor to shout His name in our brokenness. To be a tool of His and to bring Him glory. I’m honored in my suffering and that’s where the grace is. I’m not saying I feel honored to have lost Hux but honored that God would use my hurt and make something beautiful. To have been comforted by Him and used for His glory. Billy asked how I was and if I needed to leave and I just said with elation “these aren’t sad tears, I’ll explain in the car”! When I turned around to greet and say hello because of course it was time to meet the people around us when I would have a tear streaked face-the sweet lady behind me had tissues in hand and ready for me. You would think that after a year and a half I would be smart enough to bring my own tissues… I am not. But He knows that and there is always someone near that has those little purse tissues waiting and I’m so thankful she stood there behind me ready.
I know this feeling won’t last forever. Feelings never do. I don’t expect it to. It’s moments like this that remind me to etch His words into my heart and into my whole being because hard, big and heavy waves will come again and it will be then that I stand firm on His word.
I share this moment of light with you because as you have let me share so many moments of grief and sorrow, it means so much that you would read and encourage and learn more about our God and about our little family. Also, I write this as a reminder to myself for when I inevitably do have dark days with longer stretches of “storm” that He makes beauty from ashes and He will not waste my tears, my sorrow, or our story. He will be there time and time again. He always is. Always will be.
Even Morse Sweetly 