Thursday, July 14, 2011

when loss flavors everything…

{This week Lisa-Jo spent a little more than 5 minutes on loss and I heartily accepted her invitation to do the same…}


There was a time when it didn’t seem as though I could bear disappointment.  At least that’s what my teachers in elementary school thought when they gave me the lowest score in this category.

Had they thrown down a gauntlet that this whole winding life I have sought to fight?

I do not know if the determination to overcome came as a result of the seasons of loss that came early and painfully into my life, or if the crashing disappointment challenged every last will to live and therefore I had to find a way to survive.  Either way I heard myself described as ‘resilient’ this week and it brought a great courage to my soul.

Yet, I have never overcome that crashing disappointment in the face of loss.

The tears for me have often come at inappropriate times or times when they are seen as manipulative.  I don’t know why.  This complex mix called ‘me’ who wears that heart on her sleeve still struggles with the pain that is deepest, leaving it to furrow through normal moments where disappointment is small and yet that deep full river of inner grief is tapped and overflows.

When we lost the farm I cried on the field hockey field.  When my mother was chronically ill and home was a rather dark place I cried at the ‘B’ I received.  When my heart was broken by someone I loved, I cried at a movie I watched.  When my mother died I cried over the meal I burnt or the beef that went bad. 

And a deep sense of loss flavors all of my inner world in these days.  I grapple with a profound sense of a losing that seems it will markedly touch each step of this journey.  The losses string together in the span of my thirty seven years and I cannot look at anything but for the reality of losing it.

It is a necessary melancholy of sorts.  An embrace of all that makes this world not my Home.  It stirs a restless soul searching for a place of safety and security when each object of focus becomes a place of keen loss.

I know the answers.

I know that He is the fullness that touches from a changeless eternity and binds up in promises of all things new.  Forever.  I know that rest happens no where else.

But there is a place.  A profound place.   Where soul identifies with loss and grief and they have irreversibly defined me.  And as my awareness is deep of this inner place, I rest somehow in what cannot be achieved if the losses were not there.  If all remained and was fulfilled and there were no dying, then, when or how would I ever long for another world.  How would I find the strength to live altogether His if loss were written out of the story?

Loss is Gain.  Losing is Finding.  And there is a Great Company and a Great King and High Priest who allows that to be the defining element of His story.  Into Him I press with the frailty of these days and the surety of future loss. 

And as into Him I press I find a strange and other worldly depth, and peace, that lack of loss would not have achieved. Perhaps that is how He defines resilience?



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