Moving through the Fog - Mourn, Baby, Mourn (Part Deux)

Moving through the Fog - Mourn, Baby, Mourn (Part Deux)

MY AFRICAN AMERICAN girlfriends . . . now they know how to experience the pain; so I took a lesson from them.

We all grieve in our own way and in our own time, but after I moved on from my mask phase, I found that for me, falling prostrate, forehead-to-the-floor, tears flowing like the Colorado River after a big rain, worked best. Now, if you think this will work for you, I recommend you do this when you’re alone—it may be disturbing to others.

I can say that I’m old enough and have lived enough to have fallen to the floor sobbing a few times. Each time, it was a vital step in healing my hurt. In that excruciating moment of pain I realized two very, very important truths: first, that I was very much alive and second, that I would survive. And although I was furious with God for not rescuing me from my disappointment, I knew he would carry me through to a new day.

I have called you by name; you are mine.When you go through deep waters,I will be with you.When you go through rivers of difficulty,you will not drown.When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.For I am the LORD, your God,the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:1-3)

But there is one other thing I learned about mourning my losses that came as a total surprise: even though I might have grieved something “correctly,” the pain would sometimes return when I least expected it. It hit me like a tornado in the middle of the supermarket. One minute, I was acting totally normal while strolling along the chip aisle; the next, I was sobbing while staring at rows of Campbell soup. Those of you who have grieved the loss of something or someone very precious probably have experienced this too. Fortunately, this public outpouring didn’t happen often, and I was never “escorted” from the grocery store!

To move through the fog, you have to allow yourself the space and place to mourn. It’s a vital step in moving forward . . . even at 2 to 3 mph.