Finding God to be Enough in Times of Grief

Grief is difficult to describe. I have heard it likened to drowning, and the adjective “overwhelming” has been among the most common I have heard used to describe the emotional turmoil of loss. But how can one adequately describe such a powerful feeling? 

I attended a memorial service for a beloved uncle last week, and I must admit, I couldn’t think of a better way of describing grief than the definition the pastor used: that grief is a hole in one’s heart that is carried with us for the rest of our lives. 

I cried at my uncle’s service, as I have cried over the loss of other relatives: not because of any sadness for them, (they are enjoying the glories of heaven!) but because a part of my heart is empty. 

I have found that grief is not the all-consuming pit of despair I had expected it to be when viewing it through the eyes of childhood. It is more like a flash flood. It comes powerfully, in waves. 

When my Gramma died (my first “real” experience with grief), I cried a great deal in the first few days, but even during that first intense period of grief, the waves would come and go. It was not a steady stream of sorrow; and even now there are times when I see a picture of her, or hear someone say something she often said, or smell the scent of the hairspray she used, and all at once I feel that emptiness acutely and the flood of grief washes over me anew. 

For me, these floods are usually caused by or at least strengthened or prolonged by “nevermore” thoughts. For example, the day my uncle was put on hospice, Mommy asked me to bake a small apple pie for my uncle. I was happy to do so, but as I prepared to bake, I found myself overwhelmed with grief as the same idea raced again and again through my mind:

His last pie. 

 The last pie I will ever make him.

The last pie he will ever get to eat.

As it turned out, he actually never got to eat the pie I made; he went to heaven the next morning before the pie could be delivered.  But I think God intended the making of the pie to benefit me more than my uncle anyway. It made me come to terms with the reality of the coming loss before it was upon me.

When my Gramma died, the “nevermore” thought that was on auto repeat through my head as I drove home from the hospital (and many times after that) was that she never got to see me in a wedding dress. Oh, how she would have loved to! She delighted to see her grandkids all dressed up, and I used to stop by to see her whenever there was an occasion to dress up for. Several times in the first year after she went to heaven, I had the thought as I got ready for some special occasion, “I should stop by to see Gramma afterwards” and was struck with the thought that I never could do that again.

But despite these oh-so-poignant “nevermores”, I have found that God is enough, even in grief. In every area of loss, whether it be loss of our dearest people or dreams or health or plans of how our lives “should” be, God’s character never changes, and Romans 8:28 still applies.

In my few sorrows, I have learned that dealing with grief and loss is just like dealing with any other area of aching emptiness: the answer is surrender.

Now, before you tune me out for being unfeeling, know that I do acknowledge that grief is real, raw, and powerful. To say that the answer is surrender in no way diminishes the reality of grief. But God is as His Word says, “a very present help in trouble”. In fact, Psalm 46, the first verse of which contains that wonderful truth of God’s presence and support in trouble, goes on to describe earthquakes and mountains melting into the ocean and angry waves shaking even the mountains. Yet, the very next thought is “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.” (v.4) There is comfort to be found, yes and even gladness in the midst of such turmoil. The way to such peace and joy is found in verse 10: “Be still, and know that I am God”

The problem with my “nevermore” thoughts is that they presume to pass judgement on how things “should have been”, instead of accepting how God has allowed them to be.

It has well been said that “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”[i] But God is the Master of our reality. In times of grief, when the billows of sorrow and floods of “nevermores” overwhelm us, the choice to trust in God’s character and wisdom is crucial.

Think of Job. He suffered loss most of us will never come near to experiencing, but even in those first moments of grief and agony, he responded in a way God describes as being without sin.

Here is Job’s response: 

“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21)

These words have been quoted and held up as an example to suffering people ever since Job’s story was first told, but I want you to notice God’s view of them. The very next verse clearly states why it was that Job’s response was right:

“In all this, Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.” (Job 1:22)

Here’s where it hits me the hardest: Those “nevermores” I so readily wallow in are nothing more than thinly veiled complaints about what God has allowed. In other words, I am foolishly charging God with incompetence or negligence at best, and malice at worse. After all it is God’s “good and perfect” will we are arguing with. (Romans 12:2)

Godly grief acknowledges sorrow and the feelings of loss, but chooses gratitude over complaint, humble trust over bitterness, and hope over despair.

God has designed us to feel those empty places. But the reason He wants us to notice them is so that He can fill them. When my heart feels hollow, I must choose to cry out to God, for Scripture promises: “draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you.” (James 4:8) When I yield my sorrow and hurt to Him, I never cease to find that He is enough.

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[i] John Greenleaf Whittier, “Maud Muller”

Casting out Fear

For many years now, I have struggled with fear. As a child, I was afraid of literally everything. Whether it was spiders, flies (they sounded like bees), the faucet that resembled a face, or the coat rack in the hallway which terrorized me in nightmares throughout my childhood; you name it, I was probably afraid of it. 

As I have grown and matured, my list of things that terrify me has shrunk considerably, but as I stare the possibility of living on my own squarely in the face, there is one fear I simply must conquer. --I absolutely dread being in the house by myself after dark. 

Now, being a grown-up sort of person, it does happen that I am at home by myself after dark periodically, and I have improved some since that first time when my parents were called away to the hospital and I stayed awake in terror all night till they got back. And it’s not as if I have any traumatic experience of bad things happening when I have stayed alone before. –I just have a very active imagination, and I was not discerning as to what I fed it with in my youth. 

So, I will be going along, minding my own business at home alone when suddenly a noise or random thought will trigger a memory of a scenario I have seen or heard of or read about and my mind is instantly planning my response to the  situation, even though it isn’t actually what is happening. Then my heart starts racing right along with my mind and then I suddenly notice every noise the house makes, each one triggering its own avalanche of what-ifs. 

Now, it might be argued that fear is a natural emotion, and that there’s nothing we can do about it. The vast number of commands in the Bible to “fear not” make it clear that God (who designed us) expects us to choose not to fear. For years, I have struggled to understand just how to do that.

Then at Family Camp this year our preacher made a statement that hit me so hard I was left nearly breathless at the simplicity and power of it. He said that the answer to fear is God.

Think about it. When we give in to fear, we are in fact choosing not to trust that God is able and willing to protect us. 

Up to this point, the main thing I have turned to as a way to stave off fear has been the television. I grew up with the television always on, and it is very difficult not to turn on the TV to “drown out” the noises that trigger the what-ifs. Interestingly enough, it doesn’t actually work. In fact, it makes it worse, because I will still think I hear something, but not be sure if I did or not because of the tv, and that triggers a whole new set of what-ifs.

I now realize that I was trusting the TV or other people to provide my sense of security, instead of simply trusting that in my need for security, as well as all else, God is enough.    

Can I say that again?

God is enough.

To be fearful in the face of the reality of His presence with me is to be like a small child, closing his eyes and believing that he cannot be seen. 

This weekend, my new determination to conquer fear was tested. It wasn’t a situation in which I was actually in danger, but I could have been, and the what-ifs began to pop into my mind. With the first what-if, I made a conscious choice not to follow that train of thought, and instead to direct my thoughts to God and the truth of His presence with me. At every step, there was a new tempting thought, and I had to decide again to fight it with truth. It was a hard battle, but it worked, and I got into my car feeling the freedom of having won a victory. 

Now, I have by no means arrived, and I will still have to battle, but I feel now that I know how to fight, and that victory is attainable with God’s help. 

I John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

God doesn’t want us to live in fear. He wants us to let His love for us cast out our fears.

Victorian Elements of Design: The Flavel House

This summer, I have been enjoying the freedom to go on some short trips without worrying about catching up on homework. (Hooray for my first completely homework-free summer!) One of my favorite things to do on a trip is to visit historic houses. On a recent trip to Astoria, Oregon, a friend and I visited the Flavel House, which is a gorgeous Victorian historic house museum. As I stepped into the opulent hall with its massive proportions and towering ceilings meant to make one feel small and insignificant, I looked around in wonder and thought how amazing it would be to live in such a beautiful place. Of course, that could never be, unless I have an unknown rich relative who lives in a mansion… but that’s unlikely.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have been learning more about design recently. As I continued to survey my surroundings, I realized that, although I may never have a Victorian mansion of my own, there are some elements of design I could reproduce on a smaller scale to give the same feel to an ordinary house. I started taking pictures and mentally dissecting what made each space so beautiful. 

There were some things that particularly stood out to me that I thought it might be fun to share with you all just in case you, too, would like to make your home more like a beautiful and luxurious Victorian mansion!

·         Ovals: Everywhere I looked in the Flavel house, there were ovals: Oval mirrors, oval chair backs, oval picture frames, even oval floral motifs on the rugs! Particularly where furniture and frames are concerned, an oval shape is a good start when looking for that Victorian style.

·         Lovely Nooks: It seemed like every room in the Flavel house had a little nook with a small table and a couple chairs off to one side. This made the grand size of the rooms still seem inviting and cozy. In the larger rooms such as the dining room it was a small adjoining room, but in smaller rooms, the little nook was just a little table like the small lamp table pictured below but with a chair nearby.

·         Lace: It is no exaggeration to say that there was lace in every room. There were lace curtains, lace bedspreads, and nearly every piece of furniture had a lace doily on it. All of these lace luxuries can be easily found at a thrift store or made by hand, and can be an easy way of dressing up an ordinary window or piece of furniture and adding a bit of elegance to a space. 

·         Rich, dark wood: This was also an ever-present element of design in the house. From tables to chairs, bookcases to mantles, there were dark shades of wood as far as eye could see. Even the walls were clad in lovely wood panels in many of the rooms.

·         Velvet or Needlepoint: Many of the furnishings were upholstered in velvet, which adds a luxurious texture, especially when a velvet-clad sofa is draped dramatically with a silky velvet throw. But alongside this bit of luxury there were also chairs upholstered in needlepoint. I did notice that the needlepoint chairs tended to be upholstered only on the seat, and sometimes the needlepoint seat was paired with a velvet back. The needlepoint serves to ground the drama of the velvet and give more of a homey feel. 

From what I have observed, Victorian style is all about the details –the smallest detail can make a big difference in the overall look. So, even if you don’t live in a fabulous Victorian mansion built by an enterprising ship captain-turned millionaire, you can still enjoy the beauty and elegance of the Victorian style in your own home.