Into the Fire

Sometimes it takes longer than we'd like or want or think it might – or should – to get over something which hurts so badly. There's no required or prescribed time for grief to make its mark and move on. Some handle it better than others.

When my mom died at a young 62 years of age, I didn't allow myself to grieve immediately because my dad was so devastated. His sorrow became a rallying point to be strong in the Lord and help my dad move through the pain as best he could. It was about a year later when I let down and allowed the sadness of her absence, of losing her, to permeate my life. I knew Mom was with Jesus so the grief was deep but lessened.

When my dad died at 89 years of age, I knew he was set free from the life that had ended in a debilitating stroke. He too went to be with Jesus and it had become time for him to go. His life was a strong and vibrant one with many accomplishments by the man with less than a high school education. He lived the American Dream and loved his country, people, and the two ladies who'd blessed and loved him back.

We've lost beloved pets more than once. It's not a new experience. The pain is searing. I know it will pass, but . . . it's still there.

Thank you, Lord of all, for the beautiful gift of loving your creation, for tender hearts, for loss that teaches us that this is not our home. Help me to embrace what I need to learn, to know, and to keep becoming the one you want me to be. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.