Patient Grief
In May, the Man accidentally scraped a chair over my toenail, leaving a blackish purple bruise that slowly crept closer and closer to the tip of my toe for weeks. Just a week earlier, Oswald had bitten a hole straight through the thumb nail of my right hand while trying to avoid getting his vaccinations updated. That thumb nail turned funny colors and parts of it flaked off as the hole ever so slowly moved upward. Just two weeks ago, I finally got to the point where both nails look normal again. All signs of damage have grown out. My thumb and toe no longer look completely disgusting. It took almost five months.
Five months for the outward signs of what was fairly minimal damage to disappear.
I am writing this to remind myself to have grace for myself during times of healing--and I guess also to remind you too. If something like a smashed toenail can take five months to repair itself, how long will it take to heal emotional damage done to something much more delicate and much more necessary to life, like a heart?
When we undergo emotional trauma, whether on a large scale or a small, we expect ourselves to get over it quickly. We try, even, to rush ourselves through the stages of grief. Quickly! Denial! Anger! Bargaining! Depression! Acceptance! And done! Or we think that we can grieve on a timeline. A year has gone by since we lost a loved one and we expect our hearts to be over it. Six weeks have gone by since we moved and we should be feeling settled again. We've had another child after the loss of a pregnancy, and we expect ourselves to be completely happy without any lingering sense of loss. But if you had asked me how long it would take for my toenail to get better (my toenail!), I would have said two months. Tops. It took five months. For a freaking toenail. (Don't ask me what I thought about my fingernail--I was pretty sure the whole nail was going to fall off and I was going to be having lots of super awkward hand shakes while meeting new people after our move.)
If you are in a season of grief, no matter how insignificant a grief it seems in this moment, please: be patient with yourself. And remember that there is One who is near to the broken hearted, who binds up our wounds (no matter how trivial they may seem to others), one who has offered to be the strength of our hearts and our portion forever (not just for a socially acceptable period of grieving). He saves those who are crushed in spirit, without rushing us to get over it, without demanding that we get it together, without pushing us to Be Happy (so help me). He asks only that we look up and see him, the one who took our pain and bore our suffering, who was pierced for our sins and crushed for our wickedness...and he offers us himself. He offers us peace. Peace that does not pretend away the grief but that takes the grief and understands that from this too He can bring good. He can bring healing, but only in his timing. And he kept the scars on his hands and feet for eternity.
May we be patient with ourselves. And may we look up.
Five months for the outward signs of what was fairly minimal damage to disappear.
I am writing this to remind myself to have grace for myself during times of healing--and I guess also to remind you too. If something like a smashed toenail can take five months to repair itself, how long will it take to heal emotional damage done to something much more delicate and much more necessary to life, like a heart?
When we undergo emotional trauma, whether on a large scale or a small, we expect ourselves to get over it quickly. We try, even, to rush ourselves through the stages of grief. Quickly! Denial! Anger! Bargaining! Depression! Acceptance! And done! Or we think that we can grieve on a timeline. A year has gone by since we lost a loved one and we expect our hearts to be over it. Six weeks have gone by since we moved and we should be feeling settled again. We've had another child after the loss of a pregnancy, and we expect ourselves to be completely happy without any lingering sense of loss. But if you had asked me how long it would take for my toenail to get better (my toenail!), I would have said two months. Tops. It took five months. For a freaking toenail. (Don't ask me what I thought about my fingernail--I was pretty sure the whole nail was going to fall off and I was going to be having lots of super awkward hand shakes while meeting new people after our move.)
If you are in a season of grief, no matter how insignificant a grief it seems in this moment, please: be patient with yourself. And remember that there is One who is near to the broken hearted, who binds up our wounds (no matter how trivial they may seem to others), one who has offered to be the strength of our hearts and our portion forever (not just for a socially acceptable period of grieving). He saves those who are crushed in spirit, without rushing us to get over it, without demanding that we get it together, without pushing us to Be Happy (so help me). He asks only that we look up and see him, the one who took our pain and bore our suffering, who was pierced for our sins and crushed for our wickedness...and he offers us himself. He offers us peace. Peace that does not pretend away the grief but that takes the grief and understands that from this too He can bring good. He can bring healing, but only in his timing. And he kept the scars on his hands and feet for eternity.
May we be patient with ourselves. And may we look up.
