thank you

i could never have imagined that by simply stepping back into the sunlight with my voice trembling and heart open that i would receive the outpouring of love and grace that i have been given.  thank you. for that healing love.

the difficult thing with a marriage failing is that no one knows what to do, or what to say, and so a place that already feels painful and suffocating and surreal and lonely can become even more desolate as you watch well meaning church friends or work friends and fringe people in your life begin to back away.  grief makes people squirm, and most people shy away from the opportunity to hurt.

i remember when i was a young teenager and my family started going to a new church. there was a mother there whose two year old son had recently drowned.  while she felt loved by her friends, family and church, she had a conversation with my mom a few months into our time there. her words have haunted me as i've begun my own grief journey.  she said 'people don't know what to do with me.  they have stopped coming around, or talking about him. they pull their children close, almost as if they think it is contagious'.  i have felt that ache.  watching as many discover that my 'beautiful, strong marriage' failed from many hidden sins i never knew existed.  they began to look at their own husbands or wives with a measure of fear, worry, and slightly-raised suspicion. they began to rationalize that 'if it could happen to them... it could happen to me'...... logically- i get that.  when a child dies, or a seemingly strong marriage collapses... our brains race and flip and stretch and scan, trying to make sense of it all. we desperately want to make sense of it all, and when no sense can be found (as it never can be in the presence of early death or betrayal) a part of us wants to run. to protect the safe space we've created in our hearts, homes, souls, and minds that doesn't allow for that kind of event.  being in the presence of a real person who is walking that road can be painful as we get to see first hand the devastation of grief written on their faces, and the faces of their children.  it's hard to look into the depth of that pain in others.
but when that happens.  when people leave.  a beautiful thing happens too.  those sweet few.  those precious souls who love your soul for exactly what it is, where it is, whenever it is... they stay. they weep.  the don't sling worthless, painful words against your spouse as you navigate the tearing apart of hearts and lives.  they listen. they give copious amounts of grace and love.  not expecting much in return- which is a relief because grief is consuming, and self indulgent, and inwardly focused.  but there they are.  aching, and fearing and crying and grieving right along with you.  and they get the amazing experience of watching you begin to learn you again. begin to see miracles happen even in the face of overwhelming odds.  the reality is, that where hope is, miracles can be found in the darkness... and for me, some of the most amazing things have happened through this last year.  indescribable.  grace in a way that makes me weep with the weight of my unworthiness. and yet. there they are.  those precious souls. and there he is, precious God. and somehow, in the dark, and ooze, and ugly, i am just beginning to get a glimpse that there really can be beauty out of ashes.