HOLES

HOLES

“God? You think God can make this better? Pfff, I don’t think he’s even out there!” I was cowering into my hunter green Letterman’s jacket. It was a chilly night for North Florida, but I couldn’t feel anything. Well, I take that back, I felt something. I felt like someone had shot holes through my heart. My body felt limp but my temper was raging. I scowled up at the dark sky, thinking about the stars. The only light I was able to receive was through them, and it reminded me of how dark I felt. How gray and lonely it was, even when people were around me.  As I did, I met the eyes of my teary-eyed friend. My grief was speaking for me and I had hurt her feelings. I quickly looked away. All there was anymore was pain, everywhere I looked, in everything I heard, said, and felt. How could anything ever be the same again?

At fourteen, the end of my driveway seemed an easier place to dwell in that moment than inside the same walls where it had happened. Safer than my home, where my 8-year-old sister Anna had died in my parents arms just weeks before. Grief had burnt down any peace and security I had once found there, dragged my parents and brother and their laughter away, and I found myself suffocating in the ashes of what was left every time I stepped inside.

My friend continued just standing there with her mouth open as I said, “Listen, I know you are trying to make this better for me, but, you can’t. Just don’t talk to me about God. I don’t believe in him anymore. I’ve heard my whole life that he loves me. I know that no one that loves a person would put them through something like this. No one would take someone as innocent as Anna away. I just want to be alone.” She put her hand on my shoulder, nodded, and walked up the driveway. I had to stand up and fight off feelings or my raw cheeks would feel the burning sensation of salty tears again. In defiance I looked up and said, “I don’t believe you are up there, and if you are, I hate you.” As I spoke my heavy breath made curls in the crisp air, and I stomped back up to the house prepared to sink into the ashes again.

Months melted together and time passed. Every day seemed to be the same. I would wake up forgetting to be heavy with grief, and then wake up a second time moments later realizing Anna was gone and the heaviness would saturate me again. Every day I ventured out, felt nothing, and returned to the only place I found any peace – in what sleep I was able to get. The very weight of it withheld me from rising out of the fog. School – nothing. Church and seminary – nothing. Basketball practice – nothing. Movies with friends – nothing. Work at the antique shop – nothing. Roller blading at break neck speed down dangerous hills– nothing. Babysitting – nothing. Dancing with a cute boy – nothing. Singing along to music – nothing.  Laying on the floor of her old room -nothing.

I put on a good show for the world around me through that time. Pretending to be o.k. was easier. Easier than everyone asking me all the time how I was doing. Easier than hearing how my sister was better off in heaven not suffering anymore without me. Easier than being preached to about my eternal family, the very one that seemed to be falling apart presently. Easier than people sheepishly hugging me when they didn’t know what to say. Easier than people saying they were praying for me as they passed me in the hall. Easier than people pretending like nothing had happened, hoping that I could do the same.

A year went by, and everything continued to be hard. Our family was alone in Florida, far from other family, and we had a yearly tradition of going camping for Thanksgiving with family friends. Every year as long as I could remember we had packed up a precooked turkey breast and pumpkin pie, camping gear, and hit the road. Last year we hadn’t done much of anything because it fell a month after Anna’s passing. But this year we were returning to tradition. More family friends were joining us too. There were going to be more teenagers there. I looked forward to more teenagers and more opportunities to leave my parents and wander. One night while camping we convinced the parents that they should let all of the older kids go on a night hike. It was a clear bright night and the moonlight lit up our path.  

I was enjoying listening to the clatter of gravel under my feet, the freedom of not being with adults, the sound of everyone’s laughter, and the damp chill in the air. I forgot to feel sad for a moment which was becoming easier with time. It was exhilarating until my friend said, “How are you doing?”

I responded sheepishly, “With what?”

“Well, with Anna and everything,” he responded.

 I felt the joy of the fleeting moment sucked away as I squeaked out, “Fine.”

He looked over at me as my eyes got heavy with unwanted tears. “Well, if you aren’t fine, you should pray about it.”

The unchaperoned group suddenly got excited, and yelling ensued about playing hide and seek in the dark. Whoever was found last, would win the game. In my mind I thought, “Perfect, now I have an excuse to end this conversation and run away and hide.“ Just as quickly as it was announced and unanimously approved, someone began barking off numbers into a nearby tree. We scattered into the woods to find good hiding spots. I ran headlong North away from everyone, but soon I found my inquisitive friend following me. I quickly jumped off the path and sunk into the pine straw covered ground behind some palmettos.

I glared in his direction and whispered, “Why did you follow me?” 

“I want to pray with you,” he exclaimed.

“I don’t do that anymore. There is no point.” I could see him trying not to frown at me.

“You should ask for a sign that he is, and that Anna is up there too.” ……… “I bet you will get one”………”Just try it with me,” he said.

“I don’t want to.” I responded, the tide of emotions began to rise and heave into my chest. “It’s easier not to.”

“Just try it.” He said.

“FINE! I’ll do it. But not out loud, and not with you.” I said convincingly.

He looked in my direction until I had closed my eyes and bowed my head. Silently I wrestled with myself. Why was I even thinking about doing this? There would be no sign, and then I would know God wasn’t there. If he wasn’t there, then there was no heaven. If there was no heaven, then Anna was just gone. That meant she wasn’t anywhere out there waiting for me. I didn’t want to know if she was gone forever, so what was I doing?” My logic stopped me in my tracks. More wrestling ensued, and my mind raced. What could it hurt? If I prayed and got nothing, I hadn’t lost anything more than I already had. If I prayed and got something, then I know for sure that they are out there. Coming to this conclusion I issued a rushed and strangled prayer in my mind. “Listen, I don’t know if you are even up there Heavenly Father….. My heart is still shattered….and this is dumb, but if you are, and Anna is too, show me.” I opened my eyes and sat frozen, yearning for something. Anything that would show me I was wrong. I didn’t dare look around. It was too scary, the idea that no sign would come. I knew she had to be out there somewhere.

An owl above me who-whooed, and my friend and I both looked up to see where it was. There was Spanish Moss dancing in an evening breeze, and up the road I heard laughter as another friend was yanked from their hiding spot. We looked at each other, and he placed his finger on his lips signaling to be quiet with a sparkle in his eye. I shook an agreeing nod and tucked my knees under my arms and looked up. The sky was full of stars, but I realized gazing at them that they didn’t make me feel lonely anymore. Then out of nowhere a brilliant blaze of light shot across the sky. A shooting star bigger than any I had ever seen before. “Holy Crap! Did you see that?”, I shrieked out loud. I had forgotten I was supposed to be quiet and my friend looked at me like I had three heads. I stood up. “No seriously, did you see that shooting star?” He yanked me back to the ground and aggressively whispered, “Sit down. No. I did not see any shooting star. Be quiet, we could win this thing. ”  I couldn’t help myself. I threw my head back gazing and then straight into my knees. “That was Anna. She’s up there. I totally just got my sign,” I said. I was shaking in the dark as I felt something that didn’t weigh me down for the first time in an entire year.  If filled me up with warmth and spilled out of my eyes in the form of tears. I had exercised the faith of a mustard seed. Stopped my anger and resentment for just a moment and this is what had happened. He had showed up. Casting his light through the stars, emptying his spirit into the holes of my heart.  

I won’t say that my journey back to him was easy. That our relationship was instantly fixed, or that there weren’t times when I yelled into the night about how unfair it all was. That I didn't hate going through that kind of pain. I got angry when there were no signs, no dreams, no more answers for me. But slowly, slowly, I let the light into my life again. Over the last 19 years as I have lost more cherished people in my life, I have realized that grief is not a lack of faith. It is not a punishment from God. Grief is a journey that reminds us of what we have lost. It begins the day that our lives become changed forever, the day we say goodbye for now to the people we thought would be with us longer. When the siblings, friends, family, spouses, parents, children, and unborn children we believed we would outlive - are gone unexpectedly, or after a long battle. It is a lonely and personal road because no one but you had that relationship with the person young or old that was lost.

Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount lasted for days. For days he talked about the most important things in his ministry here on earth as it spun to a close. Days of speaking and what does he begin with? 10 promised blessings to kick off days of teaching, and you know what they applied too? Grief, loss, and imperfection. Matthew 5:3-4 says the following: Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.  What does that tell me? It tells me that he knows how hard grief is to go through. He knows that we need to know, that he will come through for us as we face this enormous trial in our lives. He said it first because we will all experience it at some point.  

I promise you he will come through. Maybe not in the immediate manner that we prefer, or when we think we need him most. He may not come when we feel like we might break in two from all the crying, or when our whole body aches from sorrow. We may feel empty when the world feels flat and there is no light. But if we humble ourselves and allow him in, eventually…..he will comfort us. He will not fix it, take it all away, or make us forget, but he will comfort us.  

I will say that as I let myself feel the light of the Lord’s love instead of shutting him out, my burdens became easier to bear. My sense of loss is still with me, my heart will never be the same again after having been touched by wonderful family members and friends and losing them, but I have been able to slowly replace my anger with gratitude. I have taken bitterness and switched it up with thankfulness that I had them in my life at all. I have traded resentment with opportunities to remember wonderful memories I shared with those lost. I have stomped out confusion and frustration with a trust in his plan for my life. I have cried the same tears, looked for the same signs, and come up empty. I have also cried the same tears, looked for the same signs and found his love surrounding me in the shape of strangers, friends, and family that have shown me kindness. I have felt his presence in talks at church that pierced my heart. He has come in the shape of an unexpected phone call when I have felt lonely. I have seen him in the stars, and in the handwritten words. I have let his love surround me while my husband has comforted me in his arms. I have found him in the wise counsel of therapists. Over time, I have learned to look for him. It is a process, harder some days than others. In time though, we learn. We learn to see and feel more clearly. So, be patient with yourself on this journey. He is there. He can fill the holes in our heart with his presence and love. Won’t you keep looking for him and let him in?