waiting

 Grief is a strange thing. And being one who, until now, had never experienced grief or loss, a wholly foreign thing. It is something that one may be able to study and know of intellectually. You know, the stages and process of, the causes and exhibitions of, these are all topics easily found in popular literature, media, university studies, etc. I'd seen people grieve. I'd read about the psychological phenomenon of grief. These things made sense. What doesn't make sense is this hole that seems to persist in haunting my heart and brain like phantom. It is like a phantom. I think it's gone and then suddenly, wham! out of nowhere it hits like a car running a red light at an intersection you've just entered.

And the phantom just sits there, like a hole in the heart and in the brain. I see the joy in things, but don't much feel it. I know there are things that need to be done, but what they are I can't seem to remember. Things like appointments, errands, dates. They've all fallen into the phantom hole. I don't even actively think about the loss, it's always on my mind, like at the center of the hole, but never in my thoughts. Except when that metaphorical car hits. After that it just aches, sitting there at the center of the hole. Waiting.

And that is what I do. I wait. I have this image of a baby in utero, snug up, waiting. That's me, the baby, snug and waiting, enveloped in the love of God and in his perfect timing. And I'm waiting. I don't feel the need to rush. I don't want the phantom hole, I don't want the ache, but I don't want the loss to every leave. So I wait.

Psalm 139

Lord, you have probed me, you know me:

You know when I sit and stand;
you understand my thoughts from afar.

You sift through my travels and my rest;
with all my ways you are familiar.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
Lord, you know it all.

Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is to wonderful for me,
far too lofty for me to reach.

Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence where can I flee?

If I ascend to the heavens, you are there;
if I lie down in Sheol, there you are.

If I take the wings of dawn and dwell beyond the sea,

Even there your hand guides me,
your right hand holds me fast.
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