Loss

 “The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear Him. For He knows how weak we are; He remembers we are only dust.” Ps 103:13-14

 

  The opening line for today’s post came to me in the small hours of the morning. It was beautiful and said everything. I should have gotten up and started writing because now, with the sun well above the horizon and a few more hours of sleep behind me, I don’t remember what it was.

  It has blown away like dust.

  The image of the abandoned and falling down house was the best way for me to encapsulate the idea of loss.

  It was a home, once upon a time, which held a young couple’s dreams. This humble fairy tale castle kept a child safe from dragons. The kitchen was where Gramma baked her delicious cookies, the ones someone always asked her to share the recipe for. It held a puppy, too, at one point or was it a kitten? It was a place where booboos were made better and birthday’s celebrated. The walls witnessed its share of life, like when Gramma had to go live in a place where others did the baking.

  But now, the home is only a house. The windows where a welcoming light once pierced the night are broken. Shards of glass feebly glint under the light of stars. The flower gardens have long disappeared including the special one where the puppy was lovingly laid to rest. The essence of home has blown away like dust.

 

  Maybe this is the hardest loss of all, realizing everything we perceive as safe, as home, is really only a passing illusion, an artificial construct fed by culture, the media, and lies. Or maybe this is only me in this place of grief.

  The young couple got divorced, the child wasn’t safe from dragons, Gramma never baked…

  Why do I grieve the loss of things I never had?

  Why do I find myself feeling a deep sense of loss for other people who never had a home that was a haven, a safe place where the roof barely contained the love within?

  Why do I find myself feeling the loss because so many pastors, priests and people of God turned God’s home into a house with broken stained glass windows?

  Why do I mourn the loss of illusion? I should be celebrating that truth is finally coming into the light; that the blanket of dust has blown away.

  Maybe I am not there yet. Maybe there’s been far too much truth coming my way over that last few months and I am not sure what to make of it all. I am not sure what to do with the sorrow the truth causes.

  It is better than the pain secrets cause.

  It hurts to realize I, too, fell far short of fulfilling the hopes and dreams encompassed in the ideas of home, family, Mom, daughter, and friend. My failures taste like dust. It hurts to realize I have caused others tremendous harm because my compliant nature made it impossible to do otherwise.  

  The Lord is washing the dust from my eyes with tears as I face the consequences, the losses caused by brokenness in myself and in others. I have no idea how to forgive them, me or even where to start.

 

  “I need Thee, oh, I need Thee. Every hour I need Thee. Bless me now, my Saviour, I come to Thee.”  Annie Sherwood Hawks