Death Without A Body

You'll have to pardon me because a great deal of my time is currently spent around dentistry. They say that the worst day after an extraction is about the third. You may wake up feeling great the day after...it's almost as if the source of the pain is so deep that it takes time to surface.

Today is day five. I cried on days one and two, was okay on three and the early part of four. Five is not so good. It's my first day back at work. I had to tell my boss the news that I wouldn't be around very much longer. I'm not dying, but it feels as if there's been a death. In many ways, working through this feels like the grieving process.

At first, there was shock. That was immediate.

Then there was relief. Almost as if the person had been suffering and we knew that now they were in a better place. It has been a long year here, especially the last four months. There have been points when we actually wondered together how much longer we could last. We had decided to press onward, with what seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel in only six months. But then it was as if God said, "it's okay. You don't have to do it anymore. This has been taken from you." A burden had been lifted and there was hope for something new and beautiful.

I guess the next was denial. It just didn't seem real or possible. Or maybe it had happened, but it would be undone. Certainly something would be worked out so we could stay.

Then, in the midst of this cloud is the realization that you are tired - tired of dealing with the grief and ready for the funeral to be over with so you can get on with your life. I think the human spirit is not capable of grieving for an eternity. We were made to go on and to heal, but that process isn't allowed until there's some closure. The problem with this particular death is that the funeral isn't scheduled until we are pulling out of town with a truck filled with everything we own. We just have to keep reliving it over and over as we anticipate the end. And we don't know what the end will be or when it will come.

There's a lot of fear. Getting groceries tonight almost gave me a panic attack. It was like dodging bullets as you turned every aisle, prepared to duck just in time. We consistently run into people at the store, especially the pastor and his family. That's almost comical fear. The source of my real fear is that we won't find a job in time, that we won't be able to pay our bills...that my parents will have to come and rescue us with Suz and Darrel's diesel truck and giant cattle trailer. I guess that's not the end of the world. God does have a sense of humor.

This one goes with the one before. I'm scared about doing this again. I told Mike yesterday that I wasn't sure I could pick up and go into another church right now. It's like we've just finished losing a battle and they've come onto the field and told us to pick ourselves up because there's another fight that we have go join right away - before we can even heal from the wounds we just sustained. This is not a good feeling because this is what Mike was made to do. Ministry is what we're going to be doing the rest of our lives. And I'm only 27. Suddenly that seems young.

Sorrow is ready to surface with the wrong look. When my mom and dad used to drop me off at college, it was really difficult the first couple years. I used to tell people not to be nice to me or else I'd cry. I've already warned people at work and they have promised to be mean in these next few days. :) But friends from church have been so kind to us. They've called and written and eaten and prayed with us the last five days. Friends at work have held me and cried with me. I was never a Methodist at heart. I was never a Southerner, always a Yankee. But we are having to leave friendships that have been deep and other relationships that were just starting to grow. Despite it being relatively new to us, this town has become familiar. The first year somewhere, you're sort of feeling your way around. After you've passed the 12 month mark, you sort of know what you're doing.

Today, on day five, there's a lot of anger. I can almost honestly say that I hate the senior pastor. I hate him for doing this to us. I hate him for ruining Christmas. I was so upset that I was having to pack Christmas decorations on December 5th, instead of January 5th. I'm mad that he can smile to someone's face and not care any deeper than a fake hello how someone is doing. I'm angry that people try to justify him and his sorry excuses for sermons. I hate that he is making me leave a job and people that I love.

And on that note, welcome to the family gathering. Yes, we've all come into town to support each other at this time. I know that this is real. I'm relieved that it's over. I know the reality won't change. I know God will handle every detail of what our lives will be over the next several months - I know that He will be there to provide on every level - that we will see miracles as He sustains us. I know that He has gathered all of these tears and placed them in a bottle - that He knows every hurt and hurts with me - that He is the only one who brings joy even in the midst of sorrow. And finally, I know that I can't stay angry - that I have to forgive, but that He wouldn't want me to forgive when it's not yet been seeded deeply in my heart.

Be my rock of refuge, to which I can always go.
For you have been my hope, O Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth.
Be not far from me, O God.
My mouth will tell of your righteousness, of your salvation all day long, though I know not it's measure.
~excerpts from Psalm 71

My comfort as I grieve this death without a body.