Time Does Not Heal

Time has drifted by in a haze, and suddenly I realize no new words have graced this page since June.  Emotions, thoughts, and even words without form have been stirring in my heart the past months, but putting these emotions, thoughts, and words onto paper (or, in this case, screen) has been an uphill battle which I have been too weary to face.

Welcome to grief.

Funnily enough, the past few months during which words have eluded me have been the months where I have tried to get by day to day as though that season is over and a new season has begun without the shadow of loss hanging over my head though grief has remained my close companion waiting to be noticed.  Denial is not our friend.  And time does not heal wounds.  Facing those wounds and pulling back the poorly wrapped superficial bandages to get down to the root of that deep wound and apply the only salve that can heal is the only way for there to be any true restoration.  It took the rude awakening of seeing the deterioration of my own heart over the months of running from healing to realize that I was indeed in need of some serious doctoring from the Great Physician Himself deep down in the inward places hidden from the outside world, a place known only to myself and the One who created me.

This rude awakening has brought me back to the journey of intensive grief work yet again.  And yes, grief is work.  I used to think grief looked more like lying in a puddle of your own tears and then dusting yourself off after a sobbing fit and getting back on with “normal” life, with time slowly forming a nice little scab and then a scar, probably not aesthetically pleasing but altogether functioning.  I was to drift along while time worked its magic to mend a broken heart.

Grief takes courage.  And after losing her Mama, even a grown woman can find herself feeling like a little girl again, greatly lacking the courage she once thought she had in abundance.  I am at the end of myself daily, and grief has shown me how incredibly little control I have over this life.  This is terrifying.  And yet upon hearing this, I melt to the ground with a sigh of relief.

My own strength is weakness when walking through the valley of the shadow of death, and if I were to walk that path in my own strength, I would be destroyed in the process.  I am relieved because I walked that path and continue to walk this journey carried along on the strength of One far stronger than I, One who reigns Sovereign over the circumstances I have so little control over.

What I’ve come to learn is that I do have control over one thing, and that is my choice in how I respond to life’s circumstances.  I can choose to be destroyed in the fire or I can choose to cling to Him who promised to be steadfast in the midst of it.  I can choose to flee from pain or I can choose to face it and embrace healing though it does require pain.

Each day requires courage which I do not have, but thankfully, He does.

Thanks for being gracious to me on this journey.  I only hope I can extend the same grace to you as you walk your own.

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One thought on “Time Does Not Heal

  1. Dear Sarah, Thank you for sharing your journey. We continue to pray for you and your family for God’s healing and comfort. I especially appreciated your comments about fear and trust. In a totally different context, I have had to walk and learn the same lesson. For me the love of God and his goodness have become more than comforting — really they are the only place to stand. Thanks again. Un abrazo desde Indiana para ti y tu familia.

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