Good Friday.

 “Don’t let your happiness depend on something you can lose.”

– CS Lewis

 

 

The heart of grieving is mourning loss. Loss of a person, place, memories, things, something that once held dear and precious to one’s heart. 

 

Since the start of this process of grieving loss, I am beginning to learn, that sometimes, there are no easy answers, only a stoic acceptance of the journey of tears, holding onto the hope that acceptance and thereafter joy will come. 

 

We will lose our house, this place we first called home as newlyweds and the living room wall which made our love story viral. We will lose our conveniences, familiar sights and sounds. We will lose our jobs, careers in a way, financial security. We will lose what we are certain of, what we have drawn our identities from, what we know to be secure and comfortable and stable. 

 

It was one night a few months ago that Cliff comforted me, with his unceasing positivity and optimism, as he saw how overwhelmed I had been by the transitions we had had to manage. “It’s the silliest thing,” I said in between tears I was trying to wipe away, when he asked what had made me sad, “that I’m crying about giving all my clothes and books away. I like these clothes and books, they give me identity, I picked them for a reason, and now I’ll have to say goodbye.” 

 

Goodbyes are hard to say to people. And can be hard to say to things too, depending on the value we ascribe to them. 

 

“But,” Cliff chirped without missing a beat, “You’ll get to Africa and have new ones, different ones!“

 

It was a simple, humble reply, but held such truth that I laughed out loud heartily, in between tears, at his guileless honesty and positivity. 

 

As we grieve and mourn loss, isn’t it important to realize that as we give away and lose a part of ourselves, the pain and hunger of that newly created emptiness also invites that which is new and fresh from God? 

 

But we are human. And we like what is familiar and certain, even if it is old to the point of mouldiness and filth. I have been like a toddler growing out of his stuffed animal which has been salivated, puked and poo-ed on but refusing to let it go, not realizing that Dad could easily and would readily bless me with a cleaner, newer companion. 

 

As I finally closed a chapter to my work and Cliff said farewell to his colleagues on his 34th birthday yesterday, I found myself at an empty place, having said goodbye to what I had allowed to define me. 

 

As we return home each day to look at boxes, we are also heartened to realize that there are some things which we simply won’t need anymore. 

 

Giving away is painful, but the emptiness heralds a season of receiving new things, if only we would let go. 

 

Without His death, there could have been no resurrection; without death’s sting, there could have been no sweet triumphant victory; without letting go of this world and it’s earthly longings and groanings, we cannot expect to ascend and be where He is. 

 

So perhaps, it is this hope that will see us through and grow us through this season of grieving. And only then, will we become stronger, more mature, and more able to graciously receive the new gifts that God has in store for us. 

 

Blessed Good Friday.

 

 

“We need to learn to let go, even if it means a little dying.

Letting go of the wrong and unhelpful alone will free us for new possibilities,

for it creates an emptiness that

can be filled with better things.”

 

– Henri Nouwen