Grief is a place from which there is no escape, or at least that’s how it feels to me these days. And though we may try multiple ways to numb the pain, it is through the pain we must travel, being kind and gentle to ourself along the way.
Grief is a journey. And for me it feels something akin to a tunnel were sometimes there are overhead lights that seem to light the way, gently calling me to walk in their illumination. Other times the lights only flicker, perhaps spurred on by my traveling feet and my willingness to take a step. Still, at other times, the tunnel feels dark and dreary, as if this season may never pass.
During some moments of the day tears seem to hover just below the surface, while at other times of the day my body violently shakes as the tears spill forth like a broken dam, carrying with them the deep sadness of lost hopes, dreams, and longings.
In this season of loss, grief has become my constant companion, taking up residence without my choosing it to do so. It’s found me. It’s teaching me. It’s making my heart break and ache and long for Christ in ways I have not previously known. Advent will have new meaning this year.
Griefs lessons are making their ways into my footsteps that now somehow feel different.
It’s like I’m embracing a new pair of shoes and a new way of walking and being in the world, and I’m kind of stumbling around trying to find a new pace or ease of step.
This grief is a tunnel through which I must travel, and I know I’m not alone.
Saying a prayer for all of us currently walking through the Tunnel of Grief.
A fellow grief traveler,
Carmen, through teaching, speaking, pastoring, blogging, and podcasting, invests in others so they can lead and live better. She is the founder of LEAD Women Ministries, ordained with the PAOC, an Associate Pastor at Westside Pentecostal Church, holds an MA in Leadership & Management, and she can often be found collaborating with other leaders or organizations on projects where there are outcomes to grow people’s confidence, competence, and character.