From Timothy Putnam’s The Sea of Grief and the Ship of Belief:

The grief doesn’t ever work itself out; it just hibernates for a while. And it only takes one misstep, of your own or from someone who doesn’t understand, some transgression from a friend of family member, to plunge you back into the depths of that sorrow.

Funny thing, as time goes by, people are much less understanding when you blow up in anger or crumple in despair. To them…they simply don’t get why you’re so attached to the memory of the one you’ve lost.

Tonight, I had to explain to my children why their dad was shouting words-that-they’ve-never-heard-in-their-short-little-lives during nap time. They are too young to understand that this kind of grief has no patience for people who don’t understand it, or worse, who blame us for experiencing it.

So tonight I talked to my kids about water. They brought me a small cup with 2 inches, and I asked them to think about something that made them sad. “That sad is like this cup.” Then I asked them to imagine the saddest thing that ever happened to them. “That sad is like the pool in the back yard.” Lastly, I asked them to remember the time we all went to the beach. “This grief is like the ocean.” The cup of water sad behaves differently than the pool sad. And the lake sad acts differently than the ocean of grief. The ocean is constantly pushing and pulling you, it causes you to drift if you don’t keep your eyes on the map, it will pull you under or push you down. The ocean never stops. Sure, some days it will be smooth sailing, but other days the perfect storm will come up and threaten to overtake you.

But then he reminds us where belief comes in:

I believe, and have become convinced of the sufficiency, the mercy, and the provision of God. I believe that while he won’t remove me from the suffering, he will protect me in the midst of it. I am lost in the ocean of grief. I see no land, no solid place, no security, but I am carried in the Ark of God’s provision. I will not sink, and I will not be overcome. The words of Lamentations 3 have become my declaration:

My life is deprived of peace,
I have forgotten what happiness is;

My enduring hope, I said, has perished before the LORD.
The thought of my wretched homelessness is wormwood and poison;
Remembering it over and over, my soul is downcast.
But this I will call to mind; therefore I will hope:

The LORD’s acts of mercy are not exhausted,
his compassion is not spent;
They are renewed each morning—
great is your faithfulness!

The LORD is my portion, I tell myself,
therefore I will hope in him.
The LORD is good to those who trust in him,
to the one that seeks him;
It is good to hope in silence
for the LORD’s deliverance

You drew near on the day I called you;
you said, “Do not fear!”
You pleaded my case, Lord,
you redeemed my life.
You see, LORD, how I am wronged;
do me justice!

(image: Sea View by Moonlight, by Ivan Aivazovsky)