I sat staring at some tile-work the other day. One tile did not line up with the grout lines. I thought how annoyed my son would have been with that job. He was such a perfectionist when it came to tile-setting...or anything for that matter. I smiled... My thoughts flipped to our last conversation, the night before he died and suddenly a wellspring of pain gripped my gut and coursed through my entire being. I sat crying and wondering why. It's been nearly 11 years. Shouldn't I be able to think of him without such heartache?
No. Because grief is a thief.
It robs you just as surely as the uncaring men and women who broke into my home last August and ripped the wall-mounted television off my living room wall. Thieves intrude where they are unwelcome. Where they have no right to be. And grief is no different.
Though you may be happy and filled with joy at the birthday celebration of a grandchild, or the gift-giving around the Christmas tree, or the bounty enjoyed with family at the Thanksgiving table, grief has a way of robbing you of some of the goodness, the sweetness, the preciousness of every moment.
In these times we must learn to let go of the pain, let it pour forth tears or even in expressions written in poem, song or articles. Then we must turn to the the Comforter and let Him do His job to heal another space within our hearts that cannot be touched by human hands or surgical skill.
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