I’m not sure how to write a post today. I seriously considered skipping it this week, because honestly, I’m not in a great place. In the last couple of days, I seem to have hit the anger stage of the grief process, and I must admit it’s nasty. (Thankfully, the anger is entirely directed at the One who can handle it all.)
For example, one of my friends’ current favorite advice to repeat is “Hand it all over to God, and be open for what He will give you back.” She means well, but when she started to say that last night, I told her if I, at this moment, give God back the things I feel He promised, they will not be handed back – they will be thrown in His face along with the heartfelt sentiment: “Forget this, and forget You, and don’t bother trying to give me anything in the future! I’m done.”
Well-meaning people keep telling me God will give me the desires of my heart and He is a good Father who loves to give His children good gifts. The truth is, at the moment, it feels like God keeps handing me beautiful packages which, when opened, are either empty or on loan only long enough to get attached before they are ripped out of my hands again.
My head knows that analogy is false and doesn’t in any way describe our Heavenly Father. I know He has good things in store. I know He keeps His promises. I know He is trustworthy, good, faithful, and every other wonderful attribute I could list. I know all the right things to say and believe, but I’m struggling to believe them in the face of the reality I find myself living at the moment.
Alfred Lord Tennyson famously wrote, “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” In the light of my current feelings of loss as I begin to pack up this life I have loved, part of me thinks Tennyson was an idiot. And yet, I don’t regret choosing to love Ireland and the people I’ve met here. I completely lost my heart on this island, believing God had told me certain things about my future here. Even as I bury the dreams that have died, the largest part of me thinks Tennyson knew what he was talking about when he penned those words.
Meet Hastings and Frostie. When teaching young people about the paradoxes and conflicting emotions that we so often face in life, this “pair-a-ducks” is my illustration. They are currently sitting in front of me to remind me that it’s okay to feel the tension of paradox. I could nearly suffer whiplash from the conflicting thoughts battling in my head, but through it all, it is well.
Despite the pain and confusion and loss (and yes, anger) I feel at the moment, I am grateful for the things I know about God and love and more. My life has changed forever because of my time in Ireland and the people I’ve had the privilege to know and love. I have grown and experienced God in ways I never would have without choosing to love and put down roots here as deeply as I have. I like to believe that other lives have also changed for the better. Current feelings of loss don’t diminish the changes and growth, though they may overshadow them for a time. It truly is better to love others, even if loss follows, because it is in loving that we become more like Him.
