Tears, Sorrow, Deep Grief

Let there be tears for what you have done. Let there be sorrow and deep grief. Let there be sadness instead of laughter and gloom instead of joy.
James 4:9

I’m feeling these things today.

My husband comments to me, I try to get you to take care of yourself, and tears flow. Not freely. I pull them back, but they are there.

Why is that hard for me to hear from him?

Why does that statement feel so loaded and full of meaning?

Why these tears and this bigness inside?

My self-care IQ is low. I don’t easily know what I need or how to ask for or get it, so often I push through unnecessary pain or hardship just because.

This week it is mouth sores.

I get them under times of significant stress. I remember a specific season of life where sickness or pain was not an option for me. It wasn’t okay to remove myself from life for a day or two to rest and recover and heal.

There were responsibilities. I was needed. People depended on me. There was time to redeem.

And that’s back when it was only me. That was before this.

Before life piled up like all of those shoes shoved into the closet.
(Curious? To Be Told, Dan Allender, p. 3 Neither your life nor mine is a series of random scenes that pile up like shoes in a closet. We don’t have to clear out old stories to make room for new ones.)

Before marriage and family and overwhelming responsibility.

Before babies began coming, and coming, and coming, and kids began growing, and growing, and growing, bringing with them such needs.

When I’m feeling backed into a corner with sticks poking at me is when I need to take a deep breath. I do know that much.

I push through a lot.

I birthed eight babies without medication. Some in my home. Some not.

I pushed through.

And it wasn’t for a greater good or a higher ideal or to make a statement, though I suppose I could put that spin it and certainly feel validated by it all. It wasn’t because I loved birth.

It is because it needed to be done.

I’m not amazing, super-woman, strong, indestructible, capable.

I am vulnerable, weak, hurting, broken.

I am facing this day through tears, sorrow, deep grief as the weight of my hurting bears down and the mess of my house bears down and all is quiet until episodes are over, and it is through tears that I am asking God to help come close and to help me discover what I need.

5 thoughts on “Tears, Sorrow, Deep Grief

  1. Pingback: Friendship Friday ~ Endings and Beginnings | Composting the Heart

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.