It’s Friday morning. I set a 20 minute timer to write here, just for myself, to share with those who care to read. By the time you see this it will be afternoon. Or days, weeks, months later.
I feel a need to preamble, which I do now. This is important, because it lays ground rules and understanding and expectation, so I do not have to keep clarifying or explaining myself in the future.
Often when working with a client I will say, Let’s just write up (or simply name and pretend to write) the preamble of all of the good things and all the ways you are thankful and all the ways your parents loved you and all of the ways God is good (if they are a person of faith), etc….Now let’s talk about how there are still hard things and there is grief and your parents were human and we don’t always understand God and you were still harmed.
That helps us to jump right in with the basic assumptions that we don’t have to rehash every time something new surfaces.
I do that here with my current situation.
I am grateful. My parents loved me. Real Jesus is present. For reasons I can’t understand, I still have faith.
I am grieving. My parents failed me. False Jesus was presented as judging me.
I am seeing the goodness of God in the land of the living even as death lurks in the shadows. Redemption is near, close, beautiful. The hope of glory makes this present suffering bearable.
It is from this place that I write and remember and process.
I have deep support in the form of loving siblings, extended family, and friends.
We have laid such a deep foundation of healing work together, that in the midst of the ache and the grief we also find laughter and hope. Even in dying there is deep life.
I know it sounds strange, but it’s true.
As I write and share my experience here on the blog, it is from a place of deep grief and heartache, yet not from despair.
Infrastructure has been built and put into place over this past decade of my life specifically to carry me through this season. It is both brutal and beautiful to behold.
This is the preamble for what is to come, however it looks. You don’t have to agree with or understand me. You don’t have to believe the same way I do to listen, lean in, and learn from my story.
I do ask for kindness.
To my story and to yours.