We strive so hard to fill our days–our feet barely hit the floor and we are rushing to get ready, to get in the car, to go somewhere, do something.
And should there be the rare morning when our schedule doesn’t demand our attention, we sleep it away and then turn on our noise machines to provide a soundtrack for breakfast, lunch and dinner and everything in between.
One statistic notes: “our homes have more television sets than people. And those television sets are turned on for more than a third of the day—eight hours, 14 minutes.” (USA Today)
We are afraid to be alone.
Afraid to listen to my own heartbeat and thoughts and to consider my own questions. So I fill the space with distractions and push away the necessity of facing them.
But grief will not be ignored.
It will not allow me to pull the covers over my mind and hide beneath them. I cannot turn the music or television up loud enough to drown out the rhythm of sorrow keeping time in my head.
I am re-reading “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis.
It comforts me that this man who was an intellectual giant, a creative genius, and a thoughtful and capable apologist for the Gospel, struggled just like me when faced with the sorrow, pain, loss and questions of grief.
And, contrary to what I wish were true there are not answers available for every question.
Quoting Bible verses does not soothe every frayed nerve.
There are not rock-solid assurances that sweep away every doubt.
Being in one’s own company alone with God is challenging.
Without the noise of outside distraction I am forced to face my fears and hidden darkness.
And in the quiet I find that the easy answers leave me empty and unsatisfied. I must listen carefully for the still, small Voice that whispers comfort.
In the end, it is to Jesus Himself that I must cling.