Healing and curing are not the same thing.
Healing is a process that takes as long as it takes and may never be complete this side of eternity. It’s a folding in of the hard parts of my story, an acknowledgement of the way I am changed because of the wounds I’ve received. It involves scar tissue and sore spots and ongoing pain.
To be cured is to be free of the effects of disease or injury.
And there is no cure for child loss.
I will never be free of the effects of burying a child this side of Heaven.
I did not understand the difference until it was my heart bearing an incurable wound.
The thing about healing, as opposed to curing, is that it is relational. It takes time. It is inefficient, like a meandering river. Rarely does healing follow a straight or well-lit path. Rarely does it conform to our expectations or resolve in a timely manner. Walking with someone through grief or through the process of reconciliation requires patience, presence, and a willingness to wander, to take the scenic route.
~Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday
It really IS all about relationship.
Relationship first with the Living God through His Son, Jesus.
The ongoing life-giving ministry of His Spirit calls courage to me as I travel this Valley and sings hope to my heart when I cannot hear anything else.
He will not leave me in my distress.
He does not abandon me in my darkest hour.
But it is also about relationship with others.
Relationship with those willing to meander with me along this unlit and winding path. They are the ones who give me courage to carry on. They are the ones who lift me up when I am unable to lift myself and who lie down with me when even their best pep talk is not enough to get me off the floor.
They have listened to me tell and retell my story.
The first time I told it, I didn’t have a clue what to say or how to say it-what to leave in, what to leave out. How do you condense a life-sized earthquake to a novel, much less a few sentences?
But I find as I practice telling my story, it is healing.
Sometimes it’s as if I speak without my mind being engaged and listening, I have an “aha” moment-suddenly recognizing a new insight and another place that needs work or has received healing.
I’ve learned that there is no substitute for companionship on this journey.
My healing depends on the faithful Presence of my Shepherd
the faithful presence of friends who refuse to leave even when it seems we are lost in the wilderness of grief together,