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When It’s Divine to Mourn

by | Nov 13, 2016 | 26 comments

mourn_ecclesiastes

 

{Originally posted October 2, 2014}

If you ran into me in town lately and I told you I was fine, I was sort of lying. Please don’t take it personally; I was lying to myself too. I see now that I’ve been in a bit of a funk. As usual, I didn’t recognize it until it was half-way into the rearview mirror.

Something happens every fall. Grief sneaks up on me silently like bare feet on a soft forest path. I pride myself on my Annoying Perkiness (seriously, I’ve been told that I have AP), so I turn the music up, raise my chin a little higher, and say I’m doing fine. Until it’s clear I’m deceiving myself.

This time of year, I identify with words like taciturn and melancholy. I lose track of time scrolling through old photos, text my adult children more often, and take longer naps. I’m not depressed. I’m just a bit mournful. That’s okay, right?

Gratefully, I’ve never dealt with clinical depression. Just this old, familiar ennui that slips its arms around me from time to time. Especially at this time of year. I’ve learned not to fight it. Those arms are not going to crush me. It’s more than okay to give in, to mourn things lost, to wait for the cleansing tears.

It’s like a deep longing for something beyond my grasp.

If I allow myself to put a face to it, I see Dad smiling at me with squinty, mischievous eyes, cigarette-stained teeth, and gray cheek-stubble. I see my petite mom wearing her mint-green smock, looking up at me in that familiar way. The way that says “You are so indescribably special to me.” I wish so hard I could reach out and touch her warm shoulder, pull her into an embrace.

I see my kids when they were young. Sean has colored up his face with my berry lipstick. Marissa’s picking out a song by ear on the piano.

It’s clear to me now that grieving a loss is never a once-and-for-all process. It’s a slow shedding of leaves you had hoped to wear forever. Every time the breeze carries a few more away, you feel a little more uncovered. More vulnerable. We say we’re learning to let go, but do we really have a choice? You can do this the hard way, or you can do this the easy way.

Each day, more speckled  leaves coat our lawn and driveway. They’re lovely, reminding me that death and loss and change can be hauntingly beautiful. And the rotating seasons affirm that it’s not an end. Just another new beginning.

Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes that there are divinely appointed times for mourning. I’m okay with my divine funk. Laughter will follow soon enough.

Hallelujah!

Mourn_Clear Lake

26 Comments

  1. Robin Gunn

    This is beautiful, Kit. Grieving truly is not a once-for-all process. 🥰

    Reply
    • Kit

      Thank you, Robin. And, darn it, we keep getting more practice every year!

      Reply
  2. Carrie Vandervort

    There are these times in our lives, yes. We walk through them and each time, hopefully gain a new bit of strength because the other option is just too terrifying to contemplate. Let me just say – I am 1000% grateful for sisters in Christ, especially as beautifully spirited as you. We all share the same path, so we really don’t have to go it alone.

    Reply
    • Kit

      What a lovely thought, Carrie. Seems that one sweet way God walks through the valleys and shadows with us is by sending a sister who understands. 🙂

      Reply
  3. Lauren Sparks

    Hallelujah indeed! Visiting you from the be thee inspired link up today. laurensparks.net

    Reply
    • Kit

      Hi, Lauren! Thanks for popping by 🙂

      Reply
  4. Michele Morin

    Hi, Kit! Ironically, I had a wave of that sort of ennui hit me yesterday. I blame it on lack of sleep, a busy schedule, a few hours alone in an empty house. God knows the chemistry of our souls better than we do, and He is faithful –even on late summer days when the world seems a little sad.

    Reply
    • Kit

      Hi, Michele! “Chemistry of our souls” … what a great way to put it. Tiredness alone makes the world seem bleak!

      Reply
  5. rebekah

    Hello Kit,
    I am at the other end with my children all young…#5 at 5wks old. But i know this time will come. Right now i pray i can be the mom they need. I remember when we lived next door in that yellow townhouse to you. Your youngest was 5 at the time. Some days i’m buried in the parenting, homeschooling, and breaking up fights. I would welcome even half a day to myself! Thank you for posting these thoughts. Say hi to garth for us!

    Reply
    • Kit

      Hi Rebekah! #5, wow! Congratulations to you and Tim. You are certainly in the thick of it. Probably just feels like surviving much of the time. Sometimes the precious and the hard things are one and the same. Praying for your sweet family, especially grace for the moment. And then the next, ha! Much love.

      Reply
  6. Julie Klinsky

    My friend Kathy just asked me why she is missing her mom so much lately …. NOW I have something to tell her. Thanks Kit!

    Reply
    • Kit

      Hi Julie!
      I’ve come to believe that we each have our own emotional rhythms. We haven’t done anything wrong, and it’s not a faith crisis. As always, our heavenly Father saw it coming and desires to walk through it with us. Big love to Kathy <3

      Reply
    • Kit

      Thanks so much for stopping by, Ngobesing. Bless you today!

      Reply
  7. Brett

    “I’m okay with my divine funk. Laughter will follow soon enough.” – Great line! And I agree. And I, for some reason, think the fact that you’re names are Kit and Garth is awesome. They’re just cool names that go well together. I know that’s completely off topic.

    Beautiful thoughts in your piece here. I get nostalgic a bit around now and am trying hard to allow that nostalgia to drive me to small bits of relational action, around my parents, my kids, and my spouse.

    thank you for writing!

    Reply
    • Kit

      Appreciate your comments, Brett! Garth thanks you too. 🙂

      Reply
  8. Tahlia Meredith

    Beautiful words Kit, thank you for sharing them with us x

    Reply
    • Kit

      Thank you, Tahlia!

      Reply
  9. BETH BRANCH

    Kit, it’s my first time to your blog. The pictures are so inviting and I could tell I had a connection with you at once. We have the same Father, you see. I also have heard the same thing about grief, not only that it will creep up on you, but that there is often a pattern to it. My mother died this past February, my father and I by her side. The flashbacks have lessened. But I anticipate this regular pattern of grieving. I admit the thought that I’ll be the one person that will grieve and “do it all wrong” has crossed my mind. Not sure where that comes from. Hmmm, maybe a blog post is brewing! LOL! Anyway, I really like your blog and the beauty it displays, from the beauty of His creation to the beauty of His Word. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Kit

      Thanks for the encouragement, Beth! I appreciate that you focus on grief on your blog. My mom died five years ago in December, but a couple months prior to that (in the fall) we had to move her into a care home. I’m sure that series of events is the deepest emotional trigger for my seasonal funk. But the Lord is a great comforter, and this longing I carry is one way she stays present with me. It’s a glorious discomfort 🙂

      Reply
  10. Denise

    Oh my gosh! I can relate to this feeling completely! Thank you for helping me realize it’s ok to feel this way… Your words are so eloquently written. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words.

    Reply
    • Kit

      Thanks, Denise! I guess we all feel this way sometimes, and it’s probably healthy to acknowledge that we will feel this way again. XXOO

      Reply
  11. Toots Lindblad

    Oh my…….too beautiful for words.

    Reply
    • Carol Bracy

      I get it…and it helps me to identify some of my own feelings. Thanks, very nice.

      Reply
      • Kit

        Hi Carol, glad to hear from you. Hugs!

        Reply
    • Kit

      Thank you, Toots. XXOO

      Reply

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