As I sit down to write this, I feel as though this, and every other thing that I am attempting to do, is akin to trying to live my daily life walking through water. Every movement seems harder and slower. Every decision seems harder and slower. Mundane tasks that would have required little to no mental effort before seems like a mountain to climb. I am here, in relative isolation of the pandemic, dealing with personal grief. Recently, my only living sibling died suddenly and this reality has hit me like a two by four, taking me out at the knees.
Most people have already or will experience this situation of a close family member dying. The reaction of friends, family and colleagues meant so much to me though – much more than I had expected. It is like feeling one hundred percent gutted and one hundred percent loved/supported all at the same time. What an odd space within which to exist. To sit with. To feel Gods’ presence in. To feel those prayers that many people have promised and offered up for my consolation. To witness in real time and space the love, service, prayers, check-ins, and food deliveries that are the working hands and feet of Jesus Christ serving me in my pain. What a gift! The words of scripture that I have read, prayed, sung, said to others are now existing within me in a palpable way: “Come to me all who are heavily burdened and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). Thank you, Jesus, for letting me rest in you. Can you allow Jesus to give you a place with which to rest today?