I've learned some things about grief. It takes time... It takes its own time... Not mine. It also takes energy. I have learned that when you don't have those to give, or when you tight-fistedly wont give freely of these oh-so-precious commodities, something ugly will take shape - a mutated and warped little monster is born... So here I have found myself - attempting to destroy said little monster by first ripping off his head and then beating him with it, until all that remains is the true nursling grief, the comfort grief, the hope that is grief.
I am attempting to give my time and my energy. To the memory of a dog, but more importantly to myself and to my God. To what once was, what might be, what can never be again...
Time and experience are racing by like an un-manned train from an old western. This has been a mind-numbing and heart-wrenching year... My life is beginning to take shape, to truly solidify into something very very real, and it is an incredibly painful process. Losing my friend is really just one more piece of the chaos and desperation I have been living out, perhaps it will be THE piece, the final piece to some great puzzle, that I alone could never solve. Because, for as crazy and demanding, and destructive as my chosen path must be, by it's very nature - my soul, my spiritual journey has no business being so ridiculous, so flighty - not now, not ever!
I'm not sure how Juby plays into this truth, I can't put my finger on it exactly, but she has been so intricately tied to my spiritual connection with God. It sounds silly huh? A little melodramatic perhaps, but she was a gift, a gauge, a presence that was so directly linked to the creator and my place in the creation, her absence is truely a strange, huge, aching hole. But the sadness of loss carries with it also the hope of potential, the possibilities of fulfillment...
The map of my journey is marked with the roads of deceit and selfishness, blind alleys of lost intention and failed do-it-yourself schemes. Evan and I have been divinely protected, a gift we have never deserved, a grace we have never lived up to. We are on the threshold of a great and glorious future, and I refuse to let it happen by default, while I sit afraid and hurting, enchained in my sin and guilt, frozen with disenchantment and failed expectation.
Right now, in these moments, God is demanding so much - he is once and for all requiring our hearts, our minds, and our bodies be given solely to him. He is ganging-up on us, if you will, coming from all angles, all relationships, all experiences, and we are finally beginning to get the picture... It's a struggle, a process, and it hurts... But He. Is. Winning!
My loss, my grief, my pain - I'm so very certain it is all part of the same great happening, a journey which will become my story - God's story in me. I don't know all the connections and pieces just yet, I may never, but I know in my gut, it's God, all God...
Grief does not come alone, if you can get a glimpse past its looming presence, it comes with joy, it certainly comes with hope... Hope for something new, something richer and better.
It's a gift from God, the context for his life work in my heart and my mission! I AM able, I'm not sure I'm ready, but may God prepare my spirit and fuel my drive, may I have grace and passion to become something beautiful. May God take my life for all of time!
I miss my dog, her stinky breath, and silky ears... I miss her following me up and down the stairs and back again, and her piles of stolen shoes... I feel her absence in my house and in my consciousness, but her loss, as was her life, is really so much more then those things, and ultimately that's the point really.


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