Joy In the Shattering
Over the last few months I've been contemplating the possibility of starting my blog up again. It's been some time since I've written, and even longer since I've been consistent. I started this blog probably around 10 years ago or so, and over the last few months I have had a few instances where it has come up in conversation. I suppose writing is therapeutic for me, and it just might be time to share my thoughts once again.
This past year has been quite a year, and part of me is more than ready to see this decade end. Seeing 2020 feels surreal! Another decade is ending, and a new one is about to begin - one full of so many possibilities!
Yet, as much as I'm ready for 2019 to end, my heart hurts thinking about it. If I could sum up this year with one word I would choose "shattered." I've been thinking about this a lot, and it somehow holds both sorrow and joy.
In life it is so true that life can change in an instant. 2019 started off in a relaxed, peace filled manner. However, by mid January little did I know that so much of what I knew in life was going to take one hit...then another...then another...then another... Truthfully, one form of pain rolled into the next, and by September, tragedy shattered me beyond recognition.
When Jesus took my Grandpa home unexpectedly, every part of me went numb. Throughout these past few months, I have been forced to learn what it means to have grace for myself and that grief is a process that doesn't have specific time frames. This process has taught me so much about myself, about others, and about the reality that God really truly holds us together.
I don't want this to be a heavy post, but I want it to be real. I chose to start writing again with this topic because I want to honour my Grandpa, and the incredible life he lived.
Throughout the last few months I've done a lot of thinking, observing, and analyzing. I've always had questions about why I am the way I am, and it was at the funeral where I really began to understand.
It seems as though everyone we talked to told us how much Grandpa loved. How he always remembered people, always made people feel welcome, and how highly they thought of him. People came to the funeral who he hadn't seen in years, yet they valued the relationship they had with him. Honestly, it broke me because I know Grandpa didn't even realize that some of the people who came thought that highly of him.
Why as a society do we wait until a funeral to express appreciation for someone's life? Why is it so difficult to let the people we care about know that we do? I think we live in a society that says busy is best, and our culture is so good at saying it's okay to put that first instead of people.
I'm guilty of using the 'busy' card. Work, errands, life. "Things." Sometimes they get in the way. But, should they?
In these last few months, I've become increasingly thankful for the godly heritage I have and for the deep love that my Grandpa showed. I'm so honoured to have had an incredible example to look up to and to shape my worldview of what it looks like to love deeply. I am so thankful that my Grandpa loved Jesus, and that is why he could love as he did. There is always room for growth, and I pray I can take what Grandpa lived, and express the love of Christ through my life.
I honour you, Grandpa.
So, this year has shattered me in sorrow to the point beyond recognition. I am not who I was going into this year. However, somehow God is reminding me that this shattering can contain joy. Something that has been shattered will never look the same again. If it is rebuilt, it takes on a new form and a new design. There can be joy in the shattering, knowing that if I allow Him to, God will rebuild me into someone new. Someone with new perspective. God is faithful. We don't always see it, and in the pain I haven't seen it in the dark moments. Yet, He is still there. Shaping, molding, growing me - us - into exactly who He designed me to be. That's the joy in the shattering. That He is making me more like Him.
