We're trying to spend more time in the south bay this summer, hoping to stay connected with my home church. Since my parents died, it's hard to go back and visit. Finding a place to stay can become such a task... not wanting to impose on people. The place I've called home for such a long time just isn't anymore.
When I was going through a rough patch a decade ago, my mentor recommended that I meditate on heaven. It was a novel idea. She pointed out that to most of us, heaven is just a concept in our heads. Rarely is it a reality, except for those who are close to death. Every once in awhile, I will think and consider and ponder about what heaven is like.
Last week at large group we sang "In Christ Alone." I've lost count on how many times I've sung this. It seems to be the go to song for when we need to affirm some truths about our faith. Here is the second half of the last verse:
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from his hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand
In so many ways, grief for me just really means I'm homesick. Very homesick. Home isn't necessarily the place where you grew up. It's where the people you belong to are. And for who knows how long I won't be able to go home. So I'm homesick.
May is anniversary month, or the month when my dad died. I actually get to have two per year (lucky me) - the other being in December. I'm practicing being kind and compassionate to myself, which doesn't come easily to me when it comes to emotionally tough situations. My tendency is to just plow through and stay functional.
I suppose blogging is a practice of that, allowing myself, or making myself have space to grieve. To stop, write, think, and remain instead of pushing aside, distract, or vegge out. Only now do I feel okay blogging about my grief process. I suppose that's an indication of some sort of progress.