Life is Pain, Not Disneyland — Grateful, yet Grieving
When I was 9 years old, I visited Disneyland for the very first time. I have vague memories of going to Fantasy Land, where Cinderella’s castle captured my attention. I recall the river cruise in Frontier Land. When I came to Tomorrow Land, I was curious and wondered if what I saw would be the future.
Six years ago, when my husband suddenly died, I entered my own Tomorrow Land, arriving in a place I had never imagined or experienced before. I was thrown into an abyss of grief I had no idea how to manage. The reality of the quote from The Princess Bride movie became true; "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
Walking around like a zombie the first weeks after my husband died, I found no words to describe my pain. Just as toddlers cannot say sentences, they begin by pointing to pictures to communicate. My first thing in the morning was putting on my shoes and taking the dog for a walk. While walking, I discovered I could find actual objects to describe my grief. A broken, dead tree or a demolished building that sat in ruins became the symbols of how I felt. I took pictures with my phone to begin to describe the grief. My eyes were looking for what my mind needed to put words to.
The next discovery I made was that there were other people’s words to describe my pain. The Psalms of lament became a balm for my broken heart when I would read Psalm 13, verse 1, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” In Psalm 56, verse 8, “You yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” I wrapped myself in these words to define my state of being. Hope began to drip into my dry bones.
With photos and other people’s words, I began to find my own voice to depict my pain. I journaled my feelings, my questions, my fears, my scattered thoughts, and tear-filled prayers. I filled page after page the first weeks and months as I poured out my heart. What began as a wordless entry into an unknown land has become a safe harbor for others who are wondering and wandering as they grieve the loss of their spouse.
I had no clue whether I would make it in those first weeks and months. Day by day, over the weeks and months and now years, I have held on to the One who is with me, sustaining me, carrying me, recording every tear, listening to every prayer, spoken and unspoken. There hasn't been a day God has not been faithful. He is and will be for you.
