The work of grieving is much like waiting out the winter. I can’t rush it. I can’t make it go away. Try as I might, I can’t reinvent it into something more palatable. Escape it? Grief, like winter, will be waiting at my doorstep when I return. In this season of darkness and sadness, when the world outside my window sleeps under a blanket of snow, the only solution is to wait.
When I look outside, I know that beneath the snow, important work is happening. The earth is resting. In winter, waiting is the vital work. As much as I want to hurry the dark days along, winter’s waiting is necessary for spring’s flourishing.
In my days that often seem long and lonely, grief is doing her work too. I am learning to rest, companioning my grief. I am learning to think less about the future and be more present in this day that has been given. Waiting has become my vital work too. As much as I wish I could hurry these dark days along, I am learning that grief’s waiting is necessary for our new life’s flourishing.
The Psalmist writes, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” I trust the Psalmist’s words will be true for me too in God’s good time.