One month ago today, I lost my dad. And earlier this week was the 5 year anniversary of the loss of my mom.
Grief is hard. And while I am aware there is no manual and no one grief story is the same. There is this unspoken pressure I feel.
A feeling that there are things I “should” be doing, saying, feeling, that creates a category designated as the “right” way to grieve.
I feel lost. As though I am in a fog and I’m unable to articulate what I need or to even utter a prayer.
And yet there’s this tiny mustard seed of faith inside me. It is what I am clinging to as I wade through . . .
This tiny mustard seed is allowing my feelings to not have the last word. They are not the truest thing about me. This tiny mustard seed says my God is real.
His love is real.
His kindness is real.
His grace is real.
His compassion is real.
And with that, He says I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. And I have permission to ‘be’ whatever ‘be’ is right now.
And I think He’s ok if I cuss a little too. Because this is f*$%ing hard.