We have all felt it and wrestled it to the ground asking it to please leave us and our families alone. We have all tried to negotiate with it saying we’d take it for our babies, friends, and loved ones.
We try to avoid it and dodge its tactics. And we all beg it to leave and never come back, and for some, we make decisions in hopes of it never knocking on our heart’s door again. We put up walls and barriers barring out the ones we love and those who try to draw near.
I remember the very first time I felt heartache. I don’t even think I knew then quite what it was. I was five and my grandfather had just passed. I remember squeezing my eyes so tight and the lump in my throat that wouldn’t leave. I remember being so sad at what was lost. It was the first of many heartbreaks that would befall me.
I felt it again the day our truck pulled out of the driveway with all our stuff, my mom, sister and I but without my dad. I felt it again when I had a due date that would not bear a child.
I am no stranger to heartbreak. But that doesn’t make it welcome or easy, or anything other than gut-wrenching, breathtaking, life-altering pain.
I wish I could go back and tell five -year- old me that I will again feel that same way and there is a father in heaven grieving with me. I wish I could tell the heartbreak in me that though things would never be the same again and my relationship with my earthly father might always be broken, he is my forever Abba.
He is perfect.
I wish I could say it gets easier but it never ever does. Every new ache is a fresh bloody wound we want so badly to heal over. And every one takes its own time and special care to heal- some faster and more whole than others.
I wish I could tell the 5 year old me that Jesus heals all wounds and rights all wrongs and kisses all our boo boos and mends our bloody broken mess. He heals the wounds we don’t self inflict and even the ones we do.
What a good father he is and will always be.
I’d say all this in terms a five year old could comprehend, of course, but that’s what I’d say. I’d say you don’t have to squeeze your eyes so hard so you don’t cry.
You are safe.
Let it fall like rain.
I’d say some wounds will undoubtedly be worse than others. Some will hurt so bad and leave cuts so big, you’ll swear they’ll never heal.
But they will.
Some scab over and scar up but they never go away. Some wounds change us and never leave us. But we learn to live with them and I think living through the pain, is maybe better anyway. After all, pain makes joy taste so sweet.
It makes you cherish and savor love not lost and people who stay. It makes you take in and appreciate promises kept and faithful friends. Without the sting of loss and heartache, we can’t quite relish redemption. So maybe, just maybe it’s worth it. I’d tell my five year old self I’ll let her know.
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