Grief, Loss, Powerlessness

With an edge of panic in her voice, my friend said, “No! Don’t!”

This was in response to the desire I had been fighting to make something happen in regards to mission and my livelihood. My heart was telling me, Let God make the next move, but my mind was pressuring me to do something. You have to do something, anything! No one is going to do it for you. It’s all up to you.

Of course this is how my life has been since I can remember. I would only get something if I decided to get it. My nature and (lack of) nurture both feed that bias. It is also reinforced by American culture that idolizes self-sufficiency and initiative.

God isn’t wanting to keep me from action per se. He is wanting me to be sensitive to his leading so that the smallest nudge from him would put me into action. Too often in the past God has had to use a spur on me rather than just a pull on the bit. In order to feel that nudge, I need to learn to listen only to him.

This is no easy task for anyone. For me, I’m wired to make things happened. It is part of who I am. God is trying to direct that impulse for his use, though. Once there I’m confident God will do some amazing things. Not because of me but because of his reign (or rein) in my life. I feel like this is so close.

So what do I do in the meantime as I wait for God’s prompting? I need to explore my grief, loss and feelings of powerlessness. At least this is what my prophetic friend has counseled me toward. So far, in her directions, she has not been wrong, and I’ve needed her insight to clear away the noise of my life. I have no reason not to follow her counsel now.

It’s an intriguing thing to consider my grief, loss and powerlessness. They are not things that are fun to think about nor are they things that make for happy days. I’ve already been writing about my story, so I know how exhausting it is to pull up the emotions of 10 years ago. For that is when I start my story.

10 years ago at exactly this time of year the watershed moments of my life began. Over the course of four months, starting September 2002, I lost my church, my home, my baby, my husband and finally my mother in early January 2003. The grief of that time is still real even if this 10 year anniversary does not fill me with dread as one would suppose. This assignment of exploring my grief, loss and powerlessness may change that, however.

As I’ve been writing the point of grief that has pricked me most, so far, is the loss of my baby. I will admit that I thank God that my child does not have my former husband as a father in this world. The confusion and turmoil he represents by his life would be very hard to manage. But still I grieve that I have no child. My heart breaks that I’m not allowed to raise and love my little girl. I always think my baby was a girl with long, curly red hair, my nose and deep brown eyes. She would be nine years old now.

The loss seems clear, yet I know that God has more to uncover. I feel the loss of a mom who was never a mom, a dad who is now present but wasn’t when I was a child, a family that doesn’t speak. In order to heal, it is important to see things as they truly are, talk about them and move forward. Without that, healing will be denied. So I speak of things my family doesn’t or won’t. I allow myself to feel how I feel about situations, knowing that others might feel differently. We need to process our loss in order to regain ourselves.

I do not like being powerless. It is the one thing I have fought my entire life, starting with a vow I made when I was four years old. Relinquishing power and control is not something I like to do, but I am currently embracing my powerlessness so that God can effect the right change in me. In the past I have fought that powerlessness. I am, after all, a fighter by nature. Yet still there are times when we are truly powerless. I was powerless to keep my husband from leaving. I was powerless to keep my baby. I was powerless in keeping my mom from dying. Did I fight? Yes. Did my fight change anything? Yes. It changed me. It honed my desires and my priorities. I knew what was most important in life, yet in the end I lost all of it anyway. I was powerless to keep it.

Now, as I wait on God, I embrace my powerlessness. I embrace the fact that any door I knock on will be the door God puts before me. It isn’t a weakening feeling. It is a feeling of ultimate power because God, the author and creator of the universe, is the one making things happen. It is his supreme power that is at work. I trust that. His power is and always will be greater than mine. Since I am his child, that power becomes mine as well. So by embracing my human powerlessness, I open the door for God’s ultimate power.

Grief, loss and powerlessness are only doorways to healing, restoration and immense power when given over to God. Those are doors well worth waiting for.