Monday, January 8, 2018

Her spirit returned

Dear Internet,

Today my grandpa died. Grandpa Chris. Dad's dad. He was special to me: smelled like a pipe; reminded me of classy belt buckles; sounded like Denmark and childhood; smiled like Dad; I could go on and on. This last year and a half has been more painful than anything I have ever known. I've done hard things before, but I've never kicked and screamed as much on the inside while doing the simplest of things. I cannot tell you how many pep talks I've given myself in elevator rides on the way to see Grandpa. Seeing Grandpa was always more than seeing him; it was not seeing Dad.

Tonight, he is gone, and it's starting to settle in. It settled a bit more as I rested my head on Grandma's shoulder and felt her rest hers on mine, in return. She knows. Through all of the dementia and the silly conversations we seem to have lately, she knows this time. And she shakes her head and wonders how she lost "both," and I wonder too. I just don't have the energy to bring my lips together, expel the breath, and say the same words. Or, is it even energy? I'm not sure what it takes to feel anymore.

I am going to miss what it felt like to have a dad, and to have a dad's dad. I'm going to miss the stories, the simplicity, the love. I don't even want to write down what I'm going to miss right now, because right now, I'm not so much in the mood.

I came home and read my Bible, and it felt comforting and confusing. There's a lot to that, and I'm not going to dig deeply as I write. But, at the end of the eighth chapter of Luke, is it any wonder that the scripture to catch my eye was "... Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up." Yes, this is the dead girl: the one they said not to bother with because it was too late. Jesus walked into the room and her spirit returned to her. Where had it gone? And, how? I don't want your answers, reader. With all due respect... I know you mean well. I know you probably have lovely things to say, and I would like to sit and soak up all of the lovely and believe in it, without ceasing. But Jesus, I'm talking to you tonight. Where had her spirit gone? Where are the spirits of the ones I love?

Imagining this girl's spirit returning feels comforting to me, somehow. To see that she is dead, but there is this part of her very much alive, reminds me that what I saw today is not death but separation. I don't know how all of it works. I just put my hope in Jesus that all of it does work. I put my hope in His voice and power; the One who reunites the spirit with the body and restores life. I want that. I want these three people I love, Dad, Grandpa, and even Grandma, to step out of this flat image on my desk with their smiles and radiant skin, with their beating hearts, with their tender voices, and I want to hear them laughing and telling stories again. I want to eat sheet brownies and sip lemonade out of turquoise glass cups.

Jesus, would you peel back some of the mystery and comfort my family this evening, please? And then, would you add some of the mystery back in and keep drawing us nearer to you... desiring more and more to have a closer look at your beauty? Give me more than belief; give me confidence in You. And Lord, please comfort my sweet grandma, who feels as if she has lost so much (and she has), but who has yet to gain so much, as well. Show her hope and a future. Show her You. 


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