The past few weeks haven’t been sparking joy.

The first thing that hit the fan, was that my Father had some issues that caused him to go into the ER on Tuesday. Some cognitive issues he’s had since the brain infection in May had gotten worse, and through some different tests it was discovered that the early signs of Dementia that were found in the spring have progressed rapidly. We’re now knee deep in Dementia and continuing to sink. What exactly this means is still being processed, discussed, and realized, but for me, this means that he will almost assuredly not be around by the time I turn 30.

When asked how I’m doing, I honestly don’t know how to answer. I’ve had so much experience with grief, yet I feel as if I do it worst each time it comes into my life. Each time it seeps in, I feel more and more numb to it’s touch and more detached from whatever life it is destroying. I know there are choppy waters ahead, and the proceeding decline of my father’s health will be easy for no one. I know the loss of relationship as his brain shuts down will be hard, and there will come a day when we’ve exchanged our last adult conversation. Yet…I’m not really phased. My husband hovers near me after conversations about the upcoming years, staying handy in case I crumbled. I see his concern and know he’s wondering why I am so stoic. I feel as if I should be crumbling, yet I don’t, and that bothers me. Shouldn’t I be more emotional? Shouldn’t I cry and want to be at my father’s side every minute? I feel everything else in life very deeply, so why not this? I don’t have an answer.

Second, I had a moment this week, in the quiet of my head at work that made a part of my heart just shatter.

I observed two ladies walking into a pregnancy center together. They looked so much alike, they could be sisters. They look very alike in appearance and have children of similar ages. In a split second I thought washed in to my mind that made me pause.

I won’t ever have that. Before getting married and my consequent infertility diagnosis, I always vaguely thought that my sister and I would have babies together. We got married not that far apart, and it would be fun to be discovering motherhood and all that at once. Comparing birth stories and sharing what we’d been learning. I realized the time that has passed; we’re more than just a little misaligned. She is blessedly knee-deep in the trenches of motherhood, wading through with excellence. If we ever are blessed with biological children, my nieces and nephews will likely be babysitters, not same-aged friends and partners in crime. I stand on the shore, waiting to dip my toes into the surf, stranded on the dry sand.

So now that we’re all thoroughly depressed, where am I going with all this? Like all of my posts, I don’t write this to be a sob story. But rather because I know I’m not the only one out there who struggles with these things, and I know how much it helps me to see others share and write about the things I struggle with.

As I’m writing and processing this, the question floats to the surface of my mind, where is my faith in all this? What is the truth I need to remember? Are these things I’m allowed to be upset about? I hear the voices of condemnation that I know will be there from certain people reading this, that I’m just complaining or choosing to wallow, and a part of me wonders if that is true. Is this appropriate grief? Ought I to linger here? Shouldn’t I simply remind myself of truth and “trudge on, Christian soldier!” ?

Jesus comes to mind; more specifically, Jesus in the garden before his crucifixion, as well as a few other passages.

“Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” ³⁹ And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” ⁴⁰ And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? ⁴¹ Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” ⁴² Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” ⁴³ And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. ⁴⁴ So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words again.” (Matthew 26:36-56)

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” (Isaiah 53:3)

“And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” (Luke 22:44)

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

My savior grieved. My savior grieved and felt deep sorrow, anxiety and even anguish. He exampled that these heavy emotions are okay to feel. He exampled that we can pray for impossible things, even when we know that what is happening is God’s will.

I find immense comfort in the truth that He has felt the feelings I am muddling through now. That He is acquainted with this grief, that I am not alone in it. In my mind’s eye I can see Him sitting beside me, His arm draped over my shoulders, tears falling down his face as He hears and sees my pain.

Maybe, just a little while, I will sit with Him here, feeling these things and letting His light illumine the dark places. It isn’t comfortable, but if I only know one thing with full confidence, it is that Jesus leaves the dark places lighter when He passes by. If only two things I know for sure, it is that I am in desperate need of His light, His comfort. And I’ll do most anything to get it.

He who is mighty has done a great thing.

-M