As I laid in bed I asked myself "what does Saturday look like today?" A million possible things to do, I am a do-er, and it seems that at any given point in life I have a to-do list a mile long....Do you ever feel like that? You have so many things to do all the time, that picking which things to cross of your list becomes its own daunting task?
As I thought of my many potential to-do's, I began to think about what and how I could be present in this beautiful Saturday without getting caught up in all my normal mess of to-do's. And then I started to think about a time when Saturdays held a very specific purpose in my weekly life; Saturdays were my grief days. During a season of being in a very intentional process of growth and change, aka therapy :) not only was I a really busy lady, but I also needed a space that I could actually grieve in; a time that was dedicated to the intentional process of grieving. Saturdays had seemed to become inevitably my grief days.
At that time I needed space for grief. I had been refusing to grieve for so long that at this point I truly needed a place set aside, a space & place I could learn to grieve in - Saturdays.
I needed those Saturdays for quite awhile, a few months actually. They were a necessary intentionality of my process. Over time I needed fewer and fewer Saturdays! Don't get too excited, I didn't say I grieved any less, I just didn't spend all day curled up in a ball shut off from the world. In fact after my "grieving Saturdays" were over, I think I started grieving more! I had learned the importance of grieving; I had learned a little more about the necessary art of losing and grieving, and subsequently had learned a little bit more about how to let grief be a part of everyday life (if necessary) without letting take over where it didn't need to take over. I'm learning there is this balance of grieving - balancing our need for grieving, with our need for living and celebrating, and resting.
Last night I was able to meet with some pretty fabulous ladies and talk about Sabbath, what is it, what does it look like, do we take one, etc. In one of our discussions, my friend pointed out that part of Sabbath is ceasing.
As I woke up and was mulling over my day, I felt the Lord remind me of what my Saturdays used to look like, a place of great unrest, of great pain...A necessary place to teach me more about grief, life, but also about love. Those Saturdays of grief were incredibly influential in my process of learning to grieve. However, minus a Saturday here or there, my Saturdays don't look like this anymore. At one time I really celebrated on Saturdays, taking great delight in the fact that I had reached a place where I could grieve without having to shut myself out from the world.
But I have lost this place of celebration, of delight and praise to God for truly being faithful in seeing me through those storms and those seasons. So today, amidst my crazy to do lists and being sick, I am so thankful and so grateful for my God, for teaching me such a vital lesson about living - His desire for me to be intentional with grief. A lesson through which I now have a Saturday, a Saturday to celebrate His faithfulness;
God is faithful, He helps mein times of great despair. This faithfulness that I speak of today is His faithfulness in the fact that He walked beside me each and every Saturday then, and He walks with me today, and He'll keep walking with me in the Saturdays to come, not that He gave me what I want. What I'd love is that no one would ever have to grieve, that I wouldn't ever have to grieve - but that is not what He takes away. He is not faithful in taking away all the uncomfortable and vulnerable phases of life - for if He did, the sanctification of my heart and soul would be non-existent. So whether or not I get what I want out of these Saturdays of grief or celebration, God is faithfully walking beside me, experiencing my life with me.
So today as I celebrate and reminisce where He and I have been on so many Saturdays, we celebrate together more of this process of what learning to grieve looks like in everyday life, in my life.
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