Life, a cold-hearted {beep}

I’ve been writing about pain a lot lately. It’s not that pain is all I have to talk about. I have been intentional about watching sunsets, noticing the phases of the moon, and how brightly the stars shine as the night gets darker. I have paid more attention to the laughter of friends and the hugs of those I love most. But for some reason when I sit down with a keyboard at my fingertips or a pen in my hand…pain spills out.

What do you do when the pain of life becomes overwhelming? What do you do when you can see the sun is still rising, hear the leaves crunch beneath your feet, feel the cool air slightly chill your lungs as fall sneaks in and you know you’re alive. But you cannot feel the joy of it all? Does it mean that you’re depressed? …well maybe. It may also be that your heart is broken. Or some tricky combination of the two and whatever else bereaves the human spirit.

My family has had a really difficult year. 2013 has been a cold-hearted bitch. I’m just sayin’– because it’s true. It hasn’t been isolated to my family though. It seems each passing week brings news of a family friend experiencing some sort of fresh and unexpected heartache.

Yet life moves forward, doesn’t it? No one stops because your heart aches. The world doesn’t pause because you feel like your heart has been ripped from your chest. Some people turn sadness into anger. And some people have righteous anger over the injustice of life. Anger, bitterness, and resentment are easier for sure. On the days I am angry, I can look myself in the mirror and say, “Emily, you’re a fighter. You are a warrior. The God of angel armies goes before you and comes behind you and has prepared a way for you today.” I stripe war paint on my face and bust a move on the day.

But grief and sadness…well they are an entirely different beast. Here’s the thing about sadness…it can be so crippling that you cannot even get out of bed to get to the mirror to tell yourself to shake it off. Even if you are fortunate enough to have people around you who love you and support you and want to do whatever they can for you…there is nothing they can do. There is no band-aid for heartache. Knowing that you’re not alone suddenly becomes irrelevant because you’re on the other side of the glass cage. Friends and family may show up to huddle around your glass cage, but they can’t take it away. It is impossible for them to climb into the cage, into your heart, and fill the holes. They cannot fix it. And so they’re left to helplessly watch you curl up into a ball, succumbed to the pain that threatens to take you out.

(Too much? Is that too much honesty? Can we talk about the kind of pain that is so real that knowing, “God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit” doesn’t make you feel any better because all you feel is the gaping nothingness that now resides where you thought your spirit, joy, life, and happiness used to be? Can we say that here? …I’m going to hope so because it seems to be an all too real reality for myself and many others around me.)

I’ve had many people tell me to let them know if there’s anything they can do, anyway they can help—anything at all—they are just a phone call away. But how do you ask for a new heart? No one ever taught me that. Somehow or another, despite a great education and great life experience…no one ever mentioned how to ask for healing.

Note: This is not a “Jesus is not sufficient for our grief and pain” rant. It’s not even a rant. I wholeheartedly stand on the platform that Jesus issufficient and that He is the only hope and way to get through gut-wrenching pain.

I am simply talking about the feelings. Those times when you don’t feel any better despite what you believe. (Again not a theological discussion on “praising in the storm,” which can often be the only solution.)

This is a serious plea: When the things you desire most are not good for you, when the people you trusted most are the ones causing pain, when loved ones are unfairly taken away, when parents must grieve losing their children, or children grow up without parents…tell me what do you do?

Grief is not exclusive to death. I am talking about real-life selfishness, narcissism, addiction, plain unhealthiness, bitterness, resentment, denial, trauma, abuse…all the things that our sin-filled worlds slaps on our plate and pretends to serve up a good ole meal with.

I am waving the white flag…I admit it: some days I simply can’t find an answer. But I want to offer you a simple acknowledgment—a head nod, if you will—that I see you and I get you. The suffering. The scared. The broken. The alone. The confused. The tormented.

If for nothing else (and I’ve already stated how helpful this can notbe at times but)…you’re not alone.

The world is not a place of perfect people living perfect lives while you suffer alone.

Your pain is real. So is mine. I send you love and hugs through this strange virtual relationship of ours.

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