born again again . . .
Camp always does this for me, at least a little.On my way out here, I was commenting to our youth minister how really dead I feel inside. A family death does that to you, you know - and since Dad passed away, I have felt as though I have died a little myself.
I promised myself one thing - no one is going to rush me through this grief process. I spoke with a man the other night about my recent loss, and he started to give me the "suck it up and get over it" speech. I asked him what he meant, and he started to tell me about when his mother died, 12 years ago, and he started to tear up. I think he proved my point. I want to feel joy at the blessings of the relationship when 12 years rolls around - not unresolved grief.
Anyway, this week has been good for me - something about the exuberance of youth, the late night poker tournaments, the joy and laughter and privilege of being around people - young adults, really - who will listen to a little experience, and then wryly grin, knowing that they are going to go out there and create their own experiences, thank you.
Maybe, just maybe - I've been reborn a little this week. It kinda feels like it.
Gotta sojourn out to the volleyball court - which is, by the way, one of the things that makes camp great.
posted by the sojourning pilgrim @ 11:58 AM
2 Comments:
It's wise of you to let grief chart its own course, I think. After my Mom died fifteen years ago I didn't show signs of grief (but I felt it) for about six months. Then one night we watched "Driving Miss Daisy." There's a scene where Morgan Freeman feeds Jessica Tandy, and in my imagination she became my mother, and I fell apart. Though I had been in ministry for over 10 years, that was the year I learned the unpredictability and uniquely personal rhythm of grief. Knowing you, you will be both blessed and a blessing in 12 years. For that matter, you are a blessing now...except to furry little woodland creatures.
Thanks, Bob.
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