Sunday evening, I watch.
A dumb movie reruns huge chunks of my life, different phases, all fouled up and foolish…
“Does this bother you?” my fellow watcher asks.
“No,” I scoff, “because [the movie] it’s just so stupid.”
But Monday morning hangs heavy, a cloud pushes my body hard into floorboards, as my feet plod through the morning motions.
I go to prayer. But instead of the usual psalms, prayers, and songs, I burst into weeping, and honesty breaks free.
No writing-as-usual. The keyboard holds itself in defiance. Words inside are confusion.
But write I do, in my journal.
And I read. I read my Bible, listening for God. And blog posts of others, listening for insights. And my own journal page:
“Movie last night flashed back my life… and this morning Psalm 90 comes up, reminding me my earth-time’s a fleeting vapor…
“I’ve set myself to use it better… but I haven’t anything significant to do, just keep home and laundry in decent order, meet husband’s small domestic needs, and give and pray and encourage others… a mere drop, certainly nothing setting the world afire. I feel like a washout… at a dead end…
“But I can thank God…”
And there follows a grace list, and it grows long and deep: God’s giving through all the “fouled up and foolish,” till I sit awed at the intervening mercies.
Then I make a short list, things I did right — by God’s grace! — both “back then” and recently, and it comes clear that the Accuser bad-talks at us the way I’d been doing to myself. (Conviction from God’s Holy Spirit corrects; Accuser condemnation aims only to defeat.) So, whose spokesperson had I been?
Then God speaks from His word:
From Colossians 1, these words leap out: “the hope laid up for you in heaven.” They wash over me like soothing oil. It’s not over even when it’s over here.
And then Philippians. And well, if you know Philippians… But for now, just this: Phil 3:13-14.
Finally, others’ blogs. Still wondering how a “stupid movie” could blindside and knock me so low, I behold someone else’s grief revisit, triggered by a seemingly mundane event — and realize mine came to call again the same way!
We mourn the loss not only of people, but also of dreams, of might-have-beens. And tiny triggers can call back hidden pain in startling waves.
Now with waves receded, stilled, I sit and shake my head a little, still somewhat stunned, pondering the why.
I think God gives us such “re-griefs” to finish healing we don’t realize we still need. And to equip us for comfort of others in pain.
No more blues now. Only settled, grateful peace.