Lost Song

The cheerful sound of
tambourines is stilled;
the happy cries of celebration
are heard no more.
The melodious chords
of the harp are silent.
~ Isaiah 24:8


I have had a difficult time grieving the loss of my Papa. Oh, sure, I can write about it, but I haven't really "done it." I can know in my head how this mourning thing should work, but I haven't let my heart "go there."

See, I thought I knew how to grieve because I was blessed to be born to 11 grandparents / great-grandparents and had already lost 9 of them - most not until I was old enough to fully experience it ... but this, this is different. This is my Papa. This is the strong, but gentle man that let his grand kids crawl up in his lap early on summer mornings and watch Bugs Bunny with him. This is the humorous man that put a little coffee in our sippy cups. This is our Papa who would chuckle silently at the head of the table while his grand kids showed each other the food in our mouths at the other end of the table - nobody in between noticing (except our disgusted moms). This is our Papa that took the boys fishing; and let us girls put curlers in his hair and give his big, worn carpenter-hands a manicure. This is our Papa who wanted to make certain that all of his kids and grand kids knew Jesus and would be in Heaven with him someday. This is my wise, pray-warrior Papa, one of my spiritual mentors (along with Grandma), who always seemed to know just the scripture to fit your circumstance. This is my Papa whom I love. So how, exactly, am I just supposed to know how to grieve the loss of him? It's never been like this before.

I have been back in church for two Sundays. I was serving in Worship Tech, running the light board both weeks. It was different. I couldn't worship the LORD. I love to worship God ... no, I mean I really love to worship God. It is the way that I most intimately connect with Him. When I worship God, everything else fades away. People, time, space ... they all just disappear and it's me & Jesus. I choose to fully enter into His presence and love on Him ... and, not just know but, feel Him love on me. Worship is my most natural way to communicate with the LORD. The thing is, I didn't feel like communicating with Him. I realized I had not really talked to Him since Papa's Home-going Celebration service. I had not really felt like much of anything since then either. It wasn't really a conscience decision not to talk to God, but more of a lack of desire to deal with feelings, period.

I had spent many prayers and requests of prayer on my family during Papa's battle over the past few months. I had prayed that they would draw closer to God rather than become bitter / angry and turn from Him. And now, here I am not talking to God myself. I didn't want to be in this place and I don't want to stay here either.

I decided I should probably talk to someone and try to process. The same day that I thought that, I received an email from a lady with many years of Hospice experience that works at my church now. She wondered if I would like to meet with her and talk. How very God to work that out! So I met with her earlier this week. She asked me about Papa. She asked me what it was like to be with him during those past few days. Did I have questions for God or was I angry or what? I didn't know. "I'm not really feeling," I said. I told her about my lack of a desire to worship or pray. "I feel like I've 'lost my song,'" I told her. She gave me some wise God-filled guidance. She reminded me that God isn't afraid of my questions or anger; it's okay and natural to feel those things; and HE'd rather have me come to Him with my "whys" than to give Him the silent treatment. My head got that, but still not my heart. She prayed a beautiful prayer for me before I left her office. I know that meeting with her helped tremendously, but I still hadn't processed.

It was rainy and gloomy the next evening when I, at the suggestion of the aforementioned lady, met with one of my pastors. He asked me what I'd been feeling. I told him the same that I had said the day before. I told him that I had not talked to God since all of this. At that moment, the skies really started to down-pour. My pastor looked at me and, in all sincerity, said, "Do you think that could be God's tears for you?" Um, whoa, but I guess, yeah. "Probably," I answered, still not really feeling much of anything.

We talked some more. Then he said that he was discerning as I spoke, and that he thought I should pray out-loud with him there, rather than him praying for me. Why not, okay, guess it can't hurt to try. My heart was skeptical, but I agreed. I started by just flat out admitting to God that I didn't know what to say to Him. I just kept praying even though I didn't feel like it, and before I knew it, I was a watery-eyed, drippy-nosed, gasping-for-air mess. I was surprised by the questions I had for God, but HE wasn't. I was surprised to hear myself say that I didn't think it was fair, but HE wasn't. I was surprised to realize that I still believe HE is compassionate, faithful, and just; but HE wasn't. GOD wasn't surprised by any of my prayers because HE knew my heart even when I was so numb that I didn't. I asked the Lord's forgiveness for my silence. I asked Him to remind me and show me the ways that HE is holding my broken heart. I asked Him for my song back.

When I left, the sky was beginning to clear. Like me, it was still a little cloudy and dreary; but the hope of light was peaking through. I know there will still be days where there are more clouds than sunshine, but I believe God gave me my song back (I even tried it out in the shower this morning! :) My song won't ever sound the same as it did before; but it will be beautiful!

He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

and steadied me as I walked along.

He has given me a new song to sing,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see what he has done and be amazed.

They will put their trust in the Lord.

Psalm 40:2-3