Scattered Coffee Mugs

 

There are a couple realizations I've come to lately. One happened when I was collecting my husband's coffee mugs one day. Aaron has an affinity for drinking copious amounts of tea and coffee and then becoming blind to the mugs left behind. Some days I find myself collecting mugs from his desk, the dining room table, our side table, shelves, or even windowsills as my absent minded professor husband wanders about with his head in the clouds. Although some things that Aaron does can annoy me (shocker), this habit isn't one of those things. I think that's because my grief brain kicked in early into realizing this habit after we got married. I found myself just staring at his coffee mugs a couple of times. I wasn't thinking about the minor inconvenience of collecting them. I just looked at them and couldn't help but think of how much I would miss seeing those coffee mugs if Aaron wasn't around anymore. I knew how it felt to miss those little things about a person and that made those messy inconsequential coffee mugs very important to me. They became evidence that there was someone important present in my life. I don't want to take that for granted because I know well that neither of us will be here forever.

My second realization was similar. It happened tonight around midnight when I took my dog out for her last walk of the night. When we stepped outside of my apartment door I realized we were in total darkness. This confused me at first because I knew it was dark, but couldn't place why that was so abnormal. Upon further inspection I realized that there are lights next to my door and lining the sidewalks near my building. Tonight the lights are all out for some reason, but the important realization is not that my apartment building is old and strange (it is but not the point). What struck me most is that I never noticed there were lights in the first place even though they have lit my path every night for two years when Hazel and I go walking at night. It's been easy to take them for granted and assume light will always be there, but tonight I found myself in the dark unprepared and a little unsettled. 

These two very unrelated events led me to similar thoughts about grief. It is so easy to grow accustomed to people's presence in our lives. We know in our brains that no one will be in our lives forever, yet we often feel very much the opposite. We never feel ready for loss. There are people in our lives like friends, parents, siblings, and grandparents that have been in our lives so long they feel like a permanent fixture. Yet, some of us have had the misfortune to learn through experience that people can be lost so quickly. When I was in Middle School I got the call that my uncle had died suddenly in a car accident. I wasn't ready for that and I didn't know how to handle it. When I was a freshman in Bible college I spent days sleeping by my Grandpa's bedside praying for him, talking to him, and signing him hymns knowing those were his last moments. When he died with me at his bedside I wasn't ready for that either. I didn't know how to handle it. 

It's too easy to take some of the most important things in life for granted. When grief hits us, unforgiving and all consuming, we aren't prepared. Only in the absence of the people and relationships that matter to us do we realize how truly important they are. Some people realize this in their moments of grief and grow bitter. Many of us have to trudge through the bitterness as it comes to eventually get to a place of hope. The anger at the unfairness of death and shame we put on ourselves for not spending more time or making more memories or telling them we loved them more is part of the process. 

I've grieved almost my entire life now. Losing my dad at the age of three shaped who I am and how I think. I've realized that more the older I get. A friend told me the other day that I'm the most cynical Christian she knows. We both laughed at that because there is a lot of truth to that. I do tend to expect the loss, the pain, and the darkness. I can't help it when I've experienced so much loss since such a young age. I know that loss is real and grief is a painful journey. Despite my cynicism, by the grace of God I became a Christian- the most cynical Christian someone knows apparently. All the times that I spent missing moments with my dad or looking at my husband's coffee mugs and knowing how much I would miss them if he was gone made me appreciate the people in my life so much. I treasure the coffee mugs and the presence of the coffee mug connoisseur in my life because I know what it would feel like to say goodbye. 

For me, the moments missed with the people I care about have shown me how important love is. The relationships we have with people make all these small things we focus on in life so insignificant. I still miss those people, but I am grateful that I've learned how important people are in my life. This lesson that God has taught me through grief has helped me heal and given my life purpose. I love every day of ministry because I know the people God has entrusted me with are incredibly special and important. I also know that many of them are grieving and suffering the way I have and they need hope that has substance and truth. No positive nice sounding sayings will ever heal a grieving heart like the hope of God. Grief can make for a cynical Christian, but it can also make you love the people in your life substantially more because we know the hole in our hearts that their absence brings. 

Fellow grieving people, please know that there is hope that not even death can tarnish. I believe that the son of God walked this Earth and defeated death so that we could live eternally because he loved us. Even so, losing our loved ones during this life truly hurts. We often take their presence in our lives for granted and then regret it when they're gone. One practical piece of advice that I can give you is to let your grief teach you the importance of love. We are undeniably and inexplicably changed after loss. Coffee mugs have a different meaning- coffee mugs have a meaning. We are different people than we were before our grief, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Each one of us has the opportunity to become a more loving and appreciative person because we know how important people are to us. Instead of staying in a place of bitterness walk with me on this journey to becoming a more grateful, possibly more cynical, but absolutely more loving person.

The most important advice I could ever give you is to place your faith and hope in Jesus Christ. Being a Christian is so much more than looking happy, positive, and well put together. Ask us Christian cynics! I didn't start to heal from my grief until I had real substantial hope and that came from Jesus. Hope in Jesus is eternal and not dependent on circumstance. That is crucial to us that know how painful life can be. We don't need a happy good vibes version of Jesus. We need the Jesus in the Bible who grieved and suffered and even died on the cross. He understood pain and he knew that we could have hope in the midst of our suffering. That honesty and realness is something that we grieving people need more than anything. We have a savior who understands our pain and hated death so much that he went to the cross to defeat death. If you know what loss feels like but want to know what love and hope feel like, get to know Jesus. 

Whether you are like me at a place of healing and find yourself staring at empty coffee mugs, depend completely on God. If you find yourself in the dark, confused, and scared realizing you took something important for granted, depend completely on God. Only God can make something beautiful from our sufferings and give us hope in the midst of our pain.