Acceptance. It’s the 5th and final stage of grief. And I can’t… quite… get… there.
I’m so tired of feeling sad and desperate. How long could this grieving thing possibly take? I know I must be slower than most everyone else, right? It’s just like a woman to compare herself to others. The idea is ridiculous…
Ideal Griever: “Well, I moved through all five stages of grief in just 5 months. I spent one month on each stage. Very efficient, eh? What about you, where are you in your grieving process?”
Me: Well, I don’t know… I bounce back and forth between stage 3 & 4 – and then sometimes I find myself living back in stage 1 (denial) just to survive the day-to-day, ya know?
Ideal Griever: And how long has it been since the accident?
Me: Um, we just passed the 18 month mark.
Ideal Griever: Oh.
Ludicrous, right? Well, I just wish it was simpler sometimes – more clear-cut. Grieve and done. Let’s just get. it. done. But God doesn’t work that way. His carvings take time… painful time.
I think one complication is that there are so many different things to grieve. I’ve grieved losing the old Anne and all of her unique little ways. I’ve grieved the freedom of having all of my children be mobile and independent. Now I find myself grieving Anne’s health. She has seizures. She is unpredictable. She is demanding. She’s not whole. You can feel the sunken place on her skull where the brain tissue has atrophied from the damage. My sweet Anne is broken – a fragile jar of clay – and we are left learning how to compensate.
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Cor. 4:7). God always shows me that I am the same as Anne… I am a broken jar of clay – in desperate need of surpassing power. I think we all are. Don’t you?