"I will sit here with you in it"

the grief stick has been hitting me pretty consistently lately
not daily, 
but with enough frequency and force that I am weary 
and bruised
and prone to quick tears

it isn't any "one" thing
or conversation
or relationship
or situation
it is a combination of normal and abnormal life events

I keep praying and trusting
I keep getting out of bed
I keep showering and getting dressed
I keep putting one foot in front of the other
I keep doing what needs to be done

I know that grief is a part of life that doesn't follow any set rules
I remind myself that feelings are not truth nor are they trustworthy 
I focus on and am thankful for what I have rather than dwelling on what I don't have
I tell myself that being sad and/or angry is not a sin
I hold onto the lesson that tears are not my enemy

last night and this morning were exceptionally rough
it was baptism Sunday and my spirit desperately wanted to worship
but physically it was difficult to get up, get ready and get out the door
my motivation was obedience to do the next right thing
and a deep desire for fellowship

as I backed out of the driveway I felt something
I wondered if the pavement had shifted
or if one of the kids had left a stick behind my car
and as I cleared whatever the obstacle was I sighed in relief
until I saw what the slight bump was

a small, black kitten 
it was still moving but I couldn't stop
I kept going
and flashbacked to the last time this happened,
years ago, when the kids and I were on our way to the store

I remembered calling Bill and telling him he needed to leave work
he had to come home and take care of it
it had to be done before we got back
this time I couldn't call my Bill and my heart clenched, like it was caught in a vice
I called my neighbor and he assured me it would be gone before I got home

I held "it" together as I drove the few minutes to church
right up until the time I turned the car off
as I sat behind the wheel reliving the two incidents
I didn't know if I'd be able to enter the building
I also knew sitting in the parking lot would be creepy
and someone was sure to see me and check on me
so I allowed myself a little cry, 
grabbed a couple of kleenex
blew my nose, dried my tears, tried to plaster on a smile and went in

Ashley greeted me cheerfully,
asked how I was and knew, 
without me saying a word,
that something was wrong
and simply asked, "Off morning?"

I nodded,
not trusting my voice to hold 
nor the tears to stay at bay
and it worked like a charm
right up until the time she sat down in the chair next to me 

in her eyes was an invitation to talk if I wanted to
and an understanding that I didn't need to if I didn't want to
she said "I'll be praying for you"
and the words tumbled out of my mouth
"the grief stick has been hitting me pretty hard"

and my tears started again
as I sat and told her about the cat
about how the memory of what happened the last time had engulfed me
and how that memory was much worse than running over the kitten
and then her eyes filled

she fearlessly and compassionately looked me straight in the eyes
and quietly spoke some of the bravest and most beautiful words I've heard on this journey
"I don't understand your grief, 
I can't and I won't pretend to, 
but I can and will sit here with you in it."

I received a unique and priceless gift from my friend this morning
as she sat alongside me,
not feeling the need to ignore or change the subject
allowing her tears to fall alongside mine
shouting "I love you" with her quiet presence