the Shattered Place

The Shattered Place...it's the only way I know how to explain grief. If you have a shattered place of your own, then this post will probably make perfect sense to you. If you do not, then maybe this will give you a better understanding of grief. Please indulge me, this one may get long. But, today, I unexpectedly revisited my shattered place, and I just need to type out my jumbled thoughts and sit for a while and remember Joe.

What is a shattered place exactly? Well, imagine that you are running at the break-neck speed of life and you carry in your hands this very delicate glass ball called "life as you know it" or "your world." Then, maybe it is expected, maybe it is a complete surprise, but your ball slips from your hands and shatters in a gazillion pieces all around you. Someone very close to you, someone you love deeply dies.

In my case, it was my brother, Joe. It was December 11, 2004. Joe had non-hodgkins lymphoma. He fought it hard three times in just under three years, but still we believed. It was this week four years ago that he went into the hospital for the last time. He had to go on a respirator and be sedated because he had gotten a lung infection shortly after a harsh round of chemo. I remember telling my sister-in-law that he was going to be really mad when he woke up and found out that he had slept through Thanksgiving. I remember her laughing and saying that we would have to have Thanksgiving again. I remember being thankful that Thanksgiving that Joe was still with us, that he was still fighting.

Back to the shattered place...

You stand in this place, no longer running at the break-neck speed, you just stand there. You see everyone around you still moving at the same speed. Grief can be a very lonely place to be because you are stuck, standing barefoot in the middle of shattered glass just trying to remember how to breathe in and breathe out while everyone else is still whizzing by.

Eventually, you finally take that first step forward, but it is painful, very painful. Then another...another...you keep turning around to look back at the shattered glass to make sure it is still there. The more steps you take, the easier they become, the glances back become less frequent, and eventually, you find that you have resumed the break-neck speed of life again. The shattered place will always be there, and you can go back and visit it anytime you need or want. Sometimes you plan it, other times it sneaks up on you and surprises you. Today was that day for me.

I was taking Jared to his friend's house back in Cedar Hill. A few minutes before we get there, we pass the cemetary where we buried my brother. I know this, but I just wasn't thinking about it. As soon as it came into view, I felt like all the air was sucked out of my lungs and the tears immediately began to sting my eyes. I managed to get Jared dropped off and then went back and stopped by his grave just to see the words again. To make it real again...to make him real again.

I miss him. I miss him with every cell in my body. I miss his baby blue eyes. I miss his hands being so animated as he would tell a story, and he was always telling a story. I miss his voice. I miss him wrapping his arms around me and saying, "I love you baby sister." I miss his Godly counsel and wisdom, his always knowing exactly what verse of scripture I needed in that moment. I miss hearing him pray. I miss all of him.

But...I know this to be true...God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. God is faithful and good in ALL things. He is all-sufficient and His grace really is enough. To quote the words on Joe's grave stone, "God IS, and all is well."

I will end this with a song that God gave to me in the car on the way to the hospital to say goodbye on December 11, 2004. It so describes Joe and the way he lived and died, and it tells of God's faithfulness to those of us left here for awhile.



Sweet Jesus, You are Holy. You are worthy of all my praise. Jesus, I praise you and even in my brokenness I lift my hands and praise you because you alone are worthy. Thank you, Jesus, for loving me. Thank you for anchoring me through the storm. Thank you that your mercies are new every morning. Jesus, I pray you take my brokenness and use it for your glory. Amen