The Pilgrim Grief Ambush: Grief Chronicles #1

 They say that no one type of person grieves in the same way. What they don't tell you is how to identify grief. I suppose the reason for this is because grieving is an isolating experience that only the person grieving truly understands and many times we don't even know that yes, this too, is a form of grief. 

It isn't that we intend to isolate ourselves and not reach out to others, it is usually because we don't understand exactly what we are experiencing and when we do, it's too late to reach out because the ambush has begun.

Just like any type of ambush, a grief ambush comes when you least expect it and usually in a way that you wouldn't have thought it could happen. If you are like me, you have worked hard to avoid things that you know will cause you to grieve, so when you get ambushed it just throws everything off.

My most recent ambush was last weekend at Hobby Lobby. My daughter was with my in-laws, and my husband stayed in the car with our son while he slept. I had a mission to find some decorative tape, but of course got pulled into the aisles of fall abyss. I love fall. As I was perusing the many shades of pumpkins, there they were.

Pilgrims.

My mother also loved all things fall, but she especially liked pilgrim figurines, and she had many of them. If I closed my eyes I could transport back in time to sometime in the 90's, and see my mothers smile and hear the response she would give when asked why pilgrims are so special. She responded with something like this:

"The pilgrims went through many trials and hardships, but they still thanked God for His provision. They remind us to give thanks to God in all things!".

When my siblings and I got older, we would tease her about the sheer amount of pilgrim decorations she had. And now, how I would love to get my hands on one set of those plain clothed, buckled shoed people so that my children can ask me the same question I asked my mom.

It took a matter of minutes to go from casually perusing to quick grieving. Grief never fails to shock. It shocks your system, even though your body is no stranger to the sensations that the unwelcome reality brings. There was a woman who was shopping next to me, and it took everything in me not to put my hands on her shoulders and scream "Why?! Why do they have pilgrims?!"  

Thankfully I didn't. I'm sure it would have had a negative affect on the other shopper, but it also wouldn't be helpful to ask that question to a complete stranger, because they won't know that answer for me. And that is the point: there is no actual answer in grief. Not even those closest to you can answer the questions of  your grief.

I remember how in the the next days/weeks after my mom died, in complete and utter shock, I would ask my husband "Is mom really gone? Did she really die?" He would put his arm around me and say gently "Yes honey. Your mom really is gone." I would then go and ask other people the same question, as if all it took was finding the right person to tell me that this was all a nightmare and I had just woken up. At that point I would have been okay with someone lying to me, because that meant I could keep lying to myself, because the truth was too much to bear.

I know it won't stop at Pilgrims. I'm fully prepared for it to come in the form of a peach dessert, Thanksgiving in general, the advent season, and Martina McBride's "Let Freedom Ring", and anything old school from Amy Grant. I guess the good news is that I'm more aware of how, but more importantly need to be aware of who. 

The One who knows the answers to all my grief and pain. The One who is enjoying my mother's beautiful voice as she worships Him.