The sky is dreary and gray. The trees are beginning to or have lost their leaves. It feels drab and dreary as I walk outside to journey across the parking lot to the church. As I am walking, I cannot help but think about how grief is like this. Grief is like a dreary fogging Fall morning where one cannot see what is coming next.

However much like the fog, I know that the veil of grief will begin to lift and the sun will peak forth. Like I mentioned the other day, in my blog post, grief has a way of knocking us over or we ride it gently. We ride it gently until the fog of grief is lifted up.

I know that the sun will again shine. I know that my hope is found in Christ. I also know that my grief is not done alone. There are others in community who carry it with and for me; for us. Because like my friend Lindy shared, grief is not just something dying. It is a changing of a relationship.

I am reminded of those days in May of 2017 where I found myself living in liminal space; wondering what was next and looking towards the future. In those days, the relationships around me were changing. And to be honest, there are days I still grieve and mourn because the relationships continue to change. Yet I am reminded of Ellie Holcomb’s words “Sometimes we have to bury dreams, leave them deep in the earth behind us, how can I go on?” The reality is that even in the midst of all kinds of grief, we can go on because God does not leave us or forsake us.

Grief ebbs and flows. It is a reminder that we loved and were loved. And, my friends, there are days that it seems like that veil will always stay covered. But, I promise, the veil does lift. The veil leads way to light; the light who shines through the darkness.

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