And so I try. I try so hard to find ways to numb the pain, to bury the sorrow, to go on living. My default coping mechanism is and always has been to stay busy. For the past several months I have found myself digging deep into a busy lifestyle in an attempt to deflect the pain that so often threatens to consume me. I work more hours, clean more, run more, write more, do more; all in an effort to deal with the hurting that will not stop. I have no passion for any of these things. They simply occupy my time and divert my attention. All of these things pale in comparison to the job I had as Laynee's mommy. At the end of each day, what I find is that the pain is still there, my heart remains sorrowful and my arms still ache with emptiness. No matter how much I do, it is never, ever enough.
One of the most difficult aspects of this grief is coming to terms with the reality that this our life. That grief is forever. At times, this one irreconsilable truth threatens to get the best of me. I wonder, truly wonder, if I am going to make it. Will there be enough to do for the rest of my days to keep me from being devoured by this?
And then God speaks. He speaks in that still soft voice that is barely discernable to us as humans. He says "I'm here." "My grace is sufficient for you." And I know. I know that I cannot do this alone. I cannot hide from sorrow beneath a load of busy activities. Not now and not ever. I am weak. I need help. I need God's grace.
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you,
for my power is made perfect in weakness."
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.