thinking grief

It’s been awhile. I’m a little empty. Or running on empty. I believe it is part of grief. Besides the obvious grief over my grandma passing, I had to stop and think. What else am I grieving?

nearly half a year gone without so much as a sigh or mark to say “Hey I was here”

my grandparent’s home soon to be part of someone else’s family

the school year ending (which is also a bit of a praise…)

days that were somewhat free-form being squeezed into the boxes of a calendar

true bits of people’s hearts spilled out in raw, glaring colors of hate and hurt

even parts of myself I want “cured” or “healed” leaving me–going down the road of healing (for I know those bad parts better than the new ones)

books partly read being returned to the library

There are small moments each day that contain grief. And more times than not I am saying “Good grief!”. Yet what I mean has nothing to do with goodness or the helpful process of grieving.

I think it would do my heart good to hear the men of Cornerstone Baptist Church sing My Anchor Holds. (This was the closest I could come to my memory of hearing those men sing this hymn. I don’t know the group in the video link, but it was great to close my eyes and hear words my heart longs to speak as truth.)

Take a minute and read the words and dare to say that your heart is not warmed and uplifted.

My Anchor Holds

William C. Martin, 1902

Though the angry surges roll
On my tempest-driven soul,
I am peaceful, for I know,
Wildly though the winds may blow,
I’ve an anchor safe and sure,
That can evermore endure.

And it holds, my anchor holds:
Blow your wildest, then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail;
By His grace I shall not fail,
For my anchor holds, my anchor holds.

Mighty tides about me sweep,
Perils lurk within the deep,
Angry clouds o’ershade the sky,
And the tempest rises high;
Still I stand the tempest’s shock,
For my anchor grips the rock.

I can feel the anchor fast
As I meet each sudden blast,
And the cable, though unseen,
Bears the heavy strain between;
Through the storm I safely ride,
Till the turning of the tide.

Troubles almost ’whelm the soul;
Griefs like billows o’er me roll;
Tempters seek to lure astray;
Storms obscure the light of day:
But in Christ I can be bold,
I’ve an anchor that shall hold.


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