The Heart That Bleeds

There are a handful of people around me that will not be having a very great Valentine’s Day this year.  The list seems to grow.  Those of us who have experienced loss have a hard time facing holidays.  Valentine’s Day is an especially hard day for those who have lost spouses.  It is an “in-your-face” moment that takes the rather regular pain of loss one feels in an ordinary day and amplifies it a hundred fold.  While cards and flowers fly through the world around you, there might be only the memory of a faded flower in yours. Grief does that.  The taste, smell, and colors of life seem to all fade.  There isn’t a bright vibrancy to anything when grief is clouding over you.  Instead, things are stale, only tasteless reminders of what once was.  Life is hollow. You might feel like a walking shell, a zombie both in the day and the night.  You might be experiencing tremendous pain; a stake of hurt and shock driving through the only heart you have, bleeding.

            In this world of loss, where grief takes over and threatens the very essence of every holiday, I once wished holidays did not exist.  I once felt that the absence of special days would make things easier, turning every day into ordinary ones, days that I could manage easier, days that didn’t spike the emotions I so desperately wanted to hide from.  The same thing would happen each time.  A cycle of anxious apprehension would alarm me as to the advent of a special day.  I would fear the moment of living the day without the one that I had lost. It would force me to think of my loss extra heavy, compounding it.  I would ruminate on the memories, hard ones, ones I couldn’t process, mixing an ulcer forming concoction together in my gut.  Pain would build, as the day approached, making me angry, sad, blue, confused.  The holiday itself would climax in tremendous hurt and gloom.  Then, almost like a receding tide or undertow, my emotions would magically sweep back out from wherever they came from, fix themselves, and I would feel better almost as quickly as Walmart could switch their shelving to the next holiday buys overnight.  It was a vicious cycle, one that even though I knew would come with each calendar turn, I felt defenseless and vulnerable against.  

            There were things that I did to try to relieve the pain.  One thing that I did to try to help things (it may or may not help you) was to stand tall to embrace my feelings instead of running from them.  I remember that my first Valentine’s Day after my late wife passed, I figured it was going to be terribly difficult for me, so I decided to do what she always did.   Almost like a normal year, I carried on a tradition just like she would have, and it helped.  I gave my best attempt at making her angel food cake with pink marshmallow icing, just like she would do for our special day together.  It wasn’t quite as good, but it gave the remaining pirate men in her life something to do with ourselves to get through the hard day.  

            Grief stinks.  There is no other way to put it.

            I really would like to help those of you out there that are hurting this year.  One thing I want to write to you, to those who are suffering without answers this Valentine’s Day, is that if you let Him, Christ will hold you in your pain. It might sound trite… especially if you have never given Him the chance before, but I promise you that He does not disappoint, in His way, in His time.  I know so many nights I spent crying myself to sleep were spent crying myself to sleep in Christ’s embrace.  It makes a big difference to have someone hold you when there are no explanations, answers, or clues to the mystery of why things happened the way they did.  I have a few verses that come to mind for those of you hanging on by a thread this year.  This is a very special verse I hold close to my heart.

Psalm 34:17-18

When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears

and delivers them out of all their troubles.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted

and saves the crushed in spirit.

            In my darkest nights the Word of God shown brighter and brighter.  I read through the Psalms over and over, as the emotions I felt were already written for my eyes to see.  Someone else had felt the same way.  Someone else knew my pain, my sorrow.  God had inspired other men to pen the words that would help me centuries later.  He knew what I would need.  God knew the pain I felt even better than I could express it myself.  I often held my Bible to my chest as I fell asleep.  

Psalm 147:3

He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

            My challenge today is one that might not be taken serious by many, though its effectiveness is proven time and time again. When we grieve and feel pain, we usually retreat into a dark corner of the world to hide.  It is the way our human nature drives us to cope. I want to encourage you to press into the Lord instead.  This might be the most difficult thing imaginable (especially if your grief has caused your heart to put blame or resentment on God’s Himself) but I desperately want to relieve the hurt inside you.  Plunging into the Lord, giving Him all your pain and sorrow, is the one and only thing I know to do that works. I challenge you instead of turning your back on the Lord this year in your pain, turn into His arms instead. Rather than retreating into an obscure corner of the planet, sink yourself into his embrace and just let Him wrap His loving arms around you.  He wants your burdens.  He wants to hold your pain.  His arms are strong enough to bear the weight you feel.  His heart pumps for you.  Let Him hold your heart this Valentine’s Day.

After all, His heart bleeds for you.

By Chuck Carr