Grief 5: Peace

 As soon as I lie down, I fall peacefully asleep, for you alone, O LORD, bring security to my dwelling.

Psalm 4 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps it is the glorious sunshine, or the warmth in the air. Perhaps it is my beautiful daffodils—or the music of Easter—but today is a joyful one. OR maybe the privilege of being a Eucharistic minister today.

My last counseling session was simple and good. I think I've come to terms with the nature of grief.  It isn't collapsing in pain or uncontrollable tears. There is some sadness, yes, but not a debilitating amount. Regret? Not over my marriage, but I'm letting go of some over parenthood.

 

My grief is more general malaise and weariness as I adjust to new realities and expectations. It is an inability to imagine the future, which is undoubtedly a good thing. It is work, but it is manageable and it will pass. For now—one day at a time, one step at a time.

 

And I'm remembering His "word is a lamp unto my feet."

Corpus Christi

When Christ came as high priest of the good things that have come to be,

passing through the greater and more perfect tabernacle

not made by hands, that is, not belonging to this creation,

he entered once for all into the sanctuary

Hebrews 9:11

Once for all. The great mystery of the Mass is that every time—every time—we stand at the foot of the cross and enter into the passion. Does it mean it occurs over and over? No! God's time isn't our time. We enter into the saving act which occurred once for all and the "greater and more perfect tabernacle," as opposed to the Holy of Holies in the massive temple in Jerusalem.I think I'll just let that one settle in for a while and see how much of it I can fully grasp.