Choosing to Mourn
My Journey Into Hope
I dreaded the suddenness of the trauma, the dream I couldn’t wake up from—it was a day of mourning. My body, mind, soul, and heart were conflicted and torn. Yet, there was no physical evidence of the depth of hurt inside. It was as if a mirror had shattered in my heart. To mourn is to lament and wail, and my mourning was a process of trying to remove the awful sense of loss like broken glass in my heart. If I didn’t remove the shattered mirror, which once reflected her love back to me, I knew my mourning would become grief. If I allowed grief to take control, my sorrow would never end. Mourning will, in time, diminish as the shards of glass are removed; it’s a natural process that will heal the heart over time. But, grief will interrupt that process or even stop it.
Not knowing what I was setting into motion—regarding the healing of my heart—I responded to the Holy Spirit’s invitation to trust Him in the process. My answer was a simple, “Yes.” But the process was filled with wails, weeping, and agony. I lived in the darkness of despair for three days. I fed the dog, fed myself, slept, and sat in a chair. I beat my soul as I chose to mourn rather than grieve. I realized the road of grief would loop back time and time again like a film that never ends. Grief seeks to resolve what is unchangeable, rather than pick up the shards of the broken mirror, heal, and move on with the rest of life. Grieving gratifies the flesh, by blaming someone else for the pain; all the while, the source of the hurt is untouched.
Mourning lances the wound and lets it drain, so His comfort can restore the wounded heart and make it whole again. You can’t blame God, nor can you blame yourself. You surely can’t blame the one who died. I accepted this great tragedy for what it was—the end of her life. It took courage to step through that door into the unknown without her. I struggled with the dark places, and the doubts did come about in those days; however, the evidence of where I’d been was the substance for hope. And, it was hope that led me to trust Him.
After days in battle with fear and doubt, I set a resolve to mourn, to allow God to comfort me, and not to grieve.
About the author
Charles Cash was born in 1952 and now lives on the farm he grew up on in North Carolina. He is a retired computer programmer who has also been a carpenter’s helper, farmer, soldier, helicopter mechanic, veteran of war, clerk, student, ditch digger, factory worker, licensed aircraft mechanic, actor, pilot, vinedresser, winemaker, church elder, intercessor, and now a writer. Charles attributes his greatest accomplishments to applying God’s prescriptions for life.
Charles and his wife, Judy, were married for forty-three years. They have two sons, both married, and three grandchildren. Judy passed away from cancer in 2018. Charles says, “Of all the good I’ve ever done—caring for Judy as she transitioned from this world to God’s was the pinnacle of it all.”
All of us stumble or fall at some time. The tragedy of life is when you don’t get up.
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