The day before had been rough, and when I came into work the next morning, I was talking with a colleague about how tired I had been. He commiserated with me, saying he’d felt the same and had gone home the night before and debriefed with his wife.
That’s when he said it, and I know he wasn’t thinking.
“I actually thought about you,” he said, “I have my wife to talk things over with, but who do you go home to?”
I’m not sure what I did in response…it’s kind of a blur right now, but I know I didn’t give the answer I wanted to. If I’d been quick and not in shock, I would have said:
“I go home to Jesus.”
Instead, I think I did more of a mumble and moved on to my office, feeling the sting of grief and of regret for not speaking up for my Lord.
I find that’s what grief can do — throw you off balance. I can sit here now and type out a flowing blog of nice words, but in the moment, I have nothing. There are no words. I think that’s what gets me mad about this grief journey — the way it sneaks up on me. As much as I think I’m doing well and coping by his grace, it just never ceases to amaze me how I can have the wind knocked out of me so quickly.
There’s not much more I can say about that, except to say that if you’re going through it too, you’ve got company. Not just me, but Jesus. I know he knows and understands. As much as I regretted not having a quick answer, I was so thankful that I did have the answer. Jesus is really with me. I’m not alone. If you know him, he’s right there with you too.
So, the next time we’re ready. Who do you go home to?
Grace and Peace