Tonight Brian called four completely separate-crowd friends to touch base briefly, and every single one of them is dealing directly with a dear friend or family member who has or is dying of or just died of cancer.
Grief hurts so much. And it seems like everywhere we turn, especially in the last hour, days, and weeks, people are mourning and grieving because of cancer.
Now here's a jump in my thoughts, kinda. It will be good for me to cry, to sob, about it all. Read what Margie Haack has to say about it in her blog, Toads Drink Coffee. Here's a snippet:
"I’m still slowly reading a book called The Enigma of Anger by Garret Keizer. ...A pastor friend, Steve F. from New York, sent me a few of his favorite quotes from the book.
"Here’s one that seemed significant and true to (me and Dennis), from our own and others’ lives we’ve observed:
“'Many of our angry outbursts are the result of grief that never comes to sobbing.' p.113
"As Steve says, 'What will bring our griefs to sobbing? Perhaps when those who have wept already will weep with us, a flow of grace washes away the anger. And having wept our griefs, perhaps we may have the joy of that grace flowing into the lives of others. "Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." (Isaiah 53:4)'"
I'm not sure I understand exactly what he's saying. See, sobbing--grieving for that matter-- is not my tendency. I'm a tough girl who rests wholly on the truth that God is soverign and that this world is for his glory and my good even if I can't see that in the moment. I'm a heavy thinker, reasoning my way out of emotion. I say, "That's funny," instead of laughing out loud.
But tonight I want to cry. I am angry that this world is so broken. Sounds like it's a good thing for me to grieve to sobbing that it's not supposed to be this way. Because it's damn sure not supposed to be this way.