Jessica touches base with Sara’s sister, Laura, twice a day. Pray for Laura. This afternoon she told Jess that it was really difficult seeing her little sister so still, quiet.
Please continue to pray or send your thoughts to all of Sara’s family. Loosing Sara is hitting them hard, and in different ways…
Much like it’s hitting her friends, those who read her blog, and anybody who’s gotten to know her in this last week.
That’s what’s so unique about Sara: Even if you only had one brief conversation with her on Twitter or over Skype/phone, you immediately feel a deep connection to her. I think that’s why there’s been such a deep, wide response to her leaving us soon. Sara’s spirit was one that made you feel like you were close, connected at hello.
That’s a quality that all of us are going to miss when she’s gone, many are going to have heart voids that we won’t know how to fill.
Can I be honest? Last week was hell. It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced a deep sadness like this. There were moments last week when I mourned so deeply that I felt like I lost control of my being for a time.
Mourning drains our spirits like nothing else can.
Last week, Jessica and I spent Tuesday evening, Wednesday, and Thursday either crying or on the verge of crying.
Both of us were sad on Friday, but too exhausted to show it.
By Saturday, we were sad, exhausted, and sick of seeing each other be sad and tired. Not a pretty combination. We went out on a date Saturday night. We ate at Maggianos and then went to see Nashville’s Shakespeare in the Park’s “Romeo & Juliet”. The play was so bad that we left early and went to Target. As we were pulling into Target’s parking lot, we exchanged words or looks or something that didn’t sit well with each other. As we walked toward Target’s front door, we argued with each other in whispers. Then, as soon as the doors slid open, our whispers turned into silent intentional shopping (in different departments). We finished shopping, loaded the bags into our car, and as soon as I turned the car on, we started arguing again.
And then since we had a babysitter, we sat in our condo’s parking lot and argued some more before walking into the house.
Both of us had reasons to be frustrated and angry. But mostly we were just tired. And sad. Deeply sad.
But we’d run out of tears. And fighting seemed like a good substitute. And it was. And still it wasn’t.
And the worst part is that we weren’t home when we argued, so no cleaning got done. Nothing gets me motivated to scrub a toilet like a lovers quarrel.
By bedtime, we kissed, made up. Apologized. Cried some more.
This morning I woke up numb. My soul knows there’s something happening but it’s having a hard time feeling what’s happening. And I want to feel this.
I must feel this. Those of us who know and love Sara must mourn this completely.
Oh, I’ll be thrilled for Sara. No pain. No shots. No drugs. No questions.
But for us. We must mourn when it’s time to mourn. That’s one thing I feel like many of us who are Christians don’t know how to do: We don’t know how to mourn. We fear being sad. Deeply sad. We too often and too quickly jump to a rejoicing and celebrating and we don’t let our wounds open wide enough for grace and hope to seep inside…
And we all mourn in different ways and at different paces. And we can’t rush our soul’s ache. And we can’t rush another soul’s ache.
So when the time comes, mourn deeply. Choose to mourn deeply.
Because before we can choose joy, and Sara desires for us to choose joy, we must choose to mourn. We must choose to weep. We must choose to heal.
When it’s time. When our souls become filled up again, mostly whole again.
Joy becomes a choice.
And we will be healthy enough…
to choose it.