the painful process of acceptance...

Acceptance is an excruciatingly painful process. One which I still feel a million miles from at times but I think Amy Carmichael was right when she said that 'peace lies in acceptance.' I know this does not mean that I will ever forget. I do not ever want to and quite simply, I know I never could, it was that special. But I suppose the alternative of moving towards acceptance is to remain in denial and that would mean, you never get healed and therefore I know baby steps towards acceptance are important. The phrase 'easier said than done' however, takes on a whole deeper meaning.

Something I am learning about grief (and maybe this applies to other forms of suffering, I am not sure) is that you cannot rush your healing in any way. You cannot squeeze your healing into few times of prayer or to a response to an 'altar-call,' nor probably would you want to. It is hard for others to understand this, who with the best intentions want to see you healed, but it is simply not possible. These kind of things are definitely part of the healing process and from time to time we may need a gentle push forward but I am becoming more convinced that one must be to true to what one is feeling and expereincing at whatever place of the process one is in. While people's prayers are invaluable and keep you alive at times like these there is something about the depth of this kind of pain that you can only get yourself out of.

I read Pete's (Greig) book, God on Mute, mainly because knowing Pete a little I knew it would be honest and real yet longing to know God in the midst of our unanswered questions. That's exactly what it was (and a lot more).

One bit of the book that has stayed with me most is a little section about 'rushing the resurection.' Pete points out that God left a whole day (inbetween Friday and resurection Sunday) for silence, for questions, for doubt, for darkness and therefore as we go through pain and struggle of horrendous proportions that we too may have that experience of that awful Saturday where heaven appears silent. Where Sunday seems distant and like the followers of Jesus mabye not even see it coming. Thank-God for us (who know how the story unfolded), even if we don't see Sunday in the midst of our pain, we know that it is there somewhere. But does it say not say something about the shallowness of our faith if we can't have a period were we sit in the questions and disappointment? To move on without having been true to these feeings would seem unnatural, false and in some ways almost lacking in integrity.

However I know this must balanced with a steely determination to choose to believe things at times, even when you don't want to. There is a ruthlessness to getting to acceptance that at times seems cruel in the extreme - trying to not allow your mind and emotions to go places that will bring you back into denial.

It is a diffcult balance to find - living and being inspired by the memories and yet trying not to remain in the past (a gloriously, wondeful past). I am still somewhere in Saturday, but trying to fix my eyes toward Sunday and moving slowly and painfully towards acceptance and.....

resurrection.