A Time to Weep

I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. — Psalm 6:6

I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. — Romans 9:2

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . a time for war and a time for peace. — Ecclesiastes 3:1-4, 8

I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. — Jeremiah 31:13

My husband and I saw the movie “Marley and Me” the other day. It’s the story of a family, centered around their dog. So you can guess the beginning of the story—they get the dog. And no doubt you can guess the end of the story. What counted was everything in the middle. Anyway, I couldn’t quit crying. It wasn’t the hard boo-hoo sobs that wrack your body, but the tears that start rolling down your face and just won’t quit—no matter what you tell yourself in the darkness of the movie theater.

It’s been two years since my husband returned from his second deployment. Or as we say—eighteen months since he mentally got back. Fifteen of those months were spent with many personnel pressures compounded by under-manning due to ongoing deployments. It was tough (understatement).

So, what did all that have to do with the movie? It dawned on me that so often in the military we don’t take the necessary time to grieve. We live intensely; we adapt quickly; we check off the blocks. Move to Ft. Riley, know anyone there? Know the housing. How about schools? Paint inside or not? Send husband to war. Pray he comes home. Cry with friend whose husband didn’t. Help her move. Get orders. Move again.

But grief is not something to be “done,” check the block, it’s over, move on. It’s something to be lived through. It can surprise us at the most unexpected times. Hence, the everlasting tears at a movie.

My doctor is in the next town over. She told me the other day, “Everyone near the Fort is so ANGRY!”  I said, “Everyone is grieving.”  I wonder if we all realized that about one another . . . might we be kinder?

So the movie came after four and a half years of . . . what do we call it? Traumatic life-changing events, or just life? It’s been longer than this if you count my beloved grandmother’s death a couple of months before moving. Then my husband deployed thirty-seven days after arriving here. It has taken until now, after all of my close friends have moved, to begin processing the profound changes of the last four years.

Where was God? Right here with us, in the thick of it!! War and its consequences make Him sad, too. So, to be honest, I must remember babies born, old friends reconnected, babysitters and friends who came out of nowhere and saved the day . . . the ways in which God provides at every moment and through every pain.

A great Bible verse for deployment says just that, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (Isaiah 43:2,3) Another great chapter of promise to cling to during war times is Psalm 139, “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there (military in the air?); if I make my bed in the depths, you are there (military at sea?). If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea (military on land?), even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.”

But here’s the deal—it’s okay to grieve. It’s not doubting God to tell Him how hard it is to let go. Sometimes we just need permission. God Himself became a man, and He wept at least twice as referred to in John 11:35 and Luke 19:41.

Do we take the time to look for the miraculous things that God does in our lives every day—when His presence is made known if only we have eyes to see and ears to hear? Perhaps just getting through another day is miraculous. One thing is sure, just like in the movie—all this stuff in the middle? It counts. One day we will be with Him and know no more sorrow. I like the promise from Isaiah 60:19,20: “The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the LORD will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more; the LORD will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end.”

Until then, it’s okay to grieve.

“I’m trading my sorrow. . . . I’m trading my pain. . . . I’m laying them down for the joy of the Lord.”  Darrell Evans, “Trading My Sorrow”

Questions to Share:

1. What helps during the times that you are grieving over some losses?
2. Pray this prayer: Lord, may I come to the place where I can see what Paul saw and said, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation (not even deployments and war), will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” — Romans 8:38,39