​

At a Loss

                                           

 

I wonder if at a loss, everyone feels at a loss.  War, famine, disease, natural disasters. In the midst of widespread tragedy do the afflicted get accustomed to the shock of loss, or does each new loss begin with a moment of disbelief, in which the heart cries “no”, and the echo carries on in a freshly formed canyon of the heart. 

 

Loss at any level is hard.  The greater the love, the dream, the hope, the joy...the  greater the loss. Loss begs a thousand questions, which for the most part we know cannot be explained.  No matter how we analyze or wrap it in theology, loss cannot be reduced.    

 

Even on a smaller scale loss is inconvenient and disappointing.  On a recent vacation, the loss of a well planned day sent me reeling.  Timing, weather, and attitudes were all good. What could go wrong walking between the beach and the tennis courts?  Nothing, but a minor accident resulting in a knot on a forehead. An afternoon of tennis turned into an afternoon on the couch with an ice-pack.  It was a minor glitch, but I still encountered one of those “this cannot be happening” moments as my mind took into account not only the incident at hand, but also the potential repercussions.  

 

On a much larger scale was the disappointment that my father, who planned and paid for much of the vacation, was not with us.  What could go wrong between the booking of the trip and the actual enjoyment of it? We certainly had not foreseen pancreatic cancer standing in the way of my dad being present.  And while I know Heaven is far more enjoyable than our vacation in it’s best moments, I still miss my dad and it still seems surreal that I will never watch another sunset over the ocean with him.

 

Loss for the most part, is not something we anticipate, but even when do there is an element of disbelief that comes as we are forced to accept what we would change if we could.  For me, the loss of a dream to adopt is on the horizon. As we pass the two year mark in our wait I am beginning to realize it might not happen. I know that expectations play a part in how I walk this road, and that whatever happens I must accept it.  Still, closing the door on adoption is a bigger disappointment for me than going out for ice-cream and realizing they are out of the flavor I had hoped for.

 

Loss, no matter how you slice it, is painful.  There is pain when what we love, hope, dream etc. is cut from our reality.  We can attempt to ease it, to analyze it, compartmentalize it, refigure it...but in the end, it is still loss.  This is not to say our moments of disbelief will always cause us to gasp in the same way, or that the felt weight of loss cannot be lightened with a measure of joy to offset the load.  Joy and pain coexist, and focusing on that which can never be lost in Christ, is key to steady us, particularly in the wake of loss upon loss. We may always feel at a loss, in a loss. The key is not to reduce loss, but to increase the magnitude of comfort we experience in the midst of it.  The more anguished the “No”, the more powerful the “Yes” in response from above, as we ask “Heavenly Father, are you here?” Loss forms a canyon in our hearts, or perhaps it simply makes us aware of the canyons that were already there. The emptiness is meant to be filled with God Himself. And while I would not wish loss upon anyone, I would wish upon many the gain that can be received, as God fills the deepest fears and longings of the heart with His presence.  Make even the small losses count, and in great loss know that the deeper the canyon, the greater the filling.  

 

“fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  Isaiah 41:10 (ESV)

​

​