broken.

I don't know how to do this whole grief thing. [I guess no one really does]

I've never done it before [thankfully]. In 25 years, this is the biggest shock and the deepest ache I've ever felt.

I know plenty of people who have been through something like this or something even worse. Injury, illness, loss. Losing a friend...it feels like there's an empty space in my life now. Like I've lost all sense of normalcy. Because I saw her almost every day. Because she was a security blanket. A support system. A wealth of knowledge about Italian language and culture. An encouraging word. A funny story. A YouTube video. A laugh.

But I know that my pain is nothing compared to those even closer to her. The ones who call her "wife," "mommy," "daughter," "sister," "lifelong friend."

And I know everyone has their own scars. Their own aches. The interesting thing about pain is that it doesn't truly touch you until it's your own. You can feel pity and sympathy for a sad story you hear on the news or something that happened to a friend of a friend. But until your own heart really gets involved...you're just a spectator.

But how do we, who are truly living it, live through it?

Anyone who knows me very well at all knows that So You Think You Can Dance is pretty much my favorite show. I love dance in general because often it allows you to express something you can't quite get across with words alone. And it's cathartic. A release. 

So I've been thinking about this piece from last season:

We're all a little bit broken, aren't we? Whether it's a breakup or a death, a sprained ankle or loss of limb...no one goes through life unscathed...undamaged. 

And there's just so much evil in the world. I heard yesterday about the reporter and cameraman from my area who were shot and killed live on air during the local news. On top of that, I've been dealing with the emotional repercussions of being involved in a human trafficking ministry. I promise to write a whole post about it all someday because a few sentences just don't do it justice...but the reality is that most of the people we talk to every week are transgendered individuals. Female on top, male on bottom. Playing with themselves to entice customers driving by. [Sorry if this shocks you, but this industry, unfortunately, exists and is alive and well]. And they tell us about how they get drunk and high just to be able to do this on a nightly basis.

And that's all really depressing.

And if I believed that this life was all there was (these 90 or so years...or for Kyra, 30...or for others, even less), it would all seem rather hopeless.

But.

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." -Hebrews 6:19

Hope keeps me from despair [the "depths of despair," as Anne Shirley would say].

And I cling to this promise [one God literally opened my Bible to yesterday morning]:

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

He determines the number or stars and calls them each by name.

Great is our Lord and mighty in power;

His understanding has no limit." -Psalm 147:3-5

I'm human, so I'm hurting. But I have hope in something higher than this world, so I still have joy in the midst of pain.

As Rend Collective so perfectly puts it:

The pain will not define us
Joy will reignite us
You're the song
You're the song
Of our hearts

The dark is just a canvas
For Your grace and brightness
You're the song
You're the song
Of our hearts

We're dancing to the rhythm of Your heart
We're rising from the ashes to the stars

You're the joy joy joy lighting my soul
The joy joy joy making me whole
Though I'm broken, I am running
Into Your arms of love

So we are not broken beyond repair. We are not doomed to an existence of emptiness and sadness and hopelessness. But only if our hope is in Christ.

"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body." -Philippians 3:20-21

So I will celebrate in the downpour. I will dance in the rain. I will try to go on without Kyra's constant affirming words. I can still treasure up all the things that I learned from her [and oh...they were many]. From how to make pasta all'amatriciana to how to love people by practicing hospitality, she taught me so much. And I will try to do the things she encouraged me to do...the things she knew I was passionate about and prayed that I would have opportunities to do...even things as simple and mundane as Zumba and art. She was also the first person to encourage me to think about staying in Italy...who made me feel like I could do this long-term. 

And reflecting on those things does make me zone out again...I feel myself getting distant and sad even in crowds of people laughing and talking...when it hits me again with surprising force that it's true...she's gone.

But that's just the reality. I hurt because I'm only human. But I'm not smashed to smithereens because I'm setting my heart and mind on things above [Colossians 3].

Another thing I've been thinking about is Ireland. I just got back from spending a few days there catching up with some beautiful people and hearing what God is doing in their lives. And I was thinking on the three hour bus ride to and from the airport as I took in the most vibrantly green hillsides and the sun shining through the cloud-dappled sky...it rains a lot in Ireland. And that can be sad and gray and depressing. But oh. When the sun comes out...you see the effect of the rain: the incomparably lush, green landscape. And it is absolutely marvelous.

So I'll close with this "Song for the Suffering" for all you other broken people out there [please please please watch this]:

"On this mountain you will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth." Isaiah 25:7-8