I've never been very good with grief, though I doubt anyone sits around talking about how good they are with it. And there has been entirely too much of that particular emotion this week. For as much as I like to talk, I'm not very good at being open with my emotions. I never really have been. Part of it comes from being of stoic, German stock, I think. Neither side of my family is all "let's talk about our feelings." The other part is that it just takes me a long time to process my thoughts. I tend to disconnect in public, and do all of my thinking at home later or one-on-one with people. Being disconnected actually helps sometimes, particularly when you are singing at a funeral for someone you love. But in the aftermath, when that's over, I still have trouble feeling out loud. My fear is always that if I don't cry at those sorts of things, it won't seem like I'm sad. And that couldn't be farther from the truth.
The truth is that I am not good in those situations. I never know what to say, so I try to opt for silence rather than saying something completely ignorant or inadequate. But don't take that silence as indifference. Trust me, I'm a lot of things but rarely indifferent. It's just that I just don't ever want to make someone else's suffering worse. And I don't always know how to help make it better right away.
There are a lot of things I know I will never understand, things that Jesus is going to have to explain to me when I get there. It seems like that list keeps getting longer and longer these days. And it's hard to keep the first feelings from being anger, because that is my go-to emotion. It's hard to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs, "THIS SUCKS! How could You allow this!" It's hard to remember that there is a divine purpose, because that just seems cruel. Sometimes there aren't enough words to express how sorry you are. Sometimes, there just aren't enough tears to do justice.