Austin's Blog

We spent last week at the beach, which was a sweet respite. While being in a different location can remove a lot of the triggers for grief, we found that grief came with us. You take your sorrow wherever you go. When you lose your child, even the good and fun things moving forward are soaked with sadness. There’s a taint or a tinge of sorrow in it. Something is off, something is missing. Every laugh and smile comes through a sigh or a groan. You constantly think, “He would’ve loved this” or “He should be here.” Every little kid his age reminded us of him. I could imagine him truly loving and enjoying the beach. He certainly loved the beach the week before he passed on our family cruise to the Bahamas.

I spent a lot of time thinking about grief and the waves. Waves are such an apt metaphor for grief. At the very beginning of grief when you first lose someone, the waves feel and appear insurmountable. The wreckage of your life is floating around the sea and you are grasping for anything to keep you afloat. The goal is survival—not allowing the waves to cause you to go under as well. Once you have made it through that initial, hellish period, you’re still in the ocean but the waves may be somewhat less insurmountable. They’re only seventy-five feet rather than a hundred feet high. Yet, they come and go. There is no escape. There is no running away from them and they shouldn’t be ignored. Adriel Booker writes, “They say that grief comes in waves. And it’s true. The emotion comes and goes, comes and goes, comes and goes. They also say that you should never turn your back on the ocean; waves can come strong – catching you off guard – and hit you harder than you were prepared for. The waves of grief are no different. You might understand intellectually that they will keep coming, but some days they hit more forcefully, more fiercely than you ever imagined possible. And just when you thought you might be able to predict the next set, a rogue wave comes rushing in, undermining your balance and sweeping your feet out from under you.”

I noticed at the beach that some days there were almost no waves and the water was quite calm but then the next day had waves that literally crashed upon people and sand, causing red flags to fly high. Some days the waves of grief are high and dangerous and quickly erode a sense of safety, peace, and happiness. We woke up one morning after a storm and a night of rough waters to see that the water had claimed almost twenty feet of ground! How do you counteract and make it through the waves? You simply keep swimming. You go wherever the waves take you (within reason, of course). You exercise wisdom and refuse to go too deep into areas where you cannot swim back. You rely on other swimmers to help you to know how best to swim. There’s no pretending the waves aren’t there. There’s no amount of positive thinking or self-help that can remove them. There’s no building a sand castle along the shore that will last. “Grief will come in waves. When it comes, go with it. You will get through grief by grieving.”

A comforting thought that comes to mind is this—I know the one who controls the wind and the waves.

• Psalm 46:1-3, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.”
• Psalm 89:9, “You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them.”
• Psalm 93:4, “Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the Lord on high is mighty!”
• Psalm 107:29, “He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.”

The disciples asked of Jesus after he calmed the storm, “Who is this that even the wind and the waves obey Him?” These waves ultimately won’t cause us to sink to the bottom of the sea because He controls the wind and the waves. If He can handle those, he can certainly handle the waves of grief we are riding.