The Changing Waves of Grief
June 7, 2023 — Laura House
Today, Gary and I had an opportunity to spend a day at a beach. The beach is our favorite place in the world – any beach. As I sat near the water’s edge watching mothers and fathers playing with their children in the waves, I began to reminisce.
The beach has also been the favorite spot for all three of my children, even into their adulthood. As kids, they loved jumping the waves with Gary and riding in our inflatable boat, pretending they were castaways like on Gilligan’s Island, and spent hours upon hours building sand castles.
As I watched similar antics with children at the beach today, their lives just looked so simple and joyful. Parents ran through the waves, dipping toddlers’ feet into the water producing shrieks of glee, flew kites, tossed Frisbees, and smiled at each other with satisfaction that their little family was enjoying the time together. I remember those days.
I watched a mom toting a baby, oohing and ahhing at shells discovered by a preschooler, and cheering for the elementary-aged child who was skimming the waves on a Boogie board — all at the same time. I remember those days too. I’d hit the ground running early in the morning and take care of needs all day long — homeschooling, chauffeuring, cooking, cleaning, mentoring…. I loved it all. If you are a mom, then you realize the many roles you play in the life of your children; teacher, mentor, encourager, nurse, friend, detective, spiritual mentor, comforter, guidance counselor, and more. Thinking back to those years, they were amazing, but oftentimes exhausting. Or so I thought.
If you’ve lost someone you love, then you know the true meaning of exhaustion. In the beginning, just putting one foot in front of the other is a success, and small victories like fixing lunch are the day’s goal. It’s like the incessant sound of the ocean waves of the Atlantic; there isn’t a moment that you can’t hear them crashing.
As you move down the road a bit, grief changes and the waves resemble Florida’s Gulf Coast, where the waves are smaller and further apart. They can still knock you down, but the water is clear and the waves more gentle.
Then down the road even further, grief is more like the water of a lake. Only when a storm hits do the waves appear, and even then, usually don’t completely overwhelm.
As I’ve been writing this, I’ve tried to figure out what is so comforting to me about being at the ocean. I believe it’s because when I’m here, I am in awe of the majesty of God. Watching the powerful waves, I am reminded that He is the Creator of all, and is in control. “Even the wind and waves obey Him!”(Matthew 8:27b) and that’s a feeling of security for me. Whether I’m in the middle of a wave of grief, or enjoying a time of peaceful tranquility, I’m never out of His care and protection.
Psalm 89:8-9 says, “Who is like you, LORD God Almighty? You, LORD, are mighty, and your faithfulness surrounds you. You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them.”
If the waves are crashing in on you today, remember that He is the One who can still them. You can trust Him.
