If you follow me over here or if you’ve been around 80FT awhile, you know that last week was a heavy one.
We started the week with August 10th, our Pray Day for Danny and ended with the ninth anniversary of Danny’s accident, August 16th.
Grief is a like a spider’s web. You don’t always see it coming, but suddenly you walk through it; strands of fine, sticky thread crawling across your face, as tears begin to crawl down your cheeks. You can’t see the grief, it’s threads stuck to you and though you swing wildly and pull at it’s invisible force, you’re already wrapped and never feel quite clear of it.
At least, it’s that way with brain injury.
Brain injury is a death, a death without closure. It’s a daily reminder that parts of your loved one, your dreams, your hopes, your future, your security; they’ve died. It’s in your face like a crazed fan upset with the referee’s call; the touchdown of your life is suddenly ruled a fumble.
And, we fumble through the operational aspects of life and we check the boxes on our to-do list, but life feels like a great big, fumble.
The clock has seemingly run down and you’re forever stuck in the stadium of loss. The fans and your teammates, once cheering you on and doing life with you, are suddenly filing out of the stands. The janitors are sweeping up the trash, and taking your dreams along with them.
Everyone else lives on and moves on outside of your stadium of loss, your dome of grief.
And, as the lights click off, you remain on the field wishing for one more quarter.
We are stuck in a perpetual state and cycle of grief, seemingly unable to live on with brain injury shackled to our ankles.
Perhaps you think time makes it easier. Perhaps you think we should accept it and move on. Perhaps you think we stop therapy or believing in something more.
Perhaps you think we should let go of hope.
I say no.
We have another quarter. We have another better chapter waiting.
So we pull off the threads of grief that tie us down. We take captive the dreams we once had and place them in the hands of the Father who can do more than we ask and more than we can imagine.
We treat this day as sacred and we celebrate Christ’s power and not our pain.
As we enter into our 10th year, we honor this anniversary as a sacred moment spilled opened for the glory of God to be revealed through our brokenness. We continue to walk in trust and cling to Truth. We wait, somewhat patiently, for the Lord and rest in the love and faithfulness He has poured out.
But, we also invite you back into our stadium of loss, to help us create an arena of life. We invite you to be our defensive line in prayer and in deed, to give us rest when we are weary. We ask you to help us back up to our feet if we’ve been sacked with circumstances again. We need teammates and fans alike. We need your encouragement, your signs of 80Ft, and your pleas for just a bit more time on the clock.
Because we’re not done yet. The buzzer had not sounded. Our gloves are on and we’re gripping tightly to our marriage, to our home, and to our ministry. We don’t want to fumble.
Through Christ’s suffering on the Cross, and through Christ only, can we defeat our enemy.
We need our team. We need our fans. Will you join us?
Will you be In On 10- on the 10th of each month, and in this 10th year of recovery.
Meanwhile, the Eternal One yearns to give you grace and boundless compassion;
that’s why He waits.
For the Eternal is a God of justice.
Those inclined toward Him, waiting for His help, will find happiness.
Isaiah 30:18 (The Voice)