Grief

I need to tell you something. I am afraid of my grief. It lurks deep within me behind a door that I don't know what to do with.

You see, I have no idea what's behind that door. My imagination whispers to me that it must be a portal to a hell that I would never want to explore. Common sense tells me that I need to march right on in there and deal with it, head-on. Popular culture is an enabler and tells me to own the door and carry it around with me as a constant reminder of the tragedy that is a part of my life.

I've walked with the Father closely enough to know that I can dismiss these voices. He takes me by the hand and tells me that I don't have to go in there without Him.