Loss, in any capacity, is something that deeply wrenches the heart. And, the heart is a curious thing, as we entrust our lives into something so unsteady, and so impacted by deep feeling. And we love this feeling; we love the emotion followed by a dream or the butterflies accompanied with a significant other. These emotions allow us to take flight, to envision what beautiful worlds our futures may hold. But when these plans and dreams and people are shattered, we are left without the clarity we crave, and with "what if's" scattered throughout. A lyric from "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats reads, "I love this feeling / But I hate this part / I wanted this to work so much / I drew up our plans on a chart." We love the feeling and the emotion behind our work but are wrenched when the plans fail us.

And we are angered. We are hurt, confused, and lost in the cavity of what once was. We wonder how our lovely plans could be disintegrated in a matter of minutes. The habits that were formed before such loss were so normalized to us, that when these structures are shattered, we are left with unsteady footing. We are left with the feeling of falling.

We must start over again. Grieve, analyze, and allow this pain to take its course. This restructuring is a painful process, as we start from the ground-up, yet again. We wonder how we can ever get it right, why the giants continue to topple us down.

It is within this painful process of regrowth where I have realized that I will never know exactly what is best for myself. Because God's vast, beautiful, and continual goodness will always carry my heart and my desires deep within His own. I am reminded of John 3:30, "He must become greater; I must become less."

What a humbling experience it is to realize how little I know. My little heart yearns for what is wordly, for what He knows is not best for me. And it hurts, it hurts because I am a stubborn child, who must trust that my Father can see further and know more deeply than I ever could. And yes, part of me ends up so frustrated, so angered, and so hurt.

But He is a protective Father, one who is very jealous over me (Deuteronomy 4:24). I see these shattered plans as protection, shielding me from further hurt in the future.

But God is a beautiful Father. I have realized where I tried so desperately to fill myself up, I allowed the other parts of my heart and my life to fade. Because, as mentioned, we can become blind to what we are truly in need of. Our hearts yearn for affection, yearn for what we believe will fill us up again. But God works in our brokenness so miraculously. As the lyrics of "Desert Song" go, "I know I'm filled to be emptied again." Life is cyclical, filling and emptying with each season.

For myself, I tried, and do try, so desperately to find love. But in my tireless pursuit of romance, I have fallen short of deepening relationships with those around me, with hallmates, with my roommate, with my own parents. But within loss, I have found so much fulfillment in these friendships around me. Because they provide something so different, something so outside just romance. Through these friendships and through community, God allows Himself to speak, and to be known. He finds His children in their heartbreak, and so gently allows them to see what they have been missing all along. He softly calls us back to His heart, back to where we will be cared for and loved beyond belief. And though it hurts now, when we look back, we realize the innate goodness of such a good Father.

You will make it through. As cheesy, as cliche as it sounds, you will. Growing and abiding do not come with ease, but what beauty springs forth in the process.


But he knows the way that I take;

when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold.

Job 23:10