Messy Business

When I was first diagnosed with diabetes, I read everything I could find about the disease ... you know, the whole knowledge is power thing, I suppose. At any rate, in the course of all that reading, I stumbled upon a transcript of an interview with Mary Tyler Moore, who has type 1 diabetes (which for those of you who aren't familiar with diabetes terms, that means that she must receive regular infusions of insulin). The whole interview was great, but her answer to the question from the interviewer asking what she missed the most from her life before diabetes stuck with me. Her response was a simple one, but one loaded with meaning and significance for all of us who live with diabetes ... "I miss being able to be completely spontaneous. I have to plan every moment of my day now ... I miss being spontaneous." Man ... I can so relate to her feelings ... I can so relate. While it's gotten easier to manage my blood sugar, I still have to plan out my days around meals and medication ... and I always will. I have to consider my blood sugar levels when I go for a walk or out to dinner or to speak. I have to carry snacks and glucose pills with me wherever I go. I have to remember to take my meds when I'm away from my normal routine. I, too, miss being spontaneous.

This morning, however, I made a spontaneous decision and attended another church ... a church where I'll be speaking for their women's group in a few weeks. I've spoken for many different groups and denominations over the last decade or so, but the church I attended today was a new one for me. Within a few minutes of entering the sanctuary, I knew that the service was going to be quite different from any I've attended before ... not in a bad way ... in fact, I was immediately struck by the level of participation from the congregation, from clapping as they sang to the way they shared in communion to the lighting of various candles around the room, and by the closeness and warmth that was so obvious during their time of greeting one another. But it was the visiting minister's sermon that impacted me the most ... a sermon that God most definitely meant for me to hear this morning.

The church has been through some tough times recently, including their two primary ministers leaving the church. It's never easy for a church to have a minister resign, but to have two leave at the same time is just plain old hard. I don't know what the circumstances were that prompted the abrupt departures, but the visiting minister mentioned several times that the congregation had much to overcome and that it was vital that they keep their eyes squarely focused on Jesus and their hearts overflowing with love for one another. He spoke a lot about grieving losses in life, and more than once he said that grieving is a messy business. There were tears in the building this morning as people took the hand of the person next to them, and there were nods of agreement as the minister encouraged them. I had made it through the service without shedding a tear ... I can't remember when I last made it through a church service without crying. And then the minister told one final story ... a story about his family dog.

As he began to talk about their dog, Gizmo, saying that he passed away last year, I bit my lower lip in an attempt to hold back the tears. He talked about how he never cared for the dog and said the dog would try to bite him every chance he got. His wife, however, was crazy about Gizmo and was distraught when he died. As he talked about the depth of his wife's grief over the little dog, I knew trying not to cry was futile, and the tears began to course down my cheeks. The minister ended his message with these words (I wrote them down so I would get them right) ... "Grieving is messy business, and it's personal business. No one can tell you how to grieve or what to grieve or when it's time to stop grieving. Our job is to love one another through the grief, to stand by one another through the grief, to support one another through the grief. I didn't understand the level of my wife's grief for Gizmo ... I didn't even like the dog. But I love my wife, and I will be there for her no matter how long she needs to cry about mean old Gizmo. Stay with each other, brothers and sisters, for one day the grief will be over and you will remember the love you all shared in His name."

So here's the thing ... my heart has been heavy for a long while, and I know that I'm grieving many losses that have come over the last few years. Weekends seem to be extra hard for me for some reason ... extra hard and extra lonely. I was sitting between a man and a woman this morning whom I'd never met, in a church I had never attended, listening to a minister I had never heard. And as my tears fell, the woman stood and went to the back of the sanctuary and came back with tissues for me. The man put his arm around my shoulder, and the woman patted my hand. When the service ended, I thanked them and they hugged me and I left ... I didn't get their names, and they didn't get mine. I don't remember the name of the minister or the songs that were sung. But I know that God meant for me to be there this morning ... to hear His "messy business" message ... to know that He feels my pain and sees my hurt ... to feel His love through the kindness of two strangers ... thank You, Lord ... thank You.