Sometimes the best thing may seem like the least productive thing.
Humans tend to think if we’re not doing something, changing something, being a catalyst for something, then we are not productive, not useful and are ineffective.
A friend told me he heard someone say, “The most spiritual thing people can do sometimes is take a nap. Resting shows your trust in God and not in what you can do.”
I think those words are stellar.
People need pillows. People need rest. People need naps.
Rest brings recharge for the body. Your mind gets some peace while your body renews itself and cells get regenerated and such. Sleep and rest are a good thing for finite human beings in rechargeable body vehicles. I’m sorry, I just think it’s funny to say “rechargeable body vehicles.”
Anyhoos, rest yourself today. God neither sleeps nor slumbers. Well, he kinda doesn’t need to…he is God. But he does model rest for us. After he made the world in six days, he took the seventh day off and rested. He rested. If he does it, then I for sure know that I need to do it and I haven’t even made a planet or an animal like a kangaroo like he has.
Writing this for friends who are struggling with their faith and those in the throws of the half empty cups of life:
When people are in ‘ish, and I mean tough, brutal, painful stuff where trauma has occurred and the hurt is beyond deep, don’t be spiritual with them.
Be relational instead.
Telling someone you will pray or quoting a Bible verse or reminding them what your favorite theologian/pastor/teacher/author said could feel more impersonal than you intend.
Those spiritual things, while sometimes helpful, still keep you at a distance from their pain where you can be safe, protected, not involved and unaffected.
But a relational response means you choose to get into the dirt, the mud, the ‘ish with them and look them straight in the eyes and say I’m in this with you. You are not alone. You are not alone.
I think this how empathy differs from sympathy. Sympathy expresses concern and sadness for someone as they experience deep pain. Empathy, by definition, allows you to understand and share in the feelings of another.
Lady Antebellum. Yo-Yo Ma. Etta James. Bobby Womack. India.Arie. Quite an eclectic music mix. In my journey of grieving losses the melodies of these musicians helped me heal. I feel the grace of God as I realize mourning is not a one-size fits all experience.
2013: A Year of Loss
I lost much in a span of seven months. A beautiful 82 year-oldgrandmother named Lena Maewho I believed secretly had a superwoman cape hidden under her clothes. She was just incredible – laughter and love wrapped up into southern hospitality at its best. She was safe. She was human. And she was mine.
Ten days after my family buried her I was rear-ended by a driver who lost control of her vehicle. The collision totaled my car, which was given to me as a gift six years prior and paid for. The physical impact of the crash required six months of chiropractic rehab for my neck and spine.
The emotional trauma left me with diminished mental capacity, anxiety driving and a fragile heart that wondered “Why would God allow this much pain in such a concentrated way into my life?”
On the heels of these experiences, I also lost the opportunity to mentor children I tutored for three years at a local community center. The center closed due to low funding. Seeing the kids for the last time, I tearfully said goodbye and thought “This is not the way it’s supposed to be.”
Two more losses took place in 2013 – in the spring and at the year’s end – also pouring into this concentrated funnel of pain. My pastor of eight yearsresigned abruptly. Significant transitions were coming at my job and several people would be leaving following spring.
At times I couldn’t find words to describe the perfect storm of the grief I felt and the hurt that lingered.
When My Words Left
Music became my interpreter. It reminds me I’m alive – in all of its gritty blues, playful twang, honeyed rhythms and sweet succession of its sounds.
Music tells me I will sing again. And when my words left me, melodies took their turn to help me heal.
These specific melodies are my feelings – vulnerable, contemplative, transparent, gutsy and real. I believe when there are no words there is definitely a set of chords that will play the truth of the heart.
Grief silenced my words for a very long time. Music helped me find them. These songs gave me the gift of dreaming again. They aren’t specifically about grief but they amplify my emotions as I’ve discovered how to live from loss. I created my own “Mourning and Living” playlist from these songs:
Lady Antebellum’s “Somewhere Love Remains” is slow and purposeful. It’s full of acknowledgment and asks for pursuit in its hopeful country melody.
Yo-Yo Ma’s “Quarter Chicken Dark” is funky and bold. Its beautiful violin banters and airy moments welcome thoughtful considerations.
Etta James’ “A Sunday Kind Of Love” makes me want to put on a stylish dress, a pair of heels, go to a throwback classic soul dance party and slow dance with my man. It’s full of sass and soulful demands and beckons for love.
Bobby Womack’s “That’s The Way I Feel About ‘Cha” is bluesy and guttural. Full of belly wrenching emotion and truth. It encourages me to feel.
India. Arie’s “Life I Know” is storytelling in pure form. It’s beautifully raw and authentically simplistic.
Feeling God in Grief
God uses different things to help us in life. People sometimes. Places next time. Things this time. Music is my thing right now. And it’s helping me express my grief as I ache for people and experiences that have left my life.
Grief is hard work. It depletes you. It can be brutal. And sometimes people around you don’t know how to respond or help as they see you in the “valley of the shadows.”
When pain enters my life I often ask, “Where is God in all of this?” and “Why did he let this happen?” Do I say he’s a mean God because for whatever reason he permits though does not inflict upon us suffering and violence along with brokenness and traumas that seem to make our hearts break, our souls ache and cause our minds to shatter?
Or do I say he’s a gracious Father and a loving Creator who in the midst of all this hell breaking loose also permits and gladly offers us the celebrations, the gift to live and the choice to love, to hold close those we embrace and let go those we’ve lost but will never forget?
Deep Calls to Deep
Suffering is a part of living. God gives the gift of grieving to help our hearts acknowledge, “Yes, I have loved this person, this is how I loved them and even now I still do love them though they have passed.”
God’s grace towards me is tender as I mourn. The first few months after my grandmother died and the car accident I couldn’t read the Bible even though I tried. I had no mental fortitude to sit, focus my thoughts, read and internalize the words.
God met me where I was. He spoke truth to my heart. He gave me music to help me express my emotions. The God of the universe stepped into my grief – sobs, anger, depression, questions – and stays in it with me as he walks me toward healing. I’ve healed a great deal in three years and my faith in God changed. It’s deeper. It’s more human. Way more personal. I’m alive, I’m here, melodies and all.
After childhood, I ran only if somebody was chasing me. Running on purpose and because I liked it was not me.
But something happened in 2014. I intersected with Black Girls Run!, a national movement of women who meet weekly in different cities for exercise and community.
I discovered new sisters who trained with me, ran races alongside me, and cheered my every step and mile. There were women who’d lost nearly 100 lbs because they started walking and running with Black Girls Run! (BGR).
My first meetup in August was encouraging. I learned more about BGR Orlando as I walked through Jay Blanchard Park with my friend Jessica (who encouraged me to join) and ladies in the Eastside group. A week later, I joined the Eastside sisters for a run with BGR Melbourne. I did a three-mile walk and jog with new friend Beverly. It was the first time I’d ever done that kind of mileage.
But work and priorities soon hit keeping me busy and tired. For a year, I fell off the BGR wagon. September 2015 arrived and I decided, “Mel it’s time to get connected again.” I discovered a BGR meetup five minutes from my house, and life has never be the same.
From September to December 2015, I completed two virtual 5Ks, ran 83 miles, and walked 29. My speed improved as I moved into a 14 minute mile and sprinted 13 and 12 minute miles for short periods.
Melody became a runner. Melody is a runner. What the what!
January 24, 2016, in my hometown of Atlanta, I completed my first live race, the Hot Chocolate 5K/15K. It was 30 degrees and the course was hilly, but I beat my previous 5K time. I had one 12 to 13 minute mile, and two miles under 30 minutes. I also finished under 45 minutes, a new personal record for me.
This also was a huge milestone in life, PERIOD. Running changed me. It’s helped me see my determination and how much strength my soul contains. You have to be determined and strong, and maybe a little bit crazy to run outside ON PURPOSE in 30 degree weather.
A few days after the race, I read a hilarious article about a dog named Ludivine who accidentally ran a half marathon and came in seventh place. Ludivine inspired me to make plans for my first half marathon this year. I told Jessica and the following text conversation ensued:
Mel: “That dog ran a whole 13 miles and came in 7th place. That’s freaking amazing.”
Jess: “He’s a dog though. They love running.”
Mel: “You should be excited that I am inspired.”
Jess: “Teresa encouraged you, I encouraged you. But nope, the dog inspired you.”
Mel: “For 13 miles (that dog ran). And by the way he is a she.”
Jess: “I’m glad you’re inspired though. All dogs look alike to me. Until she puts a pink bow in her hair she will be a he.”
Mel: “Her name is Ludivine. She’s southern. From Alabama.”
Jess: “Looooooooooool I’m done.”
Jessica can throw shade on Ludivine all she wants, but I’m proud of her! And I’m excited to see where my 5K, 10K and half marathon adventures take me this year. I’m confident with my BGR sisters we’re gonna stomp plenty of pavement.
My 11 year-old eyes stayed locked on her standing at the top of the porch of her Eatonton home in the Georgia country, as my mom backed down the gravel driveway.
The car shifted gears, moving away as my grandma Lena and me waved and blew kisses back and forth, saying and smiling goodbyes until we both could no longer see each other.
This was something we always did when I left her, a special tradition between us.
Another memorable southern summer full of red clay roads, ice milk and Big Red chewing gum came to an end. It was time for fall, time for school, and time to say goodbye to Lena Mae, at least until the holidays came ’round and I could get back to her…
Be relational instead.
Melody became a runner. Melody is a runner. What the what!
