A ONE-LEGGED MAN
It’s strange how a few words can permanently alter your life. Exactly two years ago today, Linda and I sat at our kitchen table on a video call with an oncologist, as he delivered these disturbing words: “Ovarian cancer … stage four … incurable.” From that moment on, my world hasn’t been the same.
Words fail when I attempt to describe my two-year journey of grief. God has altered my perspective about the fragility and temporality of life, about how deeply he loves me, and about accepting life’s circumstances.
Shortly following his wife Joy’s death, C.S. Lewis, in A Grief Observed, drew a parallel between a man losing a leg and Lewis losing his wife. He wrote, “He will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be biped again.” (p. 52-53)
I’m learning to accept the fact that I only have “one leg” metaphorically, and in this lifetime my condition will not change. It’s heartbreaking. It’s devastating. I won’t get over it. But I’ll learn to live with it.
Through it all, God has been faithful. He’s the one certainty we can count on. Psalm 9:9-10 promises, “The Lord is a shelter for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. Those who know your name trust in you, for you, O Lord, do not abandon those who search for you.”
There’s no one-size-fits-all method of dealing with loss. No “ten easy steps” to overcome grief. It’s bitter at times, like chomping down on a green persimmon. Other moments I’m filled with sweet joy, like a ripe peach. God’s ever-present comfort is always with me.
I can’t say why God allows the tragedies that beset us. But in the midst of losing Linda, he comforts me. I can accept my loss, because I know where she is, where I’m headed, and my Abba is with me, sharing in my pain.
Principle: Some losses we will never get over, but we learn to live with them.
Ponder:
In what ways, have you experienced grief that parallels losing a limb?
How have you found comfort in the Lord’s compassion?
Pursue: For a deeper dive, study Psalm 9.
Compassionate Savior, heal my broken heart. Help me accept my losses in life, knowing you are always faithful.
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