God of Loss, God of Regeneration

Inner transformation and rebirth, is ongoing, often unsought after, and
unwelcome. Yet life, nature’s gift, isn’t static but continually fluid – in
motion – changing, evolving, completing one phase, then dying, in order
that new life, new perspectives, new opportunities for vibrancy, can take
root and nourish.

I resist such traumatic upheavals. I decry the death blows I experienced in a two year span losing (a loaded term): my wife, my mother, my father-in-law, my sister-in-law. I gasp for breath, retreat, question God’s presence and absence, and look through the shards of broken glass that used to be my immediate family.

You have taken my companions and loved ones from me
(Psalms 88).

I grieve over such perceived unfairness and wonder who am I to be now,
and who am I in essence, beyond those singular identifying roles. No longer the same husband, son, or in-law. Yet still, all of those are part of me, my cellular history, and carry over into my reborn-or better, rebirthing-self.

God’s Spirit whispers: “I am always with you my child.”

Thus I am learning about new, heretofore unavailable, ways to relate, to
love, to relinquish, to be. Ways to accept, at least partially, that control is
illusion, that ashes really do offer new growth to the phoenix within my
God-breathed soul. That I not only can survive, but can also thrive, in
newly budding perspectives, relationships, and moments of simple intense gratitude for life itself.

I cherish these sparks of newness and rebirth, and find myself ever so
grateful for the journey..

Blessed be the Lord, who would not give me up (Ps 124).

 

—Virgil Fry

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