Holy Spirit, breath of life
You are built into every wall and window,
every doorway and floorboard
of this home I call my life—
the life I’ve loved,
the life I’ve lost…
I thought I was doing pretty well.
Or did I just tell myself I was?
I made the home of my heart tidy and put together,
placing the pillows, straightening the papers….
And then, a roaring wind rips open the door left ajar,
scattering every single thing I had put in place,
everything I had touched,
every single part of me.
These gusts of grief catch me by surprise,
but why?
How did I think it could be controlled?
That someday, it would be “easier?”
Wind is life, and the cries of grief
are the sound of being alive.
What if this holy wind is sacred Spirit breath,
reminding me not to stop grieving
because grief that has space to move
leaves in its wake healing, peace, and new life?
I brace for it,
I face it,
and find myself held by unshakeable grace.
Brace, face, grace…
You make your home right in the deepest parts
of my grief and my love, showing me
they are actually the same thing,
And you are in them.
Because while the person, the dream, the life I knew itself
now feels lost to me, it is forever held in your hands.
And so am I.
So with your help, I will let go of my hanging on
that I might feel myself held.
You will bless the grieving of what I loved and lost,
making more life with the beauty of my grief expressed.
And what I actually most want, God,
is for you to keep blowing open
the doors and windows of my heart,
lest I think I can control this grieving journey.
While it is the path of my loss
it is also the road reminding me I am alive,
and have loved much.
The sound of my crying
sings me back to greater life every time.
I will keep the door wide open now,
coming to its threshold and closing my eyes…
As the wind touches every part of me.
I will breathe all the way in.
I have loved and lost and am alive.
Brace, face, grace…
Amen.
