For Wilshire Baptist Church
Leaving Baylor’s McLane Stadium on a recent Saturday afternoon, we paused for a moment on the plaza leading to the bridge over the Brazos River and saw a couple walking toward us, hand-in-hand, chatting softly. The man made eye contact and smiled and we smiled back. He was beaming actually, and why not? His team had just been destroyed, but it was only sport; it wasn’t life or death. Meanwhile it was a beautiful day, he was alive, and his broken heart was being held gently by the woman he was walking with.
I’ve never been introduced to this man but I know who he is and I know some of his story: his wife of many years died a few years earlier, far too young and just when life was getting really good. I hurt for him then and I quietly cheered for him now because of that smile. And yet there were questions in my head: How long had it been since his world had fallen apart? And where was he on the bridge between what was and what might be?
Those are questions I obsessed about not so long ago as I walked in that man’s shoes. I was starting to cross that bridge from grief to joy and I found it exciting and yet troubling. I’d spend time with LeAnn and then I’b be driving home and somewhere between Duck Creek and Casa Linda the doubts and the guilt would bubble up and I’d start asking questions. Is it too soon? Do I need more time? Is this fair to LeAnn? Is this fair to Debra?
I wished there still were societal rules and etiquettes for grief — when to quit wearing black, when to be seen out in public, when to smile, when to breathe again. But those rules are long gone. We have to figure it out on our own and with the person crossing the bridge with us. Because as it turns out LeAnn had many of the same questions and some of her own. After all, she had never been married before.
I did a quick internet check and found that the man crossing the bridge was on just about the same timeline that I had been on. Which means he might be asking the same questions: too soon, too quick?
The simple truth is God’s timing is a mystery, and it’s different for each of us. And if we try to figure it out we’re going to be conflicted. There’s plenty of guilt about being happy and knowing joy. If we’re happy, then we’re not grieving. And if we’re not grieving, then we won’t remember. But in my experience there are little pieces of grief floating around all the time, and you’ll never forget someone you loved and pledged yourself to.
The joyous truth is that God’s timing is perfect. What’s more, God’s plan is perfect. I checked myself daily and even though I had worries about appearances and speed and all of that, I couldn’t stop God’s timing or God’s plan. I could tap the brakes but I couldn’t stop the car. I was going over the bridge and I wasn’t in control. As it turns out, the one in control is a better driver than me.
So, to my friend who doesn’t know me, I want to say: trust your heart and trust God. Enjoy the sunshine, spend some time on the bridge, and keep sharing your smile.