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“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” -Matthew 5:4

It was all bittersweet, but that exact taste was needed for this recipe’s perfection. At times, I wondered if this feeling could be identified as umami, but truly, it was more tart than neutral. People usually shy away from using the word “bittersweet” in fear of its first portion.

Bitter. No one wants to be bitter.

And yet, we all have our moments where we move forward with a sentence or an action… not fully comprehending the intent until the deed is done. We then either rush to apologize or utilize cognitive dissonance to absolve us of our responsibility.

How can I point fingers when I have a reason to repent daily and thank God for His grace? Even in alignment, I am dependent on God’s mercy that renews every morning. I looked at the ones who kept me shackled with forgiveness in my eyes. I knew that they weren’t capable of loving me, and yet, I still wish that they can hold space for someone else. I wanted them to treat that person with dignity, even though they tried to rob me of mine.

When God untangled me from pride, I noticed that my heart continued to grow tender. My tongue became softer, no longer looking for ways to protect my being. I began to pray for integrity, and I also prayed to be established in the character God called me to embody. This integrity meant that I had to speak to the rock, and so I openly dismantled my defenses that desired to strike it.

I remembered what I wrote in “Hands To The Sky,” and my decree to dwell in radical honesty:

[Honesty that didn’t include self-betrayal, just as much as it didn’t include bitterness.]

That sentence led me to embrace grief who sat quietly in the corner of my room, as if he provided presence in hopes that I’d notice and acknowledge. I looked him square in the face. Words didn’t flow out of my mouth, instead they disguised themselves as heavy sighs and stomach flutters.

“Why do you feel so heavy- yet once I spend time with you, I feel lighter? Before I approached you with faith, you used to make this anchor attach itself onto my rib cage, weighing me down with chest pains. Now, here we are, and you invite me to dance after you ripped me away from things that wanted me sorrowful. These things were all I have known, and now you ask me to smile with grace shining bright in my eyes! As if I feel beyond the dimension I am in? As if you are someone you’re not? What are you to show me in this level of humiliation?! How will I grieve those who still move and breathe with me on this rotating space rock that somehow makes us feel lightyears apart?”

I said this with exasperation tinged in my tone. I couldn’t help but feel so upset by this rude awakening…

“Didn’t you want to be free?”

Grief replied abruptly. Tension filled the air while I felt the hair on my arm stand tall like a cat newly disturbed. I was more of a dog person. I digressed for focus.

Huffs. More sighs. And a tear that silently greeted my cheek once more.

“Isn’t God’s grace sufficient?” Grief growled this at me with a husky irritation. His question quickly made my chin drop to my chest while my eyes couldn’t bear the sight of his chaotic glare. I knew there was love in his irritation but I struggled to comprehend irritation in love that wasn’t abusive. Didn’t he know how I was raised? Didn’t he see what they did to me?

Despite my experience, I couldn’t respond with an excuse nor complaint. I couldn’t even think fast enough to throw at him a snarky, witty comment. His question stunned me, and I didn’t have any other choice but to process the statement posed as a question. He held up a mirror in conversation, and he showed me that pride made me hold on.

Sweat began to accumulate on my forehead though the room was cold. I felt the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go. God called me here. Grief just so happened to answer the phone at the same time I did. However, this confrontation wasn’t a trap, instead it was the key.

The old Selah would see grief’s juxtaposition as betrayal. She would quietly stomp around her room and argue with his antics, as if he was there to taunt her with her reality. Today, she wrote with growing pains, and then Selah became understanding that those stomach flutters signaled excitement. She didn’t want to waste her time or energy demonizing what God sent to save her, so she sat in humility.

Grief began to speak gently when he saw Selah’s walls crumble around the chair she sat in. Bricks that were once stacked high became piles of dust and debris scattered across the floor. “You are loved,” Grief spoke these words as if he desired to woo her into further heart exposure. He picked up a broom and its dust pan, encroaching further onto her island and crossing the moat that once separated her from him. “In fact, I love you, and I’m here to guide you to God and take care of you,” he spoke as he stared into her eyes while he swept.

Selah didn’t look away in the midst of her discomfort. She desperately wanted to experience this newfound love that desired her properly. He once reminded her of what she wanted to avoid, but now, she saw him clearly. He proved that she knew love because she was in his company.

She heard him. Even in her non-verbal response, he knew that she believed him and struggled to feel safe within that faith. Nonetheless, he noticed her shoulders release its tension as her facial expression softened. God reminded them of Ecclesiastes 3.

Selah got up quickly to help him sweep, but he led her to the sofa instead. He placed in her hands a notebook, a Bible, and a pen. He smiled at her softly- care radiating from his eyes. As he continued to sweep, she stole glances of him sweeping while humming a tune that sounded familiar. Scenes of birds and her harmonizing while she danced came rushing back to her mind. Another tear rolled down and greeted her skin. This time it felt warm. This time it was ridden with joy.