Crying in the Basement

 Death, trauma, and grief sometimes feel like a dark basement. One can be at the top of the stairs one moment when random, innocent, or benign thoughts and memories trip the feet of our minds. Before you know it, you're haphazardly tumbling down and then suddenly finding yourself crumpled, further wounded, and weeping at the bottom of the stairs desperately groping around for a light switch. 

This isn't new. Since the moment life changed forever, you've found yourself down here numerous times. Sometimes you find the Light quickly, other times you sit in darkness for a while unsure you even want anything illuminated. There are times you lay dazed and gasping for the breath you lost upon impact when your world collided with sorrow. Sometimes you slowly crawl up one singular step at a time towards the sliver of light peeking in from the door at the top of the stairs. Occasionally the pain is so familiar you are able to trudge, albeit excruciatingly, steadily upwards. Other times you don't have the energy to move at all. The darkness and the pain have almost become comfortable- not desirable- but also not so foreign. To not hurt at this point seems a foreign concept. So, you lay there a while whispering and weeping in the dark. "God, help me."

The basement is always here now, like a home addition you can never undo or even wanted. The empty hole in your life isn't going anywhere. It's a part of who you are now, for better or for worse. Mostly life forces you to live at the top of the stairs. On occasion you may have the "luxury" of choosing when you descend into the basement. You gingerly step downward hugging close to the rail. Other times you find yourself desperate for a moment alone down there in a space you never wanted but your senses are now prepared for while expecting a catharsis. Thus, after hitting the light switch at the top of the stairs, you hurry below but with a hand clasping the rail to prevent a misstep and counting your frantic steps. 

In the beginning the fact you even have a basement is appalling and shocking. Even now there are days you wonder, "is this really my house? my life?". "Yes, it is indeed." And it is in this understanding of reality where the unplanned, unexpected, painful way you often still end up at the bottom of the stairs leaves you reeling. Longing for a New Home. One without dark basements. 

For now, I still find myself in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with my head in my hands and eyes swollen with tears. There is One who sees me here. 

One who has descended into dark depths for me. And then out of them. 

One who sits beside me in the dark comforting and strengthening. 

One who reaches for my hand to lead the ascent but is okay sitting and crying with me while holding me on the dark cold basement floor.

 I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. Revelation 3:8

As believers, our lives may be full of unwanted basements this side of Heaven, but one day soon....

Look! God's dwelling place is now among his people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. Revelation 21:3-4