Come Walk with Me

Losses in Life

The dusty country path we walk on is where I first learned about losing something very dear to me. This peaceful, lazy lane is where I learned of death. There are many losses in life. Too many. Often we learn at an early age the pain that loss causes. Perhaps these happen to prepare us for future wounds. It’s not that we become used to loss because when it happens, we are once again overwhelmed. Rather those experiences teach us that we can and will move forward. As a very young child when I about three years old, I had a dog. Not just any dog, mind you. This was Mossy! She was my constant companion. She followed me everywhere I went during the day. Mossy was my friend, my protector,and a wonderful playmate, willingly ready to enter into whatever game that I wanted to play. Daddy was the blacksmith, and the shop was not far from our house. I loved spending time in that old dusty shop with my daddy. I knew not to get in the way, and Mossy made sure I stayed exactly in the spot I had been told to stay.

One morning I was ready to start my wandering way to the shop. I called my faithful friend, but she did not respond. I looked in all her favorite places. I searched all morning and could not find her. Daddy came home for lunch, and he had not seen my dog either. For several days, we watched and waited. I missed my big, lumbering companion. Then one day some kids came by. They said they knew where my dog was and offered to show me where I could find her. Of course, I wanted to find my special friend. I followed the kids a good distance to a big patch of overgrown weeds. Amid the weeds lay my dog. She was so still, and there were flies all around her. She didn’t move. She didn’t run to me. So still.

Running as fast as my legs would move, I hurried home, crying more and more with each step. Daddy was there, waiting with open arms. I stumbled into Daddy’s arms, and he talked to me in such a gentle way. I learned then about death and how much it hurts to lose something you treasure. I stayed in the safety of those strong blacksmith arms until my heart and soul quieted. Yes, there are many times of loss in our lives. That was my first. Maybe my heavenly Father was preparing me even then for losses I would face in the future. Isn’t God wonderful and perfect? Oh, He is! God used my earthly father, who had open arms for me to run to when I didn’t know what else to do. Daddy’s voice was kind and calm as he explained about death, telling me that I could not hold on to something of the earth forever. There had to be times of letting go.

This concept has hit home for me many times as I have dealt with grief over the loss of a loved one and disappointment when I failed at something. Because I could trust my earthly father, it was much easier to place my faith and trust in a heavenly Father. I could let Him have my hurts and the trials and pain that came with each loss. I have learned to open my hands and let go. This is not an easy thing to do, and often I must pry open my hands many times before I finally let go of that which I am holding so tightly. God is faithful and understands my struggle. I can’t say it often enough that Jesus walks beside me, giving me the strength for each step I must take to move forward. I look at my life as a journey—a journey of experiences and events, a journey of joy and deep sadness, a journey of winning and becoming queen of the mountain one day and losing the next, and a journey of being defeated in the valley. The top of the mountain is always best. The high places allow me to celebrate the climb. The climb has been arduous and tiring. Even if I am weak, I am still on the peak, above the chaos in the valley below. I can breathe clean air, and the wildflowers dancing in the breeze bring joy that refreshes my soul. I am not on any mountaintop at the moment. I am in the valley of despair.