My life is a barrel of grapes, my soul the grape seeds.
I feel the pounding and crushing blows against my skin.
My flesh is broken, exposing the delicate fruit within.
I am under intense pressure.
I look around.
My life appears to be destroyed.
I am left to sit and ferment.
I stink and feel useless.
My broken skin barely hangs on.
Juice accumulates at the bottom of the barrel.
Time passes.
I feel alone, exposed, and broken.
Has the wine maker forgotten?
Is he there? Does he care?
I am about to drown when I see his face.
It is kind and compassionate, loving.
I feel hope.
Is he coming to rescue me? Will he stop my pain?
He walks to the barrel holding each piece of my broken life.
He gently extracts some of the juice. His touch is gentle.
The movement creates a restless desire for freedom; escape.
He softly tells me to trust him.
He is not finished with me yet.
He will continue to care for me.
But, it is not time.
I don’t understand my purpose.
Why won’t he tell me?
I can’t comprehend this grief.
Will I ever understand?
I often hear his voice.
It is calm and quiet.
I breathe in deep.
I know he is there.
He draws near and gently extracts more juice.
I feel his presence.
He makes me feel safe,
Filling me with a peace only he could provide.
It is time.
In excitement, I await my freedom.
I just know he will put the pieces of my life back together.
He will fix my brokenness.
He will make everything okay.
But, instead I am poured out into a cylinder,
Exposed and vulnerable!
I don’t understand.
I thought my pain was about to end.
Have I not given him everything I can? He wants more?
I see a large press coming toward me.
I close my eyes and scream.
The pressure is intense, the weight unbearable.
Every piece of my life has been squeezed out.
Just when I feel my soul is about to be crushed, the weight is lifted.
He has controlled the pressure.
All that remains is my skin and my soul.
I don’t understand.
I look at the winemaker and see his smile.
I feel frustrated.
There is nothing left of me.
I am simply a shell and a soul.
The winemaker lifts me up and shows me what only he can see.
Each area of my life has been poured into barrels, too many to count.
Each one engraved with my name.
In large letters, I notice each barrel has the same inscription: Relationships
Under the boldness of this word, are smaller letters.
The five closest to me read:
Cancer
Marriage
Child-loss
Family
Failed Adoption
I am stunned.
Amazed.
Humbled.
For the first time, I realize my life is not about me.
My purpose is not for me.
I was created for him:
The wine maker.
His desire is to make me pure.
Not a single drop wasted.
To be used as he desires, as he sees fit.
My life crushed.
Every part of me meant to bring him glory.
My soul unharmed. Protected.
His love is clear.
My purpose understood.
By the time I was thirty-two years old, I had already encountered more tragedy than most people experience in a lifetime. I’ve had to fight for my life; suffering through radiation treatments and nearly dying from chemotherapy to beat cancer three times. I’ve been tormented with life and death decisions, as I struggled over whether or not to intervene on behalf of my tiny 15-ounce baby girl born at 22.5 weeks gestation. And after falling in love, I handed a child I believed in my soul was meant to be my son, back to his birth-mom when she decided to revoke his adoption plan.
Over the last seven years, I have spent countless hours in both physical and online support groups, wondering if anyone else feels the same way I do. I was shocked to learn that I was not alone. The reality is that the worst pain in life does not always come from illness, child-loss, death, or even the grief itself. Many times, the greatest obstacles to overcome through difficult times are the unintended hurt caused by painful words spoken, and inactions by those who care for us.
From my personal experiences, I’ve compiled this resource guide filled with examples of the great support my husband and I received during our darkest moments, and the harmful words that stunted our recovery. My hope is that if you have experienced a similar tragedy, you will find comfort in our experiences. And, if you know someone who has experienced a similar tragedy, may these examples give you the wisdom to speak encouraging, and positive words, and ideas of how to provide tangible support in times of great difficulties.
“Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”
—Proverbs 16:24