“Blessed are the peacemakers . . . “.  

Today in church, the pastor talked about this passage from within Matthew 5 – the Beatitudes.    He spent a considerable amount of time contrasting peacekeepers as compared to peacemakers.  I have to confess, I tend to be a peacekeeper.  That is, I tend to go with the flow, try to appease people, avoid conflict.  In contrast, a peacemaker is honest and true to herself.

It is interesting that sometimes I try to convince myself that my willingness to avoid conflict is being selfless, but that is a lie.  I am simply trying to make my life easy.  I so want to avoid conflict that challenging the status quo would bring.

I think that my issue is that sometimes I feel like I am just insisting on getting my own way; as if it is all about me.  That is clearly wrong.  I need to be willing to meet people halfway; I don’t always have to get my way.  I guess what I am learning is that there are some times that it is okay for me to insist on my way; there are times that it is appropriate to take a stand.  Often, I am reluctant in even these cases.  

My grief process is a good example.  In the process of grief, it really is okay to be about me.  There is nobody who has suffered a greater loss when it comes to Christopher’s death.  My grief process is uniquely mine; there are no rules, there is no way that it “should be” done.  There is no book.   This is my first life experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I find it odd that so many people tell me that they don’t know how they would deal the loss of a child and they are right; nobody knows until they have to experience it.  At the same time, however, I am often left feeling judged for the way that I am dealing with it, as if somehow I am doing it wrong.  I know that they don’t mean it that way (and perhaps I am just particularly sensitive in this area since I don’t know if I am doing it “right.”), but if they listened to themselves, I think that they would be surprised or maybe even embarrassed.  
I have come to believe that this is a process without end.  There will never be a day in my life that I don’t wish that Christopher were there; a day when I don’t miss him.  This is a good thing because it reflects how much he is loved.  Grief is something that I simply need to learn to live with.  I trust that it will change, that the pain will not be so intense on a daily basis, but it will always be there.

I pity the first person who tells me that it is time to “get over it.”