When I was a young child, our family would take trips to an amusement park in Sandusky, OH called: Cedar Point. Once, on the way, we stopped at a place in Castalia, OH. There was a little tourist stop there called: The Blue Hole. At that time, it was presented as a bottomless pit.
I recall peering down into this water-filled hole which was similar to looking down into a well. I lacked the ability to comprehend the fascination held by my parents. They attempted to explain their wonder, however my little logical mind went TILT!
I was quite young, perhaps only five, yet old enough to know that the world was round. So, I reasoned, it had to come out somewhere. If it was ‘bottomless’ as I was being told, I asked: “Does that mean the people in China are looking down the same hole at the other end?”
In actuality, it was a naturally fed spring from an underground aquifer.
In Grief, our perceptions change over time; they evolve. There are times in which I feel as if I have fallen into a bottomless pit. When such feelings overwhelm me, my reason escapes me. I forget that this life is fleeting, but a vapour. James 4:14 “Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.” Will this journey of pain and sorrow ever end? Yes. But not in this world, not in this place. There will always be times of sorrow and pain in this fallen place. We will never stop missing our child.
We do know, eventually, Rev. 21:4 “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” The dilemma that exists is what we are to do with this intermediate time, this time of ‘waiting’. Do we continue to peer into the ‘bottomless pit’ of Grief? Or, do we choose to live our lives knowing that one day, we will come out on the other side.
Behind my little fishing camp in the world of rural America, there is a small mountain. Through it runs an old, no longer used, train tunnel. Not too long ago, they paved over the tracks to make it part of a bike trail. I have walked through this tunnel only a few times because there is a place near the center of it that I absolutely dread. At this point, there is complete darkness. Upon looking behind where I had entered the tunnel, I can no longer see the opening or any light. Looking ahead, I am still not far enough along to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I will not pass through this section without holding the hand of my fellow sojourner. Yes, I will take along a flashlight which offers me the ability to see if anything may be in my way that could trip me up. But because of the slight bend around the mountainside, it does not afford me the ability to see ahead. I can reason it out, knowing that if I keep forging ahead I will soon see the light at the end. But that offers me little to no comfort in that momentary place of darkness. My reason fails to overcome my fear. I cannot go back; I must keep moving forward.
Eventually, I will see the light at the end of that tunnel and all fear vanishes.
In reality, the Blue Hole does have a bottom. To my knowledge, there is no way to go through it and come out on the other end. Whereas, in my tunnel, I will.
Although our Grief feels like a Blue Hole more often than we care to admit…in reality, it is a long dark tunnel that eventually does come to an end where, once again, we can see the light. Although, we may momentarily ‘freeze’ in fear when we reach a junction of darkness…if we keep walking, keep moving, keep forging forward, we will come out of it at the other end. But, we have to believe, we have to know, that there is an end to the tunnel.
1 Thessalonians 4:
The Coming of the Lord
13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
(((HUGS))) Jude Gibbs, Author of ‘Gifts from the Ashes’ available at:
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