Over the years, we attempted numerous corn mazes. We experienced defeat in three states! Florida, South Carolina, and Wisconsin. You’d think after the first couple of white flag surrender endings that we’d give up. Nope. Not us.
Maps, clues, lookout points, nothing seemed to help us with wayfinding. Heck, half the time I spent finding my kid, who ran ahead of me despite my pleas to stay near. By the time we reunited, I was completely disoriented. That says a lot. Since childhood, I’ve studied maps for fun. Yes, I still keep a road atlas in my car. I consider myself to be better than okay with directions. Hitting wall after wall in a corn maze frustrates me.
Same goes for the grief. You’re going along rather okay, and out of nowhere, BAM! You hit a wall. A wall you didn’t see coming. Disorientation re-enters the chat. Sometimes, you have absolutely no clue what triggers tears, sadness, or memories.
These invisible walls extend well beyond the longing of earliest grief. Built from the secondary losses and an unprocessed accumulation of a lifetime of other griefs, it can get complicated quickly. If you’re not mindful, you may not see the blue skies beyond the walls.
Stay calm. Look to that blue sky. That’s where help comes from. Psalm 121, remember? Look up. The sun is still shining. You may feel isolated and lost in the moment, but all is not lost. There is no shame in asking for help along the way. I made it out of those corn mazes that way!
Keep going, friends.