Refined.

"But He knows the way I take; When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold." Job 23:10 

I was in a state of grieving. There in the middle of despair, I found my heart mourning greatly. I did not lose a family member or a friend. I did not  have to prepare a funeral or send a card. There was no formal goodbye. But in so many ways, as the tear welled up in the corner of my eyes, I wished there had been. Maybe letting go would be easier, if I buried this loss under heaps of flowers and trusted with all my heart that now God held this thing in His own two hands. 

But here I sat, grieving, a loss that scooped me up like the wind swings the leaves on a blustery day. And as I let the salty drop roll down my face, my heart broke into pieces. 

Every process in life, every epic fail and great success, every moment refines us. The day I learned to make lasagna for the cute boy coming to dinner and the morning I drove to my new job for the first time or the night I thought I would never laugh again, big or small those things changed me. And so it is with loss. It changes us. For better or for worse, it impacts who we are and who we are becoming. And when I am not smack in the middle of it, I can see that. 

But what about the days I am, there in the middle of my own tears? What about the days when even though I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel, I do not want to see it? What about the days when I think it's all unfair, and unjust, and downright unacceptable? How do I let myself be refined on those days? 

I did not want to say goodbye. In fact if life were the way I would write it, I would never say goodbye to anything. I would never see the end of my favorite TV show. And I would never be apart from the people I love. If life were my way...I would keep caring around this baggage from the relationship that is draining all my time and I would always be distracted by the person who is refusing to accept my love. If life were my way, I would be boggled down by the ministry that is not working and the hurt that I cannot let go. I would be the opposite of the girl from Frozen who wants to let everything go. I would capture to a T the "I hold on" of Dierks Bentley, in a bad way. I hold onto EVERYTHING. I cannot say good bye. I refuse to. I resist. I cling, and grasp, and beg God not to take it from me. 

And then on the day He does I sit there and cry. How could He? And why? And what now? How can I even function without this thing, you fill in the blank, that I thought I could never live without. And why should I have to?

Refined. He says to me, I want you to be refined. My existence has never actually been threatened by letting any of these things, or relationships, or moments go. In fact, just like when you clean out the heaps of extra things in your closet, when I am able to let some things go, I see more clearly everything else I have and maybe exactly what God has planned for me to put on for tomorrow. 

And maybe it would be easier if I got to have a eulogy, or a gathering, or a formal good bye. And maybe it would be easier if I did not feel like perhaps God wasn't really behind this good bye. But maybe, it does not matter. In everything, He refines me, in everything. 

At the end of my life, when I reach the gates of Heaven, I want Christ to look at me and see His beautiful TREASURE. Like a diamond in the rough, that you have to fight to see, I know God has found the beauty in me. And every day, in every moment, He is chipping away the things that keep me from shining more fully. And even when those are the things that used to let you shine the brightest, when He says come and follow me, you have to let them go. 

I said good bye. First by force, but now by choice, because I trust in a God who is refining me.