Grit

 Grit.  That word lingered in my mind yesterday morning after Jason’s sermon on Psalm 42 on Sunday.  The mornings are the toughest time of the day since Haddy went Home for me.  So, as you can imagine, the morning of the 4th of July is humbling.  I laid on my air mattress in my tent here at the campground, listened to nature, and wept again.  I weep for my boy and for all of the subsequent losses and pain so intricately tied to his death.  I thought about the book of Habakkuk, the wrestling lament of a prophet given to us for the good in it.  There it came again.  Grit.  Our faith is pretty gritty, the Hampton kiddos and parents alike.  We aren’t pulling up our bootstraps and telling each other, “suck it up buttercup.”  We aren’t avoiding.  We are messy, wrestling, and fighting for joy and happiness in the Lord and with each other.  

Yesterday looked like that.  We played so hard!  I took almost no pictures.  The reception is terrible here and I was glad about that.  We wore sorrow, angst, and irritability intermittently, but we fought for laughter, union, and joy.  We entered into the hard and the good.  Trauma and grief have changed us, no doubt, yet I think of the steady formation of the gritty, wrestling faith He’s building in our midst.  I am proud of my people.  We are becoming broken and beautiful.  We are flourishing in affliction.  We are sorrowful and joyous.  God’s heart does not feel far off but near.  Sometimes in our lament He feels far for isn’t that the nature of so much anguish?  The ‘why’ or ‘how long oh Lord’ questioning that perpetually spills from our lips?  As Psalm 42 and Habakkuk do, I recalled to mind the power of God in this seemingly impossible providence.  In my remembrance of these past 4 years I recollect that HE has carried ME.  HE has carried US, bringing purpose in pain and comfort consistently to our souls.  Remembering all that Christ has done right here in my own story but more importantly throughout all of Biblical history produces rejoicing and the grit to keep clinging in this bloody knuckle way I know so well now.  I’m not sad about that grit y’all.  I rejoice for HE has done it.  He is faithful to complete this work in us.  He is worthy of our trust.  

Yes, my mind steadies on my blue-eyed boy whom my heart overflows with yearning for.  That is still a guttural groaning.  I’ll keep letting that yearning stay.  Living means I must allow both sorrow and joy to remain.  Living within the tension is the very call on my life.  My Momma heart groans over my children’s grief.  My heart aches for the grief of my husband.  We miss every bit of Haddon James.  We miss all that we know about him, and we miss all that we don’t.  We grieve a future that feels unwritten.  We grieve the wounds of the past that have changed us.  In all of it, we undoubtedly see God’s hand upon us.

We have coveted your prayers and been held by them.  Thank you all for the immense amount of love you have delivered.  Your gentle kindness goes farther than you know.  Because of your big love, we are never alone as we journey through.  We are ever grateful!!  Each and every text, card, message, hug, prayer, hand held, and steady look in the eye girds us up for this fight we’re in to know God, fight for joy, and grieve toward God.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.  We love you.  We are surely held in God’s care by you, His body!