Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 1/5/21 Nik Curfman 1/5/21

Journal: #167 Grief is Real

Jesus cried when Larazus died, then he asked for a miracle. So will I. And should the Lord come to collect Mike, I will turn my attention to my roommate. It’s an honor to be his friend, to walk with him through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

The text message came during a flurry of work related activity, between my attempt to fix a website problem and messages our senior developer. "He’s not responding to the medication, and the doctors want to take him off life support to let him pass.”

I’ve spent the last two weeks praying for a friend’s dad, and now we are at the edge of the end. He will pass on into eternity, or God will intervene in a way only He can. Our human ability has reached its limit.

My roommate and I are not as close as we could be. Our relationship was strained a bit last year, but improved through the fall of 2020. Still, I’ve been to his parent’s home in Texas, and eaten at their table. I’ve talked to Mike via FaceTime and know his voice. My roommate’s father is not just another person to me. And this moment sucks.

It sucks balls. It sucks because Mike is in the hospital right now, by himself (due to COVID complications.). It sucks because when my roommate went home for Christmas, this situation was not on the table. This sucks because all I have is prayer, and it feels inadequate as a motherf*cker. And it really sucks because if just fucking sucks.

And yet, in this season of my life, I know prayer is the most valuable weapon in my bag. There’s nothing greater a child can do than raise their voice to the Father. What this comes down to is the trust I have in Jesus.

As in glorious as this moment is, laden with snot and tears, at least my roommate got to see his dad one last time. At least he go to be there when he went into the hospital. Had it happened a month earlier or later, my roommate would’ve been in California. At least he’s there to steady his mother and sister, and surrounded by family.

I’ve often thought about how we see cancer as a plague, but it’s not. Cancer and heart problems are the indicator something is wrong. And thanks to modern medicine we are given a timeline. At least we know a loved one is on the clock, rather than be surprised. It’s a silver lining I will not mention to my roommate any time soon, but no less true.

This moment, this space between life and death, is hard part of life. Certainty one way or the other is what I want. I want Mike to be healed or die quickly. The finality is the thing most desirable. But this middle ground? This is where we hope against logic and demand the miraculous. Through steady tears, I will not relent or stop asking for the Lord to touch Mike.

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Nik Curfman 9/2/20 Nik Curfman 9/2/20

A: Death, A Sweet Friend

We fight rage and battle, ultimately to fail. Run, hide, fight, scream, none of it matters.

He arrives on time, taking what He came for. Death. The thief of life.

We fight rage and battle, ultimately to fail. Run, hide, punch, scream, none of it matters.

He arrives on time, taking what He came for. Death. The thief of life.

But what if Death is our friend, not our sacred enemy?

Death leaves gifts we need but open. In the space where life was He always leaves what will be. What could be. But being flawed, being beings in need of order and shelter, we try to hide from His blessings.

We build towering monuments to our pain. Swear by our lives to never visit Death’s gate again. As if we have the ability to control Him.

No, Death is not the enemy. When a bright hour is gone, a loved one in decay, and a hope smashed into shards of grief, Death’s purpose is to carry it away. The remains of what was, to clear our ground for new life. For new hopes and dreams, and stages for joy and peace.