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Permission to Grieve

Permission to Grieve

by Kaitlyn Bouchillon | Oct 22, 2015 | Broken and Raw, Faith, Generation Y, three little words

Jesus never appeared to be in a hurry. Not as He traveled or spoke or celebrated, and not when He wept, either. He paused and took time to feel His feelings. He chose to live in the moment, to be fully present right where He was, although as the God of the universe,...

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MY BOOK // Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between

Even If Not: Living, Loving and Learning in the in Between

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The promise-maker in Malachi is the promise-keeper The promise-maker in Malachi is the promise-keeper in Matthew. Tonight, on this first Sunday of Advent, I’m returning to a question that, years ago, changed how I think about this season. I’m thinking about the generations that continued to tell the story, the ones who kept on repeating the words while listening for the next line.⁣⁣⁣ And I’m remembering: the Word kept His word, keeps His word, and gets the last word. This weary world and our weary hearts actually do have a very good reason to rejoice: Everything sad will come untrue for Light has come, Love has won, and even now all is being made new. And so—may we be a people who wait well, who cling to hope when the night is long, who remember and believe even in the silence that darkness doesn’t get the final word. ⁣ Hope is here. Emmanuel, God with us forevermore. Joy to the world. The Story is in good hands. — This post is an excerpt from Week One of my 2024 Advent series: the weight of waiting. If you’re overwhelmed or exhausted, weary or wondering “how much longer?”, filled with genuine hope and joy but also carrying the weight of waiting… this series is for you. For me. For us. To receive the full series via email, including weekly Advent reflections, songs, verses and lock screens, subscribe at https://kaitlynbouchillon.substack.com. (the link is in my bio) If this encouraged you, or you think your friends would enjoy the Advent series, feel free to share this post to your IG Stories! ♥️
My head is pounding, the weekly migraine doing no My head is pounding, the weekly migraine doing no favors, and I know there are plenty of reasons to say maybe next year, to hope that my health will shift in 2025 and my bandwidth will increase and I’ll have so much margin that the entire series is ready by September instead of written in the most real of real time. In a season of More More More, the more I’m interested in is more rest, more answered prayers, more manna. And yet, despite a dozen valid and logical reasons, this won’t idea let go of me. Maybe… maybe *because* I’m carrying the weight of the long wait. Maybe because you are too. Maybe because there’s a wild tension in daring to declare joy to the world while navigating the silence of a dark night. Maybe because that’s exactly where we’ll find Him. Breaking into the silence with the vulnerable cry of a little one. Showing up in our grief, in our confusion, in every waiting room. Keeping His Word even when it doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem to add up, seems to be taking so very, very long. Every time I write about waiting, you write your own “me too’s.” Our stories are different, but the weight of waiting is universal, and for six months I haven’t been able to shake the idea of leaning into this tension-filled theme, with this phrase, for Advent. Advent: coming. arrival. appearance. expectation. anticipation. Wait: stay. remain. delay. pause. stop. But then there’s this, a combo of the two, from Merriam-Webster: “waiting — to remain stationary in readiness or expectation, to look forward expectantly” And so, I’m writing an in-real-time Advent email series called: the weight of waiting. The first weekly Advent reflection (plus a song, verse, & lock screen) goes out THIS Sunday to everyone who subscribes. If you’re overwhelmed or exhausted, weary or wondering “how much longer?”, filled with genuine hope and joy but also carrying the weight of waiting… this is for you. For me. For us. Comment ADVENT below and I’ll send you the link to learn more/subscribe to the series!🎄 Grace and peace to you in the beauty and the weight of these days, friend. ♥️
This is, easily, one of the hardest things I’ve This is, easily, one of the hardest things I’ve written. I took very great care in the details and the timeline, with what is said and what isn’t. Still, my heart is pounding, knowing it’s officially in print. But when @kristenstrong asked me if I would contribute something to a book called Praying Through Loneliness, the topic/theme/truth of this particular storyline from my history came rushing in and absolutely would not let me go. I wrestled with “Can I say that? If so… how? Is there a way to write the straight up truth and to tell it clearly, while writing around the details so it reaches the reader with “me too” without exposing the where or the when or the who?” I cried very real tears and prayed very earnest prayers that God would give me words that are nothing but truthful, while still being vague, in a desire to be kind. It’s no exaggeration to say I’ve thought about and prayed over this every single week since it was turned into the publisher. There are so few posts or books about something like this, and as desperately as I’ve longed for one (or a dozen), I deeply understand why the gap exists. After all, I myself could write 50,000 words and yet, mostly, I’ve remained quiet about this particular storyline. Kristen sent the invitation, though, and I accepted because of a gentle prompting that I’m far, far, far from the only one who wouldn’t wish it on anyone, yet hopes someone else will get it, will say I’m so sorry and it’s awful and I see you and thank God for God and you are not alone. If this resonated with you today, I am so deeply, terribly sorry. I wish I could sit with you and listen to your story, offering a quiet presence as you navigate a page you didn’t expect to find yourself on. Because I can’t do so physically, I promise to pray the prayer on your behalf, for any who comments with a heart below. 💛 (P.s. I’m giving away a copy of the new book! Swipe through the slides for giveaway info. 🫶🏻)
Hello, 32! I’m not gonna lie, I re-read my refle Hello, 32! I’m not gonna lie, I re-read my reflection from this time last year and was tempted to just re-say the entire thing. It all, every bit of it, stands. Knives and also dancing, starting over and also staying, ashes and also laughter. Even ‘attempted break-in’ carries over in a wild, 100% copy/paste deja vu. The hardest and most heartbreaking year said “let’s go one more round” and you couldn’t pay me enough to re-walk through 30 and 31… but the wild thing is, a dear one sent a ‘happy birthday to a woman of tenacity and tenderness’ message… and I’m just not sure that would be true, however true it is, without the tension of the two, the BOTH and the AND. Storms and rainbows, as I said last week. Fires and hope like an ember, as I said at the start of 31. Absolutely no, I can’t say that it’s all “worth it” but absolutely yes, I can see that it isn’t wasted. I can see that I like the skin I’m in, that I’m still standing, and that the why and the way that’s possible is actually a Who. You can swipe for a handful of pixels and lines from the year, but I won’t bury the lede, the summary, the banner over and the understory of it all: Jesus is enough. In the both and the and, the promise and the pain, the wild and the wonderful, the locusts and the laughter, the absolutely awful and the abundantly more than imagined. God’s with-ness does not waver and His faithfulness does not fail.⁣ 31: He held me and He held true.⁣ And so I’m greeting 32 with a hard-fought genuine joy and the belief that next year I’ll write “32: The year of miracles”, as a woman who, only by the grace of God, is not just still standing but is learning to dance in the deep. Here’s to a new year and a God who makes all things new while remaining faithful and true, constant and kind and so very good. He’s enough. So, yes, hello, 32! I’m happy to meet you. :)
There’s a verse in Jude that shocked me the firs There’s a verse in Jude that shocked me the first time I read it in The Message. It’s so blunt… yet so kind. It’s honest and careful to hold the tension, speaking hope in the valley of the shadow. All may not be alright right now… it may seem like everything has fallen apart, splintered into shards so small that you’ll be stepping on glass that traveled far and wide for years to come… it might feel like seasons are competing against one another, the old and the new and the what-even-is-this, this middle ground of unknowns and waiting, this land of longings and questions asking how can this be and how much longer until all all all is made new…⁣ And Jude says: “Relax, everything’s going to be alright; rest, everything’s coming together; open your hearts, Love is on the way.” And I want to say Jude, are you sure? Like, super sure? Because the rest of your letter is more “keep watch” than relax, more “persevere” than rest. But then there’s that sentence at the start: Jude, who grew up the brother of Jesus, calls himself the servant of Jesus Christ the Son of God. What would it be like to grow up as siblings, only to later realize you shared a table with the Messiah, did the dishes with God, tackled the Most High in the dirt? Talk about “how can this be?!?” But Jude, he was fully convinced. So I re-read through the lens of sibling and servant and see: His letter doesn’t bypass the struggles of the day, doesn’t dismiss the confusion and pain, but he begins with Good News for the weary, the restless, the exhausted. He starts here, as if to say ‘you may be in the valley and it may not be anywhere near alright today, but I know someone—really really know someone—and He changes everything.’ It’s the Gospel in a verse, written by a guy who woke up next to the One who tells the sun to rise. And so today, on a Friday morning thousands of years later, here in the land of A Lot and the land of the living… may we find comfort in the One who walks with us through the deepest of depths, the darkest of nights, and the most barren of winters. The One who turns every story good and makes all things right in the end. The One who, even now, is on the way. ♥️
What I need you to know is that I filmed this over What I need you to know is that I filmed this over a year ago. What I need you to know is that the storm is still storming. What I need you to know is that I’m 0% a fan of getting choked up on the Internet… but when it’s been raining and raging for so long… and when you’ve learned and are learning to dance in the deep, and you’re finding Him ever-faithful and always-good, but also some days the wind whips and your eyes fill and you’re so ready for “peace, be still”… and a rainbow appears, light forever finding a way through? You film the video. I tucked this one away for later, and then life kept life-ing and God kept holding true but I forgot about it sitting there on my camera roll. It came to mind the other day as I drove beneath gray skies, the windshield wipers flinging the rain aside, and I wonder if maybe there’s someone who needs it… now. And so, here’s a teary video from somewhere in the middle of a storm. The storm hasn’t stilled, but the truth has held. In the blaze and the waves, Love holds steady. God keeps His word. He doesn’t shake or flinch, doesn’t betray or change His mind, doesn’t get weary or overwhelmed, doesn’t leave or lie.⁣ He won’t disappear or stab you in the back. No, He just stays with and carries through and paints the sky, covering us with a rainbow of beauty and light.⁣ ⁣ We might not be able to see it yet, and the rain might still be falling, but the promise maker is a promise keeper. 🌈 It’s just a glimpse, but it’s also a guarantee. His with-ness will not waver and His faithfulness will not fail. Right here, in the land of the living. Even in the storm, there can still be a rainbow. ⁣ “I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” (Psalm 27)⁣ ⁣ If this was for you today, would you comment with 🌈 or 💛? It would be my joy to pray for you by name.
I just kept repeating it all weekend long… while I just kept repeating it all weekend long… while waiting at red lights and picking up around the apartment, as I moved the laundry and swallowed medicine and laid down because migraines are now part of the regular weekly rhythm. I thought about how there are some things I’m desperately hoping will change—but currently, nothing. And then there are others that I’d love to stay the same—and yet, change. The both/and can be beautiful. It can also be disorienting. Right before graduating college, I held on tightly to this quote: “The seasons change and you change, but the Lord abides evermore the same, and the streams of His love are as deep, as broad and as full as ever.” - Charles Spurgeon I passed the tree I know will soon blaze fire engine red, a glimpse of glory here for a breath and then gone with the wind, and I spoke the long-loved quote aloud in my empty car while driving familiar roads in a city I’ve called home for 14 years. I thought about how much this place has grown and changed, and how I have too. We’ve seen a lot of seasons here, this city and I. Some have clear beginnings and endings, but mostly it’s little by little, day by day, a slow shift into the new. Mostly it’s the tension of both/and, like the autumn leaves above + green grass below + the dark of winter at 4:52pm + short sleeves in November because it’s still 80 degrees. Some things aren’t changing and we wish they would. Some things are changing and we wish they wouldn’t. Maybe you’re navigating a new, blurry normal. Maybe you’re waiting for what’s next. Either way, may this truth be manna for today: The shift might be slow, the season long, and the both/and disorienting, but there will be life on the other side. Creation will lead the way. And so today, I look up and try to fix my eyes on something I can’t yet see in its fullness. I snap a picture in faith that it’ll one day be proof I was actually staring at a promise, a miracle, a constant of Good and True and Faithful right there in the twist and turn and change of it all. The Lord abides evermore the same. Change is constant, but God, thank God, is consistently unchanging. We are loved in every season. 🍂❄️🌱☀️
Thank God for God, the last line is the thread run Thank God for God, the last line is the thread running through. 🥹 We the people are fractured and divided, but we the children of the Kingdom are forever secure. Presidents and policies will pass away, but there is a Kingdom that remains, and so we have every reason to be filled with hope. Not a flimsy hope that comes and goes, but one that holds because we are forever held by the One who, even now, is seated on the throne. May we rest in that truth and may we seek the flourishing of the place where we live (Jeremiah 29:7). In the words of Dr. @lucretiaberry, “May we be people of peace, with voices of hope, doing the hard work of love.” Our actions matter. Our words in both conversations and comment boxes will leave a legacy. After all, here we are in 2024 and the Christian women of the second century are still speaking, a truth that holds through the ages: the Kingdom will not be shaken. May we listen with kindness, love well, and live with hope and deep joy. May we remember: The story is still being written, but we already know the end. - - - This is a portion of my latest (in)courage article. To read the entire thing (along with words about realizing I was assigned the day before the election/scrapping the piece/the sticky note I’ll be staring at all day) go to kaitlynbouchillon.substack.com/p/remember-this-when-tension-rises May we remember the legacy of the women of the ancient church. May we be sobered and strengthened as we listen to the message they spoke with their very lives. May we leave a legacy of listening with kindness, loving well, and living with hope and deep joy. May we be comforted by the promise among the pain, the words that remain, and the Kingdom that does not shake. May we pass the fire extinguisher and check in on one another. May we trust that the One who is seated will not be surprised, but He will be faithful. 🫶🏻
In case you need a deep breath right about now… In case you need a deep breath right about now… In case you could use a little beauty to stare at, truth to hold onto, and words to carry through… In case you’d simply like something new to greet you every time your phone lights up with This, That, or The Other in this week of Important Things and Big Feelings… On Tuesday, yes, and likely the rest of the week as we receive alerts and updates while waiting for election results — but also, just, any time. Any day. Because the real-real is that there are other Important Things happening in our own individual lives, too, and they won’t make national news. They still matter. They still hold weight. And so — some words for you and me. For us. Tomorrow morning, something I wrote weeks ago will be live in several places. It won’t be political enough for some; it’ll be too political for others. I was assigned the date of November 4th and my gosh, it felt weighty and daunting. I’ll send it to email subscribers tomorrow, but this weekend, I realized what I myself need right now is something beautiful / true / good to look at all week long whenever I’m tempted to reach for my phone. Whatever new news arrives and lights up the screen, it’ll sit atop something chosen on purpose. And so I pulled together 8 lock screens, 4 that are brand new and 4 that have been tucked away for years but feel timely for today. Comment LINK below and I’ll DM a link to the collection! (I don’t have an automated program doing this, just me, so it might take a minute — but I’ll send as soon as I see your comment!) However you’re entering this week, whatever you’re feeling or carrying, worried about or hoping for, nationally or personally, I hope you know tonight that you are seen, thought of, and loved. P.s. This picture? Absolutely zero edits, absolutely yes I gasped & abruptly stopped in my tracks. As one does. Thank You God for beauty.
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