Grief

My Abba Showed Up Part 1

by Janice S Ramkissoon 
07/31/23
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‘Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.’ (John 5:8-9)

It has been 38 years since being trapped in a tomb of grief. I have been grieving the loss of my childhood and the love I craved from the people who were meant to parent me. I longed for my father to show up but he never did. Without my awareness, I remained trapped in a tomb of grief. I was stuck at ‘Grief Station’ until my Abba showed up and rescued me. I recorded it in my journal as:

Three days ago [21-Feb-2023] my Abba showed up and rolled the stone away. It was a time of rejoicing. It was also a light bulb moment recognising the repetitive cycle I have been on since 1985 when I gave my life to Christ and publicly declared my faith. 

It was the same length of time the man at the pool, in John 5:1-15, waited for His Abba to show up. Recognising the similarity, I took notice and reread the passage of scripture. I can now relate to that story. I have been at grief station far too long. It is now time for me to take up my bed and walk.

How I Arrived At Grief Station

Walking into marriage blind-folded found us lacking the support of family and friends. As a child without a father in my life, we were already without the support of half of my family. Leaving the home and community I grew up in, to join a mother and step-father who later divorced, gave me much to add to my grieving story.

The grief was trapped - buried under the busyness of life and the caring responsibilities that came with being a wife and a mother. Training up our son was solely left to my husband and I.

However, when we moved from London, my husband was still commuting for work as he was now the main breadwinner. Suffice it to say, I was a mother on a mission with very little help. There was no opportunity for any kind of rest, relaxation or restoration of the mind. I was constantly on the go!

Eventually, combining that with volunteering in the church and working outside the home (both part-time and full-time, in different seasons) brought me to a place of burnout. I titled that season, ‘Death by Exhaustion’.

My Abba showed up in the form of a pastor who is also a childhood friend. God used my friend to be the listening ear I needed who validated my pain and gave advice that confirmed what my Abba had dropped in my spirit earlier in the month. 

Three days ago, I was overwhelmed with grief. It had been a year since information about my paternity was revealed. It turned my world upside down!

Today, I am overwhelmed with joy. My Abba showed up and I finally feel heard, seen, understood and validated.

God chose to use my friend who simply listened without interruption, interjecting only at appropriate intervals. He was sent in response to a desperate cry for help. His timely response, having not spoken to him for years, opened the door to begin the healing process.

He listened and allowed me the space and time to talk, releasing the past year of internalised pain [receiving news that turned my world upside down]. He is to date, the first church leader who I felt I could freely share in such an undiluted way, without the risk of him taking offence to what I had to say about ineffective leadership.

He simply listened to my complaints, validated my feelings and was then able to advise me with regards to my next step forward. The advice given was a confirmation of what I had already received in my spirit but struggled to move forward.

Why am I sharing this part of my story?

I needed permission to grieve the loss. I had acknowledged the loss but was never encouraged to grieve the loss. Whenever I showed any signs of weakness, I was rebuked and immediately cautioned with the phrase:

 “You must forgive…”

“Forgive, or your heavenly Father won’t forgive you.”

“Honour thy father and thy mother!”

I grew up in a world where the negative aspects of grieving is frowned upon and therefore, I never learned how to grieve or grieve well. Tears aren’t allowed in the world I grew up in. It is seen as weakness and when you do cry, the response would often be:

 “Dry your tears!”

 “What you crying for?”

 “I’ll give you something to cry about if you don’t shut up.”

At my grandfather’s graveside, I was told:

 “He wouldn’t want you to cry.”  

 “Crying won’t bring him back.”

There are plenty more that could be added but you get the drift.

Angry tones are also not allowed, there is no place in my community for that. One simply does not talk about the wrong done to them or the pain one feels. We simply take the hit and nurse the wound. No need to talk about it.

Therefore, an emotional hill becomes a mountain and issues pile up until there is no clarity. One becomes overwhelmed, frustration kicks in and eventually resentment and a multitude of issues become evident.

 >>>Continues in 'My Abba Showed Up 2'