When you’ve experienced the death of your father, grandfather, cousin, mentor, and multiple friends within a five year span, strength feels like a metaphorical concept that doesn’t really exist. When people point out how strong they think I am, or how strong I must have been at any given time, my first instinct is to refute their claim. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) has become an overused platitude that I hear all the time and I’ve come to resent.
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I saw a comment on my “Grief is Not a Season” on Too Damn Young from an 11-year-old girl named Cliona who had recently lost her dog, Peppy. Cliona said that I might be thinking “it’s just a stupid dog and she’ll get over it.” I wasn’t thinking that at all.
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