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Grief Is Love With No Place To Go
Every river flows into the sea, but the sea is not yet full
We had a routine. And it involved having some milk tea and cookies as we watched the sun go down. We would then scurry into our dark house because the electricity company had load shedding for our area every other day.
Once in the house, we would all huddle close by candlelight and do some activities together. Sometimes, that meant creative storytelling, sometimes it was recounting favorite Bible stories, and other times making animal shapes of the shadows cast off by the light.
My favorite Bible story recount was the one about the “pessimistic Ecclesiastes philosopher,” as we fondly referred to him and teased each other in jest. As a child, I did not understand why his entire philosophy was that life is meaningless.
Here is an excerpt from Ecclesiastes 1: 2–11:
It is useless, useless, said the Philosopher. Life is useless, all useless. You spend your life working, labouring, and what do you have to show for it? Generations come and generations go, but the world stays just the same. The sun still rises, and it still goes down, going wearily back to where it must start all over again. The wind blows south, the wind blows north — round and round and back again. Every river flows into the…
