Hello, Bridgetown Church and those of you joining us online, my name is Bethany Allen and this is the Bridgetown Daily for Thursday, February 11th.

This week I thought about moving, not a way but from the apartment I've been in for the last eight years.

I felt as though I needed a change, something to give, the scenery around me to shift.

Things have felt a bit stale or halted in the area of inspiration for me and a new place I thought would probably do the trick.

I went and looked at this beautiful apartment on Saturday. It was brand new, clean, updated and the view was insane.

I was up for it.

But after running through the logistics, the cost, the idea of moving, I realized that what I was stepping into wouldn't, at least at a few levels, alleviate what was actually happening inside of me.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think a change of scenery has ever hurt anyone.

But what I realized after walking down the path a bit was that a change of scenery wasn't what I was really after.

This year has taxed each of us in many different ways. The loss, even if it wasn't personal to us, has been profound.

And the grief is so layered that it's been hard to even identify.

Its impact, I'm certain, is still lingering beneath the surface somewhere. And while there is certainly beauty to be found, there's also been lots of pain to bear.

What I realized this last weekend is that I'm grieving.

Yes, it feels like we've been grieving for a hundred years. But it seems I'm not quite through. And maybe you're not either.

Things, especially in light of this pandemic, continue to change, work, rhythms of connection, relationships, and even our hopes for what could be constantly shifting depending on the moment.

While grief, at least for me, and I think for many of us, may not look like it does in the movies or on TV, it is still very real.

The sadness, the sense of loss, the numbness and desire to feel.

Merriam Webster's dictionary defines grief as a deep and poignant distress caused by a bereavement. It origins from the word grief to noting injustice or calamity, and from the Latin word, grievous or gravis, meaning heavy.

In essence, grief could be described as a heavy calamitous injustice to our souls.

It's complex and never one dimensional. In it, our systems of relating to God and others in self can get broken.

And it often seems our weaknesses or failings and the realities of the human condition are emphasized.

Grief and loss are intrinsic to the human experience, which begs the question, what does that mean for us? I've been thinking about Paul's words to the church and Rome in light of grief and loss.

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