I’ve been lucky, really – I’ve never lost someone from my closest circle. But I’ve seen the heartbreak up close, felt a glimpse of it as friends and loved ones navigate their own grief. It’s a messy, often unpredictable journey, and there isn’t a “right” way to go through it. Some people grieve outwardly, showing the world their pain. Others put on a brave face, even while their hearts ache. Our society, and even the church sometimes, doesn’t know what to do with mourning. We’re quick to offer words like “they’re in a better place,” or “rejoice in the Lord,” but rarely do we allow the space to sit in the sorrow.
Take the Time is my attempt to honour that space. I wanted to create a place where it’s okay to feel anger, frustration, even distance from God when loss feels unbearable. Grief doesn’t follow a timetable, and it shouldn’t have to.
There’s comfort in knowing that even in Scripture, especially in the Psalms, people wrestled openly with God, crying out in frustration and sorrow. They weren’t always grateful or composed – they were raw, heartbroken, and sometimes angry. And if it was allowed for them, it’s allowed for us too. So if you’re grieving, if your heart is heavy, I hope Take the Time gives you the freedom to sit with that pain, to let the tears come. It’s okay to take all the time you need,
From the start I envisioned Take the Time with a sparse arrangement to reflect the solitude and depth of grief. The piano part, played so delicately by Mark Edwards, flows like waves along the shore – echoing the ebb and flow of sorrow itself. I knew I wanted the warmth of a cello to accompany it and the part that Keiko Ying wrote and plays brings a haunting, vocal-like depth to the piece, expressing the emotions woven into the lyrics with beauty and sensitivity. The last part to be added to the mix was Rachel Wilhelm’s ethereal vocals. When I first heard them I was struck by their haunting quality, especially during the instrumental section. I think together these elements create a soundscape that reflects the rawness and vulnerability of taking the time to truly feel and process grief.
Take The Time
Morning mist is rolling off the sea
As I look out and wish that you were here with me
Salt is in the air and running down my cheeks
As I remember you
Gone too soon, like vapour on the breeze
Spare me the gratitude
Words of comfort cannot heal a wound this deep
When only you could ever make it better
I’m not moving on
I’ve only just begun to grieve
I’m only just learning how to breathe again
Believe again
So I’ll take the time
As sorrow crashes down upon this heart of mine
To remonstrate against the one who’s love divine
Feels so far away
I’ll take the time to let the tear drops fall
© Olwen Ringrose 2024