Our Wedding Anniversary

It’s 2:00 a.m. I thought I was finished reaching over to your side of the bed searching for the warmth of your body. But here I am. My hand glides across the cool sheet finding emptiness, and I remember. Today is our wedding anniversary—a day we would have celebrated with joy as we did every year. We realized the value in celebrating another year of dedication. Marriage is work! It doesn’t just “happen.” We both understood this concept better than most. We had toiled through years of drought and plenty to glean the harvest we were finally reaping.

You loved to celebrate. I wonder how we would have celebrated our day. Last year we spent the weekend in Chapel Hill. You surprised me with a new wedding ring to replace the one that I had lost. “Let’s hope I don’t lose this one, or at least not for another 20 years!” I teased. We laughed. We loved. We lived. You were my joy and my security. You made every day a celebration. I knew how blessed I was to commemorate another year of marriage with you. You asked me once again where I wanted to go to mark our 20^th wedding anniversary. We decided on New Zealand. You loved to celebrate, but you loved “us” even more.

Today will not be a celebration, but I will remember—I will remember a lifetime of love built on a foundation of faith. I will honor you by continuing to push through the pain and find laughter. I will survive. Although half of my heart died May 10, 2015, I must live on. I will find joy in our children and the memories you gave.

Happy anniversary…well, not happy, but it is not cheerless. I miss you, but I am so grateful for the love we shared. I will never forget.

For now, my life may feel as if I am reaching into the empty darkness, yet I know I am not alone. God has carried me every step of the way and today will be no exception. Perhaps someday the pain will subside enough that I will find a way in which to mark our anniversary once again with laughter and love. For now, I just need to breathe and remember to live.

Now Is Not the Time to Enlighten Me with Some Profound Truth or Theological Argument

Now is not the time to enlighten me with some profound truth or theological argument. Although there are times for such things, true wisdom is recognizing when. When someone is grieving, all she truly needs is a sympathetic ear and a word or two of encouragement. Please do not use this time as an opportunity to flaunt your philosophical prowess. This has nothing to do with you. Yes, I understand your intentions are good, but tremendous destruction has been wrought in the name of “good intentions.” Look at the crusades or the Spanish Inquisition if an example is needed. If your desire is to truly bring me comfort and you haven’t the words to speak, then don’t. Sometimes solace can be found in silence.

I have been guilty in the past of causing such sorrow with ill-fitted words. Reflecting back on things that I have said, I can now see how insensitive my words were. How I wish I could go back and clutch those words out of the air and swallow them whole before they had the opportunity to inflict more pain upon the hearer! We are too quick to speak. Why? Because we are too prideful. We includes me. I am not immune to this crime. You may be thinking, “No, it was not pride which moved me to speak.  It was the Holy Spirit who requires me to speak truth.” But let me ask you this:  does God kick us when we are down? Yes, I know there are times when He allows us to walk through deep valleys, but would He knowingly speak words that would wound one of His children even more? When your child is in pain, do you offer words of comfort or do you take that moment to speak “truth” that will deepen the sorrow? God is a good Father—a far better parent than you or I will ever be!

I am hurting enough. I should not have to use my rapidly depleting supply of energy to defend a truth that God has given to me during this time. I have clung to Him desperately seeking Him in every waking hour. But even more importantly, before this tragedy ever struck, I sought Him—I developed a lasting relationship with Him. This intimacy was not built in a moment of tragedy, although it has been deepened immensely. The relationship I have with God was built on years of seeking Him first. And now His words are the only words which have brought me true healing. God has revealed things to me that He may not have revealed to you because it has not been necessary. You have not walked through something so harrowing.  Your interpretation of God’s word may be more clinical where mine is painfully raw.  Please try to understand that until you have literally walked in my shoes, you cannot understand God’s word and love the way I do. That is not a prideful statement. I paid the price for that wisdom.  Having this sort of intimacy with God comes at a price that most would not be able to survive.

Give me time to grieve. God will bring me healing, but it may not be on your time table. It may be a year from now when you are wondering to yourself, “Shouldn’t she be over this?” and yet I will still be painfully broken. If it is uncomfortable for you to witness, then don’t. I get it. As a society in general, we do not do “awkward” well. I will survive this because God has protected me from the full force of the blow. He will not allow this dreadful experience to destroy us; and someday I may once again be ready for your words of wisdom and theological arguments.  Someday, just not today….

Grief

Sometimes I cannot escape it. It grabs me by the throat with icy fingers and squeezes while stabbing my heart with shards of glass. I cannot breathe; the pain is excruciating. I feel as if an elephant is sitting on my chest.  I panic and begin to hyperventilate. The reality--the finality--of my loss is suffocating and too frightening to bear.

Grief. It is an ugly beast that threatens the lives of those who survive. It is predatory in nature. It stalks its victim tirelessly, waiting until its prey is weakened by fatigue and sits for a moment to rest. Then it strikes with deadly accuracy. There is no escaping this monster. There is no hiding. Eventually, it finds those it seeks and reeks havoc in the heart and mind. It is inescapable, though many try through various methods to escape its deadly clutch, they only prolong the inevitable. Grief will have its prey.

I will eventually wade through this ocean. God carries and comforts me each and every step of the way. When I find that I have succumbed to my attacker, God wrestles the beast for me and provides hope for the future. For now, the journey is darkened by storm clouds that seem infinite; but at some point the clouds will break and the sun will shine on my face again.