Eight Months and Counting....

It has been more than eight months—eight months of dealing with loss, finding a new normal, learning how to live again. We have come so far. Yet at times, I feel as if I am standing still, searching for something that I have forgotten. I pray for strength and stability. I pray for God to remove the longing. And I wonder if this emptiness will ever be filled.

The kids are adjusting. Life without their daddy is difficult at best. However, they keep moving forward, either denying or ignoring the reality that is now theirs. Hunter avoids the topic at all costs. Haley lives in constant fear that something will happen to me. And Haden is worried that he will forget. I cry for them. Their loss is magnified by the trauma that accompanied it, which creates a whole new level of complexity in dealing with Woody’s death. Even friends who have lost a parent cannot relate because they did not watch their mom or dad die in such a horrifying way. They did not see their parent start to slip and fall over 100 feet. They did not experience holding that parent on the side of a slippery granite slope while blood spilled into their hands. They did not see injuries too horrifying for words inflicted upon someone whom they loved with every fiber of their being. No, it is difficult to find anyone who understands what they are going through and what they have experienced. Yet, somehow, God is carrying them through it and they are adjusting remarkably well—supernaturally well.

And me? I cannot think about that day. I cannot think about the last time I looked into Woody’s eyes as he slid belly first over the granite slope before falling over the ledge. I cannot think about holding his hand and his head while we waited for the EMT’s. It is too painful. The tears sting my eyes and fall unapologetically every time I do. I miss Woody every day. I miss his laugh, his voice, his touch. I miss the way he loved me. I miss the way I loved him. I miss being a wife. In every scenario I imagined for my future, being a widow was not one of them. Yet, this is the path God has chosen for me, and so I praise Him. Even in my sorrow, I find joy in my Father. He has faithfully carried me through the darkest days and has set my feet upon solid ground. The clouds are slowly fading away and the sun is beginning to emerge. Hope is on the horizon. I will survive. Ever so softly, life has begun to edge its way back into my heart.

Through all of this, one thing has remained clear—God is love! He is merciful and kind. No matter what the future may hold for all of us, He will constantly guard and guide us. We are clearly under His protective wings. God is good, and if anyone had the right to question His character based upon his or her circumstances, it would be me. Nonetheless, I still say God is perfect in all His ways.  And that will always be clear.

2016: A Year of More or Less?

2016. As I sat alone with God this morning, my number one question for Him was, “What do you want from me this year?” I didn’t ask for a better year—more joy, more love, more money—I asked what I might do in order to bring God more glory. You see, I know 2016 has to be better than 2015. One cannot possibly suffer more than I did last year. So, instead of focusing on “more” I am focusing on “less”—less of me, less resistance, less whining.

Isaiah 55 may be one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. It begins with an imperative given by God:  “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” Everything we need is within our grasp! All we need do is go to the source. When we seek Him first we will find more! I know many may look at my life and say, “What do you mean? You sought God first and look what happened to you! You do not have more! You have less!” I know what my circumstances are. I get that sentiment. Yes, from a worldly perspective, I have less—no husband, no father for my children, less money and a smaller house. However, from a spiritual standpoint, we have more—more of God, more faith, more love. And even from a materialistic viewpoint, we are still very blessed! We still have more than 90% of the world. I hate to think how I would have survived this without God. In all reality, I may not have. It was too brutal, too harsh, too much! So, it is easy for me to stand on the cusp of 2016, and resolve to seek God first and ask what He wants from me.

I may never understand this side of heaven why we have endured the loss of 2015; yet I know my vision is obstructed by what stands right in front of me. I cannot see miles into the future and what lies ahead on the path. I cannot see what is waiting for me, but I do know that today is preparing me for what does. Every day I am in training for what God has in store for my future. As Isaiah 55:9 states, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” I’m okay with that. He has never failed me, never forsaken me. And I know that sometime in the future, I will “go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song” before me.  Perhaps that is what waits for me in 2016. And because I know what my future holds, I will ask God, “What do you want from me?”

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.