Tag: death

Grief Has No Timetable

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July 3rd, 2023

Not being able to think of words to pray when I want to reach out to God for help in this season has been hard. I have started to pray, many times, and have fallen into tears because what I really want to ask is something that won’t happen this side of Heaven. Consequently, I can’t even think of words for anything else. I often just pray “I trust you, Jesus” because I know He will deliver me through this darkness. Other than that, few words have come on their own.

The Bible has many prayers and reminders tucked within its pages. But reading is difficult, too. When I try to read any book, it feels like I’m reading something written in a foreign language. It’s like I can pronounce the words but few of them are making sense or I cannot retain the words that are strung together in a sentence long enough to obtain comprehension.

The thing about reading my Bible, though, as opposed to a novel, is that I know what the Bible says about things we go through in life. It says to trust Him, to obey His Word. I can sit down with my Bible and read aloud and know that I am praying His will into my life. If you were to ask me what I just read/prayed, I may say that I’m not even sure, or I may be able to tell you what book and chapter I was reading from but not give you much context at this point. The important thing is that I am speaking His Word, and out loud because His Word holds power on my tongue.

Grief has no timetable. There is no agenda or list of tasks I can mark off. There is no foreseeable end date. There is no future date I can look forward to or count down towards when it will “get easier” because grief does it’s own thing inside each of us and there are many variables. The only thing I have to cling to is the Word of God which tells me He is faithful. From the history of my own life, I can pull specific passages of time that speak to His goodness, His faithfulness, His comfort, and His strength given over to me. By this I know that I will have endurance through this passage of time because He won’t leave me in it alone.

Today, these are just a few of the passages that I have pulled strength from.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4‬:‭6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭31‬:‭6‬, ‭8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“Hear me, Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy. Guard my life, for I am faithful to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God; have mercy on me, Lord, for I call to you all day long. Bring joy to your servant, Lord, for I put my trust in you. You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to you. Hear my prayer, Lord; listen to my cry for mercy. When I am in distress, I call to you, because you answer me. Among the gods there is none like you, Lord; no deeds can compare with yours. All the nations you have made will come and worship before you, Lord; they will bring glory to your name. For you are great and do marvelous deeds; you alone are God. Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever. For great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the depths, from the realm of the dead.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭86‬:‭1-13

This photo of Scott, in a Google Photos slideshow, just popped up this morning right as I was finishing reading in Psalms. I noticed something in the clouds today that I had never seen before in this photo. It reminded me that Scott was also not alone when he left that night. And he knew he wasn’t leaving me alone, either. He wasn’t afraid to go because he knew he would see me soon (in his current understanding of the passage of time) and that He was leaving me with the greatest source of love, protection, strength, and comfort until that time. He knew I’d be held until he could hold me, when we would worship together again. Until then, my love. ♥️🌅

Cartography of Grief

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June 30th, 2023

Someone, I don’t even remember who, told me a few weeks ago that my posts were sounding more positive. I felt a little bit positive, I guess. I thought, okay, maybe I’m getting a handle on this healing thing. I’m doing it.

And I was doing it…theoretically. I was doing it when I felt more positive and I’m still doing it as I feel like I’ve fallen off of a cliff into a pit the size of Texas and as deep as Everest is tall. “Hellloooo (echo, echo, echo)…I’m down here healing.” That’s what they call it. Turns out that healing isn’t all forward motion…who knew?

My counselor told me today not to worry because I’ll “come out stronger on the other side of this.”

People who want to be stronger go to a gym, of their own volition, I might add. I’ve actually been through a LOT of things in my life that people think you’re “stronger” on the other side of. I hated all of them.

We seem to equate the physical pain earned by training for something to that of emotional pain. But what I’m doing has no Olympics, no triathlon medal, no guts and glory. There is no adrenaline rush that kicks in and gives you a rush of endorphins. My friend Tania is a runner and she lost her sweet Daddy last year; I’m willing to bet she would tell you that the two types of pain are nothing alike. There is no comparison.

My traumas have definitely shaped me into who I am but those results haven’t all been good, not “strong.” Wiser? Maybe. Jaded? Probably. Wary? Definitely. Fearful? Sometimes.

But what they also have done is create an empath in me. Every single trauma from my life that pops in my head as I write this is now something that makes me feel deeply for anyone else who suffers the same.

Trauma turned me to nursing. Trauma turned me to walk with broken people. Trauma turned me to ministry opportunities. (If you think ministry only means standing at a microphone in front of a church full of people, you’re wrong; ministry starts in the streets, in your workplace, in your parenting, in your friendships, in your level of kindness to strangers, even those who don’t necessarily share your views on life in general.) Trauma turned me to share my stories so people who feel alone don’t make choices they cannot take back. And even saying that makes me wish, so hard, that I could have been able to help the ones who have made those choices.

The truth is that sometimes what happens in life is not a choice. The truth is that sometimes you don’t get stronger. The truth is that trauma and grief make you weaker, a lot weaker, for a long time before you just get back up to the level of how “strong” you were before. Eventually.

If my past traumas had made me stronger, I wouldn’t be in this pit right now. They would have given me the ability, to just pop right up outside of the valley, right? What they have given me is a knowledge that, even if I don’t feel Him every day right now, God will carry me out the other side. They’ve given me endurance that comes with the knowledge that I’m not in the pit alone even when it’s dark and oh-so-quiet down here.

So, I don’t believe that stronger is what I will be after this. But what I do believe is that maybe I will be able to let someone else see that they won’t live at the bottom of this dark hole forever. One day I will rise from the ashes of this hurt and despair; I’ll find a way to grow around the grief. I will learn to live with it still inside of me but will allow petals to open from inside the dark place they now hide. Somehow. (That is a combination of what we call hope and faith.)

And one day, when someone asks me how you live through this, then maybe I’ll be able to put into words how it works. Or maybe I’ll know just to sit beside them or hold their hand or cry with them so they’ll know someone is there. Or I will know to just let them have some time where I leave them be until they’re ready.

I don’t know how I’ll be able to help someone else later on. I just know that, even though God did not create or cause my pain, He will find a way to help me use it for someone else. In that, I am confident. Today I don’t want to ever have to walk this path with someone else because it feels impossible to do myself, but without a doubt someone will have to navigate it and I know that their pain will resonate with mine; their pain will call mine back out but I’ll be there to answer that call.

I may not ever be stronger. But I will still want to help people heal and maybe I’m drawing my own map right now.

My Best Friend

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June 29th, 2023

My husband was, wholly and completely, truly and honestly, my very best friend in the whole wide world.

Some of you may think that is “co-dependence.” Some may think it’s “a little much.” Others might say I’m exaggerating. If you’re one of these, I’m so sorry (for you) that you don’t understand.

I think that’s how it should be. If something made me happy, he’s the one I would call. If something made me sad, he was the one I’d call. Excited? Him. Lonely? Him. Frustrated. Him. Overjoyed? Him. You get the picture.

I think that is one of the hardest parts. I literally want to call him every single day. Several times. I want to text him. I want to FaceTime him. I want him 𝘵𝘰. 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

I don’t know how to reconcile the healthy, smiling, happy, loving, kind person he was with the one who is 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. How is this even real life??? We should be sitting on the patio, watching the dogs play and talking about Lillian swimming in the pool. We should have eaten dinner together tonight. We should be deciding what to watch on TV before bed. We should just BOTH be here.

Moments like this are really, exceptionally hard to redirect and they attack out of thin air, just materializing with no forewarning. This whole week has been difficult, if I’m being honest. We’re 2/3 into the second month he’s been gone and instead of getting any “easier,” it’s getting more and more REAL.

I don’t want to do this. I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this, this life, without him. I’m older than him. He was in his FORTIES. What makes that fair or right or okay? Nothing. And nothing ever will.

So here, for tonight, this is my reminder. It is a song by Casting Crowns and this song is what fills my head as I type this. “You’re not alone…” because God speaks when my heart is weary and hurting.

If I listen, He will always speak.

(Link to the song is below the lyrics if you would like to hear it. Play it loud just for me.)

“Oh, my soul.
Oh, how you worry,
Oh, how you’re weary, from fearing you’ve lost control.
𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘋𝘐𝘋𝘕´𝘛 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘎
And no one would blame you, though,
If you cried in private,
If you tried to hide it away, so no one knows…
No one will see, if you stop believing.

Oh, my soul,
You are not alone.
There’s a place where fear has to face the God you know.
One more day. He will make a way.
Let Him show you how, you can lay this down.
‘Cause you’re not alone.

Here and now,
You can be honest;
I won’t try to promise that someday it all works out,
‘Cause this is the valley
And even now, He is breathing on your dry bones.
And there will be dancing.
There will be beauty where beauty was ash and stone.
This much I know.

Oh, my soul,
You are not alone.
There’s a place where fear has to face the God you know.
One more day…He will make a way.
Let Him show you how, you can lay this down.

I’m not strong enough! I can’t take anymore!
(You can lay it down. You can lay it down.)
And my shipwrecked faith will never get me to shore.
(You can lay it down. You can lay it down.)
Can He find me here?
Can He keep me from going under?

Oh, my soul,
You are not alone.
There’s a place where fear has to face the God you know.
One more day, He will make a way.
Let Him show you how you can lay this down.

‘Cause you’re not alone.
Oh, my soul, you’re not alone”

Anger is a Vicious Beast

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June 28th, 2023

𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦.

Today is this kind of day.

I’m angry. Not angry AT God but angry because this is the way that it is.

Anger is like a drug. When you’re at the peak, you kind of feel a little better for awhile. Raging over something detracts your attention from the primary emotion you’re feeling, just like drugs soothe the pain at the forefront of every thought process when you’re hurting. The sad seems like it fades just a little bit. But when the drug wears off…that’s when you hit a period of time where you feel worse than before even taking it; the anger doesn’t leave but retreats to the background, the heartbreak pours over you tenfold.

Fortunately, I know that God is bigger than my anger and all of my emotions. I don’t have to try hiding it from Him. Shame, fury, disappointment, fear, sorrow…He can handle them all.

I can rail on about anything and not expect anger back, not expect disappointment, because He created our emotions. Granted, there are a few I wish He had left out but they are what make us human.

I am not my emotions. They don’t define me and they do not control me. I do go through periods of time when they seem to have me in a chokehold (case in point: today) but I trust and believe that my God is bigger than any and all of them at once. When I choose to praise, even if it is angry-sounding, brutally raw praise, He hears me and honors that with relief. It may be a complete, unexplainable peace or it may be small little increments of lessening of the overwhelming part, but He is faithful.

Even in my brokenness, especially in my brokenness, He hears me and there is always a response if I’m seeking Him in what I do. I hope I always have the strength to seek Him, even when I don’t feel like I do. I hope you do, too.

Battery Drain

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June 26th, 2023

I don’t want to go anywhere. I literally just want to sit in this house.

A friend of mine posted this today and I discovered that I am 93% on the side that sucks your energy (overworking is not a problem since I’m not working yet.)

So…lightbulb moment, I guess. I felt like grief, itself, was sucking my energy. Turns out I may be depleting my own by avoiding 87.5% of the energy givers” (Prayer/meditation/mini-devotions and deep breaths are about as far as I get on that list.)

I’m trying to find a way to do better, to feel better. Mind you, this is not a “turn lemons into lemonade” situation. I could squeeze them but there’s no sugar to add so that would be some mighty sour lemonade. Maybe doing some of these things could be baby steps to learning how to move, how to breathe, how to live again.

Maybe you’re grieving, too. Or maybe you’re suffering from depression for a different reason. Is this an eye-opener for you, too?

I’m going to try to do 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 one thing from the Givers list tomorrow. I’ll do my best to do at least three of them but I’m going to call it success if I can do one more than I’ve done today and almost all of the other days. If you are living on the Energy Takers side right now for one reason or another, will you try to add some from the other list tomorrow, too? Then let me know tomorrow if you succeeded?

I’m still having to take this thing one day at a time…honestly, a lot of days one hour at a time. But I will find my way. I know I’m not the only one surviving so I’m not alone and neither are you, even on the days when it feels like it.

It’s Just Who He Was

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June 25th, 2023

I love this photo. We had just found out that we were going to have a granddaughter and since our children are all boys, we were excited about the prospect of having a little girl around (which we would soon find out would be two granddaughters coming within less than a year.)

But as I came across this photo again today, you know what stood out to me?

He was carrying his big, bulky wallet in the pocket of his sport shorts. I had tried to get him to take some stuff out so it wouldn’t be so bulky but he always said he had already “thinned it out” and that anything still in there he just might need. 😆

He hated carrying it in his pocket when he was wearing elastic-waisted sport shorts because, since it was heavy, it kept wanting to pull them down. 😳

BUT, I hated carrying my heavy (also-having-too-much-stuff-in-it) purse around. So when we got out of the truck, he’d always say “You don’t have to carry your purse, baby. I’ve got my wallet.” And I would say, “I can carry your wallet IN my purse if you need it but it’s going to pull your pants down if you carry it.”

He would never agree. He just knew I didn’t like toting my purse around and so he’d argue and take his wallet anyway. Ultimately, I’d just leave the purse in the end. I remember even telling him on this particular store trip “I’m not going to buy anything; we’re just going to look at stuff today anyway.” And he said “I know but I’ll still bring it just in case.”

Spoiler alert: we bought a few things.

Spoiler alert addendum: Scott actually picked out what we got because “She needs this.” And today I don’t even remember what we got that time but I remember that part.

He was always saying “she needs this” but it would be a tiny fishing pole or an entire swing set and I would say, “Baby, we can get it but she won’t need that for a long time…”

He sure did love being a PopPop. I hate it more than I can express that he never got to meet Emory Rose, our grandbaby who is coming later this year. Scott was excited to see the kind of daddy that Jonathan is going to be.

But what I was saying is that THAT’S the kind of man he was for me. I know that carrying his wallet so I didn’t have to carry my purse sounds trivial but he was 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 in so many ways. He was selfless. He was loving. He always put the care and comfort of others before himself. And he just loved and was loyal with his whole heart.

So, maybe in an odd way to anyone else, that lump in his right pocket, pulling the side of his shorts down, reminds me of him a lot. It reminds me of one of the very many reasons that I loved him like I did. And he wasn’t afraid to look like he was wearing a big princess crown. 🥰

Joy Isn’t the Same as Happiness

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June 25th, 2023

I used to love to read.

I’d get caught up in a story and my amazing husband would get aggravated with me because he would want to do something in real life while I was caught up in something fictional and I’d be like “Okay, yes, I know…but just let me finish this chapter, please…I CAN’T stop here…”

I really loved to read.

And now I just can’t love it.

I’ve changed books multiple times. I’ve looked up “books you’ll love if you enjoyed _ (insert name of other book that had captivated me here.)” I’ve started and stopped and started and stopped. Nothing works.

Food is like that, too. I’ve found it somewhat amusing (I guess maybe that’s the word for it) that many of the things that have caused me to nearly have full-on breakdowns have been various food items. Scott and I were definitely foodies so meals took up a good bit of our thoughts and conversations. When we traveled, we used to look up “Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives” to see if they had featured any restaurants in the area where we were visiting and try to go there. My #1 favorite place to go in Miami was Atelier Monnier French Bakery. I’d get an almond croissant (it doesn’t just have almonds on it and in it, it’s a whole experience all its own) and Scott would get a chocolate covered one.

Now food doesn’t taste the same. I don’t long to try fun and exciting cuisine like I used to. My mouth doesn’t water just thinking about…well, anything. I have to force myself to eat a piece of bread with peanut butter just to throw down some protein so that I won’t feel faint…usually after I start feeling faint. And that’s just because I literally don’t think about food until then.

It often feels like the “life” has gone out of life.

I’ve wanted to go to Heaven for a long time. I wasn’t in a rush to get there or anything. I enjoyed being here most times and was (and am) thankful for all that I have here. But I knew that was where I wanted to be after all of this. Before Scott came along, my boys were my Heaven on Earth. They were what tethered me here. Once Scott showed up, he was a big part of that thing that almost felt like Heaven here. I know real Heaven will be so much greater but it’s the closest I could imagine with my human mind. In fact, he made me feel like he’d been what was missing all along. My Missing Piece (a’la Shel Silverstein…if you haven’t read it, you should.)

As I felt the boys doing what we teach kids to do, becoming independent of me, Scott showed me that I was still going to be okay here when they all learned to fly from my cozy nest. I always knew I’d still have my baby boys but I also knew how different life was going to be without the continuity of raising them. Without the busyness of parenthood. Scott got me excited about what the future looked like. We were LOVING having a granddaughter and looking forward to the next one coming. We had BIG plans for what grandparenting would look like but also big plans for so many other things.

There is still a payment plan sitting around waiting for funds to be added again for our belated honeymoon next year. We were going on an all-inclusive vacation out of the country and we were counting down to it. I haven’t even asked yet if they’ll return the money we’ve already sent. I just can’t. That will mean it’s really cancelled. And I don’t want to go but I can’t bring myself to call and cancel it either.

So many of the things I used to want to do, they just don’t hold any spark anymore. They don’t hold joy. I still love being a Lolly (a grandmother) but it is bittersweet so often because he should have been here doing it with me. Lillian and Emory will never even remember him.

God intends for all of us to live abundant lives. John 10:10 says “The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I [Jesus] came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows.)” The thief is the enemy. And he did steal, kill, and destroy successfully. All of it.

But God is still here. He is successful, always, in His own endeavors. Revelation 1:8 says “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End,” says the Lord, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty One.” He was, and is, and is to come. He was here when I was happy. He is here while I mourn. He will be here, with me, until it is time for me to go to Him and worship Him “in person,” and then the bonus plan is that I can see Scott, too.

But God’s desire for me 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 is that my joy may be complete. “I have told you these things, that My joy and delight may be in you, and that your joy and gladness may be of full measure and complete and overflowing.” (John 15:11)

Scott isn’t here anymore, but that doesn’t mean that my joy cannot be complete. (Side note: I worship Jesus; I do not worship Scott as my husband…although I was extremely fond of him. Jesus makes my joy complete. What I mean here is that, without following the plan that God had for my life, my joy would not have been complete, lest anyone misconstrue my intent.) If I had never met Scott (as God designed) then my joy would not have been complete. He was part of God’s plan for my life. I cannot imagine the last ten years of my life without him and, even through the pain of losing him, I’d never want to. Even if I’d known I’d lose him, I would never want to have missed out on what he brought into my life. But even now that he is gone, I will still have joy.

Ephesians 3:20 says “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us,” God has a plan to give us exceedingly abundantly MORE than we ask or think…and, before I met him, I had given up on finding anyone like Scott in my life. God brought me that joy anyway. (And understand that you can have JOY while not actually feeling happy…but that’s another story for another day. And that’s why I say it’s still possible without Scott here.)

For today…it’s after midnight so it is already Sunday, the Lord’s day…I will be grateful for my joy. Our children are part of my joy. Our grandchildren are part of my joy. Scott was part of my joy. And somehow, although I cannot see a glimmer of it yet, my future on this Earth is part of my joy.

What Kind of “Vert” Am I?

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June 24th, 2023

My whole life, I’ve wondered what kind of “vert” I am. Just stay with me for a minute…

Growing up, I always felt like an introvert but had to act like an extrovert if I wanted to ever have friends; I was an Air Force brat and we moved every 2-3 years. I needed to be able to make friends.

Once I get to know someone, they’ll tell you I could talk their ear off. Someone who is excessively loquacious (hush, it sounds better than “chatterbox” or “too talkative” and I’ve been called all of them) instantly makes people think extrovert. But that’s not who I am until I feel comfortable around you. If I talk a lot around you, consider yourself lucky…just kidding; some would say that’s a curse.

So I guess I thought I must be an extrovert most of my life because that’s what everyone else assumed I was.

People think introverted people can’t get on a stage and sing because they don’t like attention. But I don’t have to really talk to anyone to do that.

They think that leadership skills makes you an extrovert. (Don’t tell your little girls they’re bossy; they have leadership skills.) Maybe it does. I don’t always want to be a leader but I get frustrated if no one is leading and keeping things moving properly so I will step up and handle things if I need to. I don’t know what that trait makes me.

What I was getting to, I guess, is that right now I don’t just feel like an introvert. I feel like a hermit. The counselor called it social anxiety disorder. It is likely temporary but it makes life difficult.

I wish Walmart was open all night like before C*VID because I would go at midnight to avoid seeing people and having to talk to them. People text me and want to call or come over but I stress out over what I’m going to say to them. How silly is that?

But everyone says “So, how are you doing?” And that is ABSOLUTELY a normal thing to ask. There is NOTHING wrong with that! But I don’t know how to answer it. Do I say “I’m okay.” Because I’m not okay. I don’t feel “okay” at all. I feel like my world was ripped apart and no one has the glue to repair it…but I can’t tell people that.

Grief is uncomfortable for people. When it’s not your grief, it’s uncomfortable because of two things.

A.) What if it was your grief??? What if this happened to you??? Oh, dear God, what if it was you? How would you live through this? How is it survivable? (Trust me, I felt this exact same way when my sister lost her son just barely over two weeks earlier!)

B.) What do you say? How can you help? Nothing is going to make it better so how can you just not make it worse??? What phrases are “off limits” because they WILL make it worse? (We understand. You’re right; nothing will make it better and words can’t help. And we also understand our own sensitivity to words and phrases you may say. The thing is, nothing actually makes it 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 either. It’s just 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 all by itself. Everything just feels “worse” right now.)

So, no, I don’t want to say that I’m not okay to anyone. They feel better if I just say “I’m doing okay.” And I’m alive and breathing so it’s not like I’m technically lying. “Hey…I’m okay over here. I’m good. I’ve got this…”

And listen, I’m going to survive this. I haven’t “got this,” but somehow I know I’ll survive it. It SUCKS, but I’m going to survive it. Don’t call for a welfare check. But just because I’m surviving doesn’t mean I just feel all hunky dory.

It’s OKAY that your life keeps moving and things go back to normal for you; he wasn’t your person. I totally get it. It’s okay. YOU’RE okay. And that’s good.

But please don’t just expect mine to go “back to normal.” There is NOTHING normal about this life over here. Nada. Nix. Nuh-uh.

And that whole “new normal” that everyone keeps talking about is a bunch of hogwash. I get it that you want me to find a “new normal” but I HATE what that is theoretically supposed to look like. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. I don’t want to just build a new normal around the idea that he is not here. Around the idea that he will NEVER be here. How am I just supposed to make everything normal without him in my picture. It was its own version of “normal” before I knew him but it will never be the same now that he is gone.

I’m guessing that, at some point, I’ll just make a new picture. The thing about that picture is that I see it like one of those photos where someone is still there but kind of faded, like when people make them sort of transparent for the photo because they’re gone? You know? Because I do want to be able to be happy, truly happy, again one day. I HATE FEELING LIKE THIS BUT I CAN’T JUST STOP. Who I am will always have a piece of Scott. I truly am who I am today because he became an integral part of me.

I believe in true love because of him. I believe in soulmates because of him. I believe in real men existing because of him. I believe in grace existing in people and not just in God because of him. I believe in chivalry still being alive and well because of him. 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮. That’s a lot, right? You probably didn’t know that part.

So…

Maybe being an introvert or an extrovert is fluid. Maybe you’re not born one or the other but you become who you are, how you are, what you are, because of what you’re going through. Maybe being an “ambivert” who can go back and forth isn’t such a foreign concept, after all.

And I’m still going to say that, whoever I am, through it all, God knew before I was “a twinkle in my daddy’s eye” that I would be exactly that person at precisely that time. He was prepared to be with me and walk me through it. I go through periods of time when I feel 100% alone (and even want to be) but I know 100% that I am not. He is with me withersoever I goest. He’s here. I’m more grateful for that than I can express in words…imagine that for an “extrovert.”

I may be lonely and still not even want to be around people, but I am not actually alone.

Reality is an Evil Houseguest

Published on by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

June 22nd, 2023

I thought I was figuring this thing out.

I thought that I was really trying to get myself to see the truth. That it is real and that he’s actually gone. Forever, from this world. I thought this because, in the numb place that I often seem to live, I would say to myself “Jen, this is real life. He isn’t coming back. He won’t just walk in the door. This isn’t just a dream.”

How can someone who was so ALIVE and so consistent, and so steadfast just be GONE? Disappear. How?

As if truly believing it would check off some box in a list of necessary chores in order to reach ultimate healing, I tried to persevere in my quest to find “healing” from these wretched battle wounds. As if it meant I had risen one more rung on the ladder that would lead to my being capable of living again.

I was wrong.

There is no ladder, no list. They tell you about the stages of grief but they’re not sequential and they’re not one trip only. They’re just willy-nilly, all over the place and there is no structure to them at ALL!

But the strangest part is that, although I consciously thought I was trying to figure it all out, to definitively make progress, it was all a ruse. My brain was somehow playing a double agent. What a crock.

Apparently, my subconscious has other plans for a surprise reveal all on its own. I feel like I am on one of those makeover shows. “Here comes the new you! Hope you like it! But if you don’t, TOO BAD. What’s done is done! Enjoy! Annnnnd, heeeeere’s Jennifer!”

For the last couple of days, I can’t really explain it properly in words, but I have been feeling The Truth about my life and my future trying to break the door down. It’s like certain smells (especially), music, things I’ve seen are trying to push through and devastate me with some big news. It feels like standing at the precipice of a giant cliff, leaning back as far as I can, and swirling my arms madly, backwards and in circular motion, to keep from going over the edge. It feels like a knobby, old, gray hand with long, ragged fingernails is flexing around a slightly open door and trying to push inwards as I lean, with all of my strength, against the door to keep it closed.

STOP!!! No!!! I don’t want to know! Don’t tell me! I like this numb, fantasy world better! STAY OUT!!!

And yet I thought I was trying to “make progress” by letting it in…

…

I know that, at some point, The Truth will cross that threshold and it won’t be gently. It will be in spectacular fashion, crushing me beneath the heavy door and the door frame as it crashes and pummels its way in. It will be far from painless. It will be devastating.

Somehow I know that the sadness and loss I have felt so far is minuscule, insignificant, microscopic compared to what The Truth will bring as it breaches my consciousness.

As I now fight off the entering darkness, it is a strange feeling. I thought I wanted “progress” in this grief journey, to move ahead toward healing and some sensation of “normality”.

What it is instead resembles a severe burn patient who knows that the time for debridement is coming nigh and that this is the only way forward but is a treacherous, painful, horrific pathway to submit to just for “healing”. What scars will I be left with when it’s over? Will people even know it’s still me? Can I survive the onslaught of misery that comes with it?

There is another Truth that is alive and well, though. It is the Truth that matters and Scott is already viewing His countenance.

The Way. The Truth. The Life.

No other truth surpasses the importance of this Truth. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

So, again, I turn to the only place my help comes from. Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy (Ps 61:1-3). He brought me up out of a horrible pit [of tumult and of destruction], out of the miry clay and He set my feet upon a rock, steadying my footsteps and establishing my path. (Ps 40:2)

This song is an old one, from when we lived in Saudi Arabia and had private worship in people’s homes, when we weren’t allowed to have church. It still sticks with me when I need it.

“Oh, Lord, in the morning, will I direct my prayer unto Thee and will look up.”