Are you familiar with the commercial that states, “Life comes at you fast.”? That’s how I have felt these past several weeks. Where have the last two months gone? How did we go from March to May and it barely seems I’ve blinked a dozen times. If you tell me that’s what happens as you age, I’m going to throw something at you!
Since I last wrote I have taken a trip to Chicago, benefited from Secret Church (www.disciplemakingintl.org/secretchurch/) celebrated Easter, spent a girls weekend with friends old and new, participated in National Day of Prayer, enjoyed another Mother’s Day with my family and will soon have the privilege of serving storm victims in Alabama. I have had wonderful and busy weeks and am grateful to God for such blessings.
These events have been fun yet, I must admit, I still miss Eric in all of them. I am no longer consumed with grief and am not paralyzed with sadness; there’s just an ache, an emptiness when he is not there to be a part of things and share in the thoughts of my heart.
A few of my friends have recently begun a walk down this road of grief – a road that is unpredictable and individual. Special days, old habits, favorite chairs or articles of clothing all bring a rush of emotion that is sometimes exhausting to deal with. (Psalm 6:6) We wonder if things will ever feel right again and when will there not be a sadness that is as deep as an ocean.
How are we managing to follow normal routine when nothing is normal? What is the proper time frame to not cry any more? 6 weeks? 6 months? After the first year? Are we crazy or depressed if we are outside the ‘normal’ reaction? Why do we want to throw something across the room and hide in bed at the same time? Is there an answer for why this happened? Are we allowed to ask that question?
Grief is a roller coaster ride but you don’t know when the switch will be pulled to send you on a spiral or racing down hill at breakneck speed. Experiencing it allows you to empathize with others it but doesn’t enable you to ‘fix’ it for them. The best thing we can do is remember God understands and is compassionate. (Exodus 34:6) He loves us, and those we have lost, more than we can imagine. (I John 4:8) He’s not a philosophy or a self-help step but a living, breathing Savior who sees each tear we cry – even those stuck deep in our heart.
He is also faithful and will walk with us all the way through the storm. He’s not going to leave us behind because we’re going too slowly and He won’t throw in the towel because we aren’t doing it right. (Hebrews 13:5) His love will go the distance with us. His love will hold us tightly, breathe new life into our soul and give us true joy once again. That kind of love is amazing. I am awed by it.
This month I had a granddaughter attend her first formal dance and two other grandchildren register for kindergarten. I have completed tasks, taken on new ones and still have old ones to finish. The weather has been warm and cold, dry and wet, sunny and cloudy. We have celebrated and mourned. There has been energy and tiredness. Not much in life is constant – change is inevitable; some welcomed, some not. I’m so very glad Jesus loves me through it all.
The cords of death entangled me,
the anguish of the grave came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the LORD:
“O LORD, save me!”
Be at rest once more, O my soul,
for the LORD has been good to you.
For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling, Psalm 116:3,4,7,8
JEV 