Goliath, the Red Sea and Grief

Happy New Year! I realize I am a couple of days late but I ALWAYS have the greatest intentions. You know, kind of like thinking I posted a few weeks ago to realizing it was October!! Arrrggghhh!! I really need to manage my time and thoughts better. But in my defense a lot has happened and a lot has changed, which is actually what led me to this post.

I wake up and I’m still here, every day. As I have mentioned in previous posts, at first I didn’t want to wake up any day. I wanted to be with David. Each morning, I remember starting to wake up and hoping I would open my eyes in Heaven. I remember the disappointment I felt at having to face another day without him, but I did it. I never begged God to take me, I never did reckless things trying to die, I wasn’t suicidal. The best I can describe it was hopeful: just hoping I would wake up in the arms of David, whatever that looked like. As time went on, I woke up everyday without him but I still woke up. So eventually, probably about eighteen months in, I realized I was going to be waking up every day for a while so let’s make the best of it. And I did, I started trying to figure out my life. I don’t remember the process because so much of the last three years blur together like crayons melting in the sun. All the colors fading to black while I am trying to separate them and create a new, colorful life!! I really thought that I would magically wake up one day to a shining light with a booming voice saying “Here is your purpose, go forth and make it happen.” And nope, I just woke up every day still here and working through it.

Eventually I began to realize that the old me is still in there somewhere, under layered blankets of the me I was becoming. God has a purpose for me being here and the longer I try to figure it out the less I was doing about it. I would love to insert here that I hit my knees, prayed hard and we came to an understanding and clarification. But the fog brain that sends me in circles and makes me think I've posted since October is the same fog that allows me to feel God’s presence but not hear His voice. I can have a thought about my new purpose and I'll feel a nudge in the right direction but I can’t hear Him. Or I can feel David’s encouragement that I miss so much, but I can’t hear him either. Or maybe I haven’t wanted to hear because I am safe and comfortable holding on to what is no longer there, like trying to grab a cloud when the sun is begging to shine.

I am three years into my grief and I realize I don’t have it in me to just exist. In so many ways I want to get on with my life and in so many other ways the guilt of putting my grief in its place is overwhelming. So I finally let go and had a long overdue talk with God. And He was eagerly waiting. It started with a bible study I saw posted on Facebook that suggests you start with praying five things each day. But I felt that I had to have a conversation with God first about where my life is and where it is going. I laid it all out, what it felt like to be me, how I longed to do His will but I just don’t know where to start, how I don’t want to let David go but I want to have a purpose again. And when I humbled myself I could hear God. And I already knew what He would say...

God has not been the main focus in my life for the last three years and that’s okay. But if I want to find my purpose, He has to be the focus. What He revealed to me is this: Before grief, when I pictured going to Heaven I would stand in awe of my Lord and Savior, in his presence, until He wrapped me up in His loving arms and welcomed me home. And I was at peace. But that is not how it is now. My vision during grief is reaching Heaven and David is waiting, and I slowly walk to him, only focused on him. He takes my hands and we just stare into each other’s eyes, and all is right again. Don’t get me wrong, it is a great goal and a peaceful feeling. But my grief is a barrier between me and God. My vision should be standing in awe of my Lord and Savior until He wraps me in his loving arms. THEN I see David, and the Lord puts my hand in his for all of eternity. Either way I will end up with David but what I could lose is my future, earthly purpose to serve God until that time. I know God is right (of course He is right!). You see, David is the cloud. Not a dark rain cloud but a beautiful cloud that hovers over me. One I cannot catch but I can see, floating freely in the air. And the Lord is the sun. Waiting to shine in all its glory on my life, when I am done trying to catch the cloud.

So I realized my grief is Goliath. I am standing before a giant that is going to destroy me and I just stand there, rock in hand, not wanting to throw it. I know my life will change as well as the lives of everyone I affect but I do not want to throw that rock. I have not wanted to defeat the Giant, I have wanted him to destroy me. But no more, I want a life again and the only way that will happen is to throw that rock. Does that mean life will be easy now? Of course not, it just means I am conquering what is keeping me from moving forward.

My grief is also the Red Sea and I am standing on the shore. I am looking at the waters that will consume me and I hesitate to call out for help. I hesitate because that shore is so familiar and safe and everything I know. Even though I know I will surely perish, I have wanted to stay here, with my pain and suffering. But then I realized I do not have to call out, God has been standing on the shore with me, holding my hand, and waiting for me to whisper, “I am ready.” Or maybe the parting of the Red Sea was the start of my journey. And I have been wandering in the deserts of grief until it was time for me to find true hope. And with a tear clouded smile, I believe I have found hope again. Having come to this realization, I will go forth and make the best of my life. I will spend time in my grief but I will not live there.

Please understand that grief is a process, a long process, and no two people grieve the same. I am in no way encouraging anyone to cut their grief short or skip it altogether. This is my story of grief and where I am, not where you are expected to be. I will continue to grieve, probably for the rest of my life, but I will no longer put it above God’s purpose. I will no longer let it consume me or control me, for I am not wired that way. And somehow, somewhere I can feel David silently pushing me forward. Pushing me to believe in myself, to chase the dreams I had before grief, to take a leap of faith and to know that I will not fail when my eyes are upon God.

If you are stuck in grief, please reach out. If you are new to grief, know there’s hope, even though it doesn’t feel that way now. And if you are at the crossroads between grief and purpose, you don’t have to choose one or the other. You simply have to choose which one to control your life and which one takes second place. And as hard as that is, it is going to be okay!