This has been a lot harder than I thought. It’s been nearly four months since my last blog. Five since Dad passed. I told my husband recently that normally I function as three people. I thrive on productivity. But, that in this season anyway, I feel as though I’m functioning as half of one person. Half my normal self. I’m more easily overwhelmed, more tired, a little foggy at times, and frustrated with myself at how long this grief journey is taking.
Shouldn’t I be further along by now? Why isn’t my faith working like I think it should? How long before I can get back to business as usual? I’m told all of these are common responses to the death of a loved one. That time is not the healer of wounds. God is.
The reality is: this isn’t life as usual, nor will it ever be. Dad is no longer here and I must learn a new normal. And be more gracious with myself. As gracious and understanding as I would be with anyone else.
Dad’s yellow bowl
Someone asked what happened to the yellow bowl (see previous blog, “Losing Dad”). I now use it in the frig for hard-boiled eggs. It’s a happy pop of color in the morning and, yes, a nice reminder of Dad. There are other reminders, too. As Carpenter Husband is the only one who really fit Dad’s clothes, and they both love the outdoors, he now wears them. Often. A blessing to both of us. Likewise, my son-in-law was the lucky one who fit Dad’s shoes and returned from California with several pairs. Merrell boots and sneakers, an expensive pair of brown leather dress shoes, and some black leather loafers. A sweet provision as they had to get rid of a lot of their shoes in the fire (see blog entitled, “When Mom Becomes Grandma”).
We all divvied up several of Dad’s vast CD collection. Vintage vinyl, too. Oliver may not get to know his Great Grandpa, but he will surely know his music, already bobbing his head and clapping his hands to the beat.
Some days I can listen. Other days not.
I watched one of Susie Larson’s teachings on Facebook as she quoted Steve Arterburn…“The great epidemic of the church today is unresolved grief.” My GriefShare group facilitator is a counseling pastor. Applauding the courage it takes just to show up, he described the difference between bison and cows…
My GriefShare workbook
“When they sense a storm is coming”, he explained, “bison run toward it, while cows run away from it.” In so doing, bison shorten the duration of their exposure to the storm. They experience less intensity for less time as the storm rolls by more quickly. Cows, on the other hand, by running away from the storm, actually lengthen their exposure to it. They feel the harsh affects of the storm for a longer period of time.
And so I make like the bison running toward the storm…sitting with the Lord, feeling through the fog, and contending with my grief the best way I know how along with others in a similar season. I hope my periodic posts on Facebook have proved useful to those also acquainted with grief. This grief and the impact it has had, has surprised me like no other.
Cheri’s coffee mug
As always, the scriptures are a comfort. John 11:33 especially. Upon speaking with Lazarus’ sisters following their brother’s death, Jesus wept. And He weeps with us still, shares in our sorrows, and gently brings healing, even new life, in His time.
A little excerpt from my Streams in the Desert devotional states, “Sorrows come to stretch out spaces in the heart for joy.” I am believing this by faith. In the meantime, I’ve become a coffee drinker. It only took fifty years (you can read that blog, too, “Turning Fifty”). I haven’t included blog links because I forget how to do it and the notion of re-learning is, you guessed it, simply overwhelming for me at the moment.
But, the coffee? Yes, I find it quite comforting. Surprisingly so, in fact. One of the unexpected perks of marriage: Carpenter Husband came with a Keurig. And I have no problem adding the hazelnut cream. You might call it good self-care.
In closing, as some of you may have seen, I’ve recently returned from a writer’s retreat that proved fruitful. I had feared I’d do nothing but cry the whole time and leave disappointed. But, before I even began, I consecrated the time to the Lord for whatever He would purpose, and He allowed a healthy combination of both crying and writing. Sometimes at the same time.
I promise there’s new music coming. I hope it will be worth the wait. Please be patient with me while I sort all of this out. Looking forward to all God has in store. He’s full of surprises.
Love to each of you. I treasure your friendship.
Grace and more grace…
Cheri