Being in communication with God months after Richards death, through the tears and nightly anguish, was also a creative experience. I noticed more. I read more. I wrote consistently. I did not rush. I stayed calm. I felt peace. I find that amazing, looking back. In all my astonishment of what had happened, I was not dumfounded. I could still function. I could still feel and I could still accept Gods astounding grace to see me through. Oh, dont get me wrong--I also walked a million miles around my living room in the midnight hour and slammed a thousand doors when questions assembled like warriors marching to war. I was a warrior, too, fighting battles I never thought I could win. I had well-worn paths that I simply had to return to over and over again. I had to work it through. I arranged flowers at the grave site. I stood in the mud at the cemetery. I kept returning over and over. But, a firm, steady hand kept leading me forward. I simply had to follow His guiding presence. The Creator did not leave me circling the wagons. He did not leave me in the desert. For, even in all my bewilderment and the perplexity of my path, and sometimes hanging on by a thread--my communication with God held strong and God adorned me with a certain beauty that surrounded me. Something unexplainable to man, but definitely a certain peace, personified. By claiming my grief, there have been lessons learned.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Oct 2013 19:34:18 +0000
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