December 29-OKAY. I’ve stared at this keyboard a hundred times in the last few days; in the most broken moments I’ve usually ran towards it to pour my heart out and let that release become a healing that spread ripples across an ocean to others feeling my pain without an ability to communicate it. But, we were all the same this time...speechless. I watched as my newsfeed was filled with the broken cries of new widows and old alike struggling with a pain I had never felt before and couldn’t even begin to explain. But, I can today. It’s a dull pain; one that becomes your home in the same strange way that they had…they left, and the pain is a reminder that the love you had was real. If that’s your only indicator; you might hold onto it for too long and let it destroy you. But no one gets to dictate your grief journey...no one has to walk it. It’s not defined by your strength against it, but by your strength WITHIN it. It’s okay to not be okay. I woke up on Christmas morning with our beautiful bundle of wonderful next to me; blonde haired, clad in festive jammies...the house was just waiting for the sound of crumpled paper to hit the floor. My mom had suggested I stay at her house the night before; “you’re welcome here, it might be easier.” It probably would have been, but there’s something about me that dives into confronting those moments when I might be hit the hardest...I know God is with me in the battle: defending me, protecting me, surrounding me, and FIGHTING for me. So I keep diving in...and He keeps being there at the bottom of the deep end to carry me up for air. I washed my face, turned on Pandora, lit a candle, and waited for Kherington to wake up as I made myself a cup of coffee. It was still Christmas...still beautiful...still worth celebrating...and even though it was different...it was ours. We opened gifts, ate breakfast, giggled, and snuggled, then got ready and finished our Christmas with family. Honestly, I had never really worried about Christmas day...but a part of me dreaded what came after. I sat on my mom’s couch as 12:01 December 26, 2014 showed up on my phone...without thought, tears welled up in my eyes and a flood of memories came rushing like a river. He and I...the way my voice cracked as I called family to let them know we were going to Hospice; the way he held my hand in the van on the drive over as his eyes promised me that it was okay that in that moment I wasn’t. I asked for the room furthest down the hall. We took the tour and decided we’d stay for 2 nights so his pain could be controlled. We stayed for 19. I watched Christmas decorations come down from the corridors of Hospice, celebrated the beginning of 2014 alongside him, and didn’t leave the building for the last 14 days we were together. When I finally left…a piece of me stayed. My mom held my hand as I covered her couch in tears and asked God to meet me in my moments of brokenness...this first was and is hard...because in my mind everything after it feels like a countdown to the ONE, January 13th. “I know it feels like you’re moving further from him, as life here goes on...but because of the promise of Heaven...you’re actually moving closer to him.” Those words, sent by one of my best friends late that night made all the difference. A perspective shift in less than 15 seconds. I asked God to meet me in my brokenness...and He did. He always does. Sometimes the notification on your phone is just God speaking through the text message of a fellow night owl. “I’m a complicated mess, but there’s beauty woven in between the brokenness. And I’m learning that a wound, can be cleaned and dressed...and hurt no less than the day you were taken too soon. I’m different, how could I ever be the same...I’m different, because you lived and you died...I’m changed.” -December 26, 2014 I cried out to God...wrote a song...cried some more...and let myself grieve where I needed to. Grief doesn’t eclipse joy anymore than the opposite is true...you will grieve in the midst of celebration...and celebrate in the midst of grief. There will be moments where tears rain down...moments where happiness surrounds you...and moments where you’re not sure which one you’re supposed to embrace. But you’ll be okay...and if you’re not right now, that’s okay. There’s no perfect way to do this...just a perfect God to rely on in this. He makes the impossible possible...the broken things beautiful...and these moments survivable. He’s the air at the bottom of the deep end...and He never misses His cue to rescue. Love, Schelli
Posted on: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 23:28:30 +0000
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