The story I did not want to tell (Grief will wait)

Grief is a heavy burden. You get used to it and some days it doesn't feel quite so heavy, and then you have a bad day. You have a day when you are tired or sad or just spread too thin. Those are the days when the weight hits you full force and you think this time you really may buckle underneath it.

In these times you wonder if life will ever feel normal again. And part of you doesn't want it to. Part of you feels like the grief is holding on to the person you loved and if you stop grieving it will be like they didn't matter.

Life will not be the normal you once knew. It will be different. Challenges will feel different. You may have to ask for help more and you will battle becoming dependent on someone else and taking ease in that or being broken inside because you need help. You may need more time alone, or less. You may start and stop several new things trying to find something to make you feel like going on.

I found in the beginning that I kept doing one thing after another and staying busy. I was in a bubble of God's grace that he gives when losses are huge. But grief will wait.

My husband had been sick for a long time, and I had been his caregiver. My mind was a big foggy place that was more reactive than introspective, and I actually had thoughts sometimes that maybe I was going to be that one person that got through grief with my garment of praise and beauty for my ashes and the oil of gladness that would overshadow my mourning.

I remember telling the story of his last few weeks and how God showed up so wonderfully for us. We had some wonderful moments together and looking back I could see what gifts those were to prepare us for his passing. Every time I told it I felt the assurance of God's presence being with us through it all. It kept me going. I also felt like everything I did going forward would be an extension of us as a ministry partnership. He would be there with me. And I felt him there. So much that some days I couldn't wait to get home to tell him what happened that day. But he wasn't there.

I read a post that said, you don't just lose someone once, you lose them over and over. Every time you have one of those thoughts that you will call them. Every time you think they will be home soon. Every time you wake up and reach for them. The loss hits again.

These things kept happening until my mind started to grasp my reality. He was not here. So, I would allow myself to grieve for a while and then I would take my mind back to the few weeks before he died, and I would count those blessings again.

That kept me going for a while. But grief will wait.

Grief will wait until you acknowledge it is there. It will show up dressed like something else. It will show up as aches and pains in your body. It will show up as insomnia. It will show up as anger. It will show up as depression. It will do whatever it has to so that you deal with it.

Grief will wait until something else breaks you.

I had dreamed since I was young of having a book published. So that first summer I worked on my book. It was a horrible affair. I had to fight with my publisher for any kind of editing and for the artwork I wanted and for a clean copy of my draft. It came out way later than I had intended. After it came out even though I had moments of joy and celebration, the sadness of the whole affair broke my heart. And not having him here to share it with was so real it took my breath away. And I found out going on was not going to be so easy.

After the book publishing which tore at my emotions so deeply, the emptiness was more than I could handle. I was not starting to think about the years we lost to sickness and what our life would have been like if he had lived and was healthy. The loss we suffered in the 10 years he was sick all came flooding in. I was not prepared to do this alone.

My body was sick, and my brain was sluggish, my emotions were walled up and all of that was coming to a point I could no longer ignore.

I was sitting in my living room and I finally allowed myself to ask God, "what is going on?" I was so sure I wasn't going to battle depression. I wasn't going to lose sight of our plan. I was so sure joy of all we had would be enough to let me go on and live.

As plain as God ever graced my heart with understanding, all at once, I had a revelation.

 I was ready for my husband's suffering to be over,

 but I was not prepared to live without him.

This was the place and time when I finally realized that the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness does not mean you will not bear the heaviness. The oil of joy for mourning does not mean you will not feel the mourning. Beauty for ashes does not mean the ashes did not have to come. This is also the place where my healing began.

This is the story I never wanted to tell. I never wanted to be a widow. I never wanted to the be the person who served God her whole life and now didn't know which way to turn. I didn't want my testimony to be that grief nearly took my soul under before I found my way out. But it is my story to tell.

I am sharing it with you so you can find that joy does come on the journey. Even when you have suffered loss. Even when you think life and joy cannot find you again.

I am here because even though grief will wait, God will too. God will show up and light your path and hold you up with his promises and you will find life.