When Everything Seems To Change

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”                        Hebrews 13:8

There are defining moments in history – tragedies that change life - from wars, 9/11, natural disasters to historic events like landing on the moon and medical discoveries.  Personally, we have events and moments that change our lives like graduations, career changes, the birth of a child to marriages and deaths.

For me many events and moments have impacted my life.  Besides giving my life to Jesus and becoming a Christian, two events have made an imprint forever on my life – my marriage to Dave and the death of Dave.  Both changed my life completely at the time and forever.

At the age of 30, I had prayed if God wanted me to be single the rest of my life, I would accept God’s will for my life.  Then God brought Dave into my life a few months later.  My life changed.  I began to not just think of myself but put Dave and our marriage as a priority.  God was still the center of my life, but I was now walking together with Dave.  He became my best friend and companion on this journey of life.  I had someone to share life with, to laugh and cry with, to go places and travel and to just do daily life.  Life was filled with joys and struggles and challenges and disappointments but we had each other to go through them together and hold each other up.  We walked the path of life together.

Then everything changed.  Dave was diagnosed with brain tumors.  We walked those last months together the same way we had the past 25 years with love, compassion and support knowing God was with us.

But then Dave died and everything changed again.   I no longer had my best friend and companion to walk through the joys and sorrows of life.  The emptiness and loneliness was intense.  Life was so different.  I knew my life would be different, but I didn’t realize how much.  I had been independent before meeting Dave and assumed I would just go back being that independent person.  But I had changed.  I so enjoyed sharing my life with Dave and we loved being together and doing everything together.  My mind had been rewired to share life with my husband.

Now, I had to rewire my thoughts to go through life without him.  I began to recognize that the one constant in my life had not changed.  God was still God.  God was still with me.  God does not change, but my relationship with God has grown more intimate and dependent.  While I did not like the change of becoming a widow, I have come to accept my current status and that I will never be the same again.  I have grown and matured in the understanding of relationships, therefore, my relationship with God has deepened and changed.

Daily, I take my Heavenly Father’s hand knowing He walks with me into the day.  Jesus walks beside me as my companion and friend, and the Holy Spirit surrounds me with strength and perseverance.  I am never alone.

Change is a natural part of life.  God created life to change, evolve, grow, and live in the seasons.  I have experienced changes throughout my life, but God has remained with me in each change.  Sometimes God held my hand and sometimes God carried me.  We may not want or like the change, but it is going to happen anyway.  It is finding a way to embrace the change, learn from it and live in the different.

The Stones At The Grave

“After this happened Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen.  He named the stone Ebenezer, saying, “The Lord has helped us to this point.”                                                                                            I Samuel 7:12

Every time I visit the cemetery whether it is my husband, Dave’s grave, my parents, my grandma, Dave’s parents or my friend, Ruth, I leave a stone.  The stone represents many reasons for leaving it.

First of all, a stone does not wither like flowers and can be a permanent reminder of the bond of love.  The stone is from the earth just as our loved one has returned to the earth.  The stone is also a reminder that someone has been to the grave to visit.

The stone is also a symbol of God’s holy presence.  In the Old Testament, stones were stacked on top of each other whenever an altar was built to worship God and symbolized God’s presence.  For example, when Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, God had Joshua choose a man from each of the twelve tribes of Israel to pick up a rock from the River to be sign and reminder to their children that God stopped the flow of the Jordan River so that the people could cross.  The rock was the reminder of God’s presence with them.

In the New Testament, Jesus gives Simon the name, “Cephas” which means Peter or rock.  Later in Jesus’ ministry, Jesus asks the disciples, “Who do you say I am?”  and Peter replies, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”  Jesus says, “On this rock I will build my church….”  (Matthew 16:16-18)  Yes, Peter’s name meant “rock” but the rock Jesus was building upon was Peter’s faith in who Jesus is.  To me, this also symbolizes why I take a rock to the cemetery.  The faith and foundation of life given to me by those I visit have helped me to build my life and faith.  They are the foundation stones of my life.

In I Samuel 7:12, Samuel took a stone and named the stone “Ebenezer” which means “stone of help.”  Samuel recognized God’s help on the journey.  When I take a stone to the grave, I recognize the help each person has given me on the journey of life.  The stone represents my love and thankfulness for their life.

Also, my husband, Dave, had a fascination with rocks.  During a period of time in our marriage, we walked farmers’ fields and gathered rocks for our landscaping.  Now, these were not small stones, but huge rocks that took two people to carry and sometimes took a trailer to haul.  These rocks were the first things moved in three of my recent moves.  Some of these rocks now reside beside the signs for my husband’s memorial highway in Coshocton County.

I now pick up a stone wherever I travel and take it to the cemetery.  It connects Dave to my travels and reminds me he has helped me on my journey.  He will always be a part of my foundation.  I take stones to my parents and grandma’s grave from my travels and places I have lived to remind me they are the basis of my foundation. 

The stone also reminds me of the solid love Dave and I shared.  While life’s adversities would pound at our lives, our love remained strong and did not waver.  Oh, the rock took on some difficult storms, but that just made it smoother and more beautiful.  Just like our love.  The strength of that love was grounded in our faith in God and that love remains solid as a rock in my heart. 

So I find my “Ebenezer” knowing God has helped me to this point and will at each moment through my life and my grief.

The Anniversary

 “I press on toward the goal….of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”                                                          Philippians 3:14

The word “anniversary” described a time to celebrate our marriage or the marriage of family and friends.  It was a time to be happy and to remember how God created the bond of marriage.

September represents another understanding of Anniversary – the anniversary date of my husband’s death.  This month marks the 4th anniversary of Dave’s death and the recognition I have lived the past four years without his physical presence.  I have been reflecting on these past years.

On the 1st Anniversary of Dave’s death, it seemed impossible that he had been gone already a year.  It was also remarkable that I had survived all of the “firsts” without him.  I had kept busy with work – counseling and teaching and making visits.  My way of dealing with grief in this first year was to keep as busy as possible so the grief didn’t have time to penetrate deeply.  Oh, it did in moments, but I was more focused on others and caring for their needs.  Many who grieve experience this survival mode in the first year.

The 2nd Anniversary found me living in my hometown.  I had moved nine months earlier to find a quieter place to grieve and heal and to change my focus. I needed to separate myself from everything that reminded me of Dave.  I went back to my familiar surroundings and family.  It was in this time I began to write.  I started to write about my husband, Dave’s life and legacy but realized I had too much grief in me so I wrote out the grief.  The book, Living In The Different was birthed.  My life was truly different.  Different wasn’t bad, it was just different.  Then, I started to read Dave’s writings, sort through boxes of saved papers and speeches, cards and letters, pictures and stories from friends.  Somehow it was all organized, sifted through and a book emerged – Life Lessons of a Lone Trooper.

I felt this 2nd year had been productive by defining my grief and Dave’s legacy.  I connected with family and rediscovered my hometown.

The 3rd Anniversary found me considering my next move.  My hometown stay had brought healing to my heart and a time away from the life I had lived with Dave.  It also brought some disappointments for next steps, but also a realization God still had more for me to do.  So a leap of faith and a move back to the Columbus area happened after this 3rd Anniversary.  During this time, I gave away the majority of my stuff to family.  I believe part of my reason in moving back among my family was to give my possessions to my nieces and nephews so they could enjoy the blessings I had received.  It was the easiest way to accomplish this desire.  I want to travel lighter into this next chapter.

Now as the 4th Anniversary has approached, my priorities and view of life and purpose is changing and is different than what I had envisioned.  Work and doing and being busy are no longer in the forefront of this chapter of life.

I want to follow God’s will for my life and rest in God’s presence.  My purpose is to find peace and contentment in being with God.  I don’t want to settle and just take it easy, either.  This next chapter involves a leap of faith but also a closure.

Closure does not mean we no longer remember or grieve.  We remember the love, the impact and imprint our loved one has made upon our life.  We will always miss our loved one and grieve.  We moved forward with grief, but we move forward toward life, too. Closure means we start living instead of wishing it was like it used to be.  It means we live in the reality of this different life.  We have life and hope, and now trust in the new present and hope of a future.

In this 4th Anniversary, I am aware it is time to move forward.  The love of Dave will remain in my heart forever and his influence has strengthened me.  He is a part of my foundation upon which I will continue to build.  My life will always be different than I had hoped but it is my life now.  I walk into this 5th year without Dave, holding God’s right hand, being open to new adventures, new relationships and recognizing it is OK to be different.  Those who grieve understand.

As Anniversary dates approach each of you who grieve, reflect on the past.  Give yourself credit for surviving.  Remember and celebrate your loved one’s life and legacy and the difference made in your life.  Take the memories with you.  Recognize you are different and begin to look into this next chapter of your life.  Remember, love never ends; it just takes a different form.  Live in this different.

Numbness to Time

“To you, a thousand years is like the passing of a day, or like a few hours in the night.”   Psalm 90:4 (NCV)

As a child, time goes by so slowly.  It seems forever until your birthday, and then Christmas is so slow getting here.  School last what seems like an eternity, and it’s amazing how much you can pack into a summer!

As we age, time seems to speed up and go by at a greater speed.  It doesn’t seem possible that one season fades quickly into the next.  And then we experience the death of a loved one.  Time seems to stand still for a while.  Life is a blur and then one day we realize time has moved on while grief has remained.

On September 18, 2019, it will be four years since my husband, Dave died.  Four years!  Where has the time gone?  Sometimes it seems like only yesterday.  Other times it feels like forever since I saw him, touched him, laughed with him and shared moments with him.  September 18th will never be the same again.  It is more than a date on a calendar, but a date when time changed for me.

To the world around me, time has moved on and the expectation is that I have moved on in my loss.  The reality is one does not move on from grief, but one moves forward with grief.  Some aspect of grief will always be a part of who I am.

Grief is not about time, it is about love.  As we grieve, we may hear others around us, our friends and family, say, “It’s time to move on.”  “It’s time to let go.”  “It’s time to get over it and move on with your life.”

Grief has no time table.  Some people believe once you get through all the “firsts” your grieving will be completed.  For some who grieve, life moves forward quicker than for others.  Some may feel “stuck” in this grief, and it just seems impossible to move forward.  Time stands still.

I believe we move forward with the grief as a part of our daily life.  We learn to live in our grief and brokenness.  It is in this pain and brokenness that we find our new way of life.  Our lives will never go back to a normal feel and normal understanding of time. Life and the days and weeks keep marching on but in our grief, it feels like it stands still, too.

How I view time has changed for me.  I measure time differently when a loved one has died.  Now time for me is based on before or after Dave died.  Time after his death seems to all run together.  The days were cloudy at first, and I just wanted the day to be over.  Then I began to enjoy moments and smile at memories.  As I walk down this different path, I begin to see time not just what happened in the past, but time marks the present and a hope for a future.

Time, to me, is measured differently now.  It is not measured in hours and days, but in moments.  Moments of treasured memories.  Moments with special friends and family.  Moments resting in God’s presence.  Moments listening to God’s directions.  Moments listen to nature.  Moments of sadness and tears.  Moments.

Decisions At The Cemetery

“If I lie down in the grave, you are there…even there you would guide me.  With your right hand you would hold me.”   Psalm 139:8, 10 (NCV)

It is about a mile and a half to the cemetery where my husband, Dave’s body is buried in my current location.  I walk to the cemetery quite often.  I know Dave is not there, but a feeling of being closer to him occurs when I sit beside the grave stone.

My dog, Annie, has been to the grave so many times that her nose leads her directly to the grave and then she lays down under a nearby tree while I talk with Dave and God.

I remember the day Dave’s body was laid to rest in the casket in this cemetery.  It is one of the most vivid memories for me of the funeral day.  The funeral director, Dwayne Spence, walked me to the gravesite.  It was a warm and sunny September day, but I was cloudy and cold.  I sat on a chair under the tent in front of the casket.  I had been on the other side so many times as the minister officiating at the graveside service.  This was different sitting and staring at the casket.

I have no memory of what was said at the ceremony.  I remember the intense quietness of the flag being folded by state troopers and given to me by the Colonel of the Highway Patrol.  The taps were played.  The guns fired a 21 gun salute.  The bagpiper played “Amazing Grace” and then he turned and walked away from the grave playing and the sound grew faint but still distinct.  Tears flowed for the first time that day.  I had tried to keep it all inside, but the cemetery called for the release of the tears.  It was good-bye to his body and he was laid to rest.  My physical connection with Dave was gone.

After the service and the meal at the church, everyone said good-bye and went home.  I was left alone with my dog.  We returned that evening to the cemetery.  Where else could I go?  I sat with my dog and cried at the fresh grave.  The cemetery was filled with sadness and a deep pain.  I was now alone.

Over the months, I would stop for a few moments at the cemetery.  It became not a place of pain but a place of release and healing.  I come now to be connected to Dave’s spirit.  It is quiet and I am more focused on listening to God speak to my heart.  Dave is with God and God’s Spirit is in me so a part of Dave’s spirit is present with me at the cemetery.

When I need to make a decision or to sort out life, I go to the cemetery.  Every major decision in the years since Dave’s death has been made at the cemetery.  I also go to the cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried and reflect on these decisions and direction for my life.

The cemetery reminds me of all the people who have come before me and have left a legacy of love in my life.  It is filled with the “great cloud of witnesses” that are the foundation of my life and faith.  The cemetery has become a peaceful place because those who dwell there are at peace and no longer struggle in this world.

A quiet spirit comes over me now as I enter the cemetery.  Some days there is a longing to be there in the quiet and reflect.  Spending time in the cemetery has helped me to focus on what is most important in life – my relationship with God and my relationship with others.  The cemetery is filled with relationships of love.  There have been times I have gathered with family at the cemetery, and in those moments of sharing memories, I hear the difference our loved one has made in our lives.  The cemetery reminds us that our loved one lived and mattered and the spirit of our loved one lives on in us.

The Pathway into the New Chapter of Life

As I reflect on my life with my husband, Dave, I visualize that we walked separate paths in our lives until God brought us together.  We walked the path of life together for twenty-five and a half years.  The path was filled with obstacles, difficult steps, smooth and open meadows, narrow and frightening trails, quiet streams and so much more, but whatever we encountered, we walked together. 

Dave helped me to move further along on the path of life, and then we separated.  He went to Heaven, and I have had to continue forward on a new path of my own life.  I would not be as far along on my life’s path if Dave had not come to walk beside me.  He helped me to see the strength within me, to build my confidence and bring out the good gifts within me.

I wish Dave could continue the journey of life with me, but he was no longer able so God released him from this world.  And because Dave was released, I have been released to live fully on this new path of life.

I took a trip back to the last place Dave and I vacationed.  It was an emotional trip filled with good memories.  The last day of my vacation, I went to the park where Dave and I had walked, and I ran the trail around the town and beside the water.  The trail had been extended beyond where Dave and I had walked.  I ran on this new trail where Dave and I had never been.  I felt like God was saying to me, “it’s time for you to move forward and to blaze a new trail without Dave’s physical presence.”

I know that whatever path God directs me to walk, the memories and spirit of Dave will go with me.  He taught me so much about how to live life and his wisdom, advise, leadership, faith and all that was Dave, will be a part of me in this new chapter of life.

 “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”  Proverbs 3:6

The Path

For the past 6 years, I have run almost every morning with my dog, Annie.  We have run in four different locations and in each place we have made a path in the grass.  Annie usually follows me and sometimes runs ahead of me.  Depending on the day, sometimes she gets off the trail because her nose has picked up a scent or she sees a deer or rabbit that she chases.  Most of the time, I can call her back and she picks up her own leash and runs back to me.  But some days, I have to go get her and pick up her leash and hold onto her for a while to get her back on the trail.

The path in the grass has become noticeable and we have beaten down the grass. My run has also become my prayer time and quiet time with God.  Over the past 14 years of running, it has been where I have released my emotions and grieved for so many loved ones and very special relationships.

My trail and run has become a metaphor for my grief.  I see God as the steady and faithful runner at times.  Staying on the path and never deviating from the path laid out.  My dog, Annie, reminds me of myself at times.  She stays close to God on the path at times and is obedient and faithful.  Other times, the distractions of the world take over and she gets off the path.  Annie sometimes just stops and waits until I run back around and picks up again with me.   Because of the weather conditions, sometimes I have to run on the pavement and not on the muddy or icy trail.  It feels like I am just going in short circles but at least I am outside and moving.

So what does all of this have to do with my grief story?  Many metaphors of the trail are an expression of my different paths of grief.  Sometimes, I recognize that God is right beside me and I feel close to God and have the assurance my loved ones are with God in heaven.  Other times I feel distance and go off on my own and look for things of this world to satisfy me or at least distract me, but it does not last long.  The only sense of hope in my grief is with God.  Grief gets messy like my path, and I feel like I am just going in circles repeating the same journey over and over again without progress.  But I remind myself, grief is the journey I am now on.  Some days it is intense and hard, and other days it is in the back of my mind but I can live and enjoy the beauty of life around me.

In my grief, anxiety can take control even when I am praying and running.  I then reach out my left hand and grab hold of God’s hand which brings me comfort and brings me back into the present moment.  God reassures me that He is with me and together we will go through this journey.

I am the Lord your God, who holds your right hand, and I tell you, “Don’t be afraid.  I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13

Holding God’s right hand has been what keeps me in the present moment and keeps me from thinking too far into the future and being afraid.  In those moments, I literally reach out with my left hand and grab my Heavenly Father’s right hand and hold it tightly while saying, “God, you have me.  Keep me in the present with you.”

Life is a path.  We all have a path.  The path is not neat and easy but it is worth it.  We learn to live on our own path, not someone else’s.  It is ours.  We don’t always like the path and the obstacles and sorrows on it, but we make it through.  Keep going.

My Grief Companion

My husband, Dave and I rescued our dog almost seven years ago on our wedding anniversary.  Therefore, we named her “Annie” for anniversary.  Dave was now retired and needed a companion while I was at work.  Annie came into our home and won Dave’s heart pretty quickly.  My heart was still with our first dog, Specs, who lived with us for sixteen and a half years.  I never had an inside dog before Specs.  As a child, we always had a dog on the farm but it lived outside.  So Specs or Inspector General II which was his official name, came to live in our house and in my heart for many years.

 Then came Annie.  Annie was a barker and it took a while to house train her, but soon she slept on Dave’s lap during the day while I was gone.  One day, I called Dave during the day and asked if he would do something for me.  He told me, it would be a little while before he could because Annie was asleep on his lap and he didn’t want to wake her.

 As Dave’s health declined because of the tumors pushing on his brain, Annie stayed close by him.  But her barking would send him over the edge and he couldn’t deal with the intense pain that it caused him.  But when the hospital bed arrived in our condo, Annie slept under the bed to guard and protect.  She wanted to be close to Dave.  She spent some hours sleeping in bed too with Dave.

 When Dave died, Annie was under the bed and didn’t want to leave.  She did not like the funeral directors taking his body out of the house.  Annie grieved.  She was sad and didn’t eat well for days.

 After the funeral, I came home and it was just me and Annie, and that is how it has been ever since.  Annie was not use to being alone so I began taking her to work with me and she has become my therapy dog in counseling.  Annie travels with me much of the time. 

 It was with Annie, that I cried and she curled up next to me in bed and licked my tears many nights.  It was with Annie I was angry and she still loved me as I expressed the anger in my grief.  It was with Annie that I had long conversations and she just listened and would lick my face in response.

 Annie has become my companion on this journey.  She has kept me from jumping into any unhealthy relationship because I didn’t need anyone else since I had her.  Annie has kept me active by running and walking and because of her I had to get out of bed in the morning.  My faithful companion has helped me keep a schedule in this chaotic journey of grief.  While we rescued her seven years ago, she has rescued me through my grief.  Annie has been my main stability.

 There have been days when I wonder why I have a dog.  I think I would have so much more freedom if I didn’t have a dog.  But then I understand that by having Annie I did not jump into something that might not have been healthy for me.  I have had to be home which has given me the opportunity to reflect, write, and grow in my personal relationship with God.

 God has given us a companion in our lives, the Holy Spirit.

 “I will ask the Father and he will give you another Comforter, and he will never leave you.”

John 14:16 (TLB)

The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Jesus that is within us.  The Spirit is always with us.  We are never alone on this journey.

My Grief Story

I grew up in a farm community where people showed respect for those who died.  My parents believed it was important to attend the visitation and many times the funeral for members of our extended family, the community and our church family.  Death was just as much a part of life as was birth.  Living on a farm, I assisted in the birthing of lambs and calves and also watched the death of animals from sickness, naturally, or killed for food.

My parents raised me in the church and I came to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior when I was in Jr. High School.  I heard and sang about heaven and remember sermons on the “great cloud of witnesses” from Hebrews 12:1.  I visited the cemetery regularly to place flowers on the graves of family members. 

My own grief journey began when I officiated at my first funeral at the age of 24.  I was on staff at Marysville First United Methodist Church and as the Associate Minister had visited the granddaughter of one of the members at his request.  Tami was 23 years old and was dying of cancer.  We developed a wonderful friendship and I was with her and her family as she died.  I came face to face with death as a young minister and watched the sadness and grief of a young husband and a family.  I realized then how important it was to walk with people in their grief and that there were no answers or words that could help the intense pain and sadness.  But it was important to be present and to be a support and comfort in their grief.

Then I experienced the death of my dear Grandma who was the most influential person in my life and faith.  She was 97 years old and was not afraid to die.  She looked forward to being in heaven and reunited with loved ones.  Her faith was strong and her belief in heaven strengthened me.  I was happy for her, but sad for me that I no longer had her physically present with me for love and support.  I shared her legacy and the difference she made in my life in my first book, Love Lighted Path.

The death that made me question my faith and ask “why” so many times was the death of my grandson, “JC” at eleven months old.  JC was the grandson born after I became a part of the family.  I had baptized him a few months earlier and remember holding him in my arms and dedicating him to God.  JC choked on a toy at the home of his babysitter.  There were so many questions and no answers.  Our hearts were broken and our grief was intense.  The hurt has remained.  I had to picture Jesus holding JC in his arms knowing he was in heaven to make it through the heartache, but the hole in my heart remains.

The death of my parents, my dad from complications of Parkinson’s disease and my mom from breast cancer that returned in her bones, left me an orphan.  I mourned my past and childhood.  I no longer heard the words, “daddy’s little girl” and no longer had a mom who could answer all my questions.  I have missed walking through life with them, but am so thankful for all they taught me especially giving me a foundation of my faith in Jesus. 

My mom died a few months after I went back to school for my counseling degree.  It was the first graduation without her, but I felt her presence with me.  I did an internship for my degree with Hospice and stayed after graduation working for six years as a hospice chaplain.  It was in Hospice that I developed a spiritual understanding of the dying process and had my faith confirmed over and over again that heaven is real.  I witnessed people talking with people who had died and seeing angels.  Heaven and earth connected and I was a witness.  I understood the need to walk with people on the journey of grief.  Grief begins many times before death and continues.  Grief is not just for families but for those who form a relationship and walk with people in the dying process.  I developed some very close relationships with those I cared for as a hospice chaplain.  I give thanks to God for the opportunity to learn and grow and to grieve.

My own grief has been defined through the death of my husband, Dave.  Dave began experiencing vision issues and depth perception while driving.  He went to the optometrist and was referred to an ophthalmologist.  Dave had an MRI and brain tumors were discovered throughout his entire brain.  The diagnosis came in February, 2015 and Dave died September 18, 2015.  During those seven months, we walked the journey of dying and living in the midst of the dying. 

I have never felt more sad or lonely than the evening after the funeral.  Everyone went home and I was left alone in the condo with my dog.  My thoughts and emotions were all over the place.  I was thankful Dave was no longer in pain and suffering.  I knew he was in Heaven and was healed, but who was I now and what was I to do?

Thus began my journey of how to live in the different.  I worked, counseled, changed positions, resigned, moved and moved again.  Life has been different and will always be different.  In the process of grieving, I wrote two books, Living In the Different which describes grief and the passages of sorrow and loss.  Then I wrote Life Lessons of a Lone Trooper which shares my husband, Dave’s, stories and life lessons.  Both books have been part of my journey and healing.

Through my deep grief, I have begun to share the journey with others through grief classes and seminars.  If God had brought me through grief and continues to guide me in how to live in this different life, than God has opened a new journey for me to share with others.

Through my blog and grief classes, I will share more of the journey and what God is teaching me about grief and how to live in this different life.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the suffering and afflicted.  He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted…”  Isaiah 61:1

Introduction to My “Living In The Different” Blog

Grief has changed me.  I recognize life is different.  Different isn’t bad, it’s just different.  It is learning how to live in this different knowing life will never be the same again. I have learned in the changes and knowing that love never ends, it just takes a different form.  Grief will be with me in some form, too, throughout the rest of my life.

I will be sharing random thoughts through this blog about my own grief and how I am living in this different life.  I will share what is hard, and also how I have embraced the alone time and strengthened my relationship with God. I will share some of the insights I have gained through Scriptures and how they relate to the journey of grief.

My friend, Ruth, did not like the word “grief.”  She felt it was a negative word. She was fine using sorrow and loss, but not staying in the sadness.  Ruth’s husband had died 30 years ago and he was just as present in her heart today as he was 30 years ago.  For her and for me, love never dies and our loved one lives on within our hearts.

My sadness is not for my loved ones.  I know they are in heaven, rejoicing with our Heavenly Father and seeing Jesus face to face.  They are whole and happy. The sadness is for the hole that is in my heart, the hole that is in my life when they physically left this world.  My heart aches in the quiet times of loneliness when I miss my loved one’s companionship, laughter, touch and presence.

As I journey through my grief and you journey with me through these writings, my prayer is that we embrace the legacy of our loved ones and how they made a difference in our lives.  My hope is that together we learn to live in this different life and embrace the love God has given to us through Jesus, and find hope and a good future.

“I say this because I know what I am planning for you,” says the Lord.  “I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you, I will give you hope and a good future.”Jeremiah 29:11 (NCV)