This is where I rest.....

And so.....life goes on. God brings trials into our lives, provides His mercy and grace to get through them and then leads us forward, on into life, with its new normalcy.

I find myself asking, "So, what have I learned? How have I grown, been changed? How has this experience made me more like Christ?"

Because I know all things work together for good Rom 8:28
For me to live is Christ (not myself)Phil.1:21
If I walk uprightly, I will enter into peace Is 57:1-2
My ways are not His ways Is 55:8
I will count it all joy when.... James 1:2
I can do all things through Christ Phil 4:13
God takes my hand and will help me Is 43:13
If He is directing me, I do not have to understand Prov 20:24
He is the strength of my heart Ps 73:26
As my heart seeks His, I will rejoice Ps 105:3
GOD IS REAL-Jack Dean

I cannot allow this excruciating experience to go on without determining its profit in my life. It MUST be worth the cost. My realization is that to be able to grow in relationship with Him, I WILL continue to struggle through situations similar to losing Daddy. They are necessary and right as part of my Christian life. He uses them as tools to teach me and mold me. I want this transformation. I think. At least in theory, I do. But the cost? Am I willing? Desirous even? Yes. No. Okay. Okay. No. This is where I must fall into His loving arms and say, "Whatever!" Yes, whatever You do, I know You love me. Whatever comes, You know what is best for me. Whatever crosses my path, You promise to walk with me, hold me up when necessary, reassure me constantly.

This is where I rest. I leave my life in His hands. I know I can't do it. Often I don't want it. Always I want to submit to His plan..."that Christ may be magnified in my body whether by life or by death. For me to live is Christ...."

It's the little things......they jump out and nick your heart...

Over at Mom's. Out in the laundry room helping her find some throat lozenges. Open up the medicine cabinet. Laying on the bottom shelf......Daddy's comb. Quickly look away, close the door....hope Mom didn't notice it. While she's not looking, slip the comb out and tuck it in my pocket. Daddy. Will this grieving never end? It's the little things that sneak up and catch you unawares, unprepared. They jump out and nick your heart before you can ready your defenses.

Often, I'm asked, "How are you? How's your family doing?" I have yet to find a realistic answer to that question. It depends. Right now? Ten minutes from now when I come across Dad's comb? "Mostly good" is how I usually respond.

Slowly I'm trying to understand what's the normal process. I'm finding the grieving is many faceted. On the outside, I might seem okay, normal (whatever that is...). But, I can't focus, can't process simple information. I never feel rested. I get so frustrated with myself because I still can't function at previous levels. In talking with the sibs I find I am not alone. All of our experiences are similar in some way or another. Even as we express gratitude to the Lord for how the whole experience has unfolded, and how He has walked with us each step, we struggle to make sense of this new episode of life.

Inch by inch. Step by step. He shows us the way......

So now I must move.......

I sat with Mom and watched the video of Dad's funeral last night. Mom said she didn't remember much of the service and wanted to watch it. Personally, someone handed me my copy weeks ago. Not sure where I put it. Had no plans to need it any time soon. So, when Mom asked if I wanted to watch it, my heart said, "Uh.....no way....." But I wasn't about to let her watch it by herself. "Sure, if you want to," was my reply. So we did.

I sat a bit behind her and to the side. I watched her as much as I did the service. Occasionally I couldn't watch either, so I watched the lava lamp. She watched quietly, amazed at the parts she couldn't remember at all. She would choke up, giggle, nod her head, say "Amen", ask questions, make comments. All in all it was a pleasant experience for her. Not sure how she fared after we left.....

For me it was surreal. My heart tries to accept it while my brain tries to make sense of it. Can it really be true? He's gone and we'll never poke at each other again? For real? I don't think it would be any harder to try to learn to live without my right arm (something else I've had my whole life) than it has been to learn a new life without my Daddy.

Funny, though. I feel no resentment or anger. I know God orchestrated this and it will all "work together for good." No question, no doubt. It's just that as I look at the path the Lord has laid before me, I look down at my feet and try to understand how I can get them to move. One step in front of the other. My feet are enclosed in cinder blocks. I'm willing to move forward, it's just.......

I look down the path as far as I can see. Something's not quite right. I can't see Daddy anywhere. Wait. We need to wait. He'll be here in a second. But that's not right either. He's always out front, ready to go before any one else is. Leading.... Maybe that's it. While we haven't always agreed, he's always been out there. A force to move toward without question. If he's going that direction, I can also go there, safely, expectantly, happily.

So now I must move. Forward. In the direction that would honor Daddy. I can do this and know that I will also be honoring God. I will take what he has taught me and embrace it. I will pick up his passions and tuck them away in my heart. I will love God as he did, humbly, deeply. I will see God work in my life and use me as He did Daddy. It's a good thing.....

Ready.......