I don't know why I've done this in recent days, but I've found myself just replaying those last few months of Ash's time here over and over. Maybe it's my way of processing and working through some tough moments, but that mental roller coaster usually unfolds into emotional turbulence. At first, I readily pushed back against those memories when they started to intrude (because, well, they are generally sorrowful). Though, as I thought through all of it, I kept coming back to the fact that there were some really sweet moments in those days. The Lord was gracious to give us that time. The Lord was gracious to give us moments together, to share, and retrospectively... He was giving us more opportunities to make memories that I now carry forward. As I've spent time just reading stories of other widows and widowers, especially ones who lost their spouse to cancer and went through a long, arduous journey... I see SO MUCH of our story in theirs. Certainly, the experiences were unique to them and ours to us, but the rise and fall, the sink and swell of each phase, the deeply vested hope in Jesus even amidst dire earthly moments, the trying moments where hearts were tested, the tumultuous and abrupt (albeit anticipated) loss. Even on the other side of that loss, the grief and struggle. The countenance on the faces of those who are now navigating life without their loves; they are all forever changed. It's like a permanent scar of a battle fought, a story told by the change in their eyes, by the weight of grief, by the depth of sorrow... even the little furls of hope on the corners of smiles. There is something of both lament and comfort in seeing it in others who have walked this part of the road already, because I am no exception to any of this. It's a story none of us would choose (of our own accord) to share, and yet again, God's graciousness is unveiled by providing comfort in community.
If I'm being honest with myself, this part of life is not my favorite. That's not to say there aren't some really good days, but by and large this season is basically having to relearn how to do every aspect of life again. Those growing pains are not easy or comfortable. They're necessary and I guess one could put them off and ignore them and just 'get by', but I'm finding (through looking at my history) that I like the difficult things. These pains, they require attention, effort and motivation. All the while, I've got kids to shepherd who are also having to learn (or relearn) how to navigate their days with only one parent. As I was trying to explain to my oldest a few days ago, entropy (let's be honest, she's not old enough to understand entropy, but sadly, they are my kids and will hear me talk like this more than they care for)... but entropy is increasing. If left unattended and in an open (read as: constantly changing) system, entropy (read as: disorder) will naturally increase. That's essentially what life is right now, day to day operations and ever evolving schedules/change; the tangible disorder seems to constantly increase. [In my heart, I know that a 30,000' view tells me otherwise. But on the ground, there is a fight between KNOWING that the sovereignty of God prevails and EXPERIENCING the continual ebb and flow of chaos.]
It really seems like a perpetual season of putting one foot in front of the other but not really wanting to or knowing where that foot should go... just have to move the muscles. To a certain extent, I feel like I'm sleeping through this season. In the same way as experiencing a dream where your senses are muted; you know things are still moving forward but the clarity of the world around you is dulled. Everyone else in a dream has their mission, they have their purpose... but the one having the dream is disoriented. That's a bit what life feels like these days. There is confusion, frustration, anxiety, and pain that rolls into this daily package of 'here we go again'. Again, I know with my head that none of this is fruitless. This is all under the purview of God's sovereignty. I've got Romans 8:28 written on my wall... I see it and say it daily. I know that ALL of this is being used by God for His glory and for my good. I love that none of this doubt, confusion, pain is being wasted, but the lament is found in having to actually walk through all of it to make it to the other side (whatever that looks like *insert nervous emoji face*).
I've read a lot in the past few weeks. I think I've hit a new record of 6 books in just under 4 weeks (for clarity: 2 physical copies and 4 audio books). A lot of time spent reflecting on and trying to process things as they come... Something that I've run across in several places is that those (especially) near my age aren't typically having to navigate this type of life change. They are producing valuable work, growing their families, planning their futures, and are doing 'typical' things. I'm so grateful they are blessed to do those things. Meanwhile, the future I thought we might have 14 years ago, heck even 6 years ago, it's gone. I'm having to deal with the grief of that future's death all the while trying to discern what the coming days look like. This is not meant as a point of comparison, it's more of a situational truth. I'm learning to live with both her death and the part of me that died along with her.
Another dose of 'straight from my brain to paper': I have no idea what I'm doing. This is not just a platitude, this is a specific point. I don't know what I'm supposed to be focusing on. I want to feel purpose in my days. I want my kids to thrive. For that matter, I want to thrive. I miss my wife. I miss laughing with her. I miss figuring out parenthood with her. I miss hearing her heart and growing together. I miss her spontaneous commentary and ideas that usually created anxiety in my rigidity :). Our house misses her compassion and gentleness. But now, instead, I'm here floundering and 'surviving'. I'm starting to feel caged (be it with my own expectations or patience with how lethargic I feel like I'm walking through life right now) and for all of my personality test lovers out there... that's a dangerous place for me to be.
As I'm writing this and putting words to internal emotions/feelings... I also see this as God's provision. Maybe these moments of being 'caged' and unsettled are His workings to stir my affections for Him more... for what's next. Who knows what's next? Not me, but maybe it's also not mine to know yet. Maybe as this internal tension grows, there will be more clarity and urgency to move toward action in the next arena. (You're really getting raw, unfiltered commentary right now... it's probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'm also not erasing and rewriting it... so enjoy).
Forward motion is so difficult when walking through fog. Things I'll rely on right now: doing the next right thing, relying on strength that God provides in this season of weakness, trusting Jesus when He says His yoke is light, keep moving muscles, and continuing to spend time in His word and prayer. Things I've got to get better at: asking for help, growing in compassion and extending grace to my girls, sleeping, executing ideas of adventure and exploration for both myself and my family. The story continues to unfold and, oh, that God would be honored even in moments of lament and uncertainty.