It’s been a little over 8 months since Jamie died and I’m here to tell you that although I’m still striving to live life after loss, I’m tired. This grief journey is a long one. Long and painful. I have likened it to climbing a mountain; the tallest, roughest terrain mountain anyone has ever seen or imagined. Some days the sun is out and the weather and scenery are beautiful so the climb is filled with encouraging thoughts and hope that I will be able to make it to the top. On those days, the journey is still painful but a bit lighter than normal. Hope fills my soul and I desire to keep pushing forward. I love those days. As the months have continued to roll on, these days do happen more and more frequently as I keep trudging my way up the side of the mountain.
But out of no where another storm of grief rolls in and I must stop my forward progress and pitch my tent on the ledge…and rest.
If there is one thing I have learned through this journey is that pain demands to be felt. It can bubble on the surface like a pot of hot water for a few days but eventually it will boil over and today it did. Today is one of those days. Tears have been abundant. I’m exhausted. And all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. If there is one thing I have learned through this journey is that pain demands to be felt. It can bubble on the surface like a pot of hot water for a few days but eventually it will boil over and today it did. It literally stopped me in my path and dropped me to the ground in a puddle. And it hurts like hell. Everything is cloudy and dreary and bleak. My hope has been drained and the top of the mountain seems so, so far away. It is in these moments that I have a hard time praying. My heart knows that He is here and waiting for me to call on Him for help but I am just literally too tired and in so much pain, my faith wavers.
Will a prayer really help take this all away?
And even though my thoughts are weak and my heart is breaking…
My prayer is short, but oh-so sincere, and in the quiet of my home, I feel Him. He is there. And He pours hope back into my heart and I know that I will be ok. He has blessed me once again and I’m humbled and grateful. Today I have realized that this process will happen over and over again as I make my way up the side of this gigantic mountain, and I know that with His help, I will make it to the top. I imagine the view will beautiful from there…that is my hope.
Questions to ponder:
How can prayer help bring back hope? How does my choice to pray or to focus on despair affect the way I feel?