I am behind on writing lately. Working on a project that has taken some time.
Ambushed…They continue to be further apart and weaker…but still, until then….
I know hate is a strong word, but I hate it when I get ambushed. That surprise attack of emotions coming out of nowhere. I made some of the best fajitas last week and thought of Mary while I was taking a bite, because it just melted in my mouth and tasted delicious. It was the first I had made since she died. In my mind I thought about how much she would have loved this. It was really good. That’s when I got the pain in my chest as my feelings come over me for a moment. It was just a random recipe I looked up while in the grocery store, making sure I didn’t forget something that I would need in the ingredients. Man, they were good. I thought, Mary King, you would have said so too, and I would have reminded you about em later…haha. Another meal that we no longer share, and another reminder of those that we have shared.
Winter has finally arrived in most of the country I’d say. Temps are freezing, snow, and freezing rain. None of that here in Carolina yet. I headed out to work in the shop and plugged up the jet heater and small propane heater to get it toasty in there. While standing in the heat, I scrolled instagram and came across a reel. It was a guy sitting in a chair, in a field, microphoned, and playing a pink acoustic guitar while singing to cows. Yes, singing to cows. What really ambushed me here was the song he was singing. I’ve mentioned this one other time in my writings, and my kids have always known. The song “Can’t help falling in love” by Elvis Presley was our song in our early years of marriage, and has always kinda hung around all these years. This guy was singing our song, as I stood there alone, in the workshop, getting warm, the roar and noise of the jet heater, and missing her badly in that moment. During the cold season, she would always walk into the shop, arms clinched close to her side, “shhhuuut it is cold!” she’d say, as she headed straight for the heater. She was not a fan of the cold weather. In my early grief, I may have missed her walking into the shop, but now, I may miss that, but I also cling to those memories for comfort because those have been good days to remember.
God is my refuge. He is my strength. He is the one I cry out to. He is my saviour. I worship him and draw close to him, not only in prayer and reading of his word, but also in song, in corporate worship with my brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus. Being ambushed in worship service is something I can’t describe. Playing my guitar in my room, either in worship or at times just strumming sad chords while mourning my loss, is where I’m alone and can speak out to God in all my heartache and healing. Standing in church with my arms spread wide, in a signal of total surrender with tears, and struggling to sing a few lines of a song to God is harder, but needed and necessary to get through the valley. Two songs that Sunday, “The Goodness of God” (one of which was Mary’s favorite, and was played at her memorial) was followed with “Graves into Gardens”. The words are beautiful in both, showing adoration for the Lord. When the lyrics read “you turn mourning to dancing”, and “you give beauty for ashes” and other words, I struggled in my thoughts. I stopped singing for a moment, regained my composure, and then carried on. I’m on my way out of this valley, and I try hard to be patient as I wait on the Lord for the “beauty and the dancing”. I shared with some members at the last griefshare meeting how I was anxious and also had some concerns that things may not be as good as they use to be as I come out of this grief. I want to look forward to the future, and one of the members that has lost a loved one over a year ago, mentioned to me that it would be a “different better”. She encouraged me with those words. I’m looking forward to that day and time as I continue to move forward one day at a time. Nothing will be the same for sure. I am somewhat different. I know weeping may endure for a night, but Joy comes in the morning! Psalms 30:5. Maybe I will even be a different better.
It took stages, but I got it finished. It was a bit difficult, but managed. I cried for a moment, but knew it was best, and also what Mary wanted. I decided on what ministry to donate Mary’s clothes to. A shelter. It not only ministers to those in a safe house, but also to others in need. I felt comfortable and pleased with that decision. I also donated clothes hangers as well. I left a few hanging in the closet. It’s a bittersweet sight. A rose with thorns. It took six months. Off the hangers at first into boxes. Neatly and carefully folded. Then after a few weeks the boxes were delivered. I call it progress. A stone moved. A step toward rebuilding. I cannot sit in the ashes as easy as that would be. When I am weak, He is strong. Yes, God is my strength and has been in all of this journey. He has comforted and held me up to this day and continues to do so. Wherever you are in your journey, I hope you cling to and stand on the rock of salvation. There is always HOPE.
“God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. Psalms 46:1
Broadcasting Hope 