These are tough days. While I know it's not easy to endure these blog posts, we had an agreement, and I get to post what I want. Read it. Or don't. But, I'll keep posting.
As the days wear on, it becomes more and more real to my heart that Chad is gone and won't be coming home. I've always known it in my mind, but now my heart aches. I've typed this all before and a voice in my mind wants me to stop repeating myself and stop typing, but I know that is not the direction I am meant to go. I know I have to push through and write this entry. And the next. And so on.
I think back on the days in hospice. Those days enter my mind constantly. When they were fresh, I knew that Chad could not stay here and that God was welcoming him with open arms, even carrying his broken body into heaven for healing. Now, I linger in the memory of sitting by his side, smelling his skin, kissing his forehead, and I wish for more time that he was here, listening to me. More time that his soul was on this earth. That's all selfishness.
Most of my memories are from when he was well. Every place, every conversation, every thing brings me a memory of him. And, when I allow the thoughts to come, I can forget that--at the end--he was so unwell. I can feel the injustice of his death. I can start to ask "Why?" I can start to be angry. Then, gently, God reminds me that Chad was not well. Healing was not for him here. He was ready to go. His work on this earth was done and it was time to join our Heavenly Father.
I remember sitting by his side and telling him that it was okay to go. My whole heart didn't agree with those words, but I knew it was selfish to allow him to hang on and struggle for every breath. We waited and watched for healing and it didn't come. I watched every day for the slightest glimpse of improvement and everything just got worse. God's will was not in healing on this earth. If it's not His will, then I don't want any part of it. Even if it means that my heart breaks every day, a hundred times a day, I now that God's will is best.
I have to keep returning to God. If I don't, then I can sink into a feeling of meaninglessness. I continue to try to fill the void with distractions and temporary pleasures. Everything is a drug: TV, busyness, friends, working out, food, drink. I only want to escape this. The terrifying truth is that there is no escape. Distractions work to pass the time, and they offer momentary relief, but the emptiness is just waiting for me. Waiting for when I get quiet. And eventually, I need to get quiet. To work through it all. To sit with God and see what He has to tell me.
Today, I made time for this. I didn't sleep well last night, but I was determined to get up and Levi was a great alarm clock. I am glad he went back to sleep so that I could sit quietly and read. Today God reminded me of his never-ending love for me. He reminded me that suffering is real and hard and unavoidable, but that He is worth it all. His plan for me is worth all the pain.
I have been feeling so selfish in my prayers lately. When I honestly pray, I am completely focused on my suffering. I have been feeling guilty about this. God showed me in Psalms that it's okay to cry out to Him from my perspective, from my experiences. Most of David's Psalms are personal conversations with God.
"Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy" Psalm 86:1
"Show me a sign of your favor, that those who hate me may see and be put to shame because you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me." Psalm 86:17
God calls me to come to Him and allow Him to work in my heart, growing His Holy Spirit in me. I just have to continue to come and ask. And I get in my own way. My heart can get very hard. Impenetrable. And even then, I know I'm wrong. I weakly, out of obligation, call to God. The wise Christian in me is able to whisper, God, help. Work in me to grow my faith in You. Remove these doubts and these desires for things outside of You. I continue that prayer right now. I know I need it.
A memory popped up today on Facebook from four years ago, reminding me that God goes before me in all that I do:
"The Lord will fight for you; you only need to be still." Exodus 14:14
It also reminded me that we've been following God in this battle for a long time. We have seen victories and we have seen defeat. And right now I feel drained. But, I don't have to stay here. How much am I trying to fight on my own? How much am I listening to the voice in my head tell me that I am defeated? That God doesn't care and isn't trying to connect with me? I don't need to listen to this noise. I only need to get quiet and listen for Him. Listen for Him in every circumstance. My emotions, my family, my business, my choices for our future. Thank you, God, that I don't have to fight these battles, but that You fight them for me. Thank you for the reminder to be still.
I hope you all are faring well in the storms tonight and each individual storm you're facing. Remember that it's a choice to fight it alone or lean on God for help. Love y'all!
As the days wear on, it becomes more and more real to my heart that Chad is gone and won't be coming home. I've always known it in my mind, but now my heart aches. I've typed this all before and a voice in my mind wants me to stop repeating myself and stop typing, but I know that is not the direction I am meant to go. I know I have to push through and write this entry. And the next. And so on.
I think back on the days in hospice. Those days enter my mind constantly. When they were fresh, I knew that Chad could not stay here and that God was welcoming him with open arms, even carrying his broken body into heaven for healing. Now, I linger in the memory of sitting by his side, smelling his skin, kissing his forehead, and I wish for more time that he was here, listening to me. More time that his soul was on this earth. That's all selfishness.
Most of my memories are from when he was well. Every place, every conversation, every thing brings me a memory of him. And, when I allow the thoughts to come, I can forget that--at the end--he was so unwell. I can feel the injustice of his death. I can start to ask "Why?" I can start to be angry. Then, gently, God reminds me that Chad was not well. Healing was not for him here. He was ready to go. His work on this earth was done and it was time to join our Heavenly Father.
I remember sitting by his side and telling him that it was okay to go. My whole heart didn't agree with those words, but I knew it was selfish to allow him to hang on and struggle for every breath. We waited and watched for healing and it didn't come. I watched every day for the slightest glimpse of improvement and everything just got worse. God's will was not in healing on this earth. If it's not His will, then I don't want any part of it. Even if it means that my heart breaks every day, a hundred times a day, I now that God's will is best.
I have to keep returning to God. If I don't, then I can sink into a feeling of meaninglessness. I continue to try to fill the void with distractions and temporary pleasures. Everything is a drug: TV, busyness, friends, working out, food, drink. I only want to escape this. The terrifying truth is that there is no escape. Distractions work to pass the time, and they offer momentary relief, but the emptiness is just waiting for me. Waiting for when I get quiet. And eventually, I need to get quiet. To work through it all. To sit with God and see what He has to tell me.
Today, I made time for this. I didn't sleep well last night, but I was determined to get up and Levi was a great alarm clock. I am glad he went back to sleep so that I could sit quietly and read. Today God reminded me of his never-ending love for me. He reminded me that suffering is real and hard and unavoidable, but that He is worth it all. His plan for me is worth all the pain.
I have been feeling so selfish in my prayers lately. When I honestly pray, I am completely focused on my suffering. I have been feeling guilty about this. God showed me in Psalms that it's okay to cry out to Him from my perspective, from my experiences. Most of David's Psalms are personal conversations with God.
"Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy" Psalm 86:1
"Show me a sign of your favor, that those who hate me may see and be put to shame because you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me." Psalm 86:17
God calls me to come to Him and allow Him to work in my heart, growing His Holy Spirit in me. I just have to continue to come and ask. And I get in my own way. My heart can get very hard. Impenetrable. And even then, I know I'm wrong. I weakly, out of obligation, call to God. The wise Christian in me is able to whisper, God, help. Work in me to grow my faith in You. Remove these doubts and these desires for things outside of You. I continue that prayer right now. I know I need it.
A memory popped up today on Facebook from four years ago, reminding me that God goes before me in all that I do:
"The Lord will fight for you; you only need to be still." Exodus 14:14
It also reminded me that we've been following God in this battle for a long time. We have seen victories and we have seen defeat. And right now I feel drained. But, I don't have to stay here. How much am I trying to fight on my own? How much am I listening to the voice in my head tell me that I am defeated? That God doesn't care and isn't trying to connect with me? I don't need to listen to this noise. I only need to get quiet and listen for Him. Listen for Him in every circumstance. My emotions, my family, my business, my choices for our future. Thank you, God, that I don't have to fight these battles, but that You fight them for me. Thank you for the reminder to be still.
I hope you all are faring well in the storms tonight and each individual storm you're facing. Remember that it's a choice to fight it alone or lean on God for help. Love y'all!
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