Holding On and Letting Go...a season of change

Change is coming.

Whether I embrace it or resist it, change is coming.

Not just the seasonal change that is already evident in my daily walks...
there is the hint of crispness in the early morning air as I head out the door, and the early achiever trees have already dropped brown leaves that skitter and crunch beneath my steps ...

the raucous honking of the Canadian geese draws my gaze upward to their graceful flight as they soar southward...
the small clumps of subdued children gathering at the corner bus stops, stooping under backpacks weighed with the evidence that carefree summer days are over.


Not just the physical changes that appear in my mirror each morning....
new gray strands in my hair...
 new wrinkles around my eyes and mouth (smile lines, I hope!)...
 hands that I don't recognize as mine when I unexpectedly focus on them (how did I suddenly get my grandmothers hands, anyway?)

No, this change is more challenging, more profound, and demands more of my heart and soul to adapt to it.

The rhythm of my newly constructed life without Bob is being upended, and like the child's game of Fruit Basket Turnover, everything is in motion and disarray until it settles into a new arrangement.

Change is coming and I must choose how to respond.

I must choose what to hold onto and what to let go of in this season of change. 

I won't pretend that it isn't hard.
Unlike the geese, I am moving north.  I am moving to Minnesota.


                                                                           

In this move, I am letting go of the house I have loved more than any other that I have lived in through the years. This last home that I shared with Bob, its cheerful yellow walls and light filled rooms are also filled with memories of him sitting on the deck listening to the birds while enjoying his morning coffee, gazing through the skylights enjoying the splashing and pattering of falling rain, sitting with the grandsons in the front yard swing, and resting in his recliner as the sun streamed through the windows as he grew weaker.

I am letting go of sweet times with friends that have loved me, listened to my grief and also laughed with me, lunched with me and lifted my spirits, making this past year a year of joy and not just a year of sorrow.
                                                                        

I am letting go of my church and my Bible study group, both of which have fed me spiritually this past year with music and teaching and fellowship. Less importantly,  but still a change and an adjustment, I am letting go of all the familiar, multiple things that make daily life easy.... the grocery where I know the layout and can shop quickly, the hairdresser I finally found who can bring some style to my limp hair, the restaurants and stores and doctors and dentists that are part of the seamless routine of my days.
I am moving to a new state, a new climate, a smaller home.

And, as part of this move, I am making choices as I pack,  what do I hold onto, what do I let go?

 Of course, some decisions  are easy.  The clothes that no longer fit, the marred table that was bought to "make do" until getting something better, the serving tray that has taken up space for years and only pressed into service a time or two, these are easily released.
 But then there are the things with emotional weight,  possessions that have moved with me across the years, across many states and life stages, things that have memories associated with them of people or events in the past. Do I keep or release the large rattan bookcases that Bob brought back in the hold of the ship from his first deployment? What about my basket collection from the years as a consultant for the company, books that I've collected and read that reflect various seasons of my life, decorative items from a trip, an experience, a gift?

 And, harder yet. Things that were Bob's, that were of value to him but no longer serve a purpose. The box of heavy wooden and metal plaques that were given to him at the end of each duty station in the Navy, his uniform medals, his collection of caps, pictures presented to him from appreciative shipmates of ships and chapels where he served. Physical representations of his life and ministry which are hard to part with but which I don't have space for anymore.

      

As I consider each item, I ask, "Do I need this? Is it truly useful to me?", and if not, I ask Marie Kondo's question, "Does this spark joy?" Another quote from her that has been helpful is, "When you come across something that you can't part with, think carefully about it's purpose in your life...many of the things you possess have already fulfilled their roles. To truly cherish the things that are important to you, you must first discard those that have outlived their purpose."

                                                                         

But the process of holding on and letting go of physical possessions and places also applies to my thoughts and attitudes.  And this is the deeper process.


I can choose to focus on what I have lost and am losing, on the pain of saying goodbye and letting go, or I can choose to fix my focus on what I am holding onto.


David Jeremiah said in a sermon, "Sometimes we concentrate so much in what we've lost that we forget what we still have." An author, Kate Morton, writes, "You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing." And the greatest Author of all reminds me, "Do not call to mind the former things or ponder things of the past. Behold I will do something new, now it will spring forth, will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert." (Isaiah 43:18-19)

It is not that I am to ever forget to cherish the people and events and places of my past that have been so precious to me. But I cannot live in the past. I cannot spend my time pondering what is gone to the detriment of what is present and what God still has for me.  When I am tempted to lament what I have lost and am losing,  I remember two small  but powerful words in Scripture that make all the difference in how I view this change in my life.

"But God"...

Throughout His Word, this little phrase reveals that there is a deeper plan and purpose that what we are experiencing on the surface.
Joseph, sold into slavery by his own brothers, many years later confidently says to them, "you meant it for evil, but God meant it for good."
The Psalmist in his despair cried out, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
Peter proclaims to the men at the temple, "You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead." 
After writing a description  of the degenerate, sinful former state of the Ephesian believers, Paul gives them the amazing truth, "But God, who is rich in mercy, because of his great love for us, made us alive in Christ even when we were dead in transgressions---it is by grace you have been saved."

Like a nugget of gold gleaming in a cold, muddy stream of worthless gray rocks, this little phrase, but God,  is a glittering treasure to transform my attitude from loss to anticipation. 


 I remember "but God " has a good plan and purpose for me in this move, that he is already providing all that I need to not just survive but to thrive, that he is not just good all the time in the abstract but that he is good to me personally all the time, that he is writing my story as a part of a larger story and this move is just a new plot twist to bring him glory.
                                                                                  

                                                          &nbs



It matters where I put the "but" in my life.
t matters whether I look at the events and circumstances and problems of my life and say, "I know God loves me and has a good plan for me, but this............".
Or I say, " I know this is hard, scary, sad, unfair, etc., but God is good and loves me and is my strength and provider, my rock and my refuge, my friend and my shepherd...and the list continues and reminds me that He is holding onto me, even when I forget to hold onto Him!;                                                                                  &nbs
And so, I sort and sift and each morning I get up and open my  Bible to hear from the One who knows me best and loves me most. With open hands lifted before me, I ask him to take that which I need to let go and to embrace what he desires for me to hold onto. To give wisdom in discarding and keeping possessions, but mostly that I let go of wrong attitudes and unhelpful thoughts and to enable me to hold on to thanksgiving and joy in this season of change.


To remain thankful for the life I have had with my husband, my family, my friends and to anticipate new joy to come.
To believe that this new season is a gift He is giving me, to be unwrapped each morning in my new home.
To rejoice that I will have all of my family in one place and be able to enjoy all my grandchildren all the time, not just in scattered visits.
                                                                                

To choose to view this new state and climate as an adventure as well as a challenge...perhaps I'll learn to say "uff-da"" and "you betcha",  instead of "ya'll" and "bless her heart", to take "hotdishes" to church socials instead of "casseroles", and maybe I'll even embrace the snow and learn to ice skate or snowboard! My motto is going to be, "Adventure Awaits!"




Each morning, before I begin choosing what to hold onto and what to let go,  I sing this song as a commitment and an offering.
                 " Lord, I offer my life to you, everything I've been through, use it for your glory.
                  And Lord, I offer my days to you, lifting my praise to you, as a pleasing sacrifice.
                  Lord, I offer you my life.
                  Things in the past, things yet unseen, wishes and dreams that are yet to come true.
                  All of my hopes and all of my plans,  my heart and my hands, are lifted to you."
                                         (you can hear the entire song here.)




If you are also in a season of change, especially a difficult change, trust God in the middle of your story and believe that He is writing it for your good and His glory.  Change can be hard, but God is good and He is good all the time, yes, even during times of change.

Learning as I journey...thoughts on Grief, Grace and Glory

Come, sit a spell with me. The coffee is brewing, the banana bread is just out of the oven--don’t you love those aromas? Listen, the bird choir is trilling their morning praises. I’ve opened the blinds so we can see the daffodils on the hillside…do you need their cheerful promise that spring is really coming as much as I do?

 

Winter has been too long this year, like an unwanted guest lingering at the door, unwilling to say goodbye and take his leave. My grief has found a mirror in his gray skies, chill winds and bone deep cold.
                                                                                
Maybe you’ve felt it too? It may not be, like mine, from the loss of a beloved husband.

                                                           
It may be another loved ones death.
   Or perhaps a different kind of death---
        the severing of a close friendship or family relationship,
                      the fracturing of a church family,
                          the burying of a long cherished dream,
                                     the abrupt termination of a profession or ministry that provided identity, purpose...


There are many losses in life that produce real, deep and heartfelt grief.

If this is not you, if not now, maybe someone you love is in this season and you are walking it alongside them. Maybe these words will help you to help them.

Settle in, my friend, as I share what God’s grace is teaching me. In winter’s dark gloom, yes, but also in unexpected moments where grace and glory break through in soul stirring light as I make my way through this journey.                                         

         

I share only as a sojourner, still learning with feet unsure to walk this road on which God is leading me. I have only my experience and God’s truth through His Word to share with you, but I offer them in hopes to comfort you (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) and to encourage and build you up in the Lord.(1 Thessalonians 5:11) .

I want you to know that grief is not neatly confined to a list of stages, it doesn’t follow a predetermined time line , there is no clearly marked map for this journey and it can’t be reduced to a formula.

 Grief is unruly, it is unexpected, it breaks boundaries and surprises you with its intensity when you think it is under control, then holding back as if not there at all when you most likely would expect it to unleash its full power.
For example, I went through Bob’s birthday in January with barely a tear, but dissolved in wrenching sobs a few days ago when I saw a grandfather walking down the sidewalk beside his little grandson...something my precious grandchildren will never have again.
                                                                                   
    I want to you to know that I am learning that grief is as deeply individual as the person who grieves, as unique as the person who is being grieved and as singular as the relationship they shared.
    I cannot presume to assume that I know what another widow is feeling or what shape her grief will take or how she should walk through it.

    I cannot presume that, even though I have buried my sister, my mother, and my dad as well as my husband, that I have any special insight into how someone else should handle these same losses, or any other loss.
    Our shared grief means I can sympathize, even empathize, even know some of the depths of hurt they are experiencing, but we are all different, with different personalities and spiritual resources and needs, and we help by respecting each other in those differences as we journey forward in grief.

 My timetable is not yours,

        my reactions are not yours,

                     my reality is not yours.

                       What you may see as denial is not necessarily true.

                          What you may think is moving forward and coping well is not necessarily true.

  And my interpretation of your grief expression may not be true, either.
 Only God knows the heart of His children and He alone knows how and why and what each of us needs in our grief.  And He doesn't judge us for it.

We need to give each other a lot of grace in grief.

We best help one another by loving and praying and listening and grace gifting each other to walk freely through our journey without the weight of expectations or external timetables.
We need to validate to one another the reality of the loss without trying to hurry the process of grieving or minimizing the time it may take for someone to adjust to this new reality of life.

I need you to remember that my grief is a present reality, not a past event.  I need to remember this for other people, too. The sharp edges of grief may not continue to pierce as often or as deeply, but whether it is 8 weeks or 8 months or 8 years, you are forever altered by your loss and it is always a part of you.

I want to share that the path of grief is made more bearable when other people show up to walk with you.

Grief is lonely and isolating, but contact from friends ease the loneliness by acknowledging that your grief is deep and real and it hurts and someone else cares about that. 

 On days when the cord of grief wraps me tightly in its hold, a phone call or text  or facebook post from a friend loosens the stranglehold and lets me breathe, lets me laugh, lets me remember that Satan is wrong and I am not alone on this journey. The friends who have been present for me have been a lifeline.

It isn't what they have said, it's that they said something...they showed up.
Nothing hurts more than the silence of a friend when you are grieving.

I am learning that joy can exist alongside grief, and neither cancels the other.

In a scene from a recent episode of the T.V. show, This is Us, the mother of the family, Rebecca, is on her knees in her sons kitchen, cleaning up a broken dish. She has just helped deliver her first grandchild, and as her son Randall walks in and sees tears pouring down her face, he questions uncertainly, “Mom?” She looks up and answers, “This was one of the happiest days of my life”. Randall, confused, asks, ”So, these are happy tears?” Softly, she explains, “But your Dad wasn’t here. And for the rest of my life my happiest moments will also be sad ones because he won’t be here to share them”.  YES. THIS.

In the nearly 8 months since Bob went home to Jesus, I have had many, many moments of joy, of laughter, of pure fun and pleasure. But there is always the reality of the absence of his presence along with the joy.
                                                                   
In all these things, the most important thing I have learned is that God’s grace really is sufficient. His word assures us that He will give grace and glory and He does, yes, He does!
 He comforts (Psalm 119:76),  He restores (1Peter:5:10),  He provides( Philippians 4:19), He hears my cries, (Psalm 34:18),  He meets me in my loneliness (Deuteronomy 31:6) He calms my fears (Isaiah 43:1-5), He strengthens me when I grow weary from grief and loneliness (Isaiah 4-:28-31) He always understands me, (Psalm 139:1-6),  He quiets my spirit and restores my soul (Psalm 23) and lifts my mood (Psalm 92:4)
He gives more grace when it is needed most…through His Word, the Bible, through the gentle whisper of the Holy Spirit, through songs and hymns, through other people, through memories, through unexpected beauty in creation and art, in all these ways and more God’s grace embroiders my days with His glory.
                                                                         

                                                                          

I have been in conscious pursuit of God’s glory these past few months.  It began with a Bible study, Glory Chasers , by another widow, Dorina Gilmore. Then it continued with the book A Million Little Ways by Emily P. Freeman, and quotes and verses about God’s glory began leaping off the pages in my devotional reading. It has been the golden thread that God has woven through these winter days of grief, the shining strand of truth and hope and promise that has brightened griefs dark weave. I seek answers and insight...What does it mean to be created for His glory? How do I live that? How do I experience God's glory now? What will His glory be when someday I see it unveiled? How can God's glory impact my grief, my joy, my very life?  This quote captures me,  "Gods grace is His glory fully realized in us." (Mike Daniel)

And the more I receive of God’s grace and glory, the more I pray that I will be able to share that grace with others.

I have often failed to grant the grace to other people that I accept for myself.  I am so sorry.

If grief has taught me anything, I hope it has taught me to be more tender, more kind, more forgiving, more grace filled. I pray every day for this to be true in me.

We all are grieving something. Or we will be.

Let’s be grace gifters to each other in our grief. Let’s set each other free to grieve in our own way, in our own time, with love and support and grace to all. This is what I wanted to share with you. Now it's your turn....please comment and let me know what you are learning about grief or grace or glory....we are all sojourners together, all calling back encouragement to each other on the way!