Chosen

Moving is never easy. The endless piles of things to put away, boxes yet to be unpacked, trash to deal with from empty boxes, painting, cleaning, arranging and rearranging...and all while regular life must go on. Moving to an entirely different state, AND away from everyone you've ever known, has it's own unique challenges on top of the regular ones. The excitement of the new and uncharted territory, of starting over, beginning again--has its ups and downs.

I absolutely LOVE where we live. I love our neighbors, I love our home, I love our oldest's new school and I love our new homeschool group for the younger 3. Although I was hesitant to look for another church home, I've fallen deeply in love with the one we've found here. And, as I'd mentioned to both of my brothers a while back, there is something easier about being in a new place altogether--one where I don't turn every corner and have a memory of daddy staring me in the face. I don't have to remember him sitting in my living room, laughing at my poker table, bowling with the boys on the Wii, or coloring in the dining room with my daughter. A new place is a new beginning--a starting over in a new normal.

Don't get me wrong. I WANT to remember. I WANT to picture him with us, doing things we love. But I NEED to do it on my own time, in my own way. I already have little things that sneak up on me and tear me apart on the inside without a moments notice. I don't want or need to be in a place where it's almost an hourly guarantee. Call it denial if you must. I call it self-preservation. I call it survival for the sake of holding it together and keeping the little shred of sanity I manage to maintain most days.

I know we serve a loving God. I know that He has my best interests in mind and that, although I cannot see the bigger picture, His ways are better than my own. And yet, for this last 16 months, I have felt so distant...struggling to convince my heart what I know in my head...that God is good, that He knows all my hurt, all my pain. I can tell myself and believe with all my head that daddy went when it was time, that he no longer suffers, that he is better off--that there is a bigger picture I cannot see, a bigger reason for my loss. I know in my head that God only takes us when our work is done, and not a moment sooner. But convincing my heart has been another matter altogether. I could not fathom for one moment that, while I knew God was with me, that He was truly beside me, seeing my pain and longing to bring me closer to Him through it.

And then I knew. I knew in that moment that He is here...truly HERE, in the thick of it with me. He not only sees my pain, He feels it. What burdens me, also burdens the heart of the living God. I cannot begin to explain to you how I knew or what changed. All I know is that in that moment of worship, my walls were torn down and my eyes were opened. He broke the barrier I'd created around my broken heart, took hold of me and held me like no other. He picked up the pieces of my broken world and is ever so gently, ever so graciously putting them back together, one by one.

My relationship with my Jesus, is in a new place. I no longer have a God who I turn to in times of trouble or times of joy. I no longer have a God who is out there somewhere waiting for me to grab hold of him in my time of need. Instead, He is my Healer, my Redeemer, my Confidant, my Wonderful Counselor. Before anyone else, my husband included, He is the one I turn to with my pain, my joy and also my every day, my every moment. What I knew with my head before I now know more than ever with my HEART. I am CHOSEN. He loves me more than I could ever possibly comprehend and He's not somewhere waiting for me to reach out for him. He's right beside me, simply waiting for me to trust Him with the details, waiting for me to lean on Him, and not my own understanding. I cannot put into words the difference that heart-knowledge has made in my life.

I don't know where you are, I don't know what you're struggling with, I don't know your pain. I don't know the trials you face, the temptations you fight, or the fear or anxiety or hurt you are going through. I don't know your thoughts or all the secrets you hide. But I know the One who does. Whether you believe it or not, whether you can fathom the reality or want to deny it altogether, THERE IS A GOD WHO KNOWS YOUR NAME, WHO KNOWS YOUR PAIN, WHO KNOWS YOU BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELF. And He LOVES you, sweet friend. I wish you knew that, deep in your heart...just how desperately, deeply, unconditionally he loves YOU. Because you see, you are also chosen...

1 Thess. 1:4 "For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that He has chosen you.."

I pray, sincerely, that one day soon you will see it too...

So Many Times...

So many times I've sat down to start this post. So many times I've laid in bed at night, ideas running through my head on what to say, how to say it. And yet now, when I finally sit down to write, they all escape me...

We've had a lot of life changes in the last 6 months, in the last year, really. I honestly don't know how it's been a whole year. My daddy died...a year and 6 days ago. I've lost track of time since then. In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday. In others, it seems like a lifetime ago. And yet, some days, I have to convince myself he's really gone. I still catch myself preparing to call or text him to share part of my day. I no longer physically reach for the phone, but my mind still starts to think of it.

Grief is a strange thing. You can hear about it, learn about it, read all you can to fully understand how it works. But when it's you, when it's your grief, it's different. It's never what they say it will be. Sure, it follows a basic pattern that experts have dubbed the "cycle of grief", but only in its basic form. And, at least for me, there's not just one trip around that cycle. For me, I believe I've been around it at least 3 times in the last year. And I don't see it stopping anytime soon. I think of it as a grief bicycle. I keep going and going and going.

Don't get me wrong, overall, it's getting easier...overall, I cry less often...overall, it doesn't sting as frequently...overall, I'm finding a new normal and moving on. But there are days...horrible, gut-wrenching days when I don't even want to get out of bed, I don't want to face this reality, I don't want it to be real. There are days when everything is going smoothly and out of nowhere I'm blindsided by wave after wave of grief for absolutely no reason. There are days when it's all I can do to hold it together, to force myself to keep moving, so as not to freak out my kids with the meltdown I feel just beneath the surface.

But there are other days too. Days when I can see something that reminds me of my childhood, of a story my Daddy once told me, of something we once did together...and I can smile. I can be in the moment and think to myself, "Daddy would love seeing this" or "Dad would crack up laughing right now", and truly, thoroughly, bask in the moment, and be happy. There are times when I watch my kids, when I listen to them, and my heart is so happy because I KNOW how proud their Papa would be if he could see them in that moment. And most days, when those moments come, I'm able to tell them just that--and not break down.

We've had a lot of changes in the past year, but especially in the past 6 months. Due to a job promotion, we moved from Oklahoma to South Texas only 6 weeks after finding out. It was also the middle of the school year, so we had a house to sell, new schools to look into, temporary housing to locate in a city we knew nothing about. We had to leave our church home and all of our dear friends, and move to a place where we only knew people Sean worked with. We are now 12 hours or more from our nearest family, except for one aunt and uncle. We finally found a new home after 4 months of being in an apartment, so we've spent the last 2 months moving and getting settled, as well as updating all of our adoption paperwork after the move. And after 5 months, we've finally managed to find a new church home.

We are beginning to find our new normal. We are starting to settle in. And now, as things are finally starting to slow down after this year of changes, I'm finally being forced to deal with all of the emotions that I've crammed down deep inside. I'm finally having to face reality, to go through day to day life with some time to myself once again. And I'm realizing how much of the emotion and grief I've suppressed. It's easy to ignore when your life is chaotic and busy. But once you slow down, when you find time to breathe, it all comes back to the surface and you're forced to deal with it head-on.

So we are working our way to normalcy...or some form of it. I must say, I don't write all of this for you to feel bad for me. I am hurt, I am changed, but I will be fine. And I am truly, utterly blessed. This move has been so good for us in so many ways and it's already beginning to feel like home. And I know one day, the pain won't be as strong, the waves of grief won't wash over me as frequently or with the same intensity. This is my struggle, my issue, and so many others have so much more to deal with than I can even begin to imagine. So please don't feel bad for me.

My purpose in sharing is just to shed light. To show anyone reading this that this is what grief looks like for me. And hopefully, to help someone understand that everyone's grief is different. And everyone's grief is their own--it's a journey only they can take. No one else needs to understand it; no one truly can. There is no right or wrong and as much as psychologists study, they will still never pinpoint exactly what you should feel and when. So if you're struggling today, if you've lost someone, if you're going through a difficult time, please know that what you're feeling is OK. Take as much time as you need to get through it to the other side.

Above all, know that as I walk through this new phase of life and it's unique-to-me challenges, I am praying for you...for all of you that struggle today as I do. I may not know your name, but I know the God who does. So I ask Him to comfort you, to heal you, to give you peace, to bring you to the other side of this struggle stronger than you were before, and closer to Him than you've ever been.