I See It Every Day...

Did you know that I have to drive by John's accident site? 

I see it every day...

Sometimes up to six times a day.

A wooden cross, my old motorcycle helmet, my nephew's plaid shirt, a little scarecrow, a sunflower. It's all there, placed beside the spot where he died. 

I made my brother drive me by the accident site a little while after John died. I did not want to live in anxiety over the place where part of my life ended. I knew if I didn't go by it sooner, rather than later, that I might never be able to do it. So he, my sister, and mother, drove me by. I braced my soul for the pain and I wiped the tears as they fell. He drove quickly by the place where John's body was broken beyond survival and I thought "how can this be real?".

A few weeks later I decided to that I needed to go and finally face it alone. I needed to see it...to recognize it for all that it is...and all that it isn't. I felt the grooves in the pavement made by John's motorcycle, and by the car that killed him. I studied the marks made by the State Police as evidence. I stared at the mountain John loved so much, overlooking the scene. I stood on the spot where life and death collided.

I froze there in that moment, alone and broken, absorbing all that I could from the place where "wife" was stolen from me and "widow" was bestowed. 

This stretch of road changed my life forever. But I still don't want it to define my life forever.

It threatened to overwhelm me, in those first few weeks. I felt the weakness in my spirit that allowed grief to define life. I was broken and helpless against something far more powerful than myself. But, little by little, the Holy Spirit continued to whisper life back into my heart, until, one day, I was finally able to hear it again. 

I am just so thankful for the hard work of the Holy Spirit that encourages change and prosperity in Christ for every Christian that allow themselves to hear it. 

I looked at my friends the other day and I said "I'm happy. My husband died...and I'm still able to be happy again. It's possible."

Because it is. It's possible to feel wonderful joy again. To see the happiness that can still exist in a world without John.

I see it every day...

It's in the laughter of all the amazing kids who lost their "Uncle John" and in the ways they each choose to love me and take care of me. It's in the games we play and the things we do that remind us of him, and the wonderful life we all had with him. Our siblings, parents, and friends have challenged themselves in their own grief and carried me when I couldn't walk, and shepherded me when I took those first shaky steps in rejoining the land of the living. How can the joy of the Lord not be seen in such sacrifices?

I find it in the autumn breeze and the winter chill. Such a beautiful reminder that nature is still true and steadfast, like the Lord's faithfulness. The seasons have come and gone since John's death, and I have seen the wonderful joy that still exists in this world. Because the world is the same...I am the one who has changed. And, yet, I get to decided how that change manifests. I can choose to live in the darkness of grief, or I can choose to allow the joy of the Lord to soothe the grief, to unburden my soul. 

I can feel the changes of the world shifting around me. The changes that will redefine me as a Christian woman living in a broken world. I can either stay in my dark corner, fearful of all the changes that must take place, or I can walk out into the world and see the sun shining through the shadows. Because I know that there is a future for me, one that promises welfare and not calamity. I know that there is the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 

I see it every day...

It was in the generosity of friends and strangers who donated to a broken widow during grief and despair. I felt it in every prayer and concern laid down from each member of my community, in every hug and every tear shed for my pain. 

I can see it in the hope for a new future, a new plan, a new life. In the promises for tomorrow that still exist for today. 

I can see it in the mantle of grief that has been lifted off of my shoulders. In the knowledge that time is, indeed, a tool for healing. As long as you put in the effort to process through your own brokenness. For healing is a fickle thing, brought only to those who usher it into the hollowed halls of their grieving hearts. You cannot sit back and allow bitterness and anger to dwell in a place where you are asking healing to come. 

We must take charge of our grief, and our healing. We must do the hard work of processing through grief and choosing the joy of the Lord to focus on. There is no timeline for grief and healing, that is true. One of John's favorite quotes comes to mind often in regards to this: 

"Be not afraid of going slowly, be afraid only of standing still."

Because, if you don't, then stagnant grief will shape your perception of the world. It will make you lose sight of the glory of God and the faithfulness of His spirit. It will cause brokenness to be perceived as unbeatable, and hopelessness to seem unbreakable. I do not say such things lightly, or without the understanding of their truth. It is so very often how grief works...

I see it every day...