We are more defined by our words than we may realize. Jesus said, “…Words are powerful; take them seriously…” (Matt 12:36) (MSG) So, when someone doesn’t understand the weight of their words and the value of love, I try to limit my interactions with them. Right now, I can’t take a sermon on […]
I have a new hobby. Walking. Specifically, walking through my graveyard. It’s good for me mentally, spiritually, and physically. But to do it, I must come right home after work, quickly change my clothes, and get my graveyard shoes on. I like to see Deb before it gets dark. Right now, I have a
I knew the first week would be busy, setting up the funeral and being with family. But everyone had to go home. And that’s when the dreaded second week began. That’s when I’m surrounded with the uncomfortable silence. The real grief would start Monday, the first day I was alone. The black hole I
It turns out, I had a great time last weekend. Honestly, October 13th was a pretty good day. And it was surrounded by other good days. I would have bet money (hypothetically, of course, because I’m too cheap to actually bet money) that I’d be miserable that day. I imagined terrible things. I
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said “I don’t know” over the past three weeks. It’s like everything I once knew is now in question. I feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. After spinning through the air, I’m disoriented, unsure of what is happening. “Why are the horses green and
By God’s grace, I lived through the next few days. I ensured Mike, my mentor, would be with me that first Monday morning. I didn’t want to meet in a crowded, loud, obnoxious restaurant, and all restaurants seemed obnoxious to me. So, I had him over for breakfast at my house. It was
Something inside me wants to pick up the pace of mourning. I’m willing to swim in the waters of sorrow for a little bit, but then I need to get out and be in control again. If I could wade in the water, that would be better; that way, I could control the
No one told me that I’d have to be a grief counselor during my wife’s viewing. Everyone offered their love. Some, perhaps triggered by the loss of a spouse, struggled with their own unresolved grief stories. Instead of being comforted by them, I felt the pull to comfort them. But I didn’t have much
Dear Lord, Where are you right now? Have you forgotten me? Can’t you see my pain? I say the words “God is good,” but I don’t understand what that means. You teach me how weak my words are and how they skip along the surface. I assume you will lead me away
Sunday morning, I woke up and cried. Deb was gone; there was nothing I could do. No one was with me. I made this uncomfortable cry that sounded a little like I was sick like I was convulsing. It’s shameful to be out of control of my own body. And the crying hurt physically.
