A New Season of Grief
I’ve entered into a new season of grief. The days when each breath felt like a fight for survival are long gone. Intense therapy, individual grief work, a loving community of widows, and the slow passing of time have worked together to allow the pain that once screamed to fade to a dull roar. It no longer hurts to breathe and I don’t feel nauseous when I eat. I don’t wake up each morning to the startling realization that my husband is gone and wonder how I will ever make it through the day.
As my friend and fellow widow Clarissa Moll says, grief is now my companion. Grief comes with me everywhere I go– showing up in the ordinary moments of laundry, dishes, and commuting to work, as well as the big moments of birthdays, holidays, and the turning of a calendar page. Grief is a thread that is woven throughout my days. It never goes away, yet only on occasion does it bring the depth of pain that it did at first.
For over two years after my husband’s death, life felt like a prolonged dismantling of all I knew. Every thread that we had woven together into the fabric of our life throughout two years of dating and 13 years of marriage was cut one by one until only pieces were left. My husband was gone and the threads that held us so tightly together were now severed. My identity, faith, and purpose were all stripped down to the core. I was no longer a wife and partner. I was no longer a caregiver or my husband’s support in ministry. Nearly everything I had used to define myself was gone.
In her children’s devotional Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing, Sally Lloyd-Jones explains that the first thing builders do when making a skyscraper is dig a huge hole. For years, it looks like nothing is happening but the builders are “digging down to go up.” They are preparing a secure foundation on which the towering structure can securely stand. In the same way, God often uses suffering to dig down deep into our souls, excavating the rock, dirt and debris from our life so that he can build a secure foundation– one that is built on him alone. God used my grief as a chisel–digging out the debris in my life– until all that was left was the firm foundation of who He says I am: a chosen, beloved, child of God.
Around the two year anniversary of my husband’s death, I realized I had to make a choice. I could cling to the life we had or follow God into the new life He had for me. I could let despair take over or I could choose to rebuild. No matter what I chose, my husband wasn’t coming back. Refusing to move forward wouldn’t bring him back. I had to bravely step into the unknown without my husband by my side.
Fists clenched, heart pounding and knees shaking, I stepped into this new season– a season of rebuilding. The temptation in this season is to rebuild my life on something or someone else aside from Jesus. I am tempted to look for escape routes that do not require so much trust. I want a path of ease, a clear direction or a new relationship to fill the holes. Waiting and walking into an unknown future with only God by my side feels so much harder.
This is where God has me; having to trust Him and lean on Him when I don’t know where I’m going. Without an instant fix to my circumstances, I am having to deal with my heart. As I seek to rebuild, God is excavating even more: my idols of companionship and romance; my fear of being overlooked, alone, and unloved; my jealousy and comparison. Old struggles have returned in new ways: body-image issues that used to plague me, my desire for security and fear of the future. Some days, it seems that the digging down will never end.
Without a partner, lover, and built-in-best-friend, I cannot quickly soothe my discomfort and loneliness– at least not in God honoring ways that will bring true healing. Instead, I am being forced to take my desires, longings, and sin to God. He is letting me sit in it: the loneliness, the questions, the fear and the doubt. While it is uncomfortable and I still find myself searching for an easy way out, I am also slowly learning that Jesus is enough. When I take these burdens to Him each day, I find that His grace is sufficient. His love is enough to satisfy my deepest longings. His forgiveness is enough to cover my sin. His strength is enough to resist temptation when I am weak.
This season of rebuilding is not easy, but I am not in it alone. The very same God who sustained me through the darkest days of grief will sustain me here too.
In Christ,
