Hell. (Parental Guidance is advised.)

The world goes round.  The leaves continue to fall.  The sun continues to rise and its warmth beckons...

I am surrounded by grief, on every side.  I cannot comprehend the depths of it.  Apparently grief is known to be collective.  It layers upon layers, present griefs upon past griefs.  It comes in unpredictable waves, random ups and downs, and is always deeper and longer than I think possible.

If I have ever felt alone, it is now.  Not because the phone doesn't ring.  It does!  Not because, I don't see anyone.  I do!  But in the pit of my stomach, claws reach up and thrash around at my insides.  He is dead, they say.  And death feels like hell on earth.

How do I reconcile this with my faith?  Do cliches work in a moment like this?  When it feels like someone took a jagged knife and brutally sawed me in half, leaving my wounds gaping and raw, my other half in another world, separated by an eternity.

The amazing thing is, I have never blamed God for death.  GOD IS NOT THE AUTHOR OF DEATH.  HE IS THE GIVER OF LIFE!  He gives life to everything.

Death is awful!!  and God knows it!!  Jesus wept! (Jn 11:35) and He entered into death, grief, and suffering so that even the pits of hell could be filled with His hope and everlasting love.

His hand is not shortened that it cannot reach! Behold, the Lord’s hand is not so short that it cannot save... (Is 50:1)  He is aways bigger and better than we think!!

I am blessed to feel like I am in the pits of hell.  In this wretched place, I can begin to grasp the fullness of my salvation in Christ Jesus, my Lord, the depths to which his light reaches, even the darkness it is not darkness to you (Ps 139).  Separation, sin, and loss are all things He has overcome, and He's given me the keys.  He's given me the authority to loose what has been loosed in heaven and bind what has been bound in heaven.

I am here and I hate it.  Whether I like it not, death is present.  Separation is brutal.  Loss is profound.  But out of this place, I KNOW beauty will rise*.  God has sent me to the darkness, not because He's left me, or because He's not all-powerful, not perfect Love.  He sent me here to be glorified here... that His light might shine here... and that His grace might be sufficient here...

The real death happening right now is my own.  The death of myself unto the awakening of new life in Him.  He says to me, grieve now but soon you will go.  Go into the darkness in the confidence that even here I am Lord.  Even in death, I am Love.  I cannot do this.  But He is doing it anyway.

*Beauty Will Rise, Steven Curtis Chapman

Groceries.

I am exhausted from grief.

I went to pick up a few groceries and thought, Can I do this menial task without the trauma and stigma of being a widow? Can I go one minute without the inundating memories that tear at my heart and leave me weak, exhausted and wounded?

I started walking towards the store, distracted by my thoughts (as usual).  I realized, Oh! I forgot my bags!  So, I went back to car for them.  I walked into grocery store feeling frazzled and so tired...

I walked along the isles forgetting where everything is, circling the store three times for a very small list of basic items.  I was so distracted by memories of Lynn that I couldn't figure out how to function in the world around me.  I tried to smile at people, thinking, Lynn would have talked to that person.  He would have struck up some casual conversation that would of went on forever, driving me a little bonkers, leaving that person feeling loved, touched, and special, in the end.  

Me, I just smile shyly and walk on by, praying in my heart, Bless you!

I went through the Natural Section, only getting what I needed, knowing Lynn would have, pulled out his IPod, generated all kinds of new food ideas, excited about ethical food companies and whatnot, ending up with at least triple the amount of product in our grocery cart.  He was energized by the idea of supporting the causes of some of these companies.  His energy grew in the excitement of new food ideas, new recipes to try, new ingredients to substitute.  Sigh... our budget always flew out the window at the grocery store.  Oh! Lynn's adventures of food and cooking!

I was stopped short in the section filled with cross-cultural delicacies - the Indian food products lining the shelves, the Thai seasonings, etc.  I grabbed something off the shelf, just needing to buy it for the sake of Lynn!! (and my own enjoyment) Then hanging my head, I set it back on the shelf. I sadly turned away and stuck to my small basic-need list.

I smiled at the cashier and thanked her by name.  Lynn's Dad had taught him to always call people by their name.  It ministers to people in a profound way and has often been the inroad for meaningful conversations with everyday people we come into contact with.

Leaving the store, I arrived at my red corolla.  My mind still wandering, my insides aching, I pressed the pop-trunk button on my car key... and kept pressing it...  Suddenly I realized, This is not my car!  I was standing behind a different red corolla and mine was three cars down.  I was just close enough for any onlooker to see this idiotic woman continually pushing her key while her trunk opened three cars down.  :)

Oh, Lynn.  Are you laughing, too?

Baby Emily.

Yesterday morning, as I reached into the depths of my bedroom closet, planning to prepare Alea's birthday gift for this weekend, Roya entered upon the scene.  I was scared and dismayed that she would see the stash of clearance gifts put away for Christmas time strewn all around me on the floor.  But something else caught Roya's eye instead.  Up on the shelf in my old-house, painted-blue bedroom closet sat Baby Emily.

Baby Emily, you might be surprised - even shocked - to discover, is not a baby doll.  It is this small, stuffed, colorful bear, each limb squared off in different colours, with a zipper in the back, and a metal key chain hanging off the end.  It arrived in one of the many hand-me-down bags of stuffed animals we've received over the years and somehow became one of Roya's favorite toys.

As Roya's attachment to Baby Emily grew, Lynn became increasingly irritated by its presence in our family.  He could not stand this odd looking bear/key chain.  Even more so, he couldn't stand how Roya behaved with this small, odd toy.  She would act and talk like a baby, driving Lynn crazy, and making behavior choices we didn't allow in our home.

Soooo, earlier this past summer, Lynn took and hid Baby Emily.  He'd had enough, taken it, and hidden it in one of his drawers.

I opened this drawer a few weeks ago and laughed astonishingly to find Baby Emily buried beneath his shorts :)  I think I knew he put her there, but I forgot!

Hmmm... I thought.  Should I give this back to Roya?  Has she missed it? I guess I'll keep it and put it up on the closet shelf for now...

Now... Roya sees Baby Emily and cries out in pure glee, I found her!  I found her!  I found Baby Emily!  I missed Daddy so much and I missed Baby Emily and now she's back!

Roya's grief is very complicated.  She's not out there with her feelings like Alea.  On the outside, she's strong and literal.  She says very matter-of-factly, Daddy's in heaven, Alea. You don't have a Daddy anymore.  Then she looks for other ways to try and communicate her heart to the world: Unicorn feels sad and really misses Daddy.

I feel so blessed to be Roya's Mama, because I can relate to her deep introverted nature just enough to catch glimpses of her heart and notice (sometimes) her subtle cues: I know I'm not right out there with my feelings, but I'm still hurting, and I need help.

I often think of Hagar in Genesis 16, when she says, You are the God who sees me (Gen 16:13).   Whether we are out there with our feelings or not, we all need to be seen, especially when we're hurting.

Recently, I initiated a new tradition in our home called Pillow Time.  During Pillow Time, the three Erskine girls, the left-behinds, gather around a big stuffy pillow in the middle of the living room floor.  Each one of us takes her turn to say whatever needs to be said. I feel angry that Daddy died!  or I feel sad when I miss Daddy or I feel happy when I think of Daddy in heaven.  We share memories and express our feelings, sometimes punching the pillow, other times screaming into the pillow, other times not needing the pillow at all.  But we share our thoughts and feelings in a safe environment, where we can grieve together and heal together.

Yesterday, after Roya found Baby Emily, she asked, Can we do pillow time?  Baby Emily needs to be a part of pillow time.  I think that means Roya has something new to say.

More?

...come satisfy until I am more in need of You.  (Kathryn Scott, Breathe on Me Now)

There is so much I want to say about my day.  So many memories of Lynn that have captured my mind and heart throughout all the ups and downs of today... I watched some of my senior recital DVD from 2006 when I surprised Lynn with a song I had written for him called, You are My King.  I laughed and wept.  Then I watched us close off the night with our duet, The Prayer - a classic.  I laughed a lot over this one because the recording is so terrible.  Lynn would have hated watching it! I laughed at so many memories of us doing music together and how we were so competitive and perfectionistic in our own ways.  But what can I say?  When we had it, we had it :)

It reminds me of Alea's phrase that I keep trying to write about, but can't find the right words... When she saw Daddy in the casket at the front of the church building, she became very agitated (mild understatement).  The words that came out of her mouth at two years old were, Why won't he get up? and Where's the music?  Several times since that day, she has repeated that phrase, and there's no music.  For her, it captures the void she feels without Lynn.

At the end of a day that seems to have depleted my resources, Where's the music?

Then, I hear this prayer come through the speakers of my IPod dock: come satisfy until I am more in need of You. 

Is this really what you want me to pray, God?  That I might be more in need of You?  That I haven't suffered enough, haven't been low enough?  The cost of my praise isn't high enough?

God is boldly confronting me in my grief and asking me for more.  He knows me.  Before a word is on my tongue, He knows it.  He is reaching into that part of me deep inside that says, This is my life, or I want it my way, or NO MORE PAIN!

He knows what's coming and He's doing a fast work.  Do you own your life?  Or do I?  Which is it going to be, cause we're going all the way.  

I learned a long time ago to embrace suffering, to allow God to shape me in the context of pain.  But I don't feel happy about it.  Where is the music?

The answer, God, is yes.  You may have my life and do with it what you will.  I am crucified with Christ and I no longer live but Christ lives in me.  The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.  (Gal 2:20)

I believe, help me in my unbelief. (Mark 9:24)

The spot.

Today was the day.  I knew it was coming.  I had a hunch it would be today...  It was time to visit the spot.

I sat beside the spot on the grass where my husband had lain before the paramedics lifted his body into the ambulance.  I listened while Andrew revisited that night and told me everything he could remember.  I longed for a sense of closeness, longing as Lynn's wife, to be with him in those last moments.  I wanted to enter in to any amount of pain or fear he might have felt, longing to hold his hand and smile into his eyes...

This is actually not as bad as it might sound.  It is grief, but it is also healing.  It's just something I needed to do.  If there is anything I've learned about grief, it's that you cannot heal unless you grieve!  (...and don't rush!)

Listening to my friend share his thoughts and memories of that experience, God strengthened me.  I knew He was in control on that night, His fingerprints were on everything.  But to hear Andrew's perspective helped to abase the fears that crept into my heart, Did he suffer? Was he afraid? Was he lonely?  Was he conscious? 

I am more confident now that God had not only prepared me for this life-changing event, but he had prepared Lynn.  Andrew and I talked about his dreams, ways that God was present, signs that Lynn was peaceful.

I know, with my girls, we have to start establishing a new family.  My girls need the security of a new normal... and so do I.  I know God has been strengthening me for the road ahead, every step painful but a step, from glory to glory (2 Cor 3:18).  I chose many years ago to become an overcomer (Rev 2:7f).  I serve a God who reached into the pits of hell and spoke His love that never fails (2 Cor 13:8).  He looks at death and says, believe me and you will see the glory of God. (Jn 11:40)  I KNOW in whom I have believed!

For I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day. (2 Tim 1:12)

And so lead me my Good Shepherd, to lie down in green pastures, along the still waters, restore my soul. Lead me in the way everlasting for Your name's sake.  (Psalm 23)

Eric.

Close your eyes, Alea... Are they closed?  

Yeah.  

Okay, once upon a time there was a little princess with long blond hair and big blue eyes.  She wore a pretty pink dress with ribbons flowing down from her hair.  She was walking through a beautiful forest on a warm sunny day...  Suddenly she came to a wide open field.  The field had long green grass, purple flowers, and white ones.  

And pink?  Alea questions.

Oh, yes, and pink flowers.  The sun was shining down on the girl’s face and the birds were singing.  She couldn’t help herself, but a song came into her heart.  She ran out into the field and danced.  She twirled and danced and sang with the birds in the air as the sun was warm on her skin and the leaves moved with the wind...  And as she danced, God was there, smiling on her, loving on her, and dancing with her.  It was him who put the song in her heart!  He's like a big strong Daddy who is always there....

Was it Eric?  Alea interrupts. 

What?  

Was it my Prince?

Ahhh, Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid...  Hmmmm.  Yes, honey.  God is your Prince.  He is your Prince of Peace (Is 9:6), the Prince of Princes (Dan 8:25), the Prince of Life (Acts 3:15). 

Even a two-almost-three year old can sense the longing in her heart to be loved.  

We are still loved and covered under a good and gracious God.  He is a father to the fatherless and a defender of widows (Ps 68:5)  He is our heroic Bridegroom and perfect Peace. 

In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Ps 4:8)

Denial.

If you had asked me yesterday whether or not I was currently living in denial, I would have said no.

Then I read my *Grief Share devotional.

It talked about denial as a natural reaction to grief, one of life's most painful events.  Different from the initial state of shock, denial is more dream-like.  Everything is in slow motion.

It goes on, however, to say that at some point, you must make a decision to move beyond the denial.  

I am aware of some of these dynamics in my present state of being.  Shock is gone, and denial is starting to fade.  But the reality of moving forward, living in the awareness that Lynn is no longer a part of my life, is so utterly painful and absurd that I am tempted to hold back!  Let's not lie, denial has its perks!  Still, in denial, all is not well.  My memories are more real than my present, my past more important than my future, my growth... stunted.

This is not about pushing myself forward.  If there's any word I've received from the grief resources I'm reading, it's Don't rush!  Still, the question remains - Am I willing to, at some point, acknowledge that I have to live my life alone? that I'm a single mother?  mainly... that Lynn is no longer a part of my life?

I know I will be in this state of transition for a long time.  It feels like living in two worlds.  In one world, I'm still married to Lynn.  He's my husband.  He finishes my sentences and I finish his.  In another world, I know he's gone.  I know people feel uncomfortable sometimes if I talk about him too much.  I know I'm supposed to act like he's gone because he really is.

The latter world still feels like the fake one.  My dream-world of Lynn seems much more real and much more comforting.

"Holy God, Is it time for me to move on from denial?  Lead me, Lord.  Amen"

*Through a Season of Grief, devotions for your journey from mourning to joy by Bill Dunn and Kathy Leonard