One Year Old

A few days ago, my blog reached it's one year anniversary. As I debate continuing with it, I am reflecting over the past year and can see that the blog has been a big help to me. I think repeatedly pouring out my grief has given vent to some of my worst pain, and just writing down thoughts and feelings has been therapy. Meeting others who also grieve--my kindred spirits--has eased my isolation and given me a special kind of comfort in community. And I am grateful for my readers who have faithfully encouraged me over and over again. It's been a true place of healing for me--my own little hospital room.

My blog started as a coping mechanism, mainly because I could hardly think or function. I would literally just sit my days away, staring into space, really just in shock, trying to absorb the truth of our loss. But now my blog is a daily habit that gets me going, and it's a soft way to start my day -- I don't do stress well at all anymore. I can't rush and hurry like I once did, I can't have a big to do list in front of me. I now simply ease my way quietly into each day.

Each morning I sit in the same spot in the corner of my couch near the fireplace ("my sacred spot") with my computer on my lap, and gather myself together for the day. It's quiet, and near the window, and I can see out, and see the weather and absorb the natural light. I wrap myself in cozy blankets. I glance at my email and then I read the daily devotional from Greg Laurie that comes in my email each day. Greg is a gifted pastor who lost his son about the same time we did, so he's a voice I have felt I could trust. His short and succinct devotional has kept me connected to God in my darkest days. It's been an anchor for my soul.

After that, about 7:30 am, I turn to my blog. When I'm up to it, perhaps once a week, I listen to the music on my blog page. It is a mixture of comfort and grief triggers, so I tend to be careful about when I listen and will spare myself unless I am alone, and have the time and strength to dip into all that longing and sorrow. If I listen, I cry, but on those days I feel better afterwards--emptied of my accumulated heartache.

Every day I check my blog roll to see if any of my grieving friends have posted, because their posts invariably strengthen me in some way--if only to help me feel not so all alone. I send little prayers up to God for them as I read. I care about their pain as much as if I had met them in person, and have had their tears on my shoulders. I am still not able to read anything lengthy or to even pray long prayers, so the short snippets of others' blog posts are just the right size. As I read, I send heartfelt "arrow" prayers to God, with the hope that He hears and will answer in His time and way.

I have yielded control a thousand times in the past year, and asked Him to do what only He can do --for me, my family, my friends, and my fellow grievers. I give God more leeway than I used to because now I know most things are out of my control.(How did I miss that truth before?) This planet and the human story are on their own trajectory, and only God can save the day. And He will. It is getting easier and easier to let go and turn things over to Him.

This blog represents many prayers, many tears and immeasurable loss. It's also been a very effective release for all of that. It's helped me to steady my rocking boat a bit. A side benefit has been that it's also forced me to focus on the here and now and the blessings in my life. When I first started blogging, I could hardly do that. I had to discipline myself to post anything beside pictures of Joey. I couldn't take my eyes off of him for a second. It was as if he was on life support and it was my job to monitor the machines to keep him alive. I couldn't leave his side. Now I feel he is safely inside--I carry him with me now. I always, always wish he were here, but now I know I will see him again.

So, on the one year mark, I am grateful for all that this blog has meant to me. It's a precious record of my long, difficult journey, interspliced with God's tender mercies. I'm just waiting to see what happens next.

Job 30:16 "And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have seized me.

Psalm 31:7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love,
for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul.