Somewhere along the way, we all get a little lost. Take a turn that leads into unfamiliar territory, make a move that, even before it’s finished, we know it was a bad one. We go about our daily lives oblivious to anything except what is happening at that particular moment in our own circle, be it our circle of family, circle of friends or circle of work. We think about our health, our cars, our pets, our homes. We think about what we’ve lost and what we hope to accomplish. And there’s nothing wrong with that, at least on a limited scale … but when our eyes can no longer focus on anything that goes past the end of our nose, then it becomes a problem and it is at that moment that we become lost. Now, mayhaps you are reading this and saying to yourself that this is utter nonsense and that people don’t get lost within themselves. But I ask you, where else does one get lost? Who holds us prisoner at night when we are tossing and turning, chasing sleep and trying to outrun dreams that plague us? Who taunts us to believe the worst about ourselves and remind ourselves of all the wrongs, mistakes, harsh words and missed opportunities that have come and gone in our lives? Who congers the ghosts that threaten our very sanity and then curl into a ball when we reach the lowest level we can go and still have a pulse? At what point do we stop beating ourselves up for a past we cannot change and a future we cannot control? I look back on my own life way more than is good for me. I revisit embarrassing moments and know, without a doubt, that the person or persons who were a part of it think of it as often as I do. Memories of tears and pain that have been long past resurface and again, I am certain that the other parties involved think of it, too. It is at this point that I cannot see past the nose on my face. When my own shortcomings force me to admit loudly and often how imperfect I was, am and forever will be, I am, without a doubt, my own worst enemy. Moving forward is the only option, unless death gets to us first and the only way to move forward is to cut the bonds that hold us in place. I’m looking for the scissors even as I write this … how about you?
Tag Archives: moving forward
Time heals all wounds. How many times I have said that. Then, after my husband Jim’s death, how many times I heard it. The first time I heard it, I was immediately sorry for every time that phrase had passed through my lips. I vowed to never say it again and I haven’t. Instead, I tell the truth as I have found it to be. I tell people who have recently lost a very significant person in their lives to death that the first year is the hardest 365 days they will ever face and the second year, especially in the beginning, won’t be much better. It is a path strewn with obstacles, fear, grief, anger, betrayal, loss and a brokenness that feels like it will never end. As soon as one “first anniversary without” passes, another one is on it’s heels. And if no anniversary is imminent, there are the songs, movies, people and places that bring the loss so close it threatens to suffocate me. Alone, I am no challenge to such deep pain. I, on my own, would have folded the first week, tucked my tail between my legs and given up. But I wasn’t alone. He who knows all about me, including the horrifying loneliness and gut-wrenching emptiness, was with me. When I was unable to hold my head up, He held it for me. When I went days without sleeping or eating, He knew. When I broke down and sobbed because I had no place for the hurt to go, He stroked my hair. When I found no joy in photography, He showed me something incredible. He made me realize that I was not, nor had I ever been, alone. He showed me that I, though lost without Jim, had to heal before I could carry on for His glory. Healing is still a work in progress. It has been nearly two years, and while my thoughts are no longer consumed by Jim, I think of him several times a day. There is nothing wrong with that. At first, I felt guilt that my mind wasn’t filled with thoughts of him and cried about that nearly every day. I had no peace. That stunted my healing significantly. But, always faithful, God led me past that guilt into a place that let me find pieces of myself that I had hidden away during the months when I refused to feel joy. How, I asked myself many times, could I laugh and be joyful when the man I had given my heart to was dead. The real truth was revealed. Without my Heavenly Father, there would have been no joy to start with. With Him, I could feel joy and sorrow, loss and laughter, grief and happiness, all at the same time and it was ok. He showed me where peace was and, low and behold, it was right where I had left it… in His love. Healing really did begin after that realization but it wasn’t time that healed me, it was Jesus. So the truth is this: Time doesn’t heal anything … It only gives faith and grace the time to work as healing comes with reliance on the Lord. Whether the healing time is a few weeks or a few years, if God is given control, healing will, without doubt or reservations, come, and time will continue to pass because that’s what it does.