Friday, October 25, 2013

healing through the dark

I slowly rise to begin my day.
Nothing about this act of waking up feels new or refreshing as it should.
The sun has made its descent. I know it is afternoon by the deeper glow of the light pouring through the ebony blanket draped across the bedroom window to keep the early morning light out. But one cannot keep the light out. It finds its way in. Isn't that the beauty of it?

I rise only to find that I want to lay down again.
The sun will set in a few hours anyway.
The night time seems to be all that I know.

8 months ago I was awakening to the fresh hope of being a newlywed and all that the world had to offer.
Until I married, I hadn't really experienced slowness in my days. My heart has been on GO for some years now - striving, serving, giving, surviving. I knew I was looking forward to becoming a hermit once I married so that I could "catch up" on all my drained resources, as well as settle into the simple bliss of being with the man I adore. But I hadn't expected this. This grief. This emptiness from all that has passed. It has been a disillusionment that caught me by surprise. I question my faith, not because I do not believe in Christ my Lord and Savior, but because I am wondering how does my Maker meet me and care for me where I am at? How do I trust Him to meet me where I am at? I never experienced this before and I am walking out the grief of things I have witnessed, experienced, and lost in the past several years.

In the midst of the miraculous fairytale that has been my relationship with my dear husband, I have also tasted some of the most bitter days of my life - the loss of my family as a unit. Or, at least, the loss of them as a unit that I desired and dreamed of. Family will always be family, regardless of where we travel in this life, but the harmonious, trusting, safe, and intimate togetherness that I dreamed of for my family to know and to live has crumpled underneath the weight of this harsh reality: Irreconcilable differences.

In the midst of the pain I am experiencing from the choices of some of my loved ones, I also feel the sting of my own naive, dreaming self. Perhaps, the disappointment is my own fault, I think. Why does dreaming in this life have to hurt so darn much?
I don't dream for them anymore. 
I hardly know how to rightly dream for myself. 

All I know at the moment is that I need to rest. 
I want to wake up and feel the freshness of an entire day ahead of me, one in which I can see the sun rise and set. I want the motivation that comes from valuing the sacredness of this life. I want to thrive, not merely survive.

So, I am learning how to entrust my healing to Him who has given me everything. I am learning that grief is not something you merely recover from, but it is something that walks with you as you mature into who you truly are in Christ. I am learning what creative outlets are beneficial for me during this process. And, perhaps most significantly, I am learning that Love is truly patient. I am learning to extend the patience to myself and to those surrounding me. This is divine grace in the nitty-gritty. This is healing through the darkness that hangs over our earthly paths, clutching near the tender hope that the sun will rise again.

Perhaps one of the most refreshing discoveries for me has been the world of blogging. I find myself built up and strengthened from those who are walking through their own unique paths of grieving and healing. It grants me a sense of relief to know that others are like myself, walking through their own story of loss and heartache.

The Right Question to Ask on Your Hard Days...and the Answer ~ Ann Voskamp

One Year: Redeeming Grief ~ The Cottage at 341 South

A Severe Mercy ~ Eat Live Make

Way of Grief ~ Eat Live Make 

Meghan, blogger of Eat Live Make, puts it well when she writes, 

"I think I have grieved the loss of a life that I imagined for myself. The loss of the life that I imagined for the people around me....I have also learned how to rest. I have learned the beauty of silence and have also learned how to not over-commit myself. These are the graces I am seeing from the pain and grief I went through. And I know that God can and will redeem anything and everything in His time. I am always waiting for His redemption."


  1. I am finally catching up your blogs! You write so much, good for you! It's wonderful.

    This hurt my heart reading because I feel the same way you do about your family. It just seems so... I can't express it. My heart is totally with you, love you!

    1. Yes...maybe this was too much sadness for one post. But it was good to release it.
      Thanks for being here and praying with us. :) God will one day bring a new kind of beauty from this season.