Seven years...

Seven years…

It’s a long time. Two thousand-five-hundred-fifty-six days!

That’s a lot of living this life without your physical presence.

Seven years have contained some bad days; some days we weren’t sure we would survive.

So much change. Incredible growth. Hard roads walked; deep grief navigated.

Seven years have held some good days. Some days of thriving and confidence. Some days overflowing with pure happiness.

All days have possessed the common thread of your absence.

Each day also has been overflowing with the presence of God. He goes before, He walks beside, He hems us in from behind and He pours His blessing of peace within our souls.

Always loved. #EvenIf

 

I Will Give You Rest

“My presence will go with you and I will give you rest.” Exodus 33:14

Sometimes I am just tired.

Wiped out.

The exhaustion is typically fleeting; I know better than to allow myself to camp out in the negative thoughts of “woe is me”. My mind is trained to focus on the positive when I get tired or lonely.
But every once in a while I am so busy I fail to realize how tired I really am. When in a period of unacknowledged weariness, as I am chugging along with my daily responsibilities, oblivious to the time needed for true rest, tears will unexpectedly leak.  I am so distracted trying to be the best me I can be at work, in our home, with ministering to others, I can fail to pause and really feel those under the surface emotions.  Driving down the road, on my millionth errand of the day, not even thinking about him or the reality of widowhood…tears randomly fall from my eyes.  It is strange.  I am not sobbing.  I wouldn’t even classify it as crying, really.  Yet my eyes drip salty liquid of their own accord.

 

It’s as if my body is begging me to slow down and rest.

For the first few months after his passing, I suffered intensive physical grieving. There were sharp pains with each intake and exhale of breath, deep cutting twinges in my chest (doctors clinically describe this as a broken heart), full body joint aches, and a lot of fatigue.  It was excruciating and surreal.  I’m unsure of when the attacks subsided, but with time they did.  Just like my body knows when the 11^th rolls around each month, even when I am oblivious to the date on the calendar.  He passed away on the 11^th and since then I have found myself being more easily frustrated and on edge each month during that time.  It took me over a year to connect those dots and learn to control my responses; but like my body responds to dates subconsciously, so too does it know when I am overdoing it and need rest.

I was driving yesterday and my eyes did their odd little leaking thing.  Then again this morning as I was on mile four of a ten mile training run, they briefly started back up.  Stopped and reoccurred around mile seven.  I am void of emotion when this happens.  It is typically when my mind is free of detailed thinking; which is one of the reasons why I run in the first place, to clear my mind and just exist.

We speak a lot in this ministry of moving forward, walking in grace, choosing to really be alive and present in this life we are blessed with.  And we should.  We should absolutely be actively working towards all of those goals.

But we also need rest.

Our bodies will tell us when we are pushing too hard.  But are we listening?  We do ourselves a disservice to be stuck in a cycle of pity, refusing to do the work for self-improvement; likewise, we also do ourselves a disservice when we neglect resting.

We are in this for the long haul. Our loss will never be left behind.  It takes its toll on every portion of our being.  It affects us spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically.  Consequently, we must remember to tend to our physical needs.  Exercise and fresh air are important.  Strengthening and stretching are vital.  Daily time sitting still in God's presence and listening for His voice are crucial. 

And rest is necessary.

However you find it.  Whatever it looks like for you.  A nap, soaking in a bath, sitting alone in silence...find what works for you and let Him give you REST from the inside out.

Applying Peace

 

“You keep him in perfect peace,

whose mind is stayed on You,

because he trusts in You.”

Isaiah 26:3 ESV

My phone dinged with notice of a private facebook message.  A sweet friend had a question for me.  "How have you effectively applied the peace of God to your life?"   The question stopped me in my tracks and took my mind down memory lane as visions of the past four years began bombarding me.
Here is a portion of my response:

I guess for me, it all comes down to a choice. As a child of God, access to His perfect peace is constantly mine. It is my choice to rest in that peace or not.
It is easier to write the words, than to put them into practice.

 

My choice to sit still in the midst of chaotic suffering

and let His peace wash over me is one of acceptance and surrender.

I've had to accept that God is good. His ways are higher and His plans are better. His promises are of an eternal perspective. These facts do not change. My circumstances do not hold the power to alter the character of who God is. His goodness is not dependent on whether He answers my prayers the way I desire.

I have come to terms with pain and difficulty always being a part of this life. They have a purpose for being allowed to touch us. Nothing touches me that God hasn't first stood upon. He knows. He allows; partially because we live in a fallen world and partially because He wants to draw us closer to His side through the difficult times. It is during hardships that we have the ability to see His character, strength, peace, and majesty magnified.

The losses, the sufferings, the sorrows I have faced in this life leave me with a choice.  I can choose to surrender it all to the One who comforts, consoles, and loves. I can surrender the hurts and exchange them for His peace.

For me, being filled with His peace does not mean everything will work out while on this earth. It means, regardless of what occurs here, I have eternity with Him. That knowledge doesn't necessarily lessen the pain. My heart is literally broken. I've felt the physical breaking of it as well as the emotional. It stinks. I won't lie about that.

But what His peace does is stand beside my faith and fills in the cracks and gaps of my brokenness.
It reminds me that my life is only a vapor.
It assures me that eternity in the presence of God will be grander than my wildest imagination.
It sustains me when I cannot catch my breath.

So the application, in my opinion, comes in the CHOICE to accept and surrender. Through these deliberate actions, I am able to apply His peace to each area of my life.

His peace is where I choose to collapse when my parenting skills are lacking and I feel like a failure doing this solo. His Word tells me He is a father to the fatherless. I trust Him to help me parent these children He blessed us with.

His peace is what comforts me when I am lonely. Doing this life as a single wasn't my plan. I still want Tim by my side. But I trust that God goes ahead of me, walks beside me, and hems me in from behind. His peace gives me confidence to hold my head high and not be ashamed of my singleness nor be desperate for a mate. My worth and value are found in my relationship with Him.
His peace is where I surrender my financial fears. I work hard with the skill set He has given me and I try to be prudent in my spending habits. I trust that seeking His wisdom and the counsel of those He has placed around me will help me thrive with less.

 

The foot of the cross is where I exchange my frustrations for His peace.

It is a daily occurrence.

Lord, I lay it all down at the foot of the cross in exchange for Your peace that passes all understanding.  Give me the strength to leave it there, surrendered to You and not pick it back up again piece by piece.  And when I do start trying to carry the burdens of worry, fear, and frustration again, guide me back to You where You are always willing to take my burden in exchange for the gift of our perfect peace.  Amen.