It's Beautiful

     I reached down and put the blanket over my little girl after she was sound asleep. As the covers fell to only reveal her face I thought "her father will never do this." Grief struck again. As I turned and walked away. Not taking in the softness of her eyelids or the peace on her face of deep restful sleep. I just turned and kept walking. Partly because of the shock of my thought, and also because of the routine of the night. I'm so grateful that the nights are rare that I don't get to do this. And it's met with devastation that my late husband will never know this joy. 

    This month has been a lot. Without going too much into it, our routine has been disrupted to help someone in need while they recover. This has been a blessing to our family in only ways that God can do. Then two days after this moment with my daughter I was brought into a conversation that if I'm lucky I will never forget. 

    I sat there eating lunch with a friend. After catching up it got quiet. I've known him for a few years and my late husband has never come up. "Do you mind if I ask how you and the kids are doing?" I paused to recalibrate, what did he mean? After chatting for some time about our kids and how life moves too fast, the floor opened up and he handed me the mic to speak freely. 

    "I'm ok" and in summary, I meant it. But what poured out of me I will only summarize now because I feel it best for the greater good. I clarified that he was asking this because of the passing of my late husband 4 years ago by suicide. Something we have never spoken about before. He recently found himself watching someone close to him bereaved in the same way. I said "I'm ok but I live in a world where I have to wait to be invited in, and that's tiring. I have so much to say, all the time and yet I have to make sure that the other person is not only ready to receive it but that I won't traumatize them in the process."

    See, while I live my truth and "stand tall" I walk into places with such gratitude, while simultaneously only going as deep as the other person feels ready for. My every day is a world that I exist in that not many others live in, I'm ok with that. That's why when I say "I'm ok" I mean it.

    I can get myself worked up. I can justify tearing down a room or saying something that would stop  people in their tracks. I can do all of that and have everyone say "yeah that makes sense." But I've had to learn to wait until people were ready for me and what I have to say. And that, that has been the hardest part. 

    Two people this week asked me how they could better support someone they personally know going through suicide-loss bereavement. I feel this a place I can share it as well. 

    What was the most impactful for me in the first few weeks was the people who just sat with me and let whatever I was feeling be ok. Having people allow what was, to be what is... that was the greatest gift. Those who allowed me to be. I was asked what advice I could give. I said remind them this: It might have been more than just that day that your relationship was hard. It wasn't just one bad day. It had been hard for me for a long time, days, weeks, months, and yes… years. It was hard. Second, I was set up for failure. I was put in a position that I was not prepared for, qualified, or asked for. The responsibility placed on me was impossible. What was asked of me was too much. There was no other outcome but for me to fail at keeping my husband mentally, physically, and spiritually ok. Not because I didn't love him, but because no one can be another person's savior. I had a skewed idea of what "in sickness and in health" meant and I failed at something that should have never been asked of me.

    But do you know what I've found most controversial? I'm expected to either love or hate my late husband. I've noticed that I've been expected to either love him and move on because he was sick OR be bitter and angry because I was broken down to a soul crushing level. But either/or has set me up to fail as well. Those who have allowed both, who get it... even those who don't but still allow me to be honest with myself and others... that's what I need, those are the ones who I feel safe with. 

    After his passing, I've been hurt. By those who were there for me, who loved me, and who by golly got me through some of the most excruciating days of my entire life. They ended up causing the exact pain they once saved me from. Because guess what? They were set up to fail too. The final thing I said that made me be able to say I was "ok", was it took me maturing. It took so much growing up from something that was inappropriately asked of me. I found my way through by the grace of God. 

    There are a few people out there who I wouldn't mind a letter from. To validate what we went through together and yes this includes my late husband. I'd love to say to all of them "wow I loved you friend, I guess I always will." but yes I'd also like to say "you hurt me and I live everyday in heartbreak still over it." Let me be clear though, Jesus has covered and redeemed my hurt. I live in peace and freedom with my Savior by my side but I am allowed to be upset and love all those that came before me. Those that claimed to understand and yet I feel abandoned me, because I feel maybe they thought that was easier. I am allowed to, and I also can hold myself accountable to say that asking them to be more than human also set them up for failure. 

    So in a devotional that I recently started called "Father's House" I was asked what my home looked like. It is a wonderfully comfortable home and every inch covered in pillows. This represents my need to rely only on myself. The next part of the devotional it says imagine Jesus comes to the door and invites you to leave and walk to Father's house instead. And while I fully surrender to Jesus, in this meditation I couldn't leave the front door of my "stone castle." The home I felt I could protect myself from the outside world. I asked instead for Jesus to come in and he said "No, but I'll wait for you here." 

    As I did this same meditation over and over for a few days I slowly stepped outside and every part of my skin crawled. Yes, Jesus next to me and faithfully stepping out, every part of my body repelled the experience. Slowly I thought of people who have truly come into my space and became safe people for me to be vulnerable with. I was reminded that they were safe because they were led by Jesus. I could name 15 people and I pictured them around me. As I imagined them, those walking with me in this season. I told them it was ok for them to go home. Jesus has me, he's the appropriate person for me to walk with and while I have amazing and God-fearing friends... the real walk is with Jesus. 

    I took a step and froze again. I looked at Jesus and said I'm tired can we sit? So he sat with me and soon we were on the ground looking at the clouds. I started, so scared to step out. To then breathing through and allowing myself to rest out in the open, exposed to others, and yet at rest with Jesus. This meditation asked me to walk to Father's house (Place where God dwells.) I said I'm tired and I'm trying but I'm not ready to let go of this, can we just be here. Jesus smiled and looked at the clouds again. I felt conflicted. God is in my heart I said, I have peace within, I show love and try to see everyone as you see them. 

    Then as I turned my head there were flowers from the door of my house to where we were laying. "You want to make it beautiful first." I nodded, I do. But isn't that a sin? Don't I know the truth of salvation, justice, and forgiveness? I do. Yet I am ok to rest and know it's ok to not be there yet. I realized God was not asking me to pretend the road was not painful. He was helping me to see the beauty along the way. I looked forward at the long walk I had to "Father's House" and Jesus smiled again and said "Remember he's a Gap-filling God." 

    Mark 9:23-24 New King James Version "23 Jesus said to him, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” 24 Immediately the father of the child cried out and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”"

    I looked back at the road I have to travel, How Jesus meets me where I am. How I was told to go to Father's House, and until I can get up and make it there God fills the gap. I am ok because I am not asked to sprint but I am given time to see the beauty. That's how God resides in His House, in my heart, and all along the way.