It's time to rise.

 

If you will please join me on a little trip. Close your eyes…oh, I see the complication in that. Well, barring that you have someone to read this to you, sit and take a deep breath, but keep your eyes open so you can read along.

Think of a struggle or a hardship that has bogged you down. Something that has made forward progress or movement difficult and seemingly impossible. It doesn’t have to be grief or loss. It can be a struggle with your health, or with your family. A struggle with money or with well-being. A struggle with direction or perception. Now, how did you get out of it? How do you get out of it?

As I stated last week, I started this blog with the intention of helping to process my grief. And I hoped that perhaps some of you would be able to find healing in it as well. I have learned a lot and I have reflected a whole heap. Many have shared their thoughts and stories and I am so grateful for you taking the time to ride with me. I have reached a point where I think I need to move on and evolve. But before I go, a few thoughts…

This week started the beginning of Lent, which is the Christian reflection of the 40 days Jesus spent fasting and alone in the desert. It is a season of prayer, gratitude and sacrifice that ends on Easter Sunday, when we rejoice and celebrate Jesus rising from the dead and ascending into Heaven. As I have prepared for this Lenten season, I have reflected greatly on my life as a Christian and my faith.  I have prayed for my heart to heal to make more room for my faith and for my life after losing my mom.

In reflecting on my faith, I have learned that it is possible to miss my mom and have faith at the same time. Missing my mom does not mean that I don’t have faith that she is in Heaven; nor does it mean I wish she was still suffering just so I can have her with me. I am confident that the two are not mutually exclusive. When I started this journey, I struggled with feeling like my faith was inadequate because my heart was so broken. But I have come to believe that the sole feeling of missing my mom does not mean I have any less faith than I did before. I am going through a process, and I have had to give myself grace while doing so. I wish the same for you.

My husband and I have both found ourselves in the confusing position of being unable to throw things away that remind us of my mom. A few years ago, my mom got Evan Cool Water cologne for Christmas. Between you and me, he was not entirely in favor of the scent, but he wore it most days because she got it for him, and he appreciated that. A couple of weeks ago he finally ran out of the cologne, but he has not been able to throw the bottle in the trash. There is some pull that makes it so he can't toss the bottle in the bin. He isn't going to go buy another bottle, but he also can't seem to part with this one. My mom always had the best of intentions with her gifts, even if they fell well short of the goal post. Her good intentions always made them endearing. Similarly, my mom had hand soap in the kitchenette of her last residence. After she passed, we put it in our kitchen. I never liked to use it because it made me sad thinking about “what could have been”. But I am cheap and as my Grams said, “waste not, want not”. As the end of the bottle approached, I found myself anxiously watching the liquid level get lower and lower until the day came when the soap ran out. It took me a few days to be able to throw away the bottle. I am not sure why I kept it; I am not sure why my husband keeps his cologne bottle. Something in our guts has led us to do what we had to do.

Gut feelings and instincts are huge in grief. If I don't feel right about something or I don't feel ready, I just wait. There was no tangible reason not to throw away the cologne or soap container. There was just a feeling. The feelings that accompany emotional ties during grief are just that - feelings. But, nonetheless, they are real, and they matter. Grief is enduring and will be there way longer than you want it to stay. So, take your time with it and sit as long as you need. Eventually you will rise like the Phoenix.

Some people visualize the Phoenix when they conceptualize healing and moving forward.  The Phoenix is a Greek mythological bird that rises from the ashes following hardship as a symbol of hope and rebirth. It is a representation of coming out of strife to be born anew.

My mom used to tell me that it was okay to be upset about something but that we had to eventually gather ourselves back together and keep moving. I was once going through a very hard time and my mom found me in my room quietly crying on the floor. She gently placed a box of tissues next to me and said “You will get up again and you will be fine. I am not sure when, only you know when you are ready, but you will get up and I will be here”. And she was right.

Conversely, years later, I found myself in the position of comforting my mom after a devastating loss in her life.  In 2013, my mom lost her dear friend and soul sister of 40 years. I prayed for the words to help my mom heal. She always thought I was the one with the right words, but I always knew that was her department. My cousins would all agree. However, I am good at analogies! And I thought of this one for her. I told my mom, and I will share with you. Imagine your life as represented by a house full of furniture, nick knacks, mirrors, dishes, window treatments. These objects represent every facet of our life. They are your relationships, your thoughts, your habits, your successes, your failures. When a loved one dies, it is as if someone comes and viciously shakes your house. The furniture flies, windows break, glass shatters, fabrics become torn, and nothing remains in its place. Healing from loss is accepting that the items in your house are still there, but they are now worn, tattered, broken and tired. Healing is putting your house back together and learning to live with the new condition of its contents.

In my effort to heal, to accept my tattered house, to get off the floor, to rise from the ashes, to make more room in my heart for my faith and my life, I am ready to move on from this journey. I have gained a lot from this process, although it has been miles out of my comfort zone. But just because something is hard, it doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do. Going back to the beginning of this post, when you think about your hardship, I pray for you to have and use the resources you need to rise from the ashes, and I thank you for sharing your journey with me. I plan to be back in some way, and I hope you will join me then. I am praying on and thinking about where to go next with my writing. In the meantime, please accept my heartfelt gratitude for riding with me and for helping me to process my grief. My mom would have made all of you chocolate chip cookies and given you one of her amazing “Aunt Ginger” hugs! God bless you, be well, ride the wave and don't forget, no one fights alone. 

PS-it appears the comment function is not properly working. Thank you for trying to leave a comment-I wish we could get more of a discussion started. Maybe on my next blog!