Tag Archives: heart

P.S. I love you x

Dear Me,

Today your world changed. Today you lost your love, your future and your hope. I know exactly how you feel, I am you, just a few years down the track.

You are wondering if the pain will kill you … it won’t. It is the greatest ache you have ever felt, but it doesn’t actually kill you. Instead it hangs heavy inside your heart, reminding you minute-by-minute that part of you is missing. “Till death do us part” swirls around your mind’s eye… but you didn’t actually think it would happen. Not yet, not to you.

I know you are about to enter a bipolar-like state vacillating between deep pangs of grief and hyper activity to try and prove to your kids that it will be OK. It will all be futile. You will get very, very weak, you won’t like yourself for it. Here’s where I can help.

It really is going to be OK.

Not today, and probably not tomorrow either. But one day not too far away you will feel the sun on your skin, it will remind you of what happiness once felt like. Hold onto that, remember it, you are not going insane, you are just sad.

When you let the endless questioning give way you will find peace again. It’s hiding behind the anger that you won’t let go of. It’s blocked behind the blame game that has no end. You can’t create the peace you need, but it’s freely given when in surrender you pray for it.

When you are convinced God failed you, when your thoughts get carried away and think He is cruel beyond belief, remember it isn’t true. Remember you just can’t see it and you may never know why. When the plan shifts so far away from what you expected remember, it will be ok. One greater than you holds the original draft, His heart is for you not against you. He was and He is and He always has been the One who loves you. He is answering the cries of your heart you cannot put into prayers. He knows.

Take comfort in the fact that he isn’t suffering anymore. That in Heaven he is free from pain, from cancer and will one day meet you again. You can’t fathom that just yet, but lock it away in your heart as a truth, trust me, I know you. It will help.

One last thought … it was not your fault. There was nothing you could do to save him. I know that’s hard for you, but you overthink things, it just wasn’t within your control. You need to let that go. Don’t punish yourself by denying yourself life, love and freedom. It will not bring him back. In fact, the life you live can bring him honour if you choose it. That’s how you keep him alive in your heart, that’s how you can go on.

It really is going to be OK. Believe me I know.

P.S. I love you x

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“I am absolutely sure that not even death or life can separate us from God’s love. Not even angels or demons, the present or the future, or any powers can separate us. Not even the highest places or the lowest, or anything else in all creation can separate us. Nothing at all can ever separate us from God’s love. That’s because of what Christ Jesus our Lord has done.” Romans 8:38-39 (NIRV)


Still Believing

I am speaking to my own heart today, I am telling it to listen carefully, don’t shut down heart, don’t tune out this time. I’m yet not sure it’s listening, but I’m giving it a go. It wants to shy away, to sit in the back, to not be noticed as it wonders why. Why?

Why?

A long time after grief began, I found a smile on my face and I felt a sigh. It was a deep, relief filled sigh that I had indeed found hope again. Stress and anxiety lifted slowly, gratefulness for this hope grew and a respect for life heightened.

But I forgot a very important fact… Life still goes on and it’s not all happy. It’s not always as it should be, grief returns, people get sick, and hard, hard days are still part of life. It’s as if there’s some arthritis from the wound, it’s healed, I can walk, but it left some decay behind. So when conditions aren’t right, I feel it again. Agony. Cancer shouldn’t be able to touch my loved ones again, but it does. The agony of losing should be a thing of the past, but it’s not. My heart should not have to feel this again, but that’s just not realistic. Life, the good and the bad still march on whether I am prepared for it or not.

But why? 

Is God still good?

Is He a carer of my soul?

Is He really all powerful?

Can I trust Him?

Does He really want the best for me?

Is He even listening?  

I’ve learnt to answer “Yes” and yes there is sickness and death and horrid things that should never happen. Yes it doesn’t seem fair (don’t even get me started on that one!). But I still believe it through pain and when it’s hard. Why?

Why?

It’s nothing to do with a survey, it’s not a feeling, but a discipline of belief I can be sure of. Doubt surfaces for sure, and many questions race around my brain but at the end of the day I know there’s a whisper inside that knows hope will still come around the corner. There is a “however” on the end of the sentence that invites my heart to know there is something more.

There is more to death than grief, there is an eternity spent pain free in a better place. There is another side to hard times as we pull together and unite around common concern. There is another side to loss if I choose it. I can choose to add new people, new family, new love…if I choose. It’s not what I imagined in the beginning but it’s still good if I choose it.

I know by now that there are many, many questions in life that cannot be answered, won’t be answered, I don’t like that. That those “why’s” are not answered how I would like them to be and some days are just plain hard. If I make my heart listen it might bleed. If I summon it out of the fog it will need to go through reality before it can see hope. I cannot hear the whisper if I ignore the reason for hearing it. I cannot feel the relief until I know the pain.

When I walk with a limp I protect my wound, my broken limb, my pain from the blows of the world. When my heart hurts I protect it too. I put on my brave face, I distract conversation away from the pain and I keep in the shallows away from the deep stirrings that probe too much. I still don’t like the pain. I’m still a person. So I’m trying “however” on the end of lifes’ sentences. However, the treatment might be good. However, we are loved. However, there is yet hope. I’m hoping God is there in the however, planted firmly in between the pain and the hope that lies beyond. I’m not looking for new answers to all the hard questions, I’m choosing to keep believing what I began believing before grief began.

I’m praying my and my loved ones hearts understand. Understand we are loved, understand we know it hurts and understand we are all in this together. I’m praying we hear the whispers of hope over the noise of the why’s.

I’m praying. 

Hope.

MI Rainbow blessings getty


Waiting

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Waiting waiting, waiting. I am impatient and stubborn by nature, waiting is murder for me. But at least when I’m waiting in anticipation for a something, an end in sight, there is hope. In this new chapter as a widow, (I still find that word hard to swallow), I don’t know what to wait for. What’s supposed to happen now? I have never been one to go along aimlessly, and it seems absurd to do that now, especially now. Yet try as I might, I cannot conjure a purpose up on my own.

I’m ruined you see. Ruined to ever just live in order to buy a new TV or whatever computer gadget comes out next. When I was 16 I made a choice; a choice to no longer live another moment just for myself. But to live the life I had for a higher purpose, a life and heart surrendered. A plan that was not my own. I believed God created me and knew what was best for me.

But I have a confession.

My higher purpose was interrupted when my love died. Like the internet went down and the download had to start again. How annoying is that! My trust in God slipped and caused a break in the connection, it’s repairable, but it will cost me.  Not in money, but in the vulnerability of my heart. To let the walls of self-protection down and allow the same God that took my love away to lead me again is a bigger ask now than ever before.  To trust someone, anyone, with the control of my life after such a catastrophic disappointment seems like asking for heartache. But I’m believing it won’t be. I’m believing, deep breath now, that life can not only be happy again, but full and purposeful.

So I’m waiting.

Waiting for the connection to be strong enough once again to handle the gigabytes of life yet to come my way. New things, old things renewed, who knows. But I want them, I really do. So every day I will choose to open my heart to God, the Creator of the universe, and trust Him with all that I am, and all that I am yet to be.

Let’s see what happens. Let’s see what life after death looks like.

Waiting.


Love with a Wounded Heart

I still remember the feel of your kiss. Your lips, your prickles, your nose in the way. I remember the warmth of my lips in the crook of your neck. ..I miss the warmth of my lips in the crook of your neck. I see it and I can almost breathe you in still. I remember it now, but will I always? I don’t know.

Don’t slip away from me, stay.

I know what I ask is impossible; I just want it to be possible. I know I need to feel love again. I am so sore from the aching, so full of callouses from the scar tissue that used to be my heart. This should only be a post-operative complication, but I fear, oh I fear, its more and without treatment it could be fatal. I only know one course of treatment for that my Paul, you knew it too. Complete cardiac intervention by the Best of the best. By the Creator Himself. He knows its workings intimately. The treatment is love. I cannot see any other way.

To love with a wounded heart, push the boundaries, and rehabilitate the possibilities for life.


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