Turning a Corner | My Personal Rise Up Update

I hesitate to use the phrase "turning a corner" or "seeing a breakthrough" or anything cliche like that. There are good days, there are bad days, there are REALLY bad days. I mean it's only been 4.5 months. But this start of the new year has felt like a page turned inside of me. Suddenly I desire to cook meals again, and be at home again. For the better part of 4 months I've avoided being at home unless it was necessary. But I've been content to curl up with a cozy blanket and read a book. I've been taking joy in chopping up vegetables and prepping some dinners. I hope that this is leading to more days ahead of the same. Quiet contentment.

I'm also not naive to think this is permanent. The tides ebb and flow, and a violent riptide could hit tomorrow. I'm sharing less of those riptides publicly because my heart needs a safe haven in my community when they come. I'm also in counseling now, and I hope that it helps me get ahead of whatever violent storms start to form.

This journey, so far, has been nothing like I imagined it would be. Maybe I read too many of worst of the worst stories early on. Those stories haven't been my case at all. Of course every journey of grief is different, but there has just been this expectant hope that has walked fully intertwined with the pain. There's no way to explain or describe how it's possible for the two to be equally prevalent in my heart. 

I do wonder, though, when I'm going to genuinely say "I'm doing good" when people ask how I'm doing. Number one, I hate that question because there are million different things firing in my brain when it's asked. But my only answer is "I'm doing okay." Which feels so fake, so safe. But its the true and honest only thing I know to answer. I'm not doing terrible, I'm not doing great, so okay is actually...okay.

I wrote in my notes from church this past week "season of devotion." I know a lot of people do a word for the year, either at the new year or on their birthday, and I've tried in the past. I've usually forgotten that word a few months later, clearly not giving it much importance. But this word devotion has caught my attention. After I wrote it I breathed out this deep, peaceful sigh. Am I going to willingly embrace this new season I've been thrust into? Sure, I'd rather still be married, but option A is gone and now what am I going to do with option B? I've been given this sweet, unique, precious gift to spend another season in pure devotion to the communion of the Holy Spirit, and seeking Jesus. I have no pressing need to seek business or financial growth. I don't have to ask a husband what he desires to do, what plans he might have, or if it's okay to do this and that.

This is hope and pain intertwined.