Breadcrumb Trails and Patches of Light

For a long time now, I've been saying that I feel like I was dropped off of a cliff into a dark room. A room with no doors and no windows and no way to get out.

In year one, I was living in the dark room but in many ways denying it. Pretending that I could live the life of the cliff. If I could just somehow get back up there - to that plateau, that steady place where life was hard but at least I could see. I was trying to keep in tact the life that G and I had. Struggling to believe that he was really gone. Making decisions as if he was still here or was going to come back.

Then came year two. The one year anniversary of his death and burial. Christmas. Winter Conference. The harsh, harsh reality that he isn't coming back. That life is unreachable. I am not going to be miraculously taken out of the pit. There is no rescue squad coming. His death was real and permanent and with his death came the death of the life of the cliff.

And so I started running. Frantically. In the dark. This way and that way, stumbling around, hitting off of walls, desperately looking for a crack - an escape. Until I exhausted myself and fell on the ground weeping and weary and ready to give in. Maybe (MAYBE) even to accept.

This is my life.

This is God's plan.

I am a widow.

My husband is gone.

The life we had together is gone.

I cannot cling to it.

I must move forward.

I am not married to him anymore.

I owe him nothing.

I will see him again.

My vows were fulfilled.

I am free to walk into the new life that God has for me. And it will be a new life. With remnants of the old - even things that may seem the same from the outside. But a life that is completely different underneath.

And with that surrender has come patches of light and bread crumbs to follow. Leaning into ministry and enjoying it. Learning to rest and take breaks so I can thrive and not just survive. Being willing to spend money - even on myself. New clothes because like my old life, my old clothes (size and style) just don't seem to fit anymore. Letting go of more of G's things. Spending less time thinking about the past and more time considering the future. Planning new experiences, adventures, and trips. Doing the things that G did and finding that I am capable. Opening up my heart to another man and his children. Admitting to myself that I'm having romantic feelings towards HW and that's okay. Painting my nails. Starting the ride horses again. Sticking with my son's new school. Prioritizing health and exercise. Leaning into grief when it comes.

It's like a patches of light have revealed a door that is beginning to crack open. And some bread crumbs that I can follow - as they appear one at a time- to find that door. The door to my new life. Not the life on the cliff. Nope. That one is gone. And this new life will always be marked by loss. I came to it through the valley of the shadow of death. It isn't the life I planned. It isn't my plan A. It isn't my original dream.

But it can be good too. Maybe always sad in some ways. But good too.