As usual, there is so much I want to say. So many things that have happened the last six months that I want to talk about. I’m always concerned about continuity in blogging; about missing time. Kind of a recurring theme throughout my life I suppose. I’m always thinking about the future, or dwelling on the past. Far too rarely am I here. In the moment. Which is honestly where I most want to be. So, simply put, the last six months have been the hardest of my life.
I find myself now in a season of loss. A season of found. Of confusion. Of doubt. Of joy. Of sorrow. Of fear, and of bravery. Of love and of emptiness. But most of all, in a season of new.
In the short span of 2 months, I lost both of my grandfathers, a great grandmother, and a great aunt. I also let go of a love that I had held tightly to for five years. I stepped back from many of my responsibilities and am taking time to heal… and finding hope in the process.
Since I’m fairly sure no one reads this blog anyway, I’m just going to put it all out there. If anyone does happen to read and is helped by this, well then I’m glad, and I’d love to hear your experiences in the comments. But something happened to me a few months ago that has drastically shifted my mindset.
In early June 2018, I was camping with my family. I had just finished finals and was very excited about the trip. We were going to be floating the Buffalo river the next day which I had been looking forward to for a long time. I laid down to sleep that night and seemingly out of nowhere, I was struck with panic. Spiraling thoughts about the deaths of everyone I knew and loved, including my own death. I could feel waves of adrenaline sweeping over my body and my heart was racing. I told my family about it and they didn’t know what to think. I honestly didn’t either. Why? I’m not a “stressed out” person. Not a worrier. I don’t have anxiety. But I couldn’t shake it. For weeks I could barely get the thought out of my mind. It was almost consuming me. My immediate reaction was to stay busy. To keep my mind occupied with things I enjoyed. This did seem to help, but it would get worse at night and I couldn’t keep the thoughts from coming. The death of those family members happened from November to January, after all of this initial panic which, as can be imagined, has drawn out the healing progress. I want to clarify that not once have I ever been, or even had a thought of harming myself or others… for me it is just the fear of death. It has been so incredibly challenging for me because I am a fixer. I want to find the problem, handle it, and move on. I do not prefer to dwell on and over analyze things, but this is what I find myself doing. Even now, months later, I am still turning it over in my mind, trying to figure out why it happened and how to stop this fear from coming. It is particularly frustrating because most problems, even most anxiety, has a source. A thing you can point to and overcome. But no one can stop death. It is the great equalizer.
That has not stopped people from trying. People have spent their entire lives running from death.. living with a foot in the grave.. trying to find a loophole – but there is not one. “Oh, but wait!” you say, “You’re a Christian! Don’t you believe in eternal life?” And yes I do. So imagine my surprise when this fear…. this all consuming fear, caused me to question the very foundation on which I’ve built my life! And I still continue to cling to it. I dug in completely to study of the Bible, of other literature, talking to people much more experienced in these things than I. And guess what? I still do not have all the answers and I don’t pretend to.. but what I do know is God is the only thing worth clinging to. He is the only thing that has kept me afloat in this storm, and I will spend the rest of my life chasing him.
When my mother’s father, my D-Daddy, died in November, I was devastated. I got to the hospital just a few short minutes after he had passed. I walked into the room and my family were all quiet, standing around him in a small, weeping huddle. I said, “Is he gone?” as I looked at my Nonnie, his wife of 62 years… she had tears in her eyes and she nodded. My mother embraced me and I just broke down… He was gone. His body was there, but he was not. As I looked at him… I realized what a horrible mockery of life death is. What a sick and twisted thing sin is. What it has done to humanity. And how Jesus really is all. Because he defeated death. D-Daddy is not in the grave. He is with his Lord and Savior.
Tears come to my eyes as I write this. The grief is still very near for me. I did not have to see Papaw, my Grandmama, or my Auntie Jo in this state, and although I deeply grieve them all, seeing D-Daddy like that has stuck with me. I don’t know if it is good or bad, but it is another step in my story.
All of these experiences have caused me to question and think on so many things, as I’m sure death does for all. I am glad that they have brought me closer to my faith. Will I ever be where I hope to be? Will I see my dreams realized? Will I have a husband and children? Will I become the doctor I wish to be? Will I ever be free of this anxiety which seems to have become my constant companion? I hope so. I am choosing to believe so.
Now more than ever I am drawn to my knees in prayer… and find my heart burdened for the hurt and broken people of the world.
A Gaelic Farewell:
May the road rise to meet you;
May the wind be always at your back;
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
May the rains fall softly upon your fields.
Until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
Hopeless Wanderer 