Thursday, February 28, 2019

A particular grief

C.S. Lewis wrote A Grief Observed in the wake of the death of his wife Joy.

It was not incidental that Lewis called his book A Grief Observed, rather than just calling it Grief Observed.

He called it A Grief Observed because in it he was observing a particular and specific grief--his grief.

Grief, I feel, is always specific and particular, it is never universal. No, I'm sorry, that's not right. Grief certainly is universal but the experience is not universal/

This blog is specific and particular. It is about my particular grief in the wake of the death of the woman more for than any person in the world--my Faye.

Grief is specific and particular. That is not to say there are not lessons to be learned about grief. And that is not to say there are no ways to help walk people through their. And yes, there are people who learned about grief, about how it affects lives. And they can take grieving people by the hand and walk with them through their valley.

But, again, grief is specific and particular. As I share my particular grief over the loss of that particular person I pray it will be illuminating to others. And I pray it will touch hearts and minds and maybe, just maybe, bring encouragement. I feel I have been graced with a particular ability to dig into my heart and express my grief.

It is, however, A grief observed.

God bless and keep you.

Pressing on.

Precious Memories - Patty Loveless

Flooded with memories

I've been flooded with memories lately--memories of the beautiful lady that was part of the very fabric of my very being for 24 years. Memories of her many strengths and of her few weaknesses. And flashbacks to our last few days together.

These memories are washing over me after a month or so of genuine happiness. The sting of those memories has faded. They no longer debilitate me as they once but they still make me ache.

Please don't tell me it's time to move on. I am moving on but this grief thing is an unruly beast. Truly it is. And it cannot be directed. It is untamed. That is simply truth and reality.



So it is taking me for a ride again, an unexpected ride but not truly because I've learned to take each day by itself--focussing my mind on God and His hope but not being surprised by surprises.

As I've been in that place of memory I was reminded of something I wrote lying sleepless in bed on the early morning of Jan. 28--my first day alone.

My Queen, my precious, beautiful Queen Faye,
Please take a moment to rest in the presence of Jesus,
Let all Heaven ring with your amazing laugh,
Bless them with your beautiful smile,
And wait for me,
But maybe, just maybe,
There's no waiting in Heaven where time is no more,
Or maybe, since 10,000 years is but a single day maybe you'll be waiting but a few minutes,
Now my head hurts.
On your side you drink deeply and fully of joy; on this side I can do no more than sip,
On your side you possess; on this side I can only long and ache and wait,
On your side you know Reality and Truth; on this side I have but a shadow and a glimpse,
I will see you soon my love.

Pressing on





Monday, February 25, 2019

New challenges

In A Grief Observed C.S. Lewis says something to the effect of he was either grieving all day, or thinking about grieving all day.

I can absolutely relate to that sentiment. The deepest pangs of grief have largely--not entirely but largely--passed but now even if I'm not grieving all day, I find myself thinking about grieving all day. Well really not all day. I am doing better than that but certainly much of the day.

Even getting through the deepest part of grief presents an odd kind of challenge related to the process of rebuilding my life.

I'm now in a process of restoring order my life--in my house--in how I eat--in how I structure my day--and in becoming productive again. That refers to business but there is more to being productive than working on my business. It also refers largely to using my time well again. And that means disciplined. And that means stepping into activities I don't necessarily want to do but choose to do.

Each step I take to make myself more productive and active and healthy reminds me of grief and of the fact that I'm life building alone. And so it awakens that emptiness.

But I do press on--and each day, inch by inch, it gets better.

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Conquering this mountain

Mountains and conquering the mountain in my life has been on mind literally from the time Faye died.

So I have a dream, or you could call it a bucket list item. In order to declare ultimate victory over the mountain in my life I plan to take an Everest trek, probably sometime next year. It might come later but I can't put it off indefinitely.

To be clear, this is not about climbing Everest. I wouldn't ask some poor Sherpa to risk his life trying to haul my soft white backside up Everest. It's a hike, typically flying into Kathmandu and then into the Tibetan village of Lukla.  From there it's a trek to Everest base camp.

The elevation goes from some 2,860 metres (9,383 feet) to about 4,800 metres (16,900).

I'm declaring this publicly. I will, by God's grace, conquer my mountain.

Before the Throne of God Above - Selah [with lyrics]

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Overthinking as usual

I'm nothing if I'm not guilty of overthinking. I should be in overthinkers anonymous, if there is such a thing.

I had a dream last night, just before waking up.

I was on an old boat, some kind of beat up old fishing boat. This boat was being lowered into the water by a gigantic crane. I could look down and see the water, which was dark brown.

The worrisome thing was the crane was lowering the boat far too quickly, almost just dropping it. The boat hit the water and instantly went under. The water was swirling around the boat. I was under.

And then, almost as quickly, the boat popped back to the surface, like a cork. That was it.

Weird dream, right? But it stuck with me. I mean it really stuck with me.

It seems to picture my life. I was safe and dry and contented in my old. And then, just like that, I was under water--brown filthy water.

But I have been restored to the surface. Reality and hope and security. All together. The reality of pain, and grief, and then hope of restoration.

Is this just something bubbling up from my subconscious or was God speaking to me? I have my thoughts. Come to your own conclusions.

Monday, February 18, 2019

On that old mountain top

I feel like I'm out of sync with the world around me.

When everybody else is going ba-da-bum-ba-da-bum-ba-ba,  I'm going da-bum-ba-bum-da-ba.

When everybody is craving sugar and chocolate. I'm craving fat and salt.

When everybody is listening to Christian pop, I'm listening to the blues.

I trust you get the point. The Bible speaks of being in the world, but not of the world. It's kind of like that, but not like that at all. It's just that my perspective on life has change. The way I respond to things has changed. The dance of grace is different for me now.

Case in point:

The preacher yesterday made reference to mountain top experiences. I get the reference, I really do. It's about peak experiences in the Holy Spirit, likely referring to the transfiguration of Jesus.

I understand the reference but...I. Just. Don't. See. The. Mountaintop. Like. That. Not at all. I'm out of sync with a standard reference.

I feel I've spent most of the last 13 months on a mountain top.

But it hasn't been the mountain top of yesterday's sermon. It has been a different mountain top. It's been the mountain top above--or the one to the left.

I'm talking about a mountain with nothing but ice and rock--nothing eat, no air to breathe.

It's a place where've I've spent a lot of time since losing Faye.

It's a place where I would surely slip and fall but for the tender grace of the Living God sustaining me. It's a place where the reality of my faith in God has been tested. It's a place where I have found Him more real than I have ever found Him before. At the worst time in my life I've experienced His goodness.

I've been tested. Yes I've been tested. It's not anything like that mountain top of sermons.

But people who survived mountain top accidents have often spoken of getting a glimpse of heaven from a seat in hell. I can attest to the truth of that.

God is good. And inch by inch, day by day I will make this mountain mine.

Soli Deo Gloria.

I realize this is very similar to my previous post but, oh well.

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

Making this mountain mine

The name of this blog is Making this Mountain Mine. The image of the mountain as the place of suffering and victory has been with me from the day Faye died. (In fact before that, but that's another story.)

When I lost her I felt like I had been abandoned in the death zone of a mountain. The death zone is a place of rock, ice and not enough oxygen to breathe. The sides of Mt Everest are littered with the corpses of people who couldn't make it off the mountain.

At the same time God gave me confidence that inch by inch, day by day, this mountain would be mine. And that He would get the glory from it. That confidence has given me the strength and vision to keep pressing on through the worst, most painful year of my life.

Of late the clouds of cleared and I can see the summit. It is within reach. New life is within reach. And I am so very, very thankful.

It reminds me of something I've read about people who have survived accidents in the wilderness or on mountains. They commonly speak of getting a glimpse of Heaven from a seat in Hell. In otherwise, even in the struggle and the pain of moving inch by inch toward survival they have the grace to see beauty.

I have often seen beauty over the last year. The beauty of memories. The beauty in the love of God, even in my bad times. The beauty of good people sent to me to walk alongside.

I can see a new beauty that thrills me to the bone. Who knows what tomorrow brings. I can't predict anything but I know God is good. And I see beauty. And I press on.

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Sweet smile; stubborn heart

I've been listening to a blues song lately called Goodbye Sister Heroin.

It's not about love, or loss but about the singer's victory over heroin addiction.

The song makes me think about Faye. No, no, no, I assure no heroin addiction with Faye. But it has a line that makes me think about Faye every single time I hear it.

It goes something to the effect of remembering "your sweet smile and stubborn heart." I assume it refers to the seduction of heroin and its stubborn refusal to let go of its victims.

Nothing about heroin reminds me of Faye but that line "your sweet smile and stubborn heart" could be about Faye.

Her smile was the sweetest in the world, but it was accompanied by a stubborn heart. Mostly stubborn with conviction and determination to do what she felt she needed, or wanted to do. But honestly, I don't believe I won a single argument with her in 24 years. And when she was pursuing something that lady with the sweet heart was like a dog on a bone.

I say this things with a smile of affection on my face. :)

And I press on.

Monday, February 11, 2019

Riding the monster

I continue to enjoy a period of happiness. I am happy, yes I am.

Can I say that I am perfectly happy--probably not. But I am enjoying the sweet taste of happiness in my life, even in the cycle of normal, day to day, ups and downs.

But, the reality is that the monster of grief is almost certainly lurking just below the surface of my life.

That is not being negative but simply being aware and realistic. I understand there is no timeline for grief. God has brought a lot of healing into my life, in a variety of ways, and I am deeply, deeply grateful.

I have every expectation, however, that the monster is still there. But I've learned a few things in the 390 days.

I know I can depend on the grace of God, even in the worst days of my life. And I know He will lift me up.

I've come to learn a lot about handling grief. And I am confident I can ride the monster. It will come but I know I can ride it.

Pressing on.

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Happiness Part II

I continue to be generally happy. Not necessarily deliriously happy. Well, actually, delirious doesn't occur that much for me.

But, yes, I'm happy these days. I still have days that are better than others. Something has shifted and I am deeply grateful for that.

Happy is better than sad. Happy is better than meh. Happy is better than okay.

Happy brings with it more energy, more ambition, better focus and the will to be productive.

So what next--I need to embrace happiness as it comes. I need to pursue new life and new friendships. I need to start driving into work and productivity. I need to live with more discipline. I need to guard my health--because I firmly believe body and spirit are connected. I need to guard who I hang out with. I need to cultivate praise and thanksgiving and seek out optimistic and positive people.

Grief tremors will come again. I am not remotely deceived about that. But for now I am running with happy. Those kind of tremors off to the right.

Even as I enjoy happiness. And I do. Even as I look with faith to the future. And I do. I realize there are things lurking beneath the surface.

They are there. That's reality. They could jump up to shake me up again. But those tremors get weaker. And I, by God's wonderful grace and am getting strong.

I will press on.

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Fading memories

I've recently realized some memories of Faye are starting to fail.

I still see her sweet smile and face very clear. Of course I'm helped by a lot of photographs.

But I'm starting to lose my memories of what her voice sounded like. In fact, I can't remember it clearly at all. The memory of her amazing laugh is still a little clearer but also fading slightly.

Time passes on and there is no avoiding it.

Monday, February 4, 2019

Tasha Cobbs Leonard - Gracefully Broken

Graciously broken

Recently a friend, thank you Evelyn, sent me a link to the song Graciously Broken.

The song captures my life. I have been graciously broken. My life was forever changed Jan. 17 of last year. The loss of Faye broke.

But I am healing. I know I am healing. And by God's grace those broken places will be strong.

Depending eternally on the love and grace of God.

Friday, February 1, 2019

Joe Bonamassa - 'Mountain Climbing' - OFFICIAL Music Video I get this.

Still enjoying happiness

I'm continuing to enjoy a week of happiness. It feels good and I am very thankful for it.

Back of that happiness I am still missing Faye. I miss her laugh, I miss her smile, I miss her energy and her bustle. I miss traveling with her. I miss playing board games with her.

And I miss looking into her eyes and telling her that she was awesome, whatever the liar might be telling her.

But these memories are sweet and happy memories now and are losing the power to hurt me.

Having said all that who knows what tomorrow will bring. But I embrace the moment and I press on.