Don't take this too seriously

I'm restless. By my strictly amateur research this is common among people dealing with grief. And it makes sense as a response to the dislocation the loss of someone greatly loved can bring about in someone. Home isn't really home anymore.

We try, we do try, but it doesn't quite feel like home anymore--hence comes this feeling I describe as restlessness.

So what am I going to do with my restlessness. I could buy a pair of running shoes and make like Forrest Gump (that's him to the right) and run, north, south, east or west, destination anywhere, who cares? I guess I would prefer not to head north because I've winter so maybe I'll head south and run and run and keep running until I hit the ocean.

Or, perhaps,  I could go live among the Taramahura Indians of Mexico. They live in the Chihuahua region of Mexico. If I recall they specifically live in the Copper Canyons.

They are known as the running tribe.  Oversimplifying they run, that's what they do and grow corn.

So I could disappear, get skinny and sunburned.

But they don't eat much more than a particular kind of cornmeal and chia seeds--so meatless and running all the time. So maybe not.

Perhaps I could lose myself working in a small African village, doing who knows what but doing something.

That makes a little more sense to me.

Or maybe, just maybe, I could buy a pith helmet, board a tramp steamer spend four months onboard ship puking constantly and finally make like Sydney Greenstreet and live a scallywag in some tropical port city.

I would of course be a Christian scallywag. And I don't know if there's even such a thing as tramp steamers any more. But that's an alternative.

Did I mention that is not meant to be taken seriously?

It's not going to happen.

I don't think.

But the sense of restlessness is real and it's powerful.

There's also a reason for my over the top, melodramatic venting. It makes me laugh at myself. Really it does. It does a negative feeling and helps me to laugh at it, put it into perspective and in the process I get to feeling better.

And, you know what, I think I hear Faye laughing at me, saying something like "oh Tim, you're being silly.

And I am. But I am restless.

Lamentation

Something that came up in my GriefShare class last week was lamentation.

By lamentation I mean crying out to God in sorrow or grief.

Lamentation is biblical. Crying out to God is acceptable. No, it is more than acceptable, sometimes it is necessary and, in reality, demonstration of trust in the God Who Hears and who is just in all He does and who loves His people.

So I have deeply lamented the loss of my beautiful wife and it's impact on my life. And that is not a demonstration that I lack faith but that I have faith. God is real. And He hears me.

Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Romans 8:26

Jesus wept.

Jesus is better

Again, the kingdom of God is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he found one pearl of great price, went and sold all he had and bought it. Matthew 13; 45, 46

Jesus is that pearl of great price--worth everything I have. He is a treasure of incalculable value.

Can I truly say Jesus is better than anything else in life? Is that a reality for me? Or is it just a thing that I can sing in one song or another.

The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell. It goes beyond the highest star and reaches to the lowest hell. So goes the classic hymn.

I can sing those words and they stir my heart. But do I know them to be true. Can I truly say those words with meaning.

The most precious person in my world was taken away from me 15 months ago. My life was literally ripped apart. But can I say the love of God is greater far...? Can I say that to know and to love Jesus is better?

It's a hard thing to say..but, yes, with grief in every syllable, yes I can say it--Jesus is better.

Here's the thing I honestly, painfully, can say that but only because of God speaking it to my heart, through his written word, through song, through what I know He has done for this world and for me.

Can I tell other grieving people Jesus is better?

That's a hard question to answer but it is an understanding God has birthed in my heart. I fear other people dealing with painful loss might not understand. So I give you my testimony and I leave it at that.

Pressing on.

Day of memories

I had a weird day yesterday. Every single moment of the day reminded me of my Faye. Everything.

I watched the dog play and I thought of Faye and wondered how she would feel about the dog. (She probably would have complained but secretly liked the dog.)

I talked to various people during the day and thought of Faye with each one.

I looked at the chaos of my life and thought of Faye and how much this would upset her.

I looked at myself in the mirror and thought of how important health was to Faye.

I passed by the butcher counter at a grocery store and remembered how Faye would ask the butcher to do something a little out of his way for her. And he would do it.

I miss her. Indeed I do, but I press on.

I suck

At this being single thing. That's what I suck at it.

Even as I heal emotionally--and I am healing--I suck at being single.

Let me explain that picture.

I feel like a man who has had a limb amputated. And relearning to walk that way is incredibly, incredibly difficult.

Faye was more than part of my life, she was part of me. And, now, with only one leg, I feel like I'm perpetually walking in circles. My life is chaotic in o many ways and getting things back in order--especially after a year of brain fog and uncertainty is more difficult than I ever dreamed it would be.

Having said that I will conquer this mountain of mine. I know I will, by God's grace, and the wisdom and gifts he has blessed me with, I will conquer this mountain.

And so I press on.

Checking the wound

I have been facilitating a GriefShare group in my church.

Going in I was concerned it would reawaken that subterranean monster of grief.

I am happy to say the monster has been relatively quiet.

But what has happened is that I've torn the scab off my wound.

I've ripped it off as I re-examine the loss of my Queen.

And, yes, I still have a wound. And, no, healing is not complete.

But here's the good news--I'm clearly healing. The infection is not as deep, nor is it as raw as it once was.

I've come to a place where I believe God can use me to encourage others on their own grief journey.

Even as I continue my walk on this unplanned journey I believe I'm able to extend a hand to others walking along it with me.

God is extending grace to me.

And I press on.

He's Coming Soon (Hebrew & English) Sea of Galilee, Israel Music Video

My Dear Companion (Remastered)

My new companion

Okay I've gone and done it. I've picked up a rescue dog that looks a lot like this one to the right. That's not her but it looks like her.

I wanted to get a dog a year ago but was advised to wait by friends. And, yes, I think that was wise.

Last year was my year of traveling a lot. This year I feel I need to focus on making my home feel like home again and making some money.

And so, I felt it was time.

My dog's name is Paisley and I still have a week or so to decide if I will keep her. There's definitely bonding happening so it seems to be heading that way.

There are challenges for sure. Working out a routine that works for both of us is more challenging than I expected. Being able to do productive work, while giving her the attention she needs is taking a bit of time to figure out but we will.

She is getting me outside more than I have in a long time. She is also getting me walking more than I have in a long time. But both were actually part of my motivation in getting her. So that's good. And she gives me a companion.

As everything seems to do, she makes me think of Faye. Whenever we dog sat the grand dog Faye would fuss about him. She loved him more than she let on but she fussed. "You're in the way. You're in the way."

I honestly can hear her voice "You're in the way, Paisley, You're in the way." And I smile.

And I press on.

My gatherer

Doug Kelly, who spoke in church yesterday, put out a call to become gatherers, to inviters.

I'm sorry but I couldn't help but think that I've lost my gatherer.

Faye was a born gatherer. In fact, if I recall correctly, one of her strengths and Gallup organization strengths test I had her take a few was gatherer. Actually, I think the word was not gatherer but wooer. As I understand it, that's the same thing.

If Faye wanted to have people over for a meal, she called, and then called again, and then called again until our table was full.

She was perpetually gathering people.

If she felt somebody needed to come to church again, she would call and call and call again until that person made it out.

Few people objected because the sweetness of her heart was obvious.

But I have my gatherer by my side any more. So what will I do? Grow? I guess that's possible. In God all things are possible.

Pressing on.