Fond memory

This quote could be referring to my Faye.

There are many things I remember about her. Lately I've been thinking about her work ethic.

Faye had an absolutely incredible work ethic--which sometimes drifted into workaholism. This quote is describing her. She never, ever turned up her nose at work.

If there was work to be done, Faye rolled up her sleeves and got right to it--immediately. I say immediately because I honestly can't think of anyone with less tendency toward procrastination than my Faye. She did not put things off--even things she would rather not do.

And in her work she was a servant. She absolutely loved doing things for other people.

In all of that she left an amazing legacy on me, on family and everyone who knew her.

I say that as somebody who doesn't have the same work ethic. I don't.

But as I continue to feel better I am seeking to honour her with my work ethic.

Pressing on.

Getting stronger

Something has changed. Something has definitely changed.

It's not necessarily that I'm totally happy now. But I am generally happy. And it seems the sadness I feel from time-to-time is more along the lines of the sadness everybody feels from time-to-time.

Emotional ups and downs are part of life. I recognize that and the occasional bout of sadness I feel is more along the lines of that kind of sadness than deep grief.

I still think about Faye a lot every day but truly those memories have become sweet memories of a beautiful who touched my life in many, many ways.

I sense new emotional stability or strength. I also sense a restoration of ambition and a slowly developing work other and genuine desire to start living a fruitful and productive life again. I sense hope for the future. I'm almost tempted to say I've climbed that mother of all mountains. I admit, I'll have to see about that. But I have hope.

What's happening. Creeping along, inch-by-inch, has actually moved me forward. The movement was imperceptible but I was moving forward. The ongoing love and support of friends, family and church have helped.

A change in diet has helped, very quickly, to restore mental clarity and focus.

Three hours of ministry with Restoring the Foundations have seen things click into place. And I am very grateful.

Hard times almost assuredly come. But I know I'm stronger. That subterranean monster may still be there but it's smaller.

And I press on.

A real smile

1. Duchenne smile(Noun)
   A smile involving contraction of both the zygomatic major muscle (which raises the corners of the mouth) and the orbicularis oculi (which raises the cheeks and forms crow's feet around the eyes).

A Duchenne smile could also be called a real smile; even people who don't know recognize the term Duchenne smile, a real smile.

My Faye had a real smile. It involved her entire face and it came from the heart. And it lit up her face and the whole room.

I don't think Faye could have faked a smile, or any emotion at all, for that matter, if her life depended on it.

I always called her a woman without guile. Faye was entirely without pretence. And she didn't have a cynical or skeptical bone in her body.

I remember her with love. And I press on.

inch by inch

Something has shifted. I really feel that to be true.

I've had my happy moments since Faye's death. In fact, I've been happier than I am right now. I'm happy enough but I've had happier moments.

It seems, however, as if there's a new foundation under this sense of peace or slightly growing well being.

The happiness, or peace, is accompanied with a small, but growing determination to get my life back.

I also have a new measure focus and ambition to start living and being productive again. Emotional healing is part of that--a huge part. I've also had my eyes open both to the need for a productive, healthy life and to the fog I've been in.

Another part is, I believe, is the effect of improving health habits. I've taken steps to stop eating whatever is in front of me and eat what I know to be healthy. For me that means a ketogenic diet. In the slightly less than a week since I got strict my clarity and focus has improved sharply.

Body, soul and spirit are working together. And I press on.

Establishing foundations

Fourteen months have passed since Faye died.

It has been, without question, the worst 24 months of my life. And I honestly believe that is simply speaking out of reality, as opposed to self pity.

But it seems the Lord is directing me to start embracing life, to make that mountain my mountain and to embrace it as a holy mountain.

Now, he is talking to me about establishing new foundations to my life--or, to put it another way, to rebuild my foundations.

Life is entirely different for me now--entirely. The bedrock foundation of my faith in Christ Jesus has not, of course changed, but everything else is new. And it is time to put foundations in place for my life going forward.

I need structure. And I need fresh vision. I have a sense of what that will look like but I need foundations in place again, simply because the loss of Faye--who was part of my heart--devastated those foundations like an earthquake.

I am looking forward to the next steps in my life.

And I press on.

Healing coming

This weird, convoluted, journey of grief has brought me back to a place of peace and energy and even a measure of happiness. And I am grateful for that. I'm particularly grateful for a restoration of a measure of energy.

But here's the thing with grieving the loss of someone you love. The monster always seems to be lurking just below the surface. Which creates something very much akin to paranoia.  I feel good today but I'm so sure about tomorrow.

So I'm learning, I admit I'm a slow learner, to live in the moment.

I'm happy-ish today. There is no guarantee about tomorrow. I could be happier, or grief could kick me in the groin. I don't know.

Literally all I have is today--this very moment. I'm not responsible for tomorrow. I can't control  tomorrow. I can live as well as possible today--this day--so I will choose to do that.

I also need to remember to live inch by inch, by inch by inch. My life will come back together that way--tiny little incremental step by step.

Thirdly, I need to always keep in mind that I am a physical being, living in a physical world. And that means growing in the physical disciplines to become healthier and stronger. And yes, I am firmly convinced bodily health affects my emotions.

If I'm healthy I will be stronger emotionally.

And I press on.

My mountain top

Mountains and mountain tops have become intensely significant for me emotionally since I lost my beautiful lady.

Preachers often talk about mountain top experiences--meaning it to be a time and place of joy and peace and a sense of the presence of God.

I see it differently. My mountain top experience occurred January 17, 2018. That's the day Faye died.

Take a look at the mountain top--what do you see but rock, ice and snow. You can't actually see it, but it is also an almost airless place of intense cold. That's where I felt I had landed that day--I was in a place of rock, ice, snow, and bitter cold--a place not meant for life. Survival for me was a matter of day by day, inch by inch. I was almost unable to breathe.

But slowly, ever so slowly, my perspective is changing. People who have survived wilderness experiences talk about getting a glimpse of heaven from a seat in hell. The wilderness, even when it seems it might take your life has a certain fierce beauty. In ways I find difficult to fully articulate I can testify to this. I see life differently now. And I can see beauty again.

In my times of prayer and meditation I can sense God telling me to embrace life again, and, even, to embrace this mountain.

It is becoming a mountain of God's holiness.

And I press on.