Purpose

As my second year without Faye draws to a close, on Jan. 17, to be precise it troubles me to acknowledge I'm still in significant measure lost. Yes I am. My life is still in a bit of shamble.

Hope and faith remain steadfast, yet I still feel like I'm driving in the fog. When I talk with other grievers I find many of us are still in the same place.

My emotions are fairly stable. I have happy days. In fact I have genuinely happy days. And more reasonably happy days than the opposite. If you would ask me how I'm doing I would more than likely tell you that I'm fine, or good, or perhaps I'd say I'm okay. And I would be telling the truth.

But yet I'm having trouble getting life in order and living with purpose.
My house is a mess and I feel like I'm still drifting through life.

With that in mind my one word for 2020 is purpose.

To explain I like to end every year, or begin every new year, with a single theme word. The word this is year is purpose. I intend to live this year with purpose. Beginning, of course with finding purpose.

Of course my intention is to live fully for the glory of God as the tattoo says "Soli Deo Gloria." But what that is supposed to look like for me, in particular, this particular year, has yet to be fully determined. But I will live with purpose. That might mean leaving some things behind while I pursue new purposes. Could be. Might be. But it does mean embracing life again.

And it does mean forgetting what lies behind and pressing on to my high calling. And yes I am firmly convinced good things lie before me. I will, I must, go where the life is and where the joy.

That sounds kind of vague and mystical perhaps. But it's time to live with purpose again. I must be determined in that.

As I've been praying and meditating of late I've been sensing a call to embrace new wineskins. Sounds a little frightening but I will do so. I need to live again.

Pressing on.

Joe Bonamassa - "O Holy Night" - Christmas Music Video

When My Heart Is Torn Asunder By: Phil Wickham

It's been a while

I haven't posted for a long time--50 percent because I'm feeling better, 50 percent because I've lost my discipline.
I would say I'm doing well emotionally, but my world is still upside down.
And so I press on.

Donna Taggart - Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain

Hiraeth

I haven't blogged a lot of late. Partially it's a matter of other priorities and partly because it seems the first part of my grief journey has come to an end. The sharp pain of sorrow doesn't trouble me so much anymore. And I am thankful for that.

But the journey continues.

I stumbled across the word hiraeth yesterday. Hiraeth is a Welsh word.  The definition is a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost place of your past.

All that seems to sum up my present state. I can honestly say I'm doing well but underneath there is an almost unidentifiable yearning, or longing for the home I've lost. I still have my house, but the home that I had with Faye is lost.

And I yearn, to a new degree, for that eternal home where I will meet Faye.

And I press on.

A regret

I try my best to avoid regrets. I loved Faye and she loved me. Our marriage was happy. And yet, there were imperfections as there almost always are.

We were too busy. We really were. I was busy. Faye was beyond busy. I always teased her that she would somebody be the busiest person at the care home, which never happened of course.

We often go several days without even having a meal together. And longer without more extended time together. It would have been fair to say we often were like ships passing in the night.

So we had a weekly game night. And we drove places together--including church--whenever we could. Of course she would concentrate on knitting. :)

Holidays were precious times. And were times with family when Faye concentrated on being a mother and grandmother.

None of that can be changed of course. And life was what it was. And Faye had to channel her immense energy.

So I press on.