To pause means to briefly stop an action.
Before resuming it again.
On the other side of this extended pause in my grief process is the looming finality of loss that I cannot even utter.
If I don’t utter it then maybe it will just wilt like a dying flower that doesn’t get water. Maybe it will just go away. Wither like scorched leaves.
So, I am standing in the pause knowing that in the next few weeks (maybe days) that I will have to face the other side of this extended pause.
I will have no other choice but to face the darkness that is on the other side of this pause.
I will have no other choice but to accept the inevitable.
I often stand in my garden and just stare at the little statue of Mother Mary and the pink rain lilies that grow near the statue. I often read the garden stone that reminds me to walk by faith.
By faith.
God is supposed to walk beside me.
I wish Jesus would reach down here in this dark tunnel of grief and lift me up into his protecting arms and hold me and wipe my tears away.
I hunger for the peace that only God can give.
My heart is so very broken and I am lost down here in this dark tunnel. . .
I lift up my eyes unto the hills. . .just like the psalmist wrote. . .
My help comes from my Lord, maker of Heaven and Earth.
I am standing in the pause.
And I am gripped by sadness.
I am powerless to change the trajectory of all of this.
I give it over to God to comfort me and lift me out of this dark tunnel.
And to walk with me as I prepare to step into the other side of this pause.
Please pray for me and my family.
Thank you.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2024