My head felt like a boulder. So heavy I couldn’t lift it off my pillow. My brain was foggy and my eyes were puffy. But my alarm clock told me I had to get up anyway. I’d have to make do.
I managed to peel my head up off the pillow, pushing back the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and my feet hit the cold floor; reminding me of the cold hollow empty feeling that was following me around like a shadow.
Grief cornered me and took me by surprise. On the surface, things looked just fine, but I couldn’t shake the grief that was chasing me down from within.
These are all words that engulf grief, whether or not, we want to admit it. Whenever there is a significant life change, grief follows us around like a shadow, lingering in the background.
Living in the middle of transition we reach for an invisible remote, our fingers hover over the fast forward and rewind buttons because we long for normalcy, stability, and comfort.
We long for things to stay the same.
We long for what was.
And we long for what will be.
And yet, most of life is lived in the struggle of change.
In the struggle of transition.
In the struggle of adjusting.
In the struggle of grief.
Motherhood teaches me this lesson over and over again. Change is a constant in motherhood. Right?
A newborn sleeps all day, then she transitions into regular naps. She goes from breastfeeding
But they don’t stop there.
They never stop changing. Ever.
The “firsts” will keep on coming through the teenage years and into adulthood. My children will keep growing, transitioning, and adjusting to new normals. Change is a common denominator in life.
So why is change such a struggle every.single.time? Maybe you can relate.
My kids started at a new school this year and it’s been so much easier and so much harder than I ever thought it would be. On the days I struggle, I want to make it about the differences in schooling, in methods, in
It’s about life stages changing.
It’s about relationships changing.
It’s about my children changing.
It’s about a never-changing God who is always changing me.
We don’t want to take the time to step back and look at the changes God is doing in us because it feels too scary, too close, and too personal. It’s so much safer to focus on the outward changes, on the things we can see, control, and make a judgment call on.
We don’t want to go there.
I get it.
Because the tears fall in silence when we get quiet and look within, but God somehow gives us strength when we are weak.
Fear wants to hold us back from the best things in life. Fear tempts us to stay and play on shame’s playground because it feels safer somehow and we can defend-our-own but peace will never be found there.
Peace is always found from within.
Peace is what our unsettled souls long for in the middle of the struggle of change.
When we take the time to come inside and sit at the table with our souls, we will see more of who God is and who we are becoming.
Jesus takes away our shame and sets us free. We are free from the outward pressures that tell us to point fingers, to judge, and to blame. We are released from the need to shame others and the need to shame ourselves.
Grace allows us to embrace compassion. Compassion for others. And compassion for ourselves.
What change are you struggling with?
Are you walking through a difficult health diagnosis?
Did a loved one pass away?
Did you make a major move?
Are you going back to school?
Did you start a new job?
Did you add another child to your family?
Did you send a child off to college?
Are relationships changing?
When we look inward, to the places where our heart aches the most and we invite Jesus to meet us there – right where we are – the fog of grief will begin to lift.
We will see a new starting line, red like the blood of Jesus, completely covered in grace.
Peace will come, propelling us forward as we begin to take our next steps beyond the starting line and into our new normal.
Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth,
do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.