It’s finally summer here in southwestern Pennsylvania, but the long-lasting effects of winter still linger in the deeper recesses of my heart. Winter is cold, inhospitable, and grey, and those recesses tend to be the same. Sometimes, on very rare occasions, the sunlight will pierce the darkness and make me smile. I try hard to hang on to the light, but it eventually slips away, ushering in the return of the grey.
I’ve written in the past about feeling melancholy; a word that best describes the condition of my shattered heart. That feeling of pensive sadness with no obvious cause. Many would argue that I have cause to feel sad, I would argue back that while they are correct in some ways, the causes of my melancholy aren’t as obvious as people seem to think. I’ve made a good life for myself in Pennsylvania and have so much to be thankful for. I’m building a community with people in my church, I’m blessed to have a home I can afford and feel safe in, and I have my beloved grandchildren nearby.
Maybe what I’m feeling isn’t melancholy, maybe it’s more of a longing. I long for peace in America, and all we seem to have is division and hatred and racism. I read in Jeremiah 15 this morning that the Lord clearly states that He will continue to let us backslide and will not save us if we continue to follow corrupt leaders. Where do we turn when our government has failed us? I am not a republican or a democrat, I am just a woman that knows she isn’t valued by the powers that be in this country. That’s okay, I’m valued by God. If we would turn from our wicked ways, stop yelling over one another to be heard, and listen with ears that want to hear, maybe we could find common ground again.
I don’t like getting political… Please, stop yelling…
As I sit on my little patio with a breeze blowing and music playing, I am reminded that I have climbed the mountains that God placed before me in October of 2017, May, june, July, August and September of 2018. October of 2019 thru March of 2022. In March, the last piece of the puzzle for me to be able to settle in PA was put into place. I moved my husband’s urn here and he is resting peacefully about 20 minutes away from me. I can still hear him encouraging me to move forward and life a full life and I’m trying. For every tear I’ve cried since he had his stroke, I’ve cried just as many in gratefulness that he no longer suffers. I’ve learned to let go of the white-hot pain when it comes, take a deep breath, and wait on God to do what He does best. God carries me, and there is power in my weakness. Grace does what I simply cannot do, it soothes me…
I find myself at a crossroads once again, but this time it’s not mountains I have to climb. This time it’s a chasm that I have to navigate. Standing on the edge of this chasm causes me to feel so many conflicting emotions, and looking across to the other side is almost impossible. Almost… In the ravines of the chasm lay the ghosts of my past, and their words are waiting to pierce my heart. How do I scale down the cliffs to the bottom of the chasm so I can begin this next journey? Will there be anyone down there for me to lean on? Will I be hurt physically as well as emotionally? So many questions, with very few answers… The one sure thing? God will provide me a way down, and across, and up and out the other side. I wish I knew that the outcome would be as succesful as my last journey, and the lessons learned from that particular journey will definitely be studied as I move along in this new one. A very dear friend recently told me to “trust the journey” and I will. God loves me and He won’t let me get lost unless I ask Him to. Not. Going. To. Happen.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything, and if you’re reading this, please know that I appreciate you very much. When I started this blog all those years ago, I never thought that I would write about anything other than estrangement and loss. I’m quite glad to admit that I was so wrong. I am still an estranged parent, I doubt that will ever change. I still pray for my daughter every night and every morning, but now I just step out of the fray and let the Holy Spirit do what He does. The battle is spiritual and the only weapon I can fight with is prayer. I am well-equipped. I then thought grief would be the only thing I would have to write about after my husband died, and again I was wrong. I miss him, of course, but I’m okay. I think my new journey will reveal to me whether or not I should keep this blog going, and I hope the answer is yes.
I encourage you to practice self-care, be kind to one another and smile as often as possible. The world outside the doors of our homes is full of chaos, discourse, and hatred. It’s up to us to make a difference for each other, and we can make our corners of the world a better place to be…
Reflections of Refulgence 