Ripping Off the Bandage

I'm back! For good? Maybe. Only time can tell. 

Whether this is your first time here at the blog or you've been sitting on the edge of your seat for the last 13 months just waiting for me to write again I thank you for taking the time to read.

Let's dive right in and start where I left off last November. It was my birthday. A joyous occasion I celebrated in my favorite city (San Francisco) in my favorite state (California) doing things I loved and have missed for years. 

Exploring SF on my birthday - trolley ride, Ghiradelli sundae, Lombard Street, and the TransAmerica building!

But just a few days later something happened. Something I knew was going to happen, yet nothing I could truly prepare myself for - believe me, I tried. Grief struck and it hit hard. While I was celebrating in CA my grandmother was in hospice care in Florida and had decided to withdraw life-sustaining care (food and water). From the time we got that news to the day she passed was only six days. So instead of returning to Ohio after 10 days away I hopped on a plane to FL where I met my family and extended family.

We arrived at around midnight on Thursday and drove straight to the hospice center. More than one year later I'm still not ready to talk about what happened when I got into her room. I can't even think about it without streams of tears running out of my eyes, but it was still necessary to be there. By 6:30 the following morning (Friday) we got the phone call that she had passed. I can't describe that car ride to you. I can't put into words what I was thinking. I was tired. I was scared. I was worn.

So I wrote this:

"It's in moments like this that I am glad I have hope in eternal things and trust in what I can not see, because what I can see is pain and heartache. What I do see are temporal things wasting away, day by day. When face with the reality of my pain I want to run. The fear is overwhelming and I forget that God is bigger than all of it, that the king of the world himself is with me in my time of sorrow, fear, and pain.

I do not carry this burden alone. My shoulders do not have to hoist this by themselves. My God will fulfill all my needs today according to his glorious riches. When I walk through the fire I will not be burned. When the waters wash over me I will not be consumed. For my God is the God of peace. Of hope. Of healing. Of joy. Of love. In Him there is no fear."

From the backseat of a rental car at 7:17 a.m. On November 13th, 2015 I wrote that. I know there are more, but at this moment I can remember two distinct times in my life that Scripture has flooded my thoughts. Two times I needed the Word more than anything else: June 10, 2013 - the day my Pop-Pop died, it was John 14:27, which says, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" - and this day, the day Grandma died. 

My sister Rachel and our cousins Alana and Elisabeth at Grandma's memorial

And on that day in Florida I began to retreat. I had felt this pain before. I knew what was coming. Grandma had been sick. Pop-Pop had been sick. Death was imminent for each of them in ways we could see coming. But it doesn't hurt any less to lose someone whether you know beforehand or not. My response this time was to pull away a bit, to surround myself with people I loved. To grab as many hugs and meaningful conversations as I could. I evaluated the person I was, who I had become, and the weight of loss. Past loss, current loss, and even loss to come. I felt this hurt for months and months. I still feel the hurt and pain from this loss and others to this day, but life goes on. And I go on. It's all I can do. 

As I said at the beginning, the regularity of which I post from here on out is unknown. I know I want to come back here and regale you with all my wisdom and humor, but I don't know what will happen. I re-entered this space last year with good intentions to post and reflect, but life happened and my walls went up. For now, though, the bandage is ripped off. The wound is bare for all of you to see. For those of you that have walked through this season with my I thank you. I couldn't have made it without you. For those who had no idea any of this happened, welcome to the fray. I'm glad you're here.