From the Hope Writer's January Writing Challenge: Renewal.
After death life goes on for everyone else. The world keeps spinning, and so it goes fewer and fewer people reach out because their world is not your world.
Meanwhile, the energy that the unexpected planning, memorializing, writing, hosting, and comforting takes to handle fleshly affairs after a loved one dies is draining. Throw in the processing too: what was yesterday that is no longer today. It’s hard; harder than words can say.
In the stillness that followed Carson’s death, I considered the days of dragging myself from my bed to the couch a win. I considered the days I ate something a win. I Googled… a lot. I wanted answers. I felt guilty. I had failed him. I failed Chris and others. I planned our next pregnancy… that also failed. I met with other moms who had lost a child. I tried to act “normal”. I tried to remember. I read books about people who had experienced loss, and I prayed. I worshipped, knees on the floor - hands lifted high, and I waited, impatiently.
Waiting for what? I thought I was waiting for a baby. But in hindsight, I can see I was waiting for renewal.
I knew God would restore me. He would keep me in His hand and renew my trust. He would keep His promises. The waiting chipped away at old parts of me that I needed to release.
Renewal started in the waiting for me and continued with a phone call. A call of hope. A call that offered us a beautiful gift wrapped in a bow (literally on her head): Mia Grace. A little more renewal came when I got pregnant again and was a vessel for life: Arie James, and even more renewal with another: Mateo Christopher. Although I’m not the same person I was, I’m still standing.
Renewal comes in all forms, but for me it’s rooted in Jesus. I carry Carson with me daily and miss him deep to my bones, but I can still see it.
If you’ve lost someone you love or your plans have failed too, and you’re in this space of stillness, renewal is coming. I’m speaking that over you, and you need to speak that over yourself. You won’t be the same person you were, and that is OK, but you will be again.