Waking up early is one thing.

Never getting to sleep is an entirely different thing, and something that I can't remember ever being this severe.  I haven't slept well in a week, but I've always at least fallen asleep.

So when you haven't slept, I guess you write.

Psalm 77 in The Message has exactly what I feel at the moment (vv. 2-6):

I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord; my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.  When friends said, “Everything will turn out all right,” I didn’t believe a word they said.
I remember God—and shake my head. I bow my head—then wring my hands.
I’m awake all night—not a wink of sleep; I can’t even say what’s bothering me.  I go over the days one by one, I ponder the years gone by.  I strum my lute all through the night, wondering how to get my life together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was reflecting earlier on the short amount of time we were in our house, not only because our time together was so short, but also because of BMT land.  The trigger this time was kitchen gadgets, things that we got from the wedding, things that we used, but only a few times, things that I've used but only recently, because they are no longer in storage and I thought they no longer had emotional power.  But it's not necessarily a bad power.

So anyway, we spent maybe a little over 7 months in the house, one and a half before entering BMT land, and then remembering living back and forth between DeLand and Tampa, hearing the fireworks at Busch Gardens from the apartment, taking walks and runs around the little "lake," flushing the port, Dinosaur World, so much driving, so many days of empty brain, and all of it just a glimpse of how many memories there are and how much still to unlock.  And I have planned to do some of that Saturday, which will be very good but very hard.



Mercifully I don't have a lot going on today.

I guess I'll go for a run.

A lament

How do I go forward when the path is beyond repair?

How can I take steps with such a heavy load?

Why give us what we desire, what we didn’t know we wanted, 

Only to take it away, too soon to have enjoyed it?

Where is comfort in solitude?

Where is light that does not mock?

Who can stand to move against

The bitter winds of emptiness?

Talk to me, show me the way out of darkness;

Nourish my body and soul with your provision.

Make a new path, direct my steps, 

And bolster my resolve to follow You.

Only then can I begin to walk the chosen path.

By Your strength, I can see the true light

And find Your purpose in the pain.

I think I know better, but You are sovereign.

Even if I were perfect, still Your plan is better.

And I am not wise, I am not good.

But You are good, and You do good.

You have worked these things for my good,

And will comfort me so I can comfort others.

So I trust You, and I must follow You.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

The inevitable interview question that I rarely, if ever, have an answer for, and yet here I am, not at the moment looking to five years down the road but instead looking at the five years I've travelled.  And let me tell you, I did not see myself here almost in any capacity.  We measure life in many different ways, and for whatever reason our human brain tends to like groups of five.  We have five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot; when we tally, the fifth mark is the different mark; we claim to have five senses (though we really have more); some believe that there are five elements that make up the world; we make bigger celebrations out of the 5's and 10's (birthday's, anniversaries, whatever).

This is not the five years I could have ever saw.

So once again here I am about to say that nothing in my life is because of my own plans, that I didn't try and make happen anything of where I currently am and am doing and the people I've met and all those wonderful things.

The thing that was one of the defining features of the first year of Cam's death has been plaguing me for several weeks now: knowing exactly how many days away February 2nd is.  I haven't slept through the night in over a week, although I did finally do the math and at least my body really still is doing sleep cycles, but only three instead of the usual five.  Hey look, NOT five.




Today's been a weird day.  That anger thing was ever present, although I would hazard that if you asked anyone that interacted with me that they would have no idea.  But on the inside I was ready to smash things into walls, not because of any trigger, but this is just apparently the flavor of my life for this season.

I'm rambling but I'm trying to make myself write more so that I don't keep it in all the time.  Also I started this this morning and didn't get to finish my original thoughts until about 10 hours later.

Thank You for bringing me here

I've been trying a different approach to prayer as suggested by a book, to use a deep breath in and then a short sentence/phrase on the exhale as a prayer.  And while this isn't an entirely new concept (Nehemiah models this as one style of prayer), this morning something strange came out.

"Thank You for bringing me here."

Now, the strangeness for me is not in recognition of God bringing me here.  I feel like whenever I speak of the subject of being in the Jacksonville area, I point to God's plan (sometimes vaguely, sometimes specifically), but then in the same breath I often say that I would not choose to be here.  You don't move to Jacksonville- you end up in Jacksonville.

So that's where the strangeness is.  Gratitude for where I'm at.  It's a small shift, and maybe over the past few years this sentiment has grown to where it is now being expressed, but to go from "God brought me here" to "thank God He brought me here" rocked my world a little bit.  I'm sure I've been openly thankful for friends that I've made, or opportunities that have arisen because of my life circumstances, but the acknowledgement of it as an all inclusive package from a God Who cares about big and little details and gives both what we need and what are gifts that we probably never would have thought to ask for. . .

Related, a Psalm:

Psalm 11 (MSG)
I’ve already run for dear life straight to the arms of God.  So why would I run away now when you say, “Run to the mountains; the evil bows are bent, the wicked arrows aimed to shoot under cover of darkness at every heart open to God.  The bottom’s dropped out of the country; good people don’t have a chance”?
But God hasn’t moved to the mountains; his holy address hasn’t changed. He’s in charge, as  always, his eyes taking everything in, his eyelids unblinking, examining Adam’s unruly brood inside and out, not missing a thing.  He tests the good and the bad alike; if anyone cheats, God’s outraged.  Fail the test and you’re out, out in a hail of firestones, drinking from a canteen filled with hot desert wind.
God’s business is putting things right; he loves getting the lines straight, setting us straight. Once we’re standing tall, we can look him straight in the eye.

A different kind of race

Well, another year, and another "survival" marathon completed.  I'm sure somewhere I said that I would never not train again, and if I did that I would just give up at that point.

I really gotta stop saying never.

But anyway, the one aspect of the race I'm going to use as a way to focus my mind as I attempt to not ramble is this: it was the HOTTEST race I've done.  Not just Disney marathon, but any race ever in the past nine years (granted I think the most races I've done in a year is three, I don't know the exact number, but still, I live in Florida and all but one race has been somewhere down here).  And it was warm when it started, around 70°F and 90% humidity, and only got worse over time.  I actually wasn't feeling all that bad until somewhere around 10 AM or so, which would have been over the halfway point.

And so, as I have done previously, I will make this race analogous to how the year went.

Training was actually going well for a little while.  I picked up running in July, and by the end of August, when I had moved into my new place, I was running 3 miles almost comfortably and had pushed myself to 4 once or twice.  And then I don't really know what happened, outside of the hurricane that never was, but it was around that time that the running completely dropped off.

Now, to be fair, this past fall was the craziest fall I've had from a schedule perspective.  But also there was something else diminishing my ability to flourish: the heat, the humidity, the anger.

The anger.

Anger.

I know that Kübler-Ross's model of grief is not meant to be in stages (as in once you get past denial, you evolve into anger!) and also that it was research done about people facing their own deaths and not necessarily the deaths of others.  But at the same time I can only speak to my experience, and as I alluded to around the last entry, I'm pretty sure I've been in denial for a while and am just starting to get past that, but also I have moved into anger slowly but surely.  And so, for my analytical mind, the proof:

I don't know that I have an entry that speaks directly to denial outside of this mention of a period of time where I would wake up and an internal voice would remind me that Cam died.  This entry was almost a year ago, and the absence of that voice probably happened sometime over the summer of 2018 if I had to make a guess.  But then you take entry after entry after entry about my own lamenting that I don't talk to people and maybe it's less "I don't know how to do this" and more subconsciously "if I start to do this more it becomes reality."

(Also my brain was maybe fully developed as all this happened?  Engaged at 24, her diagnosis at 25, widowed at 26?  Who let me do anything?)

And then the other side of this theory, that I'm only now really dealing with anger.  This writing is from the fall of 2018, and while it may have just been a fluke week. . . I know myself enough to know that when I write things of that nature, they are obvious.  I don't have an exact moment because see above, it's not black and white stages as much as I would like for it to be that way.  But definitely 2019 I found myself angry about many things, and while some bigger things may have had some legitimacy, nothing excuses a general anger about things like:
- knocking my air freshener off my car and then not being able to find it.  INFURIATING
- having to be responsible for a simple issue that requires literally one of the things I'm responsible for on the functional side of church.  HOW DARE YOU COMPLAIN
- Florida drivers.  OK, maybe I get a pass on this one

But I could make a list of a million little things, and I know that I am not that person.  I would be curious to talk with people that have spent time with me in the past 6-18 months and see if there is any insight.  I think the flip side of that is that I know well enough that those things are spiritual battles and whether fully confronting or out of habit, I would very likely not get to a point of being completely taken over by anger, no matter how tempting.  I think the incident that shows it the most was the apartment situation, and I did go further than I may have if I had realized that this is the current state of the grief rock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like I've said a lot and said nothing at all.  But I am going to quote myself from an older entry:

I have forgotten that reentering life means reentering the spiritual battlefield.

The end of 2019

Something I’ve said in the past few days in various forms:

2019 was not supposed to be this way.

There’s many things swirling around my brain....but the one I am gonna put down tonight is this.  I think at some point in the past year, I transitioned into a stage that I thought I had already dealt with.  If you believe in the DABDA form of grief, then I think I’ve only been getting into the anger phase.  And there’s a lot of evidence to point to that- unfortunately I am posting on my phone so it’s hard to go back and cite specific writings, but if denial=the period of time where I would wake up and go “remember that you were married?” and couple that with the lack of being open to talk about Cam and I think it’s been several years of denial.  And reflecting back, particularly on the past six months, there’s definitely been some anger, whether justified or not, that I think is uncharacteristic of how I “normally” function.  And so it scares me a little bit if this is the case, as five years is approaching and that has already been a long haul.

So 2020 comes.  I have set formal resolutions some years, lately I’ve been picking a word to define the year, but I think for the current projection my focus has really got to be on health: physical, emotional, spiritual.

There are many other things, as there always are, and I am going to do my best to make myself write once a week, even if it only becomes short ramblings like this.  And while 2019 hasn’t all been terrible by any means (I recorded a CD a year ago!), I would not have expected to find myself in the place I am currently at.

This has been my encouraging place to live lately:

2 Corinthians 5
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.

He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. 

We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil. Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we persuade others. But what we are is known to God, and I hope it is known also to your conscience. We are not commending ourselves to you again but giving you cause to boast about us, so that you may be able to answer those who boast about outward appearance and not about what is in the heart. For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you. For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised. From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 

All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Triggered

I don't even know if that is in vogue anymore or not, but it's the only word I could think of that encapsulates all of the things.

The elementary school where we meet as a church has changed their hand soap, and it is the same brand/smell as the soap was (and likely still is) at Moffitt.

A little thing, a simple thing, a crazy thing. . . but trust me, I washed my hands so often during BMT land that I could never mistake something else for it.



I hit a low point a little over a month ago.  It's only been the past couple weeks or so that I've gotten my face out of the dirt and able to see a little light around, but I still haven't gotten myself off of the ground.  This has also somehow become the busiest fall and it's not even November yet.

What I'm currently wrestling with is 1 Corinthians 7 (ESV is linked but this is a few verses from that chapter via The Message):

7 Sometimes I wish everyone were single like me—a simpler life in many ways! But celibacy is not for everyone any more than marriage is. God gives the gift of the single life to some, the gift of the married life to others.

17 And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life. Don’t think I’m being harder on you than on the others. I give this same counsel in all the churches.

19-20 The really important thing is obeying God’s call, following his commands.  Stay where you were when God called your name.


Stay where you were when God called your name. 



If that sentiment isn't what I've held on to for the past four and a half years then I just don't know what else I could say.  I know that things cycle, that there's low points and high points, and so for the moment I just have to keep holding on.