The Locust

I used to write a lot. I always really enjoyed it and had secrets thoughts of becoming a writer in my spare time. It’s not like I am such a unique that I imagine people would find what I have to say that interesting, but I guess that never killed my dream. When I was a kid, I used to write stories in my head when I had difficulty falling asleep. Any time I couldn’t sleep, I would go through the story in my head and then add more details to it. I did this for years but eventually just moved into journal writing occasionally. Then life happened - with all of its ups and downs and its wonder and sadness. College, death of loved ones, new jobs, building life long relationships, promotions, concussions, meeting my husband, loss, chronic life altering pain, loneliness, isolation, and more death. I stopped writing and moved into a survivalist mode where it was just more important to endure the day (or the minute). A few months ago, I had a small break in the storm and started to write again but never finished it. Here is an excerpt from the writing:

"The last 2 years have been some of the toughest years of my life.  I have grieved the loss of things I never expected to lose and felt incredible loneliness, isolation and paralyzing fear. I have experienced hopelessness so deep in my core that I wasn’t sure how I could exist any longer.  I would never wish this disease on anyone. Now as I struggle to find myself again and dig out of this pit, I find bits and pieces of my former self trying to emerge. I will never be the old me again and I struggle with that, but moving forward is very much needed. I feel it like a deep groan from within - like I can never be whole again if I can’t find a way to find SOMETHING good out of this." 

The irony is this was written one week before I would suffer another excruciating loss - that of my Uncle Craig who has been one of the biggest supporters in my life - personal, spiritual, and career-wise. When I had to walk away from my job last year due to health reasons, it was him alone that said the kindest and wisest things which gave me peace about my decision. It has been 3 months now and I still cannot believe it. Adding more loss to my world isn’t easy at this point. The moments when the grief come are unpredictable and unscripted. Moments when I except to grieve and I cannot even find a tear frustrate me. Moments when I am in public, surrounded by friends or strangers, and it just hits me out of the blue. I sit there with a smile on my face as my inner world is in shambles. It takes everything inside me not to fall apart. I have said for a while now that “I can fake anything.” I have found this to be true especially in the midst of grief and I am thankful for that small mercy. It affords me the illusion of control for whatever it’s worth. 

We often met Craig and Cindy for dinner and last night, Adam and I met Aunt Cindy at one of their favorite places. It was our first dinner out without him. We made a toast to him and we sat in silence observing our own grief for a moment. Dinner was pleasant with few tears but the void was immense. As we walked to our cars at the end of the evening, my heart was heavy to see Cindy go alone to her car and return to her house alone. I cried the whole way home. It is just different and different in a way that I never expected. His absence is an incredible void. I miss his humor, his wisdom, his love, his generosity, his outlook on life, his love of Jesus and our long discussions on life. The thought of never seeing him again in this life is a thought I loathe and it leaves me filled with sorrow. I must go on though.

This morning, I was scrolling through Facebook and came across an excerpt out of Joel, 

“So I will restore to you the years the swarming locust has eaten.” [Joel 2:25-32]. 

It has been ages since I read the book of Joel but the timing of the verse was apropos. I quickly read the whole chapter and pondered over line about "the consuming locust." So appropriate for me right now. During the last few years, it does seem like everything good has been eaten up and I’ve been left with a lot of loss, death, and sadness. Sometimes it is hard to see past all of it and imagine it any other way. It is quite stunning what a human being can become accustomed to both physically and emotionally. It was what I needed to hear in the moment - the promise of restoration in whatever form that may be soothes my broken heart. Hope for something different - something better - something to make me whole again. Hope to treasure the good memories and keep them alive and hope to touch other peoples' lives the way Craig did.