New Address

There’s a routine I have when I get my mail. I make piles; the mail I need to open, the mail to throw away, and the mail that I have to look at before I throw away. Yesterday, one piece of mail caught me off guard, it had my husband’s name on it. It was an envelope, and I couldn’t tell whether it was junk or not. Seeing his name on the envelope was strange and unsettling. As I tossed the envelope in the trash, I thought of something else. I thought the name is correct, but the address isn’t. He doesn’t live here anymore. He has a new address.  

 I just finished reading the book, “Imagine Heaven” by John Burke. The book gives vivid accounts of people who have had near-death experiences and gone to heaven. From the reports of people who had glimpsed heaven, the author aligns it using Scripture to accurately describe heaven; the scents, the colors, and the beauty all beyond what we see on earth. Pastor and author, John Piper says, “heaven is a place of unparalleled and indescribable joy.” 

 As I was reading the book, I felt like I was getting a preview of a trip that I’ll be taking someday. After reading the book, I felt like I had a clearer picture of where my husband is now in his new home. I miss him every day, but my grief gives me hope beyond this life. I Thessalonians 4:13, (NIV) “we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” Grief and hope can cohabitate. 

 When I was young there was a song, we sang in Sunday School that has these words “this world is not my home, I’m just passing through, my treasure and my hope is placed beyond the blue.” The promise of a new home awaits where our loved ones are. The promise of where we’ll see Jesus and experience life evermore.

"Grateful Yet Grieving"

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download

Grief and Growth

This past winter California has experienced an abundance of rain that has produced what experts call a “super bloom”; a blanket of wildflowers that grow along the hills and in the deserts that take your breath away. From February to April, people travel and pull off the side of the highway to take pictures of the magnificent colors of floral beauty. The gray skies and wet days of winter had beauty waiting in its back pocket and brought a bounty of color.

Clarissa Moll, author of “Discovering Grace in Grief”, says, “New life can begin to grow when grief is allowed to take its course.” Growth occurs during our grief that we often can’t see. Where we started immediately following the loss of our loved one is not where we have stayed. Time passes and we are forced into a different life than we had. Our before is the opposite of our after. We are different. There’s been a reorientation after a major disorientation.

In the process of growth, we are faced with choices. Henri Nouwen, author, pastor, and theologian said, “Every time there are losses, there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper.”

In those passages to something new, wider, and deeper is where the growth happens.

Since my husband died, I’ve discovered a different life. My exterior life has changed with new friendships with other women who have experienced the loss of their spouse. My interior life has changed. There’s more room for empathy and less room for what use to annoy me. Some of my growth has opened a part of me that had lied dormant until my husband died; a space where my tears watered the growth of unwritten words that are now being written. 

To be sure, life is filled with challenges and changes. Out of the changes we are given the opportunity to grow and see what will result. As Isaiah 61:3 says, there can be “beauty instead of ashes”.

"Grateful Yet Grieving"

FREE ebook by Pam Luschei | Click HERE To Download