I love how the new year cause us to pause and reflect. I think there is something so special in the palpable difference the last few days of December and first few days of January brings to our souls as we think of who we are, who we have become, and who we want to be.
Some of you may be new here, or maybe thought I had decided to move on from blogging after I talked about wanting to post more of the things God was putting on my heart to share and then was silent. I never forgot or stopped; I have many posts sitting in my drafts. But I knew that this time, this next post, the thing God was asking me to share was something I was not sure I knew how, or wanted to know how, to be obedient in. I knew strongly in my heart that God was asking me to share my grief in this space — to talk about the loss of my dad in a direct way that I have chosen to avoid for many years.
So I tried and started post after post to try and share my journey of pain and grief in the way God was asking me and eventually gave up because I never found the words or could never make it through the emotions that surfaced to finished the post. But here I am again, feeling this strong nudge to share and be vulnerable a part of my journey through grief — to open myself up a little bit more to let others know they are not alone, that there is hope, and that there is life beyond survival.
For those of you that do not know, this past September marked 5 years without my dad. It is a number that feels so great and so small simultaneously. To me, this marker, this 5 year milestone, holds more weight than I could ever imagine. Of the many things that God has been teaching me since September 2021, what has stood out most prominently is His grace and provision for me.
As we have started a new year, all I can think about is how this is the first year since my dad past that I have started January looking ahead at the next 12 months before with HOPE. It’s funny how when we lose something like hope how we don’t always realize the depths of what we have lost until we get it back.
When Dad died, I lost all sense of hope in life. I clung to the goodness of God like a lifeboat because I knew if I lost sight of that truth, I would lose myself, but I didn’t trust Him or have faith in the promise that He had good things for my life. All that I knew was I had been obedient to His pressing to step out in faith and get on a plane to go to Ohio for a worship intensive that ended with receiving the worst call of my life and getting on a plane to a very different future. And somewhere within that I allowed myself to believe that obedience to God is just what you do but I never let myself hope to see blessing or goodness in it.
You might have heard me say this before, but my dad was my person. He was my safe place in all the trauma I experienced the few years before his accident. He was the person that saved me when I could not save myself and I was counting on him to be there as I continued to heal and grow for the next few years. Losing him felt like losing so much of myself. It was losing my safe place and losing the one I knew would be my anchor when healing felt like drowning. The trauma of losing him was the final blow to every bit of strength I had and I truly didn’t know how I was going to make it to the next day for a long time. All I knew was to put one foot in front of the other and I would survive but I also knew that wasn’t living.
I remember in that first year when making it to the 5 year mark felt like the most impossible thing in the world. I remember when I believed that there would be no joy in 5 years, that everything I would accomplish until then would be in vain because Dad was no longer there to watch, and that it would all still be meaningless because it was without him.
I very much lived life out of that kind of grief and deep pain for a long time. I hated the world, hated the lot I had been given, and was full of bitterness towards happiness and joy no matter how much I tried. Everything I saw was dark and I could not find light. I was doing and trying my best — the kind of best that is a sort of survival and is constantly questioned or doubted even those that are closest to you because it comes from such a raw place. And to be honest, knowing all that I know now about my life and the traumas I walked through in such a short span of time, I can confidently say that I really was giving the best that I had…I was just that raw.
I knew Jesus. I clung to Jesus the best ways I knew how. I asked questions and yelled my pain and brought my tears to His feet. And for all these ways I could list as to how, the biggest proof that I have is the gift the Holy Spirit has been so sweetly bringing to the forefront of my spirit these past few months: I am no longer in that place.
In fact, I am much more than simply past the bitterness and raw pain. Year 5 holds the joy and hope that I thought I would no longer experience. Year 5 is living life to its fullest potential. Year 5 is laughter and growth. Year 5 is being my best self I have ever been. Year 5 is being proud of the two degrees I worked so hard for and knowing that my dad would be proud beyond words of what I accomplished. Year 5 is being able to work at a place my dad loved and has his print all over it. Year 5 is worship and gratitude for all the Lord has done. Year 5 feels like the sweetest gift I never saw coming.
So, here’s to the next 5 years and all that comes with it. Here’s growing even more and looking more like Jesus each day. Here’s to taking it day-by-day, with each days joys and sorrows, and making it another 5 years to find yourself in an unexpected place. Here’s to clinging to Jesus no matter what comes our way, knowing He is our sustenance each day.
Here’s to hoping again.
Deep Diving 