The Space Between Then and Now

 

When I wrote my last post in February, I was beginning again. I had written about this blog starting back in 2010, about all the seasons of life that had brought me here, and about wanting this space to become a place for reflection, creativity, encouragement, and hope. I didn't know then just how much life was about to change. The months since February have been some of the most emotional of my life.

 On March 21, we lost Scott, my first husband, my children’s father. There are some losses that don't fit neatly into words. Even when you know that life is fragile, even when you know that everyone eventually faces loss, there is something different about waking up one morning and realizing that someone who has been part of your life story for decades is no longer here.

 Grief has a way of changing the landscape despite how the world keeps moving. There are emails to answer, dishes to wash, plans to make, birthdays to celebrate, and ordinary Sunday afternoons that somehow still arrive. And yet, underneath all of it, something has changed. I've spent a lot of time this year learning what it means to carry grief while continuing to live. Some days there are tears. Some days it has meant memories. Some days it means being grateful for the people around me. And some days it has simply meant getting through the day and recognizing that getting through the day was enough. I think I'm learning that grief isn't something we necessarily finish, we learn how to make room for it.

 Work has changed, too. I've found myself stepping into more responsibility and figuring out what it means to trust my own voice. There have been challenging days and plenty of moments when I've questioned myself, but there have also been moments when I realized that I know more than I sometimes give myself credit for.

 And somewhere in the middle of all of this, I've kept coming back to creativity. Painting. Watercolor. Journaling. Words on a page. The little projects that don't necessarily need to become anything. It has reminded me that creativity doesn't always have to be productive. Sometimes it can simply be a place to breathe.

 I can miss someone and still laugh. I can grieve and still be grateful. I can feel tired and still feel hopeful. I can have days when I don't know what comes next and still believe that there is something good ahead. My faith has become quieter this year, but perhaps deeper too. I'm learning that sometimes faith is simply trusting that I don't have to understand everything to keep walking, So, here I am, a little older, a little softer in some places and stronger in others. Carrying some things I never expected to carry and still learning how to put down the things that no longer belong to me. I don't know exactly what this next season will look like but, I think I'm ready to meet it.