Love Continues to Win

"My lover is mine and I am his.  Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.  All night long, I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him.  I will get up now and go about the city through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves.  So I looked for him but did not find him.  The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.  'Have you seen the one my heart loves?'  Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves.  I held him and would not let him go until I brought him home.  Daughters, do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."  Song of Songs 3:1-5

                                              

I think as a young widow, your wedding anniversary is the hardest mile stone to pass.  Just like last year around this time, I've been in a fairly dark place over the last three weeks, physically reacting to what I think is July 28th.  For an entire week I had a constant headache and would cry at a mere butterfly landing on my front porch.  Everything has made me think of him, continuing to ponder an unknown and disappeared future that was at one time real.  I know it sounds unproductive, but my mind goes to these places, especially during mile stones.  I have found this date to be harder than any other date.  His birthday, Christmas, even March 9th.  July 28th was the most remarkable day of my life, for it was the day I chose my family and committed my heart to John Duncan Wilburn.  It was the day a new life began, and I was excited.

The loss of John is different to so many people and milestones are different for each of them.  I would imagine for his parents it may be the day he was born and they held him for the first time.  For his grandparents I think it may be his time at Virginia Tech or the time they took him to Disney World as a young boy.  For his kayaking friends, it may be Gauley season, or every time they take a lap down the James.  For his co-workers it may the day he planted his trees.  His death even impacts many that never met him, but truly wish they had.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of how much this loss affects everyone, and how the pain is unique and significant for each person.

I'm finding this year to be a state of limbo, as if I am frozen in time.  I wouldn't say it is worse than 2014, it's simply different.   I'm at this place where I so want to move forward and feel things again, yet I am still so wrapped up in my love, as if he is returning.  I get tired of my pain at times, tired of the solitude. I watch so many close friends continue in their marriages, plan for families, find new experiences together, yet I feel frozen in this other place watching.  I can remember what that life was like, but I am not a part of that anymore which feels strange.  It's as if my brain and my heart can't find each other.  They are not on the same page.  I understand the facts of my reality and what this means for my future, yet my heart feels as if it is grasped around John's heart so tightly, begging for his return.  I can't seem to fully let go and I'm starting to wonder if that is even possible.  If that is the case, how does one create a new space for new love when their heart feels bound to someone else?  I haven't figured this one out yet.

 I let a good friend wrap his strong arms around me for the first time in 16 months.  I let him run his hands through my hair, I let him touch my face, I let him hold me close to his chest.  I let myself touch him back and wrap my arms around him, holding him close.  I've never let anyone do that since John.  I feel as if I've had cement walls around me since his death, afraid to consider anyone beyond him.  I wanted to remember how it felt to simply be touched and held again.  I wanted to feel something, anything.  It was beautiful and heart breaking at the same time.  To know I could allow myself to go there, yet to also know these strong arms and steady heart beat  wrapped all around me don't belong to John left me in limbo.  I felt alive and dead at the same time.  I wanted to laugh and cry in unison.  I wanted to scream and beat my arms against his chest in protest, yet hold my friend close and remember I'm alive through his touch.  This space is strange and confusing, exciting and devastating, wonderful and empty, all at the same time.

I went to church this past Sunday in Fayetteville.  I've been feeling a strong urge to go lately, so I decided to try out this small Methodist church in down town.   As soon as I walked through the doors I had people approaching me and welcoming me to the service.  I've never been greeted in a church so warmly as I was here.  Even the pastor came down from the pulpit, walked right up to my pew and greeted me.  I felt completely at peace in a crowd of strangers, as if I was home.  The pastor spoke about the importance of creating a space of rest.  She talked about the need for us to be OK with quietness and allowing yourself to pause in prayer, allowing the holy spirit to speak to you.  By going to those places of rest and solitude, we are better prepared to serve our purpose here on earth and help those around us, love those around us.  Jesus did this in order to heal others and encouraged his disciples to do the same.  We become our best selves through the art of meditation, silence and rest.  

I've been thinking a lot lately about this chapter of life I've found myself in over the last few months.  Why am I in this place of  limbo as I pass this mile stone?  Listening to this message this past Sunday quietly, I felt as if God was speaking directly to my heart.  I believe I am in this place of  stillness so I can fully become aware of God's presence in my life and his continuous grace.  I believe he needs my attention, my time, my awareness of his light in my heart so that I can help others, love others, and better serve his purpose for me, whatever that may be.  It is through this silence that I am discovering this new woman in me.

  I wrote about what it means to me to be a Christian to a good friend a few weeks ago.  This was the first time I've ever tried to explain my faith to someone.  I found myself having a similar conversation with one of my closest friends on our way back from the river the other day.   To be completely honest, I am hesitant at times to tell others of my Christianity, simply because there are so many "Christians"  that have corrupted God's love for our world.  Threats of hell, constant reminders of our brokenness, and this arrogance that everyone else is wrong.  It's gross and disappointing.  I've wondered lately if I'm a mixture of Christian and Buddhist.  I believe all spirituality is important when  it drives us to love ourselves and each other.  I read some scripture before the service started on Sunday and found my hands resting on this verse as I flipped through the pages.

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice.  And his peace will be with you."  Philippians 4:8

What I said to both of these people I care about is this. It is so hard to try and explain to someone that what I believe in  I can't see or prove to you, yet I feel completely confident in it's truth through my heart.  I have no facts to back up my faith.  All I can tell you is that my heart feels completely warm in the midst of complete pain.  I feel lighter, I feel carried and protected, I feel incredible love for something big in my heart that is growing.  I believe that suffering is a part of the human experience that everyone will go through at some point, more than once.  I believe joy is also a part of this.  I believe how we walk through those experiences shapes our spirit. and determines our future.  I believe God can do things beyond our imagination if we simply trust him not just in joy, but in our darkest moments.  I feel as if I am heading home some day, to a place I have always belonged where there is no pain, no sickness, but complete peace and light.  A place where the unseen becomes seen.   I believe my time here now is meant to make a difference through love that I believe comes from the grace of my creator.  I believe the warmth in my heart is a small glimpse of what is to come.  This choice to believe God comes from a place I cannot see, I can only feel and trust.

My wedding day and my marriage to my sweet John was lovely.  It was true.  It was noble.  It was praiseworthy.  I believe that regardless of how short ours was, I had a wonderful man that chose me as I chose him.  We found each other in this chaotic world  that we live in.  To give your heart to another person the way you do on your wedding day is precious.  I hope all those that are married and reading this, those that are considering marriage and are reading this, remember how incredible that gift is, how fragile life can be, and chose to reflect on the lovely things always, allow love to win.  I have learned that nothing is permanent, and the flesh will fail us at some point.  Yet, to think of those lovely things, to chose gratitude for that love and reflect on that season of joy opens up the door to God's peace and complete grace through pain.  

So I will continue through this chapter of limbo as I pass this mile stone.  I will continue to seek my resting place and solitude among the mountains and allow God to unfold my heart, shape and mold me.  I believe so much of my life to come depends on this time right now, this chapter.  I believe love will come again when it so desires, not a minute early or late.  While I look forward to that day, I feel eager to know my creator more, to understand my purpose and how deep this relationship with God can go, to love my friendships and family, to love the woman I am becoming.  I'll allow love to continue to win.

Rise with the Sun

If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me."  Psalm 139:9-10

I had the opportunity to spend this past week at Topsail Beach, NC with my sisters, my brother Luke and Melissa.  We rented a lovely cottage beach house called "Pleasant Views" where we had views of both the bay and the ocean.  It is the one week out of my entire year where I literally make no plans, and no schedules.

This same week last year in 2014, I had just arrived to the east coast after driving my pets across the country away from our home in Oregon.  John's ashes sat beside me the entire way.  When I arrived back east I spent a week in the Outer banks with my family.  That week stirred many different emotions.  I remember just being still so absolutely shocked that I was back on the east coast for good and without John. My heart physically ached that week and I remember just wanting time to stop.  It was also that week that I had the most vivid dream I have ever had about John and many questions I had been asking over and over again to myself were answered.  After that experience, I ended up writing a blog called "A Shift."  I wrote about a series of events I had been through in the last month and the transition back east I was going through.  I read through that blog towards the beginning of this week and thought to myself, "man I was such a mess at that point."  I really was.    Regardless of how bad it was during that time, I was still getting up every morning, still moving and doing everything I could to take steps forward, I just can't remember much of it.  It was definitely a time when the pain was simply numbing and the hours, days, months seemed to all flow together.  I thought about that shift a lot this week and how I was able to move through those days during that time.  I thought a lot this week about my words during that time and what "A Shift" has meant to me over the last 16 months.

This past week, I spent each morning walking on the beach as the sun was rising with my dog Jake.  We would get up a little before 6am and simply walk together.  I am an early riser and always have been.  One thing I have found to be so important throughout the last 16 months is to take time in the mornings to prepare myself for the day, even if it is a stress-free day at the beach.  I believe that the early hours of the morning are a great time to meditate and allow yourself to become present.  To me, being present means being fully aware of the pain, acknowledging it, giving it my full attention, and then turning it over to my creator so the current moment becomes the focus and I can listen.  I spent the mornings walking along the beach and pouring my heart out.  For me, this means speaking to God, but I believe anyone taking the journey can relate to that time of meditation through many different forms.

The ocean to me is a true healing place.  There is something so peaceful about standing among a body of water that is so consistent.  It's as if she understands my pain and my journey, and every day walking along her sandy shores, I felt like her guest, paying a visit to her spectacular images and sounds.  I thought so much about John as I walked with our dog and how to me, he is now a part of this eternal presence and imagery.  These precious moments in the morning felt like our time, and I could feel him with every breath, every step.  It was in those moments where God's love was so powerful and so selfless that I found it hard to speak.  I believe it is him that allows the love John and I felt for each other to shine through so I can remember and smile.

My brother, Luke and I spent some time walking along the shoreline this morning with our dogs.  Luke had recently listened to a special on Ted Talks about how the human mind is constantly wandering, and how more than 50% of your time is spent thinking about anything other than what you are currently doing.  I used to be so terrible about this and constantly stressed about the future.  I knew it drove my husband crazy, it was just how I was wired at the time.  Losing John and walking through this journey of grief has really taught me how to be present and while I am certainly no expert, I am far more present than I used to be.  As a believer in Christ, I have come to understand through what I believe is his voice, that there really is no connection, new learning or new perspective in my past or in an unknown future.  It is right now.  I believe each day in those early morning hours, God equips me for a new day and prepares me for what is ahead.  I believe it is hard to understand that, to truly see that when we are not present which can hinder our healing process.

"Be still and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10

I spent time this week connecting with my siblings and my dear friend Melissa.  Melissa is on a journey of grief as well and being at the beach together I believe was really good for both of us.  We took a walk yesterday and talked about our journey and where life has currently taken us.  Sometimes it can be hard to think that you've truly made progress until you allow yourself to revisit the past.  This week we both revisited the 24 hours that led to the death of our husbands and the events that proceeded after that.  It can be terrifying to go back like that.  I find that my body physically reacts to it, to the trauma.  Regardless, I have found it is important to do this with her as my friend, for it is a clear reminder of again how powerful God can be and where he has taken us.  

This week as I reflected on  my life so far, I found so many things to be grateful for simply by looking into the eyes of my family and dear friend.  I truly am blessed.  We spent so much time laughing until my abs hurt and playing like kids again.  We cooked delicious meals together, gave thanks together.  We were present together.  I really believe that when you have to take a journey through deep grief, remembering and connecting to those that are still here, those that love you is so important.  This scripture came to mind as I thought about my continued purpose here and the love others have shown me through this walk.

"Love me with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.  Of all things, hang onto these two commandments."  Matthew 22:38-40.  

I have come to believe that our purpose here on earth truly is that simple, yet so much of our world is so distant from this.  So damaged.  My journey has allowed me to truly reflect on the people in my life that have loved me selflessly and consider how I want to love others that cross my path.  I have also had the pleasure of meeting new faces that have made profound impacts on my heart since March 9th.  I don't believe any of those connections are of pure coincidence.  I believe it is a continuous reflection of God's love for me and this world.  God's love for John.

I am now 31 years old and have been without my husband's physical presence for almost 16 months now.  If you had told me I'd make it through these last 16 months, 16 months ago, I would have laughed.   25 days from now would have marked three years of marriage to my best friend.  If you had told me that I'd walk through that successfully last year, I would have laughed even harder.  But I am walking with a purpose, with light, with continuous feelings of eternal love that I don't believe I could see in my past life because I wasn't present, I didn't understand.

"No power in the sky above, or the earth below, indeed, nothing in all creation will every be able to separate us from the love of God."  Romans 8:39

John's love for me is so eternal and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about that and give thanks.  Our love is eternal because I truly believe that nothing can separate God's love from me, and through God, I feel John.  I believe the shift I have gone through over the last 16 months as I journey through this grief has taught me how incredible this love is.  Just like the ocean, this love from my creator is consistent, unfailing and guaranteed.   For that alone I will rise with the sun and start my mornings everyday, living for that love.