I’m entering year two since my husband passed away. And still I struggle with daily living. Perhaps you can relate. For example, today, my allergies are causing a pounding in my head and a churning in my gut. That, on top of dreaming that my husband was alive, and we were driving in a beautiful mountain region on vacation. We stopped for gas and at that point the dream jumped to finding him passed out in a field by the gas station, muttering nonsense, people gathered around staring…me yelling at them, and the dog running off. I was reliving his quick and radical demise. I woke up in tears and my head ached.
My throat is swelling, I can't go to work and expose my ill and fragile patient to possibly getting sicker. After making my dutiful call-ins, I laid down on the couch, feeling lost with no foundation upon which to set my feet. Dear God, where do you want me, mentally, geographically, creatively? I feel like Jonah (who makes me laugh) because I, too, just want to run away and tend to stomp my foot at God’s choices for me…since He doesn’t follow my own. But I trust the Lord and this is my season of Winter. A time to rest. A time to trust. A time to cry. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…” Ecclesiastes 3 (NIV).
However strange it may sound, this Winter season is sharing its place with a Spring season, too. My writing is increasing, my reaching out to others is a gigantically courageous step for me…as community is vital to life…and I’m taking risks I would have never taken in the past. Spring is ripe with opportunities, excitement, and fun. That propels me forward.
Writing is one passion, and my intention is to not only to express my heart but to do so with the hope that my sharing will help others in their own healing.
For we women of distinction, there is no doubt we possess a wealth of experiences, insights, wisdom, and abilities that might bring peace to a broken heart or offer a reflective thought to another…maybe a hug across the miles. Who knows. There is no need to know.
With that, I encourage you to dig deep and share your light with us. We are waiting on tippy-toes for your voice.