Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey
towards it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. Samuel
Smiles
I found myself that summer, and I discovered a strength
I didn’t know I possessed. Life still
wasn’t easy. Besides grieving Carmon’s
death, I was also grieving many other things: loss of help financially; loss of
parenting support; loss of marital status and the stigma of being a single mom
(yes, there is one); loss of future dreams and plans that had involved Carm;
loss of someone to grow old with.
But as I turned away from the past,
from the “why me?” and the “what if?” and the “if only,” I began to tentatively look toward the future. I noticed
an interesting phenomenon. When you put
the past behind you, you can see tomorrow more clearly. It’s awfully hard to see where you are going
if you are constantly looking over your shoulder. Yesterday is a nice place to visit in memory
on occasion, but I don’t want to live there.
One thing I should note: moving forward doesn’t mean no more
challenges and no more grief. It means
new challenges and, yes, sometimes new grief for new losses. My dad was fond
of quoting Paul’s letter to the Philippians to me, with his finger pointing at
my nose: “This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and
reaching forth unto those things which are before . . .” (Philippians 3:13.) I used
to feel so angry when he did that! He thought my particular stress at any given
moment was undone grief for Carmon’s death – looking backwards, as it were. What he failed to take into account was that
there were many other stresses involved with being a single mother raising
three children alone, with tight budgets, time constraints, and loneliness. Those
were all in the here-and-now and each brought a stress and a grief of its own.
I slowly learned that I had to
constantly press forward towards light, even in those dark times when I couldn’t
see it. I remember one particularly dark
time when I actually told God in prayer that I would continue to live by His
precepts and example, even though I was emotionally drowning at the time. I couldn’t always feel God’s presence, but I
knew He was near, and I didn’t want to do anything I would later come to
regret. It was a watershed moment and a
wise choice. The more I moved toward His
light, the more the shadows of my grief passed behind me.
Picture of woman facing the sun from www.owningpink.com
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