The Unspoken

I was sitting in my counselor’s office and describing the frustrating feeling of being lost in this world, not feeling like myself anymore, not knowing how to begin most days.  I was explaining to him that the Jennifer I relied on before doesn’t seem to exist anymore.  The Jennifer that handled business, loved being everyone’s cheerleader, loved a challenge, was constantly creating, laughing and singing…the Jennifer that worked hard, that knew how to parent (or at least tried!), that wanted to be fit and sometimes even ate healthy and worked out, the Jennifer who was articulate and could debate and argue with the best of them, she is lost.  This new Jennifer is tired, doesn’t feel motivated or energized, has no self confidence, feels anxious about lots of things, fumbles around for words, and though it’s hard to imagine, is even more disorganized than before.  It's like PTSD. For me, it is as though someone exchanged my 100 watt bulb for a 15 watt bulb and it’s just not getting the job done!  So, as I was explaining to him that I lose my train of thought and can’t even complete a sentence, I said, “my brain is just too busy processing the unspoken.”   To which he replied, “The Unspoken….that sounds like a blog post.”  And there you have my very long intro to this:

My thoughts are so scattered, but there is indeed so much unspoken that I need to get OUT.  It has been 7 months and 4 days.  It’s interesting…as I write that, I realize that all time frames for me have now become relative to April 11, 2017.  Any significant or even mundane event is thought of in terms of how long before or how soon after that dreadful day.  I am having a harder time these past few days.  Though the tears have never left, not even for one day, they now seem to be constantly hiding just beneath the surface and pressing their way out.  It’s no surprise that music most often brings tears, but sometimes it’s the strangest things that take me by surprise.  For example: walking into Stein Mart and seeing the men’s department, or rummaging through an old cosmetic bag and finding one of Jon’s razors, or driving past the HEB where we used to have coffee after our morning walks, and about a million other things I can’t think of right now….tears.  He is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  Memories are everywhere, but I don't want memories...I want him.  I didn’t believe it was possible, but I feel his absence even stronger than before.  I’ve been told it will get worse before it gets better.  God help me, if that is true.  This month, the biggest change is that I’m almost physically unable to sit and look at pictures of our happy life together.  Seeing his face literally takes my breath away and I feel a heaviness and anxiety that is too much to bear.  This makes me sad because I WANT TO sit and look at his pictures and pour over his journals and remember everything about him, but suddenly it brings more sorrow than joy, so I must avoid them for the moment.  I do have one book that I faithfully read every morning, and I’ve probably memorized every note he wrote….for now that is enough. Any more than that and I come undone.  Sometimes I stand back and look at this life and it resembles a barren wasteland, the gloomy, blackened landscape of a forest fire. Where there once were tall green trees, beautiful foliage and the cheerful sounds of birds and squirrels all around, now silence, ashes and jagged remnants of the life it once held.  

Would you like to hear the good news?  These times lately have lead to lots of sleepless and restless nights where I end up on the couch reading, crying and praying. (Wait…that wasn’t the good news, but it’s coming.)   Each and every time, God has been faithful to bring a word, to comfort me, to hold me and even lovingly convict me of things I need to surrender, areas of my life where I need to extend more grace to others and to myself.  And I realize that, on this journey, as I process or don’t process (more often than not) the “unspoken,” I am not doing it alone.  Romans 8:26 says that the Spirit himself expresses for us the unutterable.  He literally searches our heart, not to know our conscious prayers, but to know the prayers of His Spirit within our hearts.  So, when I don’t have the words, He does, and I can breathe deep and rest in His ability to carry me.  This is what happens after the forest fire.  While we look around and see nothing but death and destruction, while we see charred remains damaged beyond repair, the Spirit is going under ground, foraging for new life, pulling things out of the dark recesses.  Beneath the crackling ashes, there is healing taking place, of which we are not even consciously aware.  As I groan and ache and cry, He is carefully taking those ashes and jagged remnants before the throne of the Creator for me, the one who first created something from nothing.  He is breathing the breath of life into the ashen ground on which I stand, and the soil of my soul is being purified.  Then, as I begin to look around, I realize it is not entirely black anymore.  A little sprig of greenery has bravely pulled itself up from the charred ground, announcing life to the world again.  

So the good news is, I am not doing this alone, or by my own strength or power.  My circumstances and my feelings are no challenge for the Almighty.  Even though I see dimly as through a fog, He lights the way, holding my hand, taking each step with complete confidence. Daily, I am being challenged to recall these truths in faith.  Though I am shattered, I am a new creation in Christ Jesus.  Though I am beaten, I am victorious by His blood.  Though I am broken, I am made whole in Him.  Though I am weak, I have the same power that raised Christ from the dead living in me!!!  When I feel lost, He is not.  When I feel uncertain or unconfident, He is not.  When I feel anxious about the future, He does not even flinch.  When I feel weary, He is at His strongest.  My love is deeper and my faith is stronger ... new life.

Only a loving God could take me in my most vulnerable, broken and crushed state and use it to help me know more of his mercy and more of his presence.  I pray constantly that he would show me some purpose in this pain, that He would use it for His glory.  I pray that in the blackest night, His glory would shine like the noonday sun and that He will use me as He wills.    As with forest fires, often what grows back does not resemble what was lost, but is even more lush and beautiful and teeming with life than before.  This is what I pray to be true in my life.  I am grateful that He continues to bear the unspoken and unutterable.  I pray we will ALL be more aware of the ways He is carrying us.  And if you should find yourself feeling lost, lonely, and without words to express your pain, you are not alone.  Lean into Jesus.  From one broken person to another, I can assure you that he is trustworthy and will not let you fall.  Take a deep breath, close your eyes and let him into every space of your heart.  He has more grace than you can imagine.  He will cleanse every sin and heal every hurt….even the unspoken.

This post is dedicated to my friend, Brandon Thomas.  I had the great privilege of sharing food and fellowship, tears and hugs with him recently.  We both have been through the fire and are on our knees in heaps of ashes waiting for the new life to emerge.  We both see glimpses of rebirth and beauty on the horizon.  I give him full credit for the forest fire analogy.  :-)