Faith, hope & starry nights.

On a clear night in the middle of summer, it is easy to see the countless flickering lights in the sky, illuminating the darkness of the night. The moon shines in its brilliance, whether in its full glory or showing just a sliver of itself to creation below.

I have spent many nights looking up at that sky, staring in wonder at its beauty, praying that somehow in the vastness of existence I might make something meaningful of my life. I feel my presence in the universe is so small and yet has so much to offer. I hope and pray that the chapter that lies before me would be one that I wouldn’t be afraid to read and look forward to, but rather that I would turn the page with anticipation of what’s to come.

There have been many nights that the sky has not been bathed in light, its magnificence covered by clouds and haze and streetlights. While I have been disappointed that I cannot see the sky in its full radiance, with the moon partially hidden or just a few flickers of stars blinking in the night, I know that its beauty still exists behind the veil. I know that just because I cannot see it fully, that doesn’t mean the splendor of the night isn’t there behind the shadows.

I have come to realize that just as I cannot see all the stars, just as I cannot see the full story that is being written about my life, that doesn’t mean that the next chapter and the path to writing my story don’t exist. If I’m being honest, I have found myself in the same chapter, reading the same page and paragraphs repeatedly, getting stuck in passages and letting them ruminate in my brain. I know where the story is leading and yet I find myself hesitant to turn the page. Because sometimes it feels safer and easier to stay in the same spot in the story because I have memorized what it says. The familiar feels comforting, but I know I cannot experience the fullness of this life if I don’t keep going where I know the story is leading.

Once upon a time I liked change, and I even craved it. But over the years the ease of familiarity has felt safer, and I have longed to stay in this chapter. The chapter of comfort with little risk or trying of new things. Because denying that the rest of the story could possibly become something amazing has felt easier, rather than trusting that the next chapter is where I needed to go. But as I have settled into ease, the more discomfort I’ve felt, and I know it’s time for change. I’ve felt the urge to keep reading the story instead of staying stuck in the familiar.

Little by little I have let myself read ahead. I have let go and stepped out in faith toward new things. Even if that means facing challenges and taking risks in order to find my way. I go back to my anchor and my faith when I need a reminder of what is safe and true, and I continue to do the work of healing, of believing, of trusting in myself and of knowing I am capable and worthy of great things.

Getting over the hump of disbelief or lack of faith in ourselves or God’s plan is what is necessary to keep us going. Learning to trust ourselves and the process is what gives us hope. Letting go of our own doubts and fears and surrendering to trust is what gives us the courage and strength to move forward.

It is in the letting go that we are able to hold on to what is good and true. We let go so we can trust in the vastness of the night before us, even when we can’t see the full picture.

We let go so we can hold on. We hold on so we can trust. We trust so we can become who we are made to be. We are made to be something beautiful and amazing. And that’s why I look forward to what lies ahead. The next chapter is waiting for me and I’m ready for it.

Image by Hans from Pixabay

Joy comes in the morning.

Joy comes in the morning. Even after sorrow, even after the depths of mourning. We are promised that joy is there. God’s presence is there. Hope rises and is within us.

When you’ve been in the depths of grief and survival mode for so long, finding your way out feels unfamiliar. It feels like you can’t quite trust it, and you wonder if you will lose it at the drop of a hat. The thing I’ve come to realize about grief is that yes, even though I feel like I have come a long way, it is not linear. I don’t follow a straight path where I’m walking away from my grief. Where I simply can leave it behind. Grief follows a winding path; it takes you on twists and turns you don’t expect.

It’s been over two years since we’ve lost David, and I still experience him in my everyday life: his faith, his playfulness and his love ingrained in me and how I raise our girls. I see him in them every day, parts of his personality and who he was in their eyes and their smiles. The sadness and the ache and the grief still exist, they just change over time. You no longer feel it in the depths of your being and your bones, but your heart still misses what was and what could have been. I miss David and the life we could have shared together, but I also know that he is with me now even in the little things. I know that he wants a bright future for me and the girls and is watching over us.

Today, I feel hope for the future. Hope for what God has in store for me. There’s a sense of guilt in letting go and choosing joy, like I should stay in the depths of grief and mourning forever. But I know that’s not what Dave would have wanted and I know it’s not what God wants for me, either. He wants me to believe in His promises. He wants to hold me and guide me into his good and beautiful gifts. And I know Dave is watching over all his girls every step of the way.

Earlier this year, God brought someone into my life that allowed me to find hope for happiness again. I knew it was a risk putting myself out there, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I allowed myself to fall, to feel, to let myself be on a relationship journey again. And as hard as it was when things didn’t work out, I know that it needed to be that way. It allowed me to hope, to believe in a bright future, despite everything I’ve been through. God continues to show me that he wants what is good and best for me. And I know that I deserve his gifts, to enjoy this life that he has given me.

Today, I am grateful for so many things. I am grateful for counseling for helping me feel more like myself than I have in a really long time. My heart feels stronger and more secure. I feel a sense of peace in the present. I am grateful for the opportunities of new beginnings. Of the possibilities of what lies ahead. The future is uncertain, but it is also filled with so much love and support from those I care about.

Today, I am grateful for hope. For the gift of life. And the joy in what’s to come.

Image by Katharina N. from Pixabay