Even there Your hand will lead me. 

Psalm 139:10

And I removed my wedding rings...
Five and a half years, post goodbye, they have remained in place. They’ve been second skin for over four decades. 
I can’t honestly say they won’t find their way back to my left hand, but today I felt removal was the next step. A big scary leap of faith!
 At the beginning of 2019, I committed to cast off that which hinders me from knowing God in the deepest way. Shortly after, He began to challenge me about my identity. Was it found in career, service, parenting, grandparenting...was it found in my marital status? Was I hiding behind a set of rings?  Would allowing Him to strip away all other identity to be solely rooted in Christ be the very place for God to send me out?   
My rings...
My beautiful white gold security blanket...does this really need to be removed? 
My heart whispers, I think so...

Lent and lament collide. After almost six years of striving to survive storm after storm, I have entered into a season of relative calm; my footing does not shift. I’m limp...I’m depleted... I’m grieving on a whole new level. The end of fight or flight creates space to feel again...and it hurts...really, really hurts!
I’m deeply aware I will grieve for the rest of my life and most of that journey will feel lonely. I will not get over deep love, even as its resulting grief will transform me. If I’m most fortunate, others, not offended by the awkwardness of it all, will remain traveling companions when time allows. But my bones know this is mostly solo. 
I don’t formula write on this Monday morning, no hopeful application. 
Just lament. 

Lent 2019

Some years I subtract, some, I add. 
This Lenten season I stay true to my guiding word, cast. 

VITRIOL 

I cast off vitriolic voices, the poison that makes me soul sick. 

That will require a lot of screen silence, now won’t it?

Less poison; more kindness 

I’m not particularly good at lament, but I’m learning that it is a helpful spiritual discipline. Aubrey Sampson suggests all laments lead to the truest form of worship-the worship of God alone. “Not God and blessings, not God and benefits, but God for God’s sake. “ The Louder Song
On this cold March morning, my bones lament.  I can’t tell if it’s the fibromyalgia or sadness again settling in. Perhaps a cocktail of both. 
I wish my heart was frozen, unable to feel absence. I long to be held; my bones cry out for touch. 
How long, oh Lord?
Yesterday, I reached my hand out into the empty space next to me in the pew. I used to do so in the early months of grief and I almost felt the warmth of my mate’s grasp. Not yesterday...just air. 
How long, oh Lord?
I know You carry me until the hairs of my head turn white with age. I just can’t feel your Presence, only ache...deep ache. 
Yet, I trust.