The trouble.

It's no secret to those that know us well that we are fresh in the middle of wild heartache.

Just 2 weeks ago tomorrow we received a call that my husband's younger brother, Trevor was tragically killed in an accident. We spent a week and a half with our family and friends a few states away. And now the return to life as we knew it before is proving to be harder than we had imagined. As I toss the details around in my brain I am overwhelmed with sadness. These are the moments when our faith is made tangible. These are the moments when our hope is real. Just days before we were saying "Trevor is" and in the last weeks we shifted those same conversations and endearing remarks to "Trevor was."

There aren't really words to describe how that hurts, the reality shift. There aren't really words for all of the emotions that you go through when you are grieving the sudden empty spot. It is an emptiness that we grieve. We do not grieve Trevor's new found freedom. We don't mourn his new skin or new song. We rejoice in that part. That is our hope and the most redemptive thing in all of this. Jesus redeems. But every single one of us that loved him would be lying if we even attempted to pretend that we were not broken to the core over missing him.

I am writing this simply to record an account of where my heart is today. I know that tomorrow will be different. What my weary heart wants to do is curl up and weep. I want to give in to the ache and just be left alone. I told a friend that today. I told her that I didn't feel like creating, that I didn't feel like sewing or painting or writing. I didn't feel like doing anything. And her response was two fold.

First she said this.
"I think your sadness encourages you to keep away from one form of worship that sets you free. Kill that."
Whoa. The words sort of crushed my heart and lifted my spirit at the same time- painful truth.

And then she sent me Psalm 42.

Psalm 42:5-8 MSG
"Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God— soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God. When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you, From Jordan depths to Hermon heights, including Mount Mizar. Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids. Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers crash and crush me. Then God promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer."

When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of You. These words snapped me back into reality. The trouble with grief is the way it blinds, the way it sneaks up and pulls the wool over our eyes. Without warning my line of sight got a little foggy (or a lot.) Not only was I squinting to appreciate today, but I started having to search for the goodness of God in yesterday too. How does that even happen?? Because I stopped rehearsing the things I know about my DAD.

We have an enemy that comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He seeks to steal my joy, kill my creativity, and destroy my testimony. He wants me to stay swallowed up in sadness and nudges me away from the very things that bring freedom- my worship. Worship is more than songs. It is every part of me that glorifies Jesus. I will be found worshipping with all of me, and not reserving any of it. In doing that, God is so faithful to give me a new song.

The trouble with grief is that when left unchecked it sucks the life right out of us. I want to live, and I want to live loudly. So, i am dusting off the ol' sewing machine today and diving back into writing. There is healing in it.

Happy Tuesday, friends.