I’m now 10 weeks in…10 weeks of discovering this new thing (to me)…grief. I can attest quite frankly…IT STINKS! So far, there has been nothing beautiful, nothing magical, nothing glorifying about this process…it simply stinks.

Now, while being a “Negative Nancy”, I’m also totally convinced that something beautiful and God-glorifying will come out of this. Because, I KNOW “that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28) Well, boy do I love Him, and I’m blessed to be called according to His purpose (even though I’m still trying to figure out exactly what that might be).

However, in the meantime…grieving stinks.

Today, I turned another page. I began professional counseling. I know…I know…some of you might be thinking…just now? Yep – the thought crossed my mind too. However, I honestly thought I could “handle” things with my own little therapy concoction, and it simply wasn’t enough. I needed more help.

I knew that my therapy session would be nothing short of difficult, but that was an understatement. It was raw. It was real. It was what I needed. But…it stunk! Thankfully, God led me to somebody very experienced in grief counseling, and he knew just how to get to those places that others quite can’t reach, including me. And…it hurt.

Friends, I also think I’m just beginning to go down some of the dark roads of grief. Unfortunately, there is no simple formula in this process. Everybody experiences it differently, and I’ve heard the ocean analogy several times now, which makes the most sense to me. Sometimes, I’m out there just relaxing in the waves…softly floating up and down, and then out of nowhere…a wave comes crashing in over my head. I’ll come back, catch my breath…start the gentle float again…then comes another one. So true. So true. My experience with grief exactly so far!

And now, here I am about a week away from my beloved She Speaks conference in Concord, NC. This precious time spent with my sister speakers, writers, and ministry leaders. A time for refreshment, renewal, education, fun, fellowship, and worship. I’m supposed to be speaking again this year in another evaluation group. I have nothing on paper. I have just limited thoughts on what I’m to speak on. I have fears of falling apart. And, all I want to do is experience the love of Christ all over me that weekend, like I did last year. But, I’m afraid this grief “thing” might get in the way of a beautiful weekend. And that would most definitely…stink!

Oh…what a weekend!

This post can’t begin to capture the emotion of it all.

Friday night, I left my house at 9:00 pm with my sister-in-law, Shawna, who came to visit with my brother and their son. We were en route to the beach, because Shawna has never seen the ocean – except in books or on movies. She grew up in Kansas (and still lives there), and growing up in a family with 5 other siblings never afforded them the opportunity to take many vacations, let alone vacations to either coast half-way across the United States. Well, I knew I had to do something about that. Even if only for a few hours.

The spontaneous, adventure-seeking sister-in-law that I am, asked her if she’d like to make the 5 hour trek to see it – in person (and hopefully catch a sunrise too). She was all too quick to say…YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, a few stops and 6 hours later – we arrived in Myrtle Beach, SC (a little ahead of sunrise). We piddled around for a couple of hours and then finally made our way down to the ocean at the break of day. The sun didn’t perform a brilliant show for us this, as it was blanketed by a thick veil of clouds. But, the sea…the glorious sea…still showed off the majesty and splendor of Creator God! And…Shawna was amazed…

For me, the trip was bittersweet. To see the joy on my sister-in-law’s face was priceless. But, the last time I went to this exact same spot was in April…with my sweet Chris! Oh…how I miss him so. The beach was a haven for us, and we both planned to live by the sea one day, Lord willing.

I needed to try and rest for a few minutes since we were going to turn around and head back by noon to pick up my daughter at the airport. I placed my towel atop the sand, got down on my stomach, and with the sun just starting to poke through and warm my back…all I could do was cry…salty, sandy tears. Today also was another monthly anniversary. It was another 9th (this time our 35th month of marriage). It was another day that I would normally walk home to later find the flowers my husband brought me to celebrate…those individual monthly anniversaries. More salty, sandy tears. And…the sleep? Maybe 10 minutes. Too many thoughts going through my mind to rest my brain.

Fast forward to today…Sunday. I had asked a couple of friends from church if they would do something very special, yet difficult, for me. Would they please take me to the location where my husband took his own life? Yes. I wanted to see it. I had to see it. There were so many there that day, but not me. I was waiting at the house in case he came home or other news reached us there. But, I was not out with the search team. I was not there to see the truck parked or the pitched tent that contained his broken body. And, I knew I had to. I had to go there and see it for myself. The visual person that I am needed to see everything in order to progress in this healing journey.

So, this afternoon, we went. I am forever grateful to these precious saints for giving me a couple hours of their Sunday afternoon to drive me deep into the woods to see this…

The place his trucked was parked that fateful day…

The place where the tent was pitched that contained my husband’s body…

The place where he hung the key to his truck…

And…as difficult as it was. It helped me to go there and see everything for myself.

So, later this evening. I went to the cemetery to “talk” to him about it.

And, I’ve been talking to Him (to Abba) about it the rest of the evening. “I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy.” Psalm 116:1