I’ve been in prison. No…not the literal type with the metal bars and barbed wire fencing. But, I’ve been in prison nonetheless. Not only have I been in prison, but I’ve been in shackles too. Barely able to move…

My prison has been my home filled with pictures, smells, reminders of my sweet Chris who left me 23 days ago.

My prison has been my closet filled with reminders of the clothes he used to put on each morning.

My prison has been the memories in my mind that continually interrupt my daily thoughts and take over any available cavity and crevice in my brain to render me useless in accomplishing anything else.

My shackles are my dreams of what could have been but now never will be.

My shackles are the unending task lists that are created following the burial of a loved one.

My shackles are my emotions that tend to control me rather than the other way around.

My prison…is my grief.

I feel like I’ve been sentenced to a prison called Grief. It’s a lonely, painful, sad place to be. I don’t know my release date just yet, but it seems like it’s an eternity away.

During my time with Abba this morning, I almost heard His audible whisper…don’t forget Paul and Silas. What Lord? Don’t forget Paul and Silas.

Yes Lord. I know all about Paul and Silas’s time in prison in Acts 16. It just happens to be one of my very favorite stories in all of scripture. And…I read the story again.

“After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully. Upon receiving such orders, he put them in the inner cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken. At once all the prison doors flew open, and everybody’s chains came loose.” ~Acts 16:23-26 NIV

They praised their way out of prison. The greek word for hymn in this passage implies they celebrated God in song.

After being led back to this passage, I fell on my knees…raised my hands in praise to God and asked Him to meet me where I was (as ugly as I might be right now). And, then I began…

to pray to Him

to thank Him

to speak His Word back to Him

to celebrate Him in song

to PRAISE Him!!

And…the shackles started to come undone, and the prison door slightly opened, and He picked me up and carried me out the door.

Monday night was probably the hardest night I’ve had since the first week following Chris’ death. And, interestingly, it followed one of the better days I’ve had in recent weeks.

I started a new job Monday with an organization that I greatly admire. It’s actually a result of years of prayer and fasting…and the journey began this week. Yes, it’s stressful beginning a new job. Yes, it’s even more stressful beginning a new job within weeks of burying my husband. However, this is a position and an organization that I KNOW God has called me to and even more…I’m convinced He called me to it at this EXACT time in my life for purposes not completely known to me just yet. But…I trust Him completely and must obey His lead.

So, after having a wonderful first day at my new job…I couldn’t wait to get home Monday night and tell Chris all about it. Yes, while driving home…I literally thought that for just a brief moment in time! Just as the thought escaped my brain, I caught myself.

What are you thinking Leah? Chris is gone. Pull yourself together.

Almost as quickly as I the thought came to the forefront of my mind…it fled.

I began to think about what it might have been like had he been at home waiting on me (he usually got home from work first). More than likely, he and Anna would be planning a special celebration dinner. He loved to cook and did the majority of it in our home. He probably would have baked my favorite treat for a sugar celebration as well. While eating dinner as a family, I probably would have monopolized the conversation while unloading the events of the day for his and Anna’s listening pleasure. Yes…that’s probably what it might have been like. But instead…

There was no special celebratory dinner.

There was no special dessert treat.

There was no family conversation around the dinner table.

Instead…I went to the cemetery. As a Christian, I know my husband isn’t truly there, but I still can’t help but feel close to him in some special way when I go sit beside his grave. As I got out of the car and walked towards his grave, I looked around and noticed that I was the ONLY one in the cemetery. This is a pretty big cemetery, but at that moment I was completely alone.

I sat down on the grass by my husband’s freshly dug grave. At first…I said nothing. Then, I began to tell Chris (and the grass and silk flowers surrounding me) everything about my day that I had wanted to share with him in person. If somebody had walked up behind me at the moment, they might have thought I was crazy. But, I didn’t care. I shared it all. I had to.

Then, I began to pray…well, I actually began a time of questioning God. It wasn’t pretty blog friends, but it was necessary. Then…it came. The downpour of tears. A flood of tears like nothing I’d cried since the day I found out (three weeks ago today, actually) that my husband was gone. Through my sobs, I managed to say one last thing to God at that moment…

Please Father…please Abba…please let me know you’re here. I know your Word says you’ll never leave me or forsake. I really do know that to be true, but right now…I need to FEEL you. I have no right to ask for this, but I really need to feel your presence, because I’m feeling very alone right now.

As I continued to sit and wait in the stillness of that moment…a soft wind quickly developed and literally passed through my hair and across my skin, and I knew. He was here. Thank you sweet Abba. I felt no other breezes other than this particular one the rest of the time I was there. But, right after the wind swept across my body, God spoke into my heart something that went like this…

Sweet daughter, come to me with your heavy heart and give it completely to me. Cry as many tears as you need to as often as you need to. Ask me anything you want to ask me. I never grow tired and weary of listening to you my child. I love you, and you’re right…I’ll never leave you or forsake you.

So, while sitting alone in the cemetery Monday night…God made His presence vividly known to me. And then…we sat…together.