This may seem small to you, but today I hit 20k words on a project I've been working on for a year. One year ago I said I would write 500 words a day. I haven't quite met that goal since I pushed pause on everything when life shifted and grief went deep from August - January. But I feel as though I have resurfaced a bit and I'm working towards that 500 a day again. I hope it doesn’t take another year to get to 40k, but then again, writing isn’t my first love, although it ranks pretty high. Writing is an overflow of the life I love. Thank you for reading it, championing it and loving it with me.
To celebrate 20,000 words, I wanted to share a piece of it. Here's to the next book, whatever it may be called, on grief and life and remembering. This is the remnant. What remains. Life after loss.
"Whom shall I fear?
Death. I fear death. And small things leading into big things and leading to death and loss and pain and suffering. I fear messing up or over looking something. I fear failing my children. Because maybe sometimes I feel like I have already failed them.
All these thoughts are there, within me. They aren’t just coming to me when I’m in a low or bad place. These lies are what the Enemy tries to feed me all the time. Each time my child gets sick or hurt. Each time I mess up. Each time I over look or over step or forget God.
I know that the Bible tells me not to fear or worry. I’m supposed to cast my anxiety on him. Throw it away. Lay it down at the cross. Give it up and not give in. I know the Enemy works hard to get inside my thoughts. I know the lies. I also know how much I need God. And sometimes in my desperation, it's just so easy to believe the lies. The lies of me being in control or needing control or God not having enough time for me and my piddly worries. The lies of worry and fear itself. If I can ’t trust God with these small things, how will I ever trust him with the big ones? And there I go again. Even my faith is not on me. Grace, it’s a gift not earned. Forgiveness? Reach out and grab it. Sometimes my head and my heart just don’t make the connection. Feelings take over and lies creep in and here I go again.
The intensity of a situation can go from 0-100 with no warning. Take today for example. My youngest son has thrush. And I panicked. All the worst case scenarios swarmed my head. There is no filter. It just snowballs into every single bad thing that I could ever imagine. I don’t even have to google things to get this far into extreme anxiety. A panic attack is looming, threatening to bubble up out of my normally calm and controlled thought life. This is grief.
Why is thrush the trigger? It’s just the one today. I need to hear Jeff’s voice. So I call him and start to spill my words, tears pooling. I have to give up sugar. I will strictly follow the doctor’s instructions. We have to get this under control…panic mode.
My kids see it in my face. They will go into panic mode, too. Helping and doing and comforting each other.
Jeff gently says to me how sorry he is and he promises to help deal with it but he is on a roof right now and the wind is picking up. Oh yeah, he has to deal with that. He says he loves me and he’ll call me soon.
I hang up and immediately go into action. I have a plan. I take a breath. I sink. Again, I’ve succumbed to fear and panic. Again, I have forgotten. I turned to my husband before God. I turned to fear before God. I turned to panic before God. I turned to myself before God. I tried to take control. I hold on tight. Too tightly. If I were grasping something my knuckles would be white and my knees would be locked and I would have passed out by now. Because I refused to breath. To stop. To remember.
Remember what the Lord has done. Remember his promises. Remember his strength for me when I am weak. Which is so often."