We planned a sabbatical for January. To restore our souls. To give our hearts time and space to grieve. To sit in the quiet and remember. Ten years ago. The days our lives changed forever.
Today I am writing. Sitting and writing for a good block of time. I’m formulating a plan and then setting into motion a rhythm of writing in my life to actually meet my goal.
I thought this would happen throughout January. Jeff reminded me we have six children. I reminded him they are supposed to be on sabbatical as well. :)
But today, today I have the space to breathe. To write. To dream.
Often times I come up short. I sit down to write and nothing comes out except a grocery list or menu.
My research is my own grief. I must let myself grieve. Go there. In the suffering and sorrow and pain. Where the joy once overwhelmed the sorrow and more of life felt balanced. Unscathed. Unfiltered. Clean. Tidy.
Safe.
So I go there. I close my eyes. I see his face. I hear his voice. I miss him. I allow this for myself. Not to sit in self-pity or wallow in the valley, but to gently remember. Remember the days that felt like a life time ago. The days I felt were stolen from me. I wonder if that version of me would have gone on knowing what I do now? Would I have loved as radically? Would I have given so much of myself? Would I have spent so much time cleaning or worrying or wondering if I would have known?
He’s not the only one I grieve.
I grieve the life I planned for. The one I would have, should have had. The one I thought I deserved. The one I thought HE deserved.
And yet, here we are. Somehow still wandering through. On the outside it may look like we know what we are doing. Like we have grieved well. But the truth is, even in our grief, even in our planned time set aside for sorrow and reflection, life happens. And things don’t go according to plan.
And it’s not safe. Not here anyway, not on this earth.
Life is fleeting and sorrow fills the crevices. Hurt and pain abound.
But there is joy. So much joy. So much peace. So much love. And it’s truly at our fingertips. Because we have to look past this life. This life isn’t what we have to live for.
There’s just so much more. Jesus promises us so much more. And that is what we cling to, the hope of heaven. The promise of redemption. The perfect love of a Savior.
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing
with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing
for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly,
but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creator itself
will be set free from its bondage to corruption
and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.
Romans 8:18-21
So maybe this sabbatical didn’t go as I expected. But the Lord made space for me. I had the time set aside and I was able to be with the suffering and the grieving. I was able to celebrate the joyous celebration of a marriage. I was able to read. I was able to reflect. I was able to grieve. Life is hard. And life is beautiful. Now. And life was beautiful. Then.
There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind - C.S. Lewis
As much as I grieve and wonder what could have been, even the amazing memories and joy-filled life I have is nothing compared to what I have to look forward to. And that will be my focus. Thank you, sabbatical.
