108 days…108 days, three and a half months ago, my life changed forever.  I thought I would be further along by now.  I’m not quite sure why? And what does “further along” even look like?  I’m not sure of that either.

However, I do know what it does look like. I still cry everyday.  Usually, multiple times.  Sometimes it’s bawling and groaning, because there are no words.  Sometimes the sobs catch in my throat and force their way out as silent tears that roll down my cheeks.  And sometimes, there are smiles and moments of peace.  But overall, it’s still hard to breathe, and I fight for joy everyday, as I struggle to live out my new normal. I’m in survival mode, not yet able to see the beauty that can come from such devastation, but holding onto the hope that it is there!

As I was lying on the couch this morning, thinking about these things and wondering if I should be “further along” than I am, I noticed the huge tapestry that hangs over our couch.  I realized from my angle, and because I was so close to it, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. I only knew what it was, because I had seen it from a different perspective, and from a distance.  When I was too close to it, all I could see were muted colors and single fragments of thread woven together with no rhyme or reason to them. It was hard to focus, it was blurry, and I could not tell what was happening in the picture. But as I stepped back from the tapestry I could see a chateau here, a tree there, a road in the distance.  If I stepped even further back the entire scene came into view and I could see everything with clarity.  Up close, the tapestry was messy and made no sense. From a distance, I could see the “big picture” and all the artist wanted me to see. I could appreciate it’s beauty from a distance.

Will the tragedy of losing Grant be like that tapestry? Is it still too close to see the goodness and beauty that can come from these ashes? From a distance, months from now, will I be able to see the blessings that come from these dark days, the healing that comes from my tears, the reason for a thousand sleepless nights? From a distance, years from now, will I see God turning evil into good, dark into light, suffering into strong faith, turmoil into peace, weakness into glory, questions into trust?

Taking it even a step further, from Heaven’s perspective, this will look even more different than it does now, than it will months from now, than it will years from now.  From Heaven’s perspective, I believe it will make sense, I believe I will see it as God sees it, and I believe I will see the beauty in the ashes. Here on Earth, on this side of Heaven, I can only see part of the picture.  I cannot see everything God is doing, painting, working together for His purposes. However, from an eternal perspective, I will see the “big picture” and things will come into focus. It’s going to be a very long journey of stepping back, looking back from a distance. A journey that will not end until I get to Heaven.  But I do believe, from Heaven’s vantage point, I will look back from that distance and see the beauty of God’s work…it’s what keeps me going and gets me out of bed everyday!

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4 Responses to 108

  1. Nancy says:

    So true…your tapestry illustration…everything you said….the view from this side of heaven seems so cloudy and we wonder if it will ever be clear. I struggled for a long time trying to make sense of our daughter’s suffering and death, looking for a reason, trusting God in the process, but not without my questions and doubts and anguish. I have no answers.. (oh how I know those groans you speak of that come from somewhere deep inside)

    108 days is not very long. It is a heavy and sadly, long process. You will get to a place of peace, truly, you will. I have resolved that one day I will not only understand God’s plan in it all, but I will agree with it. Agree? is that possible??? I declare this to myself outloud knowing it is true because God loves me, loves Brooke, loves my family, and always does what is right and good….I will only know the depth of that truth on heaven’s side.

    praying for you as I write for our gentle Holy Spirit’s peace and comfort to surround you as you walk further along in your grief,

    • Alisa says:

      Oh Nancy, it’s so hard to hear that I have SO far to go on this journey. There are days it feels like I cant do this for even one more day. To think of this journey in terms of years, seems insurmountable! And yet it’s comforting in a strange way knowing I am not alone. I am not crazy. Folks that have gone before me on this journey of suffering, do give me hope. They give it to me straight…help me to hang on for the long haul. I know I will never get over it, but by God’s grace, someday I will get thru it. Folks like you show me that and it brings comfort and hope for tomorrow. Hugs.

  2. Kim McInturff says:

    Alisa, I can’t fathom the pain you feel every day, but as I was reading your posts I thought of a blog written by a man who is a Bible teacher at a Christian school and who lost his wife in March of 2010 in a car accident. He wrote almost every day for over a year about how he was feeling much like you are. I found the blog address and thought it might be encouraging to you and your family. http://gregtonkinson.blogspot.com/ I’m praying for you often and asking Jesus to meet your every need!

    • Alisa says:

      Thank you for this. I started reading it last night and I know that I will finish it. It is helpful to read the journalings and musings of others that have walked this road ahead of me.

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