Tuesday, May 3, 2022

A Grave and a Race

It's been a terrific day so far. I graded quizzes, then went into town for a B12 shot, then got in a run. I also visited Becky's grave. 

After all, this Sunday is Mother's Day and next Thursday is her Birthday. Grief is such a funny thing. I think you can identify with what I'm about to say because you're probably somewhere on the path of grief yourself. Too many in our culture get grief wrong. "Get over it as soon as you can." (What? You never get over it.) "Isn't it time you moved on with life?" (Yes and no. I never want to forget Becky and what she meant to me and to so many others. But yes, I do want to engage in life to its fullest.) Special occasions are the worst. You know the tsunami is coming, but there is nothing in the world you can do to stop it. You are not surprised when it hits with full force. You are EXPECTING it, just as you know that things will quickly become normal again as the tidal wave recedes (as it always does). 

It's easy to allow yourself to be pressured into pleasing others on these special days. Instead, I let my family know that I will feel and be different. So what if you're a tangled ball of emotions. Feelings aren't things to be hidden away. It's alright to be emotionally fragile. This is the way of grief. Accept it. God is acquainted with your grief and he's not in any hurry to rush you through your sadness. The key is to know what to move toward and what to move away from during your journey. The Bible says, "Be still and know that I am God." It doesn't say, "Be still and know why." And I'm good with that. 

All day today I've been following the live stream of the Cocodona 250 mile race in Arizona. About 230 runners started the race yesterday. 

Already several have DNF-ed. I try to imagine what it would be like to run 250 miles in the Arizona desert and mountains. I'm constantly amazed at what the human body is capable of. I realize that this is why I run. Those hours spent on the trails in the fresh air make me feel alive. I wish more than anything that Becky could see and feel what I am feeling at age 69. That she can't won't keep me from running, full of gratitude for such an amazing experience. 

I'd certainly appreciate your prayers for the next week or so as I negotiate the stormy waters of grief. These feelings will pass. They are normal responses to what I've experienced. But that doesn't make them any less challenging. Death is no stranger to us humans, and the closer someone is to you the greater the impact. Wherever we are today on the road of grief, let's remember that the Lord is walking it with us.

Thank you.