I recalled all of the memories we'd made in that home. All of the seasons of life. Little boys and legos, Christmases, birthdays, game nights, tears and bandages, bike rides, play fights, bringing Brielle home, neighbors, street ball, and even the growing pains. We'd moved in when they were five and two and had lived there over sixteen years.
It wasn't the home or neighborhood I grieved (though I did love them both).
I knew they were just places.
It was the season of life I grieved. It was over. We'd raised our boys. They'd both moved out in the past year. We'd had eighteen full years with each of them. And it had come to a close.
I knew all of the things:
- they were supposed to launch
- there's a new season on the horizon
- at least we still have Brielle at home
Let me say this - I knew I needed to grieve. I don't know how I knew, but I did. It was important in the process of my moving on. I did not get stuck there. But I did allow myself to FEEL it.
And for someone who feels deeply (and was once very skilled at escaping anything that hinted of unpleasant) this was a scary place to be.
So, I asked God to help me process and walk through it - believing there was another side that brought me out, through faith, to a new viewpoint. And He did. He said, "Mourn Beloved. You loved them deeply, dearly, and sacrificed for their lives. You will move on to the other side and love them still."
And He showed me that He loved them so much more than I did. He gently taught me to trust them into His care in a newer and deeper way.
I felt alone in my thoughts and feelings, so I didn't share them much. But God held me right through it all. I'm so glad I learned this about grieving then.
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