Monday, January 19

The Cloud has Lifted

It’s a strange thing, living with a “dark cloud” hovering so closely that you constantly feel like your head is in the midst of it. It feels tangible – the “cloud” and at times you can’t remember when life was without it. The cloud, the DARK cloud has become your close companion. The cloud, along with the elephant that seems to have parked on your chest. A feeling of something heavy, a sense of oppression. Hand in hand, between the two, making life feel hard, and heavy, and dark. I have lived with the cloud – in fact, after weeks and months, it just became something that was there when I awoke, and there when I fell asleep. That was one good thing about nighttime, after finally settling down for the count, the cloud and elephant would be oblivious as long as I was asleep.

It felt like the cloud was hanging lower, and heavier with each passing day. I knew that it would only be days until I was on leave. I just hoped I could hang in there. Really, there was no other option as far as I was concerned. The grief was becoming more and more intense as the days went on... the cloud heavier.... and I knew that I had to step out of the hustle and bustle of life, and ministry, and sit with the grief that came when our little grandson was born silently.
God gives me "pictures" .... He gives them alot actually.... and I realized that the picture He had given me was of a closet door that was open, with stuff spillingn out and piling up... I had been stuffing the grief back over and over again, as I needed to be able to deal with those who needed me to be pastor to them...
but there was no more stuffing it back.

Then it happened. On Saturday, January 10th to be exact, I realized that the heavy dark cloud had lifted. In fact, I mentioned it to Alvin. I had no clue if it had lifted for an hour, a day, a week, or forever. All I knew is that it was gone.
It was so incredibly tangible. It was with this sense that I was able to go to church the next day, and to celebrate ministry workers, to pray with others, and to take part in the communion service. While the cloud lifted, I was fully aware that the overflowing closet of my being was still there... overflowing all over the place. And, I would need to begin to work through all that. But in the meantime, I just revelled in the fact that I was cloud free, and loving it.

Amd here I am, just over a week later. The cloud is still gone. I was asked what made the cloud disappear, to which I replied that I don't know other than it was God, and the prayers of those friends who know me well, and pray(ed) for me.
While it is gone, some things still remain - like the incredible grief that I have begun to "sit with". It is hard. It is a combination of "wanting to yell and scream and throw things" mixed with a feeling of knowing that I need to (emotionally) "go back to the hospital room when I was holding our little Jay - and begin to sit with, and work through the grief". It is this part that I am most afraid of - as I don't know if the tears will stop once they start. The cloud is gone, and I feel like I can see a little better now. And I know that what I see will be so raw and painful. Never the less, I am asking God for the strength to go back there, and to work through this incredible grief. And it is my prayer that as day turns to the next, and the weeks go on - that I will emerge on the other side, whole and healing.

So, anyhow, I thank God for lifting the cloud. I thank God that I recognize this. I thank God that he does care about me. I wait to experience more of him in my life. I long to hear him. I long to be held by the arms of the Almighty.

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