Quiet waters

Psalm 23:2
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.

What will it take to get me to lie down (he will make me if I don't do it)? Why can't I follow to the quiet waters? For it is there where He will restore my soul.

This morning I realized how this frenetic pace of work and being a single mother to two needy children is hard to stop. I'm on my own this week. It's the first time I've been on my own like this for an extended time, and it's actually okay. But I'm keeping busy.

Tomorrow is my husband's interment. That is, I'm burying the ashes that remain of his mortal body. I know it is just dust and that he is in the Presence of the Lord. However, it will be a physical representation of him. It will be a tangible proof that he was real, not just a dream. And, for my daughters, it will be truth that they had a dad - even for such a short time.

God will restore my soul, even as it feels more and more ravaged.

He will not fail me.

God stops me, takes me by the hand and tells me that, despite all the negative horror stories I am reading in the books about suicide grief and the helpful people who talk about my husband's state of mind (that he concealed from me for months, even years, before he acted on his fantasy of death).

God tells me that there is a reason why I must listen to Him. The voices of earth are not helpful all the time. They know as much as I do. I need the insight of Heaven. I need the Truth because it will set me free.

And I am truly grateful that God can break through into my brain when it's distracted, full and buzzing in every direction. There is always so much static in there. It's like I have the fan on all the time for white noise.

Quiet could be restful and restorative. Or it could be scary, lonely and gaping open. I could start crying and not know how to stop. But God would hold me up.

And this is the type of thing that happens inside of me. Am I crazy? No, but grieving. Traumatized. Temporarily hopeless, yet knowing there is still hope. At least that's what it says at the top of the page.

God will make me lie down. Can't you just see the image? I'm in the middle of some Busy Work, and a large hand comes out of the sky and pushes me down like you do with a dog that won't get out of your face.

Tomorrow I put my husband's earthly remains in the ground and I place a marker stone, like an Ebenezer. It will say that this man lived, loved and was loved. But he died.

And now he is present with the Lord, waiting for me to come. Wouldn't it be wonderful if tomorrow I woke up there, in the glory of heaven? But truly, I suspect I will wake up in my own huge, empty bed. And I'll get up, get dressed and go to my favourite place on earth to bury the dearest man in my life and achieve another milestone in this long long journey of mourning.