the same God

Since Michael passed away, there’ve been some things in my home that have become untenable for me to see every day. Initially, it was the layout of our bedroom which I rearranged during that first week. To see it the way it was when it was ours each time I walked into it or moved around in it began to feel unbelievably heavy. So…I moved the dresser and took his cologne bottles off of it (set them aside for our boys in case any of them want to take them home),  pushed our bed into a corner, created space for a little farmer’s table that I’ve had for years that’s now my desk, moved one lamp out and brought a different one in. I bought new sheets and pillowcases and still want to change the color of the duvet and shams. I’d really love to get a mural for one of the walls – the peel and stick kind that are “renter friendly” but they’re a lot more expensive than you’d think and I don’t actually need one (nor do I have an income right now to support any extras); just looking to change the feel of the space…see something totally different than what my eyes used to land on each time I walked in – our room; the space where we slept next to one another, talked, cried, dressed and undressed, argued from time-to-time, laughed, made love, watched Hallmark Christmas movies and British murder mysteries. A room where Michael began losing weight, informed family and friends of an illness, started taking scheduled pain meds. A room that went from the last time Michael and I shared it to the first time it became mine alone.

Yesterday afternoon, I added another first and last to the list: Michael’s clothes in my closet. On the day of his memorial service, both of our children (from his first marriage) came by and took a few of his things to remember him by, but Jack, Evan, and Daniel have needed more time to prepare their hearts for this sad job, and I totally get that. For me, every time I open the closet doors (which, of course, is every day), it’s just like walking into our bedroom the way it was, and it became time to clear it out. This would have been more difficult for me if the smell of him still clung to his clothes, which it didn’t (I checked). In fact, it’s the smell of the different colognes he wore that’s harder for me to release and so I may hold onto those a bit longer (I also can’t wear the perfume that I did for every date night – Coco, by Chanel). All that to say, it turned from the last day Michael’s clothes hung next to mine to the first day it became filled with mine alone. I was in an absolute funk for the rest of the day. Wore the same pajamas (without ever taking them off) two days in a row, didn’t shower, ate absolute crap food and drank too little water, doom scrolled on IG, watched too much television, knitted. Why I chose to do this thing on my own was bananas. It would have been smarter to have one of my friends with me; praying, telling me about what’s going on in their life, making sure I ate a salad.

You’ve probably heard it said that God will never give you more than you can handle. I’m going to be completely honest and tell you that I’ve often thought this to be absolute bullshit mainly because when I’ve been in those situations that I think I can’t (or don’t want to) handle – and there’ve been many – my response is one of incredulity, “what makes You think that I can handle THIS?” But recently (and by recently, I mean this morning) I heard this very thing in a YouTube video I was listening to but with something else added to it which changed it all for me, “God will not give you more than you can bear, not without giving you Himself to bear it with you.” I mean…EYE.OPENER. Right? Of course, I’m not surprised because…God (who will speak to me any way He sees fit). And honestly, the only way I’ve been able to bear any of this is because God has, continues to, and will bear it with me.  “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever.” ~ John 14:16

The same God who was with me on the days I was abused, on the day Jeff passed away, on the day Michael passed away, on the days I trusted in myself and the world instead of trusting in Him, is the same God who’s still with me. His grace is sufficient and His peace, which surpasses all understanding, still guards my heart and mind. And one day, who can say when, I’ll find myself able to say, “it is well with my soul,” not because everything has been restored or made new, but because Jesus is my anchor. Until then, I’ll continue to hold on to Him when the nights are long and dark, when the questions outweigh the answers, when my pillow is wet with tears, knowing that through it all, He’s been holding onto me the entire time.