Waves….a whole new meaning.
Summertime greetings! How blessed to have our family vacation right at the start of summer break. Typically, we travel in July, but this year we tried something different. Two days after the children finished school…we were outta here! Straight to Encinitas, California. And what else do Zonies do?! Go to the beach in Cali….for my friends who are not from AZ, we are called “Zonies” by the Californians. They probably have a love/hate relationship with us….we get in their way, but we bring mucho dinero to their beach cities. Either way, it is one of our favorite vacations – the beach. This visit, the waves were massive. I go to the beach for the sounds of the waves, the smells of the salty air, the suntan, yes, and of course, the beach hair (my curly hair goes wild with that salty/humid air). Our routine: I relax and read, go in the water here and there. My husband sleeps. The children jump the waves, boogie and wake board, and build humongous sand castle communities. They can be often found in a hole about 4 feet deep in the beach with kids joining their forces. I love this life. I love the beach, the ocean. So many memories made and to be made. God is so present when you vulnerably face those open waters.
With the children playing in the large waves, I do worry, as a momma. One time on this trip my youngest son, Evan, was going out to the water and was pretty far out. He was with his siblings, but I still kept my eye on him. The waves were crashing intensely. I have this vivid picture, still, of his little arm waving at me every two minutes. Totally serious on this….knee high and a hand wave…waist deep, a hand wave…jumping up and down then a hand wave…. a wave crashes over him, a tiny little hand wave…and along with the hand wave was that adorable smile. Although my stomach was tight when a wave crashed over and was hiding him, the incredible peace washed over me when I saw that little hand waving at me.
Well, now I share what a new kind of wave means to me. I really first learned of this type of wave in November of 2013 with the news of my sister Tammy’s crash. A drunk driver had hit her. And as you know, she didn’t make it. Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real when I write that. It stings, burns, aches. It’s maddening. The concept of grief crashing in on people like ocean waves is such a vivid word picture to explain what a person experiences during grief and mourning. The waves of sadness, anger, or any intense and negative emotion comes from nowhere and crashes its cold and strong waters upon you. As you take battle with that wave and cry, scream, attempt to catch a breath, the wave goes back into the open ocean. You can stand up and jump around, frolic in the calm, soothing waters. These are the moments of joy, laughter, and happiness.
What I found was that the huge waves came frequently for the longest time. Daily, hourly. Then, as I pursued grief counseling, support groups, journaling, reading, family and friends support, and God as my guide through it all, the intensity of the pain, the time between waves began to stretch. Time does not do the healing. Time simply passes. We do the healing ourselves, and that is different for each grieving person how they travel the grief path. Early on I wrote, “Later on, the pain and intensity will be less, and I will be stronger emotionally, mentally, physically.” I wrote that down because I heard it in a Grief Share program video. Did I believe it? Not really. I didn’t have the vision to see that this could be me down the road.
What I want you to know is that whatever grief you encounter in your life, it will not take you under and defeat you. It may feel like it. You fight for your life to endure it, to heal. I have never worked so hard on one experience in my whole life. I worked diligently for an Accounting degree at ASU, but this grief work has nothing on that degree. Embracing every moment now is my motto. I still mess up and get upset with my kiddos, or I fall asleep early as my hubby and I watch a movie or read a devotional. I still get stressed over doing too much. But, I also don’t clean my kitchen every night like I used to. I don’t dust the house or clean up with an obsessive attitude. I have lunch with friends more. I smile at people who seem unfriendly or angry. I ponder life more.
Mostly, I am a different person. I travel a different journey than I ever thought would be my life. But, I know that this isn’t the end of the story. A bad chapter as I say many times, but not the end. Tam is so present in my life and in my loved ones. Thank goodness God is so much stronger than us to walk and carry us through such hard times. I still miss my sis like crazy and have such a deep emptiness within me. And I am also intentional to be happy again. My son Evan said to me a few months ago, “Mom you seem the happiest I have ever seen you.” Yes, I think I am, in an odd way. I do the silliest things with my kiddos now. It’s puzzling to me that even in my grief, I have these intense feelings of elation.
A quote by Warren Wiersbe, “It is a remarkable thing that some of the most enthusiastic people you will meet are those who have been through intense suffering.” So true. Thank you, God, for being such a strong tower.
Jeremiah 31:13 wraps this post up: “Then young women will dance and be glad, young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.”
An Ocean of Grief
© Ferna Lary Mills
I cautiously watch the water as it moves along the shore
creeping closer to the sand around my feet.
Beyond the crashing waves, where the water is deepest green
the ocean mirrors the depths of my grief.
My grief is like the ocean, sorrow coming in like waves,
sometimes gentle like a ripple on the sea.
Other times it just engulfs me with crushing waves of sadness
and undertows of despair pull down on me.
Some days I wade out in it, splashing memories with my feet,
recalling days of sunshine on my face.
Stepping through the foamy edges never venturing out so far
that larger waves can threaten their embrace.
Then when I least expect it this freak of nature soaks me
in reality so painful that I fall.
The sorrow and the anger that I’ve fought with day to day
surge through me in a tidal free-for-all.
One day when I’m much stronger and my grief is not so new
I’ll swim just like I used to do before.
I’ll take pleasure in the memories,
and tread water in those places
that we can’t share together anymore.
