{one year ago i received a phone call that forever changed my life. one year later, i am still learning how to live life without a beloved friend who was by my side for so many years,
and who continues to make me a better person because of who she was.

what i write in the following paragraphs is a reflection of the grief-walk of the past year.
 it’s not what i typically write about on my blog, but it’s been part of my life every day, nearly every moment, for the past year. i am so privileged to have been one of many friendships Ruth shared with in this life. 

i wrote this on the day of the one-year anniversary, but it felt too raw to publish just then. a few days and edits later, i feel ready to share it. most of us have either experienced grief of our own in various degrees or walked beside someone who has. my love to each one. ♥}

I walked out the door this morning with lipstick and my nails painted a lovely plum color.
I’ve not always been a big fan of purple nail color, but since October 20, I am.
Ruth wore it and loved it, and now? I do too.
I love anything that is a reminder of her beautiful, inspiring life.

I told my daughters that I was going to spend the day with Jesus, and talk to Him about Ruth.
“It’ll almost be like talking TO Ruth!” said Olivia, “because Ruth is WITH Jesus!”
And even though it doesn’t seem nearly the same to me, I laughed, because it does bring me SO much comfort, knowing that she IS with Jesus, not one single doubt otherwise.

Today is a huge mixture of celebrating her life, and missing her so fiercely.
The ache still hurts worse than open blisters from a new pair of shoes.
The tears still come like a sudden rainstorm in July.
The reality is that there is still so much sadness at the one-year point.

When I woke up this morning, I thought of Ruth immediately,
and of her first “birthday” in Heaven.
Do they have parties for things like that up there?
Because Ruth sure loved a good party, and I sure want her to be celebrated well.
Heaven is so lucky to have her.

One year later, this quote says it so well for me:

“People ask me, “How are you doing?”And I say, “Wonderful.”
One moment I’m sobbing uncontrollably – I carry Kleenex around in my pocket – and the next moment I’m so exhilarated with joy at all that God is doing in my life.”
[Jim Conway]

I went to the ocean today. I sat there for hours, behind oversized sunglasses to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks.

It was a perfect day to be there – a high tide, waves crashing just a few feet away from me.
But I wasn’t there to be in the sun: I was there to be with The Son.
It was just me, my Bible & journal. God was there, so present.

My husband was so kind to understand my need of being alone and quiet on this day.
It’s been a month busier than ever before, and I needed time away on this day,
to remember and reflect.
For me, there is nothing like the ocean to be reminded of how big God is,
and how sufficient He is for me, for everything I need.

There are certain dates & events that are etched upon my memory like engraved stone.
Some happy things: like my engagement, our wedding, the birth of our babies.
And some are etched in tragedy: the death of people I love.
Certain dates in October, in November, in December.
At each of those things I can still remember exactly where I was,
and the incredible shock and pain I felt upon hearing words I never wanted to ever hear.

One year later,

grief is such a long hard road.

It’s so much more than attending a funeral and crying a lot of tears.

It’s the long hard process of learning to live life without someone that was a part of me,
who was such a part of what I knew and experienced in life,
and while learning to do life without them, never forgetting them.

A friend of mine, Hannah Rose, wrote these words about the grief of losing her daughter.
They descibe so perfectly how I feel in remembering my dear friend, Ruth.

There are lots of myths about grief. But, today I want to address something in particular. 

I am not crying all day in my bed every day, lonely and depressed. No, quite the opposite.
I have a passion and purpose to embrace my LIFE and all God has for my LIFE.

Feeling the loss of her has taught me how to love more deeply than I ever did before.
I would never want to be who I was before.
I am stepping into the future, with her always in my heart.

[end quote, emphasis mine]

Walking through grief is so unique to each person.
I figured out I’m a slow griever, and change comes so hard for me.
Some are much faster, where moving on is simply a reality of life because the person isn’t coming back.

Sometimes I’ve felt like this quote:

Grieving is such a vulnerable and sensitive time.
It intensifies feelings, and the one grieving is so susceptible to being hurt, or being loved.
Walking through this year has made me realize how insensitive I’ve been in the past to those who’ve lost someone they’ve loved. Never have I intentionally hurt someone; but I see now, with much sorrow, how I’ve added hurt without even realizing or intending to.

It’s a time when so much mercy, and grace, and forgiveness must be extended:
for the one grieving, and for those walking alongside.
Because of the acute sensitivity a grieving person feels, there is potential for anger or bitterness to form, and that only makes the grief worse.
The grace and forgiveness of God must be applied as liberally as a aloe lotion on a sunburn,
covering every offense and wound.
It must be given as freely as water flowing down rivers,
covering the rugged stones so there is no danger of injury.

Grief is surely an awkward thing. There isn’t a perfect thing to say or do.
There is no handbook to grief; not for those grieving, not for those wanting to help.
There is no map or outline.

I’ve also been the one watching people grieve, knowing they are in pain,
but feeling absolutely helpless to know what to say or do to bring comfort.
Saying things can feel awkward, and not saying anything also feels awkward.

But walking through grief has also been a time when I’ve been
overwhelmed by the power of God through other people.
I’ve seen & felt grace and love extended in huge ways that are mind-blowing,
in ways that can only be explained in terms of Jesus Christ.

I’ve seen beauty in places where anyone would expect darkness and ugly.
I’ve seen & felt Jesus in people like never before.
I’ve seen them extend love and grace in ways that are superhuman ~
only because they go to Jesus in brokenness & emptiness,
and come back filled with Who He is.

I don’t know this girl at all, or even how I came across her writings, but this was written
by someone who also lost a beloved friend.

I want it to hurt when it hurts. To feel numb when it feels numb.
To feel happy when I feel happy.

And I want all of those honest emotions to drive me back into God as deep as I can go,
so He can heal the gaping wound Himself and show me how to walk through the fragments of my broken heart strewn all over the place.

The emotions change. He doesn’t. I want to dig as deep into that as I can.
I want to learn about Him in the ways you can only when He’s carrying you,
crushed and broken.

If the pain is there, why not press into it and find Him in it,
and come out whole on the other side?

After all, that’s what He did when He went to the cross on our behalf on Good Friday.
 He took the horrifically painful cup that was handed to Him by the Father
and drank it to the dregs, knowing that life was waiting for Him at the bottom.

Even if that meant that Friday was excruciating,
and Saturday the world was still shrouded in death.

Sunday was on the other side,
and when He arrived, all was made whole. And it was worth it.
[end quote]

Sorrow and grief have the potential for deep cleansing of the soul.
and pressing hard to Jesus.
It can purge a heart of so much flesh, and so much earthly, temporal focus.
It can reveal how much we’ve been living for ourselves,
or how much our Life is truly Jesus Christ.

My own heart has gone so much deeper this year.
In many ways I feel so different from the person I was one year ago.
I would never wish to go through such sorrow and agony, but if it was given to me,
then I don’t want it to be lost and worthless.
And I don’t want Ruth’s life and beautiful legacy to be forgotten.

The only way to go on has been to cast myself upon Jesus.
To grab hold of him with both hands and all my strength and not let go,
in brokenness and desperation and neediness like never before.
And to stay there, holding onto Him with everything I am.

Because, truly, He alone is the souce of Life.
He can use the agony and loss to bring us to a place where we just want JESUS,
more than anything else in the world.
More than healing for my broken heart,
more than I wanted life to be happy and okay and pain-free,
more than anything I wanted circumstantially.

In grieving, we can either turn in anger from God,
because He allowed this pain, this injustice, this affliction, didn’t He?
And He could have prevented it.

Or, we can run to Him as the God of all comfort,
the One who tenderly cares,
the One who weeps over the effects of sin in a broken world,
as the One who is everything I need.

My outlook on my time on earth has shifted dramatically.
At 20 I was a relatively naive girl who looked starry-eyed into the future,
expecting sunsets and rainbows and castles in the sky.
I thought even if hard times come, eventually it would all be okay
and life would be beautiful again.

Now, ten years later, I feel like an old soul. :)
I feel like I’ve aged decades in the last year especially, and you know what?
I still love to see beauty in life,
to notice beautiful autumn days and pretty pumpkins
and enjoy biscotti and kiss my children even with their terrible morning breath
and celebrate my friendships:
it’s all a little glimpse off how He originally created life to be (without the bad breath).
I love to worship Him in that beauty.

But now I also know that there are things that won’t ever be “okay” again –
that the “perfect ending” won’t even come in this life.
That each day I have with the people I love is truly a gift,
and I never know when my lease on time will be over,
or when someone else’s will be over.
And in that instant the lease expires, life forever changes.

And I also realize like never before,
that JESUS is the ultimate prize.
Not just in Heaven, but NOW.
Knowing more of Jesus, becoming more like Him,
being transformed into His image sometimes through suffering,
this is all that really matters.
JESUS.

[precious words of Jesus about his death, and eternal life, from John 16:20,22
and that could also be seen as words from those who have gone to Heaven before us]

“I tell you the truth, you will mourn and weep over what will happen to me;you will grieve, but your grief will be turned to wonderful joy!…So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and then you will rejoice,and no one can rob you of your joy!”

These things serve to remind me that I am not made for this world, not really.
They are daily reminders that this is just one short little stop until I get HOME,
and HOME is where everything will finally be okay.
Where the perfect, the happily-ever-after will be reality.
That is where Christ will be the completion and perfection of all I long for.
HOME is where I’ll be reunited with the ones I love,
and there won’t even be a question of how much time we have together.
And that Jesus is LIFE, and He is enough.

And I think this is Ruth’s experience. I can’t wait to join her!

I miss my friend Ruth so much. I miss her every single day, and so do many others.
I will always miss her, and love her.
Her legacy lives on, and continues to inspire others to live fully, as Dawn wrote so beautifully.

But I pray this grief is redeeming.
That I would live with a heart more fully alive than ever before.
That I would forgive more deeply, and love more freely.
That I would savor little things,
and delight in simple gifts.
That Jesus would live in me like never before.