When grief tries to steal, don't believe it.

F A M I L Y

Hold them tight, cherish the moments, because you just never know.

This photo is missing a key player from it. The one that stood at the helm to navigate our course and he was the one who knew where to drop the anchor that steadied us in a safe harbor.

Honestly, he was my grounding person. I am the dreamer, the planner, the visionary, the creative force, the spontaneous let's go girl. And he was my, (what I often called), dream squasher. Haha. He brought all the practical into any situation that presented itself. "Okay Kim, so "HOW" are we going to do that?" At the time I didn't give the process the respect it deserved. I need that in my life to help me look at both sides of the same coin.

I miss that.

I miss him.

We all do.

There is SO MUCH that has changed + there is SO MUCH that we miss. There is SO MUCH that we have processed + SO MUCH MORE to work through. We have experienced quite the trauma during the process of fighting to lose, and in the defeat of cancer, we have been left with a thick residual of heavy grief.

BUT we have learned SO MUCH.

This is the gold in the story. This is where God redeems the broken. He doesn't rewrite stories, he adds on to them... bringing new strength, growth, or light in response to what happened. We can count on this. He never leaves us where we are at, He always has things to show us and places to take us. We just can't let ourselves lose sight of him in the process. EVEN IF it means just barely cracking one eye open-enough to squint in his direction. Or one cracky whisper of "You're here, right God? I'm not alone, even though every ounce of me feels like it."

"Yes baby girl, I'm right here. I haven't taken my eye off of you for one single second. I love you so much + I know how deeply you are hurting. Someday you'll be able to walk again... for now just find rest in the knowledge I am here + I am fighting for you."

That right there is what has carried me to this point. Knowing my God is here, and true to his word. He will never leave me and never forsake me... and I have just got to believe that because my, what I thought was “FOREVER LOVE” did leave me. Not by his own doing but never the less, he is gone. And that messes with a girl's mind + heart on all sorts of levels.

I have SO MUCH MORE to say on this. But for now I just wanted to stop on in with a quick update and encourage anyone who is suffering immense loss. YOU AREN'T ALONE... EVER. Not even in your darkest nights. YOU are being fought for and guess what... he already won! I pray you can find some peace and some rest in that.

YOU are loved,

My entire story points to Him, even the dips and valleys.

Today I allowed myself a few minutes to dig back into my instagram posts from the last two years in order to allow myself to see where I have been and how far I have come. Because here is the deal, I have been feeling a bit stagnant, immobile, stuck in the thick of the grief. However, I remembered that a few months ago God reminded me how these seasons serve as a purpose to get us to the next hill to rise up on.

In October he showed me this:

“God has been carrying me in this valley. It is barely any effort of my own. Every time I try I fall flat. I just don’t seem to have the energy or mental space to sit and process with Him. Or maybe I am avoiding, skirting around and dodging the deep things? Not sure. Time will tell. But the question that keeps coming with my awareness of my avoidance is “Do I trust?” Is that what is stopping me from sitting in His presence?⠀
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I’ll be honest here- additionally Church has been a hard place to step into, so many memories. So, so many memories. Attending, leading, dreaming, building a family together, and healing. Healing happens in church, healing happens with God. ⠀
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Thankful for my kiddos yesterday- they all decided to gather and go... and I walked through the doors with them. And it was good. That first step gave me the strength to go with a couple of my kids to the worship event last night as well. SO GOOD. ⠀
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Which then led to me cracking open my Bible study this morning and journaling a bit as well. During that time God showed me this picture very clearly. Yes, the valleys and dips are tough... but He holds us tight by his right hand and lifts us up to higher ground. EVERY DIP + VALLEY CHANGES US, STRENGTHENS US, gives us a clearer perspective to be sympathetic, caring, loving, and world changers for the LOVE of Christ. ⠀
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For the LOVE let’s grab hands and go do hard things together.”

Sometimes looking back has its advantages. Just be careful you don’t stay there too long and get stuck.

Be well,

Kimber

Good Grief, what does it even look like?

I wish someone would tell me what GOOD GRIEF looks like. I take that back. No, I don’t! And here is why…

It doesn’t look like one particular thing. It doesn’t look the same from person to person. It doesn’t look the same day to day, or even hour to hour, or sometimes even minute to minute. Show me someone who loved deeply and lost, and I will show you yet another way that grief will show up on the scene. It is complex and individual to the person. And…. long lasting for most.

And MOURNING… the act of processing the deep abiding, long-lasting, grief. That is another thing entirely. Show me people who do that well and I will show you the most raw, revealing, public, tear your sackcloth, scream in the streets display of wailing you have ever seen. Stop and really think on that for a minute, how would that make you feel to witness? Um… perhaps too emotional for you? I mean, what would you do with that? Could you watch it comfortably from afar? Would you gently step up and touch it? Would you try to approach and hug it away? OR would you shift your attention elsewhere? I think internally your heart would quicken its step a little at that emotional exposure. Are they mad (as in out of their minds)? Do they need emergency assistance? Why can’t they control themselves? Many would want to do something about it to make it stop because it is just plain uncomfortable. And it should be…and it will be. And so what is a person going through it to do? Our culture holds many silent beliefs about this.

Okay, let’s open this door for a second…should those grieving “contain and control” the majority of the time? Is it a private matter? And let’s talk about the speed of it. Should it change its appearance rather quickly? Like would it be appropriate if the deep, incapacitating grief lasted a month or maybe two tops, following the loss? Then around 2-3 months we should probably expect the person to start engaging more and stepping back into the “real world” as many say. Oh, but they still seem and act different, perhaps guarded, distant, gloomy. Well, by six months surely they will be well on their way back to normal. And by a year… BAM… rolling forward with serious strides… in fact… some may say the wounds of grief should be basically healed at this point.

Oh friends, I am sitting here telling you that (let me count) it has been eight months since my husband passed and I am not sure I feel like I have taken one step towards healing. In fact, I am feeling the depth of the loss more deeply. It’s funny how the reality of all that the loss touches takes serious time to press into your thinking bank. Memory serves us well, until it doesn’t. My memory still tells me from experience he is going to walk through the door, that I need to check with him, that he is the expert and I need to wait for his opinion, that I am hurting and he is the one physical space where I can rest and feel comfort…. that last one is literally killing me. The VERY thing I need him most desperately for (comfort) is present because I NEED him most (first place besides God in my life). That one makes me feel like I am going mad. Reasoning ones absence in our lives doesn’t come easy. It takes time, a ton of different emotions, a bazillion spoken (or written) words, and even more thinking through. It hurts to think, talk, do and so our brains naturally do their very best to avoid it. We are literally fighting within our heads ALL THE DAY LONG. The brain does all it can to avoid the pain and at the same time it is screaming at you about your inabilities. Inability to focus, to do, to remember, to work through it. It is like 10,000 gears are working in different directions and at one no certain point they just end up jamming. Shutting down. Frozen. This typically happens to me in the late afternoon. I find myself DONE and ready to just close my eyes, sleep the rest of the day, or just turn everything off around me. I am literally exhausted mentally and physically with the simplest of things seeming impossible to accomplish. My brain just won’t work anymore.

This leads me into my current stage of discomfort with my grief. I am BEYOND ready for this pattern to be over, and to move on. I have things to do, I need to earn an income, I need to flipping just plain feel happy. I fear I am exhausting my friends, and I am certainly exhausting myself in the trying. But one can’t just give up… I must keep striving.

I do however trust the good, some relief from grief, is coming. I cling to that hope. A day will come when I have held more happy than sad within my minutes. I will always remember, I will always be sad it went how it did, but I will also look forward to the new. For now… I’ll just continue to feel and process until that day comes. So that the day will come.

And for those of you who are walking alongside someone who is grieving, or even approaching someone who is grieving. You don’t have to understand it. In fact, you probably can’t. But you can have immeasurable grace and love for them. Ask to help them with tangible tasks. The collections of those are often the most overwhelming. And listen… don’t be afraid. Let them RANT and just listen, and care. As they talk they are processing it out themselves. Fill the space with love and grace.

Be well,

Kimber