As I mentioned in my previous blog, many walls were broken, mine as well as other squad-mates, while at training camp. I’ve been putting off this post for 2 reasons. First, I wanted to share this information with my squad in person, rather via Facebook or some other form of social media. And second, I don’t particularly care to revisit sources of pain. However, during training camp, we of course visited the issue of personal healing (emotional, spiritual, etc).
During the women’s Beauty for Ashes retreat, the Lord began to work on my heart in this particular area. It really wasn’t a surprise per say. But it did surprise me in the way I began to acknowledge it. During the retreat we were asked during a session to think of a time when we felt, God wasn’t there. That we felt ‘alone‘. I immediately knew the situation, which shocked me a little how quickly I began to draw the situation. What I didn’t realize was the intense emotions would accompany it. And so I begin my story, of not just loneliness, but on how I feel my joy was stolen from me.
Last year was not a typical Halloween. I spent it in the hospital. No, I was not working. I myself was not a patient. I was with my Dad. To keep an extremely eventful short story short. My dad was diagnosed with cancer in August 2013, had surgery in September, recovered for 6 weeks, and was admitted to the hospital in mid-October with complications. My dad was an extraordinarily health guy, so this was quite a hit. After nearly a week and half of waiting, critical moments, and finally a prognosis, we found ourselves finally in an oncology room last Halloween. And I found myself playing the “will he/won’t he get his first round of chemo” game.
About a week before, only a few days after my Dad was admitted to inpatient, I found myself feeling very alone. I was watching my Dad deteriorate, and I felt like nobody was paying attention. Eventually his situation became emergent, and finally something was being done. During that time, I knew my dad’s life, and my life, was in His hands. It’s probably how I kept my cool for long. But I also was at a point of an identity crisis. Am I a nurse, or am I a daughter? Any person who is or has family in the medical field understands what I mean bye this. The following day he did receive his first dose of chemo. However by the time Saturday arrived, he took a turn for the worse. We moved him to a wonderful hospice home for one night, and by November 5th, my Dad left this world to enter a world of no more tears, pain, or suffering (Revelations 22:4).
This past year, has been rough. And though I have hope in the Lord, I have been walking the road of grief. And I hadn’t realized how much joy I had been robbed of, until I arrived at training camp. But the good news is…it is returning. There is freedom. I came to this realization one night, as I walked over to my friend Kate. I immediately began sobbing in her arms. When asked what was happening, I barely choked out that “I wasn’t sure”. But deep down, I was. I could sense joy returning and at the same time fear. I was afraid that it would only be temporary. And I wanted more [joy]. I was able to worship my Lord, without hesitance. I found myself smiling as I sang in worship. All I could say was, “Lord, I want more”.
I like The Message interpretation of Psalm 30: 11-12:
You did it: you changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
I can’t thank you enough.
I say this all to admit, yes I may still grieving.
But I can also have joy through the grief. Now, I have over 50 new brothers and sisters walking with me. They are praying for me, as I am them, and reminding me I can fight the lies Satan tries to throw at me. And I am preparing to continue to fight for my joy. I am not alone. He is with me. He will never leave me, nor forsake me Deuteronomy 31:6
