CHANGE: the act or instance of making or becoming different.

I can think of several instances in my life which have changed or altered my future forever. Some happy like getting married and having babies, and others like my current trial are devastating. Each one had a lesson and an opportunity for growth.  In the definition of change the part that strikes me is the word “instance”. Everything can change in but an instance.

Last May, the kids and I were driving home from a friends house in Heber. We were talking and singing, when all of a sudden I heard a pop and the car veered sharply to the right. Miraculously we didn’t hit another car, and as we hit the barrier all I could think was to keep my wheel straight and NOT to over-correct. Somehow I stayed calm and once I came to a stop I checked on my babies. Both were scared but completely unharmed. All I could think about was how in one moment everything could have been so different. A week later in almost the same spot, a man was killed due to an almost identical situation.

As we were waiting 20 minutes for a tow truck, the police and a ride home, I started to cry. The kids were mad, hot, and tired of sitting. I felt so helpless, and sunk into a ginormous pity party about how 2017 just wasn’t my year. Mid-tears a thought came to my head “I can make this right, not only right but better”- I wasn’t alone with my babies on the side of the road. I had guardian angels and my savior beside me.

The trauma of this incident was short-lived. We were finally picked up, insurance was easy to deal with, and within a week we received a decent sized check to use on another car. The thought I had came true, I ended up with a better, more reliable car (which I was in desperate need of). This may be a small example, but it gave me so much hope.

I will never forget the night in January when in an instant my whole world crashed around me. I lost my husband, marriage, security, self-esteem and hope for more children all in an instant. The future I once thought possible was gone. Nothing would ever be the same, and I’d have to give up so many dreams I had wanted for myself and my family.

“I can make this right, not only right but better”.  Even something as devastating as this- he can make better. It may not be as quick and I am still unsure how a life so broken can be truly healed. With God all things are possible.

A dear friend of mine has an inspiring blog As Dews From Heaven. Several weeks ago she wrote a post called You’re Human.  Go read it it’s fabulous. In the post she wrote about a unique Japanese art form called “kintsugi”. A friend of hers explains it as follows:

“This Japanese art form “kintsugi” repairs broken pottery by filling the cracks with precious metals to restore the damaged pieces to create something beautiful and whole. Compared to Western culture which values flawless perfection, this Japanese art form treasures broken pieces and scars from the past experiences that can be fixed, finished, and completed to become more than the original.” -Emily Allen White

How beautiful and inspiring is that? I may be broken, but I’m still beautiful. In an instant my whole life changed, but he can fix that. My Savior can and will fill all my broken pieces with something much better than gold- with love!

The first month after “D Day”, the kids and I spent at my parents. The majority of the month was spent in shock and disbelief. Lots and lots of tears, lots and lots of anger and lots and lots of loneliness were present. My heart felt empty and my body cold.

The night my husband disclosed his secret to me, one of my initial thoughts was how could I keep this hidden. How horrible is that? Something that was hidden for so long until the secret became so large it blew up into devastating results-I too wanted to keep it hidden. He immediately told me to call my parents, and I did. The children and I left. My journey through grief and finding me began on that long snowy drive away from the home and life I held so dear.

A few months ago I wrote to a group of friends asking how to not get emotional at church, to which one of them replied “Why? Why can’t you cry? Why can’t you show how you’re truly feeling?” I came up with all sorts of reasons such as “it’s embarrassing”, “church is not the place” and “because I try so hard to be strong”. She had a rebuttal to everyone and it was simply “why”. I’ve thought a lot about this the last few months, and I cannot truly come up with a legit reason as to why. It’s been a constant battle to let my emotions have room and to truly take the space I need.

Grief is hard and being vulnerable in grief is even harder.

My mom gave me a book to read called “Tear Soup”.

Tear Soup: A Recipe for Healing After Loss

The story is about an old women who is grieving, it follows her through her journey as she makes tear soup.

Into this pot of soup she throws memories and lots of tears. It takes months and even years for her soup to develop and it is often bitter to the taste. I love how it talks about how her husband’s process of making tear soup differs significantly. It also makes it quite clear that she must make it herself.  uses an analogy of making tear soup to show how this old woman grieves. It shows her pathway of navigating sadness and how she allows herself to experience grief.

It’s a beautiful book and I highly recommend it to anyone who is grieving. As I’ve read and reread this book I can see exactly where I am on my own journey of making tear soup.

Another book I was given early on is called “Captivating”. The book is written for women and discusses the value and importance of women, and God’s desire to love and be loved by each one of us.

Captivating Revised and Updated: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul

I’ll be honest I struggled through some of this book, not because I didn’t like it but because it hurt. I was still trying to hide my emotions and my pain. When I came to the following quote, everything changed

“Grief is a form of validation; it says the wound mattered. It mattered. You mattered.” Captivating, pg. 103

I mattered, my pain mattered, my heartache mattered, my tears mattered. It was the first time I let myself be vulnerable to me. I had pushed down my emotions that even I didn’t know how to feel them. I cried not for the loss of the life I had loved, but for the loss of me. The loss of letting me feel what I felt, changed the course of my journey.

My journey of making tear soup and the full mourning process is far from over. I am finally to the point where I can let myself feel. This last week has been hard. I have been triggered right and left and old memories have flooded my mind. Many good and some bad. The good memories are the hardest. I can’t figure how we got from the good moments to now. How my husband could surprise me during my pregnancy with the best tasting mac and cheese sandwich, or how we held hands eating pizza under the night sky. When these memories came back to me I accepted them, I let them stay, I mourned them and then I let them go. I have a long way to go, but I’d say this is progress..