Keep the change you filthy animal!

This may have a familiar ring, if your like me and tend to watch some of the same Christmas movies every year. This little gem is from Home Alone. Every time I say the word "change" , that line comes to mind. And over the past year it seems fitting.

Change is hard. Not the dollars and cents kind, I actually like that kind of change. No, the rock your world, knock you off your favorite comfortable life chair, kinda change. It's been almost a year since I've been able to write anything legible, read an entire book or sit through a movie without getting antsy or feeling overwhelmed. This. is. not. the. normal. me. I have changed. Life has changed. I'm trying to keep up and it's hard, no it's impossible, there is only today and I just have to survive it. Leaning on anything but the solid rock of Jesus would have left me sinking in the sand right now. I feel like that's a hymn I used to sing. It never made a lot of sense, but now I get it. I get a lot of things now and I'd like to be blissfully unaware again, but change happened. In my head I know that I will get to see once again, my dad, my best friend, my aunt, my babies I lost before I even knew them. But my heart cries out for them in a more tangible way than ever before. Grief upon grief changes you. I WILL SEE THEM AGAIN. I'm thankful that as a child God took hold of my heart and told me those truths. He knew I'd need a deep root of belief . So here I am working through change and surviving a lot of loss and some near misses. Realizing the mortality of who I am and everyone round me like never before. And honestly it makes no sense to be able to get out of bed and start a day with joy or hope. And yet, its been a gift to me. The fear that tries to cover me and stop me in my tracks is miraculously pushed back with a power that is not within me. It is that gift that gave everyone in all of history the ability to survive great tragedy. I'm only talking about first world tragedy....there are so many that make my grief look like a walk in the park. I know that in my head, but my heart can't process that. So like anyone, I can only truly grieve what I've survived.

Most days, I'd like to yell to the world "Keep the change you filthy animal" and well, I do. I'm guilty. I'm also human and perfectly imperfect in every way.

New change has occurred, over the last 3 weeks, I've read a book, I've sat through church without falling to pieces, I've watched an entire movie without getting up to clean something, I've even taken a nap. Something inside me is slowing down and allowing me to not be so afraid to feel my own heart beat. To except the change without so much anxiety and fear. I might not be so changed after all. I thought the grief had transfigured me into someone I didn't recognize. But here I am typing two full paragraphs of somewhat recognizable thought. My grief counselor was right, this is a process. I am changed. I hope for the better. More cautious to take time to say the things on my heart to my people. I've learned to love people who are hurting, I've learned that being alone and feeling deeply isn't so scary after all. I've learned that change is inevitable but it doesn't have to transform you into something you don't like. I've learned that if you allow it, healing can take place.

I am not the same, I've sustained an injury that may never completely heal. Like losing an arm or a leg. I know it will never grow back, but I'm learning to keep running the marathon. It's a whole lot harder and comes with great pain. But it's my race to be run and although the casualties have been great, the blessings are greater still.

Read John 17. It may change you a little.