When Life Freezes You Dead In Your Tracks
St. Joseph Lighthouse on Lake Michigan. Taken January 6, 2014 encased in ice as the Midwest was hit with a “polar vortex”, causing wind chills to reach -50 degrees. Thanks to KRNV News 4 for the photo.
It’s been two months since my last devotional here. I wrote specifically to those who were experiencing a December Kind of Grief or knew someone who was in the throes of grief. Little did I realize I would soon find myself in need of solace.
Mom had been failing all year, but I never dreamed I’d watch her slip into the presence of God in the wee hours of the morning on December 22. For years, I’ve viewed my calling as a writer and speaker, to be one who brings hope to the hurting. And now, there my sister and I sat at Mom’s bedside, as she took her last breath. We rejoiced, totally happy for her. After 95 years and 10 months, Mom was more than ready to go.
But as the days wore on and Christmas passed, I found myself sitting and sleeping alone in Mom’s apartment, surrounded by her lingering scent, and all the neatly displayed treasures she loved. My husband was back home down South “celebrating” Christmas with our daughter, Missy and her family, and wasn’t due to arrive for a few more days. My grief seemed overwhelming at times as I worked alone. My sister was now sick and unable to physically come and help me. She took care of details she could from home while I busied myself writing an obituary and Celebration of Life pamphlet, planning various details for Mom’s funeral, and clearing out the last of her possessions yet again.
Just eight months before we had moved her to this apartment in a senior living community. My sister packed up what Mom would be taking with her. It was my job to find homes for the rest of it and get the house ready to put on the market. Over the course of the year, I traveled thousands of miles back and forth for extended stays with Mom. I was already weary by the beginning of December, but I pushed myself to get through and get everything done before I would travel back home to Tennessee.
We celebrated Mom’s life and buried her on January 5. I knew I was about to pass the point of running on adrenaline. In the midst of Mom’s passing, our families had other life events that had their icy grip on us, trying to freeze us in our tracks. My role as a “beacon of hope” was changing to one in need of hope. All my strength was waning. I could feel myself freezing up and shutting down. I was about to experience my own personal polar vortex.
Even the most steadfast beacons of hope can become paralyzed when hit by a polar vortex. There’s just no way to prevent life’s harshness from immobilizing us sometimes. A constant barrage of cruel, demoralizing words. . . the feeling of being totally isolated and alone. . . catastrophic illness. . . financial difficulties . . . the sudden loss of a loved one, are just some of the polar vortexes that freeze us dead in our tracks, unable to move.
People may look at our frozen state and see things we’re unable to see because we’re entombed. They can see the beauty and intricate handiwork of God working in our life. They’ll support us, and enable us to stand in this storm. But sometimes there’s just not anything anyone can do or say to thaw life’s icy grip. But oh, they can pray for us! YES!!
“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
Be strong and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.”Psalm 27:13,14
Take heart, Dear Ones. You and I are standing on The Rock. This is not permanent, nor will we be forever destroyed. In His time, He will thaw the icy tomb that is encasing us. We will come through this polar vortex and shine once again, giving glory to God for all He has done.
Dear Sister, you are not alone. It has been 12 years now, but my mom passed away just 3 days before her 83rd birthday, and 3 weeks before Christmas. She had battled depression and when she fell and broke her hip, she just never recovered. In a few days she was gone. It took quite awhile for me to fully recover, both my parents gone, both my husbands parents gone, it was so hard. I am sorry you are going through this, I pray you have wonderful memories to treasure.
Marsha, this is an offering of words. A bearing of heart and soul. Thank you. Your words have spoken to my own polar vortex. How paralyzing life sometimes can become. The feeling that thawing will never come and winter remain in the soul can truly be overwhelming, even a bit scary. As the thawing begins, hope arises and things inside begin their release. Its beautiful to watch and to experience. Thank you for sharing.
Praying for you, Marsha. A poignant parallel.
Oh, Marsha, even in your grief you give comfort to all of us. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with us. Praying for you and your family.
BTW – Psalm 27:14 is now my wall paper on my phone. A reminder that I can always find courage through Him.