Today’s post is a continuation of sharing my journey of grief and dealing with change. For three weeks in October, my family of five (plus the dog!) piled into our truck, hitched up a small travel trailer and road-tripped across the country. I wrote this entry in my journal while on that trip.
Today I write from the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. A long way away from where all my pain sits waiting for me when I return. Or so I thought.
On the way to Colorado, we made our way through South Dakota. And that’s where God reached out and I finally opened my eyes and my ears.
We had just passed a flipped semi on the other side of the highway. My husband pulled over to jump out, run across the median and see if he could help. A short while later he returned to the truck and reported that everyone was okay. Should have been a relief, right? That’s what my brain said. But my body told me a different thing: I started tearing up. I was leaving a Marco Polo video message for a friend at that moment and I said, “Isn’t it funny how sometimes your body tells you something is wrong, even when your head doesn’t?”
I quickly ended the message and tried to regain my composure. I started trying to fix my sloppy ponytail, thinking that if I could just distract myself, if I could just fix something, I would feel better. By this point the tears are streaming down my face. My husband notices and gently asks if we need to stop and pull off somewhere. “No, I’m fine,” I say. Because apparently my brain still hasn’t received the message that my body and heart were sending. Then the panic set in. I began to feel claustrophobic in our truck cab, with three small girls loudly chattering behind me. After many attempts at deep breaths and holding back from full on weeping, I looked up and saw a rest area sign.
“Please pull over now,” I choked out.
As we pulled into a parking spot, I noticed a small prayer chapel off in the distance just beyond the rest stop. My first reaction was to dismiss it. As the truck came to a halt, I lunged out of the front seat and ran to the camper hitched to our truck. Once inside, I again attempted to smooth out my hair. But this time instead of stifling cries so as not to scare my kids, I let it all out. I just needed a good cry, right? I thought I’ll feel better once it’s all out of my system.
Still thinking that the tears had something to do with the car accident or my ratty hair, I was quite surprised when the calm after the storm of tears did not come. Maybe I just need a moment away from the truck/camper/family. I jumped out of the camper (with my hair finally under control), hollered to my family that I was going over to that little chapel and I would be back shortly. I crossed the pavement with hurried strides, finally reaching a well-worn dirt path across a field and up to the door of a little white chapel. Inside was not much warmer than outside, so I pulled my jacket tighter around my neck while I took it all in:
White walls with wood panel wainscoting and four sturdy, small wood benches. Two windows, one on the west wall, the other on the east, were the only sources of light. A simple wood cross hung on the north wall with an altar underneath. On the altar lay an open bible and a guest/prayer book.
I chose a bench on the left, near the altar. As I sat in silence, I let the tears flow, aware now that this was more than just needing a good cry. After a while, my eyes glanced up to notice the bible was open to 1 John 1. Tired of the silence, I reached out for the bible.
For the first time in months, I reached out towards God. I had become pretty good at talking about him, knowing what I was supposed to do, trying to manage my own fears and heartbreaks, reaching out to friends and family, but never God. Back to the chapel and the bible. I pulled the bible on my lap and started reading 1 John. When I got to 1 John 2, I felt the words pierce my heart.
“We know that we have come to know him if we obey his commands. The man who says, ‘I know him’ but does not do what he commands is a liar and the truth is not in him. But if anyone obeys his word, God’s love is truly made complete in him. This is how we know we are in him: Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.”
I John 2:3-6
Whoever claims to know and live in Him, must walk as Jesus did.
There’s the big punch in the gut—if I know him, do I live and walk like him? No? Do I really know Him like I thought?
As I walked back to my family, I decided I wanted to use the trip out west as an opportunity to rebuild my relationship with God. To get to a place where my heart, mind and body are all in line and worshipping Him.
In my last blog post, I mentioned dealing with anger and bitterness. I’m guessing—going out on a limb here—that the bitterness and resentment were getting in the way of my reaching out towards God. This experience was a turning point for me, like a shattering of the hard shell I had been wearing as a protection from feeling the deep sadness we were experiencing.
Have you ever had a “come to Jesus moment”? Has taking a physical trip/journey ever resulted in you going on a spiritual/emotional journey as well?
House of Dreams 