Wave of Fear

Devotional: Applying the Bible to my today.

Read: 1 Peter 5:6-11

Saying goodbye to family is nothing new as I’ve lived far from home for more than 20 years. It’s never easy, but a few times have been more difficult than others.

Several days prior to our flight home from visiting my husband’s family recently, fear began to grip me. Every time I looked at our beautiful, new great-niece, it was a reminder of how different this sweet girl will be next time we see her and how quickly it seems my own children are growing and slipping from my grasp. Thoughts crashed in my mind that this may be the last time I see my in-laws. Now that both of my parents have passed, fear of losing my in-laws surfaced.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” CS Lewis, A Grief Observed

"Will anything be the same the next time we visit?", “How can I make myself always remember these moments?” I panicked trying to embed everything into my long-term memory… every moment, every laugh, every hug, every meal… every everything.

For a few nights, I laid awake remembering all the people I’ve loved so much that have died and how much it changes everything when they do. When I visit my hometown now, I am lost without my mom and dad’s house to visit, for everyone to congregate and reminisce or build new memories together. Now we stay in hotels, hop from house to house, spending only minimal time with different family members… never feeling quite satisfied.

For now, at my in-laws, we all still spend time together in one place. We know exactly where we will stay when we visit, and extended family knows where to go if they want to see us. We do everything together during our visits - laugh, eat, work and relax. I never want to say goodbye to what we all have together now.

Fear of the future can rob the beauty of “now”.

On Christmas Eve when I was nine years old, I spotted a stuffed dog in Walmart. Dad gave a firm “no” to my request, telling me that Santa had completed all of his plans which did not include the stuffed dog. The following morning, the dog sat unwrapped, front and center of the gifts under the tree. Even my mom was surprised of the gift. Not sure how he pulled it off, but I knew it was him and not Santa, and that made it even more amazing.

My dad was the buyer of ice cream and donuts, the teller of jokes and stories, the doer of dirty and unwanted chores. I didn’t buy any women’s products for myself until I moved away to college – yep, my dad bought them for me. He chopped onions while wearing goggles, and he called himself “Ironman” because he did all the ironing. I have a clear understanding of my dad’s weaknesses and faults, which makes the things he did well seem even more incredible to me.

But now I am an orphan; my mom has been gone 6 years, and dad 4 months. With dad around I still had a piece of my mom, but now they are both gone. On special occasions and holidays, nobody is awaiting my call.

Fear of the future can rob the joy of memories.

I only hurt so much because I loved so much… a lesson I learned when grieving the loss of our son. I know how much I love those who are still here; hence, the fear and anxiety stemming from a realistic perspective of how deeply it will ache and all the aspects of my life that will change when it comes time to say goodbye.

Fear of the future can rob hope for the future.

Though I had been praying intermittently in my head throughout the days I was experiencing this fear, I got up extra early the third day so that I could spend time in focused prayer and reading God’s word. I needed to pour my heart out to Him while soaking in truth. A delineation of Satan versus Christ’s approach to my grief jumped out of the pages which ripped me out of my downward spiral.

Satan’s tactic can be very powerful, but there’s only one tactic – temptation. He dangles fear in my face. Fear leads to anxiety, desire to control the uncontrollable, anger, isolation, paralyzing dread, the need to fight, numb, or run from it all. How strange it was that while I was fearing the loss of those I loved, I wanted to also just get away. Nothing good can come from succumbing to the temptations of Satan; it leads to a death while I am still alive. I’ve been there, and I never want to go back.

Christ’s approach to my grief is longstanding. He began His process years before I existed, and He has provided hope regarding grief for now until eternity. It involves unconditional love, comfort, personal understanding of suffering. He gives life to the here and now while also providing eternal hope. He gives me armor to fight every seen and unseen enemy and provides reminders that my suffering is temporary.

Today, I grieve but I am not without hope. One day I will have to say goodbye to more people that I love, and, while I desperately wish it wasn’t so, there’s no reason for it to grip or control me. I have confidence that love for those I've lost will not pass but this heaviness will wither away.

To Satan, I say this, “Screw you! Once again, you lose. You will not steal the joy of my memories, the beauty of now, or the hope of tomorrow.”