I turned to scripture. Reading about the saints who went on before me and walked through the valley gave me hope.
I went for long hikes and bike rides to let God sooth my pain in his creation.
I listened to music that reminded me that God is Sovereign.
I wept and wept. Odd things could bring tears that soothed me.
I rejoiced whenever someone would talk about the dear ones who had died. It meant that someone cared. (A word of advice. When someone loses a loved one, please talk about that person. It is good to remember. Don't stay silent out of fear of dragging up memories. Speak and bath that person in the memories that you have. It's healing.)
I waited in silence. I had no more words to speak so the Spirit prayed on my behalf with groanings.
I had my days of faith and my days of failure and hopelessness. I longed for the quiet stream where I could rest.
I still grieve as time passes. Time does heal, but the scar remains. The scars, however, remind me that I follow the Savior and he tells me to pick up my cross and follow him. He tells me that in this life there are many troubles, but take heart...he has overcome the world.
One of my favorite poems:
Hast Thou No Scar
by Amy Carmichael
Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land,
I hear them hail thy bright ascendant star,
Hast thou no scar?
Hast thou no wound?
Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent.
Leaned me against the tree to die, and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed me, I swooned:
Hast thou no wound?
No wound? No scar?
Yet as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar?