My Grief Plan- Take Two

Author’s Disclaimer: I am a woman.  All emotions and feelings expressed within this blog are subject to change without written notice or prior authorization.  The salt shaker is on the table.  Take as many grains as are required for taste.

I was sitting in a semi-private waiting room today, stripped of my purse and a few other things I highly value – such as my clothing.  I could either try to make small talk with the other women in the same situation or look at a magazine.  I tried the small-talk thing, but most of them weren’t too interested in chit-chat while sitting in their gowns.  So, I grabbed a magazine.  While leafing through the pages, my attention was captured by this quote from a gal who was in a bike race.  “I got a little lost en route, but the journey was the destination.”  I’ve often heard a similar quote but with a different twist: “Marriage is a journey, not a destination.”  I like the new saying better.  I know, it’s really just semantics, but it gives a slightly different meaning.  It implies that there is, indeed, a destination – not just some aimless wandering that is simply a journey.  The journey IS the destination.  That’s different.  It gives a touch of reason.

It’s been a year.  I’ve been on a journey and at times a little lost.  I think I’m starting to “get it”.  I think I started “getting it” more than a week ago when I found enough humor in my situation to write “Slay the Dragon”.  I’ve been running and fighting, kicking and screaming, scheming and dreaming.  Life took me down a path not of my own choosing.  And I’ve been bound and determined I wouldn’t stay here long.  So I made my plan – quite unconsciously.  Get me out of here NOW! was the title of the plan.  But “here” I am.  And “here” I will stay for a while.  And that’s OK.  A year from now I’ll probably look back and say, “Boy, I didn’t “get it” at all when I wrote that.  Now I get it!”  Probably.  And that will be OK too.  Because part of “getting it” is realizing that you don’t.

Psalm 68:5 “A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, Is God in His holy habitation.”

Who could ask for better?

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