Not in Kansas Anymore

As I drove to school this morning, I was giving myself a great big atta-girl-pat-on-the-back. Seems I found myself praying for certain people in my life. Normal for you, but that felt like a giant step forward for me. The fact that I had extra room in my head and heart for others is a new development. It seems like for the past several months, many of my grief induced prayers have been reduced to one word, like "please", "help" and "mercy". And God is faithful to meet me where I am, and comfort me with more grace then I could possibly deserve. But praying diligently and daily for friends and family fell off my to-do list months ago. In fact, six months ago today. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, a little progress was being made in the healing department.

Until the ride home. The song that was sung at D's funeral came on the radio. Oh, how swiftly the tides can turn with just a few notes. Are you familiar with the song, "Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)" by Chris Rice found here? The words in the song that pierced my heart were surprising:

"Oh, and when the love spills over, and music fills the night

And when you can't contain your joy inside..."

Joy. There is a serious lack of it in my life these days. I occasionally make it to the point of "contentment", but joy has yet to hit my radar in this new journey I'm on. It kind of reminds me of the scene where Dorothy exits a technicolor Oz to return to a black and white Kansas. Grief feels colorless, void and not a beckoning destination. I don't know the way back to the Emerald City of my old life from here.

I think if you were to ask my colleagues they'd say I was upbeat and brave and happy and blah,blah, blah. If you asked me, I'm fairly sure my words, as always, would be, "Fine, fine, everything is fine." But truth be told, I often feel the best description of my inner thoughts would match the actress Helen Hayes' quote when she lost her husband, "I was just as crazy as you can be and still be at large."

I am heading out to dinner with two precious friends in a few minutes, and I know there will be laughter and good conversation. I'm looking forward to it. But I'm also looking to the return to a life full of color. And joy that spills over.