Two months ago today since Rusty died…It doesn’t seem possible that it’s been 2 months. They say time heals all wounds. Really, only God can heal those wounds. And He is, and I’m thankful. But the thought I had today is that time only seems to be mocking our loss. Part of me feels guilty for moving on, and leaving that horrible night in the past. I do realize it’s still really early in this journey of grief, and I probably don’t really know what I’m talking about compared with those who have been down a similar path. But there’s just this part of me that keeps thinking, “Wait! Time, please stop or slow down or something. I need to stay here and try to make sense of what has happened. I need to do his memory justice. I’m not ready to move forward.” Yet, time just keeps passing along, refusing to acknowledge my loss, my pain, or my confusion. And just how, exactly, does Time expect to “heal my wounds” when the more time that passes, the more I realize how much I miss my brother?
And there’s already been some of the dreaded “holiday” or special family moments that have come about as a result of Time’s unrelenting persistence to keep marching forward: Easter, Mother’s Day, David’s Kindergarten graduation. That last one was the hardest for me. I kept thinking, “I’m not ready to do this without Rusty! I want Time to just not make me go there yet!” But Time didn’t listen or care. It dragged me through each of those painful events anyway. Oh, and just for kicks, this year Rusty’s birthday will be on Thanksgiving. Double whammy.
On the other hand, though, I’m also ready to be done with this deep grieving process. Everyone says the first year is the hardest, and so I’m ready to be past that. I think this is the selfish side of me. Or the part that wants to escape the reality of Rusty’s death. I keep thinking I want to volunteer and get involved with a couple of ministries that are near and dear to my heart – and ones that I believe God is calling me to be involved in at some point. But a couple of weeks ago when I discussed it with a mentor who happens to be over both ministries, he told me I’m not ready – that I’m too vulnerable right now, and that I need to give myself more time to heal. Part of me is afraid that as I stay here and learn how to heal from this grief, this trauma, those ministry opportunities will pass me by. I know that’s a lie, and that if God really is calling me to those ministries, then His timing will be perfect.
Ah, but I just stumbled on the truth of the matter. God’s timing. Time isn’t Sovereign. God is. Time is merely His tool to accomplish His purposes. I just read this week in Isaiah 38 about God giving Hezekiah more time, and as proof of His promise, He made the sun move backward – completely displaying His power and authority over Time itself. The next day I read the famous passage from Ezekiel 3 about there is a time for everything. I need those reminders. When I’m fighting against Time moving on or not moving quickly enough, I’m really fighting God’s Sovereign plan and control over my life. He could stop time, if that was what would be best for me. He could fast forward us all into next year, but I’m sure I would miss the wonderful things I will learn from Him and about Him in the midst of the hardest moments.
So I have a choice to make: continue to fight against time and all the ways it isn’t working for me, or to recognize that all of this happened and is happening by God’s will, and that there is a plan in all of it for my family and me. For our good and His glory. I can choose to rest in the Lord or I can continue to wrestle. Bottom line: I can choose to release control to Him, or I can hold onto my illusion of control until my knuckles turn white. And so tonight, I choose to “cease striving and know that He is God.” (from Ps. 46:10) I choose to trust that His timing is perfect.