Since Drey died I pout a lot. If I’m not feeling guilty or angry… There’s a good chance the feeling of choice is selfpity.

Sometimes I have no choice but to sob and yell at God, “it’s not fair!” But as the weeks and months have somehow turned into years… Almost 3 of ’em… I’m learning that part of integrating this grief into my life means choosing more and more often to believe something other than what my feelings are telling me. 

My son, my only child, my favorite dude, my sweet pea, my Dreyster. He’s dead. My heart will remain broken until heaven. Trying to fix or change my feelings will never work. Instead I’m learning to exercise my “knowledge muscles.” They not only need strengthened but they need maintained because atrophy can set in within minutes.

I KNOW I am blessed. I don’t feel blessed very often. And sadly I don’t act blessed very often. But that doesn’t change the truth: I AM blessed. 

I can choose to ask God “why.”

I can choose to dwell on what could’ve been – what should’ve been.

I can choose to continually throughout the day again and again ask God for the strength, wisdom and discernment I need to cultivate a grateful heart.

I can choose to acknowledge my feelings rather than justify them or deny them.

I can choose to remember I am the creation and not the creator.

I can choose to push myself to attend events that leave me sad, fragile and vulnerable in order to prove to everyone I’m just fine. 

I can choose to say “no” to plans and sit on my patio, crying, letting God’s Word do its thing, free of guilt.

I can choose to believe I’m “too much” to be around. 

I can choose to feel isolated and misunderstood.

I can choose to let God lovingly work on your character.

I have nothing to prove. I’ve been placed in these circumstances. I ache and I am broken. Sometimes there’s just no point in fussing about it.