Today is the first day back on our old/new schedule without Tyson being here.

The Easter holiday allowed us to gather with family and celebrate, making much of the pain of his death at a distance but only for a short time.

I visited his grave yesterday for the first time. We had traveled up to Rimersburg, Pa, a small town that I grew up in to visit my in laws and celebrate our Easter at the old church I used to go to (with my now husband) growing up.

It always seems so surreal to sit in the very seats that we did as teenagers but now with our five-year-old son and do our traditional hymns and means of praise.

The church up there is slowly dying. And there are only a few members still left. When you sing, it feels like you are on stage, because it is such a big open area with a beautiful organ and pianist who plays but with very little voices other than your own. It never stops me from belting out those old traditional hymns from those old, red, and dusty hymnbooks though; I love every minute of it. It’s what I grew up with and what feels like, “home” to me. Well, somewhat.

Anyway, it all got me thinking—the whole weekend did, about Jesus and the resurrection, life and death, death and life, and generally having to try and process all of these heavy things while at the same time help with simplistic fun stuff like finding a plastic egg full of candy and coins. The foil of the whole situation is something I could go on about probably, forever…but nevertheless there were all the metaphors being thrown at me with every step (it seemed) that I took.

Have you ever been bombarded with messages? Not just on your phone or email but from God?

In psychiatric terms, this might be what they often refer to as “racing thoughts.” (Which is partly a joke I’m making right now). But, let’s be honest, either way, Easter is FULL of messages. TONS. And I truly believe the more open you are to be receiving these “messages” the more you will get.

We often pray out to God and ask for “signs.” We might even do this subconsciously, but we are looking and trying to find His guidance. The funny part about this is, how knuckle brained we are in thinking we have to “wait.” If the Holy Spirit dwells within us, we are at an extreme advantage when it comes to “being heard.” It’s the hearing back part that we all somewhat stumble around or attempt to “figure out.”

I see my counselor again tomorrow. It’s been a long time since I last saw her. It’s because I thought (at the time) that what we were doing wasn’t working well enough for me, so I took a break from my appointments for a month or two. The truth is, I simply wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t ready spiritually even to move forward.

I’ve come a long way in the past year in trying to better myself and have done intensive therapy in choosing to deal with my PTSD, anxiety, depression, and dare I say any other diagnostics.

It has been a roller coaster ride, but one that is finally being set upright and on track. I could not have done this or gotten this far though without a Higher Power. To know Jesus is something that I continue to learn about and grow with. The Holy Spirit that dwells in me is so powerful it nearly scares me sometimes, but I know and fear a God that dwells in me and I know this to now be true. There is no doubt, there is just new life.

As I visited Tyson’s grave yesterday, I had taken three red tulips and cut them from my plant bed for him. All three of us, as a family, stood upon his grave, said some words, and placed a tulip near his head. It comforted me in a strange way, but I knew that he wasn’t really there. I could feel it. He had gone somewhere else, somewhere I simply couldn’t go, and that’s all I know.

Each day without him seems to get harder, but I know that that is simply the wrong mindset to have and I have been attempting to readjust this as time moves forward. The truth is, all of this is about moving forward. It has been a life lesson for me that has taken nearly forty years, but it’s true. Death is life. Easter is real. And moving forward simply means continuing to stay on track amidst all of the pain and suffering we do here on Earth. Until we go home.

This is not my home. My home can be found in those dusty old hymnals, praising the Lord…the feeling I get from that “feels” the closest to “home” I’ve ever been. And it’s because I am not “home” yet I’ve decided; I am simply living this life the best I can in looking for His will for me and my life before my time comes to get to go “home.” I believe that that is why we always feel like we don’t quite “fit in” here on this earth. And as much as we try, there is never going to be a person, thing, or time in which we have a true “home” or belonging here. If you believe in Jesus, you believe in life eternal, and know this already, but for me it has become a rude awakening and I’m awe struck with the wonderment and pure magnitude of it all. It is more than a blessing. There are no words for what I speak of.

I hope you had a good Easter season and that Jesus touched your heart this year too. Please continue to pray for me and my family in this new time of adjustment as it is sorrow that the grief sometimes brings us. It comes in waves, but we are faithful in knowing that the tide always goes out again and with that, every new day God shows us new mercy and new life as we know it. It is all merely a preview of the greatness that is to come. Amen.

“Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Matthew 6:33

Here is a picture I captured a handful of years ago when visiting my brother in Erie, Pa. I think it is inspiring so I thought I would share it with today’s blog.

home.

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