(Continued from last week)
As I wrote last week, the years passed and life went on, but my faith was struggling.
Bruce was beyond supportive. He knew I needed to fill this part of my life. Together, we went from church to church trying to find a place where we might fit in… but I was scared. I wanted “more”, but I didn’t feel welcome to experience “more”. He was encouraging, but not pushy. I, on the other hand, held back… My trust in the church – any church – was gone.
Then, just 2 months prior to Bruce’s death, my faith finally came crashing down around me. Little did I know what was ahead of me and how impossibly hard it would be to grieve when I had no faith… and no hope.
You see, I had (finally) found what I thought could be my new “church home”. I can remember sitting in this small Episcopal church (a denomination, I thought would be a little more understanding about divorce). I had been attending for several months and was starting to feel like I just might actually fit in there.
That particular week, the pastor started a homily on the “evils of divorce”. I was a little bit wary at first but thought that he would give a caveat about abuse being a reason to leave. As the minutes passed, I remember crying and thinking, “He isn’t addressing abuse… Life choices aren’t always that simple.” Then he said, “Divorce is never okay, even if there is abuse.” I was completely stunned. I wasn’t welcome, after all… I never would be… And so, I left… I literally got up in the middle of the service and quietly walked out. All I knew was I couldn’t do it anymore… My heart couldn’t take it any more.
I think I must have cried for a week straight. (I know I cried so much I gave myself two black eyes.) At that point, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had lost my faith… It was gone… (or so I thought). Then, two months later, Bruce died. With no faith to fall back on, I lost all hope. Losing my faith and my love so close together had taken away my hope… And I had no idea how to get it back.
Time, although I couldn’t see it then, became my friend and the key I needed. Slowly… very slowly… I started to deconstruct, then reconstruct my faith…. And I learned quite quickly that my struggle wasn’t with God. My struggle was how God was being interpreted and presented.
First, I went back to the basic concepts I knew I believed without a doubt. Granted, it took me a while to strip away the dogma and other people’s interpretations, and finally figure out for myself what I believe… rather than what someone else was telling me to believe… To come to an understanding of my faith vs someone else’s faith.
I have to be honest; this was all possible because of Bruce and the legacy he left behind… a faith that he lived but never preached.
I started by reading the books he had read and listening to the speakers he had favored. Over time, I have found new authors and speakers and entire communities that share my quest for a faith that is built on a God that can’t be defined or put in a nice, neat box. A faith that is that is as individual as each one of us.
Even today, I am still working to reassemble a faith that is mine… a faith that is as genuine as Bruce’s was. However, by doing this… by working hard to understand what I believe, hope is also returning to my world.
My faith is noticeably different from what it was, but I can say without hesitation that it is mine… And the hope that I now feel is different too. It is less naïve and much more grounded. It isn’t based on miracles or punishments. It is not based on whether or not I am considered “worthy” or “good enough”. Instead, it is based on a loving relationship… It is filled with a hope that things can be better, but not that they necessarily will be… nor do they have to be for this hope to keep going.
Instead, this faith has given me true hope that continues to carry me through this season of grief.
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This journey isn’t easy… not that you need me to tell you that. Loss can be traumatic, and the grief we are left to figure out is hard. Thankfully, though, there are moments and actions we can take to refresh our souls – Moments where I learn a little bit more about faith, life, and love.
As the years pass, I can honestly say that there are more of these good moments than bad. Each day, I continue to learn more and more about those things that seem to help me heal and move forward – like sharing precious memories. So, I will continue to allow myself the space I need to heal and process this life without my love… without Bruce. Thankfully, at this point in my journey, I am learning that I am not alone – thanks to you!
In fact, none of us need to be alone, because we have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing and helps us to process that avalanche of emotions that grief brings us. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
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