I had been crying loudly for 15 minutes. My wife was laying peacefully and mostly non-responsive in bed next to me. Cancer had been taking her life for over a year and she was days away from breathing her last breath at age 38. I was at the end of myself and had nothing left to give. I couldn’t imagine life and ministry without her, especially with two kids still in the home. But God had one last message he wanted to send me through her. In the middle of my loud cries, she slowly lifted her hands towards me. Not knowing what to do I put my head in-between her hands and she said in a whisper voice “You’re going to make it through.”
Soon I was living the biggest transition of my life. I craved normalcy and predictability, but I was thrown into an unknown future that felt unbearable. It wasn’t one transition but hundreds of big and small transitions at once. It was too much for my body, mind, and soul to comprehend so I entered my own mostly non-responsive state.
The first thing I needed was to take a deep breath and remember that God still loved me and was with me. The transition caused a deep sense of aloneness – like I was lost in a cave with no light. My emotions were telling me I couldn’t go on but knowing God cared and was with me at least helped me make it to the next hour. The loneliness has caused me to go to God more than ever creating a new depth in our relationship.
More practically I needed everything to be simple and slow. My body, mind, and soul needed time to adjust to life without my wife. I had to redefine my needs and wants. For the first month if it didn’t have to do with me or my kids surviving the day it got thrown into the want category. I needed to make sure I gave my emotions space to come to terms with my new reality. To grieve the past and trust God with the future. Depending on the type of transition this can be a painfully slow process. The verse I memorized and think about often is Psalm 27:14: “Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!”
At my lowest I’ve made it a habit to reach out to someone, even just a text to tell them I’m hurting. I’m not looking for advice or pick-me-up but just sending the message somehow helps dissipate the pain and makes me feel less alone. I think for most of us it takes humility and vulnerability to reach out to someone, but it activates the love and care that God purposed for the body of Christ.
One of my greatest fears became my reality. But pain and transition are where God does his deepest work – and for that I am grateful.