Letter to God - A Glimpse of the Sunshine

Dear God,

Slowly but surely a light is shining in my soul. 

It’s been a soul crushing week.  I will never forget the suffering that Shannon endured in those last days, her chapped lips a testament to the desperate thirst she felt.  Her stomach couldn’t handle the fluids she craved.  I will never forget her frail body struggling with those last breaths or how tiny she looked as the mortician carried her out the front door.  I will never forget the utter pain and loneliness that I experienced in those hours and days. 

God, you found ways to break into my darkness.  At the visitation, after the initial surge of emotion at seeing her body, you brought me wave after wave of people showing your love over me and my family.  I walked away exhausted but surrounded in care.  The funeral brought your words of hope, expressed through song, liturgy, and proclamation.  I received the reminder of your victory over death, of your love which can never be taken from us, of the community of the saints that Shannon now lives with.  “They will thirst no more.”  I will never hear those words the same again.  The entire service proclaimed your love and power.  Thank you.

The commendation nearly did me in.  It felt like a final good-bye, entrusting Shannon to your loving arms.  Ben and I stood embracing each other giving that last farewell.  Tears flooded over me then and still fill my eyes just thinking about it.  Shannon is gone from this earth.  She rests in your care.  Nothing will change that.

As a pastor I’ve always told families about the blessing of the funeral lunch.  On Wednesday I experienced it myself.  After the agony of the funeral it became a step in healing.  We told stories of Shannon’s life.  As Ben said afterwards, “I’ve never hugged so many people in my life.”  Again, your love flowed through the support of so many people who came to be with us.  Thank you.

Yesterday I woke up to the first day of the rest of my life.  For the first time in weeks Ben and I had the house to ourselves.  I puttered on projects.  I cleaned my desk.  I went for a 5 mile run.  God, yesterday hope started to shine once again.  For years every time Shannon would go on a new chemo regimen we would have to figure out what the ‘new normal’ would be.  It’s time to find that new normal for myself. 

Yesterday felt like a weight had been taken from my shoulders.  It began to dawn on me how much work it’s been to be the primary caregiver for someone with cancer.  On the spur of the moment I called a friend to get together for a beer.  I invited someone to come over to watch a football game on Saturday.  These are things I haven’t been able to do in a very long time.  I’m growing excited for the future.

Yet as I explained this new hope to my friend over that delicious beer I found the tears were right below the surface.  It’s going to be a long journey to find that new normal.  I’ll miss Shannon terribly.

But for now, Lord, I give thanks for moments of peace.  My faith has always focused on your power to conquer death.  You have done it once again!  I pray that in the emotional roller coaster ahead you would continue to bring a glimpse of your sunshine.