I know what's coming....

I wish I could say all the good things; that I've moved into the time for joy, that the time for mourning is over, that I'm feeling so much better...

But, I'm not.

I've had several friends check in on my this week. Those who know, Rob has gone on his yearly hunting trip.

The trip he was on last year when I got the phone call no one...ever...should have to receive.

We couldn't locate his camp for 2 days.

Friends started driving around where I thought they night be. And if you know me even for a little bit, you know that directions are not my thing...at all.

Miracles do happen...and our friends from Idaho found his camp..and then had to tell him why they were looking for him.

So, even though I have a couple of weeks until we hit that year mark, this is the week Rob is gone.

To be honest, it's forcing me to process what I thought I had processed, but it seems to me not.

Or, maybe it's just a continual cycle.

I'm not sure.

I'm so sorry this is such a hard read....If I could process this on my own I would. I so would not bring you into this grief....again.

But, I find that I can't process on my own.

And I can't verbally process with each of you.

So, I write.

I slept alone in our bed last night, and cried silent tears.

I relived the night when I was the only one who knew...other than those that found her.

It was harder than I anticipated.

Cassie put it beautifully when I talked to her yesterday.

For the past year we have been passively responding to grief. Survival. Dealing with things in waves, as they come, and then just planting our feet and standing, waiting for the waves to crash through us.

We are now moving into the next phase, I think.

An active processing of events, feelings, grief, loss....

I now know what's coming. I can run and bury it under busyness,

or I can choose to sit there, feel, process.

So, I hit the season of knowing what's coming....

The last time I saw Andrea physically.

The last time I talked to her on the phone.

The last time I had texts from her.

So many lasts....

I know what's coming.

I invite you to join me, but you surely don't have to walk through this with me. If it's too hard to watch, I get that. So many of us are fixers...and this can't be fixed.

I totally get that. That's what Andrea was trying to avoid. She didn't want to drag us into her world.

I so get that.

But, by not letting us in, there was so much more grief to bare.

So, I invite you in- if you want.

I open up my heart, lay it bare. Expose to you where I'm really at.

I invite you to cover us in prayers. That is the strength we need.

To be honest, how are you doing questions are so hard. It's a mental game of "how much do they really want to know? How much can I share without losing it?"

So, I'm honest here.

I think this next season may be more difficult for us than we know. I think the real work may be beginning.

And I'm not looking forward to it.

But, I do know this.

I am not alone.

We have a God who walks through this Valley of the Shadow of Death, not just next to us, but he carries us when we cannot take...one...more...step.

I may not feel Him in tangible ways; physically, audibly...but I have a long history with the God of the universe, who is also my Abba father.

And, when I look...I see His presence everywhere.

In Andrea's moon.

In the fall colors along the Swan.

In the verse in the church's message.

In the theme of Canvas Conference.

In the smile of the sweetest grandbaby ever....

He knows exactly where I am and what I need.

He knows.....

PS...another God-led meeting of friends. I had someone, who I attended a Co-op with 2 years ago run into me. She said she had been thinking of me and had information for a 6-week grief counseling group beginning...next week. So, yes, we will be attending.

If we are telling people they don't need to do this alone and to get help, then we need to do the same.

So, we are.