I took this picture from the pier at the inlet last week. This is what happens when the incoming and outgoing tides collide. It’s such a perfect metaphor for where my heart has been lately.

I’m moving forward. My house is filling up with boxes as I prepare to start a new life in Nashville and my heart is filling up with the possibilities of someone new. So many exciting things have been happening for me in the past few months and I’m finally in a place where I can look forward to what my future holds.

At the same time, a heavy sadness has settled into my soul. All of these exciting things have happened and Jon hasn’t been here to experience them with me. Moving forward feels like saying goodbye to him again. I’m leaving the life we were living together and starting a new life without him. A life he will never know.

My heart has been turbulent as the tides of my emotions have collided. I’m not moving on from Jon. He will always be with me. Grieving for Jon will be a part of my life from now on, but I am coming to the end of my time of mourning. I am moving forward without him and that is so very hard.

It’s been nearly 16 months. I’ve moved forward in small ways, but now my entire life is about to change. As weeks turn into days before my big move I’m struggling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

I know this is the right thing to do. I’m confident that this is where God is directing me. I’m excited to start fresh.

But I’m overwhelmed at all of the things that need to be done to make this happen. I’m afraid of living in a place without a strong established support network. What if no one helps me with the kids? What if no one is willing to help me move in? I feel guilty for taking my kids away from their grandparents and family and everyone they know and love, from the only home they’ve ever known.

While I am certain that this is exactly what Jon would have wanted me to do, I still feel sad when I imagine this new life without him. He’s supposed to be here to see all of this. When the Uhaul is packed and I strike out north it feels like I will be leaving him behind and I begin to miss him all over again.

In general, I’m not one that believes in signs from those who have passed on. (Though, I absolutely don’t judge or discredit those who do.) I hear God speak to me and I have had dreams of Jon that I have felt were gifts to me from God. But when I receive any sort of sign I believe that they’ve come from God, not Jon. There is, however, one exception. God speaks to me in songs on the radio all of the time. It’s not common for me to hear Him whisper, “I’m singing this song to you.” But one day that whisper came from Jon’s voice, Jon’s presence instead. I heard him singing every word of this song to me and I’m crying now just thinking about it.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’
Lovin’ might be a mistake, but it’s worth makin’ …

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

Jon was the dancer. If there was a beat, he was moving and he could find a rhythm in anything. He used to stop me in the middle of doing the dishes and make me slow dance with him. Me on the other hand, when given the choice I would choose sit it out every time if he let me.

I’m taking so many chances in my life all at once. The living I’m choosing is a huge risk. Loving again could be a terrible mistake. But I feel like even though there is going to be pain in this process, Jon has invited me to leave the time of mourning behind and start to dance once more.

 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

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