This is a weird time for me.

I can’t explain what is happening inside of me. I am still grieving, and I miss Jon as much as I ever have.

I don’t know what to do with all this leftover love I have for him. It’s confusing to me. Where is the outlet? I love my children differently. I love them as much, but differently. I don’t know what to do with all this leftover love, despite that.

I’m leaving it at the alter, because I don’t know what else to do with it. I still love him as much as I ever did. I still wish I could have him next to me, as I have before.

But something inside me is changing. I am seeking God with everything I have. I can’t help it. Suddenly, it’s the only thing I can tolerate on the radio, the tv or to even talk about. If I’m not talking about Jon, I’m talking about my faith. I’m explaining it, and trying to explain it to myself.

It’s…interesting, to say the least.

When I said a few weeks ago that I am not the same person I was when Jon was still alive, I didn’t realize what I was changing into. While I am in deep, overwhelming pain, I am also excited. I feel like God is doing something in me. I can’t explain it, but I’m curious to see what I will be like a year from now, and a year from then.

And I still miss my husband. I may be healing, but he is never far from my thoughts or my heart. In fact, I cannot stop thinking of him. But I am also focusing on God, too. I feel like…I have things to do. I hope so. Having a purpose for all of this pain would be greatly encouraging, and I wouldn’t have that nagging thought that I’m just trying to make sense of what I’m going through.

It’s not that I don’t believe that God doesn’t have a plan. I know He does. But it early in my grief. It seems like I should be better prepared for the footsteps that I am walking. I know – I don’t make any sense. But I’m trying to. I’m trying to figure everything out, and at the same time, trust that God won’t leave me stranded on this planet without Him.

Yesterday was bad. I thought of suicide and it almost sounded good. Just to rest, because I can’t sleep.

But I could never do that to my girls. And I fought those thoughts, because I know better. I know that I’ll go when I am supposed to, and not before.

So I’m waiting. I’m waiting on God, and I’m waiting for my heart to accept what my mind struggles to believe.

I’m still a grieving widow, with two small children and an entire life to live. I learning how to do that. Maybe that’s what God’s doing to me. He’s teaching me how to survive.

Praise the Lord.