After living in my home state of West Virginia full time since 2016, I’ve begun to become familiar with the weather patterns. They are vastly different here than in Colorado. The forty years I lived there taught me to watch the far horizon for an oncoming storm. Here in West Virginia, we watch the light and listen for the sound of wind and rain in the surrounding woodlands.
The sky gets very heavy and dark before a storm here, and the low lying cloud cover scuds along rapidly. When the trees are leafed out, the leaves will actually turn over as an indicator of a coming storm. Mr. FixIt and I decided to go to the park and walk yesterday. The forecast was for rain at 7-ish. Since it was only 4:00, we thought we had plenty of time to walk before the rain. On our way to the park, there were a few drops on the windshield. But, the closer we got to 4:30, the darker it got and there were bands of darker clouds that were so low, you felt you could touch them. I turned to Mr. FixIt.
“Those clouds look pretty ominous to me,” I said, eyeing the leaves beginning to skitter across the road in front of us.
“Well, maybe we’d better duck in the Dollar General for a bit.” He pulled into the parking lot and we made a dash for the door.
We had a couple of things to pick up so we were wandering down one of the aisles when we heard a roar and the building vibrated a little. Suddenly, the lights went out and the skies opened with a fury. We were near the back of the store and we began hearing a roaring noise. The doors were blown wide open and wind blown rain was flying in. Suddenly, I remembered…I spent the afternoon out in the camper and I left the windows open! We made a dash back out to the truck and headed home. Fortunately, not much rain blew in and a little wiping up with a towel was all that was needed.
If you don’t recognize the signs, a storm so easily catches you by surprise and overtakes you. We learn that in grief, as well. I follow a lot of widowed writers on social media. There’s one particular woman whose husband passed quite suddenly some time before Christmas. She is a sweet, funny woman with a very wry sense of humor. When I read her writing, I can almost feel exactly where she is in her grieving. She makes jokes. She keeps things light. She says she is doing fine. I’ve been watching and waiting…for the next wave.
When someone is floating through…slogging through…forcing one foot in front of the other and plastering on that “I’m fine” face, it doesn’t do a bit of good to tell them about the wave that’s coming. For one thing, she will not hear me. For another thing, she will not understand the intensity of what’s to come.
“It couldn’t possibly be as bad as what I’ve already been through, can it?”
Yes, it can…worse even. But, do not lose hope with this. Because, if you face the pain, allow yourself to hear, feel, see, taste, touch every little part of it…healing begins. If you try to hold the river back with your bare hands…if you try to bale out the boat with a teaspoon, you can prolong things. At least, that is my experience.
The only way out of any situation is through it. Be a keen observer. Watch for the weather changes. When you become a “meteorologist of grief”, you can detect the signs of an impending storm. And, just like a tornado, you can batten down the hatches and be more prepared for the onslaught…even when you live in a valley and can’t see the horizon.
❤️
“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.””
Deuteronomy 31:6 ESV