The Ferrari in the Garage

Yesterday at a gathering of family and friends on the 4th of July, someone commented to me how much they have loved these blogs I write. It was as if a little "4th of July firecracker" jolted me awake! I thanked the person for their kind words, but then remarked that I was sure it had been about two months since I'd written one. Turns out I was EXACTLY right! My last blog was dated May 4, 2026. That's precisely two months ago. I sighed and wondered how this could be and what sort of fog has had me trapped in it.

So, I spent this morning looking to the Holy Spirit to help me know what to write today. I got another notice of the passing of an old friend in my email and suddenly I knew what I should write about. There have been an inordinate number of deaths in my own personal world since my husband John went to glory. I've been sending lots of sympathy cards and praying for many who are now mourning deeply the loss of a loved one. So, since I have had a very monumental breakthrough in my own grieving process, I believe I know what to write about. I can hope and pray that a few of these things I have learned will, in turn, bless and encourage others who are struggling.

I hope no one will misunderstand what I'm about to write. Please do not think that I am not greatly missing my sweet husband, John.  It's just that I've mostly been in joyful relief that he is not here  grappling with the illness of dementia that so ravaged his mind and limited his life experiences. I rejoice that he is with His Lord and Savior whom He loved so dearly! But I began to realize that my struggle is not over the loss of John, but over the loss of ME.  I do not recognize myself anymore. I could not for the life of me understand why I seem to need 9 to 10 hours of sleep every night. I could not fathom why my brain is so covered in fog that I forget where I'm supposed to be and when!  And humbly I will share with you that when I tried to go back to what my life used to be, and traveled to another city to lead worship, I discovered that my microphone wasn't working, my keyboard stand would not snap together, and my microphone stand was flopping around like a banner in the wind! How long had it been since I had loaded that music equipment in my car and traveled somewhere to lead God's people in passionate worship?  In truth, I guess it was a very long time, and I had not given any careful attention to the condition of my equipment.

In short, I've felt like I don't know who I am anymore.  For the first year after John died, I hobbled around on two sprained ankles and battled pneumonia, IBS and K-Flu. I took a couple of road trips that were life-giving, but on arriving back home to my still, silent house, I wondered again, "who am I and what do I do?"

Now - at last I have some answers to those questions. Now I've discovered a vitally important key in learning to stop looking back at who I was - and what I lost - and look ahead to who I am becoming...

I've heard it said that our past does not define our future. And I recall the Apostle Paul's encouraging testimony, "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  I've read that scripture over a hundred times, but perhaps not till now have I needed to understand how to live it! 

Grief changes us. We are no longer the same person. Our brain chemistry is literally altered and the heaviness on our chests is literally from a broken heart.  But we EXPECT ourselves to "bounce back" to the person we once were, picking up right where we left off before our loved one departed.  I want to tell you that that most likely is not going to happen. But it does not mean that our merciful, loving God does not have a NEW plan for our future. He will not just leave us in a heap, without energy in our bodies and without memory in our brains. No!  My Bridegroom Yeshua is right here. He gently comes alongside with a gentle word of love and affirmation, and He teaches me how to give myself permission to go slower, to rest longer, and to discover who I am becoming in this next chapter of my life.  Even if this is an older, more fatigued version of Kelly, there are great possibilities ahead.  I may have "parked the Ferrari in the garage," but the old Plymouth is backing out slowly, and carrying within it a prize for which God has called me heavenward!