The question that I can't answer....

I have discovered that I don't really know how to the answer the question "How are you?"  I don't really know how I am.  I guess I am okay.  I think I may be fine.  Okay, I am not really that okay or fine.  Right now I just am.  And that is about all I can tell you.  

Here is my story from today, that will give you a bit of an insight into my state of mind.  This morning I turned on the TV but then didn't really watch it.  I set about the various tasks that I needed to accomplish this morning.   I started some laundry, loaded and ran the dishwasher, made my grocery list and checked the ads to "price match", took some items to the recycle bin that was already at the curb for today's pickup, straightened up the living room, checked my bank balance and recorded some online payments.  It was at this point that I got ready to leave the house.  So I went to shut off the TV (which had been on all morning).  I could not find the remote ANYWHERE.  I tore apart the living room looking for it.  I looked under and in every piece of furniture.  I moved everything.  I knew that I had just had that remote to turn the TV ON!  It had to be somewhere.  Well, I spent the next 40 minutes looking for the remote.  I even shut off the dishwasher and looked inside to make sure that I didn't put it in there.  I checked the garbage can (thankfully it was basically empty since today is trash day). And then I remembered that I had taken some grocery ads to the recycle bin at the curb.  I ran outside and yes, there was the remote mixed in with the papers.  That is how absent minded and distracted I feel right now.  Ken said the worst part of losing the remote would have been having to reprogram the new one!  I agree.

Yes, grief and loss is a very odd thing to deal with.  There are times that I say I am okay, but then I realized just how scattered I really am.  It is hard to concentrate on much of anything right now.  Today I picked up one of my "old favorite" devotional books... "Psalms Now".  And I turned to Psalm 56.  I love the way it reads in this version....

"Even as I groan in complaint, O Lord, I know that this is your course for me. Truly O God I have nothing to lose, for it is in losing that I truly find that which is of everlasting value.

You are aware of my frustrations, my feelings of emptiness, and loneliness, You have promised to replenish my vessel, to make me a channel of your everlasting springs.  I am in debt, O Lord, to suffering humanity around me. 

I must be emptied again and again only to be filled from your boundless resources and then to pour out once more your blessings upon those who need.

You have delivered me from the wasteland of need.  Therefore I dedicate myself anew to the task of channeling your gifts to the parched lives of others."

I especially like the bolded part.  Jesus knows my frustrations, my emptiness and my loneliness.  I needed to remember that this morning.   When I can't express how I am doing, I am so glad that I don't have to explain how I am to Jesus.  He just knows.  And the amazing part of this Psalm reading is that reminder that Jesus is filling me up.  Not just so I don't feel empty anymore, but so His presence and power can flow out of me to those around me.

That really puts a different spin on everything doesn't it?  I don't have to know how I am right now.  I don't have to explain.  What I do know is that Jesus is filling me up with his presence and his power and his love, so that I can let that flow out of me to those around me.  And we all need to have more of Jesus right now.  So if you have asked me "how are you?" and I have given you a puzzled look, I hope you understand a bit better.  My new answer to that question is going to be  "I am getting filled up with Jesus!"

Jesus, thank you for understanding exactly where I am right now.  Thank you for your great love and care.  Holy Spirit, thank you for filling me up each and every day.   Help us to be patient with ourselves as we walk through this time of grief and help others to understand.  Amen