Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness andrivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19 NKJV
As I sit here typing this article, it is the day after Thanksgiving and I’m still stuffed from our meal. My daughter picked the menu – turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole, broccoli casserole and dinner rolls. It is the same menu we have every year. We have set aside tomorrow to decorate the tree and house – inside and out…just like we do every year. We have tickets to our town’s First Baptist Church Living Christmas Tree program…just like we do every year.
After my husband died, all of our family – except me – seemed to find comfort in maintaining as much as possible exactly what we did when he was alive. The same traditions in the same places at the same point on the calendar. As I participated, I watched the relief in their faces as we stayed the course, continued the traditions. They seemed to need to do it the same way.
For me, participating in these same activities was excruciating. At the same family gatherings, where we sat in the same chairs, I was next to the empty one. As I cooked the same menu items for the same people, I was preparing this meal alone and the person who used to sit at the head of our table when we entertained was no longer there. Decorating the house was hard because the person who used to lead us and allow us to be the helpers was no longer here.
Everywhere I looked, I longed for change or at least transition. As my first birthday without my husband came and went, I was devastated. For the first time in my life, I was older than my husband ever was and everyone still wanted to celebrate in a similar manner, “like we always do”. The first Christmas after my husband died, I insisted my daughter and I go to Disney World for Christmas. She was excited until we got on the plane and then cried. I got severe food poisoning on Christmas day in a lonely hotel in the “happiest place on earth”.
It wasn’t until I started praying about the pain I was feeling at all of these traditions that God so lovingly shared with me what I now find very comforting. Everything changes. Puppies grow into dogs. Kittens grow into cats. Babies grow into adults. Trees and flowers lose their leaves in the winter and then bloom again in the spring. The water running through stream beds is always changing. The granules of sand on the beach are constantly changing with each brush of a wave. Nothing stays the same.
When we accept Christ as our Savior, we are given a new birth; a new heart; new life. We are changed. As we grow in Christ, we are changed. Our relationships with others are constantly changing based on our shared experiences.
So, it seems we are fooling ourselves with our little “traditions”. Even those change each year. The weather may be different; people gathered together may be different; we are different because we have experienced 12 months of life since the last time we carried out the tradition. When you really examine things very closely, the only constant is Christ. He is stable, our beacon, our true North. Everything else changes.
When I realize that, I am comforted. This new life without my husband is another change. Not one I wanted, but it is what I have nonetheless. So, I can rail at how different my life is now, or embrace the change and look to Christ for my stability.
I can be open to doing things a little differently so I can continue to grow and change and I don’t have to be uncomfortable with change. With change, comes new life, and with new life, comes new possibilities. I am still here and God has a specific plan for me and it is going to be a new life with new possibilities.
Dear Lord, Change is often hard and I am so thankful that You are constant and steady. Thank You, Lord, for helping me to see that even though change is hard; new things can come. Thank You, Lord, for your patience and love. Amen
Archive: Originally posted on awidowsmight.org in January 2015