After Reggie died, I didn’t want to live in a world without him. I just felt like I had to.
For me, God made two decisions that I had to live with: (1) God decided it was time to take Reggie to Heaven, and (2) God decided to leave me here. God could’ve taken me too, but He didn’t. Apparently, it wasn’t my time.
Since God isn’t the author of confusion (1 Corinthians 14:33), God understood what He was doing when He left me here. I was confused. I didn’t know what God was doing during that season of my life, but I did know that God knew.
I didn’t know what God was doing during that season of my life, but I did know that God knew.
I had accepted that God knows what He is doing even when I don’t know long before I met Reggie. So, accepting that He knew in this instance was already part of my belief system.
I didn’t have to like it to know it. In fact, I didn’t like it—not one bit. I didn’t want it, but I also was quite familiar with the concept of not liking or wanting something that God allowed, but living with it anyway.
My Mother’s Example
You see, it is a well-known bit of family lore that learning at the age of 38 that she was pregnant with me did not initially fill my mother with untold enthusiasm. My mother already had four children (two boys and two girls) and her youngest had just started kindergarten. She had just gotten half her day back and was looking forward to getting the other half the following year.
My mother simply had plans that didn’t include nighttime feedings, diaper changes, and spit-up.
Instead, she was looking forward to large blocks of free time, free from the demands of someone else’s schedule—not her children’s or her husband’s for that matter. In other words, she had plans that quite frankly, didn’t include me—at least not at first.
At that point in her life, my mother didn’t want another baby. However, as my mother is apt to point out, though she didn’t want me in the beginning, she always loved me. Thus, I grew up with the knowledge that I wasn’t initially wanted, but I was always loved.
Growing up with these truths contributed mightily to my ability to accept Reggie’s death and living without him as quickly as I did.
Accepting my life without Reggie isn’t wanting a new life, but it’s a step. Acceptance is often the pivotal step from looking back (grieving) to looking forward (beginning to live again). And once you take that step, the next steps come easier, and eventually, you build momentum. It all begins with that first step.
Acceptance is often the pivotal step on our journeys through life-altering events from looking back (grieving) to looking forward (beginning to live again). And once you take that step, the next steps come easier, and eventually, you build momentum. It all begins with that first step.
So, wherever you are on your journey, whatever God is challenging you to accept (For me, it was a loss, but for my mother, it was a gain—me), I hope you are able to take a step. Whether your first step, your pivotal step, or your next step, I hope you take a step. If not today, one day soon…