03/13/2026
I am struggling tonight.
I’m sure that the way I started my morning has fueled this but I had to work on the lecture 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.
I made a decision this morning to choose joy for my day and not loss. And yet the devil has no new tricks…he goes straight for the jugular when he knows there is a weak spot there.
I have said “The joy of the Lord is my strength” as a declaration more times today than I care to admit.
Even when you can’t feel it, He’s working.
This is an art piece - I say piece because I think I will resin these three to some type of tray, to remain stationary for the intended effect. For the poignancy of the moments it captures.
I’ve told you I don’t typically name my art. (If I did, it would probably be something like “Myrtle” or “Jedidiah” because I’m weird like that.)
This time, though, I did (again.)
I’m calling it “A Triptych of Grief.”
(I chose “An Anthology of Grief” but Goggle said Triptych is more accurate since there are only three pieces.)
The black, dark one…that’s the beginning. The pieces inside are mostly dead. Shriveling. They’re withered and broken off. Her heart is there…beating but clearly broken. There is sand in her feet because they are weighed down. She doesn’t want to go anywhere, do anything. She feels like she is slogging through quicksand anyway, sinking even as she tries to rise up. People think she shouldn’t use her voice but it is the only thing she has left that makes her feel…here…real…alive.
The gold, center one…she is dark but she’s light. There is so much growth. God has a hold of her, but she still slumps because sometimes the stretching required feels like just too much. She’s well acquainted with Grief…they’ve learned to coexist, and yet not be friends. Each living in spite of the other. She is too dark yet to be healed…but she shimmers somehow. She feels Him (God working) in the waiting, and yet still misses him (the object of her loss) so much. Time moves fast and slow at the same time.
The final one…Light reflects off of her. She has hurt and healed, hurt and healed, hurt and healed. She still wouldn’t choose the loss…ever…but she is beginning to understand who she is supposed to be in the aftermath of it all. Because she finally leans into it instead of fighting it, there is a glow, an incandescence of sorts, that emanates from her spirit. She is ready. She has given her full yes. She knows that her relationship with Grief, no matter how it shattered her, broke her, was - in and of itself - part of the healing. It was part of the redemption of her. There can be no mosaic without breaking. Maybe she would rather have been whole…or maybe a different whole came in spite of the schemes of the devil to steal, kill, and destroy.
There has been no destruction. Stealing? Killing? Yes. Destruction? No. The Joy of the Lord is her strength.
The Joy of the Lord is my strength.