For the past 10 years of our 36 year marriage, my husband
and I have slept in different rooms. I resisted that for several years, but
finally we decided we really had to sleep apart if either of us were to sleep
well—I snored, his legs twitched. I cried myself to sleep, pouring out my heart
to God, alone in what had been our bedroom, for the first four days. On the
fifth morning, I woke up with the thought:
“There are some advantages to this.”
I went to the paint store and found a deep red for the walls.
Wide white crown molding joins the red walls to the off-white ceiling. On a
trip to an Illinois river town, I found a cotton lace valance. Because I needed
to only please myself, I could decorate in a style I liked. What I grieved,
the warm closeness, we actually do more of since we sleep apart. We snuggle
and pray every morning and night in a way we didn’t when we slept together.
Sometimes the outcomes we most resist have unforeseen
blessings. When we grieve our losses, God uses his endless creativity to redeem
that pain. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” is a call
to grieve fully. If I’d stayed angry and sad and kept that to myself rather
than crying out to God on those first four nights, would I have seen the
possibilities? I wonder. God meets us in our honest grief.
Father, at the right times and in the right ways, help us to
mourn our losses. Amid those losses, may we see your possibilities.