Headaches and Heartaches-The Gift That Keeps on Giving

I've been overwhelmed and a bit lost lately. I wish someone would have a book on how to deal with assets and liabilities after someone dies. It is extremely difficult to focus on stuff that I know I need to deal with now. Anyone who has been following this blog religiously knows that I've just come out of a tremendous financial crisis and have been struggling for a very long time to find sustainable work.

The fact is that although I'm in better shape than I  was two months ago when I was on the brink of financial ruin, I'm still far from okay. Dealing with the stress of having to find sustainable work while juggling other important responsibilities is no fun. Yes, I know. People are literally screaming at me to do something. I'm trying. Some days I feel like I'm being literally torn apart. The grief counselors say this is normal. I don't feel normal. I feel like running away and forgetting everything.

I know what I want. I want stability. Unstable environments make me queasy. Admittedly right now I'm scared. The heartache of losing the stable presence of my parents has rocked my world. My head is hurting from the many tasks that I've let go and have been pressured to complete. Some have even threatened me with a future monetary loss. I can't deal with this now. I need to step back and make rational decisions about what my new normal will look like and how I will move forward in my life.

I do know that God's got my back. He has been with me all along helping me in ways that I'm only now beginning to realize. Yes, some days I am anxious about what's next for me. The longing for a stable position grows daily. I also know that God's timing is perfect. I do need to wait for his direction and not go off "half-cocked." His gift of salvation is the gift that keeps on giving long after we leave this world. I still question the reasons why he allowed my father to suffer as he did, yet released my mother after a week's time.

I know that he questioned it too. I know that he didn't want to be confined to that hospital bed. He was hoping against hope that he would get better. I knew though that he wouldn't. It was a heartache I lived with for months. Now I can say goodbye knowing that I will see him again.