Well, it’s Wednesday so it’s time to add to our story.
We’re following a flashback of our main character, Samantha. The story thus far is on the blog under “Story.”
Here’s where we left off.
And despite knees in my back and an arm slung over my face, it was the best night’s sleep I had had in months…
The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I stopped in the Guidance Office at Wright State. I figured if I needed to move on, I should probably get a refresher nursing course and get my certification. While I was waiting for her, I picked up the local weekly newspaper sitting on one of the tables. By happenstance — is there ever really happenstance? — there was an ad announcing a grief counseling series at Miami Valley Hospital … the same hospital where Chad died. I wasn’t sure I could step back in there, but also knew I couldn’t go on the way I was going. So, I jotted down the number and signed up.
I had opportunities for grief counseling through the Air Force, but I knew so many military families. I just didn’t want to expose myself to people I knew.
When I walked into the chapel for the meeting, I still wasn’t really sure this was the right route to go. But when I looked around and saw the grief on my fellow travelers’ faces and heard Susan’s reassuring voice, I knew I was among friends.
It was painful. I was the rookie of the group — the youngest and the most recently widowed. I allowed the others to step up as I quietly listened. One woman nursed her husband for years battling cancer. Another lost her husband to a heart attack. A woman and her daughter lost a son and brother to suicide. A man came home from work and found his dead wife at the bottom of the stairs. When it was my turn, I offered my tale of woe and, like the others before me, through plenty of tears.
But as I drove home, it dawned on me I was blessed. I had a chance to say goodbye and I knew Chad didn’t suffer long.
Susan kept us on track, touching raw nerves and helping us understand the chaotic emotions we were going through. She played a tape of a song, Be Still by the Celebrant Singers that first night. The opening lyrics are “You’re asking me to tell you how I feel. Well, there’s an ache inside, I don’t think it will heal. But when hope is hard to see, I hear you say to me, ‘Be still and know that I am God’…” She replayed the tape at our last session and instead of the opening lyrics, our focus shifted to the closing lyrics, “…You’re asking me to tell you how I feel. Well, there’s an ache inside, But I think it will heal. “Cause when hope is hard to see, I hear you say to me, ‘Be still and know that I am God’…”
Over the years, whenever I feel myself spinning out of control, I remember those words from Psalm 46:10.
There you go, readers. Now what?
All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at firstname.lastname@example.org. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.
I hope we’re having some fun with this.
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Work while you wait. It’s easier to be patient when you’re busy than when idle.