Breathing through the Journey of Grief #3

Breathing through the Journey of Grief #3

One of our authors, Lois Hoogeveen, lost her husband in early March to a battle with cancer, which began just 3 months earlier. Jim and Lois had pastored 5 churches, 2 they planted. At the time they were hit with this disease they were transitioning into specialized transitional ministry for the next season of their full time ministry. They were and are good friends of Ascending Leaders. Through the journey with cancer, Jim and Lois wrote and shared their "breath prayers," each day. "Breath Praying" is something they had first learned seven years ago from the Ascending Leaders Christ Habits book Prayer: Listening to God's Voice.

Since Jim's passing, Lois has been continuing to write excellent reflections on this journey along with breath prayers. She has consented to allow us to share some with you.

Lois Hoogeveen

June 17, 2012

Get in line and jump off the board. These were my instructions many years ago when I took adult scaredy-cat swimming lessons. I panicked just putting my head under water and now my swim instructor told me to get on the diving board and jump into the deep end of the swimming pool. My legs shook and my heart pounded as I climbed the ladder and walked to the edge of the board. A line of swimmers were waiting for me to jump. Going back down the ladder wasn’t an option. So, I jumped in. I must add that I did not jump in alone. No. I had an empty, capped gallon milk jug in each hand. I am a survivor who can testify that a plastic milk jug full of air does, in fact, help a person pop out of the water.

Jumping off the high dive with a milk jug of air in each hand was certainly a leap of faith for me. I was not sure I would ever surface, but I chose to trust my instructor’s assurance that I would survive. The descent into the pool of widowhood has also been frightening. Many days I panicked just because my head was under water and I felt like I was drowning in the reality of this cold, deep pool. Numerous times when I thought I had made it to the shallow end, another wave of sorrow swelled and threw me back into what felt like a bottomless pit. I have had to dive into the deep end more than once as I learn how to be a solo homeowner, how to worship alone, how to fellowship without my life partner. I know that God is by my side. But, it is much easier to walk in faith when you have someone doing that with you, someone to talk to and someone with whom you can process the potential peaks and pitfalls.  Many times in our marriage we moved, by faith, into the zone of the unknown. But we did it in tandem. Now I have to do this alone.

In the late 70’s, a few years after my one and only lifetime leap into the swimming pool, I learned a song (sung by the Imperials) that has always been imbedded in my mind.

He didn't bring us this far to leave us. He didn't teach us to swim to let us drown.
He didn't build His home in us to move away. He didn't lift us up to let us down.

I have faith that God has been teaching me how to swim through the channels of life for a long time and He is not going to let me down now. My learning curve has intensified beyond my comfort zone. I have often felt like my head was under water and I could only come up for an occasional breath. However, as I look back I am surprised that I am becoming more comfortable in the middle of the pool. I have actually found myself floating occasionally and even resting on the side of the pool.

I had two incredible faith instructors whom I want to recognize today – my father and the father of my children. Both of these men did more than talk about faith, they lived by faith. No matter what was going on in life, both my dad and my husband demonstrated deep trust that God is always present to protect and provide. As I think about the way they lived their lives, I am keenly aware of the fact that faith and hope go hand in hand. You cannot have one without the other. Reflecting on what I learned from these two important men in my life, I know that God has put a jug in each of my hands, one filled with faith and one with hope, as I have been forced to dive into the deep waters of broken dreams.

My breath prayer is to live each day with FAITH. What does it mean to have faith when the canvas of my future seems blank? What does it mean to have hope when I know the course of my life is forever changed? I am pondering these questions.  As a scaredy-cat swimmer in the pool of grief, I can only say that this week I feel a little less like I am drowning and a little more like I am learning how to swim.

FAITH Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1