The process by which Good Grief?!? came into being was just that…a very long, difficult process. It started with the death of my first wife and meandered through the dark mire of confusion, pain, and grief of which no one is really prepared. It took nearly 2.5 years to write.
When I sat across from Carolyn on what I hoped was our “first date,” I asked her to paint the cover scene of my soon to be published book. God had given me a clear picture in my head the day before and I was excited to find out that He’d given her the same picture. (Some day soon, I’ll post about that first date!) I had no idea that progression of the cover picture would show the process of grief and my book in stages.
It began with a fog. The trepidation of not knowing what was lurking in the fog is similar to the trepidation of looking into the heart of fear and wondering what horrific thing awaits along the road I must travel.
As death lurks, the breath of life is gone. The beauty of life is gone. The color of life is gone. “What’s hiding behind that next tree?” “What could be waiting for me at the end of this path?” “Why must I travel this path… seemingly alone?!?” Questions that bring anxiety and stir up more fear.
Hope only happens when we turn our eyes toward God’s promises. And, just like life, those promises sprout up near the end of the path, illuminating the world, while driving much of the fog and darkness away. Just a bit of Hope seems to bring with it the light that previously was absent.
Through the witness of a few different family and friends, I was reminded that the story I’d lived was one to help others find that hope amongst the terrors of the walk through grief.
It was also at that time when I knew life had to begin living again. I couldn’t continue to walk numbly through everything. God gave me a new job. God paved the road for Micah to go to college. And God was beginning to pick up the pace of life again. The dreary was slowly departing, not completely, just slowly.
Once a few of those promises come into sight, the darkness recedes even more, and true sight begins to take form. The path gets clearer and easier to follow. The looming question of the fog no longer is in view. Yes, death is still present, but the pain brings memories of beauty, the memories of warm laughter, and the memories of hope begin to take shape. You realize that the memories are a gift. Yes, they are often painful, but God turns pain into beauty quite regularly. If that’s a hard pill to swallow, contemplate childbirth.
The day before our “first date,” after having purchased the “Streets of Gold” painting, I woke to a clear picture of a man walking down a path through trees in Fall, leaves of all colors and shades. My heart heard it as plain as day: “Thom, grief is like Fall.” God’s whisper might as well have been shouting. It all made sense.
In the Fall, when the leaves turn, our world erupts in beauty. The once beautifully bright, vibrant world becomes more cozy as leaves turn to darker shades of reds, and oranges, and yellows.
The work of grief is hard. It’s time consuming. And, I’ll clue you in on a secret people don’t like to talk about…it doesn’t just go away after a few days or weeks or months…the season of grief, like the season of Fall, stays around for what sometimes feels like an eternity.
When the trees release their pretty charges, our yards are filled with a beautiful mess. I’d never thought of it that way before God showed me the picture for the cover of the book. If we want our yard to be healthy, and the neighbors to not hate us, we take the time to rake the leaves. Then there’s the task of getting rid of them. It’s hard work, but at the end of the day, there is satisfaction.
We go to bed knowing we worked hard, but we took a shower and went to bed. When we wake up, we find that there are a few leaves that have wandered into our well manicured lawn. It’s a bit irritating, but we quickly pick them up so that our home looks pretty again, so no onlookers see anything out of place.
A couple days go by, a windstorm alights in the night, and we wake to more leaves on the ground than when we initially raked leaves at the beginning of Fall. It’s seemingly a never ending cycle, never knowing how many leaves we might have to deal with when we wake in the morning, or come home from work, or see swirling while we stare out the window during dinner.
Those leaves are like memories of our dearly departed. They are beautiful and rich with color. But they are also decaying, falling around us, causing painful work to be done.
When I shared my vision for the cover of Good Grief?!? with Carolyn, she understood it immediately and the picture in her mind was instant. Had she stopped at the above picture, I would have been happy. It would have been missing someone, but it would still carry the metaphor. When I saw the end product (below), it was as if I’d stepped into a vacuum of time and sound.
I was overwhelmed and instantly in tears.
When Carolyn unveiled the final picture, I felt like the horse blinders had been removed and I could understand more of the message God was using us both to portray, one in black and white print, and one in vivid brush strokes.
I was the one in the picture! Not a random man. Me. ME! That is actually my shadow walking in that picture.
The irony is not lost on me. I teach English to Middle Schoolers. Irony is part of my daily language.
It had never dawned on me that the person I “saw” walking through the grove of Fall trees was me. I often, like many romantics, look at the world with a bit of rose colored glasses. Why insert my actual image? That might tarnish the picture. That might awaken more pain. That might be a little too much reality. I’m sure that sounds absurd, especially since I’m the one who walked through the season of grief written about in the book.
I can’t imagine what you’re thinking right now… I had never let myself be part of this space before (the space of oncoming blessing), yet I’ve encouraged many others to do just that…I mean…I’ve had a relationship with Abba God for a very long time. I know how good the God of Creation is. I know how much our Father God wants to bless us, I’m a father myself. I know how good Heaven/blessing sounds, but I’ve always pictured myself as a stable boy, worthy to only clean the stables of Heaven, and happy to be allowed to have the opportunity.
I stood for a beat. Then the tears began to roll.
Looking at the finished painting for the first time, it dawned on me that “I” was walking into the sunrise… into Streets of Gold. I wasn’t walking into death. I was walking away from it into the life that is brought with Spring. Me. Carolyn didn’t paint me at the bottom of the picture, just entering a dark and dreary Fall, with Winter in the background.… and she had painted ME!
When I first showed “Streets of Gold” to one of my best friends, she said to me, “Thom, look at the leaves.”
“I know,” I said, eyes downcast, looking at the ground covering.
“No, not those leaves,” she said. “Those are blessings God’s already given you. Look at the ones in the trees!”
Time seemed to stop. The ground covering seemed like a meager amount to the limb packed trees!
I’m still struggling to wrap my head around all this. If the leaves on the ground represent the miracles I’ve seen while walking with Abba God through many decades, the lifelong friends He’s paired my life with, the nearly 19 years of a marriage to Amy, 3 beautiful souls who call me dad, an incredible career, and many more things too numerous to talk about here, and that number pales in light of the blessings to come?!? Peace. The book. New life and new love. Carolyn. A future with my boys and the families God intends for them. Prior to the day I first saw the finished picture for the book, I’d never before felt this loved by LOVE Himself! I’d never really known Abba had blessed me and love me that much. I had just claimed it as a promise… that one day I’d finally FEEL like I hope my boys feel about me as their dad.
The book has finished the first editorial round. There are about 10 weeks before Good Grief?!? will arrive in stores on real and virtual shelves to be purchased, and it finally feels like it’s actually happening. Thank you for walking this journey with me!
Do you remember seeing kids running around in the summer, running till they were dripping with sweat and then drinking for a garden hose? The water was always so cold. So refreshing. However, it’s not a sight often seen since the 80’s. (I’ve just really dated myself!)
At 4:15 p.m., Pacific Standard Time, I officially became a professional author! It has been a long journey. I appreciate your prayers, your support, and your comments to my blog and my Faceboo
“Micah, why’d you skip so much school already?” a boy in one of his classes asked him that day. They knew each other from the previous semester, but they weren’t really friends. (Micah had transferred from a private school to an Arts focused, option, public school in the middle of his junior year, and it had been rough.
It was 5:46 a.m. The alarm on my phone had been going off for over a minute. It was the first day of the second week of school – a Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I was a bit disoriented, having slept in the recliner downstairs. Trying to find the obnoxious chirping emanating from the misplaced SMART phone took about a minute, maybe a little less. I’d left the phone on the kitchen table. Connecting with it, I flipped it over, ended the silence murdering noise, and placed the phone where it should have been…on the counter, next to the charging station.
Good Grief?!? 