Father, I trust You . . .

(These letters for L.O.L. were made from wood and decorated with paper and paint.)

Well, spring has definitely sprung, We had a wonderful meeting with Sylvia Evans in April. Her message emphasized that God turns our mourning into joy. He turns it, it's not something we have to do.

To performance based thinkers, like myself, this is a true revelation. It's not up to me to do it. God will. Many times I've sat on my front porch swing and cried to the Lord, "I can't do this, I don't know how." I worried if I was grieving 'right'. "Is this normal to feel like this, Lord, or am I losing my mind?" Each time, He'd encourage me to simply "Rest in faith."

This is a walk of faith. We just have to trust.

"Father, I trust You."

It's easy to say, isn't it?

I'll tell you what I used to do. I would go sit on my porch swing (even in the winter) and pour out my heart. Sometimes anxious, angry words came out. Sometimes I'd just sob. After I got out all my emotions, a calm would come, and then I'd say,

"Father, I trust You."

Often, in the beginning of my journey, that's all I could get out. Gradually I was able to pray more.

Somedays I went to the swing a dozen times. . . "Father, I trust You."

One day He asked me to start practicing gratitude. At first, I couldn't think of much, but I guess that's why He said, "Practice." It was an exercise I had to rehearse. I started with "thank you for this morning air, thank you for my coffee." It almost seemed silly to me. I soon discovered that the simple task of listing all the things I was grateful for changed my inner climate. And I realized, as I kept placing my trust in Him, and verbalizing my blessings, things began to turn.

As the months, and years, have passed, I'm amazed at the things He's taught me about walking with grief. It's a process for sure. Don't be hard on yourself. Just take one day at a time.

Remember, you are not alone.