Anneliese Dalaba's Blog

Grief and Joy, a Podcast

For the first time in my life, I was on a podcast. I’m smiling and shaking my head as I write this because I never imagined doing such a thing. God keeps opening doors and stretching me. I want to submit to His plans.

I was deeply honored when singer, speaker, songwriter, humorist, and author of “Suebiquitous” (the book) and podcast, Sue Duffield, invited me to join her on her podcast. Sue offers fun and spiritually uplifting material that entertains as it inspires and blesses.

My husband and I were friends with Sue and Jeff, her husband, since before our wedding day. She is such a wonderful person to hang out with, and I’m pretty sure the only thing she loves more than spending time with God, is spending time with people. (Of course, “people” has to include her children and grandbabies.) So, when she asked me to share about grief and the holidays on her podcast, I knew we would be able to share from the heart and, despite the sad topic, we would also end up laughing together.

If you’d like to listen to this presentation and/or pass it on to someone you know who might benefit from it, click on the image below.

Christmas Through Grief-Filled Eyes

All the lights, music, laughter, and good cheer of the season felt like a distant memory never to be recaptured on that first Christmas without my husband. Could this holiday ever delight me again as it had before my loss? Was Christmas ruined forever?

I came through a year of dealing with my loss, and I found myself approaching this Christmas through new eyes. I decorated my artificial evergreen with glass balls and ribbons. Multiple mini-lights twinkle and shine brightly outside my house for all my neighbors to see, but the ache for what I lost continues to gnaw. Late one evening, I walked past my living room, where the Christmas tree stands by the front window. It was dark outside, and I had forgotten to turn on the switch to light up the tree. How strange. You see, I always made certain those lights were on to greet Curt when he drove up after a grueling day at the office. I wanted him to feel the warmth of home even before he entered. When he walked through the doors, with the smells of Christmas wafting in the air and carols softly playing in the background, I would greet him with a kiss and tell him how happy I was to have him home. But without that incentive, I stood in the dark front room, flipped on the lights of the tree late that evening, and looked out at the empty driveway where his car would never park again.

I turned my gaze to the dark sky and asked the question for the hundreth time, “Why?” I wasn’t looking for an answer. It was more of a declaration of grief. I’d been doing so well, experiencing days on end without tears. I had continued to move forward. But with Christmas upon us, memories and melancholic emotions were rising to the surface again. It’s normal, I know, but I don’t want to stay there. The Bible says, “We do not grieve like those who have no hope.” What is that hope we have? We have the hope of deliverance from our weaknesses, frailties, and sins and the promise of eternity with Christ. But how does that help me now in my grief? As I pondered this, I asked God to comfort me again, and that is what He did.

God helped me see that if Christ had never come to earth and died on the cross, there would never have been a reunion for Curt and me. We were doomed for eternal separation from God—an eternity in hell. That was our destiny. If Christ hadn’t come and died and rose again, September 25, 2020, would have been my final farewell from Curt. I would have to live here knowing I could never see him again. There would not have been any songs of worship to God around Curt’s death bed, only tears, agony, and despair.

But on that glorious and holy night, when our Savior was born, hope entered this world. The powers of darkness—Satan and his demons—trembled at His arrival. They had to find a way to kill this baby. He couldn’t have the opportunity to grow. They schemed and planned. They killed and destroyed, but they could not stop God’s plan. A helpless child with parents of no great significance could not be harmed by the rulers of earth or the powers of darkness when God protected them. His plan was to save souls and offer mankind an unimaginably amazing future for all eternity, and He would not be defeated. What Satan stole in the garden, God returned to us in a manger and on a cross.

As I stood before the Nativity scene in my living room, I looked at the Christ child with new eyes, and my heart swelled with unspeakable joy. Because of that holy night, I will see Curt again. We didn’t say goodbye forever. Because God came to earth and dwelt among us, died, and rose again, there will be a reunion for all of us with our loved ones. I will one day fall on my knees before my Savior with Curt kneeling beside me, and we will raise our voices in worship to Jehovah God Almighty, the Savior of the world.

No, Christmas will never be the same again. How can it? So much has changed. But I celebrate Christmas with a deeper appreciation because of my loss. I value the worth of His gift to me with greater understanding. Like the shepherds and wise men who came and worshiped their Savior, I bend my knees and lift my hands in worship to my Lord this Christmas season.

Thank you, Lord, for my salvation.
Thank you, Lord, for a promised reunion.
Thank you that life doesn’t end here.
Thank you for all eternity with You.

After all these years of attending church during the Christmas season, I have heard and read the verses in Isaiah 9 countless times. Many Christmas greeting cards contain these words. But it’s not enough that I hear or read what the prophet said. Only when I take the time to meditate on this powerful prophecy will faith grow in my heart.

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity. The passionate commitment of the LORD of Heaven’s Armies will make this happen!

Isaiah 9:6-7 NLT

When I joined Curt in marriage, he made a commitment to me, He meant what he said and I trusted his promise to me. He remained faithful to his vows to his last breath. Imagine how much more we can depend upon the “passionate commitment of the LORD of Heaven’s Armies.” He promised us eternity with Him, and He will do.

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me.
There is more than enough room in my Father’s home.
If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?
When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.
And you know the way to where I am going.”

John 14:1-4 NLT

Even while grieving, may the true meaning of Christmas fill your heart with hope and joy.
There will be a glorious reunion.

Book Review – Walking In My Shoes

I recently finished reading Elizabeth Mittlestaedt’s inspiring story in Walking In My Shoes. In a small Hungarian village where her family had lost most of their possessions when a communist party took over their country after World War II, is the setting of her childhood. Her family of eleven lived in near poverty. But Elizabeth had dreams of achieving more and longed to pursue higher education to attain those goals, yet circumstances held her bound. The craving for freedom and a better life had gripped her, and wouldn’t let go, so she took matters into her own hands, resulting in devastating consequences.

But her life didn’t end there. God had a plan, and no obstacle could stop her as long as Elizabeth’s heart yielded to Him. Her obedience brought her more than she could ever have imagined.

This book will take you on a journey where you will experience Elizabeth’s challenges, defeats, and triumphs. You will discover how a dream that flickered in the heart of a young girl, came to life years later, and impacted thousands upon thousands of women in Europe and other parts of the world.

As I read Elizabeth’s story, I wondered how one person could bear so much hardship. But I continued reading and discovered how God uses our sufferings to enable us to become everything He wants us to be. Nothing we face in this life is wasted when we relentlessly trust God. We may not understand why we are going through something, but everything will become beneficial in some way when we keep our eyes on Him.

An easy life should never be our goal or expectation. Instead, a life of service to others that will bring glory to our Heavenly Father is what defines a successful life. Elizabeth has lived that kind of life that honors her Creator. Even from the seat of a wheelchair or while suffering chronic pain, she extended her hand to countless women, offering them hope and inspiration to do the same. This well-written book will grip readers from the begining, lead them through the twists and turns of Elizabeth’s life, and incite them to discover greater potentional in their own lives.

Elizabeth Mittelstaedt

Elizabeth Mittelstaedt is the founder of Lydia—a Christian magazine for women, currently published in German, Hungarian, and Romanian. She is also the founder of the unparalled “Hope for Europe—Women in Leadership” conferences, which linked arms with the Lausanne Committee for World Evangelization and the World Evangelical Fellowship Commission of Women’s Concerns. For over a decade, Elizabeth led these groundbreaking training events, galvanizing and uniting women in both Eastern and Western Europe so they would take leadership in their own countries. She was recognized by the International Biographical Centre in Cambridge as one of the “Outstanding People of the 20th Century.” Elizabeth and her husband, Ditmar, lived and ministered in Germany for forty years, but now made their home in California.

Entering the Second Year

I took a break from blogging my journey as I approached the first anniversary of Curt’s passing and entered the second year of my grief journey. Before I share more, let me say that everyone’s grief journey is not the same. I think a lot has to do with personality, the depth of the relationship you lost, and how vital that person was to your happiness in this life. So, my story might be very different from your story.

As the first anniversary approached, I braced myself for it. More than the 25th, which was the actual day of Curt’s departure at 3 a.m, I dreaded the 24th of September when they moved Curt to palliative care. As the anniversary approached, I had flashbacks of that painful day. I can’t think of one thing that was harder than something else on the 24th. It was a day of heartbreak from beginning to end.

Cancer is vicious, and it unexpectedly robs you of the time you thought you still had. Curt wanted to say more but lost the ability to do so. I wanted to say more, but shock kept the words bottled up and wouldn’t release them. We wanted this valley of the shadow of death to end. But my children and I clung to each moment, not wanting Curt to depart. We couldn’t have both. This year as the 24th approached, all these images plagued me, especially as I lay in my bed at night. I could still picture that room, the nurse, the lack of beeping machines because there was no need to sustain life. It was time to let go.

Hoping to make the first anniversary more bearable for ourselves, my children, grandchildren, and I chose to vacation in Florida, far from Michigan and all the painful memories. Curt’s parents and sister live in Florida, so we were able to visit with them also, which was a precious time for all of us. We purposely shared happy memories of Curt with each other and made wonderful new memories. It gave us much joy to recall the many precious and funny moments with Curt. We laughed, and sometimes we wiped tears away, but whatever the emotion at the moment, the longing for what we lost never left our hearts.

Now I’m almost one month into my second year without Curt. Is it less painful than the first? So far, I can’t say that it is. It’s just different. I don’t cry as much as last year, especially those first six months of endless tears. But the fact that Curt isn’t coming back is sinking in like never before. And the length of my life stretches out disappointingly long into my future. Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t have a death wish. I’m still here, so my work isn’t done, and God has more for me to learn and do.

The grief journey is complicated and complex. For most of us, the pain doesn’t end after one year. I’ve talked to widows who told me it took them seven and even eight years or longer. I was privileged to visit with a widow who lost her husband over 40 years ago. What a blessing she was to me. Her eyes filled with tears as she talked about him. You never stop missing someone you loved deeply. No matter where life takes you, your heart cannot forget the one who embodied most of your happiness. When I came across the following meme on Instagram, I had to share it with my readers.

Thank God I’m doing much better today than at the beginning. But the waves of grief still come unexpectedly. Seemingly out of nowhere, the longing becomes intense — to feel Curt’s hand in mine, look into his eyes, hear his words of encouragement, sit quietly together or have a deep conversation, take a long walk together. The list goes on and on. Of course, such a loss will not disappear in one year. Honestly, I might never receive complete healing until heaven, but I’m okay with that. I have God, and with Him as my partner, I can make it through anything. Grief doesn’t diminish, but God helps us to grow around our grief.

Paul’s words, so often quoted, ring truer to me than ever before. “For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13 NLT

When I felt weak during the first year of my grief journey, I asked God for strength. When I felt lonely, I asked Him to fill the loneliness, not with another person, but with Himself. I asked Jesus to be my partner now. It wasn’t something I did only once, but over and over again.

“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7

It only makes sense that if I allow Jesus to be my partner, I will desire what He desires. And what Jesus longs for is that everyone will spend eternity with Him. He wants me to do my part to rescue the perishing. But my world has become so much smaller without Curt. In my opinion, Curt would have done a better job of telling people about Jesus. His sphere of influence was farther. His abilities and Scriptural understanding exceeded mine exponentially. But who am I to question God’s wisdom. So, I continue with my tasks.

At the end of August and early September, I helped my daughter and her family move from Connecticut to Massachusetts. As I filled the boxes with their necessities and treasures, my mind swept back to when Curt and I packed our belongings to move from New Jersey to Michigan, then Michigan to Germany, and then several more moves after that. Curt was an organized person. He taught me much about packing. I thought of how fun it would be if he were here to help us with this move. Curt would have had us laughing because he could find humor in almost any situation. I miss that about him.

While packing in Connecticut, I had earphones in my ears so I wouldn’t disturb my daughter working virtually in the other room for her job. I listened to YouTube as several Christians shared their near-death experiences. There was one common thread that stood out to me in each of their stories. In their life review, the only thing that seemed to matter to Jesus were the things people had done to help others. The unnoticed acts of kindness, the words that brightened someone’s day — basically, love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23) By serving others, we please God. Didn’t Jesus illustrate this for us when he washed the disciples’ feet?

After washing their feet, he put on his robe again and sat and asked, “Do you understand what I was doing? You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and you are right, because that’s what I am. And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.

John 13:12-15

It’s much less complicated than I had thought. If I want to please my Lord, I must serve the ones Jesus has placed in my life. It’s that simple and that difficult because serving requires dying to myself. I have found that often when the opportunity arises to serve, the timing is lousy. I have to stop what I’m doing for the benefit of someone else. I’m required to have a servant’s heart.

Last week, I took my dog for a walk. He’s a mostly black, fun-loving, 15-pound, nine-year-old Yorkipoo named Scooter. As we walked through our neighborhood, a long-haired dachshund rushed toward us, leash dangling from his collar and his owner giving chase. I knew that dog. He’s the one who bit my dog in the past. His owner didn’t stand a chance of reaching him before he got to us. Wanting to protect my dog, I lifted him into my arms and started running toward his owner, hoping the lady could grab his leash. I wasn’t afraid he’d bite me. He had an issue with Scooter, not me. Unfortunately, my “big idea” (as my grandson would say) wasn’t so great. The dachshund ran in front of me and wrapped his leash around my legs. I felt myself falling in the middle of the road, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. As fast as I landed, I stood back up again. I had lost my grip on Scooter, and now the dogs were growling at each other. I didn’t bother pulling Scooter away but let him fight his own battle, which he did valiantly with his snarls. It seemed neither dog dared attack. It was like they were sizing each other up to see who was strongest or whose growl was biggest.

At that point, the owner finally arrived and grabbed her dog’s leash. She apologized profusely. I assured her I only had some minor scrapes, nothing worth mentioning. She continued apologizing, so I placed a hand on her arm and told her again, “Please, don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” I felt compassion for her because I imagined how awful and embarrassed I’d feel if that had happened to me. We parted ways, and I continued my walk.

Although the scrape on my elbow, hand, and knee burned, I felt unexplainable joy. Why, I didn’t know. I reviewed what had just happened, trying to make sense of my elated emotions. Soon the answer came. God was pleased with how I had responded to this lady in my neighborhood. I don’t know anything about her life. I only know which house she lives in, that she’s married, and has at least two sons. Yet God knows every detail of her life, and He loves her. It pleased Him that I had responded to her with patience and love. And I felt God speak to my heart that this is how He wants to use me in His Kingdom. By loving the people with whom I rub shoulders and come into contact. That is the work I must do.

I guess I had to get scraped up to be in a position for God to show me and help me to understand my calling. Only heaven will reveal how our lives impacted those around us.

I will close this blog with a song, Yet Not I But Through Christ In Me. (Click on the song title below.) A dear friend sent it to me this week. No matter what you are going through, the path is easier — more doable, if you stay close to Jesus.

Yet Not I But Through Christ In Me

My Birthday, Another First

Unlike most people, I looked forward to turning sixty. I longed for it. I would be that much closer to retirement. Curt and I had such plans. We even hoped to co-author a book. But God, in His wisdom, called Curt home, and I had to face my 59th year alone. So, as my birthday approached, I dreaded the date. Curt wasn’t here to celebrate this milestone with me. It now felt anti-climatic.

The morning of my birthday, I lay awake in bed with my eyes shut. A memory filtered into my thoughts. It happened on a Sunday afternoon over 35 years ago. My family had enjoyed lunch around our dining room table with our pastor in attendance, who happened to be Curt. Of course, we had no idea what the future had in store. He was just a new friend.

After lunch, while my mom puttered around in the kitchen and everyone had gone their own way, Curt and I sat at the dining room table playing a game of Scrabble. Most of the tiles were on the board. We each had only a couple more tiles to play. An X lay just two spaces from a triple word square. It was Curt’s turn.

I had a dilemma. Curt was ahead of me by several points, and my two remaining tiles were an S and an E. Did I dare use the word ‘sex’ to win the game? I mean, this was my pastor—a single, good-looking man. On the other hand, that one word would turn the game in my favor. Of course, maybe Curt would take that spot and remove the temptation. I sat with bated breath to see what he would do.

Unaware of the battle going on in my head, Curt took his turn. He placed his tiles far from the X.

It was my turn. I looked at my tiles for just a moment longer. If I threw caution to the wind, I’d gain 30 points and win the game. The competitive side of me plunged forward and placed S and E in front of the X.

Curt’s head shot up, and he looked at me in exaggerated shock. But when he saw my blush and the happy grin on my red face, he burst out laughing. That may have been the moment I won his heart.

As I lay in bed on the morning of my first birthday without Curt, it dawned on me that I was smiling. The memory, so precious and beautiful, filled me with gratitude and joy that lasted all day. What should have been a terrible day of sorrow, completely turned around. I hadn’t thought of that day in my life for years. Just a simple memory, but God used it to change an entire day. No one can comfort us as God can. His healing oil reaches into the deepest crevices of our brokenness and pain.

He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds. (Psalm 147:3 NLT)
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:4 NASB)

I thank God for the special times He intervenes like this. But there are still days when God doesn’t spare me the sadness of my new circumstances. Recently, I attended the funeral of a man from our former church. When Curt resigned, Bob pulled him aside and told him, “Wherever you go, I want you to come back and do my funeral.” This precious saint passed away this August, only a few years shy of 100, and instead of Curt doing his funeral, I imagine Curt greeted Bob at the heavenly gates. As I sat at the funeral, these were the thoughts running through my mind. I enjoyed seeing so many people from our former church—people whose lives intersected with ours for a moment in time. Curt had officiated so many funerals in that building. We were there together and left together, but this time as I exited the doors of the funeral home, I walked out alone. It is my cross to bear, and God does not spare me from all the pain just like he didn’t spare His Son. But He does strengthen my faith.

I recently read something in the Griefshare devotional that accurately explains the difficulty and blessing of loss:

Heidi, a widow, says, “People would say to me, ‘Heidi, I just wish I had some of your strength.’ And one of the things that I would say to them was, ‘If you’ve gone through the situations in your life like I have, then you would have the strength that I have.’ I’ve experienced a lot of things in my walk with God that have strengthened me. I think because I know who God is and I know His faithfulness in my life, I was able to say that this is not going to knock me down. This is a hard thing, but I have to trust in God.”

Through a Season of Grief, Griefshare Daily Devotional

I think the key to growing in faith amid grief is to remember the character of God. I honestly believe that if Eve had taken the time to contemplate God’s friendship with Adam and her, she would have recognized the devil’s lies. I’m certainly not saying that I’m better than Eve. Not at all. There were times in my life when I, too, forgot to focus on God’s character. The enemy of our souls loves nothing more than for us to turn our anger on God for taking our loved ones away from us. This kind of response causes the devil to do a happy dance, knowing he can keep us imprisoned in our misery for as long as our anger lasts. He will feed that anger and keep us trapped as long as possible.

As Americans, we grow up hearing that we have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It’s a right we cherish and protect. But applying that sort of pride and thinking to things that matter for eternity puts us in opposition to the teachings of Jesus. He told the crowd who came to hear Him, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24)

When God called Curt home, I stood at a T in the road. Two options lay before me. I had to choose between my innate rights, which would justify anger at God for causing me to lose my happiness, or choose to die to my plans and submit and even embrace the cross, the burden, the heartache, and the loneliness with humility and trust.

The thing staring me in the face—what I cannot ignore—is the character of God. No matter what has happened to me, God is still the same. He will not leave me or forsake me. (Deuteronomy 31:6) I know that though I have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I have nothing to fear, for God is with me. (Psalm 23:4) I know that when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold. (Job 23:10) I know that God’s goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23:6) And because I know my God, I am confident that after I have suffered a little while, He will restore, support, and strengthen me, and He will place me on a firm foundation. (1 Peter 5:10)

So on the morning of my birthday, as I climbed out of bed still smiling from that sweet memory of what I had the privilege of experiencing long ago, I began to get ready for my day. As I sat before the make-up mirror, my heart bubbled over with such joy, I closed my eyes and lifted my hands to the heavens to worship God by singing:

All that thrills my soul is Jesus,
He means more than life to me
And the fairest of ten thousand,
In my blessed Lord I see.

Author: Thoro Harris

Lessons Learned in the Dark

I’ve heard it said that there’s such a thing as widow brain. Have you ever heard of it? The symptoms are forgetfulness, extreme sadness, brain fog, irritability, fatigue or exhaustion, numbness, and nausea. I’ve had them all at some point since the end of September. When driving home from the grocery store a few months ago, I went right through a four-way stop sign. That’s never happened to me. Never. It wasn’t until I heard the blast of someone’s horn that I realized what I’d done. It wasn’t a close call or anything like that. But it could have been. I have thanked God over and over again for helping me not to have injured someone. After that incident, I looked up widow brain, something a friend had mentioned.

Last Friday, I went grocery shopping and used the self-checkout lane. I had added some items to the cart that I didn’t urgently need. I just didn’t want to run out. The two items were crunchy peanut butter and marshmallow fluff, so I can make a fluffernutter sandwich for breakfast if the mood hits me. Curt taught me about fluffernutters, so it’s special to me. Okay, I admit it, I love them and would eat fluffernutters even if someone else had introduced them to me. Anyway, almost two days later, I realized that I didn’t have the crunchy peanut butter or the marshmallow fluff anywhere in the kitchen. I checked the trunk of my car just in case I forgot to unload a bag. Empty. It was then I realized two more items were missing. I must have left one bag of groceries at the store checkout. Since it was Sunday, I decided to go to church and not let it bother me. On Monday, I called the store. They suggested I come in, and they would look at my purchase receipt. Have I ever mentioned in my blog that I love modern technology? You can say whatever you want about it. But without a doubt, it has made my life easier. As I drove to the store, I thought of how awful I’d feel if we couldn’t prove I’d left the groceries, but the store returned my money just because I’m a customer. I wanted proof that I had left the bag after paying for it. Well, they tapped in some numbers from the receipt into their computer, and yes, indeed, they had restocked all the items I’d purchased. They had proof that I had a right to those items, and I didn’t need to depend on their grace. Again, I’d never done anything like this before. Widow brain? I hope that’s all it is, and I will heal with time. Ha!

Grief is the strangest thing ever. Nothing is the same. The worst thing that could happen has happened. In Griefshare, I heard that after you lose a loved one, you have to deal with the terrible fear that you will lose someone else you love. I mean, it happened once, so what’s to keep it from happening again. I dealt with this fear for a while. But now I feel the flip side of that fear. My worst fear has come true, and my husband is gone. My future is upside down. But I haven’t fallen apart. I’m still here breathing, eating, living, loving, and, yes, even laughing. I don’t know how this is possible, but I’ve survived, and I feel braver, more courageous.

My trust in God reaches deeper, which in itself is unfathomable. After all, didn’t God let me down when He didn’t heal Curt? But by choosing to trust God at the beginning of this journey, even with a broken heart and tears running down my face, even as I shouted that I couldn’t understand. That simple step of faith—saying, “I trust You, God. Even now, I choose to trust You.” That step planted my wavering faith in rich soil where it had all it needed to grow as God shone the light of His Word on that dark, cold ground, warming it with His devoted love. I do not grieve as one who has no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

Focusing on Heaven and studying the book of Revelations were two key factors in helping my faith grow. Since losing Curt, I have fixed my eyes on eternity like never before. The Bible says, “A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.” God was faithful to Curt for all the years he decreed for him. I know that when I reach the final day ordained for me on this earth, God will also be faithful to take me home. My heart leaps with joy at the thought. I don’t relish dying, but death doesn’t scare me. It’s the goal of eternity with God that has made me more courageous. This sinful world can wreak havoc and cause many more tears to flow, but it is well with my soul, and my future is secure in my Heavenly Father’s love.

A friend recently sent me this quote.

The sweetest songs of earth, have been sung in sorrow. The richest things in character, have been reached through pain.

— J.R. Miller

No one wants to face the sorrow that creates this depth of character and insight. But when you find yourself in the darkest phase of your life, wasting the grief on bitterness would be the greatest loss. There is much to learn from pain. The most profound lesson is how deep faith can grow in times like these. Bitterness leads to regrets. But relinquishing your dreams to God takes you to new heights. You can never reach the pinnacle of faith without walking through the darkest valley fully surrendered to God.

I’m not the same person Curt left behind last September. If we could take a walk together today, I’m sure he’d notice I’ve changed. I can only imagine the change in him now that he’s seen Jesus and knows the answers to the questions we still contemplate.

Here is a quote from a book that has been a blessing to me on my grief journey. I wish I could recommend it to you, but it is unfortunately out of print.

“Don’t doubt in the dark what you’ve learned in the light,” they say. What they don’t tell you is that life’s vital lessons aren’t learned in the light at all, but in the darkest pit. Like Jacob, I have been given a new identity: everything I know about God, I know from the perspective of a father who has lost a daughter. This, as it turns out, is a helpful perspective from which to view the Bible, because the God we worship is also a father who suffered the death of a child. I dare not forget in the light what I’ve learned in the dark.

Like countless others who have suffered loss, I’ve received a gift—the sudden, clear, accurate realization that something is vitally wrong with this world. Our lives, like so many things in this world, are transitory; without God’s ultimate meaning, there is no meaning. Creation is groaning, says Paul, subjected to futility, eagerly longing for God to straighten things out. An adequate theology will not avoid this truth but embrace it.

— Luke Veldt, Written In Tears

Since my last blog post, I’ve reached the ten-month mark of Curt’s passing. Just writing that sentence brings such intense pain that my eyes well with tears. Curt didn’t want to leave me any more than I wanted him to go. We didn’t get a choice in the matter. I only get to choose how I’ll respond.

Curt wrote the following in his journal twenty-six years ago while we lived in Germany for four years.

I want this new year to draw me much closer to the Lord. I want to walk closer to Him than ever before. More Word. More Prayer. May He fill my heart with greater goodness, purity, focus, determination, love, etc. As regards our future, we must leave it in God’s hands, knowing that at the right time He will make it clear; just as he did in getting us here in the first place.

We left for Heidelberg at around 12:45. It snowed off and on the whole way. There was a good crowd in church. The real surprise came when they asked me to go upstairs to pray with two men that wanted to accept Jesus. They were serious. The groundwork was already laid. They repented and asked Jesus into their hearts. It was a great moment.

Isn’t it like the Lord to give encouragement when we need it most. We don’t know what our future holds, but I’m determined to take it one day at a time.

— Curt Dalaba’s Journal, January 1, 1995

God brought us through so much, guiding us every step of the way. One day at a time. Now, I’m walking out the remainder of my days alone—but not alone. I still have my family, my friends, church fellowship, and I’m meeting new people as I keep moving forward. My prayer is that God will use me to advance His Kingdom. As long as I’m on earth, I still have the opportunity to help strengthen people, build their faith, lead them toward God, and work wherever God places me. I still have time to store up treasures in heaven.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

Heaven…Your Real Home From a Higher Perspective

I finished listening to the audiobook, Heaven…Your Real Home From a Higher Perspective, by Joni Earekson Tada last week. As I’ve mentioned before, since my husband passed away, I have found comfort in reading about heaven. It gives me a glimpse into what he must be experiencing already—and all that awaits me. The reality of heaven has become more real to me.

If you’ve never heard of Joni Eareckson Tada, she is a remarkable woman who didn’t allow her obstacles to make her useless. On July 30, 1967, she dove into the Chesapeake Bay after misjudging the shallowness of the water and became paralyzed from her shoulders down. During rehabilitation, she learned to paint with a brush between her teeth and started selling her artwork. She also learned to write that way. Now she relies mostly on voice recognition software. Here is a brief quote from her book.

“Hardships are God’s way of helping me get my mind on the hereafter. And I don’t mean hereafter as a death wish or an escape from reality; I mean hereafter as the true reality. And nothing beats rehearsing a few time-honored Scriptures if you want to put reality into a heavenly perspective. Like, every time my corset digs in my side, or I’m faced with a 4-week stint in bed, I look beyond the negatives and see the positives: I recall that pilgrims aren’t supposed to feel at home on earth; I set my heart and mind on things above and dream of the day I’ll see my Bridegroom; I remember the promise of a new body, a new heart and mind. And I think about the crowns I’ll be able to cast at Jesus’ feet. These things make up the soon and coming reality, so today, get your mind on the hereafter. The soul that mounts up to heaven’s kingdom cannot fail to triumph.”

~Joni Eareckson Tada

Before you leave for a vacation, how much do you dream about it and plan for it? Heaven is a trip we will take in the future. We might arrive there today, tomorrow, or years from now. If we are living in obedience to God and follow the teachings of Jesus, Heaven is our destination. This world is not our home.

“For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.”

Hebrews 13:14 NLT

That being the case, I want to learn as much as possible about where I’m going. Interestingly, the more I focus on heaven, I find myself living more purposely in obedience to God—focusing on the needs of others, choosing to be patient, giving more selflessly of my time, etc. I’m certainly not perfect, but I’m striving to do better because my eyes are on eternity. I don’t just want to make it to heaven. I want others to make it too, because the alternative is devastating. So, focusing on heaven makes me more useful on earth.

Joni tells bits and pieces of her story. Everything she shares is with an upbeat slant. You can’t help but want to see life from her point of view. Although she shares some of her hardships and the challenges others face, Joni does not allow you to feel sorry for her or for her friends. It’s difficult to feel sorry for someone who doesn’t feel sorry for herself.

Whether you’re battling grief or currently living on a mountain top, don’t waste either experience. Reading this book helps you see life from a more accurate viewpoint. Heaven…Your Real Home From a Higher Perspective is engaging and thoroughly enjoyable.

We Aren’t Done Yet

Losing my husband has caused me to review my life. This week, I thought back to when I first received the call to ministry. I was twelve years old when I had a strong impression—probably my first time to realize the Lord was speaking to me—that I would be a pastor’s wife. I didn’t suddenly start acting more holy than the day before. Nothing changed drastically in my life. When I was old enough to date, I didn’t only look at boys who wanted to become pastors. I shoved that “call” to the back of my mind and figured that if God wanted me to be a pastor’s wife, He would make it happen. Besides, what if I got it wrong? I attended a German-speaking church of about sixty-five people. We had a fun youth group, but all the boys were like brothers to me, and I was like a sister to them. How was I supposed to meet anyone, let alone a pastor?

Well, I can tell you that God will accomplish whatever He sets out to do. Several years later, as Curt and his family drove back home to Ohio after General Council in San Antonio, people in the car passing them waved enthusiastically. Curt’s family waved back but didn’t know who they were. (I often suspected that Curt had a photographic memory. When he saw a face, he never forgot it.) So, when the Dalaba family arrived at the next rest stop, he immediately recognized the friendly people in the car that had passed them. Curt went right up and greeted them. It turns out the husband pastored a German church in Ohio. Curt had just recently come back from doing ministry in Germany. When they discovered he could speak German fluently, they told him about a German church in New Jersey that needed a pastor. Curt wasn’t interested. But they insisted he allow their superintendent to contact him, so he agreed. Long story short, Curt became my pastor.

Even though I was in a relationship at the time and Curt had made it clear to everyone that he will not date anyone in his church, nothing could stand in the way of God’s plan. That was how we met, fell in love, and shared 33 years of ministry. Only God can take a girl from a small church in a small town in New Jersey and cause her path to cross with a single pastor who had been in Germany and was now an associate pastor in Ohio. And He did it by a “chance” encounter with strangers at a rest stop on a highway.

Was it a coincidence that a young man without an ounce of German blood running through his veins got a passion for the German language and taught himself without a teacher? He learned it so well that he could preach and teach in the German language. It was this ability that opened the door for us to meet.

“God took me all the way back to New Jersey,
just to find you.
He knew I needed you,
knew you would be the best friend I’d ever have,
knew I needed everything about you,
because we’d complement each other so well.”

~Curt Dalaba, Facebook Post

“Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

Psalm 139:16

God had divinely arranged our meeting, but what does it all mean for me now? That’s what I pondered and asked the Lord. I’m no longer a pastor’s wife, so what is my purpose? That calling has come to an end. What now? Did cancer destroy God’s plan for my life?

The answer is a loud and resounding NO! Cancer cannot destroy God’s plans because God is bigger than cancer. Psalm 139:16 tells us that even before we were born, all our days were ordained and written into a book—God’s book. Yes, that includes the days Curt battled cancer and the days I struggled beside him to make him comfortable. Although we were surprised to discover he had cancer last June, God was not surprised. It was part of His sovereign plan for Curt. If that were not so, it would make Him into a weak God, which we know He is not. He is all-powerful.

“A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.”

Job 14:5

I believe when Curt was born, God already set his lifetime at 65 years, two months, and two days. When we married, God knew that after 33 years and thirteen days, my heart would shatter into a million pieces. He knew I’d be a widow at 59. That also means that being a widow is His plan for this stage of my life.

It seems cruel that God would allow this to happen to His children, but who are we to question Him? Remember, He didn’t spare His Son either. God knew the reason His Son had to suffer and die. He also knew death wasn’t the end. There would be a resurrection. God knows things we cannot fathom. He has a sovereign plan that is truly best for us and His Kingdom.

It reminds me of Joseph and his brothers. The brothers wanted to get rid of him, and they did a despicable thing when they sold him as a slave and then allowed their father to believe his son had died. But even then, God was still in control. He could have stopped them, but He didn’t. God had a plan, and yes, he used sinful men to accomplish it.

“I am Joseph, your brother, whom you sold into slavery in Egypt. But don’t be upset, and don’t be angry with yourselves for selling me to this place. It was God who sent me here ahead of you to preserve your lives. This famine that has ravaged the land for two years will last five more years, and there will be neither plowing nor harvesting. God has sent me ahead of you to keep you and your families alive and to preserve many survivors. So it was God who sent me here, and not you! And he is the one who made me an adviser to Pharaoh—the manager of this entire palace and governor of Egypt.”

Genesis 45:4-8

Joseph told his brothers that it wasn’t their sin that accomplished all this. It was God. In the same way, it wasn’t cancer that took Curt. It was God. And it was God’s will that I am a widow now and continue working for Him in partnership with the Holy Spirit, no longer as a pastor’s wife, but still as His daughter.

Accepting this doesn’t make all the pain of grief disappear. Even today, as I read Curt’s journal entry on this day last year, I curled up on my bed and wept tears of sorrow. It hurts. I miss him. But God is still in control. I am not living in God’s Plan B for me. I am still in God’s Plan A. Accepting His sovereign plan helps me to relinquish my death grip on what used to be and accept God’s continued plan for me. In His plan, I will find a priceless treasure.

I want to share with you one of Curt’s journal entries in 1999. He takes a closer look at Matthew 13:44, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.”

It’s very hard to give up what you have until you’ve found something better. We think of this very often in terms of money but think of some of the things we cherish; habits, patterns of thought, methods of operation. We don’t give them up until we find something better.

But you say, “I’ve found Jesus, so why do I still battle?” It has to do with the value—placed worth—that He holds in our lives.

Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness—love God first. The Kingpin—the central point.

“Sell all we have” means giving up—not only the painful consequences of dearly held habits, patterns of thought, methods of behavior, but also the root possession. “I wish I could do this or that and not feel guilty. I wish I could do this and not mess things up or complicate things.”

He must increase; I must decrease. The small “g” god must come off its pedestal.

The Kingdom of heaven is a priceless treasure that is to be desired above all else. The man had to pay a price for it. It is free; it just costs us everything we have.

~ Curt Dalaba, Journal Entry, 1999

Accepting God’s sovereign plan is relinquishing my will for His. If you’ve recently lost a loved one, this might take time. God understands. He will work with you. But eventually, you will have to let go of the past so you can move forward. I’m not saying I will forget Curt. That’s not even possible, nor do I want to let go of my memories of him. His life and ministry influenced my life and made me who I am today. I thank God almost daily that I was blessed to be Curt Dalaba’s wife. No woman could be more blessed than I was. But just like Tarzan had to let go of one vine as he grabbed the next one so he could keep moving forward, I must let go of the past to keep moving forward.

Here is the really wonderful and exciting part. Curt isn’t in the past either. He’s moved forward. By letting go of the past, I’m moving forward in God’s plan—with Curt. We are in different worlds now but still submitted to God and His sovereign plan. And one day, we will meet again. Not in the past, but the future. The past is now a beautiful memory. It’s okay to look at and treasure the memories. They give us reasons to worship and praise God for all He has blessed us with and all he’s brought us through. But we are not done yet. There are more people whose lives we must touch, and God wants to use you and me.

“…But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 3:13-14 NIV

A Band-Aid for Grief

It’s been over nine months now, and quite frankly, I’m tired of grieving and hurting. It’s tempting to try to hide from the pain by filling my time with other things, mind-numbing things, anything to take my mind off of my loss. There are so many ways a person can avoid dealing with their heartache, but sooner or later, it all comes tumbling back again. You can’t hide forever.

For example, my sister and her family live about ten hours from me and came for a visit. My days were full. We talked about Curt sometimes, of course, which brought tears but laughter too when we remembered his great sense of humor. However, most of our time together was filled with playing with our grandchildren, feasting, activity, fellowshipping together, and catching up on everyone’s life. By the time I dropped into bed at the end of the day and listened briefly to an audiobook, I soon enjoyed the oblivion of sleep.

All too quickly, it was time to say goodbye. I braced myself for it hours before they left. I knew what would follow. It’s what happens every time I have to say goodbye to my family now that Curt is gone. After waving and blowing kisses, I entered my home, shut the door, and a tsunami of grief crashed over me. The empty feeling when family leaves now blends with the loss of my husband, and the pain is overwhelming.

It’s tempting to run and hide in a captivating book, a movie, or call my kids and focus on their lives, anything to occupy my mind so that I don’t think about loneliness, emptiness, sickness, death, or memories of what can never be again. There is nothing wrong with doing any of the activities I mentioned, except that they are just a Band-aid on a deep, gaping wound. Insufficient.

After my sister left, I put on my sneakers, clicked the leash on my dog’s collar, and went for a long walk. I cried and told God how much I miss Curt, but my heart stayed heavy. Then I remembered what had helped me through this before. Nine months into the grief journey has taught me some things. I’ve felt this desperate longing countless times since September 25th, and I knew what I needed to do. It was like the Lord was whispering, “Come, spend time with Me. Place your trust in Me again. Praise Me and thank Me for what I’m doing in your life. I still have things I want you to accomplish. I’m preparing you. I’m already using you. Trust Me. Don’t stay stuck in your loss, but look a little higher and see that I have everything you need. Don’t avoid Me. I am the only One who can truly help you and heal your heart.”

It’s been a vicious cycle since I lost Curt. I want to hide from my pain, but then God helps me see that I need Him. So, I steer back to the path I’ve driven on over and over again. This path takes me to where I submit and trust Jesus. And there, I find peace and hope, and the heaviness in my heart lifts. But just like the disciples couldn’t stay on the Mount of Transfiguration no matter how wonderful it was (Matthew 17), I too must continuously re-engage with my life and responsibilities. So, coming to Jesus once is never enough. Life happens, and I get distracted and busy, so I have to keep returning to that path with the ruts in the road from my frequent travel to that spot reserved for Jesus and me.

Curt told me the story of how his dad learned to drive a team of horses when he was a young boy. Curt’s grandfather told his son to steer the horses so the wagon wheels will roll in the ruts in the dirt road that led to their home. Once the wheels were in the ruts, the horses would pretty much steer themselves. I found this short poem Curt wrote about the story he heard long ago.

He was young He was eager Given the reins Told it wouldn't be hard to drive the team down the wagon trail. Get the wheels in the ruts, son. It will pretty much steer itself. Pretty reassuring, Life in the ruts. ~ Curt Dalaba ©2018

Making it a habit to run to Jesus and tell Him that I trust Him has created ruts in the road of my grief journey. Now that my grief is no longer constant but comes in unsuspecting and violent waves, I find the ruts are helping me steer more quickly to the place I find relief. When I follow those ruts my faith in God has created, I get much more than a Band-aid from Him. He places His hand on me again, and I am whole even though half of me is gone. He fills the half that’s missing. God makes me complete again.

“Without faith, it is impossible to please Him.” (Hebrews 11:6)

It’s not like there is a faith meter or something. We will not be measured by how much faith we have like it’s win or lose. No, God shows us what He expects, and what He expects cannot be accomplished in the energy of the flesh; it is a fruit of the Spirit. The only way this is accessed is through faith. Without faith you cannot see what is available, grab what is available, and use what is available. The eyes of faith broaden the horizons of my perspective. What we do to please God can only be accomplished through faith—and that’s why without it you cannot.

~ Curt Dalaba (journal entry)

I want to please God in how I process my grief. Sometimes I fail in this. I thank God for His mercy and grace. He forgives me and helps me return to the ruts in the road that lead me to where I find true comfort. It’s only in trusting God.

I think the reason I only find peace when I’m trusting God is that by doing so, I’m letting go of my will and submitting to His plan for my life. Too often, I want to tell God how He should do things, and then I want to see Him answer that prayer. But Jesus taught us to pray, “Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” (Matthew 6:10 NIV) Interestingly enough, almost two years ago, I felt impressed to pray those words every morning during my prayer time. Was God preparing me for the bitter pain of losing my husband? Was He preparing me to submit to His plan for my life? My guess would be, yes, He was. 

I wanted God to heal Curt. Everything within me longed for that. I prayed God would not allow cancer to take my husband from me. But after reading Acts 3:16 NIV this week, I wonder if the person God wants to heal is me. “By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has given this complete healing to him, as you can all see.” I believe that my faith in Jesus will make me strong and heal my broken heart because He has given me a new perspective that this earth is a place of preparation for eternity. So, I want God’s will for my life. He’s preparing me for all that is yet to come.

“Aim at heaven, and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth, and you get neither.”

C.S. Lewis

Lord, help me to surrender my will to You. Help me to accept Your will for my life and allow you to heal my heart. Let Your Kingdom come, and Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Dreams for the Future

I pulled weeds yesterday evening from a flower bed that I used to admire without having to labor in it. Of the two of us, Curt was the gardener. Working in the garden was therapeutic for him, especially after a stressful week. While I did the housework inside, Curt worked in the yard. When he finished, he’d call me to look at it. I was always impressed because he did such a praise-worthy job, and I was glad I didn’t have to do it. Countless times, I admired the garden from the windows of my house throughout the spring, summer, and even fall. I loved sitting or walking in the backyard and seeing all the plants and flowers. But last night, as I bent over another big weed, pulled with all my might, and threw it on the ground to join the others, my back ached from bending over, and moisture covered my brow. I straightened and looked toward the deck where I used to stand and tell Curt how beautiful it all was. Life was so much better then.

As I looked down at Curt’s gardening gloves on my hands, I shook my head. Our dreams for the future didn’t look like this. For years we anticipated and planned for retirement. It was almost in our grasp. But without warning, snatched away. We were partners for life. Now I stand alone. I don’t love my life the way I used to—the way we had planned it.

This morning I read in Mark 8:34-35 NLT, “If any of you want to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it.”  Nowhere in the Bible does it tell me that all my dreams will come true here on earth. Look at the cross Jesus had to carry for our sake. It was a far more grueling and humbling cross than the one I have to bear, but He did it for us. There was no other way to save the world from hell. I trust that God took Curt home because there was no other way to accomplish His plans from His perspective. What His plans are, I have no idea. But I do trust Him. 

In Hebrews 12:2 NLT the writer said of Jesus. “Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame.” Jesus endured the cross by focusing on the joy yet to come. Does that mean that if we honor God by trusting Him when hard times come and accepting our cross without griping or complaining or angrily lifting a fist to God or bringing shame to Him, that there is an extra reward awaiting us in eternity? I don’t know, but I know there will be rewards, and I imagine this might be an opportunity to receive one. What I do know is that Jesus showed us by example how we are to endure our cross. Isaiah 53:7 NLT, “He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth.” Jesus felt every thorn, whip, spit, tearing out of his beard, and slap. Jesus felt the frustration of false accusations from arrogant and ignorant people. Jesus felt the hopelessness of unjust ruling by self-serving political leaders. Jesus felt the nails and dying of his body. He felt grief for those who wept as they knelt at his feet. Yet He led a sinner (the criminal hanging beside him) to salvation by the way He endured the cross. 

Take up your cross.
Your cross is what you take up
for the good of others. You need
not like it, not enjoy it—but
you do enjoy the horizon’s promise,
a promise of new life.

~ Curt Dalaba

Curt once told me that our cross isn’t about what happens to us but what we endure for others. That my husband had cancer and died is not my cross to bear. That happened to me. But facing my loss in such a way that will glorify my Savior and draw people’s attention to God, that is my cross. It’s something that doesn’t come naturally, but I must do it for others. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t cry. It doesn’t mean I can’t say that I’m hurting and still in the process of healing. But, interestingly enough, in Griefshare, I learned that reaching out and helping others while I’m grieving helps in the healing process. As I stared at all I’d lost, God placed a finger under my chin so I would look into His eyes, and by doing so, He gave me the ability to see those around me who are hurting too.

As Jesus hung on the cross, writhing in torturous agony, He looked down at his mother and saw her sorrow. Then He turned his gaze upon John, His disciple, and asked him to take care of her. Although in excruciating pain and dying of thirst, Jesus saw Mary’s need.

“We should never allow ourselves to face toward life’s glooms; we should never sit down in the shadows of any sorrow, and let the night darken over us into the gloom of despair; we should turn our face away toward the light and quicken every energy for braver duty and truer, holier service. Grief should always make us better and give us new skill and power; it should make our heart softer, our spirit kindlier, our touch more gentle; it should teach us its holy lessons, and we should learn them, and then go on. with sorrow’s sacred ordination upon us, to new love and better service. It is thus, too, that lonely hearts find their sweetest, richest comfort.”

J.R. Miller, The Ministry of Comfort

If you have just entered grief, it’s perfectly normal to feel your loss intensely. You will need that time of deep grieving. But cling tightly to your faith even when you don’t understand. There is a deeper level of love for your Savior attainable to you in this new phase of life.

There was so much the disciples didn’t understand while Jesus walked this earth. I love the story in the Bible when Jesus is transfigured on the mountain while Peter, James, and John watched. Peter makes a very human suggestion that lacks godly wisdom. The Bible tells us in Mark 9:6, “He (Peter) said this because he didn’t really know what else to say, for they were all terrified.” I’ve often smiled when I read this because I understand how Peter must have felt. I probably would have spoken too and then slapped a hand over my mouth in mortification. When I was in deep grief and filled with despair for my future without Curt, I don’t remember all I said to God. I’m sure some of it just came out of human emotion. But just like Jesus didn’t rebuke Peter, He didn’t correct me either. He did, however, guide me when I felt Him asking me, “Do you trust me?” God had just let me down in one of the worst ways possible, and now He asked me if I trusted him. It would seem unreasonable, except that I know that where I’m blind, He has a distinct vision. God knows the things I do not know. And He loved me enough to allow Himself to suffer and stay on that cross to die for my sins. “Yes. Even now, I will trust You.” With those words, my despair turned toward hope. 

No one knows me as well as God does. I yearn for something but don’t know what. He knows the deepest desires of my heart, of which I’m unaware because He knows me better than I know myself. So, my dreams for my future haven’t died. I believe they are in the process of being fulfilled. The disciples didn’t understand that Jesus had to suffer and die so that everyone would have the opportunity to spend eternity on a New Earth that Jesus has gone to prepare for us. They had been hoping for an undefeatable political leader here on earth to help them defeat their enemies. Their hopes were for this world alone. They didn’t get it until Jesus had ascended into heaven. Then they finally understood that it’s not about the here and now. It’s about eternity. The fulfillment of my dreams is not about this life either. God is far more interested in fulfilling my dreams for all eternity.

In the meantime, I cling to this promise Jesus gave to anyone who will follow and trust Him:

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.

John 14:1-3