We will often have guest bloggers, and our first is a young lady who I unfortunately got to know when her husband, Lino Lakes Police Officer Shawn Silvera was killed in the line of duty in September of 2005. We helped Jennifer and her family through the funeral process, and have kept in touch with her ever since. I am now fortunate to consider Jennifer a friend who inspires Tim and I, especially reading her journal on www.shawnsilvera.org. Jennifer has a message of hope that everyone should read. Enjoy!
A Very Good Life
By Jennifer Silvera
So you have this life in front of you—the one you thought was empty and abandoned. And then one day you wake up and think, “I like my life.” Not the painful parts. Not the pieces that revolve around loss. Not the roller coaster madness of hurt that penetrates deeper than deep. But, the clean parts. The vibrant parts. The life-growing parts. Those are the new things that start to push through and bring reason to say, “I have a very good life.”
The idea of a good life doesn’t come quickly after loss. It isn’t something I found myself saying days, weeks or months after my husband died. It took actual years before I could bravely admit let alone believe the words, I like my life. This expression felt contradictory to grief. How can one like anything when so much has been taken?
Loss tends to trump all other aspects of living to the point of forgetting what else exists. Loss is all-consuming. Still, the intensity of loss is not the definition of our lives as a whole. Loss is a part of us. Loss isn’t all of us. There has to be more and we have to search to find it.
A bigger question loomed around me. How can I not find the good in life again? Strong-minded, I was determined to not give up. I resolved to find some reason to keep moving.
So I started small–being pleased with a cup of tea or remembering to get my oil changed, playing with my kids or finding comfort in a phone call from a friend. And it took much discipline, practice and sometimes repeated attempts to concentrate on the things left in my life that I could acknowledge as good. Let me rephrase that—it takes much discipline, practice and repeat attempts. There is nothing past tense about living through loss. It is an on-going journey of healing.
Is this faith? I’m not sure. Is it strength? I’m not necessarily convinced that it is. Is it grace? I think so. I think there is much much grace given to the one who says, “I will come to the table and give you what I have—the real me—this is who I am. I will show up. I will commit to meeting here each morning. I will try something new. I will look for the good. I will list out the joys still found inside my life. I will keep coming until I can say I like what I see. Until I can say I have a very good life.”
