How are you doing?

I’ve been asked that question many times since Cindy’s unexpected death on February 19, 2018. It’s not an easy question to answer in this new and unwelcome season of my life. However, within a couple of days of Cindy’s death I crafted what has become my standard response: “I’m okay, but I’m not okay.”

I wake up every morning, get out of bed, and have my coffee. I’m okay.

I wake up every morning and realize Cindy is not here. I’m not okay.

I go places, see people, and enjoy getting out of the house. I’m okay.

I come home but Cindy is not there to ask me what I did, who I saw, and what we talked about. I’m not okay.

One day I spent several hours working around the yard, spreading mulch, mowing the lawn, and enjoying the sun and warm air. I’m okay.

Then I realize that my immediate neighbors who are outside will go back into their houses with their spouses. I’m not okay.

I spend time with my daughters, their husbands, and our grandchildren. We laugh. We play. We eat. I’m okay.

Then, I realize Cindy is not with us. I don’t get to hear her laughter or see her loving on our grandchildren. I’m not okay.

I preached my first sermon since Cindy’s death on May 6. I’m okay.

But she wasn’t there for me to look at as I spoke, looking for those small cues that would encourage me. Neither was she there in the car ride home to tell me what she thought about it. I’m not okay.

I stay up too late at night because I don’t like going to sleep without her next to me. I miss her more deeply than I ever imagined. I’m not okay.

I know she suffers no more. The disease that rob her of her physical health no longer has any power over her. She rests in the presence of God awaiting the Resurrection at the Second Coming of Jesus. I know that we are separated for just a short time and we will be together again. I’m okay.

God has been gracious to me in my sorrow and loss. The psalmist wrote, “When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place” (Psalm 118:5). I’m doing my best to fully engage my grief while leaning on Jesus. And I’m grateful for the many prayers and kind words from friends. I’m okay.

This is a journey filled with things expected and unexpected, known and unknown. I will be okay. And at the same time not okay. But that’s okay.