Rambling on about a little faith, a little grit, and remembering those who came before us on the Eve of Halloween…

Life and its tribulations have been hitting real lately. I mean, what in the world is going on? Some days, the drama, the insanity, and the sheer weight of trying to live a life that does not include anxiety and depression feel like more than a person ought to carry. I have heard myself say, “What? How is this happening? Why is this happening?” far too often lately.

I am used to shifting gears, finding a new way through, or evolving into whatever comes next. That has been my way for a long time. But lately, the weight of the world feels overwhelming, and I am tired of pretending it does not.

I lost my job, and at 68, it is not exactly easy to replace. Truthfully, finding a job at any age is no picnic these days, but there is something especially unsettling about having to start over at this point in life. I do not want to go backward. I have worked hard to come up from certain places, and my mental health is not eager to welcome those struggles back through the front door.

Usually, I work my way through difficult times. Robert Louis Stevenson said, “Keep busy at something: A busy person never has time to be unhappy.” Well, bless his heart, but I am not sure that is entirely true. Busy may distract me during the day, but at night, or in the early morning when I sit contemplating the hours ahead, I can feel anxiety swelling inside me.

I tell myself it is time to get out in the yard, take a walk, and find something to keep me moving. I have plenty of things I want to do, and I am trying to do them, but if I am honest, some of it is just busywork. The tasks distract me from the issues at hand—the ones causing that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even breathing felt heavy this morning.

I have been trying to find a job, while another part of me wants to stay home behind my gates and let the world carry on without me. Just leave me be, I think. But life does not always grant us that kind of quiet. There are bills to pay, responsibilities that need attention, and things that cannot simply be ignored.

When I was younger, I could not wait to become an adult. Nobody warned me that adulting could be this heavy and hard, especially at a time in life when I thought things might finally become lighter, maybe even enjoyable. This is not what I expected at 68. Not at all.

People seem harder to read and harder to understand these days. The lack of empathy, kindness, and genuine concern can be deeply disturbing. Having spent my whole life in customer service, I notice it perhaps more than most. It feels like a surreal time to be a person who still believes that how we treat one another matters.

So I rely on my faith. I rely on the strength I have gathered along the way and on the evidence of my own life. I have faced crisis after crisis, and somehow, God has met me in every one of them. When I look back, I can see that the timing was His, even when I did not understand it. The answers came… sometimes slowly, sometimes in ways I never expected, but they came.

I have never failed to make it through anything I have faced. I am faltering now, and I will admit that the heaviness feels more suffocating than it once did. Maybe it is age. Maybe it is the place I am at in life. Maybe it is simply one of those seasons when the road ahead is hidden by fog.

Still, I know that staying busy can help. It gives my mind a brief rest from overthinking. The small tasks, the walks, the yardwork, and even the ordinary chores can interrupt the paralysis that fear and anxiety create. They may not solve everything, but they can help me take the next breath and the next step.

And in the end, I find myself right back at the question: What do I do now?

My devotion today was Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.” That verse feels almost impossible when my mind is racing and my heart is bracing for the next blow. Yet perhaps that is exactly when I need it most, A BILLBOARD, not as a command to have all the answers, but as an invitation to stop for a moment and remember that I am not carrying this alone.

Tonight is Friday, the night before Halloween. I have always thought about Halloween as Samhain, an old tradition associated with the end of the harvest season, the beginning of winter, and a time when the boundary between the living and the dead was believed to grow thin. When those traditions came to this country, they eventually became the highly commercialized celebration we know today.

But for me, the spooky season has become something quieter and more meaningful. I think about the people I have loved and lost. I miss so many of them, especially my Michael, whom I married on Halloween. The costumes, decorations, and candy are still part of the season, but they are no longer the heart of it for me.

Now, Halloween feels like a time to remember. A time to honor the lives that shaped mine. A time to acknowledge the ache of missing people while giving thanks that I was blessed to have known them at all.

So tomorrow, I will try to be still. I will breathe, even when breathing feels heavy. I will do what I can, leave what I cannot do in God’s hands, and trust that I have not come this far only to be abandoned in the middle of the story.

The world may be loud, confusing, and downright heartbreaking right now. But I am still here. Still trying. Still believing. And for today, that has to be enough… Today I feel like I am riding a bicycle built for 2 alone… carrying the ghosts of my pasts and the anxiety of what is ahead. But I know…This too shall pass…