Holiday Observations.

It is "The Season" you know, the big one at the end of the year. The one that makes people nuts, running over other shoppers to get to their last "Must Have". I am different this year on the outside looking in.

I see the busy-ness, the shopping, the stress. We make such a big deal of all of our lists. There are cards and gifts and cookies to share. The trees the lights the parties galore. There is such expectation of ourselves and those around.  I wonder what it all means making this thing we call Christmas? We stress, we wear ourselves right out with the busy-ness we create. When the reason we celebrate means that we can have peace and celebrate that one "little" life. This day is one to be thankful for the gift, the babe that became man. He came to this place to bring is great light.  He brings us life in the midst of our strife. However, we have turned this whole season into something else all together. We turn this season into seemingly everything but.

This year I stand from the outside looking in and I wonder at the end of it all will we ask, "what was my purpose doing all of this stuff?" Did the baby Lord Jesus come out in my heart? Was He visible to others in the midst of my life? Were all the things we did that caused us such stress something so wonderful a celebration of His gift?

Divine Intrusion

There seems to be 3 sides of me as I look deep within. The mind (the thoughtfulness), the heart (the emotion) and the spirit within. When there is sorrow, I choose where to look to resolve what is there.Most of the time, because of who I am, I start with the emotions that exist. Right now, it is painful and my heart cries out in pain. But, if I look with the mind only, often, it will shut down the feelings of the heart and the emotions build and become more intense and eventually, become unbearable. In the same way, the heart wants full attention from all around. It will often shut out the mind and the logic that exists therein. Without the bringing together of the heart and the mind, the choices made are not really choices but reactions from the unacknowledged turmoil within.
Sometimes, the pain it too great, the mind is shut down. It is the spirit that communes with God when we need to hear. He brings out the lessons learned long ago. He brings me to a place where someone can speak, breathe words of God's wisdom that speaks truth to my heart.Then the spirit speaks quietly, my mind hears the truth, the heart hears the truth and suddenly are quite in sync and the heart can rest.
Several weeks ago, this was my situation, the hurt was more than I could bear. A man I have never met, spoke truth in a message, a sermon I listened to. Allow God to speak to my heart and my mind through the spirit. He brings peace to the struggle and brings me along. He understands my pain, my tears and my mind. I am thankful for the messenger he brought right along. Someone to speak truth into the deep dark despair. Bringing me the taste of His mercy right along. Thank you Jesus for those words your servant spoke, it gave me perspective and a rope with which to hold, a reminder of Your strong hand holding me up.  

Sitting in His Lap

Over the years when I walk a path feeling quite alone, I become sad and forlorn and my loneliness grows strong. I lie in my bed, tears of sorrow wet my pillow. I cry out to my Savior desperate for help in my despair. It is then that I feel His presence filling me full and comforting my soul.

My vision is clear in my mind as I lie  am there with Him. Singing songs that express my love and worship, my vision is that I see Him high and lifted up. He sits upon the throne above the clouds. The King in all of His glory and majesty.  But, there in that place, something amazing happens. A reflection of His great love for me. I am as a child invited to climb into His lap to be held and comforted as a child by her father. My tears are wiped away, His arms express His love. My hurt becomes peace.

I have experienced this vision on occasions when there has been much sorrow and I feel at the end of my rope. The God I love and am in relationship with is a kind Father. One who knows my hurt, my suffering and calms my hurt. There are many in our world who do not view God this way. I would contend that because of Jesus walk on earth, He experienced suffering similar to mine. It was caused from one person to another, or from the suffering related to illness and death. Our God experiences deep compassion from the sorrow we suffer here and as a result can provide comfort if we allow it. 

Our Lord stands there awaiting permission to walk near and provide that comfort. God is one of love, true and perfect love. If we refuse to allow Him in, His heart is bruised, broken and sad. But, He does not push His way into your life. When we reject Him and turn away, He respects the choice we make be sure. 
Back to my bedroom, I find comfort in Him there. He stands by my bed, absorbing my tears. Although I am physically alone, His love has been shared. In the end, I am calm, at rest and assured. The storm has subsided. I can move forward once again, strengthened for the journey. I remember Him sitting there high above on His throne, me the little child being held in His lap. This vision walks with me during the dark days I face. A reminder of my God, His loving arms holding me tight.. 

The Bin Inside of Me

There is a bin inside of me, it's tall and wide. The purpose of this bin is to house the emotion big and small. The laughter, the tears. The happy and the sad. They all reside inside this bin.

On those days, when grief hits me hardest, the bin fills quickly. When the bin overflows, the pain becomes heavy, the stress unbearable. I can't function nor walk forward on those days. There are ways to release the fullness that exists there. I write, I cry, I pray and I talk, I write some more. I feel the bin releasing its load. I move forward again. Some days, I spend the day, emptying the bin over and over and over again. Other days, I only empty the bin at the end of a day. Depends on the day, depends upon the pain. Some days the bin doesn't get full and can wait til tomorrow. Those days are few and far between. Most days, the bin requires attention time and again.  

The Strength of His Grip

In the current path I follow, God's plan for me has been tough. One of the lessons I've learned has given me pause as to an error in my thoughts. I am a strong woman, with a dedicated faith. As I have walked holding onto God's hand, my focus has been on my grip as I hold His hand. To hold tightly as I walk. To stay the path, no matter how strong the wind that comes to blow me away.

In the past, as I focused upon my grip, there was stress and anxiety. Alas, the correct answer here lies not in my grip but His. I am held lovingly in the arms of His Love. It is His strength, not mine imperative to the success of this journey, of the holding of my hand. When I realize His strength is sufficient for me here, there is such freedom. When my focus turned to His strength, His grip, my handhold becomes unimportant because it has been released to the comfort of His arms wrapped around me. Because you see, He does not ask me to walk a path on my own, He guides me and helps me, my strength not the care because its on His strength I depend, while I walk with Him here.

The lesson for me here has been twofold. The first is my belief that I am a "strong woman with a dedicated faith" I am focused on me, not the Lord my God. It actually takes away from my faith to focus upon my strength if that faith and strength originates and simply flows through me from the Father. It is like saying that the hose somehow produces the water that flows through it rather than coming from the original source.

The second is that that when I focus on my grip, my handhold, my focus is on my strength and there is anxiety there. There is the need to change my focus. And, when I do, I have learned that I experience the freedom He promised, the peace. 

The Holiday Season has Arrived.

The holiday season has arrived. There are blinking lights and holly everywhere.Impatient customers stand in a line. "Those computers they are SO slow."  Retail clerks smile, but are stressed. If only they knew how much worse it could be. You see, I stand in this line listening to those all around. Observing what is happening like I've never done before. My experience this year is so much different than it once was. I might have been one of those irritated customers in previous years. Today, I stand here feeling like an outsider looking in. Like in the theater watching a movie. I observe those around me but not really being a part. I deal with my own "stuff". I stand there just waiting knowing I am not whole. Dealing with my life being torn from me at will. I stand there so broken and hurting inside. Those all around me unaware of that side. They are shopping and irritated but not broken in two. I stand there just wishing for only one thing. One thing that will never be mine.

I smile to the lady behind the counter. She is concerned that I will be mad that she has to direct me to another line. She frets I will show irritation and I see it in her eyes. I am sorry that she is so concerned, I am sorry she is afraid. You know she has experienced that treatment, otherwise why would she stress. In other years I might have been one of those irritated customers she had to face. But, this year, these things seem to be so minor compared to my life here and now. My brokenness is more consuming to me right at the moment. I see her concern, I understand she can't help. I smile and say thank you for letting me know now. Those ladies behind me will give it to her now. I don't need to dump anything more on her plate. 

Really oh really walk in my shoes today. I feel so separate from the holiday world all around. Removed from the celebration, the busy and the joy. Also, removed from the stress of the day. I simply work to make it through each day. Being Wednesday or Thursday or Christmas day does not matter. It is just another day to get through all alone. To somehow make myself whole once again. I feel insulated from the trauma of the holiday season all around. 

Dear Clerk,

The clerk smiles and asks, "How are you today?"  "Ok", I respond, not willing to say more. He tries to make my day better, "Just OK?" I smile and nod, I don't say more. "I guess that's better than So-so" he says with a smile. I know he's trying so hard to draw me out. I really don't want to go there with him, I really don't. Believe me dear clerk, the interaction will be more comfortable for both of us if I just smile and pretend.

If I tell you that my husband died just 4 short months ago, you will be uncomfortable, you might not know what to say. I have come into the store with the holiday happiness all around. I try to ignore it all. However, its hard. So, getting into this discussion with you that I'm really not even "ok" is probably more than you want to know, especially because I will probably cry. I'm just trying to make it through these days, doing my annual stuff. When really, on the inside, I don't really want to see the lights and the tinsel and the happiness. I just want to make it through this first of many holidays without him.

Please, dear clerk, don't ask me again. I don't want to make you feel badly for asking. There is a line of people behind me, I don't want to be sad and teary here in the store, I may not be able to control my tears today. Let's just go on and finish the transaction. We can finish this and I can walk away. You can go on without knowing my sorrow within. I just can't pretend too much right now, it hurts. Let me just go on with your smile and nod.

I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, I really do. You are just trying to make my shopping experience a good one. However, no matter what you say, no matter what I do, it won't be happy this year, maybe next. Maybe never. So, please, let's just finish this transaction, smile and move on. I will leave and keep you in the dark. I promise you it will be easier for both of us today. You will be none the wiser and I will not show my tears. Thank you for trying to make my experience better, for this year, it will be much better if I only say "thank you" and turn away.

Merry Christmas, dear clerk, please love those around you. Our time here is shorter than we want. I appreciate your kindness and the effort you showed. I'm sorry I was not in a position to join you making our transaction more joyful. I appreciate you kindness dear clerk. But for today, please know that although I didn't join you in a happy conversation, I do appreciate your motivation and kindness with me today. 

A Reason to Live

It's been 4 months today. Life goes on for me somehow. I go forth with the business of life just because I have to. I pay the bills, I wash my clothes. The pain that's there still the constant in my life. I try to move on, still wondering "why"? Why did You take him? Why could he not be healed? Why do I have to move on without him? And, of course, How? I'm not really angry, I just feel the pain. It's sorrow, its confusion, trying to let go once again.

I have things to do and a life of sorts now. What seems to be missing is the feeling of value and purpose. The reason I am here and that makes me feel whole. I wonder why I'm still here, the 'standard' answer is that God has not taken me home. There is more for Him to do with me now, but somehow that doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel fair. It does not excite me, nor give me hope. It simply means that for now, I live, I walk forward as there is no other choice.

The feelings still hurt, but I separate from those, I make choices in faith in spite of the tears in my heart. There is a purpose of that I am sure. A reason to care. I have not found it on this day four months in. I assume that one day I will. But, for now, I wait. I live without that answer, I wait until it comes. A time of reflection. A time of the unknown.  A time of faith. I know that God is here with me now even though things don't make sense. There are lessons to be learned, God's purpose for this life is to grow. To be more like Him through it all. That process includes walking through the valley to get to the other side.

The journeys I have faced in other times long ago, have never been fun nor have they been easy. They do produce fruit, the strengths of my being. The growth is often painful, a struggle and a death. A death of the weakness, the problem or my flaw. God brings me to a place where my strength is a reflection of His hand, the beauty the artwork drawn in my path. As I look back, I remember the pain, the struggle to be faithful in the midst of the walk. I draw upon these memories, these thoughts of times long ago.

Those remembrances bring about healing and peace in my life now. I guess its not time yet for that answer to be clear. I hold tight to my Savior knowing He sees what is ahead. I know He is here walking through the valley with me. The pain of my burden is shared by my Friend. That gives me comfort in this space that is my now. I continue through this path. I walk forward today with my eyes focused above. Knowing each day, that no matter what comes,  He will see me through until  there is sun on my path once again. 

Memories, Those Flaming Arrows

The hurricanes of emotion have come and they've gone. On some painful days, those hurricanes return. The pain is constant and then my heart weeps. The shores are still stirred up and the waters muddied on those days. They are fewer now than they were before.

The change I feel is pretty dramatic. When the pain hits on these days be sure, they are flaming arrows flying through the air. The arrows strike at some moment in time. Although the pain is not unexpected, when it hits it can be a surprise. At times they pierce the heart, the unexpected sharpness drives deep. The shock of the moment brings most everything to a halt. Its not the same hurt that I experienced before.

I'm living this life as normal as I can. Then this sneaks up from behind and takes my breath away for sure. Standing in the bedroom there's his familiar smell. Walking in the grocery, his favorite aisle to be endured. These little things remembered that take aim at my heart.The pain can be shocking and then takes its toll. It's exhausting be sure. I cancel my plans, go home and rest up. Those arrows take their toll like the hurricanes from before. 

He Took Care of Me

You know, I have always been a pretty independent woman. For better or worse, I have been strong and stubborn. Buddy used to call me the "German/Irish" side of the family, LOL. Being the follower was hard for me. I worried that somehow I would be less valuable, a lesser part of the whole. Somehow, by being the "follower", my role would be diminished, less important. and that somehow I would be unhappy with that place in our space. As we worked together and grew,  I realized that I was free to do what I enjoyed best without having to manage it all.

What I have learned now that he's gone is that he spent much time that last year, using those gifts preparing for me now. His decisions were specific, his preparations were clear. He was spreading his wings to make forward plans for my heer and now. Now that I have made it to this side of his death, I see the things he did in advance, he prepared a path making things ready for me, as much as he could anyway. In his kind way he thought ahead, prepared and put things in place. It was his love shown to me in his practical way.

It's made me stop, look back and reflect there from the place I am now, of all the ways he led our path, he prepared. He did that "administrator" thing. In the midst of his illness and impending end of life, he was concerned that I be cared for and put forth the effort in little things and big to help pave my way as I walk further here.

So, from this view now, I wonder why, way back then, I had such concerns at the start? My role of follower, caregiver and support was one I was made for and it fit me just right. It did not make me less important, just deeply loved. I learned to allow him to shelter me here. Now that he's gone I feel it acutely. My protector, my guy is no longer here. Without my knowledge, he did some preparation, I've experienced it now. It's just so odd to be back at the helm, living alone and filling his shoes. Funny how I miss that following role. When once I was concerned about letting it go, today I am sad that it is fully in my control. That role that was once so comfortable, not so now. 

I Hold You Deep Within

Today I am a 'me' instead of a 'we'. I am feeling less wounded. The cyclone has stilled. This life I am living seems more familiar again to me. But, when I take the time, to look deep within, into the corner of my heart, I see the scar, what's left of that wound, caused by the arrow that pierced me, going all the way through. My eyes tear up as I think of you there, lodged so deep inside of me, held so dear.

My sorrow has changed shape in the heart of the storm. It no longer consumes me all the day long. It is now just a pinch and a poke that goes deep. A thought or a sight of that thing right there before me, that speaks to me softly and reminds me of you. I stop and I listen. I can't help but cry. My hurricane is now a shower, the expression is the same, it's my love of you. I hold you and keep you near to my heart. I have now memories of those days we always shared. Our laughter, our sorrow, our frustration, our cares. Those days that we lived and the way we once were.

Today it's so different, it's about looking deep within. I hold you close in that scarred part of me. As I move on to tomorrow to seek out what is next. As I choose to do my part. I know you are here close to me as you once were. What is not as clear to me this day is where do I go?  What should I do? My life is a process of growing from here. Still working on becoming as the next season continues. I see mostly a blur. So I'm looking behind and I'm looking ahead. Bringing you with me, holding you dear. That piece that you occupy is part of my soul. You will be my guardian, always so near. I just am not sure now how to proceed. That path is uncertain from my outlook this day called today. I suppose I will know it when it is time to go. I just know I wish we could talk more as we walk on from here.

I take you with me as I move on from this space. The past is behind me, often clear as a bell. The path in front is a fog. But what I see now is the path of today. So, off we go, together in some way. 

Old Friends and New and Trying to Move On

Sitting in my house being mostly all alone. In my mind I walk around the crater that I see. What is my life, who do I see? How do I become productive again? What is important, what should I do? The appointments I put down seem to be all I have right now. People have called, people I've seen.

However, now its my life, it is up to me. There has been an explosion and there are pieces all around. How do I piece it together all again? Especially now that it is all together different. Its like the puzzle is now round where before it was square. What do I want? Who am I now? How does my life continue on in the present? I'm feeling more calm, although still very sad. My tears still appear, sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes they have a voice, a reason; other times they just are. Sometimes, things seem to work for awhile and then  seem to slide backwards again. Sometimes I have distractions for a time, out for coffee, an errand to complete, but there in the background the pain is always exists, waiting for my attention when those errands are complete.

There is a conflict living within me right now. Building a life for myself still means leaving you behind. How do I do that and still feel right? You are my partner, my love and my heart. Now I must build a new place for myself, that includes you somehow, but it's not like before. What does that look like, how do I proceed? My sorrow still fills me. Where do I put you, how does it look? I don't want to leave you, but what do I do? How do you fit in this new place of mine. Going and coming sometimes too much, I get fatigued easily which means I need rest. Balancing my need for activity and rest is an unexpected challenge. I wonder how long these emotions will drain me?

Facebook brings friends who are very near. New friends and old have listened to me here. Joining some groups have brought me more to do. Activity to create the distraction for me. New friends have only known me in the here and now. Old friends share the sorrow we bear. Both kinds, they touch me and hold me and accept the place I'm in at the moment. Probably seeing that place might change in the blink of an eye. Friends are a part of the growth of this new me. I don't want to do it, I don't really know how to do it. How do I bring you with me now? How do you fit into these pieces I hold? I don't know the answer to that question I seek. But as for friends, the old and the new, for them I've been thankful. I can see beyond the sorrow and pain, and I have seen the friends circling me in care, holding hands and standing around. Although they don't take it away, the sorrow the tears and the brokenness I feel. They hold me and love me in many different ways.They help provide the distraction that gets me through some of these days.  

Fly Free My Love

Today is the first Thanksgiving in 22 years that you and I are not together to celebrate. I grieve, oh how I hurt. But, today, I think about you, not me, YOU. Where you are now and what I know and understand about the place you live now that you are not here with me.

The streets are made of gold, there are mansions. The angels sing and worship the Lord, Our God. More importantly to me this day is that there is no pain, no suffering. You are healed, you are whole. Your body is no longer eaten up with the cancer you suffered those last months. You no longer suffer all of the pains and illnesses your earthly body experienced throughout your life. You can use that great mind again to problem solve, to plan a garden. You can smile and laugh and tease. Your burdens large and small have been lifted. So free, you are so very free. 

You experience no hurt, no hate, no dysfunction.You experience the purest peace from the Giver of peace. You are surrounded by the Purest love. You now see clearly the Love that I only see dimly now. The filters have been lifted and you can see Him and know Him fully. You are free, so very free.

So, Happy Thanksgiving, Baby. My greatest desire for you has always been that you are happy and at peace. I know that in the life you now lead, you experience both and so much more. You are healed and whole, with no more pain. There is no jealousy or hate, just love.

So although I suffer great pain because you are no longer here, I give thanks that you are free of all of the encumbrances  you had here. Watch over me here my love and fly free. Fly free as an eagle. Bask in the joy of His love. 

To Whom are You Clinging? Where are Your Eyes Focused?

You know what makes me sad? And sometimes, mad? Demanding, hurtful, manipulative and destructive behavior. When one chooses to walk with a lack of integrity but instead, chooses to be selfish, self centered. The behavior that is meant to give oneself attention. Or that tears the reputation of another to make oneself look better. At its core, this behavior is centered in our self, and self destructive sinful self. We all have these tendencies. We all struggle with our selfish behavior.

However, we have an amazing perfect example to follow, to set our eyes upon and to emulate. Sometimes, Jesus' love showed in His kindness. Sometimes it showed when he challenged the assumptions of His followers, encouraging growth in their faith, and example is Peter having faith until he was out in the water and sank. And, sometimes, His love was expressed in the performance of miracles...the feeding of the 5000 hungry followers or the healing of the blind man. 

Other times, the love of Jesus was not expressed in the same gentle and kind ways. Remember, He became angry and cleared the temple of those using it for their own material wealth. He refused to follow the "accepted" religious precepts of the day. Their self righteousness was exposed. Love does not always give one warm fuzzies. It can be the hard words to say, the firm guidance or the parent who allows their child to fail so that they have an opportunity to learn and grow. But, even these times, that love is not for one's self, doing the hard love is still for the betterment of the one that is loved. This is the Perfect Love that we have as an example.

When we walk through life with our eyes focused upon those around us to "give" us what we "need",consciously or unconsciously, we have taken our eyes off of Jesus and placed them on the person or people around us. We begin to demand approval, or someone to tell us how great we are. There is nothing wrong with someone telling us this, but our actions cornering someone into uttering those words becomes the problem. Rather than setting our dependence upon our Savior, the people around us become responsible to meet those "needs". And the needs become demands. As a result, our relationships are no longer based in love and acceptance, but in demands and holding our family member hostage. The taking instead of giving. Demanding instead of accepting. As a result, we build a cyclone of dysfunction.

In the bible, God says,  that He shall provide all of our needs according to His riches in Glory. And, that He cares for the birds that sow, surely, He will care for us more than those.
So, my question today is where are your eyes focused? Are those around you free to move into and out of your life as they choose? Do they feel compelled to release themselves from your grasp? Do they feel your love, honor and respect? Do those that love you make the hard choice to speak the truth no matter how hard? Do you spend your energy speaking love and compassion into the lives of others? Are you invested in building people up rather than tearing them down?

Look to Jesus for your direction, for your forgiveness. Because I assure you, that we all fall down. We all fall short of this goal. We all need His grace and maybe the forgiveness of others. Release those you love into His hands and free them from your grasp. Jesus is our answer.......

Time for Regeneration

In the midst of grief, everything makes me tired.The circle of life starts in a low energy mode and goes from there. If the day is relatively smooth, the energy doesn't run out. But if there is any bump in the road, that is not the case. I find a shirt that still has his smell attached. That small little thing is like an arrow to my hears. I weep. The storm passes and then feel fatigue and need time to regenerate.
I feel the need to write, the process of emptying the "feeling bin" inside of me can be exhausting. Sometimes, the process brings up those tears. Those tears use what energy exists for the day. I feel the need for time to regenerate. Sometimes, there is a hurt, a frustration and because that "feelings bin" is never quite empty, the energy is used as the feelings overflow and my energy becomes drained once again. I feel the need to regenerate. I spend time with friends and have a good day, you know as good as days are right now. There is laughter and smiles, yet when I come home, there is exhaustion. I feel the need to regenerate.
A nap usually helps. But, I wonder what is up. It makes me wonder if one day soon, I will have a "normal" day and not have my fuel tank on empty again? Will I ever have a day of normal energy again? Will I get to a point that those moderate feelings just are and do not derail the day? Will there come a time when regeneration is not a daily thing? The questions are firm, then answers are few. I walk in this path, only observing what I am. Giving myself time and assurance of what I need. I just sometimes wish for an hour of "just normal" once again. 

This "Thing" Called a Death Certificate

When someone dies, there is this "thing" called a death certificate. Everybody needs one. So, as if the death of my loved one is not hard enough, but everywhere I go, I have to take one of these with me. Its as if his death is not hard enough, but then I have been given the task of erasing every evidence of his existence, at least on paper and according to all of the "powers that be".

So, I go and face the fact that here is one more place that I remove him. Don't they know that it hurts that I have been given the task of step by step remove his presence from my life, even if it is only on paper. Don't they understand that he is of more value than this 'official' piece of paper called a death certificate? He is more than a name, a social security number, a date and a cause of death? And, its me who has to get the strength and courage to walk into your office to do this. It's me who is held to the task. To pretend its okay to have him taken away. Inside I struggle. Some days I can do it, others, I have to put it off for one more day. And, every day I work to get the energy becomes another day I am exhausted with the effort. 

Don't they care that he was a husband, a father, a son and a brother? Don't they get it that just because they can erase him from their databases, he was so much more than that to us? That it hurts those of us who loved him to have his whole presence wiped off the books? To them, he's a number, one of trillions. But to us, those who loved him. He is unique, he is ours, he is our one an only. So, today, this paper that removes him from all of the official places, cannot remove him from us, our minds, our hearts. He is forever loved.  

Ok, It's My Life Now

We were an "us" for over 22 years. We made choices together. Anything from what was for dinner to large purchases and even starting our own business together. Suddenly, it is back to me making choices on my own. I don't have you here to bounce ideas off or to help me think through things. Its me, myself and I. Before I met you, I used to do this freely as I was older when we met and had lived many years on my own. However, now if feels harder than before. Now it feels lonely. Now it reminds me that you aren't here. It's back on me again.

We had decisions to make. Sometimes, we were of the same persuasion. But, there were so many other times that we struggled. You know that we had different personalities and therefore looked at the world differently. Sometimes, that compromise we had to make was So very hard. I wanted what I wanted; you wanted what you wanted. I thought one way was the right choice, you thought a different way was the better path. We talked, sometimes we argued.  The struggle to bring both perspectives together was at times like pulling teeth.  It is that blending of each other so that we fit together. It is that in the miraculous bonding and molding that is God's hand. Almost like he has to sand and smooth each to create a tighter fit. Marriage is not the only time this happens, but somehow it is the most intense. It is that when He is the author and creator of our faith, those hard times make us stronger. We become purified like fine gold. It is not easy. Nor is it fun. But, there was a bond that formed through it all that transformed us. We became 2 parts to one piece. One was the jewel, one was the gold, together a most beautiful creation.

So, here I am, that bond will hold us together forever, yet, you are not here with me now. Here I am making all the choices on my own again. I wonder if I am making the right one. Somehow, all those years of having you here, balanced my outlook somewhat. I find making these decisions on my own harder now than I did before we met. The compromise that was at times so hard is now missing. I get to do whatever I want now, there is no longer a compromise, no discussion. No work to make a decision that we both are happy with. Yet somehow, I'd give anything to have one of our many discussions again. To have to struggle to come to a compromise. Today, becoming one again to guide my path isn't what I really want. It isn't what I would do. But, today, and tomorrow, and probably the day after that, I no longer have that bondedness. I no longer have that building together. And for all of these days, I will miss that bond, that struggle, that togetherness that made us who we were, I will be gold without my jewel. Pretty, but not complete. 

Life in the Sun

Today I have sorrow and I weep that is true. A grieving widow now thrown for a loop. The hurtful, the painful opinions abound. It's never been different, it's always the same. The big difference now is that I am weak from my grief. Darts filled with poison have entered me whole. My strength drains from me, the knife takes its toll. I struggle to function and have slipped back in a hole. I rest for awhile and then climb out again. One day in the future, I will be stronger once again. However, today is the day I begin with decisions.

I find you destructive, so hurtful, so canned. Your actions remind me of my pity again. When life is filled with the bitter and misery abound. You spout your destruction on those all around. It's hurtful and it is wrong. You drive folks away from your sorry self. You live in a dream world where you know it all. Unfortunately, those around you have learned to let you fall.

My choice is to live in the sun. Your filth causes clouds and so I walk away once again. You have no power over the life that I lead. I choose to remove the toxic, that means that you have to go. Not sorry for the empty space that you used to fill. My life has more value and I get to choose the flowers that grow there, the seeds that I sow. When weeds spring up it is my job to pull. Make room for more flowers, then water and watch. God's bringing me wholeness with His loving touch.

So today is the day I pull up my weeds. Walking further along the path, I will heed. So many have cared for me all along. You deserve the trash can and off you go. Away from my garden, your force no longer full. I have the choice to pull our your roots. Today I rise up and build a life in the sun. 

Love in Different Seasons....A Tribute to 2 Gentle Men, Buddy and Eric

Vulnerability and trust never came easily to me. I spent many years being frightened of the hurt. There have been 2 men in my life that I've loved deeply with all of my heart. The first was a friend of my youth. We learned to be friends, to be real and vulnerable and through all of the hurt we cared for each other. We dreamed, felt the disappointment and accepted each other for who we were as individuals. We supported each other with the innocence of our youth.
We went on our way, each given a separate path, moving right along. We reconnected for a few short years. We picked up again right where we left off. Laughing and joking but loving the trust. He with his family, me with my crew. We now had the maturity of growth under out belts. It was the same but it was also different. We had both experienced sorrow and joy. We expected that we would have time across the miles to share. Sadly, that was not to be. He became sick and then he was taken, moving on from this earth. Jesus had another angel looking over me. How thankful I was that we had those last few years. To share and love in spite of the miles separating us. He was an artist with a camera. One day they visited. Eric, sharing his gift, leaving me a legacy. Now that he's gone, I look at these pics. Thankful for our friendship, our trust, the gift of the friend of my youth.

The next was my Buddy, coming to me rather late. His kind, gentle spirit a balm to my fears. We married, we bonded and grew together as one. Our trust ran so deep,this man of my heart, my love and my care.This man was my soulmate be sure. Once again there was the vulnerability of deep friendship and the conversations so dear. God used each other to build something so dear. We built a life together and shared life's hurdles and joys. We laughed, we cried, we were angry and we enjoyed. Through it all our marriage was pure. We thought we had time and years of our age. Sadly, once again, it was not in the Great Master plan. My gentle man became sick and then was taken from me. Once again, heaven received another angel, he was mine. 

So different they were but of this one thing so sure, they both knew me deeply, vulnerable and true. They knew my bumps and wrinkles and flaws. They both chose to love me and for that I am glad. They each and cared for me during the seasons we shared. Eric in my youth, Buddy later on. And now both have been taken, I'm not sure why. But, I do know one thing as they stand up above. They are sharing their thoughts and comparing of notes. Probably laughing and joking as each knew how.  As different as they were in this life that they lived, the men I befriended shared certain traits. They loved the family God put in their life. They struggled with the hurts that they experienced here. They stood tall for all that was Pure. They did their best in the life they were given. They both stood for Jesus in their own unique way. This is a testament as one who was there. One friend one husband, both taken so young.  Rest in peace my Loves be sure. Your families and friends miss your bright care. And, I will love you and miss you while I am still here. 

The Path to Mending

The overwhelming hurricane of grief has subsided somewhat. The gut wrenching grief only strikes on occasion now instead of my constant companion. The scars of my woundedness  feel like they are mending. I don't feel crushing sadness all of the time. But, you know, there is a grief I feel because of the mending. A sadness because it is a goodbye, a letting go. An acceptance of that which is no longer. It hurts my heart  just to write that down. I don't want to be mending, I don't want to accept. I want him here, I want my life back. I don't want to walk this path. It is inevitable I suppose. One cannot exist forever in the throes of the torn.

So now you are gone, taken from me so young, how do we function now and again? How do I hold you dear to my heart. There is a new course that is unclear to me yet. You will always be a part of my life. I just can't see clearly the path that we take. Who am I now  and how do we fit? What do we look like and where do I stand? The path is not clear and my steps are unsure. I feel like I'm walking but uncertain as to where. I just know if hurts me to feel myself mend. There's a conflict within me, I don't know where it ends. I just know I feel like I've lost you so close. I don't know what we look like now that I'm here alone. Where do I put you, where do you belong? How does the "us" now exist? 

Nothing Really Matters

There is a lifelessness to the feeling that "nothing really matters". It has to do with an apathy, the fact that I have no life. I have no purpose. My husband is no longer here. No one to support, no one to care for, cook for, be with here. There is a hole in my life, there is a nothingness here. I can't bring myself to care. I can't decide what to do. My decisions are inconsequential, because nothing really matters anyway. Eat? Sleep? yes, I guess I will. Do I really need to get up and shower? maybe I'll just stay here.

I eat to keep going forward, I sleep because it is easier than being awake. My hurts and my sadness exhaust me anyway, so sleep occupies my day. Should I go somewhere, I don't know where. Maybe I'll just stay here. It really is not important, because nothing really matters. My heart is empty, my life as well. I can't seem to think. It's really just as well. I don't really care if I come or I go. There is sorrow and I wonder, "Will I ever really care again?" My heart is heavy my mind is in neutral. I can't say I really function, I just exist because I haven't been taken home as of yet.

I find in my heart a sad sad pain, I wonder if my world will ever feel good and happy again? Even just not sad would be a step up. It's not here right now, it's not on here tomorrow. But, for right now, the goal is only to put one foot in front of the other, one day to the next. The sorrow driving my feeling says that nothing I do really matters any more. I have no purpose, I have no care. I just continue on because I am here.  

Making the Choice to Live with Passion

There are several Contemporary Christian musicians who I enjoy listening to. Many of the songs that touch me are those that reach deep inside and nuzzle my heart...especially when I am sad. There is a parallel between the message to the song and my sadness woven within these songs. It is like there is resonance between the message and my emotional struggle.

One of those artists is Rich Mullins. Sadly, he was killed in an automobile accident on the way to a concert back in the early 90s. There are several reasons I connected with Rich and his music. I think there is no question that Rich's personality was that of a melocholy personality, with a good dose of the sarcastic humor mixed in.  You can hear it in his music as he questioning of his faith. He questioned God and that wrestling, that anger, that desire to follow God, He had a knowledge that God is not threatened or angry that we question or wrestle with the truth. His songs highlight that there is honesty in the struggle And when his music worships, the depth of the emotion within that worship causes me to lift my arms and  Praise....

Another thing I appreciated about him is that he was rather a nonconformist. Buddy and I attended a concert where he performed the concert in cargo shorts and bare feet. I think he was a perfectionist about his writing and his music, but he didn't buy into the "perfect Sunday dress" makes for a perfect Christian life. There was a realness about him that quenched my thirst. Towards the end of that concert, he asked the audience if he had offended us yet? That his goal was to "offend" everyone in the audience at least once. His reason was to challenge the status quo that many of us in the church (I use that term meaning the as the group of people making up the community, not the building), live our lives in. Those of us who have been in that community slip into automatic and simply accept what is spoken and offered, we do not question. He encouraged that wrestling and questioning that was a part of his life, probably because by going through that process, one makes the faith their own. Makes them more open to God's leading as well.

A third thing I appreciated about him was that being a Christian was also fun. Not all sourpuss and sorrow. As I have read about his life and those who he influenced (who were interviewed after his death), life was a wild ride. They laughed and had fun as they made a difference in the lives of others.
He was a man of passion and conviction who loved God and others deeply, and challenged the friends around him and the audiences across America to make a choice, Stand up and be committed.

In my early years of living a life of faith, and even now, there is comfort in seeing his struggle as I struggle in my own life. The ability to express oneself with the heartbreak and the pain is something I have in common with him and it soothes me to see his process as well. The nonconformist in me appreciates a kindred spirit and encourages me to enjoy my faith. And, the one I find most difficult:  to take a break from the serious and have a good belly laugh. Anyway, I am not putting him on a pedestal, but I found his brand of person (at least his public personality), refreshing. 

Some of his music if you want to Google him are: Awesome God, If I Stand, Step by Step. 

In being respectful of copyright laws, I will not post a picture here but give you a link:
https://www.google.com/?gws_rd=ssl#safe=active&q=rich+mullins

My Husband Passed Away Tonight

My husband passed away tonight. Last year when the news came, I was completely in shock, incurable they said. Treatment forever and that treatment will not forever control the disease. At some point, his life will be taken. There is no cure. I thought this cannot be. No, Oh No, this can't be.

My husband passed away tonight. Its been so painful lately. Standing by his side, fighting a disease that stole him piece by piece day after day. And, each step was lost more quickly than the last. Headaches, seizures, ambulances and hospitals. Home again, treatments and more seizures. Then he couldn't walk, then the headaches became worse. Then he couldn't eat. Then he was sedated for comfort. So then, I couldn't visit with him. Oh I could speak but there was no visible response to my love and care. And still there was his pain returning here.

My husband passed away tonight. He is finally at rest. Finally he is pain free. He is gone from me, yes, he's left this body behind. He is free and at peace, no longer suffering. And now, he sits with Jesus, healed and whole. He can laugh and tease and think and love again. His soul is forever free. One day I will see him, of that I know. What joy it will be to hold him again. But for now I will miss him and I  cry. Oh my the sorrow, how my heart grieves. My husband passed away tonight.

Expectations, the Death of Respect

When I was a child, my parents had expectations of me. To follow instructions, to be a good girl, to do my best in school, to be respectful of my elders. Maybe you had expectations made of you as well. To clean your room, to do your chores, to play fair. Most of us know what was expected of us. The 'house rules' if you will. I remember on my 18th birthday thinking, "Huh, I am now responsible for my own actions.....as if I wasn't yesterday". And had a good chuckle with myself.

As we become adults, begin interacting in our grown up world, there is a thing called respect. One of those childhood expectations we learned. Hopefully, it is something we earn. Hopefully, it is something we give to others around us....maybe they have to earn it as well. When I was a young adult, I had a habit of placing high expectations in the relationships around me. It was grounded in an unwillingness to trust others or to be vulnerable. If I look deeper, it also reflected a lack of trust in God and usually resulted in a strong need to control. I was in my mid 20's when I chose counselling. My seemingly unconscious expectations was one of them.  So, please know that I am not pointing fingers, but to offering food for thought.

Something it took many years for me to discover, is this need for control shows a lack of respect to the friend/spouse. Somehow, the husband is suppose to do something that the wife thinks they should do (or visa versa). Not because the husband chooses the thing, but because his wife does. There is an argument if he doesn't do "it". And, either he does it to keep the peace. Or, he becomes the a**hole because dares have the audacity to stand up for himself and say no. I have even had one person tell me that if the other 'really loved' them, they would choose to do it because it is 'so important' to their spouse. The kind of things I am talking about are such as picking up their laundry in the time frame that the spouse expects it to be done. Or buying flowers on Valentines Day.

And, you know, maybe the spouse should do those things. However, for the purpose of today's thoughts, I am thinking only of the one with the expectations that are somehow being used as a measurement of their spouse's love. What is the basis of those expectations?  Why is it necessary for the spouse to make demands? If an action is demanded of a person, and they obey, is he response really an act of love? Does the spouse with expectations feel loved or more that they just got what they expected? To use another example: when a parent demands that an adult child call them weekly, or come to visit in a time frame that the parent deems acceptable, how is that love? Conversely, if the spouse does not do whatever was expected of them, or the child does not come to visit on the prescribed schedule, does that mean that the offending person does not love the demander (if that is a word)? Is the demanding person respecting the demandee (sorry)? And, what does this say about respect or lack there of?

It seems to me that the better choice is to accept the ways that one's spouse shows love/respect. I've heard it called the Love Language. Does that mean that there should be no discussion about each partners perspective on the issue? No, conversation and vulnerability on both sides is healthy. No, I hope you understand I am not talking about behaviors that cause demean or abuse either spouse. I am thinking about how our "expectations" become disrespect in the relationships that are nearest to our hearts.

I believe that the baseline behavior here revolves around trust. Or lack there of. We don't trust our spouse to love us or give us what we "need", so we put expectations on them. I also wonder about how our expectation affects our loved one's self esteem. It also bears looking at our individual relationship with God and focusing on our trust in Him. We might not all have the same view of God and his relevance in our life.
Here are some of my perspectives related to this subject:

1. He give us a choice as to our relationship with Him. Does He hurt when we choose to close the door? Absolutely. Does He demand that we open it? No.
2. Is He saddened when we think He is demanding of us or some big Rule Master who cares not for our love but only for our cold obedience?  I believe so.

 Am I willing to trust that God holds me in His hand, that He will provide for me as He has promised. And to allow that trust in Him to release my grip on the inappropriate expectations I have of others. How much healthier will our relationships be if we accept that others have the right to make their own choices without us trying to control their behavior? How much more will we feel their love if we learn the language they speak? How freeing will it be when each spouse chooses to trust God with our needs and love our spouse independently?

I struggled with this especially early in my marriage. I realized that Buddy was not perfect, neither am I. And, he was not responsible to fulfill my expectations. It was my job to hear his love language and see the things he did that expressed love for me rather than telling him how he was going to calm my insecurities......which is really what I think these expectations express. The interesting thing is the more I practiced releasing my friends and family and holding onto God, the easier it got and the more successful I became.

So, here's to practicing love that frees our loved one to share their love and we hear it effectively as we release our expectations and offer them our respect. 

The Cavern

I look in the distance and what do I see? A cavern, a hole and I think "Oh, it's me".

Where did it come from, what do I do? There's emptiness within, a space he used to fill. 
There are errands to run and expectations abound. I see the 'death duties' all around. 
I see not the value nor feel that I care. I exist in the vacuum, no purpose right there.
I don't find the fuel to energize my day. Love all around me doesn't help find my way.
There is sadness and pain, back to emptiness again.
The hole is overwhelming. The lack of a soul.
I live in an emptiness and really don't care. I can smile and laugh. But, I always come back there. The cavern, the soul, there's an emptiness here. 

What makes me happy, that I cannot say? It seems like it's nothing, I can't find the way.
I sit and I pray knowing He hears my pain. One day in the future I'll see sunlight again.
I climb on the lap of the Lord God Almighty, knowing His mercy, compassion and grace. 

I open the door to my soul, my sorrow and pain. And allow Him to take the emptiness away.

Bailey and Sketty and Uncertainty

Dogs have always been part of my life. Today, I have 2 dogs. They are Sketty, the Corgi General and Bailey the lovable, goofy mutt. Both are rescues with different stories. Both exhibit personality issues probably caused in some way because of that story. Sketty came to us with a very emotionally shut down and distant. He watched the goings on from afar. If they came too close too quickly, he would leave the room, or growl to protect himself from the apparent incoming danger. His "job" in life is to protect. Protect me from the UPS truck, noises of a cell phone and from the squirrels in the back yard.  Bailey came to us a "Nervous Nellie". She was attached to me always and was scared of noises, tennis balls and being outside by herself. She has lovingly been called our "Attention Whore" because it was, in her opinion our job to pet her 24/7. If you stopped petting her and just hold her, she's done, she moves on to the next person (ah...Sucker)....

As they have learned that they are now home, they have each settled in and their "issues" have lessened. Sketty stays in the room with me more. And on occasion, he comes over to tell me he wants attention, always when he decides its time. And, has learned that attention is nice.  Bailey has decided that Teddy bear or rope is really fun and that going outside is no longer scary because Sketty has taught her to scare off the birds. She has also decided that food is of greater importance than attention. They have each been affected by Daddy's death differently. Sketty now sleeps back in the corner of the room behind the little rocker. Bailey, lies quietly in my arms for long periods of time without moving. He has become more distant, she more needy. They each have moved more into the "issues" they initially exhibited. Why do I tell you all of this? Although I do enjoy talking about my pups (ask me about Rocky sometime :), it is to make another point. 

How do we as friends of the one suffering loss love and support them? My observation here is that in the midst of loss, we move in the direction of our comfort zone. And you, friend of the grieving one, may have a different comfort zone than your grieving friend. Your best opportunity is to follow them into their place. Don't let your automatic mode kick in here. You being uncertain and uncomfortable may try to comfort by pulling them into your place. Follow them, do not lead. Will it be uncomfortable? Yes. Will you know what to do? Maybe, maybe not. And THAT'S OK. Remember, it’s about walking beside them. Let them know that you are there. 

It has meant much to me that friends have shown up, and said "I can't imagine what you are feeling right now" or "I don't know what to say”. That they chose to be into my space with me. If I had the opportunity to offer one piece of advice, it would be to not say "let me know what I can do"....Do something. Bring a meal, go out for coffee, send a card, sit close and listen. When one is drowning in confusion, your grieving friend may not be able to tell you what you can do for them. And, as with my Sketty and Bailey, the place of grief may be different for each friend.

It is an Apple Cart

It is an apple cart, a display. Red and green the fruit displayed to feed the families who shop here. Why does this little wooden display cause so much pain? Why is it that these little round fruit make me struggle to maintain? Makes it hard to go on?

It is because of us. You and me. Who you became in my life. Who I became in your life. Who we became together. Many would not understand. But, for us, it worked. We lived with passion in our fun; we lived with passion in our sorrow. We exuded passion in our conflict. Our life together was honest. Our bond was palpable, our peace was full. We were, through it all, friends. Friends who knew the other, the good, the bad and the ugly. Your strengths balanced me. My strengths supported you.

 We learned to laugh about those miscommunications that existed simply (or maybe not so simply) because we spoke different languages. The communication became about more than being hurt because we were not heard. It became about more than pointing out that flaw. There came an acceptance of what we each were (and were not) and that sometimes things simply would not flow smoothly. That sometimes, you just needed to be who you were, and I needed to be who I was and together we needed to build that bridge toward the other. To stand together upon it in the midst of those differences. To allow the storm to flow under us and not consume us. The understanding that the only thing that we can expect is that we will be different by God's design. We will come from different sides. And we learned NOT to label it "bad" or "wrong"  but simply "different". And that difference will sometimes will cause conflict. That we choose to build towards each other not apart. That in the midst of it all "You" is important. "Me" is important. "Us" is important. Each of these is more important that being the same, being right or being without conflict. Each of these is more important than being correct or pointing out the error/flaw. That destroying the "You" or the "Me" destroys the "Us". 

This is why that little wooden cart can bring me to my knees. That when I walk by and remember that Fuji was your favorite, but that any (except maybe a red delicious) would do. That you loved them raw, you loved them cooked. You would eat them until the drawer in the fridge was empty. It is because I knew you. I was given the absolute gift of being your friend, your wife. And I was given the privilege of knowing all the little things about you that made you, You. And that together, we were "Us". 

Its Called Widowhood

August 7, 2015. The day I began the journey of walking forward without him by my side. I felt many things. Pain and sorrow, grief and anger, confusion, uncertainty, relief that he no longer suffered. Relief that I had the strength to support him until his last breath. A feeling of life being overwhelming on many fronts. 

There was a feeling that he was too young to die, I mean he was only 55. And I was FAR too young to be a widow. I began to try on that new label, "widow". It was uncomfortable. My days consisted of trying to make sense of it all. To find a path that was unclear from this vantage point. To return to a life of 'singleness' again after years of marriage. It didn't fit quite right. The "us" that we had worked so hard to become was now a "me" Over 20 years, God had brought us together and cemented that bond in ways that I would never fully understand until that day came when he was physically no longer here. "Widow". That new label was distasteful.

'Widow' was supposed to encapsulate it all. To give meaning to my new state of being. This new single-ness, cast upon me without my permission, without me having a say in the matter of what "we" were to become, what "I" was to become. I hated that term."Widow". He was no longer physically here with me.  What was I to do with myself now? We were bonded for decades and especially these past months, my life was filled not only loving and supporting him but caring for his needs and letting him know I was here. That I would not falter. That although wounded by the path we were given, I would be here. I would be present and would be walking this path with him, by his side. Lending strength, lending an ear. And when that was no longer possible, holding his hand, his heart.
So now, I'm a widow. There is an alone-ness here, even when there is activity. Like a heart that is torn in two. The life we lived together, that is no longer. How do I function? How do I go on? What do I do? Is it worth the effort? Can I become "single": again? Is it worth the effort? Can my life have value? What does it matter? Does anything really matter now that I am no longer whole? 

The strongest feeling by far was that I was no longer whole. A portion of me had been torn away, an amputation of sorts. A wounded-ness that initially requires drastic life-saving measures, to staunch the bleeding, cauterizing the wounds, providing support so that the body is given the support it needs to begin to heal itself. It (the body) then works to normalize itself without that limb. With the gaping wounds, the body works to maintain itself without succumbing to the traumatic event, a sealing of those wounds. The stitches bind the wound, the swelling subsides, the partial limb survives. But, it is not whole, it is forever changed. So, with time, one learns to walk again. Not the same as before, not really whole, but modified to function without that limb in the space it used to occupy. "Amputation" seems like a synonym for "Widow". 

"Widowhood". Over the past couple of months, the uncomfortableness with the label has changed, but it still does not sit well. The hate has transformed to dislike. I imagine that over time, it will become familiar even though it really doesn't fit. That widowhood is not really me. It is a role cast upon me that I did not choose to audition for. But, it sits here with me anyway. 

Day by Day

Over the past 18 months or so, I have spent much time writing. It started with posting to a Caring Bridge site and Facebook page. My goal was to easily get information to friends and family easily. Many who cared would be able to get information about how Vern (and I) were doing from day to day, week to week. How the struggle with treatment and trying to bring healing to his body. Somewhere along the line,as I wrote those updates, I began to place a piece of my heart into each post.

Then, in April-May of this year, Vern began going down hill again, in June, the slide became even more difficult, headaches, trips to the ER, and more tests. His final downhill slide had come and after a few weeks with Hospice care, Vern passed away in August. The stress was great, of course and the pain intense. Writing became a way of release for my pent up emotions while he was sick and the during the weeks afterward, my journal was never far away. I was alone much of the time, and my journal allowed me to pour out my soul and make sense of all of the emotional hurricanes that passed through. It has been almost 3 months now. I find I am not writing as much, however, my journal is still nearby.

Over the space of this time, I have been encouraged to continue writing. In the past weeks, I have felt compelled to write sometimes for myself, but other times to reach out. To speak whatever gift I have been given. So, today, I write, I start with the intention of turning my writing again to sharing a piece of my heart.