Tag: change

Sometimes Life Brings Sunshine with Less Rain…

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November, 2024

Life has been a little different lately. There have been some changes that some people close to me are aware of, but I haven’t been ready to talk to all of you about it yet, although I alluded to the idea of it back around June or July.

I began dating several months ago and met a few nice people who weren’t a good fit for me. I met one or two definitely not so nice ones, too. 😒
Then, the end of September, I met someone who was different than the others. I expected it to take quite awhile to find anyone who could handle my red-headed fuse, my breed of crazy, my life traumas and emotional turbulence.
I had begun praying over it months ago, that if God had a plan to keep me from spending the rest of this life lonely, He would plant someone in my path and let me know it. I didn’t know He had already sent someone born and raised in Idaho, who had moved around the country a bit since then, to Florida about a year ago as a project manager for a disaster relief construction company. But I wouldn’t have been ready by the time they finished the work that Idalia provided. Then Debby hit, slowing down the work and adding more. Then Helene and Milton. Now the work he has in Taylor County will last until next spring. That kept him here long enough for me to realize that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life all alone and then gave time for God to arrange a meeting and some time to get to know each other. Sorry about all the hurricanes, everyone; it seems they were about me. (Joking…joking…😂) For the record, I will not be moving away; that is not an option for me and he is aware of that.

It’s too soon to start saying things like forever since it’s only been a couple of months but he sure does seem to like me an awful lot, and I’m already pretty fond of him, too. I, of all people, know that forever is relevant to each individual because Scott was able to move his forever into his new address sooner than we realized it would happen. This person reminds me a lot of Scott in some ways. He’s a very hard worker with an impeccable work ethic; when he’s at actual work or whether he is helping me with projects I’ve wanted to get done in my yard. He is like an Energizer bunny and has my energy beat by a mile (although life has slowed me down a lot the last eighteen months.) He also enjoys doing things just because they make me happy, and that was my husband, day in and day out, for as long as we loved. I definitely don’t deserve someone else who strives to make my life easier and enjoyable but it seems that God is determined to show me what He thinks of me in order to detract from what I tend to think of myself. God says I am blessed, highly-favored, and adored so it appears that He may have sent someone else along to remind me of that fact, that I have not been forgotten in my grief but that He was still right here all along, planning to give me a hope and a future.

Best of all, he is patient with my grief process. I still go through a lot of emotions, not just with the loss of my husband but also with the idea of spending time with someone new. I pray over it. I have to sit with it a lot. I worry. I stress. And then I keep walking forward into whatever God has for me, whatever that looks like. This man has given me space when I need it, let me talk about Scott when I need to, let me talk about hurt when I need to, and then sometimes cheered me up when I needed that, too. And on the days when I just don’t really want to be “cheered up,” he lets me handle that how I need to as well, knowing there may be plenty of days in my future when I struggle with the ever-present remnants of this path I walk. I’ve told him, point blank, that my in-laws are still my family and that will not change. He asked when he could meet them. I told him I will not ever erase Scott from my home and my life. He said “I would never expect you to; you love him.” He has never once acted intimidated or frustrated by the fact that loving Scott is something that will never disappear. and he never expects me to apologize for that.

So, I’m here today telling all of you, those who have followed my grief journey and other paths of trauma with me before that, that I have a boyfriend (I don’t know why that sounds so high school, to be saying that at more than fifty years old) and I am enjoying days of sunshine and light in my world again. You all know my boys, our three girls, and my sweet granddaughter have kept the lights on for me enough to walk to this place, but the future on this old ragged earth sure feels a little brighter with this new kind of hope in it.

I know that some may judge my choice to keep walking forward. My children have all met him (and several of my adopted kids, too.) They get along with him and have expressed that they are happy to see me happy. I’ve also talked at length with my mother-in-love about this and even she reassured me that Scott would have hated seeing me miserable and so very sad; she said he’d be thankful to see me happy again. I absolutely know, too, without a doubt, that if Scott could have met him while he was here, they would have been fast friends. Neither one of them ever met a stranger and both could talk to anyone they meet as if they’d known each other for years. Most importantly for me, though, is that God hasn’t once told me to turn around and walk away. My footsteps are ordered and in line with His will because He’d sure let me know if they weren’t. So I’m hoping those of you who may feel like this is too soon will give me some grace while I work out my emotions myself and maybe even pray for me as I learn how to traverse this new path. I just wanted to share some light after the darkness you’ve all walked with me. ℒℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁.

Talk, Talk, Talk…

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I talk to myself more than I used to. And I don’t just mean in my bedroom before bed at night, having the conversations we used to have and telling him how much I love him and miss him. I mean in the grocery store, at the DMV, in my back yard. Doesn’t matter if other people are there, apparently, because I realized this was occurring while in Walmart when a lady looked at me like I was schizophrenic as I had a discussion with myself about which vegetable would go better with the supper I was planning. Yes, it’s like that.

I’ve decided that it’s safer to leave the house with my granddaughter in tow because at least then people will assume I’m talking to her. And I don’t really even know WHO I’m actually talking to (which may be even more scary.) Is this some leftover habit of talking things through with my husband? I don’t know because we didn’t really always discuss what vegetable to have. I’m excusing myself when I burp at home and, just being honest, I didn’t always do that anymore with him either.

On one hand, I’m home with a toddler most of the day every day and have very little adult interaction overall. Maybe it’s just that I have a quota of words that I need to spend each day (if you know me in person then you already know that’s typically a high number) and I’m just fulfilling the minimum requirement to relieve the pressure of holding it in all the time. I think I drive my boys (autocorrect just changed ‘boys’ to ‘joys’ and that’s true, too) crazy wanting to talk forever when I do see them because I have to fit it all in somewhere.

Loneliness has a way of creeping up on you, too, though. My person isn’t here. When I talk to my mother-in-law (love) we can talk for long periods because the loss is a hole too deep to ever fill but maybe talking eases it some. Maybe talking to air is some strange way of placating the monster of loneliness. I just don’t know. I also haven’t talked to another widow about this (yet) so I don’t know if this is…common. I won’t say “normal” because that’s only a setting on the washing machine. In people, there’s no real “normal” because it’s okay to be whoever you are, but some things are more common.

Ultimately, what I have come to realize is that I’m not directing as much of that loneliness, that random talking anywhere and everywhere, up to God. Why am I talking to an unrecognizable void rather than to the Living God? The one who never leaves. The one who always stays. The one who is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient: all powerful, everywhere, and knows all. My words should be directed at my power source. Over the past year, when my spirit has not wanted to live in this realm any longer, Abba God came through every single time and reminded me that He is still here and He has a plan; I just need to wait for it to be revealed in a way I am able to understand. Mind you, I do pray, but there is still all this extraneous talking that I apparently feel the need to do to no one in particular. I can definitely make better use of those words.

I don’t even know if this is a “stage” other people go through but, if you’re here with me, I see you! I truly believe that God never leaves us alone. If you can’t feel Him there, someone else is feeling what you do and you just have to find the helpers. The whole beauty from ashes? Sometimes it’s when God uses us to help those who come to a place after we do. We are the map. If you’re in that place where you feel lost, I hope something I say gives you a place on the map to start.

Change is the only Constant

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I’m not who I was a year ago. There are parts that are healing. There are parts that still feel beyond repair but I know they will heal…they just won’t ever look or feel the same where the scar lies. There are parts that are wiser (about things I don’t really want to be wiser.) There are parts of me that still can’t figure things out. All I know is that change is the only constant in life. How ironic is that?

The one year “anniversary” of my nephew’s death is next Tuesday. It feels weird to call it an anniversary – those are supposed to be happy occasions, like birthdays…but those aren’t as happy either anymore. After we fumble our way through that day, it is only 16 days until it’s been a year for me, too. It’s like there is a convoluted countdown going on. Part of your brain unwittingly hopes that one year means “Whew! I made it through the firsts. Should be smooth sailing from now on…” while the part of your brain that contains intellect knows full well that an anniversary date is no longer the end of anything. It ended last year and once it’s ended there can be no other ending. There’s no reprise, no encore act. The bow has been taken and the theater long cleared out.

I’m different because I’ve made it this far. I have exercised my faith this year as if I were training for a double triathlon. God has come through every time. None of it has been easy – the exercising of my faith to what felt like the full limit part, or even the parts when He came to the rescue. It’s still all been really hard, but I am here. I am still living in our home and was not forced to move. I still have three amazing sons and three wonderful daughters-in-love plus a grandbaby. I was able to care for my granddaughter during my daughter-in-love’s entire nursing school program so that my son didn’t have to pay for daycare and so that my sweet grandbaby was exposed to as little illness as possible. My husband and I had agreed to do that for them and I was trying my best to hold true to that. The fact that I feel so much loss and brokenness but am still so blessed seems like a crazy paradox. An impossible coexistence.

I will be applying to jobs soon. The retirement my husband wanted and planned out for me was revoked once he was no longer here. I’m so thankful that the grace of God has provided ways to allow me time to grieve and to be with my granddaughter; He has provided hand over foot, over and over again, each time I even considered that the time may be coming when we’d be forced to look into daycare for the baby. Then suddenly a solution that would appear, in the natural, to be completely out of the blue, totally unexpected…they were solutions that were promised to me last year. He said “don’t worry; it’s already taken care of” and it was, right on time, every time.

I really didn’t want to go back to work but I am thankful that I was afforded this time to walk the brittle beginning of this journey with my granddaughter to light up the darkest days and without added stressors to keep me from processing all that I have been able to thus far. Now I will work on walking back into the work world and figuring out how that is going to look.

Money has been a sticking worry point for me throughout the last year. I’ve often felt guilty for worrying about it because figuring out how to deal with the money part isn’t nearly as difficult as figuring out to deal with the loss of my husband, my soulmate. Also because God tells us not to worry about what we will eat or what we will wear because the birds of the air do not sow or harvest but God provides food for them. And the lilies of the field are dressed in the most beautiful finery but need not worry about clothing. How much more does the Father love us? (Matthew 6:26-30) Every time I tried to stop worrying about money, another problem would pop up, making everything feel like a monetary house of cards all this time. And every time, He provided a way like He said He would.

I figured out this week one of the main and primary reasons that I’ve been so worried about the financial part. First off, my husband and I were both nurses but he was in a position to make a lot more money than me. As is typical, our bills grew to what we were able to afford and we bought a new home just four years ago, right before the onset of COVID-19. We bought a home together. For anyone who doesn’t know already, this was not either of our first marriage. He had a home and I had a home when we met. He eventually moved to the home I already lived in. Then his career path changed course and we were able to begin looking at houses together. We found one we loved for various reasons and we purchased it together. Then we made even more memories here.

I think it was in the first few days thay I said “I can’t lose our house; God, please don’t let me lose our house.“ This home represented so many of the dreams we had together. Things we wanted to do here for future grandchildren. Upgrades and even addition we dreamed of doing one day. Plans of what life would look like after all of the kids had moved out. I was terrified of an empty nest but he had a way of making it seem exciting and fun to be “on our own,” able to leave town at the drop of a hat and explore places we wanted to go. So one thing that has been at the tip top of my mind this whole time was “how am I going to afford to keep this house and all of the bills that go with it?” I was talking about how going back to work was the only choice but that I should be able to work it out to have the house paid off before retirement (hopefully and prayerfully.) Someone said “well, you could look into selling the house and moving into something smaller since you don’t need so much space.” That person meant no harm at all and was just trying to give a helpful potential solution, but my heart felt like it fell past my stomach and to my knees. Literally like the first downhill of a roller coaster. That same fear of not having this place where we planned our forever jumped right back into my throat while my heart tried to find its way back to my chest. It was all I could do to hold the grief break inside of me til later. It was only then that I fully realized that was the source of almost all of my money fears. Yes, I could survive if I had to sell our home. Yes, I could probably afford a tiny home more easily. Yes, I know many people end up not having a choice but, if there is anything I can do about it, I will have a choice about whether to keep or sell my house. And I will stay right here.

Now that I know part of my plan to do that means I have no choice but to return to work and that I know I will have gotten through my granddaughter’s first year and a half with no daycare, at least, I am able to build the resolve to step into it. I’m in the process now of figuring out how to plan for retirement without him here, too, but God still says it’s all going to be okay…the money part anyway.

So, things are still changing every day. Nursing school ends next month and then I go back to being one, too. It wasn’t the plan but things keep changing. But I was wrong about one thing. The only thing constant in life is not just change. It’s also God. He is never-changing.

Another Monthversary

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Today is the 10th. It’s been eleven months. For some reason this landmark in my journey is trying to turn my balance beam into a tightrope. Eleven months means that, right around the corner, I’ll soon be looking at having spent an entire year without him in my life. I don’t know how this can be. And how can it still feel so surreal when I have battled, struggled, and wrestled with grief like a black belt Brazilian Jiu Jitsu champ.

Still, my perspective is changing. I’m still sad and still miss him terribly; I think I’ll always, always be sad on some level and I’ll definitely always miss him, every day forever on Earth. Along with those emotions, though, I’m starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, the horizon is changing a little bit. It will never change back to how it was, but there may be some light up ahead. I find myself wanting to celebrate his life and what we had together more often than devastatedly grieving his death. Yes, there are moments the grief overtakes me and the nightmares encroach on my wellbeing, but it’s less often than before.

It’s springtime outside, mine and Scott’s favorite season. The smell of fresh-cut grass, flowers beginning to bloom, sunshine earlier and later in the day, and time for planting new things. I think that being outside planting, watering, pruning, deadheading, and fertilizing has not only kept me busy but feeling closer to the one who would have been here doing it with me. When I think of things he used to say or do now, I find myself smiling a little more often rather than desperately feeling the loss of never having those moments again. Not always, but at least sometimes now. He brought true joy and love to my life and I’m thankful that I’ll never be the same because he changed me in all the best ways.

Springtime after winter is like a rainbow after the rain. It is ripe with promise of change for the better. It brings a feeling of starting again…or at least of continuing on. Springtime, for me, is hope. God created many reminders that we can keep starting over. A sunrise always eventually comes after a sunset. Rainbows after rain. Jesus on the cross. My husband’s death was a semicolon for me. I wanted to end the sentence but it wasn’t finished yet; there is more to be said and done. I take one day at a time while I wait, sometimes impatiently, for God to unfold my assignment, a way to be used by him for good.

For now, baby, I’ll hold you in my heart until I hold you in Heaven. I miss you so much. (And you would have loved watching this little rugrat we have running around now. I often think of how much you’d laugh at her and get on to me for getting onto her about something.)

The Span of Ups and Downs

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Grief makes you feel bipolar. It feels like I think having a legitimate care of bipolar or multiple personality disorder would feel.

Yesterday, despite the fact that it was the eleventh monthversary of his death, I felt somewhat hopeful and just thankful for what we did have when he was here: a kind of love that many people never experience in a lifetime and that it was so very easy to keep the covenant of “til death do us part.” The sun was shining outside. The weather was gorgeous and the temps in the 70’s. Nostalgia wasn’t making me sad yesterday.

This morning I was on my way to pick up my granddaughter and had my music on shuffle. An old song by Styx came on the radio: “Don’t Let It End.”

“What can I do
Pictures of you still make me cry;
Trying to live without your love,
It’s so hard to do.
Some nights I’ll wake up,
I’ll look at your pillow
Hoping that I’ll see you there.
But I get up each day, not much to say
I’ve nowhere to go.
Loneliness fills me up inside
‘Cause I’m missing you…. Don’t let it end;
I’m begging you, don’t let it end this way.”

Yes, I know this song is an obscure piece of music history. The lyrics are, in actuality, about two people who broke up and he’s begging her to try again, to get back together. This morning, though, this part tried to pull me back toward the abyss that is grief. It doesn’t help that today is rainy with thunder and lightning. A day with very little light.

This is a perfect example of what grief does to people. One minute you’re fine. You think you’re figuring it out. Thinking you are figuring out how to keep living makes you feel a little bit manic, like you finally cracked the code to a lock you’ve been trying to remember the combination for forever. You get a dopamine hit from what feels like an almost impossible success.

Drastically and suddenly, with no warning, reasonable cause, or explanation, something causes your foot to slip from the tightrope and before you know it you’re hanging from a thin line by your fingertips while the wind is blowing, rain makes the rope slick, and you look down to see a bottomless pit. Except there is probably a bottom down there somewhere and it wouldn’t be pretty to hit it…again. The “bipolar” feeling hits again. “I was just okay; what happened???”

The thing is, I have choices when this occurs. Choice #1: continue listening, dig deep to really feel the words, and end up so deep in the hole that it’s hard to find a foothold to climb back out. Choice #2: change the station.

Here are a few verses to consider:

“The eye is the light of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. . . .” (Matt.6:22-23)

This passage reminds me to pay attention to what I put into my mind through my vision. Be careful what I watch on TV or read in books, for example. If my vision starts to stray to something unsavory (from a spiritual perspective,) I should change my view by altering my perspective or averting my eyes elsewhere.

“You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.” (Isaiah 26:3)

This verse reminds me that I will find peace if I change my thought process and aim toward spiritual things (whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Phil. 4:8)

More than anything you guard, protect your mind, for life flows from it. (Prov.4:23)

I have to guard what is allowed to infiltrate my thoughts; my life is influenced by what I allow.

“My son, pay attention to what I say; listen carefully to my words. Don’t lose sight of them; let them penetrate deep into your heart. For they bring life to those who find them and healing to their whole body.” (Prov 4:20-21)

Finally, my ears are a direct line to my heart. Music has always told me this because it has the power to elicit deep emotional responses. The Bible says that the Word of God in one’s ears brings life to those who find them and will heal their whole body.

This morning, I changed the station – literally and figuratively. I chose to pick a different playlist, and the song that played first on that station was “Healed” by Nichole Nordeman. This song sounds pretty somber, too, but the words are life-giving because they remind us of who we are, even in adversity; we exist but are incomplete until He reaches our hearts.

“We stutter and we stammer til You say us,
A symphony of chaos til You play us.
Phrases on the pages of unknown
Til You read us into poetry and prose.

We are kept and we are captive til You free us,
Vaguely unimagined til You dream us,
Aimlessly unguided til You lead us home.

By Your voice, we speak.
By Your strength, no longer weak.
We are no longer weak.

By Your wounds we are healed…

Passed over and passed by until You claim us.
Orphaned and abandoned til You name us.
Hidden undisclosed til You expose our hearts.

By Your death we live.
It is by Your gift that we might give.”

Today, my path was redirected because I changed my destination. Understand, though, that this isn’t something that is easy to do at all in early grief. There was definitely a time when I felt altogether incapable of redirecting my thoughts to anything but loss. And that is okay because it was part of processing the reality of the loss I have experienced. Even now, there are days I will still dig deep into the sadness and sit in it for awhile because something inside me needs to acknowledge my husband’s absence and the effect it has had, is having, and will always have on my life. Then, once I have had an opportunity to acknowledge those feelings, I’ve learned that if I change tracks to being thankful for the time we did have to spend together and for the beauty of our relationship while he was here, I am slowly and gently filled with peace. It all comes down to me being the boss of my thoughts and remembering that this life on Earth is merely one star in a sky of endless ones; it is the puréed spinach at the beginning of a long life of steak and baked potatoes, fresh bakery pastries, and millions of other delectably delicious delicacies. It gets infinitely better after this part that we’re slogging our way through.

If you’re grieving, know that it is okay if you’re not at this place yet, where you can take control of where your thoughts take you. I really think we need to go through the place where grief completely takes over. It sucks, but I think it’s necessary as our brains try to wrap around what happened and learn to grow our lives around it. If we shove those thought and feelings away in the beginning, if we just decide not to deal with them, they do not go away. We’re only hiding them so that they can explode later. It is not possible to ever eliminate them but allowing yourself to feel them takes away some of their power later on. If you’re not there yet, accept this hope that it does become easier to manage eventually. For me, right now it’s intermittently; sometimes it still rears its ugly head and tries to take me out but I seem to be able to find my way out of the pit a little more quickly after all the practice I’ve had climbing up.

The way God works, once you have experience hiking your way through dense and unexplored terrain, you’ll make a great trail guide for others who are trying to follow the same path behind you. You’re struggling now but one day you may be someone’s lighthouse on stormy seas. It’s a job you never wanted but someone will be grateful for you. ♥️

What’s That in the Mirror?

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I realized today that I cannot remember the last time I looked at myself in the mirror. I’m thinking that when I brush my teeth I guess I must look at my teeth. When I brush my hair I must look at my hair. But I haven’t “look-looked” at myself. I have worn makeup maybe three times since Scott’s been gone. I mean, who cares, right? What’s the point? I didn’t need to wear makeup around Scott. Even when I looked hideous he would say I was beautiful. (That reminds me of a photo of a kid’s school paper where the question asked “what is love?” And the little boy answered that it’s when you tell your wife she is pretty even if she looks like a dump truck. Sorry…A.D.D. moment.) Anyway, I definitely cared a lot more about my appearance when he was here.

When I acknowledged this thought, I instantly thought of James 1:23-24.
“Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.”

I think I’m having an issue with that, too. I read the Word almost every morning, rarely missing. It often tells me not to worry. To be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. (Phil 4:6-7) It tells me the joy of the Lord is my strength. (Nehemiah 8:10) It tells me to cast all anxiety on Him because He cares for me. (1 Peter 5:7)

I read these things and then often don’t get very far into my day before I seem to “forget” these things. Or at least forget to focus on them in the chaos that has been my life over the last year. I think a lot of this is because of difficulty understanding why or at least accepting that this is how my life is now…as a widow. But that thought process made me think of another verse about a mirror in the Bible. 1 Corinthians 13:13 in the KJV says “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” It’s a little easier to understand in the Amplified Version: “For now [in this time of imperfection] we see in a mirror dimly [a blurred reflection, a riddle, an enigma], but then [when the time of perfection comes we will see reality] face to face. Now I know in part [just in fragments], but then I will know fully, just as I have been fully known [by God].”

I guess my mirror needs some work…or, well, my eyes do. Or my brain. But if I’m going to do my very best at walking what I talk, I’m going to need to focus my concentration on the Truth more consistently and less on the things I am worried about. Finances have been a big one and I have become far too focused on how to make ends meet rather than focusing on God’s assignment and calling on my life. Where God guides, He provides. And God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called. They may be somewhat cliché but both of these statements are 100% true. That should be at the center of my attention. If I am where God wants me, doing what He has called me to do, other things will work themselves out. I am admitting, much to my own chagrin, that my life has been fear-based more than I’d like to admit over the last year. That’s not who I want to be. I want my eyes to be fixed on a resurrected Jesus.

I’m praying that, as I change my focus (again, because I know you’ve heard me say it before…that’s what I mean about walking away from the mirror; grief has a way of clouding that image.) God will have an opportunity to speak to me about where I need to be and what I should be doing next. I’m also praying He uses neon signs since interpreting subtlety is not my forté.

And I’m expecting a BIG answer. ♥️

Chasing Peace

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This is from Joyce Meyer but I think it’s my primary problem right now:

You can’t just sit back and wish for peace, wish the devil would leave you alone, or wish that people would do what you want. The Bible tells us to actively pursue peace. You have to make up your mind to crave peace.

It actually feels as if a the opposite of peace is actively chasing 𝘮𝘦, every single day lately. And I know the author of peace but I know who dishes out the other, as well. And I absolutely do 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦. But the Bible says we have to actively pursue peace: ”Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it.“
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭34‬:‭14‬ ‭NLT‬‬.

The verse makes it sound as easy as a Nike commercial: Just Do It. But, holy cow, it is NOT easy to maintain sometimes. I’m reading my Bible. I’m doing four separate devotionals every day (because they’re all very helpful – while I’m reading them but then somehow I get off track walking away from them.) I’m praying. I’m seeking it. Still, it is elusive. It’s as if it found the ultimate hiding spot in a game of hide & seek while I’m getting hot and sweaty outside looking for it, ready to throw in the towel and just go get a glass of cold Kool Aid and plop down on the couch in front of the TV until it comes to say “why’d you quit lookin’?”

Trying to muffle the chaos inside my head does not work because that just wakes me at 2:00 a.m. when my mind figures it has nothing better to do. Raging at the tornado I’m constantly facing doesn’t help because, alas, I do not control the wind and waves. Crying over it doesn’t help because I just get a headache and stopped up nose…although sometimes it feels like it helps release the pressure in the moment. The only thing that does help is reading my Bible and I’m sure that’s what I’m being called to do even more than I have been but I’m kind of stubborn sometimes (no comments from the peanut gallery, please.) My childlike mind wants to say “I’ve already done my homework and I worked hard on it! Why are you assigning me more? I’m tired already!”

And so I pray to crave it as strongly as I crave peace since sometimes I can’t seem to remember that they’re the same thing. And I pray for my stubborn, childlike mind to maintain a stubborn, childlike faith but to do a better job growing out of the attitude I tend to get when I’m tired or hungry. The I Can’t attitude.

For now, I will try to sleep. When I wake up, I will try to start again, again.

Not Me

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I’m not who I once was.

I was a “social butterfly” at one time. But my wings have gotten wet. Wet butterfly wings don’t make for easy flight. When I’m around large groups of people and noise, I feel hot pins and needles all over my body. My skin feels too tight, like after you wear tight, not-stretchy jeans to Thanksgiving and then feel like you can’t breathe after you eat until you peel them off or at least undo the button and maybe even the zipper while you pull your shirt down to cover it up. Oh, and by the way, by ”large groups of people,” I now mean something like ten where that term wouldn’t have been used for less than fifty or a hundred people before. I’ve performed on stage for over a thousand before. This person who used to enjoy being surrounded by people is much more comfortable with one or two now.

No one really knows how to deal with this other me. They keep waiting for me to get straightened out and become myself again but I really think that person died when my husband did. I really think I’m not the same me and that the person they used to know isn’t coming back again. Yet, still, no one knows how to adjust; I’m supposed to.

I’m very anxious in social situations now. It becomes difficult to breathe. Often that is because I’m trying very hard not to cry. Nothing has to even “trigger” the tears reflex and that’s another whole part of this different person I’ve become. My husband used to wonder why I never cried. I told him I thought it was learned behavior from being a single mom. I’d compartmentalize things to avoid crying so that they’d never be worried or upset. I just wasn’t someone who cried. Now I cry uncontrollably and sometimes at the most inopportune times. Inopportune, for me, means in front of people, thus why I will struggle to breathe normally while desperately attempting to hold back tears. Who 𝘪𝘴 this person???

Well, now I guess it’s me. And it doesn’t feel like it’s a me who will just go back to being that other woman. The one I barely recognize anymore. The one who laughed to the point of tears of hilarity when my husband tried to raise one eyebrow without raising the other, making ridiculous faces in the process and laughing just as much with me. The one who played the game where you try to talk with a mouthguard in and then talked even a little sillier when it made people laugh to hear it. The one who was everyone’s “mom” at work and had extra chocolate, unopened chapsticks, safety pins, pens, tampons, and Vicks VapoRub in her locker at all times in case anyone ever needed anything at all. I don’t know where that woman went because I’d really just rather be at home, even alone, doing homemade projects I devise for myself to do by myself. I don’t even know if this new person is healthy but I don’t feel sick. I feel like I’m finding some kind of peace in an otherwise untenable situation in which I have no choice but to live.

People keep telling me it’s not healthy for me to be alone so much, to stay home so much. But if it’s not healthy then why do I feel better doing it and feel torn every single time someone asks me to do anything else? I love my children and my granddaughter; I feel joy when they come through the door and when I hug them. I love sitting and just reading books to my granddaughter or listening to her laugh at the dogs. I enjoy sitting with my sister and just doing random things like cooking something and talking. I feel good sitting and having coffee with my best friend, even when we talk through the hard stuff. I enjoy spending time with my mother-in-law, just sitting in the living room and talking about the people we miss. I just don’t love the chaos of noise, and groups, and tornados of activity anymore. Maybe that’s not so bad, right? Maybe the new me is just an introvert, and if I’d always been that way then people would think it was okay. I’m not sure why it’s not okay now.

The me you knew before is not me. Can that just be okay? When the doctors walked down that hallway and said “I’m so sorry…” my heart shattered into a million razor-sharp pieces and my world went black; when I picked up the pencils to try coloring it back in, it was impossible to make everything match the original because you can’t photocopy life. What is here now is different, but I’m still in here somewhere.

Look Now From The Place Where You Are

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New beginnings sound like something exciting, something adventurous. In order to experience a new beginning, however, an ending must be acknowledged and accepted. Truly believing there is no way to alter an ending, especially when that ending was not how you wanted things to end, is outrageously difficult. It is hard for those who have not experienced it to understand, but even when that ending is death of someone you love, it’s very difficult to accept the finality of it. The acceptance comes in fits and starts. There are fits of raging against the world that it shouldn’t be this way. There are desperate cries of sorrow and pleas for an altered ending. I am becoming convinced that the only way to defy the disbelief, to nudge into the acceptance, is to focus on what God has planned for your future, even when it wasn’t the future you planned. In fact, especially when it looks like this isn’t the future you wanted, it’s important to lean into God’s new plans and have faith in them, even when it feels like there is no hope.

Several times in the last three weeks, God has brought a specific passage from Genesis into my path. Imagine that: Genesis, defined by the dictionary as “the beginning or origin of anything,” is the place I’m found studying and pondering.

Abram, eventually to be renamed by God as Abraham, has been waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promise to him. When they arrived at what Abram must have assumed was the Promised Land, his nephew, Lot, took all of the best areas of land and left Abram with the rest. Abram must have thought something like, “Your promise was for leftovers?” but:

”The Lord said to Abram, after Lot had parted from him, “Look around from where you are, to the north and south, to the east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted. Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.”“
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭13‬:‭14‬-‭17‬ ‭NIV‬‬

In a different translation God said ‘Lift your eyes now and look from the place where you are.’ He was saying don’t look behind you because there is nothing left there for you. Don’t look ahead into what you think should happen or should have happened. Look from the place where you are and, in that, keep having faith that I will do as I promised. My promises were never contingent on whether this would happen; I already saw this coming and I have prepared.

One of the most difficult things about grief is not constantly looking back at what was and also not looking forward at how wrecked what-should-have-been now is. It’s really hard to look from the place where you are. It feels as if disaster surrounds you from behind and ahead. Everything in the now is challenging and leads you to wish for what was and worry about what will be, but we are called by God to be thankful for what was (what we were blessed with in “the before” because it was beautiful and we loved it and them) and to trust His promises for the future.

One of the things He has steadily promised me was provision. I constantly feel internal pressure to do something to make sure His promise comes to fruition. I’m in a challenging place right now and I’ve been instructed to wait on the Lord and to trust and believe in His promise. I’ve been called to be still, which is not a strong attribute of mine. In my heart I truly do believe in Him and His voice. Still my nature consistently challenges me with “what are you doing about it?” Even when I know there is very little I can personally do to alter outcomes ahead of me.

I’m also challenged by purpose. I was a wife, a mom, and a “Lolly” (grandmother) and those were my identity. I’ve lost an identity before and it hurt tremendously, causing me to question who I was as a person if it was not this. I am a nurse by licensure but I’ve known for a long time that God was redirecting that calling on my life and had new directions for me to walk. I thought that direction was wrapped around being a good wife, mama, and Lolly, but a huge part of that identity is gone now that I am a widow.

I’m faced with the question of where that leaves me because it feels as if there is a gaping hole in part of who I am. Multiple people have said things to me about “finding a new husband one day.” This leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. While I do know that people mean well and, to them, they are offering me a new sense of hope that one day this hole will be filled, my husband cannot just be replaced. I don’t think that, when one loses a child, people would just say “well, just have another one; that’ll make you feel better.” And while I understand that I do not have any idea what God has in store for the rest of my life, that is absolutely something in which I have no interest at all right now. Honestly, if that ever was God’s intent and part of His plan for me, He would have to essentially, figuratively, drop someone in my lap for me to even consider it; even then it would be a challenge to navigate my way through the emotions that would surface as a response.

The overarching theme here is that I have to look now from the place where I am. I cannot look back toward what shouldn’t have happened (only at the joy and blessings that my husband brought to my life.) I cannot look forward as if it were a puzzle I am capable of figuring out; I say this meaning that, although we do make plans, I cannot determine the outcome of my life. I don’t know if I will die tomorrow or not for fifty years so trying to make a plan that encompasses what the rest of my life will look like is foolish. I have to look from where I am now. One step at a time, one day at a time. There are no shortcuts or crystal balls. The world works in such a way that new beginnings don’t just come the day that you are born. Learning to walk is a new beginning. Starting kindergarten is a new beginning. First love is a new beginning. Marriage is a new beginning. Having a baby is a new beginning. Divorce is a new beginning. Scott was a wonderful new beginning but now I am, once again, at a new beginning.

Becoming a mama was a new beginning for me, almost 26 years ago. When they moved out, it felt like an ending but it was really just another beginning, a different but still lovely path that has led to one beautiful granddaughter (so far.) I have to learn that my husband physically leaving this earth as another beginning. I didn’t like when my kids moved out on their own. I still miss them when I’m not with them. The same for my husband. I never wanted this particular new beginning. But I had to continue when the boys went out to spread their own wings. I had to learn to look from the place where I was then and begin to take steps toward being a mom from a distance and what that would look like.

Today, I’ve already begun my journey as a widow and I’m still figuring out what that looks like for me. I don’t know exactly where it’s going to take me. I do know that God already knows exactly what that looks like in my future and I wholeheartedly trust that he means it for good and not for failure. That’s where I’m standing right now, looking from the place where I am, knowing that I will be okay. I will have joy. I will have purpose. And I will always have a God who loves me and wants what is best for my life. I’m going to follow that lead.

Reinvention

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It might not seem like it, but what you’re looking at is me reinventing myself.

I started this project about a week ago. When my husband and I bought this piece, we wanted to paint it white but never got around to it. I’m getting around to it now, even though he’ll never be here to see that I finished it for us.

God speaks to me most often and most personally during creative processes. This is why writing is so cathartic for me, as well. I would be lying if I said that I know how every bit of information He spoke today relates to my grief process, but I’m quite sure they do. Some of them are already quite obvious; see if you can pick them out. Some I don’t really get yet but I expect Him to keep talking as I work my way toward figuring out how this is going to turn out. Below are some things that He told me today while I was working on this furniture rehab:

  1. There will always be naysayers telling you that you’re doing it wrong. There are two categories of these people: the ones who’ve never gone through doing this and the ones who are “experts” and like the way they did it better.
  2. There will always be imperfections. Some are there because of the way the wood has imperfections and some are because I missed spots or don’t like how I painted them. I’ll either be doing touch ups for the rest of my life or I’ll accept it as it is one day. I will probably vacillate between both of these choices.
  3. It needs more than one coat of paint. In every single area. Some areas will need more than that.
  4. When I feel like it’s completely done, I’ll have to gently take a razor blade to the fragile glass parts, but that’s isn’t going to stop me from getting a little paint on them now; I’m doing it anyway, even when I’m scared I might mess it up.
  5. I haven’t moved the breakables out of the curio part because I’m afraid they’ll get broken outside of it.  At some point I’ll have to remove them to paint the shelves on the inside.  That time is not now.
  6. I might sand down some of the parts I painted at some point for a different “feel” or “design.”  I can’t decide all of that right now or even until I think it’s done, so I’m not thinking about that right now.  I won’t know how I want it to look until it’s closer to being what I want it to be.  That’s okay.
  7. Sometimes I paint carefully. Sometimes I just smash and glob it on. That doesn’t really have anything to do with the part I’m painting. It has more to do with how I feel when I’m doing it. Sometimes I don’t feel like working on it at all, so I don’t. It will get finished whenever it gets finished.
  8. I don’t have any idea of what this is going to look like when it’s “done.” Sometimes, as I get further along in it, I feel like I can see a glimpse of what it might become.  Sometimes I think it’ll look okay; other times I think it may always be a disaster that I can’t fix.
  9. Some parts of the wood are darker, just by the nature of the grain. These parts are harder to cover with paint and will require more work.
  10. There are places that are hard to get to properly without taking the doors off. Despite knowing this, I still do not have the energy to take them off yet.
  11. Eventually I will need to buy new hardware for the knobs and handles, finishing touches. Since I know that, I’m not worried about getting paint on them now while I’m trying to redo the rest of it.
  12. Today it looks more complete than the last time I worked on it. That doesn’t mean that it’s finished. If I stop now because it looks better, I’ll never achieve what I wanted to before I ever started it.
  13. I didn’t create or build this piece of furniture. It’s something I acquired. That means there will always be parts of it that I wish had been built differently. The yellow wood and gold paint were parts of that. They’re a part I can change, so I am. The carved in parts are something I cannot alter so I have to just do the best I can to make it look like something I can find joy in.

All of this came just today, in a couple of hours of allowing my mind to be open to the work. For me, the work and the Word comes through creative projects but for others it comes differently. Whatever your process is, find time to let it work. And yet, if there are times you just don’t have the energy or mental bandwidth to deal with it, take a break – for however long you need. I think today’s work is going to be useful in the long run.

I’m also working on other things at home. I’ve worked on cleaning my bedroom, my bathroom, and my kitchen. I’m making my bed every day. These may seem like small things but, for me, they were big because my life felt like utter chaos. There aren’t before photos of those “projects” because I’d honestly be embarrassed for you to see the clutter that had developed. I’m having to get to a simplified place in my life so that I can even see where the pieces are supposed to go, like sorting puzzle pieces into edge pieces and various color piles before you start to assemble the entire picture. None of this is a “yay, me” statement. I’m telling you so that, whether it’s grief or depression or looking for purpose in your life, you’ll know that this is what worked for me; it’s a place to start if you don’t have a clue where to start. For me, the most important part is that you don’t have to do it all at once. Sometimes I do one small thing, like putting dishes in the dishwasher and waiting down the sink area and counters. Other times it’s cleaning off just my dresser, or emptying one clothes drawer, taking out what no longer fits, and reassembling it with what is left knowing I’ve decided that I only have to do one drawer today. Then some days I have the energy and the desire to do more than just that. I’m trying to make a point to do ONE thing each day, at least, even if it’s just one drawer. If I encounter a day when I can’t do even one, I’m giving myself for letting it go until the day when I can. This morning I also just cleaned my range hood, nothing else. For today, that may be all I am able to do. And that’s okay.

After first day of work
Today (still not even close to finished…but I’ll get there one day