Tag: change

Grief is Crazy…Not You.

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June 6th, 2023

And also, grief is so weird.

I just sat in my driveway and typed a message to a sweet friend who has been a wonderful encouragement to me over the last few weeks. I had just gotten home from the grocery store and remembered I had read her message in the store but I couldn’t reply then (I was trying to focus on not forgetting anything, spoiler alert – I still did).

Anyway, I remembered she had messaged me and didn’t want to forget so I grabbed my phone and typed the message to her before I got out. I felt good writing it because it was about how I felt sparks of joy today. I spent time with my mother-in-law and father-in-law. My mother-in-love and I laughed kind of hard at something we said about Scott. It felt good to be able to do that. And the blessing at the funeral home that I reported on earlier gave me joy, not just because of the money and not needing to use what money I had to pay that bill, but because of the provision. I felt thankful. Blessed.

Then I got out and started unloading groceries and suddenly thought that I should ask Scott to help me with the heavy stuff. (Funny thing is that he hasn’t been able to lift heavy stuff for awhile because of his neck injury but it was a habit spoken to my brain from prior to that.) And then I realized he would never come help me unload groceries ever again. Ever. My boys offer to help anytime they are here and I have unloaded groceries a million times myself when he wasn’t here so it’s not that I’m incapable. It’s that now HE is. And it’s forever. And so there I go, right down the spiral staircase again, bouncing on my head, my butt, my elbow, my knees…just a thrashing, crashing, breaking descent. Right to what feels like the bottom again.

I’ve pulled it together again now, and put away the groceries with my breath still hitching. Now I am back to say how crazy this “thing” called grief is. How it feels like being bipolar: feeling happy and then devastatingly sorrowful and broken just afterwards, swinging like a giant pendulum from one to the other with no warning. Funny thing about a pendulum: you always know that once it swings one way, it’s gonna go back the other.

I like having moments where I’m not feeling such despair constantly but I don’t know if I do like it when it becomes just the ascending part of a roller coaster. Would I rather be sad all of the time? Or is it better to still feel kind of happy sometimes, knowing I may crash and burn again at any minute? Always being on the alert for that? Right now, I just don’t know.

This is yet another part of my journey that I know 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 needs to hear, to know they’re NOT bipolar. To know it is “normal” for this season. And that it’s okay to 100% hate that “normal”… 😢

Just Keep Swimming…

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June 5th, 2023

I curled my hair today.

That may not sound like much. But it is…much.

The day of Scott’s memorial service, I knew I probably 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 try to look presentable, to look pretty even. The service was for him, to say goodbye for now to him, and I should want to look beautiful for anything that was for him.

And if he were here, I so would have wanted to. If we had been honoring him for anything else, I would have taken plenty of time to get ready, dress up, hair & makeup, the whole nine yards, just because I would have been proud to be on his arm, by his side.

But that day, I just couldn’t make myself care. I remember thinking that there should be thunder and lightning outside. It should have been gray and dreary and…just sad outside. Why should I put on makeup when I knew I would cry it off? Why cover the black circles under my eyes when they only gave witness to what I felt? Why do my hair when I hoped that water would fall from the sky in torrents and somehow wind and rain would whisk me away to Oz or some sort of alternate reality where he was still alive and well and laughing? It felt pointless. I felt lost.

I’ve been to the store with, still, no makeup and a horrible pile of hair up on my head. I’ve not cared who saw me. I’ve gone on, done things that needed to be done, completed tasks that were expected of me. But I’ve done them begrudgingly, despite prayer and petition to the contrary.

Today I got up and washed my sheets. I went for a two mile walk. I took a shower and washed my hair. And then, tonight, I curled it.

I don’t want to be sad forever. Oh, I’m still very sad. Scott is everywhere I look. There are memories of him everywhere. But I want to be able to think of him one day and not be fighting off tears. I want to be able to think through happy memories and laugh like I would have if I was reminding him of those memories. And I don’t want to feel this overwhelming, heavy, dark sadness every day, forever.

I know, for a fact, that Scott wouldn’t have wanted that for me. It would make him miserable to see me as I am now, broken. And I know that God doesn’t want that for me. He promised to give me a hope and a future. It’s not the future I had planned, but if God is in the midst of it then it will still have joy one day. My future still holds a promise and the fact that I will see Scott in Heaven one day is not the only thing I should be focusing on.

I have a mission here, a God-given purpose. Somehow, I am still here for a reason.

So I curled my hair today. I tried to be a little bit of the person I usually am today. I can’t promise I’ll keep doing it all the time but I’m going to try, very hard, to remember all of the reasons I have to be thankful, grateful, happy here. And I truly do have so many.

Where there is great love, there is great loss…great grief. But I also have people who will “get in the mud” with me, as one reminded me today. People who will wait for me to be ready to climb out and then push me, pull me, let me stand on their backs to fight my way out of the muck.

And that is something to be grateful for. That is a reason to be happy. ♥️

What Matters Most in Marriage

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June 5th, 2023

Mine and Scott’s marriage was short by comparison to some. Yet in the relatively short time we have known, dated, been engaged, and then married to each other, we had far more than some relationships or marriages have in many, many more years. More love, more understanding, more trust, more consideration for each other, more happiness.

Several people have messaged me or spoken to me and told me they’ve never felt love like that. Some have been married. Some never have. Some still are.

All I can tell you about how we had what we had entails very few sticking points. I’ll try.

1.) Things were not always perfect even though, overall, our relationship was perfect for us. We had disagreements. We got frustrated. We had tons of external pressures (blending families will do that). We had people fighting against our happiness (blending families sometimes does that, too, although I’m thankful we always had great support from the people who counted.) We suffered through emotional losses together. We had financial challenges. We had health challenges. Things weren’t “perfect,” but we were.

We made an agreement early on in our relationship that there was NO giving up. We agreed never to quit. When we married, we didn’t just say vows at a ceremony, we made a covenant with God and each other and we both took it very seriously. This takes NOT a 50/50 relationship. This takes the kind where each person gives 100% to each other. And while there were times when I was ornery and didn’t give 100, and times when he was stubborn and didn’t give 100, we always, always met in the middle. We chose each other, every day.

2.) We had complete trust. He never, ever let me doubt that he would never even entertain the idea of being with someone else, or talk inappropriately to anyone else. He also knew with absolute certainty that I would not. We both knew that if we gave our all to each other, we didn’t need anyone else. But it still had to be 100/100. I’ve told you that he bragged on the fact that I was the love of his life to everyone he met. He showed pictures of me, videos, talked about our adventures, was giddy when I was going to be coming to see him or when he was on his way home to me. That gave me a complete trust and comfort in his absolute loyalty. People who know me will tell you I loved being by his side and was smitten with him even still. He was my missing piece and I was his. But that’s because we both committed to never looking for other puzzles to fit into.

3.) Communication. Scott and I had different love languages. We showed and received love in different ways. That was a challenge to navigate in the beginning. What I did to show love didn’t necessarily come across as love to him. The same was true in reverse. This meant that I had to learn how to show love in a way he understood BUT also meant he had to learn to accept love sometimes in the way I would naturally give it. This was not a one-way street. Many discussions took place to find ways to meet in the middle on this. Many. Neither of us started off as great communicators but we grew into great ones together, with each other. We learned to love each other in the ways we each needed. This made us each feel like the very most important person in the other’s life. Adored, treasured, loved immensely.

4.) A cord of three strands. God was in the center of our relationship. We kept Him there. We prayed over our kids, over our finances, over our marriage, over each other’s difficulties, over sickness. And because God was in it, we were each convicted any time one of us was letting our human nature take over our emotions. If I was being ugly because I was tired or frustrated or sad over something, God let me know it straight up. And we apologized after things like that, with humility and remorse. Then we both forgave situations like that, without question, with understanding, and still, with great love. For love covers a multitude of sins.

I’m sure there are more “things” that go into it but mostly what I’m trying to say is that if two people make a decision to grow together, it is possible to have the “perfect relationship” together, while keeping these things in mind and committing to them. It cannot be one-sided; both must take part and live in agreement to the principles herein.

Don’t give up seeking a love like this. Seek for it in your own marriage if you are married. Work for it! If you’re not married, don’t settle for less just to be with 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 because you CAN have more and could be with THE ONE instead. ♥️ The difference isn’t magic; the difference is work, commitment, determination, and letting Jesus be in the middle of it all. ♥️

And all of this is why I miss him so, so very much. 💔

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖 and Worship in Loss

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June 4th, 2023

It’s Sunday. My plan was to go to church but I had nightmares all night; I remember two of the dreams, specifically, in which other people I care about died as I watched. I’m mentally and emotionally drained and fatigued as I wake. I’ve decided to watch the service of my church online this morning.

The fellowship of corporate worship (going to church) is important. We need to surround ourselves with other believers to be reminded that we are not alone in this life and in our beliefs. When our faith feels weary and dim, those who have surrounded us in worship will pray for us and lift us up in loss. They help carry us until we can resume.

I don’t only “go to church” on Sundays. That is the day of corporate worship in our faith but, because I am a part of the Body of Christ (a body of worshippers which includes even many who attend different churches but are part of the same Body), I am wrapped in their care even when I am unable to be at a church service. Sometimes my “church service”, my worship, my prayer, is held alone in my bedroom or on a walk outside. In grief, sometimes I relish being surrounded by others and sometimes I need to be alone. So it is with spending time with God.

Rest is important, too. Without rest, it is easier to fall deeper into the blackened pit of despair. When my body, even my mind, needs rest, I try to heed that call, as well. Today I will worship from home and spend some time alone.

Today, I will focus on gratitude.

My soul is weary. It’s a weariness I cannot even describe so, for today, I will not even try. Suffice it to say that I feel “like I have nothing left”. I don’t mean that in the physical sense. I have beautiful, wonderful children and a granddaughter who just may have hung the moon. I have other loving family members and I have compassionate friends. What I mean is that it feels as if I have nothing left of myself to give. Right now, they are all giving to me (which, as a mother, causes guilt but I digress.) I feel as though I am an empty vessel with nothing left to pour out.

As I was pondering this feeling of emptiness this morning, how I have nothing left to give even if I did get up and get ready for church, God poured out some wisdom over me. I never have anything fit for a King. I am just Jennifer. I am a sinner, over and over again. What do I have that would even be worth giving to the One who so lovingly created me, who knit me together in my mother’s womb?

And so, quite instantly, two “Who Am I?” songs began to play in my mind.

The first to play was this one:

“Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name, would care to feel my hurt?
Who am I, that the Bright and Morning Star
Would choose to light the way for my ever wandering heart?
Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done
Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are” (Who Am I? – Casting Crowns)

And the second song that quickly followed was this oldie-but-goodie:

“Over time You’ve healed so much in me,
And I am living proof.
That although my darkest hour had come,
Your light could still shine through.
Though at times it’s just enought to cast,
A shadow on the wall.
I am grateful that you’ve shined your light on me at all.

Who Am I,
That you would love me so gently?
Who Am I,
That you would recognize my name?
Who Am I,
That you would speak to me so softly?
Conversation with the Lord most high.
Who Am I?” (Who Am I? – Point of Grace)

And so, you see, these are both songs of gratitude because I have nothing else worthy of giving to the Lord Most High. Just gratitude. And that doesn’t have to mean I am thankful for these tragedies that have beset our lives at this time. I am not thankful today that Scott and Judah are gone from our presence while we desperately miss them. It means I am grateful for all that I have left. I am grateful that I am not Job. I am grateful because God loves me even in my darkest hour. Today, all that I have is a hallelujah.

“I’ve got one response.
I’ve got just one move.
With my arm stretched wide,
I will worship You.

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah.
Hallelujah.”

My mind, my soul needs rest. So I will still stay home today and God is okay with that. He just still wants to hear me worship from here. And so I will.

God, Make Me a Warrior

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June 2nd, 2023

I just received a letter from the Florida Board of Nursing about Scott.

It says they learned from the Office of Vital Statistics that Scott is deceased and so they have nullified his nursing license and moved his address of record from their database.

I want to scream “HOW DARE YOU??? He still lives here!!! And you can’t take his license!!! It is HIS; he worked hard for it AND he worked hard because of it and 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵!!!”

I’m angry. And I know that it doesn’t make ANY sense to be angry about that. No, he doesn’t actually live here anymore, even though every glance about this house 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 his memory at every moment. And no, he’ll never work as a nurse again but he lived and 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 taking care of other people when he was here so why would you want to strip his memory of that???

And so, again, I break. This fragile house of cards that I keep building over and over again just gets blown over in one…𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

These are the moments I have to remind myself that God is here, in even these details. See, this isn’t all flowers and rainbows and Heavenly clouds. I’m here almost every day telling you that you have to lean on God in all of these circumstances in my writing. And that’s still true. But I’m not going to tell you that it always “comes naturally” or is easy or is second nature at all times. I have to remind myself why I know where my help comes from. I have to purposely remember times where He has absolutely been there before and how I know it was Him. This whole thing is 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙛𝙖𝙧𝙚, all of it! Satan tries, at every turn, to scream in my ear “Where is God now? Why bother worshipping Him if you can’t even feel Him here when you need Him the most?”

Oh, but God didn’t build me into a warrior for nothing. I’ve 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 for this. I never, ever wanted to fight in this kind of battle but I’m here for it. And when I feel angry or devastated or alone, I can remind myself of who I am and whose I am. I AM THE DAUGHTER OF A KING and our victories (mine AND Scott’s) have already been won, no matter what stupid obstacles get thrown in my way.

And maybe you can tell, from this writing, what happens when I make a conscious decision whose side I’m taking in this. My power comes back. It courses through me now as strongly as the anger did before. I am still sad and angry that this happened; that’s not going to change. But I can manage the effects of it better when He covers me.

So if you are feeling helpless, alone, overwrought, like this never-ending cycle is too exhausting and too much to bear, turn. Turn around and agree with His promises that He would never leave you or forsake you. You will 𝘯𝘰𝘵 suddenly feel overjoyed. The tragedy will not reverse itself. But you will feel an ability to keep going and fight back against the oppression of despair. He’s got you. Fight to get back to Him when you get pulled away. Even if your fight comes in a whisper or a scream.

All of the Things…

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June 2nd, 2023

Finances are a big thing for anyone. They’re definitely a big thing in marriage.

When Scott and I were dating, engaged, and then married, we had both been married before. We both had children from previous marriages. We both had financial habits and had suffered financial damage from those marriages/divorces. We each had our own way of doing things as a result of those past marriages. We both were a little gun shy about letting someone else have any control over our financial situations.

I’ve said before that I was fiercely independent. I’d been raising three boys on my own for quite awhile and had found a sort of balance. I had often worked a lot of overtime to make ends meet but I had found a way to make that work. I didn’t want to rock the boat.

Scott had worked a lot of overtime just to stay afloat during his previous marriage due to overspending habits he had little control over. He was more recently divorced and he wanted to maintain his newfound control over money and he didn’t ever want to be in his previous financial condition again.

We overcame that together. Trust was a huge part of it and yet we still had hiccups trying to figure it out along the way. We both made mistakes and we solved them together. Ultimately, because of that trust, I gave over my control to him. Mind you, I still had the ability to use money anytime I wanted to but we talked about things, agreed on how to manage situations, and managed to figure it out together without causing friction.

I confess that Scott spoiled me, a lot. If he knew I wanted something, he just wanted me to have it eventually. His last large gift to me was at Christmas last year. We had a new grandbaby on the way, our first. He knew I love taking pictures and how much I love going through photos of the boys when they were little. He’d comment on what good photos they were. So when Lillian was nearing arrival, he bought me an expensive camera and many setup items to be able to take quality photos of her. (He was every bit as excited about her getting here as I was, so much so that he stood behind the curtain in Patrice’s delivery room and audio recorded Lillian’s first cry and the ensuing elation.)

So allowing him to manage most of our bill payments, frivolous spending money, and big purchases (still with my input on bigger purchases) became easier and I was comfortable letting him “take over.”

But here we are today…

Today he is no longer here to manage things. It’s not that I can’t start doing it again. I just don’t want to. I want him to be here; having to manage the bills and money again is just another reminder that he is not. There is a kind of defiance in me that wants to say “This isn’t what I wanted so I’m just not going to do the things I don’t want to do.” Not a very effective strategy for the future.

There are also issues related to income, obviously. When I say Scott retired me two years ago, I mean that I fought him on it before we got there but relented after awhile, so that’s why I say “he retired me.” He knew the mental trauma of being an empath and a nurse had taken its toll on me in my nearly thirty year career and he hated what it was doing to me. I was miserable. I still had, however, the idea that I needed to provide, too, because I had been a sole provider for so long prior to meeting him. Even though Scott went into the military straight out of high school and went to war soon thereafter, he would say “I haven’t even been a nurse for twenty years and you have been for almost thirty. It just makes sense for you to retire awhile before I do. Plus you can visit me a lot more on assignment and I miss you!” Even though he had worked just as many years as I. A compelling argument, though; I’d get to spend more time with my person. Thus I “gave in” and retired from my nursing career. And I loved it.

Yes, I struggled with “purpose” but then Lillian was on her way and I was going to be a stay-at-home Lolly (my “grandma name.”) while my son worked and finished college and my daughter-in-love started nursing school. So getting used to it wasn’t as hard as I had imagined. My life had somehow become perfect. The best husband ever, best kids ever, best new daughters ever, and the perfect new granddaughter.

It’s a tragic and devastating fall from perfect to now. I still have so many of the perfect pieces but the one that is missing means you can’t ever have the satisfaction of completing the entire puzzle.

Now, suddenly, the debt-to-income ratio feels suffocating and that makes me want to deal with it even less, despite the fact that, in the middle of grief, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰.

When your mind is at its most defenseless and distracted place, it is necessary to find a way to complete tasks that not only break your heart all over again (telling what feels like a gazillion people that my husband has passed away and hearing just as many “I’m sorry for your loss” comments) and that are important but feel impossible.

Asking for forebearances while you figure things out. Seeking ways to be creative with expenses. Cancelling unnecessary expenditures like TV streaming services, lawn maintenance service, the highest speed internet plan. Googling what probate even 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 when you really just knew that it was something that happens when someone dies before. Talking to attorneys. It all just adds up to a LOT to think about when you can’t concentrate enough to string sentences together in conversation at times.

This is not a plea for any kind of sympathy. Remember, this is part of the grief journey I’m sharing and it won’t hurt my feelings if you skip this “chapter” of it. It’s a part of my new reality. It’s just another one of the things that I hate about this “new normal” everyone keeps talking about.

“You’ve just got to find your new normal.”
“What if I liked my old normal? Can I return this one without the receipt? Do you allow exchanges?” But this wasn’t buyers remorse. I never agreed to this…it wasn’t my idea…let me speak to the manager…

So now, with a brain full of mush, I’m trying to think straight enough to do all of the things.

And I’m still going to remember that God is in the smallest details. He has a way of giving me guidance on how to proceed even when I least want to proceed and don’t even know how.

I’ve always said that I’m not good at subtlety and God is a master of it sometimes. I’m the girl who wants the neon signs (like the day I met Scott for the first time.) But I’ve also always said that I k͛n͛o͛w͛ God is speaking to me when the voice in my head says something that I would never suggest myself. Today He is saying “You can do this.” And that’s not something I would say right now at all.

Shalom. God’s Peace.

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June 1st, 2023

I constantly wonder how I’m managing this. Don’t get me wrong; I cry, get overwhelmed, lose it sometimes, and feel lonely in a crowded place. I miss him terribly. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will see him again. This is just one way-too-long travel assignment with no cell phone reception. But I’m going to miss him as long as I’m here. And loving him was 100% worth the pain of today and the rest of them.

But I do have peace. Not peace as the world gives, but Shalom, the peace of God, which transcends all human understanding, guards my heart and my mind in Jesus. Somehow, in a way that I can’t really even comprehend, I have peace even in my sadness. Did you know you can be very, very sad and still have peace?

I get very angry sometimes about some circumstances, but I still feel at peace over the anticipated outcome of that. I am grief-ridden, but I still have peace over the fact that God is carrying me in this storm and won’t ever leave me or forsake me. I worry through finances and what is going to happen in that regard, but I still actually have peace over it because, as I wait for answers and processes and paperwork, I know that God is in the waiting and that He has promised He will work all things together for my good because I love Him. That doesn’t mean it will be the “perfect” scenario (it can’t be because Scott can’t come back) but it will be one in which He’ll keep walking with me, keep giving me peace, keep making it work out in a way I can handle (with Him) until the day He calls me home to be with them, too.

Someone curious and well-meaning asked me, “do you think it’s just that your brain thinks he’s on a contract somewhere and that you’ll suddenly realize it’s real and really grieve then?” I thought about that for awhile because I sure hoped it wouldn’t get worse than this.

I’m really grieving now. I truly am. And it doesn’t matter to me what that looks like to other people. Grieving looks different from minute to minute. I may fall apart in front of you and start sobbing, having to walk away. I may have a full conversation with you and then have someone remind me later that you came to see me. (Yes, that has happened on more than one occasion.) I may look like poop in Walmart or I may have tried to put on makeup and brush my hair. Grief never looks the same even in one person, much less in different people. We all do it differently.

And I know that my brain doesn’t think he’s just off on contract again because literally almost 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 reminds me of him. His toothbrush is still by the sink. His slippers are still in my living room, where he left them. His cologne is on a pillow in the bedroom. Evidence of his various hobbies are all throughout the house. His truck is parked in my driveway. It’s on and on and on. And when I’m not home, every place I go has a memory of him there. My sister mentioned queso to my nephew yesterday; the last time I had queso was when Scott and I went to have Mexican food in Tallahassee about a week before he died. I went for a walk with my daughter-in-love and granddaughter today. I realized a few minutes in that I was constantly responding in conversation with “Scott would have said this…Scott used to…Scott would love that!” 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. And every reminder is one that he is not just away from home, he is gone from this Earth.

So why do I have peace that lies under this cloud of grief. Peace is synonymous with tranquility or stillness in the dictionary. It doesn’t mean I’m “happy”. It doesn’t mean I’m without concerns, emotions, or grief. But it means there is a kind of tranquility, a calmness in my spirit that is only there because of the presence of Jehovah Shalom. “I am with you always; even to the end of the age.” Matt 28:20 Shalom.

I Worship…so I will go take a shower.

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May 31st, 2023

I need to take a shower. I need to wash my hair. I need to shave my legs, it is summer now and my leggings are getting too hot. It became summer this past weekend. The first full season without you and I hate it. I hate it…I hate it…I hate it…

I need to, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to get up, get out of bed. I don’t want to face another day when you’re not here. I don’t want to cook or clean the house or feed the dogs or…or breathe if it’s not the air you’re breathing, too. I don’t want to…I don’t want to…I don’t want to…

Somehow I’m doing it. Somehow I am still breathing when you’re not here. I don’t want to leave here. I just want you here 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 me. I want to feel like anything I do matters when you’re not here to cheer me on, encourage me, remind me of my worth. I want…I want…I want…

I picked out the footplate for your grave yesterday. The military is honoring you with one. It will have your name, your war, your medals of valor listed on it. It will have your birthdate and the day you left us. It will say you were a loving husband, son, father, and a doting PopPop. I still have to pick out our headstone one day. I don’t want to…I don’t want to…I don’t want to…

I worship. God hasn’t given me a spirit of fear but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. My only comfort comes from Him. He is in the music. He is in the lyrics. He is in the pain. He is in the heartache. He eases them a little more, I’m sure a little more each day but it’s like watching the kids grow: you can’t see the changes day-by-day…only in retrospect. But I worship…I worship…I worship…

I worship. And so now I will go shower…

Dreamweaver…

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May 31st, 2023

Dreams…

I keep wishing, praying, hoping I will see you in dreams. Hear you say you love me again. Hear you say “it’s okay, we’ve still got this.”

I want to see your face again when it’s not in a still picture. Hear you laugh. Watch you take care of things…all the things: the plants, the dogs, the boys, the yard, the pool…all of the things you did because you just wanted us to be taken care of.

I remember being in the kitchen, last year, I think, looking out toward the pool from our picture window. I said “Look at how much pollen is on the window. It’s like a coating and it’s only March.” I kept doing whatever I was doing and then went in the living room, thinking you’d gone back in there. You weren’t so I thought you’d gone to the bedroom or bathroom. A few minutes later I got up to see where on earth you’d gone. Walking into the kitchen, I saw you outside, scrubbing down the window. I walked outside and said “Honey, I didn’t mean for you to do that. I was just commenting on the allergens!” You said “I know, but I wanted you to be able to see out. I know you love looking out this window. Your kitchen is the main reason we wanted to buy this house.” I never even had to ask for things like that. And you just did them for me.

Our contractor messaged me after you were gone and told me that, when he was walking around our new house with you to talk about the things we wanted to do, you told him “It’s very important to me that Jennifer feel safe and be happy in this house; whatever it takes to do that, that’s what we need to do.” 😭 That’s always who you were for me. He said he was so impressed by you and that it made him really think about things, even after he left the house. Both of those things were who you are. Someone who is just always taking care of people, especially me, and someone who makes an impact on others. You’re still making impacts today, baby; I hope somehow you know that now.

I’m still taken care of. You made an impact on our boys, too. They’re still looking back, observing who you were, and I see them being the kind of man you were in so many ways. Even when I wish they didn’t have to, they’re still picking me up after I fall apart again. And I know that will also translate into how they treat the other women in their lives. They were watching and it shows.

And God is taking care of me, too. I don’t know how I am getting out of bed every day, doing the things. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to. But even when I can’t feel Him, I know He is there, gently nudging me to move. He reminds me that I still have a purpose (even if I’m not fully aware of what that is yet.) I’m trusting that He will show me when He knows my body, my mind is ready.

I’ve tried bargaining with Him. Telling Him that if you would just come to me in dreams, I could learn what I’m supposed to be doing. That I would do a better job of going on without you here if He could just let me have “visits” with you. Even inmates get visits…why not me? But I also know that’s not how this works. This temporary separation for us is on His timeline. I told you that I was always told never to pray for patience but to pray for grace, because if you pray for patience, He’ll give you a reason to need it so you can learn it. (You use to joke that if you pray for patience, you may get more admissions…😂)

So I pray for grace. Grace in all circumstances. There’s a reason my middle name isn’t grace…I’m not very graceful. So I pray all the more.

My prayer life has been difficult lately. I have so many things I want to beg, plead, ask, and beg again. But the Bible says to praise Him in all circumstances and worship music comes with pre-written lyrics that I can feel when I listen, when I sing. So I’ve been trying to start there, even if I’m crying in the shower when I do. Salt water is good for the skin in moderate amounts, right? I’ve been thinking of buying a book with prayers in it for when you can’t pray, for prayers in times of grief and heartache and pain and loss. All of the things. Maybe that will help. It won’t be like some liturgy. I think that, if the right words are there, I’ll be able to feel them enough, like the music, to reach out to Him with my whole soul because my soul is wrapped around you right now.

I’m not praying to see you sooner (other than in dreams). Our kids and sweet grandbabies still need me here. I’m still just praying for grace, even when “God, give me grace in all circumstances. Help me to praise you in ALL of these circumstances” are the only words that make it out.

So, you see, it’s back to the dreams. Will you just come meet me there? Could you let me wake up, even one morning, with the feeling that your arms have been wrapped around me in the night? I feel like that would make all of the tomorrows more bearable. Even one last time until I see you again.

I love you more. I miss you most. ♥️

”Fly me high through starry skies

Maybe to an astral plane,

Cross the highways of fantasy,

Help me forget today’s pain.

Oh, Dreamweaver,

I believe you can get me through the night.

Ohh, Dreamweaver,

I believe we can reach the morning light.”

Dreamweaver by Gary Wright

The War Doesn’t End When Deployment Ends…

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May 30th, 2023

Yesterday was Memorial Day. 🇺🇸

My husband was a war veteran of the United States Air Force. He served two deployments during Desert Storm, also known as the Gulf War.

But the deployment doesn’t end…when the deployment ends.

We use to talk about how many people don’t understand the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day. That Memorial Day is for the fallen, the ones who sacrificed their lives for our freedom, the ones who died while they were serving. Veteran’s Day is for the Veterans who served and whom we honor, as they live, for their service.

But yesterday, all day, I contemplated something else.

There are men and women who did not die prior to their honorable discharge date. But some spent the rest of their lives living out the consequences of that service.

Statistics say that twenty-two veterans die each day in the U.S. as a result of suicide. Thankfully, that was never my husband. But didn’t those vets pay the ultimate price for service, too? The loss of peace, the night terrors, the pain, the fear until they didn’t know how to manage it anymore?

Scott lived with PTSD for the rest of his life after the war. As long as I’ve known him, he has had terrible nightmares and I’ve had to gently wake him, many, many times, to lift him from the darkness of them.

He lived his entire life after that war with the consequences of his service.

So, while Memorial Day isn’t for veterans like Scott, I will remember him and honor his service and his life every year on that day, too. Because he was still fighting a war inside his own head for as long as he lived.