Tag: marriage

The Only Woman in the World

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May 24th, 2023

Husbands: True love is not about giving your wife the world. True love is about making your wife know that she is the one and only woman in your world. – Isaac Kubvoruno

Scott and I followed Isaac Kubvoruno on Facebook. He’s basically a Christian relationship guru and when I tell you that Scott took these posts to heart, I truly mean it. Honestly, from the day I met him, he already was this man, the one described in the quote. the one who knew exactly how to make me feel like I was the only one, before during and after, and that no one else had ever been created just for him. But he read these posts and wanted to be more like them. He wanted to be the perfect husband. I told him all the time that he was but he still wanted to be more. There are no perfect people (only one ever lived) but he was 100% perfect for me and no one else. And that is how I will always remember him simply because it was true. I just wish we had been able to have more time to enjoy it. ♥️💔

Distraction

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June 1st, 2023

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣…

I’ve forgotten to take my medicine for several days.

Scott would have gotten aggravated with me. He’d say “I don’t understand; it’s right beside your toothbrush. How do you forget all the time?” And I’d say “I was brushing my teeth and I was thinking about taking it after…but then I got distracted.” Story of my life…. I couldn’t forget for long. If he was home, he’d check my pill box with the days on it and remind me. When he was away from home, he’d call or text me from wherever he was most days.

He only got irritated by it because he wanted me healthy, he wanted me safe, he wanted me here. That’s what I wanted for him, too. And he was excellent at taking his meds on time, every single day. What an odd, diametrically opposed outcome we’ve had. Such a paradox.

His death was the very definition of a paradox to the way he lived. But that’s a story for another day.

Distracted, however, is a 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 state of mind these days. I can be trying to have a conversation with someone and then, flat out, in the middle of a sentence, it’s just gone. No clue what I was saying or going to say. This is even worse than usual for me, the queen of attention deficit disorder. It’s not a problem of inattention; it’s a constant pull by the weight of loss, the images I can’t remove from my head, the emptiness inside of me and next to me. Constant distraction.

But he was so good at purposely distracting me. From my failures and flaws, from my fears and insecurities, from doubting myself, from my past. Sometimes it was with silliness, making me laugh. Sometimes it was with exhortation, reminding me who I am, what my gifts are and from whence they came. Sometimes it was was with physical touch when words just didn’t suffice, a big, strong hug where I felt wrapped up in love, protection, safety. And sometimes it was just with “Remember? We’ve got this. Together.”

All of these, any of them, are types of distraction I desperately long for now. Minute to minute, I wish there was a distraction strong enough to hold my attention for more than mere seconds in between mental propulsive explosions of reality.

So, when I am alone and without external distractions to pull me from the strangling hands of grief, I know where my help comes from. I lift my eyes unto the hills. He’s God of the hills and valleys. I reach for worship songs. I reach into the parts of my mind that seem buried the deepest right now to find Bible verses that bring strength, courage. Many times, I only have snippets of them. Couldn’t tell you book, chapter, or verse. But the parts of worship songs or scripture that reside in those recesses are invaluable to me right now, every day.

If your life is going well right now, you have all you’ve dreamed of, don’t take that for granted and stop reading your Bible or going to church or listening to praise and worship music. Because your mind is so happy and carefree that you don’t think you need it right then, a pick-me-up.

A time may come when your brain is completely distracted, when you can’t read two consecutive sentences and understand their meaning to save your life, when there isn’t anyone else around to help distract you from your asphyxiating emotions. That is when you will need the Word that buried itself inside you. That’s when you need it to come, unbidden only because you’re too distracted to think of anything that will help. That’s when you’ll need it to pick you up and carry you to the next moment when your legs will hold you up again. The day of his funeral reminded me sharply of this.

Sitting in the foxhole, stillness in the air as you enjoy the quiet from the lack of ear-piercing gunfire, is the time to load your weapon, not when you’re under attack.

Losing You, Piece by Piece

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May 29th, 2023

I lost Scott’s wedding ring today.

Spoiler Alert: I found it later; don’t panic (like I did). And Godwink ahead if you choose to keep reading.

I have been wearing it on my thumb since the last day that I saw him. He gave it to me for safekeeping prior to surgery. I didn’t know I’d be keeping it safe for him forever.

It’s been a “worry stone” of sorts for me since I began wearing it. I use my other hand to twist it round and round nearly constantly. It’s a reminder of him. It’s something I have left of him, of us. He was so proud of it because I chose it for him and it has deer antler embedded into it. I chose it because it spoke to me, it said a little something about who he was. And he loved it because I chose it thoughtfully, specifically for him and likened to him and his tastes.

It’s really heavy. I wasn’t expecting that when I ordered it. Many times I have offered to buy him one of those silicone bands to wear while at work and he would always say, “No, I want to wear this one; you chose it with your heart and I want it with me.” He never took it off. But that day he had to.

When I realized it was missing from my thumb, I did panic. Owen said “Try not to panic, mama. It’s in this house; we will find it.” I knew I had been wearing it just beforehand, within the hour at least. I had cleaned out the fridge, putting some things in a large, black trash bag for garbage pickup tomorrow. I had loaded the dishwasher. I’d sat on the couch. I had fed the fish. And, as I cried, I searched each place, over and over again. I emptied the entire trash bag, piece by piece, onto my kitchen floor and searched and shook the entire thing, turning the bag inside out. My sweet Owen came and helped me turn over the couch and search between cushions. As I got discouraged, I said a few times “It’s okay. It’s lost, son. There’s nothing more we can do. Hopefully it will turn up soon.” But he kept searching and trying to help me retrace my steps, keeping me on task. I searched the trash bag two more times because, as heavy as the ring is, it should have made a loud noise if it hit the floor and rolled so falling in the trash bag made the most sense. All to no avail.

We finally stopped looking and I sat on the couch, staring into space and realizing that I had now lost another piece of him, even though it’s not actually him. A memento? A reminder? None of these seem right because it was chosen just for him. It belonged on him.

I agonized over whether to put it on his finger prior to the funeral. He never wanted to be without it. He wanted to wear it always. He would have wanted it on his finger. But ultimately I decided that my husband, above all else, wanted me to feel safe and happy. He was no longer in that body but I could keep this one little piece here with me and he would want me to if it brought me any measure of peace in his absence. And then I lost it. I lost his ring that he loved.

I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since May 9th. This morning I had been washing my hands and it nearly fell off. I thought, even my thumbs are getting skinnier…crazy. I nearly took it off then but I have become accustomed to having it on and I didn’t want to be separated from it. It’s strange how important tangible things are in the absence of love lost.

I rose from the couch, probably an hour later to go to the restroom. And, lo and behold, the ring was IN MY PANTS (not a pocket, INSIDE). Apparently, when I had gone to the restroom earlier and had used my thumbs to pull my leggings back up, the ring had gotten trapped by the waistband and just pulled right off, resting just under the waistband. When I completed the same action this time but to pull them down, my thumb slid right into the ring again. (Don’t ask me how I didn’t feel it there. I suppose my skin had warmed it and it was being held snugly by the elastic waistband.)

Such a long time of searching, just to find that it was with me all along but I couldn’t feel it because I was in a panic, fretful over my loss and despair.

Isn’t God like that, though? I can’t feel Him near me these days. I try to pray. I try to worship. I try to sing. I try to search for Him so that He will come near. I try the most likely places (like church) that He should be (although I know full-well that He is everywhere). I’m so distracted by my searching, in a manner of speaking, that I forget that, even though I can’t feel Him, He is still here, so close to me that His warmth feels like my own. So, maybe I am feeling Him but I’m just looking for a more tangible way to realize it. I feel like I need to SEE the evidence to know it for sure. But the real evidence is already there. The real evidence is that He has been there every other time, without fail.

Be A Wildflower

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May 28th, 2023

Two years ago, I got this tattoo when I was in Miami with Scott on one of many visits while he was on contract there. The simple things, like seeing this tattoo and knowing he was sitting right by me when I was inked, those things make me so sad now and then tears come out of nowhere. It makes me scared to go out in public because I don’t want to be a reason for people to stare, especially right now. And I don’t need pity. I just need him back.

Today I’m going to try to go back to church for the first time since…well, you know.

Scott had been looking forward to getting his surgery done so that he could go to church with us again. The last two and a half months, he had been in too much pain from his injury to get ready and then to sit in straight-backed chairs for a whole service.

I don’t know if I’ll make it through a whole service today. I’m going to try. I’ve looked up what series they’re doing now and it’s not on anything like marriage so I’m hoping to make it through.

Most days I’ve gotten out of bed. Most days I’ve gotten dressed. Today I brushed my hair and put on tinted moisturizer and just a little waterproof mascara because I know I have to learn to do the normal things again without him here. Most of the time, it feels pointless since he’s not here but I can’t let my feelings determine the worth of what’s left of my life. I’m still here so God says it’s worth it. He says there is purpose in it. And because he loves me, He says that one day there will be joy and not only darkness.

There have been times I have felt worthless, as a person, but God said different. Today, I’m giving God the opportunity to say different about what time is left in my life, even if it’s a whisper. Today, I am a wildflower warrior.

***EDIT TO UPDATE: Today we sang “There’s Another in the Fire” as part of the worship music. “There’s a grace when the heart is under fire,
Another way when the walls are closing in.
And when I look at the space between
Where I used to be and this reckoning,
I know I will never be alone.

There is another in the fire
Standing next to me
There was another in the waters
Holding back the seas
And should I ever need reminding
Of how I’ve been set free
There is a cross that bears the burden
Where another died for me”

I cried. I raised my hands to praise Him in this storm. “You are who You are, no matter where I am. And every tear I cry, you hold in your hands. You’ve never left my side, and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm.”

I cannot pray right now. No matter what I do, the words won’t come. But I will sing.

And I still want to just be a wildflower…actually, I guess I’ve been one for awhile.

And, just so you know a little bit about what’s “behind” the tattoo:

May 28th, 2021

I got a new tattoo.

It’s wildflowers.

Wildflowers aren’t planned; they aren’t even meant to be there.

But they still have a purpose, even if they are weeds. They are still beautiful despite what people may think because God created them just as they are.

They were already a part of His plan. And despite the struggle, they keep coming back. No matter what mows them down or plucks them up, they rise again, reaching for Heaven. Wildflowers are warriors.

Be a wildflower.

Nothing is without meaning and purpose.

May God, the source of all hope, fill you with all JOY and PEACE, by means of your FAITH in Him, so that your hope will continue to GROW by the POWER of the Holy Spirit.
~ 𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼 15:13

Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light

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May 26th, 2023

GRIEF TRIGGER WARNING (This means to swipe past this post now if my pain right now is too much for you, especially if music is the trigger for you that it is for me – there’s nothing wrong with protecting your own heart and you should. This one is tough for me so it may be tough for you, too, especially if you’re an empath. Read ahead at your own risk.)

When I wake from nightmares in the middle of the night, praying as I reach for the clock that it will be 5 a.m.or later, that’s when it’s worst, I think. He isn’t laying beside me and I know it before my eyes open because I just saw his face again, not in the way that I wanted to.

It’s worse tonight because I don’t even have the release of tears, of a “good cry.” Sometimes the numb and the gravest sorrow intermingle and then it still hurts deeply because the tears refuse to come and help me let it out a little. I can’t sob over his loss so the anger comes back at some point. I’m not there now, just yet, but I’ve already learned the patterns. I know it’s coming.

Anger protects me even though I hate how it feels. I’ll want to scream. Not a “woe is me” scream but the blood-curdling kind. The kind that says I’m out of control because everything around me is. He was taken from me before we had a chance to finish this dance. He was ripped away when we were still in the prime of our beauty. But I think we would have always been in “the prime.”

I’m not angry at Scott. I’m not angry with God. This world is filled with evil all the way back to the serpent who slithered into the garden. Satan is the god of this world and that’s why I can’t wait to leave here one day, to have all of the people I love in one place, together again, where there is no sadness, no mourning, no loss, no pain. I am not meant to go now, understand me. He left me here because there is still work to do, and if I listen then He’ll show me what it is.

But right now the anger won’t come yet, either, so this numb is only the kind that is silencing but still painful. And so I turn to the only place, the only One, who still guards my heart.

He can handle my sadness. He can deal with my heart wrenching pain. He can bring peace, even though it’s temporary when it comes, for now. I go to the foot of the cross. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, Lord. Lift me above the raging waters that threaten to drown me. Rescue me.

“Take me to the King. I don’t have much to bring. My heart is torn in pieces; it’s my offering. Take me to the throne. Leave me there alone, to gaze upon your glory and sing to you this song….take me to the King.”

This chorus has been in my head all week. I haven’t had the strength to listen to it until now. I’ve heard it many times before all of this happened but never felt it so much, never experienced the raw emotion behind the lyrics until now.

The Bible is the same way. I’ve read the Bible cover to cover before (not always in the order it’s written) and have read many passages enough that I can lipsync them when someone starts to speak a verse. But sometimes God gives me new perspective on what a passage is saying when I am going through different joys or trials in my life. The Bible isn’t static. Oh, His word is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, but it isn’t always spoken in the same tone. Different seasons of life will alter the punctuation, the way it is spoken to your heart. If you haven’t read it in awhile, take it out. See what He’s trying to tell you today and, although He won’t say something “different,” you’ll read it in a new light with the changes you’ve experienced in your life since the last time you read it. Ask Him to take you where you need to be and don’t stop after reading one sentence, but let the story of that passage be revealed to you. For me, sometimes I read at first and cannot figure out why this pertains to me, to my situation, but it always comes to me later when that happens.

I know that, one day, this song won’t bring me pain anymore; it will bring me peace. Peace because I will know that even in my darkest hour, He was finding a way to speak to me. Finding a way to reveal Himself. Finding a way to remind me that He is still here and that all I have to do, when I feel empty and have nothing left to give, is to seek Him. To go to the throne of His glory. On that day, when it no longer hurts, this song will represent yet another promise that He always will.

He is here, hallelujah.
He is here, amen.
He is hear, holy, holy.
I will bless His name again.
He is here; listen closely.
Hear Him calling out your name.
He is here; you can touch Him.
You will never be the same.

Normalize Telling People You Love Them

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May 24th, 2023

Normalize telling people what they mean to you.

By that, I don’t just mean your family, your best friends. I mean that you should make it a point to tell people that you think they are important and that they have made a difference in your life, or in this world.

As I read through many of the things people have written over the past couple of weeks about my sweet husband, I wish he could have known the impact he had made, was still making, in the lives of others. Scott always felt like he should do more, be more, help more. Many times he felt he just wasn’t “enough”. I’m betting a lot of you can relate. I can. We let the weight of the things we haven’t gotten right override the strength of the things we have done well.

I know that you have done so many things well. Scott loved well. He made people feel worthy, safe, heard, appreciated, and loved. He made people feel like family and he wanted to be that with everyone. You might be that person to others, too.

My nephew, Judah, needed to hear these things more, too. He was all noise, exuberance, light, color, joy, and fun. He needed to know that he was that, not just to his family, but to many around him.

So, I encourage you today to tell someone what they mean to you. Tell them of the impact they have had. Tell them that the world would lose a great source of light if they were not here. Tell someone that you have learned something from their life and that it has changed you. Tell someone why you think they are an amazing and inspirational human. Not just your family members and closest friends. Tell an aquaintance, tell a co-worker, tell a stranger.

Just tell them while they are still here. ♥️

Forever was Fleeting

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May 23, 2023

I never imagined that grief could feel like this.

I was sad when I lost my Granny. Very sad. I could tell myself that she lived a long life. She wasn’t sick anymore.

I was really sad when my stepdad died. So sad. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s for years and I could tell myself he was better off now, could picture how well he was in Heaven.

When my nephew died, I was heartbroken. I cannot explain the sad because he was healthy and way too young and full of life and beauty and color and noise. And the heartbreak of my sister and brother-in-law took my breath away. Scott was there to walk through it with me, to hold me when I sobbed. To take me to be with them. To join me in every small measure of help we could muster.

I still never imagined grief could feel like this. People keep saying “I can only imagine what this must be like for you.” I know you’re trying to imagine it but you can’t. As hard as you might try, you just can’t. A very precious few friends who have already walked in my shoes can feel it, I imagine all over again, by watching me go through it because they have lost soulmates. They have been where I am today.

I described it to someone as having been given a paralytic before surgery but someone forgets to give you the actual general anesthesia. Someone starts cutting, opens up your body and starts taking parts out, and you can’t even scream or move to tell them you’re feeling all of it. And since you can’t really imagine that in a way that you can feel it, I’m thankful most cannot feel this either.

My sister and I are close but we cannot really comfort each other now. We’ve texted but have only spoken on the phone a few times since it happened. The rawness of my pain and of hers intermingle and pour over us like white hot lava, but a mysterious kind that doesn’t consume anything in its path; it just solidifies and burns continuously, taking your breath once over and over. How did sixteen days steal so much from our family?

My mother-in-law is the strongest person I know right now. She has lost both of her children in less than a year and a half but still finds a way to comfort me and hold me up when my knees no longer want to. And we do not grieve as those who have no hope but, dear God, I don’t know how to wait on that day right now.

Today we do what they call “laying him to rest” but there is no rest for me and he has already been resting for almost two weeks. I doubt I have consumed what would normally be one day’s calories in two weeks and have slept three hours or less per night except one when I miraculously made it to almost five. Everyone keeps telling me to eat and sleep. But even when I eat it returns and sleeping brings no rest. I’m thankful Scott is not in any pain, that his heart doesn’t hurt like mine, but it doesn’t change the fact that my pain is so deep that I feel I cannot breathe. There are literally times when I feel like I have to think to take a breath, like my body doesn’t know how to do it on its own anymore without him.

All of our children and our granddaughter are what keeps me tethered here. Without our boys and our girls, I don’t think I’d bother getting out of our bed…it’s such a huge bed now. Scott’s body was always like a furnace; I used to tell him that he could keep me alive in a desert tundra just by staying/sleeping near me. I imagined yesterday that I would be comforted by being able to put my hands on his face one more time. It wasn’t comforting at all.

I don’t know how to walk through this day. Or all of the tomorrows. Why does this day feel like such a final goodbye when I already know he’s been gone for so long…how is it only two weeks? There will be people there who try to comfort me, people who want nothing more than to ease my suffering. I wish I could make them all feel better by acting like I do…but the life sentence of living without him beside me reaches so distantly into the future.

I will be okay one day; I know that I will although it doesn’t feel like it is possible right now. Like everything else in life, God will give beauty for ashes even in this, as unfathomable as that seems right now. He’ll find a way to use this thing He didn’t cause to bring cause for me to walk a dark path with someone else who hurts. And then He’ll give me the strength to do it.

But today feels like an ending, all over again.

I love you, Scott. I miss you insurmountably.
I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you. But I realize now that you spent the rest of your life with me and I know that you loved me with your whole heart until the moment you had to go.
Until we meet again, my heart. ♥️

The Last Time, Ever I Saw Your Face…

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May 22nd, 2023

Today is the day I will see his face for the last time here on this earth. There is an earnest fear in this. I want to remember him the way he is supposed to look, with this beautiful smile on his face and the look that always told me that no matter who had come before, there would be none, ever after, and that really, I was always the only one, the one he’d been searching for all that time. He always knew the same of me and we talked about how we had discovered that, at one time, we were in the same football stadium at the same time and wished we had crossed paths then.

I don’t want to remember him the way he will look today. But 𝘩𝘰𝘸 can I 𝘯𝘰𝘵 see him one more time, knowing this is the last time I can ever look at him? How can it be the last time? I cannot understand how this happened, how my healthy, perfect husband’s soul is no longer in the same world as mine.

Sure, there are wonderful photographs. We took a lot of pictures together but I wish there were more. And yet the photographs cannot wrap his arms around me, cannot kiss me goodnight, or hello, or just because.

Tomorrow is the day we will “bring closure” with a memorial service. We will have a slide show to represent his life but you cannot properly represent Scott in 100 pictures. You can’t even truly represent him in photographs because he was larger than life but in a quiet way.

Now, Scott could talk your ear off. I sometimes would walk out to the yard after he had been talking to the lawn guy or the cable repair man, or the person walking their dog and gently suggest he come back inside because they probably had other things they needed to do and I didn’t want anyone to get into trouble. But then many times they’d still stand and talk longer because Scott never met a stranger. They were already fast friends and enjoying their chat.

But he still had a quiet thoughtfulness. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes, never understanding how people could be ugly to one another because he was all kindness and soft-hearted. He was hurt so much more in this life than he would ever have given back because people would take advantage of his gentleness. Don’t ever forget that your candle will never glow brighter by the action of extinguishing the candle of someone else.

Scott isn’t here anymore. I keep trying to convince myself. At the same time I try to convince myself he is on a travel assignment and will FaceTime me soon. That doesn’t work for long. Yet even though he is not here, his light is here. His gentleness. His grace in all circumstances, even over and over again for those who did not deserve it. He lived like Jesus in that way, always believing that people could turn around and redeem themselves even though some constantly hurt him and never did change. It made me angry, not at him but for him.

Today will be the last time I see his face. I saw him after it was all over on the 10th and I know he doesn’t look the way he should because this didn’t happen the way it should have. Life turned on a dime and left me floundering in this abyss of grief and loss. But I will see him today for the last time until I see him again. And I know it will break open the hurt that keeps trying to hide underneath the beginnings of a scab, of scars that will keloid and never fade. I miss you, baby, so much. 💔

Dreamscapes & Dry Spells

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May 21st, 2023

I’m afraid of sleeping. Of what I’ll dream about, or that of what I might not dream about (haven’t dreamed his face or his voice yet and I ask him to come to me even in dreams every night). I’m also afraid that once I actually sleep more than a few hours a night, I’ll realize it’s an escape and it will be all I want to do.

I’m afraid of people seeing me in what I’m calling a “dry spell” and not understanding just how much I miss him and that I’m dying inside because I just don’t have tears at that point (until I do and they won’t stop) and because my brain is working hard to compartmentalize and shut the boxes so it doesn’t hurt so badly. Not because other people’s opinion of my grief matters but because it feels like it matters that they know how important he was. Scott was upset when I didn’t cry the day he asked me to marry him. I had been a single mom for years and learned to hold it all in tight to keep from scaring my boys. After trapping it for so long, it became difficult to express any of those kinds of feelings. Oh, but i was sooo happy on the day he asked me – and the rest of the day we had one of the best days ever. It’s actually hard to differentiate because I feel like we had soooo many best days ever. Now, when I am crying, it feels like I can’t hold it in to save my life. When I’m not crying I feel guilty for even being able to function because I still don’t know how I have survived this many days without him.

I’m afraid of so many other things. Things about how I 𝘢𝘮 going to live without him here. Scott would have told you I was fearless, that the only thing that scared me was losing one of our kids. And that was pretty much true because I never worried about losing him. He wore his seat belt. I used to tease him about driving like a grandma, but he was very safe. He was nervous about the surgery, as anyone would be when their spinal cord was involved, and I told him not to be afraid, that this would be like any other surgery he’d had and that he would come out feeling so much better (and he did…for awhile). And no other woman was ever going to take him away from me. I was never afraid of that because he couldn’t talk about anything but me when he was away from me and he only wanted to be in the same room I was when he was not working. Anyone we knew would tell you that. We were inseparable and I thought we always would be. We said “til death do us part” 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 when we got married. I thought we had until we were 80.

But there are three primary emotions with this grief: white hot anger, intense, devastating sorrow, and fear. Disbelief sneaks in there but then the anger takes over again and proves me wrong.

We didn’t take a wrong turn. We did everything we were supposed to do. We followed the rules for pre-op and post op. We did what insurance and doctors told us to do. And he was healthy, so healthy. This was not supposed to happen, under any circumstances, and yet it did, despite everything.

So I’m afraid a lot. I’m afraid of how long it is going to feel like for me before I see him face to face again and can tell him how much I love him and missed him. He wouldn’t have wanted to miss all of this, the goings on around here – the grandbabies, the graduations, the successes and accomplishments, the trips we had planned (we have a payment plan for our trip to Jamaica which was postponed due to his injury). And he wouldn’t have wanted me to miss this (although I never plan to ever go to Jamaica now, ever – we dreamed about this delayed honeymoon for over six years). He would want me to find a way to enjoy all of it but I just can’t see my way to that point right now.

The light and color is gone from my life and I feel like I’m watching a black & white movie with no sound or subtitles; it doesn’t make sense.

I’ll figure it out. No need to call for a welfare check. Scott also would have told you I was strong and for some reason he was really proud of that. I’ve lived through a lot and I’ll live through this. But before, he was always there 𝘪𝘯 the storm with me (ever since I’ve known him) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 on the other side of the storm. I know he will be this time but I have one hell of a hurricane to ride out. And so, I’m afraid of doing it alone.

Edited to add: Minutes after writing this post, my app alerted me to the verse of the day. Here is what it was today, because God is always on time. God is not the author of coincidence and, once you know Him, you’ll see that there are too many instances of “coincidence” to ever thing it was chance again.

“Peace is what I leave with you; it is my own peace that I give you. I do not give it as the world does. Do not be worried and upset; do not be afraid.
John 14:27 GNT

Don’t Give Up – Fairytales Are Real

Published on by God is in the OutcomeLeave a comment

May 19th, 2023

I want to say something to anyone out there who is jaded by difficult relationships, divorce, or just waiting so long to find “the One”.

Don’t give up. It’s out there, especially when God directs your steps. I’ve said that Scott was my fairytale from the day, yes, literally the day I met him. His sweet spirit was looking for mine while I had given up on looking. When we met, there was an electrical, spiritual connection that we couldn’t deny.

Oh we fussed and argued sometimes, mostly over things that are so trivial now; we’re humans and so emotions and stress and even hormones get in the way (TMI trigger warning: menopause is a beast). But he held on to me when I was in chaos and I held onto him when he was.

He told me to retire from nursing in February of 2021; I did so in April. There were a few reasons for this. The first was that he knew I had suffered through burnout for many years (nursing is not for the faint of heart) and that it wasn’t getting any better. He hated seeing me struggle as much as I was. Scott was on top of the world nursing at Jackson South in Miami so me crying over work every night broke his heart.

The second, a reason I loved with all my heart, was to have more time to spend with me. Scott was travel nursing and when I was working I had to rush down to Miami for a weekend or else ask for time off and see if it got approved and if I could get coverage. He said “then you can come see me anytime you want to and you can stay for a whole week or two”. And that’s what I did. The memories of all of those visits to him in Miami and New Hampshire and the memories of the road trip we made home together when he finished in NH and we took a slow ride home, stopping to stay in places with great food and enjoyable attractions, this will live inside me forever.

The third reason was this: I asked Scott when he said “just retire, we’ll be fine without your paycheck”. I asked, “but who will I be then? What is my purpose going to be?” My last baby was going to be graduating soon and, although I’m still a mom, I knew it soon would not be the same. And I loved being Scott’s wife so much but I feared I would feel useless and without direction. He said, in an almost prophetic way, honey, one day we’re going to have grandchildren. You always said that you wished you could have stayed home with the boys. Now you can be a stay-at-home grandma and it will save the kids tons of money in daycare so you’ll be helping them, too. (This was just over a year before we ever knew that Lillian Reese was coming into our lives). And so I agreed. I’m so very glad I did. Because if I had kept working we would have had more money…but I wouldn’t trade the last two years (or the last ten) for anything in the world, certainly not for money.

A love like that, so selfless and pure, I never believed existed. He wanted to take care of me. He wanted me to be happy. He was really enjoying travel nursing (especially in Miami) but he knew I was floundering so he came up with a solution. He stayed with me during one of the toughest battles of my life before that and then saved me from other tough ones. Because of who he was, I’ll never doubt that, every day since we met, he loved me with every beat of his heart. True love, fairytale love, unimaginable love does exist. I felt blessed and so grateful to have it every day, even when we fussed over things. It was the forever kind and I will cherish it forever, even though our time was far too short.

So DON’T GIVE UP. Don’t settle. Don’t stop believing in the miracle. Don’t expect it to always be easy but if it’s really a gift straight from God, it will almost all of the time.

I was twitterpated (ref. Bambi) since the day I met him. That never stopped.