The Christmas Tree & Glass Baubles

This is the second Christmas without my sweet husband.   As I've learned to expect, this Christmas is different from last Christmas, which was different from all the Christmases before.   Last Christmas can best be characterized as "NUMB".   We all went through the motions, but looking back on it now, I can say we were making a great attempt to be jolly and normal.

I am beginning to understand and accept the grace of transition in my life.   I've recovered from the frustrating stage of being a petulant child who refuses to accept that I can't have what I want -- my husband back -- to an adult woman who realizes that it is my job and my need to find my way alone.   There is a certain peace that I am beginning to find and to feel. 

With my new found acceptance (peace), I have been enjoying decorating my home for Christmas.   There are lights on my deck and the front of my house -- sweet fairy lights that shine out into the world welcoming the birth of our sweet Jesus.  

In the past, Len and I would have enjoyed the great "Christmas Tree Hunt" -- either going out in the woods to find a beautiful cedar (his favorite) or to a tree farm to find a spruce (my favorite).   This year my Christmas Tree is a small artificial tree that was my Mom's.   It is precious to me.   It is pre-lit (what a wonderful thing), and it is flocked so that it looks like there is snow on the branches and is adorned with beautiful, red berries -- a woodland tree.   It is perfect.   It is so perfect that I was inclined to leave it "bare" -- no ornamentation.    

Like all of us, I have amassed hundreds of ornaments collected lovingly over the years.  I usually love the hours I spend taking them out of their boxes and hanging them on the tree, enjoying the memories that each ornament holds.   As I continued to decide on how much I was going to decorate the tree and the house, I realized I did not want to use those memory-filled ornaments.   So, instead I decided I was going to just pull out my box of glass beads and simply drape them on the tree.   

To my great surprise, I opened a small box that was in with all my glass beads, and found some ancient, delicate, fragile glass ornaments that had been in Len's family since forever -- most likely his grandmother's.  I had packed them away for safe-keeping as I had always been afraid of using them.   As I opened the box and carefully discovered each beautiful little ball, I was warmed by the presence of memories of Christmases "past".    You know the feeling -- the ability (as years go on) to bump up against a "memory" and smile instead of cry.

As I held these precious balls in my hand I decided that they had to be on the tree this year.    As I began to hang them on my little tree I felt my husband, I felt his mother and father, his grandparents, his children and grandchildren -- I spoke to him and began to cry -- the gentle tears of acceptance.   I talked to him about how I loved these old ornaments, how I was missing him so much, but that we are all okay.   And then, all of a sudden, I started laughing!    I realized that here I was describing all the things that I was enjoying about Christmas, how much I missed him, and it hit me!   WAIT!   Why am I feeling bad that you aren't here with me for Christmas?   You are in heaven and getting ready to go to Jesus' birthday party!   Talk about the ultimate Christmas celebration!    I laughed, I smiled, I felt at peace.     

My simple, little Christmas tree with its fragile, delicate ornaments is perfect. 

Merry Christmas & Happy Birthday Sweet Jesus.

Grief: No Expiration Date

Denial:   I Wasn't Expecting You.

What do dreams tell us?   I've always believed that dreams are a window into our subconscious --- revealing things that we don't want to think about or that we have yet to resolve.   Our challenge is to figure out what the seemingly mismatched puzzle pieces mean.    

I have been in Florida for about three weeks now -- obviously I've lost track of time.   This has not been the pleasure trip I had planned months ago as my sweet Aunt Patti has been diagnosed with brain cancer and I came to Florida early to spend some quality time with her and help her.  I am going to leave that story for another time, as a more compelling thought is now dominating my consciousness.    

So, without going into details about my time in Venice, FL with my aunt, I am now in Casey Cay, Fl -- one barrier island north of my aunt's home in Venice.   My cousin Robin and her husband, Paul, rented a darling Sears Kit house on an incredible piece of property that runs from Little Sarasota Bay in the backyard to the Gulf of Mexico in the front yard.   Unlike Venice, it is quiet, there are no neighbors or friends bustling around, and the Florida wildlife is abundant.   In the backyard (Little Sarasota Bay and the Intercoastal Waterway) are two docks where I can sit in the shade of the mangroves and watch herons, egrets, and other birds and fish unknown to me, quietly go about their daily chores.   The front yard is an uninterrupted view of the turquoise waters of the Gulf and the horizon, with dolphins breaking water a few feet off the beach.   I've come here, to Casey Cay, to recharge and restore after three very hectic weeks helping my Aunt and hosting up to 20 relatives at a time.    Thanks to cousin Robin, I am experiencing the beach that Anne Morrow Lindberg talks about in A Gift From The Sea --- right down to the simple little house.   I feel so, so blessed!

I have been here for two nights.   And it is the dream that I had last night that has prompted me to open up the ole' laptop (there is no WiFi here) and write down this dream in hopes of understanding it and of giving it the attention I believe it deserves.   I welcome all feedback as it is yet another piece of the grief journey that has surprised me.

Last night I had a long, long dream that my sweet husband was alive.   I think it may have started where he was alive and healthy, but I can't be sure of that.   What I do remember -- the part of the dream that even coming half awake would not stop -- was that he was sick and I was trying to get him to the hospital.   In the dream we were driving somewhere --- the place is hard to pin down as during the dream we were in many towns and cities.   I find it is impossible to write the story of a dream as when you start to write it you realize how disjointed and illogical it is/was.   So, rather than try to recapture the one trillion nuances of the dream, I will boil it down to a few sentences.

The gist of the dream was that I thought Len was alive and we were sharing a normal day.  Then he got ill and while the doctors were trying to figure out what was wrong with him I realized that he had died a year earlier.   I didn't say anything to the doctors as I thought they would think I was crazy.   But eventually, I had to tell them --- we were all amazed.   What I remember most about Len during this dream is an incredible restlessness --- his pacing and confusion, a childlike attitude.       When I told the doctors that he had died a year ago they were as amazed as I was -- they didn't laugh, they didn't say "hey lady, you are dreaming" … they were just as amazed and curious.   All of my costars in the dream were helping me deny the fact that Len was dead and that this was a dream.   

Or, was it more than a dream?   Was it yet another step in the process of grief?

Denial.   One of the many steps of grief.  Steps that take NO LOGICAL sequence.   And, I guess I'm learning, that you will experience each of these steps or phases and that there is no expiration date --- you will experience them.   During this last year I have never felt a sense of denial in Len's passing --- it was real, I accepted it, I celebrated it, but I never denied it.   

Well, this morning, in the beautiful peace of this sweet, little Sears Kit house on Casey Cay, I think I finally experienced denial.   I cried.  I pleaded.   I moaned.   I groaned.   I begged God to bring Len back to me.   I cried and clung to Len begging him not to leave me.  I felt a profound grief that I haven't felt in many, many ;months.    The ONLY sense I can make of this dream here in the early daylight of the beach is that I have now firmly stood of the step of denial and I will honor it today knowing that my God is healing me and moving me along.   I hold on to the Truth that God uses change to change us.   He doesn't do it to destroy us but to coax us to the next level of character, experience, compassion, and destiny.   

"I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until is is finally finished…"   Phillippians 1:6

Working Through Denial …. 

I have returned to Venice from Casey Cay and the sadness and sorrow of my dance with denial continues.  

I am so conflicted.   

On April 28 I am supposed to scatter the ashes of my sweet husband, Len.     It has been almost 14 months since his passing and although it "seemed" like it was "time" to do it …. now that the date is approaching, I am not at all sure I am ready to "do it".    I am conflicted.   I am feeling conflicted because ….

1.  I should be ready to do this

2.  Len is probably restless in that box

3.  The kids are ready to do this 

4.  I said I would do it

5.  And my favorite -- will I ever be ready?

I am so sad.

Here at the beginning of Year 2 of Len's passing, I am feeling so very sad.   I had expected that I would be moving from sadness and beginning to really make my new life.   Instead, I am finding that Year Two is similar to Year One, but with another focus.  Year One was all about Len --- his passing, his being "gone", his being in Heaven and no longer suffering.   It is like all of my attention and emotions were focused on his passing and all of the "stuff" you have to do --- from remembering how to get up in the morning and give a darn to the joys of probate, insurance, and all the other "business" issues.    Year Two is feeling more personal.   I am so much more aware of other couples.  I am reminded constantly of how much I miss having Len in my life.   I am jealous of the couples who are still sharing life and enjoying their dreams.  I am acutely aware that while I am alive on this earth I will never see Len again.   I am just starting to feel the depths of my sorrow at losing my partner, my love.    

Who'da thunk that I would start feeling these emotions right now?   NOW -- when I'm supposed to be ready to let go and move on.   The planned sowng and burial of Len's ashes has come at the wrong time …. OR … it it exactly the right time?    Thus my state of confliction! 

Is there EVER the RIGHT time to do this???????    Are we ever READY to let our loved one(s) go?    I know in my heart, soul and even my gut that the answer to that question is YES!   Yes, we do come to that point in time when we are ready to let go.   But, I believe the time COMES to us --- it is not something controlled by the calendar.   

When do we push and when do we sit still?

My "nature" has always been to push on -- to be strong and to carry on.   I've come to learn that much of my "natural" ways of handling things are wrong.   That is is better to be still than to push.   To listen instead of talk.   To reflect rather than to act.    Perhaps it is my inner spirit that is talking so loudly to me again --- telling me to allow myself to be still -- to not push.    Why else would I feel so totally overwhelmed right now?   So raw.  So sad.  So lost.   

Is this another place where I'm rushing too much?   Expecting too much of myself?   Not allowing myself to feel the sorrow, to accept it, to embrace it and in doing so, be preparing to let go?    Hmmmm…….that thought just struck a chord.   Perhaps you are never ready (or able) to let go until you've gone through each step of grief.  I am praying that  once I've danced each step of this life-altering dance I will be truly able to accept the loss and let go and receive the gifts God is giving me let go, to heal, to mend, to move on.   

Be still and listen.  Be still and feel the feelings.   Be still and trust the process.   Be still and know that our loving God is leading us through this challenge and He hears our cry, He hears our prayers, and He will always keep us safe.    

"In times of trouble, may the Lord answer your cry.  May the name of the God of Jacob keep you safe from all harm."   Psalm 20:1   

Time

What is time?   Well, according to dictionary.com, TIME is:

1.  the system of those sequential relations that any event has to any other, as past, present, or future; indefinite and continuous duration regarded as that in which events succeed one another.

2.  duration regarded as belonging to the present life as distinct from the life to come or from eternity; finite duration.

3. (sometimes initial capital letter ) a system or method of measuring or reckoning the passage of time: mean time; apparent time; Greenwich Time.

4. a limited period or interval, as between two successive events: a long time.

5. a particular period considered as distinct from other periods: Youth is the best time of life.


Despite those definitions, I am finding that “time” is truly relative!   “It’s been so long!.”   That can mean it’s been 100 days or 1 day … depending on the speaker; depending on how MUCH the elapsed “time” dragged.    “It’ll only take second.”   So often spoken meaning not 1/60th of a minute, but just a “little” bit” of “time”.

Am I making you dizzy?   Sorry, I don’t mean to.  I’m just musing with the notion of time at the moment.   

If you have been following this blog, you know that I’ve just experienced the one-year mark of the passing of my beloved husband, Len.   One Year.   How long is one year?   It’s 360 days.   It’s 8,640 hours. It’s 518,400 seconds.   It’s one anniversary.  It’s two birthdays (mine and his).  It’s one Valentine’s Day.   It’s one Easter.   It’s one Memorial Day.   It’s one 4th of July.  It’s one Labor Day.   It’s Thanksgiving.  It’s one Christmas.   I could go on and on but I’ll spare both me and you the redundancy.   

ONE YEAR. It’s a long time.   It’s a short time.    

Less than a week ago I wrote about how I had chosen to look at the approach of the ONE year anniversary of my husband’s “going home”.   I was strong, I was positive, I was faith-filled, I was celebratory.    THEN …. in just ONE phone call, my strength, my positive attitude crumbled.   

During the afternoon of March 7 I found out that our daughter’s mother-in-law had passed after a long battle with breast cancer.    I had been praying that she would NOT pass on March 7 … to please spare my sweet Kally the pain of having another death on the same day as her precious father passed.   My prayers were not answered.   I know there is a reason both of these parents were taken on the same day, one year apart.  I have no idea of God’s plan for this, but I totally accept there is a reason and a purpose to it.

One Year. A long time?   A short time?   It’s both long AND short.  As the old saying goes …. wow, a year?  Seems like only yesterday and at the same time it seems like forever.   How true.  How true.

One Year Later. I thought I would be stronger.   Unfortunately, I found out that I am NOT as strong as I thought I was, hoped I was, or wished I were.   When I heard the news of Nathan’s Mom passing, all I wanted to do was get to Charleston to be with Kally and Nathan.   To be there to help them, to show my support and my respect for their family.   I started making all of the arrangements.   Then, once the arrangement were made, I froze!   I can hardly explain it --- I became overwhelmed with anxiety, fear, uncertainty.   A vice grip of stress and anxiety took over my body and my brain.   I became frozen in an unexplained fear … the fear that i had endured for the months right after Len’s passing.   

HOW COULD THIS BE HAPPENING?????   It’s been a year!!!!  Get over it, girl!!!!   I spent the next 12 hours trying to referee a raging fight between my gut and my brain.   My gut brain said “get it together; you have to be there; Kally needs you there; you should be able to do this; stop being such a wuss”.  My gut, on the other hand, was yelling at me to stop, to stay still, to not go.   Back and forth and back and forth the battle went on for hours.    

My support circle of friends told me to listen to my gut --- to take care of myself first.   Now, if you’re a woman, you know how hard it is to do that.   If you’re like me, my first reaction is always to meet the needs of my family.   Taking care of “me” is one of the fine arts I’ve been cultivating over the last dozen years or so.   I heard my friends …. I knew they were right …. I listened to my gut --- which I believe is my soul --- and knew it would be okay for me to take care of me.   I regret the need to do so … I wish I had endless energy and strength and fortitude …. but I don’t.   Sometimes there just aren’t a pair of big girl panties big enough to handle the situation.   

What have I gleaned from this?   GRACE.   Beautiful, sweet, gorgeous GRACE!   Grace is an amazing thing -- it comes in more colors than the rainbow.   Just when I think I’ve seen and felt every type of Grace that God provides, I am amazed (but now surprised) at finding another variety of Grace.     

Grace to be present in the moment.   Whatever that moment is ----- it is our moment; our reality; our condition … and God pours his Grace all over us when we are willing to be still and listen to his still, small voice telling us to stop....to trust...to respect.    

Thank you, my amazing God, for your Grace and your guidance.   All Things Are Possible Through You …. not me!

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

A year ago tomorrow morning (March 7) my beloved husband’s brave battle with leukemia ended.

tick tock, tick tock

A year ago tonight I had no idea that tomorrow would be the last day I had him in my life.

tick tock, tick tock

A year ago our sweet children were all gathered around their precious father …. sharing memories; sharing their love; sharing their strength; sharing their good byes.

tick tock, tick tock

A year ago our precious two year old grandson climbed up on his Grampy’s bed and showered him with love.

tick tock, tick tock

A year ago I kissed my husband for the very last time …. I wiped his brow, I whispered encouraging words, I told him how much I loved him.

tick tock, tick tock

And then …. all of a sudden he was gone.    He drew his last labored breath, smiled, and he was gone.   

The clock stopped.
There was no sound.  

The clock stopped.

There was no time; there was nothing but time.   

The clock stopped.

There was emptiness.

Now, a year later, I continue to be amazed by the journey of grief.   Grief is a rich, living, breathing entity.  Grief is a gift that God gives us that enables us to cope with the losses we experience during our human journey.   

Grief Numbs Us.   At first, grief covers us with a numbness that protects us from absorbing the totality of our our beloved’s passing.   We are in a fog, a daze.   We move, we act, we interact, but it is all through the fog of grief.   We come to find out too quickly that the numbness goes away way too soon.   

Slowly, the numbness wears off and more and more of the reality of our loss creeps in.   Sounds start to return …. senses start to reemerge …. life keeps knocking on our door even though we believe we’ve posted our “Do Not Disturb” sign.    

tick tock

Slowly the clock starts back up.   We have a sense of time again.   Time to take care of the funeral.   Time to take care of the family.   Time to take care of the “business” of dying.   Time to ...what????

tick tock, tick tock

Time to what?????   What do I do with my time?   What do I do with all this stuff?   What do I do without him?   What do I do with the rest of my life?

The clock seems to grow ever louder …. echoing around the empty house; the empty life.   We feel the need to act, to do something, to solve the puzzle.   But, we can’t.   We simply can’t.   No amount of action is going to “fix” things.   No amount of decisions is going to “change” things.   It is simply time to “be still” and let the blanket of grief cover our wounds and keep us warm while we heal, while we cry, while we slowly learn to accept the realities.

tick tock, tick tock
There is only time.

In time we learn to breath again.   In time we learn to laugh again.   In time we learn to accept our loss and to fully celebrate our loved one’s home-going.   We NEVER stop missing them.   We NEVER stop loving them.   We NEVER stop wishing, to some degree, that they were still here with us.   

Slowly and surely we come to truly accept that they have gone home to Jesus and their loved ones who went before them.   The more time I’ve spend in this piece of reality; in knowing that Len IS with our Heavenly Father, the more peace-filled I have become.   I KNOW that he is well, he is healed, he is strong, and he is happy beyond our ability to comprehend.   Talk about a snuggly blanket of peace …. there is nothing like it.  Slowly we get back about our lives -- we slowly recognize what things, activities, people make us happy, make us feel alive, make us feel as though we still have relevance.   I think that may be the hardest part -- is finding our relevance --- at least it has been for me.    After all, I didn’t ASK for this change … I just wanted my “old” life back!

“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”   John 14:18

God doesn’t abandon us in our darkest night.   He is with us every second of our grief journey.  He is there comforting us, protecting us, and when the time is right, encouraging us to open up to the next phase of his plan for us.   

What a concept!   What an awareness!   We DIDN’T die with our loved one, we are still here which means that our God is NOT done with us yet.   He has a plan for us … a plan that is better than we can imagine.

Here I stand …. one year later …. amazed (but not surprised) that my God has carried me when I couldn’t walk, led me when all I wanted to do was curl up under my bed, and now?  Now he has been revealing to me what he needs from me!   Amazing!    

About a week ago I realized that I had a choice of how I approached and experienced this first anniversary.   I had two choices:  I could be miserable and sad and filled with darkness, or I could choose to celebrate my husband’s home-going and my faith in a God who is so merciful and loving.   Needless to say, I have chosen to celebrate!   

So, Happy Home-Going my precious husband.   I know that you are basking in the presence of our Lord and that you are at peace.   I miss you terribly, and look forward to the day when we will be together again for eternity.   We are all fine, but you know that.   

It's Valentine's Day

I have been wondering what this day would be like.   Another of the seemingly endless “firsts”.   It’s now early evening and I’ve got to say, this was not a bad, or even a rough day.   

Did I think about my sweetheart.   

Most definitely.   

Did I miss wishing him a happy Valentine’s Day first thing this morning.  

Sure did.

Did I miss getting the sweet “For My Wife” valentine’s card that he would have picked out especially for me?

Oh, most definitely.

Did I miss his huge smile when he saw the hand-made Valentine’s Card I made for “my husband”.

But must definitely.

Did I miss MAKING a Valentine’s Day card filled with my love and thanks.

Oh, yes, most definitely.

Did I miss having our traditional, quiet dinner at Pixie & Bills? 

Oh, yes, definitely.

Did I miss his hugs and kisses.  

Oh, without a doubt, definitely.

I missed all these things today.   But I miss these things every day.   Valentine’s Day, to me, is a day set aside for openly expressing and demonstrating your love for those near and dear to you.   It’s a day of love and, of course, chocolates.   

I tend to be pretty outgoing with my hugs and telling people I love them.   On Valentine’s Day I take the liberty of spreading my love around even more!  I wished everyone I ran into a happy Valentine’s Day …. Sandy at the Post Office, a sweet young girl at Ingles, the cranky guy at the dump -- they all got and gave big ole Valentine’s Day smiles!    

What a lovely day.....it’s almost like Christmas --- everyone is more than willing to outwardly express love on February 14th --- too bad we can’t do that every day.   What a much more pleasant world this would be!

So, of all the “firsts” I’ve been experiencing, Valentine’s Day is one of the easiest so far.   I’ll take it!    


I received this Valentine from my grace sister, Sharon …. and I just have to pass it along.   

For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will.          Ephesians 1:4

We are so, so loved!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, My Friends!

God Uses Change To Change Us

What an interesting thought -- God uses change to change us.   Now, why didn't I think of that before?   It seems to make perfect sense, now.


In my youth I LOVED change!   I was restless, unsatisfied, curious, searching --- you name it, I was looking for "something" and change was the ticket I chose.  New places to live, new jobs, new people .... the more change (from where I had come) the better!  At this point in my life, however, change is painful.   Especially change I didn't ask for.   


WHY?   Why did my life have to change JUST when I thought it was PERFECT????   Why do I have to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing when I FOUND just what I wanted to be?   Why do I have to figure out who and what I am when I was HAPPY with who and what I had become?


Oh yes, these are the questions we ask when life deals us a change we didn't ask for.   I laugh as I write that sentence as it now occurs to me how silly the sentence is.   Oh, you silly girl, WE don't control what happens.   We don't hold the master plan of our lives.   We are not in charge of the journey .... God is.


I have been on this journey of change for 11 months now.   As I continue down this path I am constantly amazed at the blessings that my Lord pours on me.   I know they are blessings I would not have received without going through this pain, this loss, this grief ... yes, this change.   


Last Saturday was the Grace In The Wilderness Valentine's Tea for Widows.  During her talk, Mary Beth Oxendine played a song I had never heard before and it validated everything I had been feeling and experiencing this last few weeks.   The song is called Blessings and it poses the question .... what if God's mercies come in disguise?    My answer to that question is a resounding YES!   God's mercies do come to us in disguise!


Blessings (Laura Story)

We pray for blessings
We pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
All the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

The Broken Road

It is true that sometimes the path that God lays out for us is a broken road … rutted, full of pot holes, and very dangerous to our high heels and our ankles.   

Like you, I’ve been on my share of broken roads.  Today I’m thinking about a very specific broken road and the faith required to keep going down this rocky, uncomfortable path.

Have you ever heard the song, "Bless The Broken Road" by Rascal Flats?   (Yes, others have recorded it, but I’m only familiar with this one).

I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Like the writer of this song, I spent way too much of my life walking down a path that was filled with disappointment, shattered dreams, and false loves.   Then one day, God blessed me by putting my husband-to-be at the end of that old broken road.  

You know that old saying ... so-and-so looks like tens miles of dirt road? Well, I know how I looked after years and countless miles on that ole' broken road. I looked tired. I looked skeptical. I looked like I had given up hope. And I had.  

But, there stood this man. This man who was like unlike any other man I had met or known. A man that spoke to my heart without saying a single word. A man that spoke by is actions and his deeds.

Every word of this song resonates in my heart.  The song became my anthem; it was the song I sang to my husband at our wedding; it’s the song that breaks my heart every time I hear it.

Why?   I thought my broken road had ended.   I thought that having met my true love that my path would be smooth, well marked, and unobstructed.   Well, guess what?   It wasn’t.    Ten months ago my husband passed away … he had been diagnosed with ALL Leukemia and ten months later Jesus called him home.   

Now … now I’m back on a broken road.   I hear this song and I think of my sweet husband and what his love meant to me.   I hear the song and I know that what the road is now leading me to is a closer relationship with my God.   I’m walking in Faith, I’m walking with Grace … I’m walking forward knowing that ALWAYS and in ALL WAYS, God has a plan for me and it is mighty!

The last time I heard this song was at the end of our Sunday School study of the psalms of ascent. At the end of the series, Beth Moore (the author of the study) played this song for her daughter. Hearing it, I broke down into a river of tears and was silently comforted by one of my Grace Sisters. For days that song, it's original meaning, and my loss, were all that I could feel. Then, as I looked around, I realized that so many of my sisters are on the same road.

Today, I hear this song and think of my sisters ... we are all struggling with something -- a broken heart, a broken body, a broken home, a broken promise. But, the beauty is that we are all putting one foot in front of the next, being propelled by our faith, and knowing in our hearts and souls that God's love and guidance will keep us safe on this journey. God put us on this broken road and it is our job to walk the road and discover what God has designed for us ... what gifts await us at the end of the road.
Faith is what got me through my husband's illness and his death. Faith is what has kept me from crawling under the blankets and never coming out. Faith is what has sustained me. Faith is what continues to grow inside of me.
The gifts that God has given me throughout this journey are nothing short of AMAZING! Yes, Amazing, Amazing Grace! It's the stuff that fills in the potholes on those broken roads we sometimes have to walk.

From Roller Coaster to Ferris Wheel

Just when I thought I was "clicking right along" ... guess what?   One of those ole walls I keep running into jumped out and got me again!  DANG!

Since the New Year I have been:   Happy, Focused, Excited, Involved, Feeling Purposeful, Joyful.   In other words, since the New Year I haven't been crying my eyes out.   I was really excited about that since I had spent the better part of CHRISTmas week and New Year's Eve being weepy at the least, and sobbing at the worst.  

So, what turned my world around today?   You're all going to laugh and nod your head in understanding.   I spent time in my husband's basement (known as the "man cave" in today's lingo).  YUP.   I went into the basement to start weeding through some things.   YUP.   The first hour was pretty easy -- lots of obvious, easy, impersonal things to sort and toss.   And YUP, OUCH, GROAN .... all of a sudden I'm coming across things I wasn't ready to see.  CHRISTmas cards Len had picked out for the children and me that were never given, the last anniversary card I sent to him, endless pads with his writing on them.

GULP!!!  In a matter of minutes I went from "singing as I work" to "crying in my beer".   At first, as I came across each of these objects, I would wince, tear up a bit, but kiss the object and tell Len how much I love him.   However, as the number of "things" I came across grew, they accumulated a weight that amazed me.  I could not keep my perspective.   I could not have just a little boo hoo and move on.   NO!   I was MAD.   I was SAD.   I was ANGRY.  I was HURT.   I felt ALONE.  I was sobbing (again).

I am beginning to equate various stages of grief to amusement park rides.  For a long time my grief felt like being on a roller coaster.  For me that meant:  being scared, being terrified, holding on for dear life, feeling like I was going to throw up, and defintely feeling quite sure I may die.  

Now, 10 months later, my grief is feeling like a ferris wheel ride. Hmmm, she says.   Recently my grief has been a gentler, kinder ride than that ole roller coaster I was on!   The ferris wheel allows me to enjoy the view.  It moves much slower than that ole roller coaster, which means I don't have to hold on for dear life.   In fact, the ferris can be quite pleasant at times.   The ONLY time it gets a little rocky for me is when I'm up at the top of the wheel, the operator stops the wheel to let someone on or off, and the wind starts to pick up.   Then, oh yes, I start to get scared.   I STOP enjoying the ride and the view and am overtaken by my sadness, my fear, my aloneness.

The good news is .... the ferris wheel starts up again .... and because it moves nice and slow and I don't need to hang on for dear life, I can breathe, I can keep my eyes open, and I can see the beauty of the world and my life while the wheel slowly and gently brings me back to earth and the present.   

Thank you, sweet Lord, for your grace and the comfort your grace brings to us in our time of sadness, fear, and feelings of lonliness.  Grief is a long, hard journey with many seasons, many colors, and many phases.   But the one thing that is constant is God's love for us and his willingness to always be there for us and to continue to carry us and guide us out of the wilderness of grief into the warm light of his grace.