Saturday, March 10, 2012
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!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Tick Tock, Tick Tock
A year ago tomorrow morning (March 7) my beloved husband’s brave battle with leukemia ended.
A year ago tonight I had no idea that tomorrow would be the last day I had him in my life.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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