Face to Face

Today I did something I never, EVER, thought I would do.  Nor did I think I would ever want to.  Today I talked to her.  Its been 3 years since I last came face to face with the woman with whom my late husband had a 7 month affair.  And the one time I saw her I cringed.  I wanted to shout very unpleasant things to all those around so they would know the truth of the matter.   At that time it had only been a year since I found out, our marriage was still rocky, and her presence at an out of state business meeting infuriated me.  I didn't want to face her.  I didn't want her there.  I wanted to hide from it all.

I knew when I decided to go to the business meeting today that she would be there.  I wasn't sure I was ready to face her again.  So much has happened in the last 3 years.  I had no idea what would happen and how I would respond.  I figured it would be hard, I figured I may encounter some unexpected emotions, afterall I would be seeing many people who had known Jonathan and his many issues.  Walking into it this setting, after being so far removed from it all, was a bit scary.

When I first saw her, I again was disappointed that in fact she was there, and once again I had to face her.  All through lunch my eyes continued to glance her way.  I don't know why it is, but she was like a magnet.  However unlike 3 years ago I didn't feel anger or pain when I glanced her way.  Perhaps the draw was my way of getting used to the idea that yes she is here, and this is going to be part of life at these annual business meetings.

As lunch was drawing to a close, a very random thought crossed my mind.  Perhaps I should break the ice... but what would I say?  Do you tell the woman who was inimate with your husband, "I forgive you?"  Does it need to be said?  Is it the right thing to say?  And most importantly had I really forgiven her? Perhaps its more an issue of being "over it".   Instantly I ruled out the idea, why on earth would I want to talk to her.  Such a bad idea.  Then it started, my heart began to beat, it began to race.  At that moment I knew God was telling me, yes! Yes, I need to talk to her.

I still had no idea what to say.  I wasn't really sure I had anything to say.  I have closed that door of my life, I have moved on. I'm  remarried, and so so happy!  Life is peaceful again, and the memory of the affair is fading.  Although I did not know what to say, I knew I needed to move on this urge I had recieved from God, before it was too late: either she leaves, or I chicken out.  So I walked across the room, sat down beside her, put my hand on her shoulder to get her attention and simply said, "I wanted to stop over and say Hi."  My voice was quivering, it was obvious from within and without that I was nervous.  This was a really hard moment.  I had suffered so much pain because of her, yet here I was coming to her, and holding out an olive branch. 

She smiled at me, and to be honest I have no idea what she said.  Probably something about being glad that I had come to the meeting.  I continued in my nervous state and said a few really stupid things, all in the gesture of breaking the ice.  It was awkward, it was weird. And we both felt it.  I got ready to excuse myself, and then the conversation just took off.  We sat and chatted for probably a good 15 minutes, mostly about business.  She told me she had really hoped that I would come today.  Oddly enough her presence was almost enough to keep me from going.  But as I sat there I found myself thinking how nice she was, and how easy is was to talk to her.  Even as I sit here writing it I find it completely bizzarre to have those thoughts flow from my brain.

As I ended the conversation, and we stood up, once again I awkwardly asked, "can I hug you?"  And then I did.  I felt I needed that as an act of completion, the completion of my season of anger and hurt.  It marked the end of my season of feeling intimidated by her.  I hugged my once enemy, and even meant it.

I'm sitting here writing, hoping that it helps me to process all that happened in that 15 minutes.  It was so important, a defining moment in my journey, that much I know.  Perhaps this conversation was a way of bringing closure.  It was a long time ago, literally in another life, and I don't want to carry the hurts and wounds of that life into my new one.  I am so blessed, I have all the promises God gave me unfolding before my very eyes, so why should I hold on to this previous hurt?

A common theme along my healing journey has been "Nothing will have power over me."  Time and time again God had me face very hard situaitons, the things from which I ran, were the very things God caused me to face.  And in so doing, I recieved freedom.  This woman had power over me.  I felt it the moment I saw her, although I didn't realize it at the time.  I felt awkward, uncomfortable, and wished she were gone.  I was overly aware of who was around, and it seemed to dictate my actions.  Her simple presence was bondage.  Yet the moment I walked over and said hello, I took control of that bondage.  I was in control, and I was freed from that situation.  Talking to her freed me. I was no longer angry, hurt, bitter, or afraid.  I faced the giant, and realized it wasn't anything to be afraid of.

In my mind I keep replaying how nice she was and how easy it was talking to her.  I have to stop and literally remind myself that this was the woman who had a relationship with MY husband while we were married.  I have to on purpose make myself look at her through those eyes again, because today something changed.  I don't want to carry the offense against her, I don't want to make myself mad at the situation. 

There was a healing that took place in my heart towards her, in that short 15 minute conversation.  I saw her as a person.  Before she was not.  She was the woman who hurt me.  However that isn't true.  I'm understanding tonight that while her actions were not right or justified, it was not about me.  She didn't know me.  She didn't hurt me.  It was my husband who did.  He made vows to be with me.  He knew me, and committed to be with me, and HE was the one who sinned against me.  HE was the one who hurt me.  Yet I was able to forgive him, move past it and attempt to reconcile, because I loved him.  If I was able to do that with someone who knowingly brought hurt and betrayal into my life, I should be able to do it to someone who didn't know me and intentionally hurt me.  I find it very interesting that we do quite the opposite, we demonize the "other woman", and throw all our hurt, rejection and anger on her, while we give every effort to work it out and forgive our husbands, who are the ones who actually betrayed us.  I guess today I realized that if I am willing to forgive and release one, I need to forgive and release the other.

I don't know that I can say I have forgiven, or that the forgiveness is complete.  But I can say that today I made a large step in that direction.  You never really know if you've forgiven a person, truly, until you come face to face.  Perhaps the fact that I no longer feel I need to hide from her, is a sign of forgiveness at work in my heart, no matter what stage it may be.  As much as I want her to say she's sorry for what she did, that did not happen.  It would be nice to hear, but I don't need to hear it in order to forgive.  Forgiveness is for me.  Its my step which releases me from the bonds of the past.

I'm really proud of myself for what I did today.  It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.  I want to move on from my painful past.  I want to be 100% free.  I want to be able to hold my head up high knowing that I am living just and right, and giving God glory, even in the midst of painful experiences.  Most imporantly I want to have all the chains from my previous marriage broken, so that I am completely free to love my new husband and build a healthy relationship. 

I don't know what the future holds.  Will we speak again at the next business meeting? Perhaps.  I wouldn't be opposed to it.  If I saw her I probably would approach her, and give a quick hello.  I refuse to let that power her presence once held ever return. Regardless, I know that something happened in me today that was critical to my healing.  Only with time will God be able to fully reveal to me what happened inside as I came face to face with my fear. 

Just for a Season

  Fall is in full swing.  The leaves have changed, and begun to fall.  Its cold, and overcast.  And worst of all we have finally resorted to turning to furnace on.  The signs of fall are all around.  This being my first fall up north, 3 more hours north than before, I have been in awe of all the beautiful scenes around me.  The leaves changing color is far more striking than down state, rows and rows of orange, red, and yellow line the streets, over looking lakes, and up and down rolling hills. I've stopped a few times just to admire and take it all in.  I have enjoyed every bit of the change of seasons.  But as we press further into fall, I'm not as in love as I once was.  The intial thrill I found in pulling out my long sleeve shirts, jeans, and boots is gone.  Now I'm resisting wearing a very necessary coat, and waiting to see how much cold I can endure before turning the heat on.

Season bring change, some of the change we enjoy, while other parts we dread.  We all have a favorite season, one we enjoy more than others, and its usually hard to let go of that season and welcome the new one.

About a year and a half ago I entered the doors of a new church for a Saturday evening Easter service. I was going to support some dear friends who were involved in the service.  They had been a huge support to me in the previous 4 months since the passing of my first husband.  I had hardly attended a church other than my own for the past 12 years, but this night I ventured out.  Not long into the worship service I heard God say to my spirit, "come here and heal."  That was it.  I knew at that moment that the time had come to leave my home church of 12 years.

God had already been preparing me for months.  He had told me that fall that my new husband would not be at my home church.  I listened carefully, but continued to attend.  I knew that God would direct me when the time was to go.  As a matter of fact, there were a few instances during the several months while I still attended that I was extremely frustrated and I wanted to leave.  "That's it! I'm done!"  But once I cooled down, I knew it wasn't the right time.  And I continued to wait for God to show me when and where to go.

On that Saturday evening I entered a new season of life.  For months I had been known at church only by my current pain, my late husbands struggles, and a single mom and widow.  I felt alone.  I felt that everyone was watching me. I felt that I had to keep up a facade so that God would get praise.  But the moment I closed that door, and opened a new one, at the new church, I found freedom.  No one knew me.  No one knew my situation.  No one had to know.  All they knew was I was Jenn, and I loved God.  During that season I found freedom to truly worship God with all my heart, in reckless abandon, caring not what others think, but what God thought.  I found myself at the altar almost every Sunday.  Sometimes it was to worship, other times to praise.  Often it was to kneel before God's presence, almost in a lump at the altar, broken, hurting and helpless before God.

In that season I fell in love.  I fell in love with worship.  I fell in love with the new freedom I had found.  I fell in love with God again.  I would go to church solely to meet with God.  It was just me and Him.  And then I would leave.  I grew in faith. I grew in knowledge.  I broadened the scope of my understanding with God. It was wonderful.

Then, just as the cold continues to set in, and its time to change over your closet, a new season began in my life.  I met a man, a wonderful man. This man captured my heart, and carried it 3 hours north.  Now I live 3 hours away from the church that I had become so connected with.  At first it was hard, and we would discuss often about how powerful my home church was, and I would cry about leaving.  I had experienced such wonderful things while there I didn't want to leave it for a church that didn't experience what I had, or worship the way I had grown to worship.  After several conversations we decided to find a church at which we as a couple fit better, and we did.  Now that I have been up here for several months, and regularly attending a new church, I've had the grace to let go.

God told me "come here and heal."  That's exactly what I did.  Like a hospital stay, I came in broken.  During my stay I received care. I was rejuvenated. And I was healed.  Now that I am healed God has released me to move forward.  He healed me, so that I would be ready for the life I am now building.  He healed me so that I would be able to love, when the man He had chosen came into my life.  He healed me so that I could walk away from everyone I knew, and everything I had, and trust Him to create a new life for me.  He healed me.

Back in a Moment

The further down the path you are, the more you forget.  You forget the hurt, the pain, the reality of it all.  Even starting a new life, I look back as if I'm watching a movie. My emotions are limited, best compared to the reaction I felt as I watched The Notebook, or Titanic.  Except its not Kate Winslet playing the lead, its the vaguely familiar girl, who I don't realize at first, is myself.  Its sad, it pulls at my heart, but it doesn't feel real.  That is until the moment comes...

Someone says something, you walk into a familiar place, or facing a new experience alone.  Suddenly you are back, and it only took a moment.  Your mind, heart, and soul fall back in that moment, and its real.  The triggers are unexpected, and can't be tracked.  Throughout my journey as a widow I found myself back in the moment, in the oddest situations: attending preschool parent night, walking into the restaurant where he took me the night he proposed, attending an industry training meeting.  Last night it was hearing someone say "I want my wife to pass on first, so she doesn't face the pain of burying me." POOF! I was back in the moment.

I felt the overwhelming confusion, why did I go back to work? How did I even function.  And I felt this sadness slowly creeping over me.  I thought about kneeling at the grave the day we buried him, and saying "I leave it all here.  I'm burying it all."  Why is it that our emotions do that? Why does a simple phrase, smell or location take us back to the moment?  Perhaps thats how healing works.  We move on, we live life, and every so often our emotions flex out of shape.  Just like a broken bone acts up when it rains, our pain lies dormant, and when the weather changes, we remember.

Healing is a process, its not an event.  I know that no matter how wonderful life is, how complete I feel, that moments like these will happen.  I know that the longer I live, the less often they will be.  Perhaps these moments are for my benefit.  Maybe I need to remember, so that I can truly live.  Remembering makes me realize how far I have come, how much I have grown and how amazingly God has turned my life around in 2 short years.  Remembering helps me reach out to those who are on the path I once walked.  Remembering is important.  No matter how long I live, how strong and happy of a marriage I have, I want to remember what I have been through.  I want to look back on the movie of my life, shed a few tears, then turn off the TV, wipe my eyes, and enjoy the reality of the life in which I now live.

My Path

I am a member of the widow club.  I joined the club almost 17 months ago.  Many of you are members too.  Its not a prestigious group by any means.  Its not a status symbol, like a country club.  And my prayer for you is that if you aren't a member, that you never will be.  Being a widow is hard.  We face things unimaginable.  We carry with us baggage that most don't ever deal with.  The paths which brought us here are wide and varied.  And the paths we take after that unforgettable moment when time stopped, are just as different.

I have met many widows since joining.  A variety of women with a variety of stories.  Widows who lost their husbands unexpectedly, in their 40s, from a heart condition they didn't know he had.  Widows who lost their husband after 25 years of marriage from a sickness.  I've met widows who have been single now for many years, and widows who met and fell in love again in just a few years.  There is not a cookie cutter path which got us here, and there is not a cookie cutter path to lead us out.

I appreciate the sisterhood of women who stand by me, and whom God has brought along my path.  But as I talk with them I continually remind myself that my path is unique.  That's not to say its better, or worse, its just different because its mine.  Before time God knew this would happen to me.  Before time He put a plan in place.  Before time He wrote my happy ending.  And He wrote yours too.

While running a race this past weekend I met a widow, in her 50s, who had been widowed for 9 years.  What she said impacted me greatly.  "I have dark days.  I still hit bottom."  Bottom...Nine years later? I was in awe.  I know a part of me will always love Jonathan.  He will always be a part of my life, as he was a part of my past.  He made me who I am today, through the good and bad times, he helped shape me.  But I don't have dark days anymore.  I don't hit bottom anymore.  Why? Why don't I struggle 17 months later the way this woman continues to struggle? Is it because of our relationship and its problems? Is it because of the freedom I found from his addictions?  Why don't I struggle?  The answer is obvious.  Its simple. Its one word, one name, above every name... Jesus!

I don't hit bottom because of Jesus.  His name is above grief.  His name is above despair.  Jesus is on my widowhood path, and He holds my hand with each step I take.  If you are walking your widow's path alone, stop.  Take Jesus' hand.  Let Him walk it with you. Let Him heal your heart.  Let Him turn your mourning into dancing.  You may have experienced a tragedy, but it need not define you.  God has a plan for you!  He's not done with you.  There is a hope, there is a new life, there is a glorious future, and its in Jesus!

Stuff

March was a crazy month: full of packing, downsizing and moving.   I moved out of my 3400 square foot dream home, into my new home, a 1000 square foot condo.  I spent an entire month deciding which belongings to keep, and which items I was ready to let go.  I paraded stranger upon stranger through my home to purchase my belongings.  I watched my memories move out the door one by one.  Some of the belongings were easy to depart with, others were much harder.  In addition, I took 7 trips to the local Salvation Army, donating clothing, baby items, furniture and home decor.  I had downsized drastically.

I felt confident and strong. I realized that releasing these items from my life brought a new and unexpected level of healing.  It was time, and I was ready.  I had a past life that included my late husband Jonathan, but I have a future as well.  My future is not for the woman I was, or the life I once had, but it is for the woman I am now and the woman God is creating me to be.  With excitement I decided I was ready to let all my furniture go and buy new pieces for the new home.  I wasn't trying to wipe out every sign or memory of Jonathan as I had a year ago.  Rather I am really ready to move on. I am ready to start a new life; a clean slate.

As I walked into my new condo mid way through the move, my heart sank.  I was so excited to start this new life, I never anticipated what was about to happen.  I looked through my new condo, now filled with furniture, boxes and more boxes.  The open space was filled and I realized the reality of 1000 square feet.  It was smaller than it seemed before.  I walked into the garage and I couldn't stop the steady tear stream flowing from my eyes.  Boxes everywhere! Stacked all the way to the top, leaving a small path to walk through.  The worst part was this was just the first trip.  There were 2 more trips of belongings still to come!

I was utterly frustrated and disappointed.  I had been so proud of myself for releasing my belongings.  I had felt the healing with every item I had let go.  I thought I had downsized.  But I was disillusioned.  I had way too many things.  I had way too much stuff.  And it was never gonna fit.  In that exact moment I knew God was still working on me.

I thought of the rich young ruler.  He came to Jesus and said, "What must I do to obtain eternal life?"  Jesus told him to sell everything and give the money to the poor, then come and follow Him.  The young man went away sad because he had many possessions.  Imagine being invited by Jesus to follow him.  That's the opportunity of a lifetime!  Yet this young man let his possessions hold him back.  Because of the amount of belongings he had, he wouldn't follow Jesus.

I decided I didn't want to miss my opportunity.  God has something amazing He is doing in me right now, through this move.  I don't know what it is, just as the ruler had no idea what awaited him had he followed Jesus.  But I do know that I do not want to let my possessions hold me back.  Given the choice to have my belongings or have the unlimited opportunity which Jesus provides, I choose Jesus every time!  It may not be easy to downsize even further, but I am determining to experience the complete full life which God provides.  That same abundant life He offered to the rich young ruler.  My possessions are just things.  Its only stuff.  It doesn't complete me, or bring ultimate fulfillment in life.  Jesus does.  Jesus completes me.  Jesus is my fulfillment.

Sold!

I did it! I have sold my home.  About a week ago I accepted an offer from a buyer.  It seemed so simple and easy to do: say yes, sign the papers, and its done.  Even though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I'm excited to move forward, it isn't really that simple.

This weekend, I met the purchasers.  They came for the house inspection, and I was still getting my son ready to leave.  As they walked in the house I realized the new buyers are young.  Much younger than me.  Perhaps they were 25.  They are an engaged couple who are marrying in June.  My dream house, the one I didn't get into until I was 33, after living in 2 other homes, was to be their very first home.  I have to be honest and say I had one of those "holy" moments, "Why do the wicked prosper?" (Jeremiah 12:1).  Why am I, a faithful woman of God, seeming to go backward in life, and these young people getting THIS for their first house.

I admit it was a bad attitude to have.  Quickly I realized that they were also getting the ginourmous mortgage payment, and the financial weight it carries.  I thought, yes I have been young, entitled, and stupid before.  I quickly realized that I was glad to give it up, to walk away from this stressful financial situation and into financial freedom.  Selling this house is a life changer for me, in a good way!

Despite my moment of bitterness and pride, seeing someone younger than me seeming to achieve more than I have, I really liked this family.  The couple was there with their parents, and all of them were very genuine and nice to my son and I.  It was extremely hard to watch this new bride ooh and ahh over my dream home, as I had just 3 years prior.  I remember holding onto my husband, and saying, "I love it.  I want this house."  And he made it happen.  He didn't give me much affection, adoration, confirmation, or even attention in our last few years together, but he gave me this house.  It was his way of showing me how much he loved me.

I wonder what it felt like for this young couple, so full of excitement, to see a woman just 10 years older, crying as she walks away from the dreams she once held.  The dreams which ended so abruptly as her life fell apart.  To have once been that excited wife, picturing filling the bedrooms with children, and those children running through the house.  The joy and laughter echoing through the halls as the family grows over the years.  I had those dreams.  And they didn't happen for me.  Not here.  With many tears, I leave those dreams here in this house, for her to pick up and carry.  I leave the struggles we had here.  I leave the hurt and pain here.  I leave my shattered life here.  With those same tears I walk away into freedom.  I walk into a new hope, a new dream, and a new future which God has prepared for me!

Another Birthday

This past weekend I traveled to disneyworld to run the Disney 
Princess Half Marathon.  This trip was such an important event for me on a variety of levels and I am so glad that I took the time to make it happen.

On Saturday I celebrated my 35th Birthday, in Disney, as a princess.  That in and of itself was awesome.  I love my birthday.  It's a symbol of a new year, new adventures and excitement over the future.  The past few years have not been filled with that. But this year was different. My situation this year is different. I am different. This year my birthday felt like a turning point, and being away, on my own, at Disney accomplishing a major life event, was symbolic.   


My birthday and the new year it signifies started off full of adventure, independence and confidence.  I am not the woman I was last year.  I am strong, physically and emotionally.  I'm okay... No I'm more than okay.  Im loving my life.  I am doing things I never thought I could, and doing them well.  I am proud of myself and that personal feeling of satisfaction is enough.  I'm doing it for me, not for anyone else, or for anyone's approval.  

It seems like my journey through grief has hit a major turning point.  While I feel it, I dont entirely know what it means.  I do know that I am a survivor. The hardest days are behind me. The moments of "no one is here" are gone.  Because no one has to be here, I'm here and I'm happy and that's all that matters. I can celebrate on my own, or with strangers and I don't feel like anything is missing in my life anymore.  It's a freeing feeling.  If this past weekend was any indication of the road I'm on and the course this next year will take, I am ready!  

Disney Princess Half Marathon

Sunday morning I woke up at 2 am to get ready for my ball. I had a date with 16,000 others who were going to run the Disney Princess Half Marathon. I got into my Belle costume: sequined skirt, gloves, rose and all.  I chose Belle because she was my sister's favorite princess and since she died about a year ago I wanted to run this in her memory!  Once I was ready, I made my way to the bus, and hopped on board, by now it was 3 am. 

It was a bit of a wait until the race started at 6 am, but I filled the time with meeting up with some online running moms from around the country, and even making friends with some random strangers.  Then at 6 am when the fairy godmother shouted 3.... 2.... 1.... And fireworks went off, I started my race.  13.1 miles through the Disney World roads, including Magic Kingdom and Epcot.

My favorite part of the race was running up main street in the magic kingdom, and seeing cinderellas castle.  The streets were lined with crowds, and even though I didn't know a single person, it didn't matter.  Their cheers got me excited, their signs made me laugh, and when I made it around the castle and began to run underneath I wanted to cry.  What girl doesn't want to be a princess and live in a castle, right? Well sometimes life isn't a fairy tale.  Sometimes you face hard situations. Sometimes you lose loved ones.  Sometimes you feel like the evil one is winning, but at that moment, as I ran under the castle I  was winning! I didn't need a prince or a carriage, or even a castle. I was a strong independent woman, discovering something I love, living and enjoying life.  I was a princess!

My goal was to finish the race in under 2 hours and 30 minutes.  Based on my training this was a reasonable goal.  Having only run one other half marathon this past fall, at 2 hours 48 minutes, I was confident I would break that and set a personal record.  3 miles into it I realized I was about 3 minutes off and the 2:30 time was unlikely.  At that moment I made the choice to do my best and if I didn't break it, it was okay.  That was a huge deal for me to be okay with, as I usually set very high expectations of myself and get very disappointed in myself for not meeting them.  Perhaps the struggles of losing a spouse and dealing with his addictions have helped me to relax and enjoy life more than I did before. 

I am very proud to say that I had an amazing run! I finished in 2:33:38!  I set a personal record and took almost 15 minutes off my previous time! While it may not have been my initial goal, I am pleased and I have no regrets.  I am sure that as I crossed the finish line, my arms raised in victory, that my sister karrie, my late husband Jonathan, and my father were all watching from heaven.  Cheering for me when I was tired, and celebrating with me as i finished.  I know they would never have thought I would do this! And if they were still here, who knows if I ever would have.  

Words can not express how grateful I am to have found running.  It has become not only my stress reliever but my grief reliever.  It's my healing process.  Each race I accomplish, each celebration I have is a way to celebrate my new life, my new adventure.  Just like this race, I've had expectations for my life, and a few years back I realized those things may not happen right away.  But I've decided that i am just going to run it my best, enjoy each mile and celebrate... whatever the result may be!

Cleansing

When my late husband died, I felt this hurry and rush to get rid of his stuff.  Someone I respected greatly in my life had shared her story how God had led her family to remove all of her deceased husband's belongings from her home the day he died.  It helped her healing process immensely.  Knowing this, I thought if I want to get through this and heal I need to do the same.  So I went through his belongings and gave things away, all within the first week.  Months later I was longing for his Bible, and wishing I kept his shirts to make a blanket for my son.  It wasn't the right time for cleansing.  And I learned it the hard way.  

Now 14 months later I am downsizing.  In preparation for selling my home, and reducing my living space by almost 2/3, I am needing to clean through.  While I removed almost all of my late husband's belongings immediately, there are so many things I still have which were ours, or my personal belongings which are a symbol and memory of the life we had together.  Some of them are little things like pictures, our original towels we registered for and cards he sent.  And there are other things like the first couch we picked out, our baby grand piano which I taught my step daughter how to play, or his desk.  

As I prepare for the move, I'm throwing out, donating and selling a lot of things. I recognized that it feels really good.  I had been dreading dealing with all these things, and ultimately starting over where my possessions are concerned.  But its been healthy, and I have felt a lot of healing.  See there is a time to cleanse your past, to wash away what was, and let God begin a new work.  When God prompts you to take that step, and clean out, it will be refreshing.  It may still be hard, there may still be tears, but in the end you will feel lighter, and refreshed.  It took me 14 months to hit the place where the cleansing came and brought refreshing!  I feel lighter, excited, and ready to close that chapter of my life, in a way I wasn't aware of before.

Another important lesson I learned was that what God directs one person to do is not a formula or "the" standard.  I need to hear from God for myself, and let Him work His healing through me in the way He knows is best.  Each one of us widows is different.  We may have a common bond, and understand the hurt and pain, confusion and despair.  But our lives, our marriage, our loss of our spouse is a unique experience.  We need God to lead us through the grieving process.  There is no formula for healing.  There is no typical way that grief appears in our lives, or our children's.  Each one of us have a different story, a different experience and a different path to healing.  My prayer for you is that you would hear God's voice behind you leading you down your path.  And as you listen that you would experience His promise to you:  

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion,

³ 

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness

Isaiah 61:2-3

Sacrifice is Never Easy

Sacrifice is never easy.  When God asks something big of you, it may hurt, and it may be hard to do.  I don't believe that He always asks hard things of us, but there are times when obeying God is a sacrifice.  God is a jealous God, and when we place things above Him, it will hurt to give them up, or to realign our life the way it should be.

Lately I've been working through the emotion of the next steps of my healing journey, and all that it means.  God has revealed to me that I have placed my house as an idol above Him.  And before I can truly move on in my healing as a widow, I need to deal with the idol.  It is very hard for me to downsize all that I have.  My possessions have become my personal "arrival" in life, or a sign of all I have accomplished.  I know God is calling me on to something greater, and when I get there it is going to be wonderful.  But today, as I prepare to start cleaning stuff up, giving stuff away, and downsizing, its hard.  And it hurts!  Sacrifice is never easy.

Think of Abraham.  God told him to sacrifice his only son: the miracle child God gave him.   This was to be a literal sacrifice.  Lay your son on the altar, slay him, and set the altar on fire! I can't help but wonder, why did God ask that of Him?  Was Abraham a bit like me? Did He unknowingly put his beloved son Issac above God? Was Issac the symbol of Abraham's life accomplishment? Did God need to be put back in His proper place in Abrahams life? Regardless of why, God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son.  I can't even imagine how hard obeying that command must have been. But Abraham set out to do it.  After seeing Abrahams willingness, God stopped him at the very last minute.  God saw Abraham was willing to have nothing come between him and God, and provided a ram for the sacrifice instead.  Even so, that day must have been one of the hardest in Abraham's life.  Sacrifice is hard.

Look at Jesus.  He had a glorious and wonderful life in Heaven.  Yet he sacrificed it all, leaving behind everything.  He was God, and He laid it all down to come to earth as a man.  There was nothing easy about that.  Now fast forward 33 years to the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus knew He was going to be arrested, beaten beyond recognition, whipped within a breathe of His life, then mocked and hung naked on a cross until death.  He cried as He sought God for strength to face it.  He cried so hard he bled.  Jesus was sacrificing it all so that we could enjoy eternity with Him in Heaven. Sacrifice is hard.

Finally I think of the rich young ruler who asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life.  Jesus told him to sell all of his things. Why? Because those things owned him.  They were idols in His life.  His things had replaced God as his source, and he found his identity and measure of success in them.  God knew.  He is a jealous God.  He says, "have nothing before me!"  I believe Jesus asked Him to sell his belongs for this reason: they were above God.  Unwilling, the rich young ruler walked away sad, because he had many possessions (Mark 10:17-22). Sacrifice is hard.

I feel very much like this rich young ruler. I unknowingly have placed some things above God.  If they weren't above Him, it wouldn't be so hard.  But unlike the ruler, I recognize that God doesn't take away from us.  He only adds.  Its like planting a seed in the ground.  By giving up what I have, God is adding peace to my life.  By down sizing, God is adding stability to my situation.  By ridding myself of idols, God is adding the promise of His blessing in my life.  By closing the door on this chapter of my life, God is adding a new future, new memories, the opportunity for a new family and building a new life together with them. It is not going to be easy.  But I know one day soon I will be writing you from the other side.  I will be saying how free I feel, and how I wish I had done it sooner.

Sacrifice is hard... but it is always worth it!

Are You Ready?

I'm one of those people who feels like I have to earn everything.  When it comes to God's blessings I always feel like I have to work for them.  For example, years ago before I started dating my late husband, I remember needing to scrub the kitchen floor and I really didn't want to. But I had this conversation with myself: "How can God send your husband if you won't take care of this floor?"

It seemed to make sense.  How could I expect God to bless me with a husband, if I couldn't even keep my floor clean?  But that isn't how God works.  God doesn't expect us to reach a certain level, or obtain a certain status so that He can bless us.  God doesn't say to us, "Clean up your life so you are worthy of my son.  Then He will save you."  NO! He is exactly the opposite. He sees us as sinners, who don't even recognize His goodness, or even see the reality of Jesus as our Savior.  And in that state, our worst state ever, He sent Jesus to save us.  And all we need to do is believe that Jesus is His Son, and we are saved.  No works involved.  Nothing to earn, nothing to prove.

I'm reminding myself of all of this, because once again I'm struggling with my own need for perfection.  On Christmas Eve, my late husbands step-dad (of 22 years), turned to me and said in seriousness and compassion, "You need to find yourself someone.  That's how your gonna move on. Start a new life."  Tears rolled down my face as he spoke.  I felt such a freedom, and a sincere love from him.  And the truth is I think about finding someone often.  I have started to put myself out there, as much as a single stay at home mom can.  And this is what brings me to my internal struggle of earning God's gifts.

If you've been following me for any amount of time you know what a roller coaster I've been on.  The ups and downs of grief, and the loop the loops of single parenting have me screaming, holding on for dear life, and even ready to barf at times.  How can I even consider bringing a man in on all of that?  I had this thought so often, and heard it from so many, "You can't move on until your healed."

The more and more I think about being healed, and waiting to move on until my healing is complete the less sense it makes.  Is there a certain event that passes, and its your marker stating the grief has ended.  Is there a long enough amount of time that can heal the unexpected loss of your 38 year old husband.  More and more I have come to realize that healing is a process.  And a hurt as deep as becoming a widow, is not one that heals easy as paper cut.  In fact, I'm not sure I will ever be completely healed from what I have been through.  And if God requires me to be completely healed and 100% emotionally repaired, I don't think I will ever have a new relationship.

I believe its not about being healed, but rather being ready.  Its okay to move on and still be walking through grief.  In reality I am sure grief will visit us for the rest of our lives.  On my step daughter's graduation day.  When my son plays his first baseball game.  When our children get married.  And of course the first time I see our grandkids.  Grief will be there.  The question then becomes are you ready to move on? Am I ready?

I personally am not entirely sure if I am ready.  And its something that only I can know.  In the last year I had influential friends and even pastors telling me to move on quickly, and I got in a relationship way too early.  I wasn't ready, I hadn't even grieved.  But I listened to what other's told me.  And it was a mistake. I can see that now.  From that I learned to listen to my heart, and listen to God, not to others.

Sometimes you don't know if your ready to walk until you stand up and try.  And if I take a step and crash to the ground, I'll know to sit back on the couch and rest up a bit more.  But if I take that small step, and I don't fall, then I'll know I'm ready.  The glorious future God has promised me and my son is just up the path.  I don't have to be healed to get on that path, or to even walk down it.  I don't have to have every part of my life functioning in perfect order.  I just have to be ready. Ready to follow God when He says "take my hand Jenn, come and see what I have waiting for you!"

Where are you Christmas?

"Where are you Christmas?

Why can't I find you?

Why have you gone away?

Where is the laughter

You used to bring me?

Why can't I hear music play?

My world is changing,

I'm rearranging.

Does that mean Christmas

changes too?"

-Faith Hill, Where are you Christmas

I can't put it any better than this.  While this isn't technically the first Christmas after my late husband's passing, I consider it the first one.  Last year we were in such a fog, just 4 weeks before he left us, and we were going through the motions.  But this year, I've had to face the entire Christmas season on my own. 

 I have always loved Christmas, the lights, the decorating, Christmas music, and of course the presents!  And this year I have been stepping out in faith and going through the motions of Christmas.  Its been different, its been hard.  Yes my life has changed and so has Christmas.  While the changes feel awkward and strange, I know that in time they will become the new normal.  

I'm facing Christmas this year in hope, and with a saddened but grateful heart.  I'm thankful for all the wonderful family Christmases we have shared in the past.  Remembering the Christmas we went to church in our jammies and slippers, because our Christmas tradition was to stay in our pajamas all day.  I'm remembering how excited he would get opening pounds and pounds of beef jerky.  I'm remembering all the Christmas movies we would watch, and how he would always say, "I want to be George Bailey."  

I choosing to have hope this holiday season.  Hope that my heart, and my family are healing.  Hope that we can find Christmas and enjoy it once again.  This hope is evident in the fact that my 15 year old step daughter is coming this year! It has always been tradition for her to wake up at our house on Christmas Eve and open presents.  Last year she just couldn't do it.  But this year she's rejoining us!  I'm so excited to share Christmas with her.  Together the three of us are forging a new road.  And somehow knowing that Jonathan can look down from Heaven and see us brings me such an amazing comfort.  I know that as we wake up and open presents, he will be with us.

So my friends, from the bottom of my heart I wish you a Merry Christmas.  May you once again find Christmas this year.

Click here to watch the video: Where are you Christmas?

Give Yourself Permission

Last night was a late night.  I knew I'd face some big adjustments coming home from our vacation.  As it turns out, my son rather enjoyed sleeping in the same room with mommy, and decided we should continue it at home.  A three and a half hour battle ensued, after which I was finally victorious; and he fell asleep in his own room.  If I could have turned in a resignation slip on my life, I would have. I was that worn out and frustrated.  I knew at 11:30 pm, that waking my son up for preschool at 7:45 the next morning was going to be a challenge, if not impossible.  When the alarm started going off at 7, I made the decision.  I gave myself permission to forgo our normal schedule and let him sleep in.

Setting aside a schedule? Missing preschool?  Canceling a business meeting? Nine months ago I would never have let myself out of these commitments.  And if I had, I would have beat myself up for days about being irresponsible, wasting money, or being lazy.  Yet over the course of the last year I have learned sometimes I need to give myself permission to back out, for something more important.  After a long and crazy busy week on a cruise, both my son and I were overtired.  And it showed in our emotions and interactions with each other. Add to that the cold we were both fighting, and a little extra sleep was probably the wisest choice.  I wasn't being irresponsible or lazy. In fact I was doing the opposite.  Setting aside a commitment and schedule for our best interest: our emotional, and our physical health, was the right choice.

I give myself permission to rest when I need it. I give myself permission to stay home from events when I need it.  I give myself permission to take extra time for me when I need it.  I give myself permission to recover and to heal!  After all, I just walked out of tragedy, three years worth, and it takes a toll on a person.  I'm in a healing process.  Think about your physical body.  When a muscle is injured, it hurts.  Not just at the moment the injury occurs, but even after.  The mobility and use of that muscle is limited.  The impact of that limitation comes on suddenly, and with time it slowly improves.  But it is gradual and it is a process.  The same applies to tragedy and loss.  When tragedy hit my life, my mobility was impacted dramatically.  And as time goes on the pain subsides, and I begin to regain mobility.  But it doesn't happen overnight.

 I remember vividly the first time I gave myself permission, without feeling any guilt.  It was last May when I was experiencing an emotional meltdown.  I was completely overwhelmed.  I had lost my husband, and repressed my grief.  I was teaching, running a business, and trying to figure out single motherhood.  I was involved in 2 moms groups, and serving weekly in a healing ministry.  It was so much more than I should have been doing, and more than I could handle.  It was the equivalent of running a marathon on a sprained ankle.  My mobility was limited, but I just kept going.  It hurt. And I crashed! I rolled over that Thursday morning as my alarm went off, and I knew I didn't have it in me physically to go to the last moms meeting. So I texted in that I wasn't coming.  I went back to bed without even flinching. Even though I was the leader of that small group, I knew I needed to take care of me at that moment.  And I did.

Since then I've become better at giving myself permission.  I can't say I'm perfect, or that I don't miss opportunities to step back, but I'm better.  Today was one of those days where I did what was right for me, and my son.  And I'm proud of myself for being bold enough to make the call.  I proud that I've learned to give myself permission.

Proactive Distraction

Some of the best advice I received from my counselor in the weeks following Jonathan's death was to be proactive about the holidays.  Since he died on Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years were right around the corner.  And without a plan they were sure to feel like salt in our open wound of death.  She said not to wait and see what would happen on the holidays, but to make a plan, perhaps even go out of town.  It was great counsel, and I followed.  My son and I went away over New Year's to an indoor waterpark and had the best New Year's Celebration I can remember!

Since the approach worked so well for New Years, and even our wedding anniversary I figured a little proactive distraction would be perfect for this first year anniversary.  I really didn't want to face being in our home, where he died on the day he died.  It seems a little overwhelming for me.  In addition family holidays are not the same.  Not only has Jonathan left a hole, but out of the 8 family members that were regulars, 4 have passed away in the past 2 years, including my sister last spring.  So the 4 of us staring at each other, with empty spots at the table just isn't appealing. Its time to start making some new traditions.

Our new Thanksgiving tradition is skip town and head to the Caribbean.  That's right, this year I will be sailing aboard a cruise ship over Thanksgiving.  I anticipate this will help me to walk through the first anniversary a little easier.  In no way to expect it to take the hurt, pain, or sadness away from the anniversary date.  I know I will still feel those things.  Perhaps my parents and I will have a conversation about him.  Maybe I will order steak that night in his memory, or even play a hand of texas hold 'em in his honor.  I am sure in some way I'm going to commemorate the day.  But having somethings to look forward to, instead of dread, are going to make the day bearable.

I'm curious to see how I handle cruising without him.  We had gone on 2 previous cruises, both with my parents.  And now hear I am ready to embark on a caribbean exploration without him.  I wonder if visiting Islands we had previously been to together will bring back memories.  Much like walking into Lelli's Restaurant brought me to tears so unexpectedly last fall on my dad's birthday.  Everywhere I looked I saw him, we had many memories in that restaurant, and it showed on my face the moment I entered.  Will that happen on the ship?  Will I remember the stair way where we took pictures? Will I be saddened swimming in the pool without him?  What will I feel as I pass by pirate themed merchandise on the Islands, or walk past a cigar shop?  They are all memories of him and our previous trips.

I hope that as I venture on this trip that I will remember him.  I hope that I will be able to, for a moment, forget the hurt, pain and frustration of the last few years and remember a different man and a different time.  I want to remember how in love we were on that first cruise.  I need to recall the fun adventures we found on the ship.  I think that I need to remember those times.  I believe it is part of my healing.

I believe that God has a plan for this trip, and He has healing on His mind.  I know He is going to get me through the anniversary day, and it is going be beautiful. Instead of sitting home and inviting overwhelming grief, we are going to be walking the sand beaches of Mexico.  We are going to be reflecting on this past year.  We are going to be remembering Jonathan.  We are going to be sad.  But we will be together.  And we will be okay!

Seems Like an Odd Time

I am taking a marriage class. "Really?" I ask myself,  "Now?  Isn't this the absolute oddest time for me to take a marriage class?"  And its not because I'm single.  Before I was married, or even dating, I took a marriage class, and it was extremely beneficial.  It helped me to learn quite a few things I didn't know about Christian marriage.  I took another marriage class with my husband during the course of our marriage.  And I even went through almost a year's worth of marriage counseling.  All that was amazing, and very appropriate.  But now I am a widow. I'm purposely not dating right now.  And I am still healing from the loss of my husband, and the issues which we had to face during those last 3 difficult years.  

It doesn't make any sense to me in the natural that I would find my self at this stage in life taking a marriage class.  But God's timing and God's plan doesn't always make sense to us.  Sometimes it does feel a little awkward to be in a marriage class after just losing a spouse. But even as I am sitting here writing this I am realizing how amazingly appropriate it is.  

My husband and I had been through some very difficult times, and through that season of reconciling we attended amazing marital counseling.  After going through that type of situation and seemingly making it through, you think you know a thing or two about marriage.  To be honest, I learned a lot about marriage in that season, which is going to tremendously bless my next one, when the Lord brings it.  But you almost feel like you know it all; after all we reconciled after a tremendous blow to our marriage.  I forgave, I accepted, I did everything right.  "I don't need a marriage class, not now." Between all my experience, previous knowledge gained, and the fact that I am not pursuing a relationship right now, the topic of "marriage" just doesn't entice.  Don't misunderstand me here, I am not saying I'm an expert on marriage, but I did feel very confident that I have a good handle on the topic.  After all I lived it.  But I humbled myself to the schedule set before me for my ministry school and I am taking the class.

I expected the class would confirm somethings which I've already learned.  And I expected to learn a few new things as well, that I could put in my back pocket and save for the future.  I expected to feel uncomfortable and awkward at times.  But what I didn't expect was the healing that God would bring through this class.  This healing is two fold: understanding and confirmation.

I'm receiving some very in depth understanding about my late husband.  God is revealing layers of him.  There were external characteristics he had, which I could easily recognize and associate with difficulties in our marriage.  But God is now peeling those layers back, and helping me to understand why he was that way.  This weeks class really helped me have insight into him, and the more insight I get, the more peace I have.  Its as if I'm getting little slices of closure.  There were several things which I began to really understand, and I'd like to share one of them with you.

The topic was esteeming your spouse.  The main point for the first half of class was how you can't give what you don't have.  If you don't esteem or value yourself you won't be able to give it to your spouse, and you won't receive it when your spouse gives it to you.  One of the hardest things I struggled with in  our marriage was his inability to give and receive love.  It took me years to accurately identify it.  It was extremely frustrating.  I would tell him what an amazing business man he was, or how smart he was, or how I admired him for working so hard for our family.  And he would literally reject it.  It wasn't a fake, "no I'm not" to encourage me to say more.  It was much deeper.  He would feel that I was being condescending to him.  He couldn't receive the sincerity of what I was telling him.  And tonight I understood finally why.  He didn't see it.  

He was surrounded by hurt his whole life that when genuine (me) came along he didn't understand it.  Its sad that he never saw himself the way I did.  In one of our last good conversations I told him that.  I told him that even though I believed in him, it wasn't enough.  That he needed to believe in himself.  Despite the best counseling, and the availability of God's love, he never overcame that negative self opinion.  And it is what destroyed him in the end.  But here's the healing or closure I received tonight: My husband wasn't rejecting me when I'd esteem and honor him, he was rejecting himself.  I also had a fresh reminder that yes my husband did love me.  He just wasn't able to express it to me because he didn't love himself.  You can't give what you yourself don't have.

There is also the healing God is bringing by confirming my actions.  I am not perfect, nor was I a perfect wife.  But I always tried my best.  I was teachable, and would always adjust myself for his needs.  In our difficult times, I did all I could to try to make it work.  I followed the strategies given by our counselor, I listened to what my husband needed of me, and I gave grace, grace, and more grace.  I gave second chances. I gave forgiveness.  I let go of my offenses.  I closed the door on the past and I gave our marriage a new start.  But in the end it didn't save our marriage.  We had a little over a year where it seemed like we had made it.  However, the months before he died our marriage literally was falling apart.   He fell back into some of the destructive behaviors he struggled with, some to my knowledge and some I wasn't aware of.  Then he died.  Had he not, our marriage would have ultimately failed, he just died before it officially could.  

But by sitting in this marriage class, each week God reaffirms me.  As the material is taught I am reminded that I did these things!  I fulfilled my role as wife, with a pure and loving heart.  I did what God expects a wife to do.  I did it in the good times.  I did it in the bad times.  I did it in the really, really bad times.  And I did it when he died.  It wasn't dependent on Jonathan's behaviors, it was dependent on the fact that he was my husband and for that reason alone he deserved it.  It wasn't easy, but I did it!  And God is pleased with me for always honoring my husband.

As I sit in this marriage class I'm being healed.  God is confirming to me that I did all He expected of me as Jonathan's wife, and that I did it well.  I'm grateful for God reminding me I was a good wife.  I'm receiving His pleasure in me, and it heals my heart.  He's helping me to understand the deep inner workings of my late husband, and it frees me.  It releases me from hurt, from questions, and from blame.  It reassures me that he did love me.  So while this may be the most awkward time ever to take a marriage class, I'm so glad I am.

Changed

There is something about experiencing a tragedy that changes you.  Its not necessarily a bad change, but its change nonetheless.  I have experienced two major "moments" in life which caused a season of rediscovery:  realizing who I am, what I enjoy, and why I believe what I believe.  Those two events were the major shake-up in the foundation of my marriage, and 2  years later the loss of my husband.


The change happens differently for each person.  It could be a change in your physical appearance, your style, your hobbies, how you spend your time, even your beliefs.   When we encounter tragedy our life changes in such ways that certain pieces no longer fit in our new lives.


I've felt this very recently as I've been beginning to make new friends. People will ask me what I like to do for fun.  And I sit there and have to really think about that.  That is not a normal response.  I'm sure when I mentioned that question you immediately had 3-4 past-times hit your brain, automatically without the need to think about it.  But not me.  See 2 years ago, had I been asked that question I would have said: scrapbooking, boating, taking walks as a family, and trips to the west side of the state.  All those activities were things I enjoyed, and most of them were done with my husband.  But today none of those activities are things that I do.  It doesn't mean I no longer enjoy them, because I would.  But they do not fit into my new life.  


Scrapbooking was my passion for 10 years.  But now, I simply don't have the time, the energy or the emotional determination to plan and craft a detailed scrapbook page.  I have no interest in it whatsoever.  As for boating, traveling to the west side of the state, and family walks, well... those were things Jonathan loved and enjoyed, and I don't find the same satisfaction in them I once did.  Really they were his interests which became our activities.

With the lose of a spouse, or even the lose of a marriage to divorce, there is an additional death which occurs.  Part of you dies with them.  And what is left is different.  You will never be that same person that you once were.  That life you had is over and done.  But the part of you that dies, leaves room for new life to spring forth.  Your life changes, and again, it isn't always for the worst.  "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives." John 12:24 (NLT)  


When that seed of our old life dies, what springs forth is a fresh new opportunity.  There are so many wonderful things I am doing right now that I would never have experienced had my husband not passed away.  First of all, I am running his business, and I am loving it! I can't describe the passion that is building in me for this company, and primarily the staff that works in it.  I am constantly challenged and am honored to lead some of the most dedicated and driven men.  I get to support them as they succeed and its so rewarding.  I have also started running, which if you follow my posts you know the amazing healing impact it has had on my life.  I'm in the best physical shape of my life, I'm losing weight, and I'm accomplishing difficult goals.  Finally, I'm blogging.  I am not a writer by nature.  I've never enjoyed writing or been particularly good at it.  But blogging creates such an amazing platform for healing.  Not only my personal healing, but to use my life as an inspiration to others. My heart is to become active in God's calling for my life: to reach women and I recognize that this blog is already touching women I don't even know, and may never meet.

When Jonathan died, a part of my life died with him.  The woman I was on November 24, 2010 is not the same woman I am today.  My old life was buried with him, and everyday I am discovering new trails along the "new life" path.  Its confusing, its exciting, its refreshing.  I'm rediscovering "Jenn":  Who I am, what I enjoy, and what God wants to do in and through me.  I'm not sad for the part of me that has died and been sown into the ground, because I know it will bring forth something great! Sometimes you lose a part of who you were, to make room for who you will become!  I'm not afraid for the future.  For I know God has promised to take me from glory to glory!  He has said that no matter how wonderful my yesterdays were, my tomorrows are going to be even more amazing!

The Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon

This weekend was the most amazing weekend of my life! It all started about 2 months ago with an invitation to run a half marathon in San Antonio with Dave Ramsey and his team.  When I got the email something in me stirred.  Even though I just began running I had this pull... and when I saw the date was 12 days before the one year anniversary of my husband's death, the pull became stronger.  I thought, I've just walked through one of life's hardest experiences and how awesome would it be to do something so amazing within the first year?  Yes I need to do this! I need to run a half marathon before the one year mark.  While many people do things like this in some one's memory, for me it was quite different.  I had to do this for me.  I had to show myself that I can make it through difficult situations. (For more on why I ran the half marathon see the post "I have to do this" from October.)

So I started training, 8 weeks ahead of time.  At the 4 week mark I realized it would be a poor financial decision to fly to Texas to run the half marathon.  I resolved that I couldn't go.  The disappointment was overwhelming, but I pressed through, deciding to keep training anyway.  I specifically remember where I was on the trail on my 6 mile run when I decided I have to do this.  And I started praying for God to make a way.  The following week I found a closer race that fit my "deadline", the Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon.  It was a lengthy drive, but close enough to make it fit the budget.  So I cut another week off the training plan, and committed.

About 2 weeks before the race I started asking some girl friends to come along.  Each one I asked wasn't able to.  It was then I had this gut feeling the that I was supposed to do it alone.  I continued to ask friend after friend, and each time they couldn't go, I knew in my heart that's how it was supposed to be. For some reason God was telling me, through the "No's" and in my heart, "go it alone girl!"  So that's exactly what I did.  Now let me preface this by saying I was married for almost 9 years.  My husband was an organizer, a planner, and took really good care of me.  I always felt safe when he was there.  When we went somewhere, he drove.  He made hotel reservations, printed maps, etc.  So for almost a decade I'd followed his lead.  So driving 6 hours to a new city, staying overnight in a hotel, running a half marathon and driving home the same day, was a pretty new experience for me!

Friday I arrived in Indianapolis and I walked from the hotel, several blocks, to the expo for check in.  I had no idea where I was, and little idea where I was going.  I was all alone, a young woman, on the streets of this strange downtown city.  Not at all a scene I've lived out before.  On my way back, as I looked up at the high rise buildings, my head held high, heels clicking on the side walk, I smiled with such a confidence and satisfaction.  At that moment I thought, look at me... I'm alone, I'm comfortable, I'm content, and I'm "making it happen" (as Jonathan would have said).  A new level of independent confidence hit me.  I was having a great time, and I was all alone.  For a social person this sounds like an oxymoron.  But it was true.  The whole day I had accomplished some pretty significant tasks, and the race hadn't even started yet.

Fast forward to the next morning- 36 degrees, or so, at the start line, I'm standing there ready to go.  An excitement fills my heart that I can't explain.  I've worked hard, I've committed, I've trained.  And now I'm ready.  Let's get this party started!

My first goal was to finish under 3 hours, that's 13.1 miles running at a pace of 13:44.  I knew I could comfortably run faster than that pace, but hadn't run past 9 miles... ever! So I decided to run at 13:30 for my pace, because I knew I could do it very comfortably.  Then if I had extra energy I would speed up at the end.  My second goal was to finish... and finish without walking.  One thing I learned during my training was if I paced myself right, and could breathe comfortably I really can go the distance.  I think endurance is my strength.  I'm not the fastest runner out there, but the tortoise wins the race, right?

It took 6 minutes after the gun went off for me to reach the start line.  Apparently 10,000+ people were running the race, so it took some time.  I set my pace, breathing comfortable, and started off.  It was a little cold, but made for perfect running weather.  In the first 1/3 of the race, I continued at a steady pace, as person after person made their way past me. I wasn't worried because I knew I had to maintain for 13.1 miles.

I stayed steady, talked to a few random people along the way, and had a smile on my face when I thought about what I was doing.  I made sure to take it all in.  Turning my music down for all the water stations, or entertainment, reading every sign, and thanking officers stopping traffic.  I read many great t-shirt backs along the way, and enjoyed the cheering crowds, along the way.  I had enough energy to talk, smile, and shout along the way.  I gave high fives to teens at the water stations, while Eye of the Tiger, or Rocky's theme song played in the back ground.

Towards the end of the race, I was still comfortable and steady with my pace.  At this point I began passing people, those who had slowed down or were walking.  When the last mile hit my legs were tired.  I could feel a dull pain starting in my thighs.  One more mile... I can make it.  No walking, just keep going. Then I got a text from my BFF, perfect timing.  Between that and the cheering crowds I was able to push through, and I crossed the finish line at 2:48:55.

The moment my foot crossed, and I started to walk, a flood of emotion hit me.  I can't put into words what I felt, it definitely wasn't sadness.  It was as if all I had been through the past few years, had just been washed over by what I had done in the last 3 hours.  Like the tide coming in, pushing over the sand castles of yesterday, and leaving a fresh beach ready for a new day.  And I started to cry.  Not a single tear, no this was a face contorted, serious cry.  I wasn't expecting this response.  It was the joy of knowing I had done it! I had taken what was horrible and let it fuel me to do something amazing.  I DID IT!!!  The only problem with this emotional outburst was I couldn't breathe.  I had been breathing just fine the whole race, but the moment I started to cry, my breath was taken away.  I managed to stop crying, and regained my breath.  Once again taking it all in.

There I stood in the middle of thousands of people, medal around my neck, a half-marathoner! It was the most amazing moment of my life.  I felt so accomplished, so proud of myself for completing this race!  I had never felt that way about myself or any accomplishment, ever!  And even though I was there alone, I didn't at all feel like I missed out.  I believe I was supposed to be alone.  God needed to show me something about myself that I have been struggling with for almost a year now: All I need is God!

I've said it a million times, I got a tattoo to symbolize it, and I wear rings to remind me.  But it wasn't until I traveled to Indianapolis and ran the Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon that I truly understood and believed it.  Jesus is all I need!  I don't need a man to believe in me for me to accomplish great things.  I don't need his support, or encouragement to push through when it gets hard.  Every part of this half marathon journey has been on my own: just me and God.  From the training, to the trip, to the race; He's been the only one there with me.  And I did it!  He really is all I need.  With God I can do anything!  I can do great things by myself.  And even more than that I can enjoy them.

This weekend I had the most amazing time of my life, and no one was there to celebrate it with me.  And that's okay.  Its actually more than okay- it was perfect.  I did this race for me.  And I know that it changed my life.  It gave me a level of contentment I don't think I have ever had. It proved to me that I am a survivor- more than a conqueror!  I'm really am alright, just me and God!