The River

My life is a river.  I stand on the edge, my toes hanging over the rushing waters.  If I stop long enough to take my focus off the rapids in front of me, and lift up my head, I see a gorgeous green meadow on the other side.  Its the future I hope for, its my own personal happy ending. I want more than anything to get there, but the way looks too hard, too challenging, and a bit scary.  I look around for another way.  There has got to be an easier way, perhaps a bridge which will carry me over the troubled waters. But there isn't.  There is only one path to the other side... through the river.

So I step out, one small step into the edge of the river, and a hand reaches out to me.  Its Jesus.  I was too focused on the challenges ahead that I didn't even see Him standing in the rough waters, stable and steady.  He was waiting, ready to help me walk across.  With His hand in mine I find the courage to take a step. One step at a time I begin my journey to the other side. I slip, I stumble, I get pushed around by the crashing of the waves.  But Jesus isn't moved.  Despite my instability, He is planted solid, like a rock. And He doesn't ever loosen His grip.  As I grab on tighter to Him, my step becomes more firm, and  begin to slip less.  He matches my efforts each step of the way.  And before I know it, we are safe on the banks of the river, no longer being threatened by the rough waters.  We have reached the other side! The meadow! My glorious future is right there before me!

It is then I notice Jesus.  One hand is still holding on to mine, but the other, oddly enough is pointing back.  Why is His attention focused back there? We just conquered together the impossible feat, the last place I want to look is back.  But there it points.  I just arrived, and can only think about relaxing in the meadow.  But His hand points back. And His gaze is intense.  As I look into His eyes I see a sadness I hadn't noticed before.  Just then a tear rolls down His face.  At that moment I muster the courage to look back, for I must know what it is that has moved Jesus to compassion, when it seems we should be celebrating.  I turn my head, and at that moment I am captured with that same compassion He has.  For at the edge of the banks stands a woman, toes hanging over the edge, scared of whats ahead.  She's doing the same thing I was.  Her eyes roam the banks, looking for another way, an easier path.  And the more she looks, the faster tears stream down her face.  I can see it on her face the moment she realizes the only way to the meadow is through the river.

Jesus looks at me, still holding my hand, with a question in his eyes.  He doesn't say a word.  He doesn't have to.  I know exactly what He is thinking.  "So, what are you gonna do?"  I know Jesus won't let go of my hand and go back, so He waits on me.  He will only go where I go.  I look up at the beautiful meadow, the sun shining down on the trees, the flowers in bloom, its seems to be calling my name.  Then I look back at the woman.  I see the clouds above her, I hear the rapids in the river crashing on the rocks.  I remember how hard it was to cross that river.  I remember how Jesus helped me each step, and if I had to have done it alone I may not have made it.  I begin to think about turning back, not for ever, but just for now.  The meadow will be there, and maybe I would enjoy it more if I wasn't alone.  But what about the river? The current, the rocks, the sudden dips in the river bed.  Could I navigate that again?  Seeing the look in the woman's eyes, as fearful as mine were a short time ago, made me realize that I must.  I must go back and help her.

I slowly make my way across the river, and as I head over to help the woman in my shoes, I notice I'm slipping less, my feet are more sure.  As I begin to pay better attention to the dips in the river bed, and where the rocks are, my walk gets easier.  Jesus, still along side me, looks at me with a warm smile.  We reach the edge and we wait.  My eyes are on the woman, but she doesn't see me.  She's too scared to notice. Tears are flowing down her face, and falling right at my feet in the river.  I just wait.  Just as Jesus waited for me. Then she does it.  She steps in the river.  All of a sudden she sees me standing there. Through her tears I can see her relief.  She's still scared, but knowing she doesn't have to go it alone, she grabs my hand.  She looks in my eyes as I softly whisper, "you will get through this.  It may be hard, it may hurt, but you won't be going it alone. I've walked this path you are walking.  Are you ready?"  She nods at me, tears still flowing, and takes the first step.

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.

Inspiration

I hear it over and over: Jenn, you are an inspiration.  On the surface its a really amazing statement to have said about you, that's for sure.  But underneath there is a longing in my heart.  I don't want to be anyone's inspiration.  I just want to be a normal girl, with a normal life.  I would much rather have a happy ending then have lived through the hell I have and be an inspiration.  However that isn't a choice I have had.

Don't get me wrong, its not that I don't want to tell my story and encourage others, because I do.  It's not that I don't want to be used by God, because I want that more than anything else.  It just seems the price I paid to inspire others was more costly than I would have liked.  I think any woman would chose a seemingly blessed and peaceful life and be off the radar, than to live through the horrible situations I have, and receive people's admiration.

The pain and the hurt, however, was my path.  And since I have walked it, I am glad my story inspires you.  Maybe you find strength to walk out your own widowhood.  Perhaps you are a woman who has experienced a different type of loss or pain, and find my life an inspiration to start blogging your story.  You could even be a woman whose life in general is neat and orderly without significant drama and pain, and my story inspires you about God's faithfulness even when things are hard.  I appreciate that opportunity to impact your life, and don't take it lightly.

Truly though, I am no one special. I am just a woman who loves Jesus.  A woman who found herself in the most painful challenges in which a wife could be.  I'm just a girl who learned how to trust God to carry her through the small trials, so when the big ones came I knew the source to get me through.  I'm an empty vessel who lets God move through her to touch the world.  So when people say I'm an inspiration, I'm grateful, but I'm humbled.  Its not me that you see.  It's my faith, my Jesus who promised me "all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose," Romans 8:28.

Challenges

I've been around a lot of women lately who are struggling. They are struggling with their marriage, they are struggling with their separations, they are struggling with their coping mechanisms.  Different paths, different situations, yet all are struggling.


As I was running last week I had this realization: Every path has its own challenges.  I have 3 different paths that I choose for my runs.  The first has has hills and horrible wind for the first mile.  The second path has some hills, isn't well kept leaving ice on the path, and is a little shorter than what I desire.  The third path is a flat trail, that just keeps going for about 16 miles.  I choose my path based on the weather, and the length I'm desiring to run.  So last week when I ran 9 miles, I chose the flat path.  I knew it would cover the distance I needed, and because it was flat I figured it would be easier.  That was when I realized this life lesson.  This flat path did have challenges.  They were different challenges than the wind, or the hills, but a challenge none the less.  I was running straight, down a trail, no curves, little change in scenery, just flat and straight for 9 miles! It was long, and it just kept going, and going.  It was a mentally challenging path.

What a powerful analogy for life.  Every path has its challenges.  We so often think, if this one area would change, if this path didn't have the hills, it would be so much easier.  Until we get on that path just to realize, it may not have hills, but its covered with ice.  My previous pastor always said, "the grass may be greener on the other side, but it still has to be mowed." 


So I challenge you today: whatever situation you are facing, whatever your path, your struggles, don't put your solution in changing paths.  Because I promise you the challenges will be there.  They will just be different.  If you are struggling in your marriage, and you think leaving is the answer to happiness, be warned, every path has its challenges.  The single path is not necessarily easier- it just has different challenges.  If you are struggling with being a single mom, and you think finding that special man will take your problems away, be warned, every path has its challenges.  

Challenges are just part of life.  They build character.  They make us stronger.  I would not be the powerful, confident woman of God I am today if it weren't for the challenges in my life.  So as you make your decisions, as you face your struggles, remember what Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) You will not be able avoid challenges, and if you change paths just to do so you find yourself frustrated and confused.  Rather seek Jesus in those times of trouble.  He has overcome them and will lead you to overcome them as well!

I am Free!

"I'm free to run! 

I'm free to dance!

I'm free to live for you!

I am free!"

We sang this song at church yesterday morning and it is by far my favorite praise song.  When I sing those words, the reality of their truth in my life causes me to worship with such an extravagant joy.  One year ago I couldn't say that I was free.  And I hadn't been free for some time.  I had lived in a the midst of bondage, but I wasn't the one bound.  I was encompassed by darkness, even though I am the light.

I didn't realize how oppressed I was until I experience the freedom.  When I returned home after burying my husband the atmosphere in my home felt different.  It was lighter, it was thinner.  When I prayed, I connected with God in a way I longed to.  When I read the Bible I received amazing understanding, as if Jesus himself was talking on the phone with me.  And that struggle I had felt to maintain a deep prayer life and intimate connection with God was gone.  Prayer was easy.  Being diligent to read the Word was easy.  Worshipping was easy.

What happened?  I was under my husband's covering.  And because of the struggles he had, I was effected.  He brought a spiritual oppression into our home.  He was bound in chains of addiction, hate, and self-destruction.  And its presence in our home brought a spiritual resistance to my walk. Even though I was faithful to follow God, and continued walking in His ways, and seeking Him daily, it was a constant struggle.  It was never easy.  And I never gave up.

I didn't understand why my walk was so hard.  I always wondered what was wrong with me.  But it wasn't until after my late husband died, that I understood.  That oppression dissipated.  It left.  The freedom was indescribable and it was only after time that God revealed to me why I experienced the oppression and then the freedom.

So when I sing, "I'm free to run. I'm free to dance. I'm free to live for you. I am free!" This is what I think of.  I think how I was once bound even in my own home.  I reflect on how I wasn't free to dance before God.  I wasn't free to live for God.  I was facing a resistance in the spiritual realm.  And I was limited by my late husband's attitudes.  I couldn't dance.  I couldn't live for God the way I wanted to.

"But if the son has set you free, you are free indeed!"  I have been set free from the oppression. I'm free to live my life for God.  I'm free to worship Him as I feel necessary.  I'm free to fulfill my calling.  I am free!

View the video for ""I am Free, by the Newsboys"

When the day comes

Everyone one of us will encounter one of those days. Its the kind of day that shapes your life, you remember the most odd details from that day.  I remember where I was when the space shuttle challenger blew up.  I remember what I was doing, what I was wearing, and who first told me about the attack on the Twin Towers.  From my own personal life I also have a vivid recall of the blue shiny jammies I wore at age 5 when my dad moved out.  I clearly remember the date 1/26/09, the day my whole life as it was started crumbling.  And on 11/24/2010 when I got "the call" at 5:15 in the morning that my husband had an accident and was in the ER.  Its days like that which impact your life in such tremendous ways.  You almost never see them coming, and it seems as though there is no time to prepare.

One of the great lessons God showed me this weekend was the importance of training.  Come along on a journey with me, and you'll see how it all fits together to those days described above.  I had a "big day" this past weekend, it was the day I ran my first half marathon.  Thats 13.1 miles for you non-runners.  I'd say that's a major life shaping event which I will never forget.  But it didn't start on Saturday.  It started 2 months prior, when I went out and took my first run in preparation.  I was preparing for the big day- even though I didn't even know when or where I was racing.  I went out for 3 strengthening runs each week, starting at 3 miles and increasing up to 5 miles.  I even worked harder by taking my son along with me in the jogging stroller.  During these runs I built capacity, strength, and determination.  Every Saturday I went out for a long run, starting at 4 miles and ending at 9.  I built endurance, I saw my speed increase without effort, I learned to encourage myself when I got tired, I broke every personal record, and I built my ability with a few hills.

This training period lasted for 7 weeks.  It slowly built up my body and muscles to handle a 13.1 mile run.  It got my heart in shape, where I could run over 2 hours, and not lose my breath.  It helped me build confidence and more importantly endurance.  I learned how to work with my body to go the distance.  I was able to try out different methods: pacing, what to eat, what to drink, etc.  When race day came, I was ready.  I was confident.  I knew I was prepared, and that I was going to cross that finish line.  I knew my running well enough that I was able to set and meet a reasonable goal of under 3 hours.

As I ran, I knew the impact my training had on me.  When I passed the 9 mile marker, and I wasn't out of breath or even remotely tired, I knew it was the training kicking it.  When other people started slowing down, and taking more walk breaks, I kept going steady as can be.  I actually had a slightly faster pace the last half of the race, than the first.  I knew when to drink and when not too.  I was completely sure I was going to make it.  And to be honest, while it wasn't "easy", its wasn't a struggle either.  Don't get me wrong, running 13.1 was hard, but because I trained for 2 months and my body was ready I never had a moment of "I can't do it", "I have to walk", or "I just wanna die!".  That didn't happen to me.  After 9 miles I started counting down miles and encouraging myself. I knew I could do it, and mentally it was a very easy sell, because of the training.

Life is exactly the same way.  Remember those days we mentioned before? We are all gonna have them.  Maybe its the day a loved one dies, or you or your spouse lose a job.  Maybe its the day that someone you love receives a horrible diagnosis, or you have a break in a close relationship.  Life is hard, and it happens to everyone.  It seems like it happens out of no where, and you feel unprepared.  But that is not the truth.

We all have a "training" season in life.  Its the good times.  Its when everything is going well.  And how we "train" determines how the event effects us.  I trained for the half marathon and when the day came I conquered.  I was a victor.  I came through it without injury or harm. I came out stronger!  Imagine if I hadn't trained, how different that day would have been.  I wouldn't have finished.  I could've been injured or even died.  I would have left feeling like a failure and a defeat.  I would have said that a half marathon is just too big of an obstacle for me.

So the day my world fell apart, when my husband confessed his secret life to me, or the day he died, I was prepared.  I had been training.  I have a personal relationship with Jesus.  Everyday I spend time with Him.  I read the Bible, I pray, and I worship Him.  Training. When I encounter challenges, even the small ones, I seek Him.  When I read the Bible, it shows me how to live, and I choose to follow those ways.  Training. I sing praise and worship songs to Him, and I thank Him for what He has done in my life.  I attend a church that teaches me how to live, and gives me a personal encounter with His presence.  Its all training.

People would tell me through the funeral process, and even now, "You are so strong".  And I respond, "I'm not.  I'm a girl who knows how to connect with God."  And its true.  Because of my "training" time, I am able to walk through this season knowing I can do it, knowing I won't fail, breathing comfortably because I've set my pace right.  I know I'll cross the finish line, and I'm counting down the miles.  I'm not in a state of despair, or  injured beyond repair.  I'm putting one foot in front of the other saying, "Go on Jenn, 3 more miles.  You can do this!"  I'm not saying its been easy and it hasn't hurt.  It has hurt, more than I hope any of you will ever experience.  But when the day came,  I was prepared.

These days, difficult life events, will come.  But its the training you do now which will determine how you come through this: victor or victim.  I've decided I'm crossing the finish line and I'm gonna receive my medal. I'm gonna let this experience make me stronger,  How about you?

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!

The Power of a Room

There is this room in my house...  For the past 11 months it has had tremendous power over me. When I walk past its open door, it always pulls a glance its way.  When I enter it, the reality of past hurts await me.  It is the room in which my husband died.

I wasn't home the night he died, and I didn't want to return home either, because he had died there.  But the fact is, I have my dream home.  Its my home, God gave it to me,  and I love it! Filled with the encouragement and support of my friends, I returned home after burying my husband.  And in a short amount of time I "got over" the fact that he died here... all except for that room.  The first time I entered it after he died, I literally spoke out loud to it.  "Room, you will not have any power over me!"  But despite my words, it did.  And it has for months.  I  got rid of all the furniture that was in there, because I thought it would help.  However, it only served to make it worse.  It became cold and sterile, like a crime scene: white walls, white carpet, no furniture, no drapes.

Last winter my best friend encouraged me, "you should do something wonderful with that room.  Make it your prayer room.  Give the devil a black eye."  I loved the idea, but resisted.  "I don't think I can be in that room, with my eyes closed...."  I told her.  It was due to the trauma I suffered at a young age which caused a fear of death. I dealt with that fear most of my life.  Although in recent years God set me free from it, I knew I couldn't possibly be comfortable in that room, not at night, not with my eyes closed.

But something amazing happened over the next few days.  As I was praying in my bedroom I had this desire to go in the room, and pray there.  So I decided to make it my prayer room.  I began praying in there last winter, and I would consistently spend my quiet time with God in there.  I loved the idea of taking what had been a symbol  of pain and a scar of my loss, and using it for something beautiful and purposeful.  All the while, there was still this uncomfortableness about it.

A few weeks ago I was starting to really struggle with grief, which I am sure is normal as I approach the one year anniversary.  As I would pray in there, my eyes would be drawn to the spot of the room where I envisioned him dying, and I'd be distracted by grief.

 I decided it was time to take this "crime scene" of a room, and physically turn it into my prayer room.  I bought some paint, a rug, and curtains.  I pulled some shelves from the basement, and went to work.  In the process of finishing this project something changed; there was a shift.  The room lost its power!  The very first morning I entered my prayer room, the joy of the Lord was waiting for me.  I had the most joyful, happy, peaceful time in prayer, that I've had in months.  I now glance down the hall, and instead of an eeriness, I'm hungry to pray.  The rooms calls to me, to come and be with my Jesus, to spend time with Him, morning, noon or night.

I absolutely love praying, worshipping, or reading my Bible in there.  It is no longer "the room", it's now truly my prayer room.  What has happened in that room no longer bothers me.  On the contrary, its very healing. There is something so beautiful about having intimate moments with my Maker, in the exact place where my husband experienced his most intimate of moments with Him- going home!  The room is a picture of my life.  God is taking something empty, barren and cold- a reflection of all my hurts and pains, and turning it into something utterly beautiful!