Pile of Rocks

All through out the Bible God was encouraging His people to make memorials.  The purpose of the memorial was to remember.  Sometimes it was to be a way to remember a victory, or a miracle which occurred.  Other times He wanted them to remember a significant life changing event, and the longer we live we realize those events are not always pleasant.  When the Israelites crossed the Jordan to enter into the promised land, God said, go into the river, and one man from each tribe take out a stone.  Set those stones along the banks as a remembrance for you and your children to remember what God has done.

Remembering is a healthy part of life.  In modern days we continue this tradition, however our pile of rocks looks much different.  We hold on to pictures, videos, and programs.  With the loss I have experienced over the last few years, of my father in 2009, my husband in 2010, and my closest sister in 2011, I have made many of my own piles of rocks.  I try to pick something very meaningful as my "rock", something that was of great importance or significance in my loved ones life.

For my father it was some of his books.  My dad loved to read.  His grave stone reads "He found comfort in the written word", and to have kept the book he toted back and forth to chemo during those 9 months holds multiple layers of meaning.  His notes are still stuffed inside, along with pictures of his grand kids which he wanted during his hospital stays.  Although I will never read this book, it reminds me of my dad's wisdom and intellect.  His love of learning, which was a thrust no amount of books could ever quench.

For my late husband, the rocks are the two most important things he had: his business and his children.  I am the new leader of the business he successfully built.  It was his baby.  He ate, slept, and breathed it.  It was his source of satisfaction and accomplishment.  It also was the biggest burden and stress he knew.  Several months back I was wishing I had something more meaningful of his, a shirt or his bible.  But I quickly realized that having the business was the most meaningful thing I could have.  And keeping it growing and successful keeps his spirit alive.  I also have two beautiful children of his. So many times I am reminded of him when I am with them.  Whether it be looking down at my daughter and seeing his arm instead of hers, or hearing my son talk about things his dad would have found funny, his memory is alive in the next generation.

The rocks of remembrance for my sister are different.  While I do have a few tangible items: her baby doll from childhood, her favorite movie Beauty and the Beast, and a bear made from her clothing, the most important things which remind me of my sister are hidden in my heart, and shown in the compassionate woman I am today.  My sister was mentally impaired and we had a close and unique relationship.  Growing up with a special needs sibling forms who you are.  It teaches you to have compassion, to never fear those who are different, and to love the simple things.  My sister taught me these.  Today I remember her, and created a symbol which I can look at, my own pile of rocks, to remind me of the amazing sister I was honored to have.

God had a reason He encouraged us to remember.  There was a reason we need a visual reminder, a pile of rocks.  In my own journey of life, through trials and grief, these rocks have been my strength, my fond memories, and my tears.  The rocks won't let me forget where I came from, what I have gone through and why I am the woman of strength and character you see today.  I don't want to forget the people in my life. I don't want to forget the grace of God.  I don't want to forget.  So I build a pile of rocks, on the banks of my life so my children and I will remember.

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!

Guilt

I'm noticing a pattern among people who experience loss.  It's guilt.  It doesn't really matter what the circumstances are surrounding the death, someone, or several people even, take on guilt and responsibility as if it was their own fault, or they could have prevented it.  From the outside its clear to see that the guilt is unnatural, and the person who carries it really couldn't have stopped the loss from happening, or had little to no role in its final outcome.  Yet I continue to witness innocent people carrying the heavy weight of guilt surrounding a loved one's death.

The first time I took notice of it was in my mom.  After we lost my sister my mother would talk about how she feels guilty about her death.  She would make statements such as "if we wouldn't have gone out of town", and I could see her continually blaming herself for a situation that she had absolutely no control over.  My sister had a seizure, didn't recover normally, and the EMT put her on a respirator.  That respirator caused her to develop pneumonia, and she eventually had to be taken off the respirator.  It was a horrible series of events which lead to her leaving this earth long before any of us were ready to let her go.  But in all honesty my mom was in no way to blame.  She had done nothing wrong, and living her life to go visit her newborn grandson is certainly not a mistake which she made.

Now I sit here thinking about my own father, who died of lung cancer.  Yes I too had an element of guilt related to his death.  I was my dad's caregiver, and a few weeks before he died I went on a weekend trip.  Before the trip my dad was independent, sharp, and doing very well.  However when I returned he seemed frail, and a bit more blurry.  The decline he made over the 4 days I was gone was noticeable. It was what appeared to be the beginning of the end.  In 3 weeks time he passed away.  On several occasions I felt myself regretting that trip, or feeling selfish for going away with my husband for business. Guilt knocked on my door, and I opened up and let it in.

With the passing of my late husband I am pleased to say I have never opened the door when guilt came knocking. I had excellent counseling through our tough times which taught me that I am only responsible for my own actions. I am not responsible for someone else's response to them.  I knew I had heard from God to take the steps I had taken, and when he died I was able to say I do not blame myself.  But many people I greeted in the funeral home had the guilt.  Even to this day I have discussions with people who loved and cared about them and can see the guilt they carry.  "If only I had known, I could have helped.  He would have listened to me." "I was gonna talk to him about his problems, if I had maybe it would have made a difference."  From the outside I see the heavy weight they carry, and although I have reassured them that it would not have made a difference, that people who knew were helping him and it wasn't enough, they continue to carry it.

God is not a God of death, nor a God of guilt.  There is another spiritual force at work in our world, and he is the one that brings death.  Yet I can see him at work, causing innocent  mourners to carry the guilt of a death they had nothing to do with.  John 10:10 says "the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy, but I [Jesus] have come that you might have life."  Guilt is part of the thief's plan.  He steals, he kills, and then he continues... to destroy.  The guilt will destroy you.

If you are carrying guilt over the loss of a loved one, please hear me.  It is not your fault.  Don't carry the weight any longer. Put the blame back where it belongs: the cancer, the accident (which is just that an accident), sickness or even the enemy of our souls.  You will heal much quicker and faster when you let go of what you could not change and are not responsible for.  Father, In Jesus' name release these mourners who suffer with guilt.  Help them to see the situation as you see it.  Set them free from guilt and blame.  Renew their mind with the truth of your Word and set them free from the guilt.  Give them your peace, comfort them as they mourn, give them the oil of joy, and remove a spirit of heaviness. In Jesus' name, Amen.

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

I Never Thought

I would have to say with out a doubt the hardest part of my widowhood is single parenting.  I have a wonderful little almost 4 year old boy.  He is cute, adorable, full of love, but every ounce of age 4 and boy!  While he is my greatest joy, he is also my greatest challenge.

One of the biggest struggles I have had in parenting this past year is understanding the balance between correction and grace.  See I am a person who does everything by the book.  Every action has a clear cut response.  There is a proper way to handle situations.  This was how I parented up until Nov. 24, 2010.  But on that day when "daddy" died, the rule book changed.  All of a sudden there is no magical formula.  The boy who once would lay in bed for over an hour and fall asleep on his own disappeared.  The solutions I once had to solve his behaviors no longer work.  Everyone has their opinions and their advice, a rule book of their own.  But what they don't understand is the rule book doesn't work anymore.  What worked last week, may not work tonight.

Then add in grief.  I'm a healthy adult. I have a strong relationship with the Lord.  I have even gone through some counseling.  Yet I am still grieving.  I am still processing. I am still healing.  With all the coping mechanisms I have in place, I still get overwhelmed, overloaded, and my emotional capacity reduced.  Now picture a 4 year old:  no coping skills, no counseling, no processing, no relationship with the Lord.  No wonder he acts out from time to time.  No wonder he runs and hides.  No wonder he doesn't want to be alone in bed.

Here comes the balance.  How do I know if my son's behaviors are acting out in defiance, or acting out in grief?  And how do I respond?  I want to comfort grief, and discipline defiance, but the lines are not that clear.  There really is no way for me to know.  So I trust in God to lead me.  His Spirit inside of me, guides me when to be gentle and when to be firm.  I'm not saying I always get it right, because I don't.  But I am in a process, and I feel the longer I walk in it, the better at parenting this grieving boy I become.

I never thought I would lay in bed with my son at night to help him fall asleep... but I do.  I never thought I would let him crawl in bed with me in the middle of the night each night... but he does.  I never thought I would be that mom who counts to 3 to get her son to listen... but it works.  I never thought I would be that mom who puts that cute puppy back pack on her son while on a trip.... you know the one with the really long tail that just happens to have a handle?  My heart is to take the best care of my son, and if it means throwing out the rule book, looking away from other's opinions and judgements, and letting that still small voice of God lead me in handling my son, I will do it.

Shaken

Like me, I am sure you can pinpoint the exact moment your world came crashing down.  For me it happened long before that unforgettable call from the hospital.  Its been almost 3 years now, and I have as many questions today as I did then.  Why did this happen? Did I miss God? Would I do it different if I could? Why me? What if, what if, what if?  The reality is my world was shaken. 


Through it all: all my questions, my doubts, my heart break, I've known that God is faithful.  And I've understood that the more I lean on Him, the better off I will be.  Proverbs 18:10, says "The name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and are safe."  I need that tower.  I need that protection.  I need that stability.  I need to know that even though almost every part of my life has changed in the blink of an eye, God doesn't.  He won't.


When we put our complete and total trust in Him, we can walk through hard times, desperate times, broken times, knowing that He is our shelter.  


“Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock. But everyone who hears these sayings of Mine, and does not do them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it fell. And great was its fall.”  Matthew 7:24-27

I love this parable, because of what it says to me! See, the storm came to both people.  Just because we are facing a hard situation doesn't mean we made a mistake, we missed God, or we are in sin.  Sometimes its just life.  The storm hit both the people who did God's word, and those who didn't.  As Christians we need to stop placing blame, or searching for why this happened.  Storms come, welcome to a fallen world! But thank God we can survive.  Our house, or life, can fall apart without taking us down with it.  The secret is to put our foundation, our trust, our hope in Jesus.  And to do His Word.  When He says praise Him at all times, we are building a house on the rock. When He says trust Him with all our hearts, we are building a house on the rock.


God's not moved by the storm that destroyed our house.  The rock wasn't effected.  It couldn't be swept away, and anything clinging to that rock, or finding refuge inside was protected. God knew this storm would come.  He's not surprised. He's not shaken, nor can He be.  So find refuge in Him.  Seek shelter from the rain, wind and waves, inside His wings.  

When I am in the valley of the shadow of death

You're not shaken, you're not shaken

You're right here beside me, and you have never left

You're not shaken, you're not shaken

When every little thing, that I had dreamed would be

just slips away like water through my hands

And when it seems the walls of my beliefs 

come crashing down like they're all made of sand

I won't let go of you now because I know

You're not shaken.

Your Not Shaken, Phil Stacey

Listen to the song: Your Not Shaken

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!"

Hot Mess

Hot Mess: When ones thoughts or appearance are in a state of disarray but they maintain an undeniable attractiveness or beauty. (Urban Dictionary)


Some weeks I feel like I have my act together.  I'm emotionally strong, I'm healing, I'm living life. I can handle the regular twists and turns that life brings.  I'm not moved by little annoyances, or seemingly big obstacles.  My son and I are flowing together smoothly.  I enjoy spending time with him, and I have a strength and patience in my parenting.  Life is good. 


Other weeks I'm a hot mess! I look great on the outside, but inside I'm a disaster.  There is caution tape strewn everywhere: from my parenting to my emotions.  A pot hole feels like the grand canyon. I lack motivation.  Emotionally I am a wreck.  The grief wins out.  I've been strong too long, and I seem to fall apart. I can't handle even the smallest of confrontations with my son.  Oh, and I cry at the drop of the hat.  Life sucks.

My life for the past year has been a constant interchange of these two states: Ms. Act Together and Hot Mess.  Its confusing.  Its frustrating.  I feel like just when I think I'm on the mend, and can handle adding responsibilities back to my life... Hot Mess shows up.  It causes me to be hesitant.  I'm hesitant to commit myself to anything.  I may feel like I can handle it today, but who knows when Hot Mess will show up and how long she will stay.  I may not be able to keep this commitment two months from now.  So I'm afraid to even take it on.   I think, what am I doing?  Am I just not ready to take this on?


Ms. Act Together, and Hot Mess keep me guessing.  I never know who is gonna show up or when.  I feel like I have these two identities, neither of which are the real me.  It causes me to question if I'm really okay, even when I know I am.  It makes me long for the days when my life, my emotions, even the person who I am, was consistent! I told my pastor today, "I wish you knew me before this."  He lovingly and gently reminded me that God creates beautiful things out of brokenness.  Brokenness is a great place, because God Himself is recreating me.

Yes I am being recreated! No one enjoys living in a house while its being remodeled,  But when it is done, it was worth every inconvenience, every discomfort.  The house is better than it was before.  All the beauty that was originally there is added to; its enhanced.  I may be a mess right now, but I still look good to God!  He sees me finished.  And some day, you will see it too!

The Moment

I have a question for you widows who have gone before me.  At what point do I stop having the moment? You know, your thinking about life as it used to be, or you think of your husband, and the reality hits you.  He's really gone. He's not coming back.  This is real.  In that moment life stops.  And you wonder if you've been living in a nightmare.  Reality strikes you, and its as if you'd never thought it before.  "He is really dead."  

Its been over a year and it seems odd to keep having these moments.  I was thinking about Jonathan, and how he only lived to be 38.  What a short life. What a waste of a life that could have been.  I was equating his age at death, to my age.  I'm almost 35.  What a shame it would be to end life so young and so early.  And thats when the moment came.  Its real.  It really happened.  He died and is now in heaven. And this Christmas season my heart is sad.  I'm missing him.  I wish our life together didn't end this way.  I wish we could have experienced that happily ever after I kept hoping for.  But it didn't happen.

As much as I've been sad and missing him, I have also been so mindful of his eternal life in Heaven.  I'm so aware now, that while we aren't experiencing life with him, he isn't missing out on our lives.  He knows, he sees, he hears.  And I look forward to the day when I will be reunited with him in Heaven.  

For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. ¹⁷ Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.  1 Thessalonians 4:16-17

I find such comfort in these words.  I know that whether it be at the end of my life, or at Jesus' return that I will be with Jonathan again. 

The Roller Coaster of Grief

As I walked out of church the other night, the words "I love my life" slipped out.  I was shocked, because less than one week ago I was sobbing in my room, tears streaming, "God, I hate my life."  How do you explain that?  Can it even been explained?  All I can say is: it's normal.

There are times in life when we are going to be hurting, sad, frustrated, depressed, and overwhelmed.  Almost like a situational depression comes upon you.  It lasts for moments, or a just a few days, and as quickly as it came, it leaves. 

Last week I had about 3 days of depression. We had just come home from our wonderful caribbean cruise.  I was exhausted.  My 3 year old was exhausted.  And we were both out of routine. What followed was several very difficult days.  Getting myself back in routine is one thing, but getting my son back is a whole different ball game.  After spending one full week sleeping in the same room with me, bedtime at home was now destroyed.  He wanted to sleep with me of course. And so begins the bedtime struggle.  We've had it over and over since his daddy died.

Thankfully, God continued to speak to me and encourage me, and the "down in the dumps" only lasted a few days.  I reached out to a few friends, and it helped!  Now this week, although I'm still fighting exhaustion, as we continue to work out the bed time issue, I am enjoying life again. I love my life!

As widows, we need to recognize that we are going to have these peaks and valleys.  Its normal!  We need to recognize that  there are wonderful things in our lives that can cause us to enjoy life despite our hurt and pain.  At the same time, we are constantly facing challenges, situations, and working through our grief.  We need to let ourself go through the cycles, and reach out for support from friends.  That said, we don't need to "feed" the down cycles either.  I personally feel that while the cycles are normal, we should be working through the days of depression, and not helping ourselves to get deeper into them.

When I feel the days of depression, I allow myself to cry.  I cry out to God.  I cry out to Jonathan.  I will also reach out to a friend, letting them know I am having a hard time.  I don't call for a pity party, I call for help.  I call for prayer.  I call for a listening ear.  I call because I need to talk my way through what I'm feeling.  Then I get out of the house.  I go for a run.  I go shopping.  I find some type of recreation which brings joy and takes my focus off the pain.  Most importantly I go to church! I get in His presence.  I celebrate all God has done for me! I may dance, I may cry, but something about God's presence changes my situation.  And that is why one week later I can say, "I love my life!"

We are riding an emotional roller coaster called grief.  We are going to have highs and lows, but just like a roller coaster, the highest highs, and the lowest lows are at the beginning.  As the ride continues, the highs and lows begin to balance out.  Grief will bring high highs, and low lows, but keep working it out.  Keep seeking God. Keep praying.  Life will become stable again.  It just takes time!

Christmas Spirit

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" Clearly the singer of that song hadn't recently lost a loved one.  What was once my favorite holiday is now a continual reminder that I am on my own.  I love Christmas, it is my favorite season.  But since the death of my late husband, its just different.  I don't have the Christmas spirit this year and I am purposefully forcing myself into the holiday mood.

In many ways this feels like the first Christmas without Him.  Last year Christmas was 4 weeks after his death.  I was still numb, and in shock.  The holidays were at best an after thought.  We made it through, but it wasn't at all a normal holiday season.  One tree, no decorations, no stockings, no nativity.  We barely had gifts and a tree.  This year is different.  This year it is a normal Christmas season. And I'm facing it on my own. It is so awkward and strange.  It feels a little more empty than I remember it, almost like I'm forgetting something, or something is missing.

He is missing. We did everything together.  We set up the tree together.  We decorated the house together.  We watched Christmas movies together.  And now I'm not wanting to do any of it because it feels strange. I know though, that it is in my best interest to take this Christmas season head on, instead of avoid it.  I'm forcing the Christmas spirit, but it needs to be done.  And the quicker I begin new traditions and find "my" way through the holidays, the better off I'll be.

Where to start?  Well, we need a tree.  A real tree was just to hard without a man around, so I ordered a fake one for the first time ever.  Tree... check!  It came, and on Saturday while my step daughter was over we decided to put it up.  Look at me, I'm making Christmas happen!  That is until I realize the tree stand that is included in the box... wasn't.  I wanted to lose it and cry.  After all, I'm really trying here and I didn't need that.  We put the tree on hold, as we wait for the tree stand to be shipped out.  And the Christmas spirit that had started to flutter through the home, escaped out the window.

What else is there? How about some Christmas songs?  Easy.  I turn on Pandora Radio.  Holiday music... check!  Big tree is a bust, but we have a little tree for the front window, let's start there.  I bought new ornaments last year, and we decided to put them on this tree.  A small way to change things up as I recreate a new norm for the holidays.  Music is playing, kids are hanging ornaments, Christmas spirit is once again stirring.  Small Tree Decorated... check.

Let's move on... the stair case! I hung lighted garland across the hallway and up the stairs.  By now I'm actually enjoying the decorating.  "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."  My son and I set out our Nativity set, which is by far my favorite Christmas decoration! I have a growing collection of Fontanini pieces, which is the nativity version of a Christmas village.  My son and I talk about each piece and their role in the Christmas story as we set them out.  We set baby Jesus behind the stable, and I tell my son that on Christmas morning, when Jesus is born, he will place Him in the manger.  The true meaning of Christmas... check!

The decorating continues with poinsettia plants on the stairs and fireplace, a tree on the landing, and trees on the front porch.  Now comes the decision.  Should I do outside lights on the bushes?  This was Jonathan's task, which I asked each year, and he hated doing.  I've never done outside lights, do I really want to take this on?  Well if I'm finding my own groove to Christmas, then there will be lights on the bushes.  And on all of them!  Glowing bushes... check!  I felt very proud and accomplished to do the outside lights. I'm making my way.  I'm surviving.  I'm independent and capable.  It actually feels pretty great.  Just some lights on the bushes, but a huge affirmation to me!

By now the Christmas spirit is flowing up and down the stairs, through every room and even found its way in my heart.  It worked!  I made the conscious choice to make my own Christmas, to find new traditions, and get excited about the season.  The emptiness is much more subtle, and I'm looking forward to Christmas.  I have set up a few Christmas events at my house right before the holiday.  Again, I know that something positive to look forward to will help ease the sting of the holiday season.

I challenge you to invite the Christmas spirit in your home.  Even you don't feel like it, just get it stirring.  Make your list, and start checking off what you need to find your new groove for the holidays.  Plan a few activities or events you never did before, and give yourself something to look forward to.  Welcome the holidays! They are coming regardless, and how you approach it determines whether you will survive or thrive!

The Reality of Heaven

As a Christian we know heaven exists. We read the accounts in the Bible describing it. And we are confident in knowing that Jesus really does go to to prepare a place for us. But it isn't until the day you lose someone you love as much as life, that it becomes a reality. 

Becoming a widow brought an entirely new perspective of eternity. The moment I walked into the hospital room and saw his lifeless body I knew the truth of our three part being: spirit, soul and body. There was his body, empty, void; a shell that once cased my husband. The actually body wasn't what I loved, it was his spirit, the real man. And that day his spirit departed. "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." (2 Corinthians 5:8) I know that heaven is a reality and my husband is there. He is not the body he left behind, he is the man, the spirit that lives forever in glory. 

Despite my knowledge of this truth, I still feel compelled to honor his body. At the funeral and visitation I couldnt stop touching him. Weird, I know. I had never touched a dead body until his. And I couldnt stop. I kept playing with his hair, holding his hands, and I kept right by His side. At the very last moment I kissed his forehead one last time. I know it's just a shell, but that shell housed the man I loved and it meant something to me. 

In my visits to the cemetery I often wonder why I'm even there, because I know that Jonathan isn't. His spirit isn't there. He's in heaven with our savior Jesus. Even so, I still go. I still visit on important occasions or when I feel the need. And I talk to him. I often wonder if God allows him to see. If God shows him the times I cry at his grave, or if God let's him hear what I'm saying. I'm not certain that He does. But there is something healing in going. There's a healing that occurs when I talk to him or when I cry.  It's my way of getting closure. His grave is a frame of reference. Someplace I can go to identify with my husband, and the loss. 

Since his death I've had moments of great accomplishment, that he never would have believed.  Oddly, if he were here, these accomplishments never would have happened. Moments like  finishing my first half marathon, or repelling down a 4 story building. I want him to see, so I ask God to open up heaven and show him.  

I know if he could see me now he'd be so proud!  Even if he never sees my victories, I ask God anyway.  Even if he never hears a word I say, I speak anyway. If he never sees a tear I cry, I cry anyway.

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!

The Different Faces of Loss

Loss has so many angles to it.  Its a complex creature.  When I buried my husband last November, a significant part of my life died.  He was not only my husband, he was my provider.  He was my friend.  He was my children's father. He was a businessman, and a boss.  He had so many different roles and I believe each one must be grieved and healed.

Mourning my protector:
I've been writing a lot lately about being alone.  I've been taking many different adventures on my own- traveling to Indianapolis for the Monumental Half Marathon, heading into downtown Detroit for  The Call, or just going out to dinner by myself.  The desire to take these risks, and the victory that comes with each feat, is proof that I have healed over the loss of my protector.  I didn't even realize he was, until I felt that void.  I needed to grieve for my protector. And now that I'm independent, I recognize that void has been healed.

Mourning my children's father:
I vividly remember one Sunday morning at church when I couldn't stop crying.  All I could think about was my son and the fact that he didn't have a dad.  That truth had been reality for well over 6 months, but that morning the reality hit me.  Grief does that.  You'll be fine for months, then out of no where you have this thought and its as if its the first time you ever had it.  "He's really gone."  Thats what happened that morning.  And I wept at the altar.  I wept for my son. I carried his loss.  And then I prayed.  I prayed for God to heal my son's heart.  That God would be the Daddy he needed until his "new daddy" came. And I prayed for that new daddy. I asked God to give me wisdom, and patience to allow the right man into my son's life.

I have mourned for him.  I have mourned my husband. I have mourned my friend. I have mourned my marriage.  I have mourned my children's father. I have mourned my protector, and my provider.  Most of all I have mourned the life that was needlessly cut short. I find great sorrow in the wasted life.  And I trust God to help me overcome that.  I know I can lay that sorrow, hurt and grief at the foot of the cross.  For he promised to turn my mourning into dancing, and my sorrow into joy! (Psalm 30:11, Jeremiah 31:13)

A Positive Focus

As most of you know, the one year anniversary of my late husband's death is quick approaching.  He died the day before Thanksgiving last year, and this year it actually falls on Thanksgiving.  I was really concerned about how hard this month was going to be, especially when the 1st of November was so tough.  But I've been doing extremely well, considering it all.  I'm not saying I haven't had moments of emotion, or that I haven't grieved, I have.  But overall I've been emotionally stable, and full of more joy than I expected.  I believe its for one reason: I have had positive things to focus on!

I thank God for getting me into running, and stirring my heart to run a half marathon before the one year mark.  It has been probably the biggest focus of my life for the past few weeks.  If you didn't read the blog "The Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon" you don't know what an amazing weekend it was, or how healing that 13.1 mile accomplishment was for me.  That race was so much more than just that weekend.  Its been a focus, something which is consuming a decent amount of time in training daily.  And even though its over, I still revel in the glory of that moment!  It has been a source of positive thoughts, positive actions, and positive emotions.

I also have my focus on working on a schedule during the day with my son, which I wrote about in "Time to Stop Reacting". This has set my mind on what we are supposed to be doing during the day: staying on a schedule, spending quality time with my son, and being proactive in completing tasks I need to complete.  I've been alert and aware of these things all through out our day.  And its been extremely rewarding.  I feel accomplished because of the amount of tasks I can check off, I'm appreciating my son more and the time we spend together. The structure has helped my son's behavior to improve dramatically, which has reduced my frustration and brought a greater satisfaction when interacting with him.


Finally another major focus of my time is the classes which I am taking for Rochester Ministry Training Institute.  I have 3 classes which require outside reading and homework.  And the content of these classes is so rich.  I'm flooding my head with new levels of understand of God, His Word, and the way ministry works.  

Since I have so many positive focuses in my life, the majority of my time is spent focused on positive: what I have, what God's showing me, and preparing for my future.  The beauty of a positive focus is that it keeps the negative thoughts away.  You can't be positive and negative at the same time.  By filling my life with things that are rewarding, valuable, exciting and positive, I am giving my emotions a heading. Much like a ship sets sail knowing what direction it needs to be going to reach its final destination, positive thoughts and activities set the course for my emotions.  


I wish I could say I was smart enough to think of this on my own and plan it on purpose.  But its God's leading that helped me to plan this month in a way that I would dictate its direction, instead of it dictating me.  I've had hard moments: moments of regret, sadness and grief.  but they have been just that: moments.  I know I'm barely half way through the month, and the anniversary date is still ahead, but I know that with the focus I've had, I will be able to handle what still awaits me.

God reminds us in Phillipians 4:8, "Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things."  And I would add, participate in these things.  For God has said that as we think, so we will become.  So if I think on positive events, instead of dwelling on and mulling over the negative one, which I can't change anyway, I will become positive.


I challenge you today, what negative event are you focusing on? Stop!  Plan some positive activities and thoughts into your life.  Your focus will shift and you will experience peace, even in the midst of challenges.

Being Real

I realized if I was going to blog my journey, and invite people into my life, I had to be real.  I couldn't just give you one side of the story.  If you were to really understand what this widow's walk is all about you have to be a part of the good and the bad times.  Because let's be honest, there are both.  And in reading my blog on Monday, and then again on Tuesday, you see what a "yo-yo" a widow's life can be.  Its up, its down, even sideways.  Every night when you go to bed the reset button is hit.  Just because yesterday was beautiful doesn't mean today will be.  And vice versa.


When yesterday's post went live, I felt the slightest tinge of regret.  I thought, "am I letting people down because I had a hard day and wrote about it?"  I know that's not the truth, but admit it. You've felt that too. You have to be strong, "they" tell us.  Why? And who is "they"?  Have "they" ever spent a day or a week in your shoes? Have "they" ever planned their husband's funeral?  Have "they" ever told their children their father died? Have "they" had to raise a child on their own? Have "they" ever had to learn to handle everything related to their home and life?  The truth is "they" don't have a clue!


I'm here to say you don't have to be strong!  You don't have to wear a smile every time you see someone, or walk into the church sanctuary.  You don't have to do everything and be everything.  It's okay to have bad days... because you are going to!  And once you accept that truth, you'll find the bad days aren't as bad, because you don't feel guilty for having them.  For a long time I had this external pressure put on me that I had to look like everything was okay, and even more I was supposed to actually be okay.   I had this pressure that I couldn't have bad days.  When some one asked me how I was doing, I felt I had to answer positively.  But it wasn't the truth.  It was a mask, a facade.  I was taught that if I showed my weakness, and hurt that I wasn't giving God glory!  So I carried around hurt and pain.  I repressed it.  I denied it.  And when it arose, I would feel guilty.  I would question myself, "Why do I feel like this? What's wrong with me?" And the only thing that came from that was an emotional breakdown.

Unfortunately as Christians we are the worst at this.  The world knows you are gonna have bad days, and they expect you to tell the world when you do.  But step inside the church, and if you don't have a plastic grin on your face, you aren't a good Christian. You are labeled as having little faith, or you are "doubting" God.  The day I stepped out of this false reality, and entered a safe place, I started healing.  I started living healing.  I have been able to be myself, and share it.  And lightening has struck me yet, for being an ungrateful child!  Rather, quite the opposite has happened.  

When I began to share my struggles, even through a simple post on Facebook, something amazing happened.  People reached out.  They encouraged me, they prayed.  I realized that plastic faces rob the body of Christ from doing what God designed it to.  When we get real, the body steps up!  And that was exactly what I needed through those difficult times.  Just as Moses needed someone to hold up his arms so  Israel would win the battle, we need others to hold us up when we get tired.  We can't do it alone.  We are going to have bad days.  We are going to get tired.  We are going to be weak.  And God's okay with it.  


2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NLT
Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. ¹⁰ That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I'm not saying, lay around and feel sorry for yourself, or indulge in a pity party.  How is God's power working through that? Its not.  But I am saying, take off the mask.  Be real.  Be real with others and be real with yourself.  Ask for help when you need it.  Let people into your world.  They don't know what you are going through, and why certain events may be hard. But tell them if your struggling.  Give yourself the freedom to feel. Its all part of the healing process.  And remember at the end of those hard days, God hits reset as you sleep.   "Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning. "  Psalm 30:5  Tomorrow could be a better day.  Tomorrow could be full of hope.  Tomorrow could be the day where he turns your mourning into dancing.