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

Year of Favor

To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD, 

And the day of vengeance of our God;

       To comfort all who mourn,       

 To console those who mourn in Zion,       

To give them beauty for ashes,       

The oil of joy for mourning,       

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;       

That they may be called trees of righteousness,       

The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.” Isaiah 61:2-3

2012 is upon us.  And with it comes hope.  Hope of healing, hope of a new beginning, hope of seeing God's promises fulfilled.  For the past week I've been stewing over these verses.  In 2011 I mourned.  I not only mourned the loss of my husband, but I lost my closest sister.  Yet God promises me that the acceptable year of the Lord is upon us!  Jesus declared this promise, as He quoted Isaiah 61:1-2, saying "today is this scripture fulfilled!"


So as I read this, I understand that Jesus has already made it a reality.  The acceptable year of the Lord has come for me, a mourner.  The acceptable year means the year of God's favor, desires, and plans coming to pass in my life.  I could use some of that right now, how about you?


When God singles out a particular group to give a promise too, its important.  And its exciting when I qualify for that group.  He declares that He is the comforter of those who mourn, which would be an amazing fact all on its own.  In 2011, God has brought me comfort, but as the year of His favor and desire approaches in my life, I expect to see the rest of this promise fulfilled!  To give me beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. 

 I have been walking around covered in ashes, the residue of my past covering the beauty of what lies ahead.  I have been mourning.  I've experienced bouts of situational depression, and unable to see the joy in the midst of my current situation.  And the spirit of heaviness has weighed on my heart.  I've carried worries and fears: will I ever move on, how can I raise a son alone, is there a man of God out there for me, and will my son ever know a father's love again?


But 2012 is coming! And it will be the year of God's desire and favor in my life.  His plan, His desire for me is to comfort me.  He is removing the ashes, and let the beauty of who I have become shine forth.  He is pouring the oil of joy over me, pushing away the pain of mourning and depression.  And He is taking away the heaviness of the burdens, questions and fears that I have carried, and replacing it with praise!  I can hear those thoughts, but confidently turn to God and praise Him knowing He has it all under control and is taking good care of me!

God has the best exchange policy! He does not require me to "do" anything.  I don't have to wash the ashes off, or pour joy on myself.  He takes the dirty, depressed, and discouraged, and replaces it with beauty, joy, and praise.  No questions asked. No requirements to be met.  


I'm welcoming 2012 with excitement.  This will be the acceptable year of the Lord for me.  I'm going to give Him everything and watch Him turn it around for good!

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.

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!

At All Times

I will bless the Lord at all times, His praise shall continually fill my mouth. Psalm 34:1.  In the past I read this verse and I understood it as always be praising God.  Like the old song says, "Praise Him in the morning, Praise Him in the noontime."  And I do believe it means that.  But after you've experienced a tragedy in your life: the loss of a loved one, a divorce, a betrayal, losing a job, this scripture takes on a much deeper meaning.

Praise God at all times.  Praise Him when your marriage is strong, and praise Him when its not!  Praise Him when you find out your pregnant, and when you can't conceive.  Praise Him when you can hold your husband in bed at night, and when you have to leave his body in the ground.  At every stage of life, in every situation, we are to Praise God.

Why does He want us to do that?  Doesn't He know how frustrated and angry we are when facing a tragedy?  Yes He does.  And He even understands your questioning.  But God is not the problem, He is the answer.  When we praise Him we are admitting to the fact that yes life sucks right now, but God you are bigger than this problem.  You still love me! Your love for me didn't stop the day this tragedy happened.  And you have a way to turn this around for good (Romans 8:28).  When we magnify God, He becomes bigger in our eyes, and the problem becomes smaller.  We give Him the place He deserves, Lord of our life.  When we praise Him in the good, bad, and ugly times of life, we are building our hope in an unchanging God.  He is good!  He is always good! And I trust Him.

Anyone can praise God when things are going well.  When you move into your dream house, when you get a promotion, when you meet and marry the man of your dreams.  But the true test of our faith and trust in God comes in the hardest of times.  Can you praise God when your spouse betrays you, when you live in the hell created by a loved one's addictions, and when you walk into an empty house the day of the funeral knowing you will never see his face in this world again.  Can you praise God then?  

God you are faithful! You have good plans for me!  You make me an overcomer! You are good.  God you work things out for me because I love you and am called according to your purpose.  You are my Healer.  You are healing my heart.  You are taking away this sorrow! You are my comfort!  I turn to you Father.  I know you love me! I know you love me! I know you love me!  And I love you too!

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.

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?

Broken

In my prayer time recently, I saw this picture of my heart, it was shattered into a million pieces, like broken glass.  After 11 months, its still broken.  My heart is broken from watching the man I love self destruct.  My heart is broken from the extreme situations I was in over the past few years.  My heart is broken from  burying my husband.  No one can see it.

It started with the phone call, "Your husband is in the emergency room, there has been an accident."  At that moment, the fragile glass which made up my heart, got a hairline crack.  Walking into the emergency room, and feeling all eyes on me.  A little more pressure on the crack.  And when they told me he had died... the crack started to spread.  And just like a crack in your windshield, it begins to spider.  One small crack, now resembles a web.  Multiple lines in different directions.  Still held together, but more fragile then ever.  As I walked into the room where he was laying, lifeless, touching his cold hand, saying "What did you do Jonathan?" More pressure, more cracks, this time deeper and longer.  But none of that compares to the pressure as I stood over my husband's casket, with my hand on the lid, lowering it down over the last glimpse I'll have of his face on this earth, the cracks drove so deep that my heart shattered in that instant.  No longer held together, but broken to pieces.  You couldn't see it, but that's what happened.

And since that moment my heart shattered, all I have wanted was for God to put the pieces back together.  At first I pretended it wasn't broken.  But you can't function long with a broken heart before you realize it. And once I realized it my prayer quickly became, "God, take my brokenness and make something beautiful." I've been praying this for months now.  And my desire to have my heart restored continues.  I just want to be done with this healing process.  Perhaps because its so uncomfortable, I really just want it to be over.  Maybe its because I want to feel the consistant joy of life again, that I'm trying to rush through the process.

Since that vision I saw of my heart a few days ago, God has continued to speak to me about brokenness.  He showed me that I need to stop focusing on being healed and rushing the process.  Brokenness is beautiful in God's eyes.  He uses the broken.  I need to let God do what He desires to do in me during this time and stop trying to "be done".  As I do I can see Him moving. He's been revealing my calling to ministry and drawing me to deeper levels, because of what I have walked thorough.  Because of my brokenness He can use me more powerfully.  I must truly let Him take my brokenness and make something beautiful.  I believe that beauty I'm praying for will be shown in the women's lives I touch.

There is something powerful about being broken before God.  My pastor, Richard Crisco, taught a powerful message on the power of brokenness this past Sunday. God draws near to the broken hearted.  I am sharing that podcast with you!  Whether you are a widow or not, there will likely be a time in your life when your heart will be shattered to pieces like mine.  When that happens, you are ripe for an encounter with God.  Some of the most life altering experiences with God come when we are broken before Him!

Click here to listen to Broken and Hungry, by Richard Crisco

No Thanks!

The very moment I opened my eyes, I saw it.  November 1. As I reached to turn off my alarm, my heart sank.  November.  I didn't recognize how much I have been dreading this month until it came.  For the past year the only time I've referred to November was in reference to my husband's death.  "When did he die?" November.  I've been on my own since November.  Last November he fell apart.  You get my point.  The full impact of all the statements I've made for 11 months hit me like a concrete boulder before I even got out of bed.

As I walked into work today, I was extremely aware of Jonathan.  I entered HIS office, which looks 95% the same as the last time he walked out of it.  I sat in HIS chair and I stared into the distance.  I've been operating in this office, as "mine" for 11 months.  But at this moment it didn't feel like mine at all.  Pulling out of the daze I opened the top desk drawer, "I guess its time I make this mine."  And I finally cleaned that one drawer out.  I have been operating as him for so long, that I never stopped and cleaned out his desk, his briefcase, basically anything in the office.  So I made this small step.  Then I walked into another office to file somethings and one of our managers says to me, "How are you?"  I tried to muster up strength, but he read through it.  I fell apart and said "Its November." I didn't even need to explain. He know exactly what I meant. "We all feel it" was his response.  And I know its true.  I know I'm not the only one hurting as the dreaded day approaches.

I wish I had an option.  Cause I really just wanna say "No Thanks!" Life as a widow.... no thanks!  Raising a son on my own... no thanks!  Cleaning out my husband's office... no thanks!  Facing the year anniversary... no thanks!  But I don't have that choice.  Life hasn't given me that option.

So I ask you, my friends who are sharing this journey with me, to pray for me.  Pray that God will renew my strength because some days I just wanna pass on this whole journey.  Pray for God to complete the work He has started in healing me.  Pray for God to use my life as a way to reach others for Him.  Pray for my son.  Pray that God will continue to heal his little heart.  Pray that he would not feel the enormous void in his life.  Pray that his behavior will improve, and that God will give me wisdom and patience to handle him appropriately.  Pray for my 14 year old (step) daughter.  Pray that she would have peace and understanding about why her dad is no longer here, and her heart would heal.  Pray that she would draw closer to God, and not drift away.  Pray for our family bond will stay strong.  Pray for our employees.  They loved Jonathan, as much as we did.  As one of them told me, "He was the best boss we ever had!" Pray that they will remember the good, and forget the bad.  Pray that they will keep his spirit alive in the company.  Most of all pray that this month if full of joy and peace for all of us.

Thank you for walking with me.  Thank you for praying with me.  Thank you for sharing my story.

-Jenn

Sprinting a Marathon

Have you ever set out to do something and then realize that the intensity and pace at which you are moving there is no way you will ever keep going?  That's been my life, at least the last 10 months since being a widow, single mom, and every other hat I have been thrown into wearing.  I didn't choose this life, this path, or this road, but I here I am.  And its not a 5K, its a marathon! Its long, its intense, its hard.  I find myself asking, "is this ever gonna end?"  I have moments of endurance, and moments of overwhelming desire to quit and walk away.  I already have the t-shirt from when I check in, do I really need the medal from the finish line?

As I was running today I learned a valuable life lesson; one that I hope will help me to avoid future earthquakes, and gave me a much greater understanding of myself and the process my soul is in as it heals from tragedy.  I've been running now for over 3 months, and I'm making amazing progress.  Starting at just 1 mile, I am now up to 5 miles for long runs, and 4 miles (pushing the stroller) for short runs.  Today was a scheduled easy day: 2 miles.  Piece of cake! 2 miles with the stroller is nothing compared to the distance runs I've grown accustomed to.  So I made a very well intentioned, seemingly wise decision: push myself hard on this 2 mile run!  I was not going to run the 14-15 mile pace I have been on stroller and long runs.  I am stronger than before, I've done much harder things, and I am ready! So I ran at under just under a 12 minute pace- with the stroller.  [Note: for you non-runners that means I'm running 1 mile in just under 12 minutes.]

I started off with gusto! And by .5 miles, I knew I was in trouble.  The pace was hard, strenuous, and I was already winded.  It became obvious I was not going to make it to the 2 mile mark at this pace.  Immediately I adjusted my goal- push hard to the 1 mile mark.  I'm pleased to say I did this, but I was beat. I was winded.  My legs felt like lead.  I walked for almost .2 of a mile just to recover.  When it became time to run again, my energy was spent.  I wasn't looking forward to running, and it felt physically difficult to run.  Even though I lowered my pace to around 13 minutes, I didn't have the stamina to finish the second mile.  Even with another walk break, it took everything in me to finish.

Now 2 days ago I ran 4 miles, pushing the stroller. I felt great, I could speak comfortably and could have run further.  I enjoyed that run, and felt accomplished when I was done.  But today- not so.  I did not enjoy this run.  I found it very difficult and I regretted how I approached it.  When I was done I felt beat up, sore, and a little defeated.  What happened?  I became over confident.  I felt I was ready to handle something I was not.  I pushed myself beyond my limits.  I was unrealistic in my expectations and goals.

This is a picture of my life.  I have made so much progress in my emotional healing, in adjusting to my new life, and conquering the new demands placed on me- that I go ahead and push myself just a little bit further.  And I find myself sprinting the marathon!  I have to stop running, and walk to regain my strength.  I feel defeated and weak.  My soul hurts from the extra push it has been exposed to.  And when I do gather my strength to get back up and run- its just a little further down the path that I find myself walking again.  Why? I've exerted all my emotional strength in the first mile, and have little to nothing left to finish the race.

Another life lesson learned on the trail.  As I was pushing myself to finish that last half mile run, I knew this was what I had been doing in my personal life.  Sometimes it happens intentionally, I truly think that I am ready to take on more, and then when I do I find myself out of breath and struggling just to catch it.  At other times its accidental.  I don't even realize that I've pushed myself beyond my capacity... until I can't run any further.  I stop and walk and realize what I have done.  Maybe the pace was adjusted by adding meaningful activities to my schedule, attending extra church meetings, or adding social opportunities.  It may even be necessities: working extra days, or parenting.  Other people, often well meaning, can set expectations on me that bump up the speed at which I am running.  But whatever the cause, it has pushed me to run at a pace I can't possibly maintain.  Not now. Not at this point in my training.

Being on this marathon, I've learned to watch, to be diligent, and learn to say "no."  Several months into it I felt God closing a lot of doors.  He took me out of every activity I was involved in.  He knew I had 26 miles to run, and if I kept running at the pace I was, I was going to keel over on the sidelines along the way.  I've found I have to stand up and defend my pace from time to time.  People put expectations on me that I can't possibly fulfill.  They are well intentioned but they don't understand the balance of running the "widow's marathon".   Its easy to talk and sing while walking down the street.  But while running a marathon those simple everyday tasks are much more difficult.   And they effect if I cross the finish line or not.  I try to use my life like a runner uses a running watch.  The watch tells me how far I've run, the pace I'm running at, and my heart rate.  As long as I take time to look at the watch, I will know all the information and can make the right decision.  By knowing my pace, and how far I have left to run, I can adjust myself accordingly.  I am determined to finish this race. And to finish it steady and strong!

Just Another Day

Here it is again.  Its the 24th of the month.  I anticipate its coming, and am relieved when its over.  Its a reminder, a marker, a measuring stick.  It reminds me of when I lost my husband.  It marks how long ago it was, and all the things that have happened in that time.  It measures where I am in the healing process.  And each time it comes I hope it will bother me less, I hope that I will be further along in my healing, and closer to my future.  All other days of the month pass by as normal, only moments where I reflect on my life that was and the loss I faced.  But on the 24th it changes.  On the 24th I'm focused. Its a continual reminder.  And it keeps coming... every month.  I hope that one day, the 24th will come and go without me even noticing.  That the 24th will be just another day.

Today is a reminder. 10 months ago my husband took his last breath here, and his first one in heaven.  He is whole. He is healed.  He's hanging with Jesus, with my dad, my sister and his best friend.  I don't know if there are pranks in heaven.  But if there are, my late husband and his best friend are doing them;  Sliding down the streets of gold in their socks, and asking Jesus to pull their finger.

Today is a marker.  We've made it through so much since then. I've assumed leadership in the business, and completed almost every task that needs to be done.  I've developed relationships with our employees, and vendors. And I've fallen in love with the business, something I never thought would happen.  On the home front: I've potty trained my son, and he's growing and changing so much.  He's started preschool now, and I faced parent night alone- with very few tears.  I chartered every holiday, and started creating new traditions.  Two more months to go until I have made it through the first year.  It will be a relief to have made it through every event, season and holiday alone; a bittersweet accomplishment.

Today is a measuring stick.  Where am I in my healing process? I still hurt sometimes at the loss and the waste.  I still have those breath taking moments where reality sets in that he is really gone.  I face regret that I gave things away too quick.  That I didn't keep that purple shirt of his, or that I gave his Bible away to his daughter, because now I want it. I was so confused when he left, that I thought I had to erase him and his memory from my life.  But that isn't how it should be, and I am understanding that.  I'm starting to release the hurt of the hard times, and to remember the good ones.  I've forgiven him.  And I'm not angry at him any more.  I'm healing. I cry less, and have much fewer moments of grief, such as the one I experienced last week.

I've started to move away from dealing with and feeling my personal loss, to grieving the loss of my son's father.  I noticed it for the first time two weeks ago.  I was having a moment of grief and healing, and it was so clearly about the void my son has in his life.  I prayed for my son very earnestly.  And I cried.  I cried for my son.  He needs a daddy. He wants a daddy.  And he had a good one.  There is a vacancy.  He feels it and so do I.

I'm in a place where I can honor my late husband again.  Next month our business is joining a local race, and running in his memory.  We call it "Run for the Boss".  We are honoring who he was, and donating money in his name to Teen Challenge USA.  I want his memory and legacy to be a positive one, to his children and to those in his company.

I'm comfortable talking about who he was in an honest way, and not let his weakness cancel his strengths. I'm much more aware of speaking of him in a way that is honoring, for we don't stop honoring someone just because they are dead.  I'm more and more ready to share my story, and increasingly sensitive to whom I share it with and when.  I'm ready to move on in life. I'm ready for the next chapter.  And the best part is even though I'm still on this road of healing, I can still begin a new life.  Healing is a process.  I don't have to be completely through it to start moving forward.

Liquid Prayers

You never know when its gonna hit you.  Sometimes its the most appropriate of moments: taking a final ride in the '51 Ford Pick-up Truck he rebuilt before it goes to its new home; walking into the restaurant you went to the night you were engaged; or seeing the grave marker newly installed on his grave.  Sometimes its the most random and odd things which spark it: his sit board he used as he cleaned windows on the outside of 30 story buildings; walking through the parking lot and emergency room where you went that morning when you got the call; or walking to your seat at the Christmas Eve church service.  Tears streaming down your face uncontrollably, a flood of emotions, a pinch of sadness, all in an instant...


Today it was in the middle of my Pentecostal Doctrine class.  Random.  Odd.  Almost embarrassing.  But I couldn't help it.  There I was, tears flowing uncontrollably, hoping no one would notice, but I have learned enough at this point to not fight it.  Something in the content of the lecture sparked it, and in my heart I understood and knew why it was I found myself in this moment of healing, but yet words can't express it.  I  recognized that something had pricked my heart, found another broken piece, and it needed healing.

I didn't always respond that way.  When my husband first passed away last fall I grieved hard at the funeral.  It was hard and intense.  I knelt beside his dirt covered grave before I left and said "I'm leaving it all here."  I thought that was the Christian thing to do.  I thought I needed to be strong and move on.  I thought that crying or exposing hurt was a sign of weakness, a result of lack of trust in God.  I felt this very real, yet unspoken, pressure to show everyone how great God was.  And I would do that by being strong. "I was fine."  I suppressed so many natural emotions for the first 5 months because I had believed that to acknowledge those moments when they came was doubting God's work.  And it lead me to an emotional crisis.

I found myself being led by God to change churches at just the right time.  It was a divine intervention of God for my healing.  For at this new church I found freedom.  As I entered each Sunday I was anonymous.  No one knew me.  No one knew what I had walked through.  I didn't have to answer to anyone, or put on a smile.  It was just me and God.  And thats what I needed.  I let my guard down and let God in.  I would answer every altar call at the end of service, walk up that altar to a prayer minister and just cry.  I couldn't express why I was crying.  I couldn't express what I needed prayer for.  Sometimes I would kneel at the altar, during worship especially, and the tears would just keep flowing; my liquid prayers.  They continued intensely for 6 weeks, and slowly began to taper... they still happen although they are more spuratic.

In that time at the altar God corrected me.  On May 1, 2011 God spoke to my heart.  This is what I wrote in my journal that morning:

"Let go of self image and 'I'm so strong, I'm healed, Its all okay'."  Its okay to hurt.  Its okay to let it show.  Its okay to not be able to do everything.  The 'I'm healed' is about ME; pride that I can walk through it, I'm so strong.  Let go of 'me' and 'self'.  Let GOD heal me and He WILL get the glory!!! Its okay to still need to be healed.  It doesn't lessen my testimony or God's healing.  I really did love him selflessly.  Hurt is normal! Let God bring it out and heal it!"

So in those moments, whether at the altar during service, or sitting in a class, I have learned to acknowledge the mourning or grief as a need for healing. And my prayer in these times has become "Bring it up. Bring it out. Heal my heart God."  I know that in these moments God is working, taking the brokenness and making something beautiful with my life!

It doesn't mean you don't trust him.  It doesn't mean you don't believe.  

It doesn't mean you don't know he's not redeeming everything. 

You don't need to run.  You don't need to speak.

Baby take some time, let those prayers roll down your cheek.

It may be tomorrow, you'll be past the sorrow.  

But tonight, it's alright...

Just cry.

-Mandisa, "Just Cry"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4MbnlSMDoE&feature=related