More Than My Scars

"to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, 

the oil of gladness instead of mourning, 

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness, 

the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified." 

~Isaiah 61:3 ESV

I stand in this woman’s kitchen answering basic questions that shouldn’t make me bristle.  My friend and I are visiting a church small group that meets in her home.  It is our first time; the hostess is gracious and kind, simply making small talk.

“Do you have children?"

“Do you work outside of your home?”

I try my best to politely answer and escape the questioning before she touches on the subject of my husband.  It’s more than my not wanting to experience the awkward shock that comes when people meet a young(ish) widow.  It’s even more than not wanting to look back into yet another sympathetic face made when others learn of my situation.  It is simply that:

I don’t want to be identified by my scars.

I am a forty-four year old mother of two teenagers.  I am more than a widow.  I am an employee at a wonderful medical practice.  I am more than a widow.  I am a writer and a speaker.  I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece and a friend.  I am so much more than a widow!

My children are more than the loss of their father.  “Half-orphans”, yes…but they are so much more!  They are academic competitors.  They are athletes.  They are my son and my daughter with friendships of their own.  They are more than children who have lost their dad!

I am almost two years into widowhood and while I will always be Tim’s widow, I don’t want to use it as a crutch or an excuse to not be all that God has called me to be.  I want to be known as Lori.

Lori the encourager.

Lori the God-chaser.

Lori the involved mother.

Lori the genuine friend.

Lori the hard-worker.

Lori the team player.

"Widow" is only one of my labels.  I am so much more.  As my healing journey progresses, I find myself desiring to let my other truths move to the forefront and show themselves as more dominant than my scars of widowhood.

Am I torn and damaged?  Yes, I am.

Am I covered in jagged scars on the inside?  Most definitely, yes.

Just like scarring is a natural part of the healing process after an injury on the outside of our bodies,

God is fortifying the gashes of our hearts and souls with healing tissue; ever so gently binding up the raw ends.  He is injecting them with His love, operating on them with His peace, and smoothing their surface with His assurance that we are MORE.

We are more than our circumstances, ladies.  Hear me sisters, we ARE more than our past.  We are more than our pain.  We are survivors!  We are children of the Most High God.

I want to be living life so fully and beautifully that people I meet in the future are shocked to learn I am a widow.  I want my kids to be so outrageously successful throughout high school, in college, and their adult lives that new friends are stunned to hear they lost their dad while still in junior high.

For these wishes to come true, the three of us have to start making choices now; choices to not lead with our pain; choices to show the world that we are so much more than our scars.

Lord, thank you for reminding us that in You, we are more.  You created us for so much more than one label, help us to shine for You.  May we wear our scars with pride because of the healing power You have infused in them. Enable us to lead with Your healing presence in us instead of the pain.  Amen.

The Missing (As featured on A Widow's Might)

While smiling and nodding, they ask me how I am doing.  It is as if they are willing my response to be something along the lines of, “I am doing well.  The kids and I are moving forward and healing.  Life is back to normal.” 

Sometimes it feels like people “need” me to be doing better than I really am.  After all, we’ve passed the One Year mark and their lives have moved past our pain and loss.

The missing of him in year two is a strange beast.

We teeter between loving memories and an acute knowledge of his absence.

This painful missing in our lives can at times be so real, so overwhelming, so heart shattering that it feels as if the MISSING itself has become the fourth member of our family unit.  Don’t even get me started on the managing of three distinct grief journeys all under the same roof.  It’s flat out exhausting, and not just for this Momma; it is tiring for all of us. 

This emptiness of space our loved one filled is a unique pain, isn’t it?  Its severity will waiver; it lessens at times and intensifies at others, but it never fully goes away.  Ordinary life events trigger significant pain.  A pain that is physical.  A breath shortening, heart racing, tears brimming, all-

consuming ache.

I answer this question of “How are you?” with some version of the truth I am feeling at that very moment.  I’ve put my brave face on with a “We are holding on” or “hanging in there”.  I’ve bitten my lip to hide the quiver with an “It really stinks, but God is still good.”  I’ve even wordlessly collapsed into a few strong hugs with tears spilling at the simple gesture of kindness. 

More often than not, I soften my answer in an effort to not burden the one asking.  Probably though, I do it to maintain my composure without falling off the cliff upon which I find myself precariously perched.  Because you see, I don’t get to dictate when the missing of him will overwhelm me.  My children don’t get to dictate when the missing of him will slam them into a wall of grief.    

The asking, while I assume it is hard for the asker, and I assure you it is hard for the answerer…is in itself is a beautiful gift.        

I hear widows complain that people “don’t really mean it” when they ask how we are, that they “don’t really care or want to hear the truth.”  Hey listen, I wouldn’t want to be the one tip toeing around the land mine that is me in these early months or years either.  Let’s cut them some slack. 

I tend to think their desperation is more than just a need for me to be doing well so they aren’t made to feel uncomfortable in my mess.

These are people who have been prayer warriors for me and my family. 

They have shed tears over our loss. 

Many have had to navigate their own grief in losing him from their lives too. 

Some encounter my children on a daily basis and see the odd mixture of healing and fresh pain in real time.

I truly am grateful for their considerate questions.  Even when it is unfortunate for them that they caught me in a not so wonderful moment, my heart swells with gratitude.  Their simple gesture of asking, even when awkward for us both, is a precious gift.  It means they are acknowledging our pain and willing to share our burden of “the missing”, if only for  a few brief moments.

Lord, instead of me bristling at the brevity of the encounter, help me choose to praise You for bumping me into people who care enough to ask the question.  Keep moving me forward in my healing.  There is no cure for this missing, but I trust that You can make something beautiful of the pain.  Amen.   

     

http://anewseason.net/widows-might/the-missing/

My Mission Field

We hit a rough patch of heavy grief this past month in our home. 

These things happen.

They take time to work through but the hard work is necessary for proper healing to occur.

Watching my children struggle through grief management wipes this Momma’s heart out.

When one of us goes down, the others can’t help but to follow a little bit.  It is a natural part in the process of sharing different versions of the same loss under one roof.

Honestly, we were beginning to have better days more often than horrible ones. Then one of us suffered a tremendous break through and breakdown.  With my ministry sabbatical nearing its end in a few weeks, I thought I should gather my pieces for the next quarter while I was in touch with the deep and ugly bits of grief.

It’s been a very emotional 48 hours for me.  Selecting and polishing the entries from my personal journal that God would have me share with other widows.  Creating the artwork pieces for each post, and reliving the pain associated with each story has also oddly been positive. 

How?

Without our tragic story, we couldn't proclaim the depth of our Saviors comfort to a hurting world.  It is really that simple. 

God has been faithful to comfort me.  To whom much is given, much is expected.

"When someone has been given much, much will be required in return;

and when someone has been entrusted with much, even more will be required."

Luke 12:48

While God has shown great love and compassion for me, He also expects me to proclaim all glory to His name.  I am not walking this path of widowhood victoriously because of my own strength.  It is His power that propels me forward and it is His comfort that gives me a safe spot to land when grief knocks me off my feet.

One way I reflect God's glory is through my writing and conference speaking for aNew Season/A Widow's Might Ministries.  It isn't easy.  Each of our team members have to repeatedly open ourselves up to "go there"; back to the raw pain and the brokenness time and time again as we encounter new widows who need to hear about how Christ longs to make their heart sing for joy again. 

As I place the finishing touches on my upcoming four posts for the next quarter, I am reminded of 2 Corinthians 1:4.

"God comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others."

There will undoubtedly come a day when I will not be able to continually dip down into this deep well of pain and suffering.  In order to continue my personal path of healing, I will have to move forward without re-accessing the immense sorrow.  But right now?  God has called me to minister in this way for this season.  

I cherish your prayers as I prepare to re-enter this portion of my ministry journey.   

{You can read my collection of previous ministry posts here.}

My Personal Testimony Video

This blog and my writing were born out of deep suffering and great loss.

In this short video, I share my testimony for aNew Season Ministries and A Widow's Might.

Special thanks to Trish Scott with Sweetberry Photography, Allie Raney with Allison Taylor Photography for the professional family photos in Tim's final 
years.

Additional gratitude for Carmen with Seemallard Media, who so patiently guided me through my seemingly endless tears to capture this testimony.

My First Widow's Conference

Let’s start this story where it really began…

I had the opportunity (if that’s what we want to call it) of knowing that widowhood was approaching.

It was during my journey into widowhood that I found the ministry A Widow’s Might.

Their writing team was speaking to my aching heart before I even crossed the threshold into this sorority that none of us willingly pledged.  Their devotionals encouraged my soul and continually pointed me to Jesus.  They were a balm to my open-wounded emotions.

Here, were a team of writers and speakers that have walked the walk and know…to the depths of their beings...the pain associated with losing their husbands.  It was like a magnet pulling me towards them, I eagerly awaited each new post.

I first read about A Widow’s Might November Conference back in the spring.  A conference for widow’s?  WOW!  What would that be like?

They had invited me to submit a guest blog.  I had spent hours visiting with the leader of the ministry on the phone, discussing my writing, our faith, her vision of where God was taking them.  I started the registration process to attend the conference but in the end decided I couldn't afford it.  Travel to Myrtle Beach is expensive.  I've always been one to stick to a strict budget and I simply couldn't justify taking funds from the family vacation account to use on me individually.

 

Time continued to pass, I continued to journal.  Kit and I visited more.  Slowly, we both felt God’s calling for me to become a full time team member.  That in and of itself blows my mind, THIS ministry that had held my hand as I traveled the treacherous path to becoming a widow now wanted little ole me to join them.  All glory to God alone!  [You can order our newest daily devotional For the Love of Her Life Winter Edition here.]

 

The kids and I discussed my desire to attend the conference and we watched God remove the financial obstacles one by one.  Even to the point that a medical provider donated his services to our family which freed up funds I had saved to use for those procedures.  Funds that could now be used for an airline ticket instead.  My sister even took off work and came to stay in our home to parent the kids in my absence.  God is a God of details!

Thankfully, God has blessed me with a local ministry team member (the 17 of us are scattered all over the US and I have one 20 minutes from me!).  We flew out together.  It was comforting for me to have a friend to travel with.  I arrived in Charlotte (another one of God’s financial provisions) and met two other team members face-to-face for the first time.  Together we drove down (or over, or up, my directional challenged brain doesn't even know!)

The team was amazing.

As a "late comer" to the team, I had "behind the scenes" responsibilities for this conference.  Also, as a new team member, I needed to video my ministry testimony to be used on our website.

Never mind that the ocean was too noisy and the hotel curtains ended up being my backdrop. (But really, you that know me well know how much this bothers me…haha-I love decorating and all of those little details.  I’m quite certain my outfit clashed with those hideous curtains!  I even wore orange in honor of Tim’s OSU Cowboys and the OKC Thunder.)  Another sweet reminder from our heavenly Father that this isn't about me!

The videographer was so extremely kind and patient with me as I cried...and cried...and cried.  No seriously, I finally cut out half of my planned speech because it was just too painful.  I can’t wait to see what Carmen makes of it!  I trust her.  Believe me, when it is available and I post it, remember that if it is even half way decent, it is all because of her mad editing skills and compassion.  She even leaked a few tears (but maybe that was because she was happy to be done with me…haha).

       

It was a full week of hard work, little sleep, deep praise and wonderful healing for me.  I watched God move in mighty ways.  Women entered the registration area timid and with hesitation.  Those same women walked out of our final session with smiles, laughter, friends and the love of Christ resting softly upon them.

  

It. 

Was. 

Beautiful.  

It was a time of healing and encouragement; tears and joy; frustrations and forgiveness.

Personally, I felt God tug on a few more of the straggly threads along the edges of my tattered heart and gently bind up their ends.  This was my first "alone" time to grieve and heal without the audience of my children.  It was a necessary step in my healing. Grief is a long and arduous process.

Nothing is beyond God’s time table or skill level.  

He is faithful.

As a ministry, we are now deep in the throes of planning the upcoming Dallas conference in February.  I am excited to watch God show off again!  Will you commit to join me in prayer over each woman He wants to draw to attend this conference?  I assure you, our team is diligently preparing for God to be glorified.

Find out more here.