Nine Years

It is such a long time - encompassing so many obstacles and much more growth and change than I ever could have fathomed. Depths of grief I wasn't sure we could climb out of and mountain top joys where we are always aware of your physical absence.

Nine years!

I was 42 when we said goodbye, now I am 51. Our children are now 22 and 23. So much life has been lived without you by our side.

It's hard to think of how different our lives would be today if you were still here.

Hard and useless.

Comparison can be a thief of joy.

I recently sat down to pay the kids' final semester bursar bills.

I cried with thankfulness to God for seeing us through these nine years.

I cried with the realization of the celebrations on the horizon where your presence will be missed.

I cried with gratitude for you., Thank you for loving us so completely,. Thank you for leading us. Thank you for providing for us. Thank you for choosing me in 1995 and for building our family together.

I am so incredibly proud of our children. Their resilience. Their work ethic. Their intense dedication to walk through their grief and improve on themselves. I am excited to see where this gift of education leads them in their lives; what trajectory their careers take, how they continue to grow personally. I may have written the checks, but they showed up, did the hard work well, and earned their soon to be awarded degrees.

A lot can change in nine years. A lot of positive can be accomplished.

I have faltered at plenty in this journey, but when it comes to our kids; I am confident your legacy has been honored and we have made you proud.

Timothy Wayne Streller

04/03/1968 - 01/11/2014

Even If

School Awards Assembly 2014

Lunch Date with Mom 2023

Love Has Found Me

The other half of my forever. 

It has come quickly and fiercely, yet looking back, I see God’s gentle prodding and preparing of my heart for this timing.

Five months ago I sat across from a widower in a local restaurant on our first face-to-face meeting. We instantly connected on several levels. When he spoke of his late wife, his eyes and voice changed ever so slightly. Maybe it wouldn’t have been noticeable to many; but to someone who also had a beautiful marriage...it was obvious...this was a man who loved well and was loved well.

What a gift!

If I could visit the afterlife and have a few minutes with his late wife, I would hug her tightly and say...

Thank you, Julie.
Thank you for loving him well. Thank you for raising such sweet and respectful children with him.  Thank you for the beautiful relationship you had with both extended families.

Words actually fail me when I try to describe the gift he is to me, and I fully acknowledge that YOU were instrumental in molding him into the man who stands before me. I appreciate your love affair and your forever place in his heart. I am humbled to be stepping into the lives of your children and family. You will always be honored by me. Your family will always be respected by me.

Mark and I never could have imagined that you and my late husband would only be half of our forever's; but here we are.

We know we are fortunate to have found each other; to be experiencing two "love of our life's" in a single lifetime.  I am head over heels in love with him.

I promise to love him completely. I vow to love and treat your children as though they are my own.

I prayed, oh friends how I prayed!

I was content to remain single. We were a happy family of three. I had no desire to ever date again.

I prayed daily for an entire year that if God had someone special for me in my future, he would change the desire of my heart.

He did.

It scared me.

So I prayed.

I prayed daily for an entire year for God to prepare me for my future mate and to prepare him for me.

It was another year and a half before I met him.

A man who was loved well and loves me well. A man who knows the plight of solo parenting through grief and has excelled at it.  A man who is respected in his profession and adored by his family and friends.

I admire him. I cherish him. I enjoy being his. He is the answer to three and a half years of constant prayer.

So now, I pray.

I pray God blesses and protects our relationship.

I pray God continues to mold me into the woman this man needs as his encourager and partner.

I pray I can be a safe haven for him and his children in the years to come and that he can be a positive, loving mentor in the lives of my children.

This life is full of twists and turns; crushing turmoil and unexpected blessings. We cannot escape pain and loss; but we can embrace love. God is so faithful to expand our hearts to include new love without it standing in competition or comparison with the past. I marvel at how the great loves of my life can so peacefully co-exist independently within me.

Beauty from ashes...God is good.

LIVING

Widowed at 42.

At that time, every future goal, dream, and plan included him.

Nearly five years out from the loss now, I am dreaming on my own; finding who I enjoy being as a solo; settling into my new normal.

My new normal doesn’t mean “less than” or “more than” what we had together.  It just means different.  Different isn’t always negative.  Sometimes it is just....well....different.

I experience joy.  I experience laughter, lots and lots of laughter.  Laughing is still my favorite thing.

One of the many precious things he did for me before he passed was to give me permission to LIVE in his earthly absence.  Really live.  He told me to love again.  [I know that sounds strange, believe me—it sounded unfathomable to me at the time! But if it ever happens in my future, I know I have his blessing.]  He told me to have fun. 

Last month I got to go on a little fishing excursion with a friend.  I had an absolute blast!  The peacefulness of being on the water brought back lots of fun memories and even though the fish weren’t biting, my soul enjoyed the change of scenery and the simple comfort of just hanging out.

My life today does not stand in competition against my previous years with him.  Both seasons have beauty; both seasons have had hard things and hurts.  Each are uniquely their own.

I had a wonderful early October birthday when we were treated with a super fun family night out to a Thunder game. 

I have had a busy four days, actively living...spending time with several different friends.  Art show, OSU walk around, OSU HOCO game, another Thunder game...it’s been so much fun for me!  Even got to have brunch with Tim’s favorite surgeon yesterday.  Such a blessing to spend time together laughing and bonding over our simultaneous singleness.  I should have snapped a photo with her gorgeous self.  Oh how he loved her!

Being with new friends and old friends over the past four days has filled me back up. Spending time just soaking up new experiences has revived my thirst for living; and ignited my desire for experiencing and treasuring the moments. 

We get this one life.  I want to live it well.  I want to be surrounded by a tribe of wonderful and kind people. 

I feel like I am succeeding in that goal.  Which I know would make him proud, but more importantly...it makes me proud of myself.  Stepping outside of my comfort zone and being vulnerable to include new people in my tribe is scary, but I think it will be worth it as I begin to dream new dreams for myself.  I am grateful for my friends who walk alongside me and my God who faithfully strengthens me.

God is good....Even If. ❤️

Three Years

The presence of this week’s anniversary is palpable.

A simple date on a calendar that rolls by year after year; yet it evokes such deeply emotional triggers and vivid memories.

There is no ignoring its approach.

And yet the truth is he isn’t physically here anymore.  He isn’t going to be here on the 10^th and he isn’t going to be here on the 12^th.  So why does the 11^th feel so hard?  I can’t answer that, all I know is every fiber of my being aches in anticipation of this Wednesday.  Three years.  Just, wow.    

So we brace.

Emotionally, physically, spiritually…we try to anchor ourselves down into Christ and we ride through the week doing our best and trusting that He will fill in the gaping holes of ourselves as we put on our brave faces and weather yet another milestone.  Tears leak a bit more, voices tremble without warning, thoughts run deep, and memories flood us.  It is part of the journey and we are better for acknowledging the emotions as they come and pushing through them. 

I am prepared with things to do and people to spend my time with.  (Thank you to the friends who have reached out.  Thank you for remembering him.)  But more than just outward preparation, I am spending time following Tim’s example of leaning hard into Christ.  I am choosing to praise God for the years we had.  I am turning my hearts trembling cries into shouts of thanksgiving.  

I am grateful.  Blessed with the life we had together; proud to have been his wife; honored to have shared two decades with him; and joy filled to be rearing our children with his example of bravery, love, and dignity.

Our God is the Forever Faithful One….Even If…

The Beginning of Her Life

I think I just finished my first book to read all the way through (other than a Bible Study) in three years.  Maybe I am wrong and just can't remember, which is highly likely.  Regardless, the completion of this book took me several months, but it concluded with this:

"She's been told that it takes ten years to figure out what you're doing.  Ten years.

She takes a breath, smiles.  She's ready to get started.

With the beginning of it. Her life."

In January of 2009 Tim was misdiagnosed with terminal leukemia and our world shook.  What we thought was our future was quickly stripped away.  For three years we lived in limbo waiting for the corrected diagnosis of non-terminal leukemia to require the onset of a lifetime chemotherapy regimen. 

This coming February will mark five years since my life came crashing down around me.  His diagnosis of throat cancer hit us out of nowhere. 

Five years of turmoil and unknown; stress and exhaustion; fear and brokenness.  A walk through horrific treatment, surgeries, and suffering.   A slow dance to death's doorstep and the whirlwind aftermath of such loss.

But over these past eight years, I have had a faithful God gently leading me.  Ninety-six months of complete and utter dependence on Him.  He has captured my tears and planted fresh springs of healing.  He has been my comfort through anguished sleepless nights.  He has been my strength and my shield. 

Yes, there has been tremendous heartache; there has undeniably been immense pain.  But there is beauty in my brokenness.  There is glory in His presence through my journey. 

So while the main character of this book has been told "it takes ten years to figure out what you are doing", I am looking with hope to my new year as I complete year eight of topsy turvy uncertainty.  May my year nine be one where life settles.  I am beyond ready for a season of calmness and joy.  And if that isn't possible, I'll be okay anyway, because my God has proven Himself as faithful and steady.  He is constantly present.  He is enough.

Breathing In Hope (as featured on A Widow's Might)

 

 

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him"

1 Corinthians 2:9 ESV

None of us envisioned THIS as our future.

We didn’t walk our wedding aisle gazing at the pure love and joy on our groom’s face with thoughts that we would one day be widowed.

But THIS is where we are.

It is our “current”.

The pain is real and the grief is raw.

We cannot alter the circumstances that have brought us here. No matter how much we wish we could.  Time doesn’t flow in reverse.

There is a time to grieve. We cannot skip out on this.  We only harm ourselves if we try to rush the process.

Our loss was life shattering. Every single aspect of our world is now changed; every one of them, new.  This compounded loss that exists in each layer of us can plant seeds of fear.  Oh, we don’t necessarily recognize the little nagging thoughts as fear.  But it is there.

Fear we can’t possibly navigate this earth without the leadership of our husband manifests itself in constant thoughts of failure. If we aren’t careful, we can almost convince ourselves we are incapable without even attempting to accomplish something new.

Our fear of repeating a walk through such great loss causes us to hesitate in loving again.

Fear of the unknown nestles deep worry into our thoughts. Worry can begin to influence all processing in our brains, turning each situation into something potentially negative.  But we of all people should remember that this life is full of unknowns.  After all, we didn’t plan on being here, right?

What if it is time to come out from under the heaviness and start living again? Not living without the pain, but living around it.  Not erasing the memories, but cherishing them in their rightful place and looking ahead with expectation.

If you are not at this place yet, that’s okay. Do the work inside of your grief for now.  But, if you can honestly evaluate, and you are one who knows you should begin taking those bold steps forward, this writing is for you!

So which is it? Are you working through a healthy phase of grief, or are you stuck in grief because of fear?  Have you quit doing the work of sorting through grief and just settled in tight?  Are you stagnant in this life?

Friends, our God is anything but stagnant.
He is mighty and active.
He is alive and working.
He is NOT in the fear.  No, He is in the hope!

If these thoughts ring true within you, will you take time today to pray through your fears? Hand each one to God.  Name them and give them to the One who calms fears and offers hope.  Call on His mighty name with expectation of what He will do with your life.

Will there be unknowns?
Will there be things that seem too hard?
Will the newness at times be awkward to walk through?
I answer all of these with a resounding YES. But that “yes” is where hope lives.  It lives in the light that is revealed when fears are brought out of their darkness and surrendered.

Hope lives in the increased breaths as you contemplate that first step toward newness.
It resides in the accelerated heartbeat as you bravely walk into your future.
It is the combination of not knowing what comes next and the excitement of trusting that God will walk whatever path lies in your future with you.

Years ago, we had only dreams of beauty when we eagerly gazed upon our groom. Now we have lived more.  Pain has tinged our hearts edges.  What has happened, we cannot change.  We can choose to let that pain grow fear and leave us stagnant, or we can allow God to move us into a place of hope.

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him"

1 Corinthians 2:9 ESV

None of us envisioned THIS as our future.
We didn’t walk our wedding aisle gazing at the pure love and joy on our groom’s face with thoughts that we would one day be widowed.
But THIS is where we are.
It is our “current”.
The pain is real and the grief is raw.
We cannot alter the circumstances that have brought us here. No matter how much we wish we could.  Time doesn’t flow in reverse.
There is a time to grieve. We cannot skip out on this.  We only harm ourselves if we try to rush the process.
Our loss was life shattering. Every single aspect of our world is now changed; every one of them, new.  This compounded loss that exists in each layer of us can plant seeds of fear.  Oh, we don’t necessarily recognize the little nagging thoughts as fear.  But it is there.
Fear we can’t possibly navigate this earth without the leadership of our husband manifests itself in constant thoughts of failure. If we aren’t careful, we can almost convince ourselves we are incapable without even attempting to accomplish something new.
Our fear of repeating a walk through such great loss causes us to hesitate in loving again.
Fear of the unknown nestles deep worry into our thoughts. Worry can begin to influence all processing in our brains, turning each situation into something potentially negative.  But we of all people should remember that this life is full of unknowns.  After all, we didn’t plan on being here, right?
What if it is time to come out from under the heaviness and start living again? Not living without the pain, but living around it.  Not erasing the memories, but cherishing them in their rightful place and looking ahead with expectation.
If you are not at this place yet, that’s okay. Do the work inside of your grief for now.  But, if you can honestly evaluate, and you are one who knows you should begin taking those bold steps forward, this writing is for you!
So which is it? Are you working through a healthy phase of grief, or are you stuck in grief because of fear?  Have you quit doing the work of sorting through grief and just settled in tight?  Are you stagnant in this life?
Friends, our God is anything but stagnant.
He is mighty and active.
He is alive and working.
He is NOT in the fear.  No, He is in the hope!
If these thoughts ring true within you, will you take time today to pray through your fears? Hand each one to God.  Name them and give them to the One who calms fears and offers hope.  Call on His mighty name with expectation of what He will do with your life.
Will there be unknowns?
Will there be things that seem too hard?
Will the newness at times be awkward to walk through?
I answer all of these with a resounding YES. But that “yes” is where hope lives.  It lives in the light that is revealed when fears are brought out of their darkness and surrendered.

Hope lives in the increased breaths as you contemplate that first step toward newness.
It resides in the accelerated heartbeat as you bravely walk into your future.
It is the combination of not knowing what comes next and the excitement of trusting that God will walk whatever path lies in your future with you.

Years ago, we had only dreams of beauty when we eagerly gazed upon our groom. Now we have lived more.  Pain has tinged our hearts edges.  What has happened, we cannot change.  We can choose to let that pain grow fear and leave us stagnant, or we can allow God to move us into a place of hope.

Nineteen Months: A Mental In-Between

It all feels recent and yet distant.

Painful memories are less prominent (unless it is late at night).

Sleep has returned to a normal cycle.

Beautiful memories, ones from before illness finally fill my mind.

The missing remains, but it is blanketed at times with new coping skills.

Here is where my current mental battle remains...irrational fears are still very present, usually surfacing at bedtime. 

At nineteen months out from experiencing one of my biggest fears become my reality...I am existing somewhere between wanting to dream of my future again and knowing dreams don't always come true.

It's a strange place to be; this in-between.  

The place where tragedy has touched and changed me deeply, yet hopes linger.

When I am exhausted, strange thoughts and feelings can enter my mind.  It isn't fully explainable, it is as though I am on the verge of dreaming of a new future, yet I am sabotaging it with crazy "worst fear" scenarios at the same time. My mind races off on a tangent.  "What if?"  How would I respond if my worst fears about the future came true (again)?  Why would I respond that way? Over and over, the scenarios play out in my mind.  I find myself frustrated over something that hasn't even happened.  Irrational fears are a little discussed part of the grief process.

Any new happiness will always be tinged with my reality that loss occurs in this life.  It is a mental battle to just experience the joy when it comes and not play out all the possible negative scenarios that could ruin it.  The thought process is unwelcome yet unavoidable.

So I turn to Scripture.  I read in my Bible and claim God's Word.  Taking thoughts captive.  Being reminded that He makes beauty from ashes.  Resting under the safety of His wings and taking shelter there from the vicious cycle of thoughts and fears that want to grip my mind and steal my future happiness.  Remembering that fear is not from God but is a weapon of the enemy, I lay my fears...rational and irrational both...at the foot of the cross.

The peace He gives cleanses my mind and heart.

I am currently residing in the in-between.  Behind me lay ruins.  A greatest fear realized through profound loss. Before me exists an immediate future I can neither predict nor control.  Beyond that lies eternity, which is secured in Christ.

My responsibility is to be obedient to Christ, keep my mind steadfast on Him, and to trust Him for the details.  I pray he enlarges my ability to fully experience hopes and dreams again and diminishes my "devil's advocate" mentality that constantly wants to remind me things in life are hard and won't go as planned.  I depend on Him alone to balance knowledge of reality and the ability to dream of beauty again.  In the meantime, I am fighting hard to live in the moment and enjoy the now.  

I want renewal.  

I want to dream without constant filter of fear and loss touching it.  

For this in-between is where newness will sprout, if I allow it.

The Place Where Joy and Sorrow Co-Mingle

I sit in a lawn chair staring at the sky. 

Fireworks burst before my eyes, but my mind is flashing even brighter with memories of years gone by.

Our first 4^th of July, he propped the ladder against the side of his rent house and hopped up on the roof reaching down for my hand.  We lay there watching the sky explode in patriotic colors.

Fast forward five years to him holding our seven week old son while sitting on the rear compartment of our minivan in Plano, Texas to watch the fireworks.  I can see his ball cap on his head and Kolby with pacifier in mouth.  I remember what they wore.

Pops of color bring another flash of memory to us in lawn chairs in the bed of his truck lined with quilts as our one and two year old children stare in awe at the UCO spectacular show.

A splash of light floods the sky as years come tumbling through my mind.  Festivities with friends in our neighborhood, fun with new friends as time progresses, time with his oldest friend as both men have landed in Edmond.

The sound of a boom and tears slide down my cheeks as memories of the final 4^th of July crash into my mind.  I am rearranging hospital furniture to get his bed closer to a window so he can see the beauty of America’s celebration.  We had planned to sneak up on the hospital roof, but he was too weak so we improvised.  He is so grateful for my efforts to help him experience some portion of normalcy in this slow march toward death's door.

I find myself happy and yet sad.  Tears of gratitude flow unashamedly beside tears of sadness. 

And I realize that one week out from 18 months into this journey;

this is the place where joy and sorrow co-mingle.  

Here, in my memories. 

It is both beautiful and hard. 

It is all together lovely and crushing; uplifting and devastating.

To have known a love so fierce,

To have been cherished so completely,

To have experienced in our twenty years what friends say many don’t know in a lifetime;

It is a privilege and it is heartbreaking at the same time.

Tim~ Loving you forever, missing you always….Lori

       

One Year

And so life really does keep going.  Time ticks off the clock.  Days disappear from the calendar. 

Suddenly, it is January 11, 2015.

How is this possible?

A year ago, I couldn't even imagine the next ten minutes in front of me.

365 days.

8,760 hours.

It has been a full year of countless tears and an emotional roller coaster that continues to nauseate me.

I am wounded. 

I am damaged….damaged in a way that doesn't always show from the outside.  I carry deep, gaping wounds that continually have the edges of their tender, healing scabs catch and snag on a memory, then rip open again.  There is a bleeding out from my soul that can’t be stopped with a kind word or a hug.  My eyes have seen suffering that cannot be unseen.  My heart has been shattered, it will never go back together in the same way it once was. 

It is something I have to walk through; this grief.

Me quoting Scripture
over Tim in his hospice bed.

There are days when no tears fall, but there has yet to be a waking hour when he hasn't been on my mind. Not a single one.  My ache is so guttural. 

There are also periods when the muck of the grief is so thick that I am tempted to stop, lay down in it, let it smother me and just surrender to the pain.  My chest feels heavy and breaths are ragged. 

I know that this deep suffering is a result of the loss of an even deeper love.  I accept that.  I wouldn't trade our love story for anyone else’s.  But quite frankly, it doesn't make it any easier.  I am lonely without him.  It is a loneliness that is so acute; it can completely swallow me while I am in a crowd of people.

But life continues.  God didn't take me.  He took the best part of me, but I am still here, just trying to muddle through each day, and sometimes each hour.  

I’m struggling to guide our children without Tim’s wisdom, his level-headed parenting, and his wicked sarcasm that lightened every situation.  Oh how he loved these two...with a total acceptance and all-consuming love.  They were his pride and joy; his very heartbeat.     

I don’t have a choice but to keep trudging forward.  I let the grief waves come, some days they gently lap against my ankles and others they attack like a tsunami.  I have given myself permission to feel what I feel; to cry as long as the tears will fall; to experience the full ups and downs of emotions that ravage me.  

I have only given myself one rule for this grief.  One single rule has kept me sane over these past twelve months.  I DO NOT have permission to take my eyes off of Jesus.

I must stay focused on Him. 

That is my rule. 

He is my strength.  He is my constant companion.  He guides me.  He reminds me that He has a purpose for my life.  He redeems my brokenness.  He assures me that time is in His hands.  Tim’s time, my time, our children’s time; it’s all there, in the hands of our Savior.  If I am left here without Tim, then I have a responsibility to fulfill.  I am now living for two.  Experiencing our children’s youth for the both of us.  I am leaning hard into God as the leader of this little family of ours.

So while time keeps on ticking, and days fly off of the calendar…I want to really be choosing to live this life.  It is a gift with an expiration.  No one knows their time. 

I have no idea how long God will choose to leave me here, but I know Tim expects me to choose wisely. 

He expects me to lead our family well, tucked under the ultimate leadership of Christ. 

He expects me to continue moving forward, whatever that looks like. 

He wouldn't allow me to wallow in the mire of grief.  He sure didn't when facing death. He faced it with honor and dignity. 

He faced it with a bravery that I can’t comprehend, even though I witnessed it.

So yes, I am damaged.  I am different than I was.  I may never stop leaking unexpected tears.  That's okay...  

Because my eyes are on Jesus. 

I trust Him. 

Whatever He has in these next 8,760 hours, I will follow.  I give Him the messy grief.  I depend on Him for the healing of deep wounds that will eventually turn to scars.  I choose to collapse in His capable arms as He carries this family forward.  Not away from Tim, but forward, in honor of his memory.

My Tim,

You are missed constantly.  You are cherished deeply and respected beyond measure.  You continue to be an amazing provider for your family, even in death.  We are doing okay.  The pain is harsh and the missing is raw; but we are putting on brave faces, smiling in your memories, and leaning hard on Jesus, just like you taught us. 

All my love, forever and ever,

Lori          

Even If…   

     

       

God Gives Power (Isaiah 40:29)

When one of these anniversaries of Tim’s passing rolls around, I want to be in the state of mind that I am celebrating the number of months he has been with Jesus more than I am grieving the number of months I've been without him.


Honestly, I'm not there yet, but I am asking God to bring me to that place; I long to be obedient to His command to be joyful.  He can and will get me there. I am looking forward to it.


My responsibility is to surrender my weaknesses to God.  I am to bring Him my brokenness.  The difficulties of continuing my life without the one I made a marriage covenant with before God are too numerous to count.  God gets that.


Thankfully, I am not living this life by my own might or power.  I am living it by the Spirit of God; and in Him, there is strength!


"'Til death do us part" really happened.  The 19 years went by too quickly; we weren't finished loving each other.  We hadn't seen our children into high school, or through first loves; we don't get to be side-by-side as they select their career choices, or marry their mates; we won't hold hands while we attend those adorable grandchildren's births.  (And trust me, they will be adorable!)


My heartache is being a widow.  Your grief might also be from the loss of a spouse, or it might be from the loss of a parent, a sibling, a close friend, or a precious child.  Broken dreams hurt.  God heals.  He loves.  Our God loves us enough to catch every tear.  He loves us enough to give us the ability to move forward.


He loves us enough to increase our strength.


Sometimes it's tempting to want to stay stuck in one phase of grief or another.  We long to wrap ourselves up warmly in the embrace of denial or depression.  Another anniversary rolls around and we don't have the strength or desire to get out of bed or to make one more decision by ourselves.  Friends, God promises to increase our strength!


If that doesn't put a smile on our faces, what will?  We have a God who cares about us and each stage of grief we endure.  He doesn't tell us to "Suck it up, Buttercup".  He doesn't expect us to find our own way to "get over it".  He understands.


He gives power!


God provides us with the power to process our grief.  His healing comes to each of us in His timing and within His individual will for each one of His children.  He is a personal God!


Whether we like it or not, in God's Word, He repeatedly commands us to be thankful and joyful.  Those commands are not circumstantial.  There are no exceptions listed.


I don't read in 1 Thessalonians 5:16 and 18 to "Be joyful always (unless you've lost someone) and to "give thanks in everything (except grief)".  In the trenches of freshly broken hearts, we are incapable of joy and thanksgiving on our own. (And I use "freshly" as a relative, non-time-sensitive term, as each journey is so unique.)


Herein lays the beauty of our marvelous God.  Let's crawl to God daily until He fills us with the strength and power to stand again.


Psalm 16:11, "You will fill me with joy in your presence".  He fills us with joy.  Praise God, He fills the emptiness with beauty when we bring it to Him.


Want to know what else we find in the presence of our Savior?  Hebrews 4:15-16 tells us we receive sympathy with our weakness, along with mercy and grace to help us in our time of need.


Thank You Lord, for not leaving us to do this alone.  Thank You that You increase our strength with Your mighty power.  We may not like our circumstances, but we love You.  Your provisions are perfect and You are always good.  Take the ragged edges of our ripped apart hearts and bind them with Your loving kindness.  Fill us with more of You.  May the joy of our Savior penetrate the darkest places and radiate from within us.  Amen.

Impenetrable Grief

It’s coming.  Grief so heavy we can hardly breathe.  It is right around the corner for the kids and me.  We have been grieving for the past 20 months in little ways, but the grief we have yet to experience will be all-consuming and suffocating.  On one of my runs a week or so ago, I was listening to my praise music and praying over my precious family and I was overcome with grief.  It washes over me at the oddest of times, really. 

The only way to describe it is “impenetrable”…..and the worst hasn’t even hit me yet.

Please understand that I am well aware our little unit of three will not be the only ones grieving for my husband.  He has parents and brothers and nieces and nephews who will mourn him.  He has in-laws who love him as their very own son and sibling.  He has work colleagues and great friendships.  And to each of you I say, " I acknowledge your grief will be real.  I know that you will be hurting and you will miss him too."  I will not pretend to know the ins and outs of your grief. 

I cannot even begin to understand what this grief will be like for our children.  I have never lost a parent, and when I do it certainly will not be at such a young and tender age, with so many life experiences ahead of me.  Likewise, they cannot begin to comprehend my grief.  We will be walking this road side by side…..but in our individual ways.

I will be the one who pulls into the garage at least twice a day to see the empty parking space where his truck belongs.

I will be the one to tuck our children in at night and pray with them, knowing this was their special “talk-time” ritual with their daddy.

 

I will be the one who crawls into bed alone (sometimes frightened) each night with no hand to hold or partner to pray with.  And I will wake up alone each morning.

It will be the three of us who set the table and try to make conversation at dinner while we are acutely aware of who is missing from their chair.

I will view his clothes in our closet multiple times each day.

I will be the one who won’t hear “I love you” daily again from the lips of the one I love.

It will be me who cleans out his bathroom drawers.

We will check the mail and find his name for months and maybe even years to come.

I will be the sole driver on vacations.  (This has primarily been his pleasure for the past nearly 19 years.)

 

We will change every light bulb and air filter, roll the trash to the curb each Sunday evening, and make general home improvements; all while using his tools from his tool box.

It will be me who never gets a sick day because work must be done and kids must be chauffeured.

I will sit at school plays and sporting events alone, cheering on our children.  They will perform and see only me acknowledging their accomplishments.  Their dad is one of their biggest fans.  I hope (but have not found  Scriptural assurance) that he will be given windows from heaven to peer down from time to time and observe us glorifying God through good sportsmanship and hard work.  Those moments would make him so proud.

I will attend couples Sunday school classes and sit through marriage bible studies alone…as a widow.

Tim will be missing from every moment of our day and we will KNOW it because the reminders will be oppressive, not that our hearts would let us forget anyway.

I will be the one who attends movies alone with no one to rest their hand on my knee.

There will be no one to tell me I look pretty when I get ready to go somewhere.  No dad to hug each child as they walk out the door.

There will be no more sweet surprise cards or notes to encourage me from my “boyfriend”.

No one will wash the dishes after I am exhausted from cooking. 

No one will help cycle laundry late at night or tug on the fitted sheet corners opposite me to get them snug.

And this list is just what comes to mind when I contemplate trying to go through a day without my Tim to share life with.  I truly have no idea how horrific it will actually be. 

Our daily life will be interrupted

moment by moment,

everywhere we turn

and with everything we see.

Unless you have experienced the death of your best friend and lover, you won’t know my specific pain.  And unless you have lost a parent while in junior high, you can’t truly comprehend the journey our children's hearts and minds will be on (and even then the individuality of the situations will be different).  So please…..

PLEASE, I am begging you….

…when the time comes, give the kids and me time to grieve. 

Don’t place us in a box and limit our grief process to what you think a proper time frame should be.  Don’t expect us to heal as quickly as you do or to return to “life as normal” soon, because we will need time to process our new “normal”, and it will take a while to sort through the gut-punches of everyday life without the man we each love most on this earth.

The grief will be impenetrable.  The good news about impenetrable grief is that God is with us in our grief.  He doesn’t need to penetrate the barrier.  His Holy Spirit lives within each one of us (praise God) and He will guide us and bring healing to us……in His time.

Baldness Reality {a hospital journal entry from the wee hours of March 19, 2013}

 

Last night I was scrolling through my hospital journal and I found this entry.  Fresh tears fell once more.   

 

How can lack of hair make such a difference?  I kiss his bald head goodnight, crawl onto my cot and lay still, listening until I know he is asleep.  Then the tears slide down my cheeks and drip onto my pillowcase. 

There is something about the baldness that rips at my heart when he is in his hospital bed. 

He looks smaller.

He looks older.

He looks more frail.

He looks scared.

His bright blue eyes seem to pierce my soul as if to say, "capture this memory, for the end is near".  I lie awake in the wee hours of the morning after a mere nap during the long night.  Listening to the whimpering in his sleep and his uneven breathing.  Wanting to be here to reassure him when he briefly wakes up confused and restless. 

Reality is a cold slap across my face.  The past 13 days have been our closest to normal we have had in a long time....and I almost forgot.

Forgot that he has only been given months to live. 

Forgot that this chemo is not a cure but a prolonging of life.

Forgot that he will not grow old beside me.

Forgot that I will be responsible to lead our children into adulthood without him.

My heart aches so deeply that I literally feel physical pain and struggle to catch my breath through the silent sobs.

I read that journal entry and a flood of memories burst forth.  So many sleepless  days and nights I have spent watching him sleep in a hospital bed.  Oh so very many.  This journal entry was from March of 2013.  It is October now, and my man is still here beside me.  With the chemotherapy treatments stopped, he is ever so slowly growing back in the hair on his head and face.  We celebrate the baby eyelashes and new peach fuzz atop his head.  But more than anything, we celebrate the gift of time. 

I wouldn't trade the past 7 months of "extra time" with my Tim for all the sleep in the world.  What a blessing it has been to be by his side during the treacherous journey through chemotherapy, living my wedding vows out loud to the love of my life. 

It hurts. 

It is the hardest of hards. 

But I am grateful to my God for it......this gift of time.  Even as it slips away.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." ~Psalm 90:12