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.

A Podcast Interview: Memories and Missing

Yesterday morning, I sat with a friend and visited about widowhood.

She asked real questions and I gave raw answers.  We barely even noticed the microphone in front of us.

Today, her podcast interview was released.

My first thought while listening is, "Goodness gracious, I do laugh a lot in this life!" and I am not one bit sad about that fact!

Tim would be tickled that I am still laughing my way through this messy life.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/elizabethkaydyers-podcast/id1417204110?i=1000436964800&fbclid=IwAR19zGOQI3gvZ36Feettpa367VXZkp0vYETXWacmtTdgLfatJ-7qSkCHTcA

Word of the Year

My word for 2013 was “Joy” as I desired to be joy filled in all circumstances.  It was a difficult final year with my Tim battling for each and every day of life, but we succeeded in finding the blessings and experiencing true joy through Christ Jesus.

My word for 2014 was “Rest”.  The loss of my husband and solo parenting our children through grief brought exhaustion on indescribable levels.  I most likely failed at 2014’s Word of the Year; just keeping it real, friends.

My word for 2015 was “Steadfast”.  God had proven Himself as steadfast to me and I wanted to exemplify that steadfast dependability to my children and others who needed stability from me for their own journeys.  This was the year we buried Tim’s ashes in the snow on the mountaintop of his favorite place.  God’s strength carried me through.

My word for 2016 was “Focus” as I craved remaining centered on Christ and His goodness to us.  I eliminated distractions in this year, simplified our lives with a move into our new home, and honed in on my top priority of raising our children to reach their highest potential.

My word for 2017 was “Open” as I longed to be open to whatever God brought for my future and committed to pray daily over myself that God would prepare me and my heart for His will.

My word for 2018 was “Semi-Colon”.  Continuing on with my life when I could let circumstances of my past dictate an end to joy, love, and full-on living was a CHOICE.  This vulnerability has brought some pain and heartache, along with some personal growth and boldness.  I am learning what I want for myself.  It is an ever-evolving work in progress. 

Five years post loss, empty nest, and best-friend moving across the country…so many changes are coming in the months ahead.  Before 2019 ends, I will truly be sitting here in this Edmond home alone.  My word for 2019 is COURAGE.  May I lean into the One who strengthens me for each day and builds within me for my future that only He knows.  2019 will require bravery, boldness, deep reflection, and discipline; it will demand COURAGE.

True to my Word of the Year, we will be beginning 2019 by trekking back to the burial site of our beloved Tim’s ashes.  I will, for the first time ever, be driving the mountain pass (which terrifies me).  I cannot think of a better way to kick off this new year with “courage”.  

The Surprised Missing Role

She had surgery today. 

Our girl. 

It wasn’t massive, only an hour or so under anesthesia, but my heart still felt anxiety.

Tears stung my eyes as I prayed over her last night and this morning.

Will medical events; however minor, ever feel normal again? 

I sat in the waiting room with her boyfriend and my mom, journaled a prayer into the prayer book I keep for her, and thought a lot of you. 

I’ve spent far too many hours in waiting rooms petitioning our God for safety and healing.

Today brings back the flood of memories from being your caregiver for our 19 years of marriage.   

Never a year passed where we weren’t at one specialist or another concerning your health; countless surgeries, dozens and dozens of them. 

We are home now.  She is resting as comfortably as possible.  I am caring for her, changing ice packs, explaining where she is to her as the anesthesia continues to cause confusion.  And a lump forms in my throat. 

I miss being your caregiver.  I didn’t realize until now how much I miss that role.  I miss YOU the most, obviously, but I miss expressing my love to you through tenderly caring for you all those years. 

As I read through all of the pre- and post- surgical instructions last night and organized all of her medications on the bathroom counter, I had so many memories of doing the same for you.  It had become a part of who I am.  Another consequential loss compounded by your departure to heaven.

I am tired.  So very weary lately.  No particular reason.  Life is good.  We continue to engage as a family and laugh daily.  But I would love a week to not get out of bed.  Although I fear if I ever take such luxury, I may never return to living.  So, we press on.  We put our feet on the ground each morning and we do our work, love each other, look for ways to serve others, and keep making the next right choice.

And we try to enjoy the process of figuring out who we are now, without you by our side.  Three and a half years into this “newness” and I’m not sure any of us have fully found ourselves yet.  And that’s okay.  We will get there eventually. 

Our one constant, the solitary that has remained unchanged in your absence is the presence of God.

He is enough.  I trust Him to redefine each of our roles in this life in His perfect timing.

For today, I’m allowing the missing and the sorrow to wrap itself around me for a bit.  Then, tonight, I will fold it up and tuck it away until the next time.  It’s how I do this life now.  And that’s okay too.   

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.

Being Present in Our Now

 

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself."

Matthew 6:.34 ESV

Breathe deeply.

 

Smile genuinely.

Find beauty in every single day.

Be grateful.

Laugh.

Start living in the now.

I know how some days this comes easier than others.  I am walking this very same road myself.

And I am raising children on it.  I recently shed tears with my teenage daughter over how she won't have her Daddy to walk her down the wedding aisle.  She is fifteen and she shared that she almost dreads her wedding day because of what has been lost and who will be missing.

My heart splinters in new places I didn't even know had not previously been shattered.

Life changes suddenly.

We have faced catastrophic loss. We know deep hurt and unrelenting sorrow.

We can choose to remain in the pain, being paralyzed by the fear of nothing ever being good again, focusing on all the events he will be missing from, that are yet to come.  Wallowing in the exhaustion of facing these future moments as our sadness steals their joy before they even have a chance to occur. 

OR

We can start taking steps towards BEING PRESENT IN OUR NOW.

Because, dreading the future without him won’t bring him back. It won’t make the days to come any easier.  What it is guaranteed to do though, is steal us from our now.  It will suffocate the current right out of us as the days will pile upon themselves until we have missed living.

We’ve lost enough. Let’s not choose to give more to death than it has already taken.

So together, let's pause.

Breathe deeply.

{The Spirit of God has made me and the breath of the Almighty gives me life. ~Job 33:4}

Smile genuinely.

{A cheerful look brings joy to the heart. ~Proverbs 15:30a NLT}

Find beauty in this day that is before us.

{This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. ~Psalm 118:24}

Be grateful.

{Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

~1Thessalonians 5:18}

Laugh.

{She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. ~Proverbs 31:25}

Let's make the choice to start being present in our now.

My daughter's wedding day will arrive sometime in the next decade or so.  And yes, her Daddy will be missing from the day.  And yes, we will be achingly aware of that missing.  But dreading it now isn't going to change his lack of presence, it will only steal peace from today.  We will find a way to honor his place in her life and heart, and it will be a beautiful celebration.  He will have the best seat in the house, from heaven above.

We’ve lost enough. Let’s not choose to give more to death than it has already taken.

So together, let's pause.

Breathe deeply.

{The Spirit of God has made me and the breath of the Almighty gives me life. ~Job 33:4}

Smile genuinely.

{A cheerful look brings joy to the heart. ~Proverbs 15:30a NLT}

Find beauty in this day that is before us.

{This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. ~Psalm 118:24}

Be grateful.

{Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

~1Thessalonians 5:18}

Laugh.

{She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. ~Proverbs 31:25}

Let's make the choice to start being present in our now.

My daughter's wedding day will arrive sometime in the next decade or so.  And yes, her Daddy will be missing from the day.  And yes, we will be achingly aware of that missing.  But dreading it now isn't going to change his lack of presence, it will only steal peace from today.  We will find a way to honors his place in her life and heart and it will be a beautiful celebration.  He will have the best seat in the house, from heaven above.

LIVE RIGHT NOW, Trust God Has Your Tomorrow

Even when it feels like life isn't going "as planned".

Even if you've made mistakes you can't imagine Him redeeming.

Even though you have walked through loss that seems impossible for Him to provide restoration in.
...

He has already made a path for your future. The tree has been planted. Your future needs will be met.

Learn to rest in the now, forgive the past, and have hope for the "next".

Don't waste time regretting what has been nor dreading what will be.

LIVE RIGHT NOW, EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. Find the joy here. Trust God has your tomorrow.

 

Accepting No

Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty,

for all that is in the heavens and in the earth is yours. 

Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as the head above all. 

1 Chronicles 29:11 (ESV)

May I share a secret with you?

Sometimes I get tired of hearing the “feel good” narratives…even from the Christian community.

So often the stories told are ones of victory.  Stories where people prayed for years and God granted them their request.  I have those in my own life too; years of prayer where God eventually said, “Yes”.  Our children are a result of such prayers through years of failed adoptions and infertility.  I am grateful.  But guess what?

I also have stories of years of prayer where God said, “No”.  
Why don’t we hear more of those? 
Why are those stories not shared as beautiful tapestries of immense faith as well?

I’d love for someone to share how their life fell apart and they fought to still keep their eyes on Jesus, right in the midst of the chaos and yuck. How they don’t know the “why” and they don’t see the reason for their loss or pain.  That it doesn’t feel at all like God “chose” this outcome for the good of anyone, yet they still trust He will make good from it for eternal purposes.

I want to raise my hand and shake my head in affirmative solidarity that THIS STINKS and know that it is okay to hate the situation yet still adore God. That it is normal to have to work hard at finding the joy in all circumstances we are commanded to have; a discipline of joy rather than a natural response.

I guess I selfishly want to know someone else thinks they got totally cheated, that this isn’t fair. I want to not be handed a blanket of “it’s for the best” when I have two children in this home being raised without their daddy who was madly in love with them.

I guess my whole point to this thought pattern is…it is okay. We don’t have to have it all figured out in our accepting no from God.

Life doesn’t have to tie up in a pretty bow for it to have meaning and depth.

Our faith isn’t less than someone's who received an answer of “yes”.  As a matter of fact, having lived through both “yes’s” and “no’s”, I’d have to say in my personal case, my faith is stronger from the “no” journey than it was from the “yes”.

I recently heard a question on the radio.

“Do you believe God is in control?”

I repeated it aloud to myself. Really stopping to question, do I believe God is in control of ALL when Tim still died a horrendous death from cancer?  A death that God could have prevented, but chose not to; a death that ripped the hearts of many people (but especially the three of us) to shreds in grief…do I believe God is in control of THAT?

I turned off the radio and drove in silence.

Yes.

Yes, I do believe God is in control. I believe He has the power to do anything He desires.  He is in control but He is not a controlling God.  There is a difference.  His eye is on eternity.  He is faithful.  On this earth we are guaranteed struggles and pain.  One of their purposes is to draw us closer to Him and to direct our focus to eternity.

So here I stand, sharing my “No” story and still raising my hands in honor to the God who is in control; the Faithful One who doesn’t equate my faith with an earthly happy ending, but instead equates it with the blessing of knowing Him better.

Father God, it is extremely possible that I will never understand the "No" answers this side of heaven, but I still call upon Your name as Faithful.  Thank You that You are less concerned with my desire to have all the answers and are more concerned with my eternal relationship with You.  I trust You even when I don't like the answers.  My story is no less relevant than stories with "yes's". Amen.