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 Choice of Leaning In

My husband said it often, especially in his final months. 

“Lean hard into Jesus.”

I watched him live this out right before my very eyes, the choosing where to lean hard.

He was physically miserable.  The cancerous tumor had literally eaten through his face, pain was a constant, and he hadn’t possessed the ability to swallow even his own saliva for well over an entire year. 

He could have been bitter. 

He could have been hateful to me as his primary caregiver.

He could have lost his sense of humor.

I’m pretty sure if our roles had been reversed, I would have done all of the above plus more!

He did not. 

He would have so easily been excused by this world if he had chosen to lean as far away from God during his unfair and ugly cancer battle.  So very easily excused;

“Justified”, some might say.

“Expected”, others might offer. 

But he did not lean into sin. 

He did not lean into self-pity.

He did not lean into the lies of this world or the one who spreads them.  

Tim Streller CHOSE TO LEAN HARD INTO JESUS.

And in doing so, his legacy was magnified into an incredible story of dependence on Christ. 

He chose to live for Jesus instead of living for himself.

He led our family by example.  During the most difficult journey imaginable for him, he led with dignity and wisdom and he LEANED INTO JESUS.

This Thanksgiving holiday, I am beyond grateful for a husband who showed me not only how to lean in, but WHOM to lean into.

2 Corinthians 5:15 “And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.”

Loneliness (as featured on A Widow's Might)

Widows experience a loneliness indescribable to those living outside of our bubble.

It’s a simple reality of being the one left to continue living when the other half of us has gone.

The knowing of someone else so deeply and the being known; ahhhh, I miss it so.

Whether we are standing in a crowd or sitting in the privacy of our bedroom; the attacks of loneliness feel just the same.  We didn’t just lose our spouses.  We lost dreams of our future and the comradery of joint memories from our past.  It is such a unique aloneness to experience.

What I find as the days progress is that the loneliness doesn’t seem to care about the boundaries I’ve tried to place on it.  It creeps around barriers and seeps its way into all the crevices of my shattered heart.

As the months continue, the loneliness morphs; sometimes it is still acute and breath-stealing, others it is a dull ache pulsing behind the backdrop of my life, and there are now, finally, moments I am completely free from its powerful grip.

So how do we cope with this pain?  How do we choose to live victoriously amidst the ruins of a lonely life?  Because ladies, I believe whole heartedly that God intends for us to live fulfilling lives.  He desires for us to serve Him with gladness and live well this life we have been gifted with.

Once I truly identified loneliness for what it is, embraced the difficulty of the emotions and allowed the salty tears to roll unashamedly down my cheeks; that is when my healing began.  I cried out to God and He answered me with the truths found in His Scriptures.

Psalm 147:3  He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
Matthew 28:20  And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

And here is where I’ve landed, soaking in His grace and love for me.

Romans 8:35, 39  Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?  nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
 Deuteronomy 31:6  Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.

Sisters, while it is true that we have lost the physical presence of our earthly love, we can never lose the affection of our Father God.  Do you hear that?  We can NEVER lose the love of God.  Nor can we shake His presence.  {Deep sigh of relief.}  Our feelings of loneliness are very real, but they cannot always be trusted.  God’s holy Word is where we must place our trust. 

We are never alone in our loneliness.

Will you open yourself up for Him to minister to your heart today?  He is a God of limitless creativity.  He loves you extravagantly and individually.  Commit your mind to Him this morning.  Hand Him the depths of your heart for safe keeping.

Give Him your all and watch Him transform the overbearing loneliness into something to be used for His glory. 

Friends, we are here for a season and for a reason.  Let's dig deep into His Word and find comfort right where we are.

Oh, how He loves you.

Birthday Reflections October 3, 2015

Forty-four years ago today I was born.

Twenty-two years ago today I celebrated this day with a new boyfriend who would turn out to be my husband.

Fifteen years ago today I was freshly home from the hospital and now a mother of two.  One 16-month old toddler and one 6-day old preemie.

Four years ago today was my last passionate kiss with my husband, as his sore throat continued to worsen and the cancer ran rampant.

Three years ago today I sat surrounded by friends and family as Tim underwent a gruesome 23 hour surgery as our last tiny chance at chasing the healing that would not be ours.

One year ago today I celebrated my first birthday in over two decades without him by my side.

Today, the kids and I went to our new home and wrote Scripture on the foundation and framing. We prayed over it and dedicated it to the Lord with extremely grateful hearts for the ability to have a safe place to lay our heads at night and make new family memories.

Today has been bittersweet for me. Lots of joyful memories, fun new laughter, and lots of tears. Lots and lots of tears. I didn't expect this intense grief wave today, but as Tim would say, "It is what it is."

Thank you for the birthday wishes. I am blessed by a God who loves me deeply, provides friends to walk alongside of me in this life, and carries me on the rough days. I am covered by His feathers; tucked safely under the refuge of His wings.

Love is a gift that transcends time and location. I know to the marrow of my bones that I am loved by Tim Streller. Today, I just found myself wishing I could experience that love in the flesh again for a long hug.

Tonight, I rest my head on my pillow and have happy thoughts. I am excited for the future of our family. I am grateful. Tears will leak and grief will overtake me at times, but the laughter always returns and joy fills me up again.

God is good. Here is to whatever God has in store for me in this next year of life. May I live it well and glorify Him!

I used Tim's Bible to copy Scripture onto the foundation.

"Like I'm Gonna Lose You"

We are driving down the road with the radio blaring.  It's what we do.  Loud music makes me happy. It always has.  "Like I'm Gonna Lose You" by Meghan Trainor and John Legend comes on and my girl cranks it up even louder.  We smile and sing along at the top of our lungs.  The words begin to sink into the broken places of my heart.  Each little crevice is filled with a beautiful memory of the love affair her Daddy and I had for two decades.    

[Meghan Trainor]

I found myself dreaming in silver and goldLike a scene from a movie that every broken heart knowsWe were walking on moonlight, you pulled me closeSplit second and you disappeared and then I was all aloneWoke up in tears with you by my sideBreath of a leave and I realized,No one will promise tomorrow

[Chorus]

So, I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you,I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbyeForever will stay in, I won't take you for granted'Cause we'll never know it when we'll run out of timeSo, I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you,I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

[John Legend]

In a blink of an eye,Just a whisper of smokeYou could lose everythingThe truth is you're never aloneSo, I'll kiss you longer babyAny chance that I getI'll make the most of the minutesSo long with no regretLet's take our time to say what we wantHere's what we've gotBefore it's all gone'Cause no one will promise tomorrow

[Chorus]

So, I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you,I'm gonna hold you like I'm saying goodbyeForever will stay in, I won't take you for granted'Cause we'll never know it when we'll run out of timeSo, I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you,I'm gonna love you like I'm gonna lose you

Tears begin to form and a large lump resides in my throat.  The song ends.  I turn down the volume and it takes me several seconds to compose myself before I can remotely trust my voice will even work.  I turn to our gorgeous, nearly 15 year old daughter with tears slipping down my cheeks I tell her, "This is the type of love I want for you and your brother to one day find.  THIS is the kind of love your Daddy and I had.  It's an all-out, self-sacrificial, best-friendship with a deep, honest, living-large kind of total and complete love.  And it makes for a beautiful life."

Loving fully.  Not holding back.  Living in each moment and cherishing each other.  These are things you will never regret.  DO THEM.  

So friends, if you are blessed enough to have someone special by your side in this life...LOVE THEM LIKE YOU'RE GONNA LOSE THEM.  Don't miss an opportunity to show them you value and respect them.  Don't waste time focusing on the petty, let those things fall aside and JUST LOVE THEM.  Enjoy them.  Encourage them.  Be their biggest cheerleader and their best secret keeper.  Be their safe place to land in a world of chaos, stress, and pressure.  Be their 'home".   

I assure you, you won't regret choosing to love deeply.  I know I don't.  

What a pure honor it was to be married to my best-friend.  We loved deeply.  We didn't always get it right.  Who does?  But, it was good.  It was better than good.  It was a breath-taking whirlwind romance and it was worth it!         

Grief is a Messy Casserole (As Seen on A Widow's Might)

"I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy." Job 29:13 {ESV}

Grief doesn’t follow an outline or a formula. Sure, there are stages to experience, but I have found that even those are more of a jumbled mess than a straight line to follow or a checklist to complete.

Grief is as unique and complex as the individual experiencing it.

I thought I knew how this grief game was going to play out. After all, there are plenty of books and published steps or stages for us to refer to. We had a few years notice that death was coming.

Let’s be clear, I don’t believe we will ever be fully healed from our grief in this life until Jesus returns.  None of us. I do believe we will learn to live beside and around it, that somehow it is possible to not be consumed by it.  This is what I am referring to when I reference “healing."

As “prepared” as I was for my husband’s passing, I could never have imagined how jumbled and chaotic the grief process would be. I knew grief would be a heavy blanket in our home. I knew that we would alternate kicking off those covers with snuggling under the heaviness of them.

What I did NOT mentally process until we were in the middle of the mess was the individual journeys progressing at their own pace yet existing all under the same roof.  Nor the very real fact that we weren’t each experiencing grief stages individually or collectively.  It was a mish-mash of emotions in three individual lives interacting with each other.  And most days it was suffocating for me.

Instead of making our way through the stages at our own pace, it felt much more like we were being force fed a nasty, casserole-mix of all the emotional grief stages--huge, overloaded spoonfuls of the grossest hodge-podge of cupboard ingredients tossed together and set in the oven to bake at 350 degrees for an hour then served tongue-scorching hot.  I kept thinking in my head, "Where is my checklist of stages? How can I possibly minister to my children in their grief when I can’t even sort out my own emotions?"

I guess I share this with you ladies because just maybe, a few of you have found grief to be less textbook and more messy casserole. I want to encourage you that it does get better.  The grief does become something that we can live with.

It takes determination and bravery to step out from under the heaviness of grief's weight, to get rid of the nasty aftertaste that lingers.  We are approaching the two year mark and the kids and I are living proof that through God’s mercy and strength, it can be done.

We are not “cured."

We are not “healed” in the traditional sense of the word.

But we are on the journey to healing in the ways that matter.

We are striving to live beautiful and full lives in spite of our grief.

Do the work, sisters.  Whether your grief is neat and orderly, following the stages outlined or is a nasty clump of yucky casserole you are choking on.  Keep leaning on Jesus.  Keep processing the emotions as they come.  Keep moving forward.

Healing is possible.

Lord God, thank You that You long to make the widows heart sing for joy.  Oh what a marvelously tender and loving God You are to us.  Your love and grace are the sweetest tastes we could ever experience.  Thank You for removing the bitter aftertaste of grief's casserole from our tongues and freeing us to worship You for the healing found in Your presence.  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/