New Beginnings.....New Hope.......Sunday is Here!

Today my son chose to be baptized in the faith.  Today, it was not only symbolic of his life with Jesus but it also meant he is ready to step forward in a new life.  We have lived in our Saturday for a long time now.  We have lived between Good Friday and the questions of loss and pain.  The place of realizing that the future was not going to look like we had planned.  The place of wondering how God was going to rewrite our future.  The place of despair.  We have never lost the faith.  We know God is in control but we have no idea what that is going to look like.  We can't even envision it.  We can't even imagine the complete unknown.  We can't see the resurrection of our lives.  The new beginnings.  The new hope.  Today we tried to grab it.  We took this Easter Sunday and stepped out in faith.  We are ready for new.  We are trusting God.  Samuel took it to a full level publicly choosing baptism.  He said I am ready to accept the resurrection and the next that God has ordained for me.  He said it is time to leave Saturday and live in the Sunday.  He reminded me that there is so much life still to live and it is best to follow the path the Lord has laid out for us.  He reminded me  that it is time to put my faith in action.  He reminded me that Jesus died so we could live.  Every step is scary but I am developing a great anticipation for what is next. 

Pastor Bill whispered in his ear how proud his father would be of him.

New Beginnings.......Let's Do This Thing.

Guilt

So were sitting at the table talking and somehow Rocky's funeral became the topic of conversation.  I shared that I wished we had filmed the entire receiving line.  I wanted to see who was there and what my reaction was to each person.  I don't know why, perhaps because I have been doing a lot of self-reflecting lately about myself and relationships in my life.

My oldest begins to cry.  First, he said he is glad there are no pictures because he doesn't want to remember that day.  I began to ask why and figure out where he was coming from.  He was feeling guilty.

You see, our church set up a room off the sanctuary for the kids.  It was filled with snacks and games.  The kids stayed in that room for most of the receiving line time.  I thought it was a gift that my children were occupied so I could attend to the business at hand.  As a child came through the line, I advised them where the children were.  All the children seemed to be relieved to leave the room where the guy was lying in the coffin.  Uncomfortable for adults, can only imagine how my children's friends felt.  Anyway,  in that room people had their ipods, kindles, phones or whatever other device they had stuffed in their pockets.  Most of my children stayed in that room the whole time.  We had a private viewing as a family (another topic) and they walked back in with me at the beginning of the service (we did not want to witness the lid being closed on the coffin).

The guilt.  Apparently that room was fun.  He should not have had fun and smiled at his fathers funeral.  What kind of person has fun at their own fathers funeral.  I told him, his dad would have been in that room playing games too if he could.  That his dad and all the other people understood  the internal struggle and no one judged or thought anything of it.  He just cried and said, "I had fun at my own dad's funeral".  I have no idea how to make that guilt go away.

I pray he finds peace with it.

I hope he understands that everyone understood.

I hope he realizes that laughter is medicine.

I don't want him to carry this guilt.

I am sad he feels this way.

Guilt can be powerful.

Waves of Grief

When I first became a widow and began reading on the subject, I saw the phrase Waves of Grief a lot.  It reminded me of the song, “waves of mercy, waves of grace, everywhere I look I see your face.”  This is a positive thing.  A reminder that God is always there willing and ready to take us into his loving arms. 

Waves of Grief are different.  They are debilitating.  They completely take your breath away and you don’t see them coming.

Yesterday, I walked into the Royal Ranger Pinewood Derby with the kids.  I knew where we were going.  I knew it was one of Rocky’s favorite events.  He worked hard as it approached every year.  He wanted the boys to have great cars.  I always reminded him it was the boys’ event, and the boy’s cars.  Who was I kidding?  It was his!  Anyway, I walked in and felt something was off.  The boys checked in and I immediately had to step into the restroom to compose myself.  You see, a wave a grief hit me in that room.

Imagine this…..you are standing on the beach talking to a friend and just really aren’t paying much attention.  Maybe, a wave hits and you are all of a sudden wet and didn’t mean to be.  The wave just took on more strength than the ones before it.  Take it a step further…….you are letting the waves crash on your legs and all of a sudden you are knocked off your feet and a wave crashes over you.  You try not to panic and work to float to the top and regain your bearings.  It is scary.  Finally, you are to the top and breathing again but there seems to be a rip tide.  You can’t make it back to shore.  You know you are supposed to swim parallel to the beach until you have control.  You do that but your heartrate is up and you are nervous.  Does the lifeguard see me?  Will they come if I can’t make it? Ahhh…..the sweet feeling of sand between your toes.  You start to breathe again but you are looking at the ocean with a whole new sense of awe.  A respect for its power over you.  As much as you love it you are reluctant to dabble your toes in the water again.  You spend the day thinking about it and remembering the need to breath.

That surprise.  That, whoa….didn’t see that coming sense of awe.  That need to be in control again.  That inability to function at full capacity for the rest of the day.  That is what a wave of grief feels like.

Back to yesterday, that wave crashed over me the minute we entered the room.  I spent hours swimming along the shore.  I caught two of my boys with tears in their eyes and knew they were swimming just as hard as I was.  We didn’t talk because we knew that was place we didn’t want to go in that moment.  But we understood each other.

We got in the car and I simply said, “That was hard.”  They said, “Yup.”  Thankful we survived current and praying the next wave will have a little more mercy and grace.

A year later

This year I have learned a lot.  Here are some thoughts.

1.  Widow Fog is for real.  I have never lost or misplaced so many things in my life.  I honestly have no clue where things go.  It is waaaaaay worse than pregnancy brain so don't tell me you can relate. 

2.  The word friend is used very loosely in our world.  There really are few who stick with you but the few that do are gems that need to be treasured.  They are not who you may expect them to be either.

3.  Love a widows kids, love the widow.

4.  People say dumb things, try to see their heart and move on.  They truly know now what they do.

5.  People run from pain.  They aren't sure what to do so they do nothing.  They don't mean to.  Again, they know not what they do or don't do.

6.  Please don't ask a widow to call if she needs you, she's not calling.  Look for the need and just fill it, even if she protests.  Silently, she is so thankful for you. 

7.  Living with regrets is pointless.  Try to not have any.  I know easier said than done.

8.  Counseling is a good thing.  My counselor has helped me process, works with me with strategies for my kids, gives me advice.  She is so special, sometimes I forget I am paying her to listen:)

9.  Take pictures.  Take them of the good and the bad.  I regret having no pictures of the funeral.  Sounds strange.  Nope, that was the manifestation of his life.  Film the service, take still shots.  Record it all, especially for the children.  They won't remember the details and honestly, neither will you (remember the widow's fog?).

10.  Live the legacy.  Rocky left an amazing legacy in his children and his friends.  I will do my best to honor that and more forward.  God is not done with us and he is not done with Rocky's life influencing us.  Press on and love big.

11.  Decide what church means to you.   I have learned that people, many of which do not worship in the same place as me on Sunday mornings are the church.  The church is the sky.  The church is my rocking chair. The church is my tears.  The church is me.  Perhaps I have learned not to put expectations on the institution.  The institution and its people will offend if you let them.  Find your own peace with your maker.

12. God is still on the throne.  Always will be.  He has been my provider and comforter.  He will see me through this and has great plans for me and my children. 

Rings

Several months after Rocky died I wondered how long the average widow keeps her rings on.  So in true, fashion I researched it.  I found that it varies.  I know, who needs research to know that.  I learned that some people move their rings to chains and wear around their necks.  Some just put them away and some sell them to remove the memories.  I wasn't sure any of those options worked for me.  I hit a place at about 8 months post loss where I looked at the rings often and realized that although I still loved Rocky deeply, I was no longer married.  I no longer had a partner doing life with me.  I didn't remove the rings, but I looked at them often and contemplated their meaning.

Then a breakdown came.

Over the Christmas break from school, I wept a lot.  I processed the loss of his life.  I processed the loss of dreams.  I processed the change in my future.  One night while I was sobbing in bed the rings came off.  It was symbolic of the tears.  The loss.  The changes in my life.  This was 10 months post loss.  I started to really look towards tomorrow.  I started to embrace my now.  I shed tears of change.

Here I am a month later.  The rings still sit on my nightstand.  The marks of almost 23 years of wear still show on my finger although it is starting to fade.  Even when the mark on my finger is gone, the mark on my life will be forever.  Things have changed.  I have changed.  My kids have changed.

In all the change, we are learning.  We are moving forward.  We have new symbols that represent all that was and all that will be.

Offense

We are told that offense can block all of our blessings.  Offenses happen, we are not to pick them up.  It is called the Bait of Satan.  I am struggling not to be offended.  There are people that I put expectation on during this trial  in my life and they did not meet those expectations.  I know Pastor Mark says expectations lead to disappointment which lead to offense.  Don't put expectations on people and then  they can't fail you.  I am human.

There are people in my life that seemed to disappear when this got tough.

There are ministries that ignored my hurt and pain.

There are "prayer warriors" who never prayed with me.  They claimed to pray for me, but never with me (even when asked).

There were opportunities to make me feel valued that went unnoticed.

This is not a post where I will counter with the blessings that have happened.  The truth is most of them were provision.  A need I know.  I am talking about the people who could have been there for me.  Shoulders to cry on.  Peace in the storm.  My needs have been met for my children and my home.

I have felt deserted as a woman.  I am offended.

My prayer is to not let this jade me to much.  I am asking that somehow I can find grace for the offenders.  A few have hurt me deeply.  I know people are busy with their own lives and for me to expect to be a priority to them is selfish.  I guess I feel like selfish was ok during this season.  I have learned how to be something better to others.

Praying against the offense. 

It is hard to do.  I feel it deeply.

Year of the Lord

Last year at this time Pastor Bill preached on Isaiah 61 and declared 2014 to be the year of the Lord's favor.  Rocky and I grabbed that message.  We were in a dark place.  We had just moved to Gumboro.  In a last stitch effort to save everything.  Our home.  Our finances.  Our children's schooling.  Our future. 

We knew the move we were making was in direct obedience to the Lord.  I was not happy about the move.  I was so scared.  I was so unsure.  The only think I knew for sure was that it was the Lords will for us.  That, and Rocky was so very excited.  His only doubt was my hesitation.  For me, the obedience to the Lord and the submissiveness to my husband was very hard.  If you know me you know those are two traits I struggle with!

As you can imagine I now am filled with questions.  Why did we settle in there for Rocky to leave me less than two months later?  Why did I never fully submit?  Living in that house was the last big argument we had, exactly one week prior to his death.  Why did I continue to argue when I knew it was the Lords will and his love?  Why did I have to make things so tense?  Why couldn't I rejoice in his happiness?  What about the Lord's favor?

Well, after Rocky died I had decisions to make.  The first was the home.  The Lord released me from Gumboro and sent me back to the home Rocky and I lived in for 22 years.  I was able to bring all bills current and no longer live under the financial strain that had haunted Rocky and I.  Through the insurance, social security and selfless giving of others, I was financially stable for the first time in a very long time.  I ended up putting two of my children in private school where they are thriving, not just surviving.  I still have a hope and a future, just have no clue what it looks like.

You see, God did grant me his favor in 2014.  Would I trade it for a different path with Rocky?  Sure I would.  I will never understand but I know that the Lord has quite literally held me in the palm of his hands.  If not, I would have fallen for sure.  I am thankful for his favor, his comfort, his provision, his love.  I pray that all of this helps me to be better at loving people. 

After all, that's what living is really about.