Retesting

An imaginary ton of bricks weighs a lot and when they fall on top of you it is hard to catch your breath. Let me tell you what I mean by that. Last evening I was packing up some of Steve’s things, organizing them into a sturdier box. I sorted through the condolence cards and decided to read them again seven weeks post. I thought for sure I would be alright, but it really hit me like a ton of bricks and I couldn't catch my breath from bawling so much. Some of the cards from strangers were so kind and I was touched that they would take the time to send a card. I found that I was embarrassed that I didn’t remember who had cared enough to send us such sweet cards like it was my job to remember all this.  I found thank you notes which came in our funeral package, I think.  I got mad at myself because I haven't thought about them and realized I may never send one to everyone because some of the envelopes with addresses weren't here among the funeral remains.

Steve's obituary put me into a sobfest again. This was more torture than helpful, I think. Earlier that day I had thought about wanting Steve's obituary  to put into my bible and this started the repacking of Steve's things. I am amazed I had the presence of mind to put it all together in one place so I could stuff in a box somewhere. I don’t think I have cried that hard since the day of the actual memorial service. I guess this is what I get for having a day off yesterday. I had thought it had gone so well, and really I guess God rested me because I needed a good cry again since I have been stuffing my tears down until after I get my work done.

After I packed the box and put it away I sat down to watch a Christmas program last night. It made me cry all over again. I think I might be scared of losing it again at Christmas. I don't want to ruin my favorite holiday.  I keep throwing up barriers in my mind with distracting thoughts of house issues so I don’t have to think about the upcoming holidays.  This is why I want to be away from people and why I want to be around people. I know crazy, huh? I don’t want to be the sad one who people look at with pity about my awful holiday situation. The looks, the whispers, the attention is unbearable and makes me reflect back on my circumstances and then the self pity is right there trying to take hold again. I am fearful of wallowing in it because it is such a strong negative emotion that can really stall my progress.

Yes I suppose it could be a pride issue too, I am a proud woman and I am always the one who wants to be strong for everyone else. My parents brought me up to be that way. I remember being told several times that since I was the oldest I needed to set an example, so perhaps this is why I am so strong now. Throughout my childhood I hated those words because it usually meant I did something wrong, but now I see how it helped to strengthen me for the life ahead of me. Steve and I had some rough patches and my resolve to stick things out helped to keep us together and strengthened our relationship. So I am relying on that strength, developed through adversity and patient endurance to pull me along. It has become a part of me and my strength bound to the strength of my heavenly Father, has and will continue to get me through everything. This I know for certain.

Some people wonder about why they go through certain traumas. Some tests are harder than others, each test perfectly suited to the make and model of the person being tested. Just as we all have different unique fingerprints, I think our tests in life are the same thing, specifically crafted for us. I wouldn’t say God is up there playing with our lives like a chess game, but more like a loving Father throwing you into the pool to swim, after he has taught you the strokes of course. We need to learn how to swim, it is a necessary survival skill which is why our father throws us into a pool. He is always standing by coaching, encouraging and sticking out his hand when we need him. I think about some of the tests I have failed, or thought I failed. I went back to the books of life, studied more and waited for my retest. There is always an opportunity to pass and some tests take longer to pass than others. Some saints pass them very quickly but alas I am a chronic re-tester and I really think mom dropped me on my head a few times.

This test I have studied for several times. I can say this will be the third new beginning for me, the only difference being is this time I walk it alone. This test deals with trust and security of which I leaned mostly on Steve for over these past years. There were times Steve didn’t have a job, or was battling depression or some other issue, this is when I turned to God more and more. I removed my trust in Steve where it didn’t belong and put it on God. I said “God, as our one true spouse I am trusting in you to take care of our financial issues, job security issues and any other issues that comes up”.  Steve and I both did this and we released life's burdens to God to deal with and removed our misplaced security in the world to security in God only. During most of my married life, I looked to Steve to be my provider and should have been looking to God. When we finally removed our eyes from him and moved them up higher, things turned around for us. You see Steve looked to me for security also, nearly to the point of smothering me so we were an anchor around each other’s neck until we sorted it out. Then life became fun and new again, and the burden lighter.

I don’t like grief and I hated taking tests in school but they are a part of life. There are so many times I have grieved for different things or people in my life. A boyfriend broke up with me once and I tortured myself with sad songs so I could bawl my eyes out and feel sorry for myself. It was so ridiculous, but it was how a teen ager dealt at that time. I grieved when my grandparents died, it hurt a lot but I moved on too. I recognize that this is more personal and may take a bit more time, but it will not incapacitate me. Life goes on, people lose loved ones every day, I am not special in that. It is a part of life I must deal with and the sooner I deal with it, the sooner I can move onto the next level. The good news is I am moving and studying hard.

Gimme a Break

Why is it so hard to be motivated right now? My kids are coming, Christmas is coming, and my house needs selling what more motivation could I need? So here I sit, blogging my brains out again. My get up is gone again. I can only move boxes around the house so long, and then I need a break. I don’t normally take so many breaks, maybe they are emotional breaks and my body is in overdrive saying, you’re done for now, walk away, and regroup. I keep thinking how freaked out Steve would be to see my messy house right now. I will never lie and say I have always kept a clean house, but it looked much better than it does now. I can’t find anything anymore and it is a direct reflection of my brain right now.

I have managed to stack things that are super important to me and my direct needs in my bedroom, in a place I can easily access. So what once was a sanctuary is now a war zone. I am not multitasking as well as I once did, and this bothers me. I can focus on one big thing at a time. I once was able to talk on the phone and do mundane thoughtless tasks like washing dirty dishes or folding clothes and on good days play a game on the computer. Now when the phone rings, I have to sit down and visit with the caller or else I lose my place in this mess. I found a dirty dish in the refrigerator I guess I was bringing it to the sink while I was on the phone. It has been the hardest adjustment to me right now, sitting and talking through a call when I used to do so much of the boring tasks of life while on the phone with Steve.

You have to understand, Steve called me so many times during the day that it was hard to do anything else. It really was my job to be his lifeline so to speak. Our conversations kept him awake, kept him from extreme boredom and I suspect in his mind kept me from running off on him. Steve heard too many hard luck truck driver stories on the road about men married as long as we were or even longer than us, whose wives found other men or drugs while they were driving. He was insecure and I knew it, so we kept the lines of communication open all day and night, much like a truck stop. If you knew Steve, you know I listened mostly which is why I got so much housework done on the phone I guess. I didn’t listen as well as I should have and now I have to be fully engaged in the conversation. Well I suppose that explanation works for me. Deep down he knew I would never leave him, but he felt he was missing out on our life together.

Ok so now I am seeing the benefit to blogging it out. I know why I can’t talk on the phone and do other things, now we need to figure why I continue to feel like I am chasing my tail. I go from room to room, looking at the packed up boxes.  I am restructuring left over piles from the yard sale, sorting boxes to keep with me, boxes to put in the shed to store for my two youngest kids and sorting out stuff to stage a house for selling.  A friend offered the suggestion to use color coded stickers and to make a list with the key to it. My problem with that beautiful idea is I couldn’t find the list tonight or my shopping list for ThanksChristmas. I let it be okay and walked away but I am having issues with my memory. I used to pride myself on being a creative thinker who in her heyday would have thought about wearing an apron to keep up with the markers and tape I have been losing around the house. I can’t tell you how many times I laid them down and still can’t find them. I have resorted to face book to help me solve my issues. I type my exasperated status onto face book and voila my good friends think for me and give me the useful ideas I once could have thought of on my own. I do get by with a little help from my friends, don't I?

I haven’t begun the deep cleaning process yet. My family will just have to over look that and I’m sure they will. I haven’t even listened to one beloved Christmas tune because I haven’t given it a thought yet. This is my favorite holiday; I have to get motivated if not for me, for my kids and my little Hannah. I am hosting this event, I have a makeshift tree, some candles and presents in bags. You have no idea how low key my holiday decorating is this year. I have my closet crammed with my Christmas decorations and refuse to unpack a box in the midst of packing so many. I would love to indulge myself and get creative and deck my halls, but who has time when so much else needs to be done?

Is this my instinct kicking in, protecting me from being too overwhelmed? When I got overwhelmed Steve always said to me “How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time”. I want you to know it takes a long time to eat such an enormous beast. The meat is tough and I believe it is taking me so long that the meat is beginning to spoil. I have invited some of my family and friends to dine with me, and they have helped whittled him away somewhat, but after they leave, the big stinky thing is still here in my house, in my life!

Ok, I believe that is called anger and denial. I don’t like elephant, I never did it is too large a cut of meat for me. I would rather have a smaller animal, say a cow. I don’t want this in my life and forcing me to eat it is making me sick.  One of my favorite sayings is “that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” well it could also make you sick while building up immunities like when you have an immunization, fever or swelling occur sometimes. I know people who get sick from a flu shot, but it is a better sick than if they get the actual flu they are immunized against.

Denial says if I keep busy, I don’t have to work so hard at realizing this is reality. I am not much of a crier or else I would probably be sitting in my living room floor bawling right now. Instead, I turn in circles steady pressing on at the task of chewing the elephant, but taking more breaks than most people in the entire universe. My protective mantle, God, breaks me, so I can give myself a break. Perhaps this too is revelation from my blog today. Don’t get down on yourself, my beloved, take a break, walk away, regroup as the mantle draws tighter around my shoulders and I reach out for help on Face book. Friends, you are there for a reason and I appreciate your responses (hugs) when I reach out. I don’t have the time to jump in the car and I don’t have people in close proximity to me right now. So I say hooray for facebook, they help me get by with a little help from my friends. Hey I could be a commercial for them.

The Widow's Mantle

I had to get out of bed this morning, nature called Millie, and she called me. So I got up and let my prayer dog out into the cold morning air, then ran back to warmth of my bed. For that brief time, my bed had remained warm but I felt the cold cling to my face and I could feel it attacking, trying to get in. Many times I take a hot tub bath, my body just gets so toasty warm as I soak away the day’s weariness, then I get out, towel off and remain warm for a while before the cold infects me and I reach for my robe. The key is when my core temperature is regulated I am good. I give this example because it is how I feel under this widow’s mantle of God. He is my perfect core temperature, and to remove myself from it causes such shivering in my soul that I can’t stand it. I am unable to function properly. I begin to suffer hypothermia of my soul and am unable to think straight, act right, or even pray properly. My exposed parts start to go numb and then begin to darken.

I used the think the mantle was only here in my house and didn’t leave the house with me. I felt so vulnerable at the store the first time I had to venture out, until I realized no one was shopping there who knew me to speak a word of condolence to me. It was then I realized my mantle was on my shoulders and came with me like a shawl. I had envisioned a mantle like a heavy blanket but it isn't, it is more like a shawl much more portable and fashionable.  Last week was six weeks since Steve died and it was the week I was pushed back out into the world again. I enjoyed my outings into town, almost daring people to come up to me so I could test myself and my tear response time. God again was kind, I met a fellow widow and some people from church people did pretty well. I did notice that I pulled the mantle tighter around my shoulders when I felt like I would fall to pieces. It was all part of my reentry process and he surrounded me with safe people.  God knew what I could process and this week my circle may widen again.

I love the closeness of God right now, He is so warm and comfortable and I really think I could try to take full advantage of His goodness much like a spoiled child. Daddykins could I have a pony, I feel so lousy right now (as I curl up in his lap tugging gently on his beard).  You know the manipulation technique. I think my daddy would give me that pony but how would I feed it? This is a trap I must be careful to avoid. God is even protecting me from myself right now. I am protected under this mantle, but my sin nature is still in here with me. So yes I struggle and try to keep the planning and thinking to God. He goes before me, behind me and beside me in everything and I trust him. I do not trust myself; I have a bad habit of not making wise decisions.

Oh and this mantle isn’t so heavy or too warm that I would want to remove it. This mantle is the perfect accessory to anything I wear and is always in style. It has many looks but mine happens to be a widow’s mantle right now. After walking in the coldness of the world for so many years I find that as I age I take a chill more quickly now. The cold gets deeper into my bones so I need to monitor my core temperature at all times. This helps keep my wits about me so I won’t be taken advantage of. I am aware that there are highwaymen out there, so I draw my mantle about me for protection against them and walk on. As I walk against the cold blasts of the world, my core remains warm, but my extremities are cold to the touch. My heart is always protected under this mantle so the rest of my body always warms up eventually. I am diligent about protecting my heart, the core of my being my relationship with the Father, because once it stops I will fall asleep and never wake up. I have to keep moving because hypothermia is sneaky and whispers to me about resting and giving up. I am careful to keep moving and try to rest when I need to. 

 Steve had such a beautiful mantle; he was so protected as he crossed this country in that big truck. He never had an accident but assisted people who had. His belongings contained several extra blankets for just such occasions. I asked him why he had so many blankets on the truck. He replied, "To put around people in shock after an accident".  He met so many people, and brought joy and comfort to those people God chose to bring into his path. You see he went fully under cover since his first heart attack. He only stepped where God told him to step, when he told him to step. He was walking blind and God led the way. Once or twice Steve tried to walk his own path, you see his sin nature was there with him too. He peeked out, and got slapped in the face so hard by the world that he wrapped that mantle around him twice.

We all need to be warm; the cold is not a comfortable place to be. Hypothermia lulls us to sleep so we can’t fulfill our destinies properly. We must keep our wits about us so we can help others realize they have a mantle too and they need just pull it up around them. Even if you feel your mantle has been tattered or is too dirty, it is still a source of warmth and protection. Pull it around you anyway, I bet it is nicer than freezing to death in the cold of the world. Besides, when you wake up out of your hypothermic sleep, our creator who never sleeps, will have repaired the mantle around you, or more likely given you a brand new one. He likes to replace dirty rags. Ever hear of beauty for ashes?

I Blog

Why do I blog and not jot this stuff down in my prayers journals as I have done for a few years now? I think subconsciously Steve will see them maybe. They are going out into the airwaves and like a message in a bottle, or a note released on a strong prairie wind, he may find this blog about him and know he is missed. It could be that God wants me to practice my typing skills for a job in my future, I don’t know but I am compelled to do this. For the two people out there who read them, enjoy them I do not know how long I will be doing this, I guess until I am blogged out. It really is quite cathartic though and I am enjoying the purging.

There is 29 years of life behind us and who knows how much left in me. Some things can’t be blogged about those private things will remain in my heart forever, but I want Steve to know he meant something to me and others. His life was meaningful and he fulfilled his destiny. He thought he was destined for other things, bigger things, but God had other plans. Small destinies are often the most powerful, remember David and Goliath. Dynamite does come in small packages and boom our life exploded with wonderment on a daily basis. It is in the smallest of moments and experiences that I have seen miracles within our lives.

My yard sale is over, I did fantastic and even if I didn’t I would say I did because of the wonderful people I met. Not only the people I met, but the supportive friends who trudged through this with me. It is a lot to ask anyone to wake before dawn, in the cold, to set junk outside for people to rummage through. What a witness to friendship, what a witness to family, what a witness to witness the whole day long. We were so exhausted, I could barely speak. For those who know me, that is a feat unto itself. I couldn’t look at the computer screen must less type. Today my son helped me in the morning move some of the heavy things around, then he had to leave. I plopped in my chair and couldn’t extract my behind from it. I feel so old and described my weariness to a friend as what a sink must feel like after the plug was removed and the water was drained.  I imagine I was so released from all the busyness of the last 6 weeks that I just crashed. I hope tomorrow I can hit the ground running again; I have ThanksChristmas to prepare for. I am excited the kids will fill my house again, for a fun time.

I wasn’t planning on putting up a tree this year, I really haven’t caught the spirit yet, but I did manage to piece some greenery together to compose a makeshift tree for my granddaughter. It is our of leftover yard sale stuff that I will throw away after next weekend. Hannah needs a tree no matter how ugly and I will decorate the bottom with gifts. My big concern is did I get gifts for everyone. I stopped in mid present buying and lost my place. I will have to figure this out as well. So I will continue to be busy, but it won’t be a pressing, and I don’t have a deadline.

It is weird seeing life going on despite everything. I am glad to move forward, but there are times I feel a twinge of guilt about it. Yes Steve I know it is how you would want it and all that stuff people say, but I have to say, it doesn’t seem right. There is a hole in our lives, there will be a hole in our holidays especially this year and I hate that. I hate that I will be hosting alone and you won’t be there to tell your stupid jokes, or make us laugh. I miss your laugh, and how your eyes lit up when you saw your kids. Wow, you are really gone from us, really. How many times will I say really gone? How much longer until it sinks in? I speak from exhaustion right now, and could use a back rub from you, so yes I miss you right now. You gave the best back rubs and selfishly I am missing them right now. I even feel a twinge of guilt for missing that small thing you did for me when my back hurt.

I blog because I’m happy, I blog because I’m sad, I blog because if I see it on paper it may become a reality to me. So darling if you catch a blog on the wings of some angel, read it so you will see how much you are missed by me, and not just for what you did for me in the form of back rubs. I miss your love and companionship not to mention your support. You held me up when I felt I was crumbling and I think I crumbled a bit today. I long to hear your voice again, I think I will go replay my answering machine again just to hear you. It sounds silly, but it brings me comfort and I can do it if I want to no matter how silly it seems. I only need it occasionally now like chocolate, it soothes me.

Small Moments

I am still amazed how quiet my phones have been. Don’t get me wrong, there were days I went without it ringing once and I loved those days. My phones have rung probably at least 3 times a day since all this happened. One of those calls is my mom, she has kept in touch everyday keeping watch over me from afar and I find comfort in our new routine. The other calls from friends, family, and solicitors whom I love to inform that Steve has died, so please don’t call again. This brings me a small sadistic pleasure to hear them stammer out their apologies as they promise to remove the name. Sorry I am usually not that mean but they tormented us and I find them especially intrusive right now. I don’t want to talk about a product or give to an organization right now. I usually dodged their calls, but now I pick up the phone just to tell them the bad news to torment them right back. Ok I may be dealing with anger issues associated with mourning, something about life going on, blah, blah.

There are some things I am extremely happy about life going on. My son getting married, our ThanksChristmas, events going on in my friends lives all great and keep me moving forward. Life goes on, but every once in a while I get angry or sad like when those solicitors take up the air time on the phone because they are filling in Steve’s time. They are replacing him and I don’t like it one bit. I confess also to being jealous and bite my tongue from saying “At least you have a husband” when someone tries to voice a complaint against their husbands right now. I know it is cruel, I would never say it to anyone, but I guess I am hypersensitive about that. We never realize how good we have it until something is taken from us. To be honest, I am complaining about Steve still, how his tool hording may bring me some extra money at the yard sale.

I miss my phone calls from him the most. The phone was our lifeline to each other. We talked so much on the phone, some days we had to go to the cell phones after depleting the two batteries in the portable house phones. I can’t say how many times I have picked up the phone to call Steve to tell him some news I knew he would want to hear. I have picked up the phone just to call to say good morning or good night only to hang it up, feeling empty. I miss having my morning and evening greeting partner. I know it sounds sad and pathetic, but it is in the little intimacies, when he is missed the most. We didn’t see each other much so when we were together we made the most of even the smallest moments together. He would stay awake and watch me sleep. I would wake up early and do the same, mostly listening to his breathing.

I miss him in the small times I guess since we didn’t get too many big event times together. I attended many family gatherings without him because he was usually working and unable to attend. I have to say I am most thankful we had our trip to Ireland last year. That was a huge event for us and we had lots of small moments together there.  I grew to respect his truck driving skills here more than ever and told him many times over. This was my man, and he was able to drive on the right side of the wrong side of their roads. He even extracted us from a very tight parking spot, on a hill, in our manual transmission car very late in the evening. We were parked facing downward on a steep hill. We were boxed in by two cars each parking less than a foot of clearance from us. Who parks that close to a person on a hill? I was ready   to throw in the towel and spend the night and just let them win this one. I was so frightened when Steve took up the challenge and proceeded to remove us from that tight spot. I refused to be in the car and covered my eyes for most of it, but I smelled rubber and clutch burning and heard some squealing.  I couldn’t tell whether it was tires squealing or me. It didn’t take long but he got out of that tight spot unscathed and like a knight in his shiny armored car, whipped over to where I was observing nervously, opened the door for me to get in and we drove off into the foggy Irish night. He had the biggest grin plastered on his face and was quite pleased with his accomplishment and the look of awe on my face.  He liked impressing me with his mad skills. Steve was my hero that night over something so small.

He was also my hero for pressing through so much pain to walk the scenic places with me there. Steve had sprained his ankle pretty badly about three weeks before our trip. It swelled up and stayed swollen for months, and I worried about him constantly, but he kept his pain hidden. While visiting the Cliffs of Moher the poor man had to sit down a lot that day because of the many stairs to climb and uneven trails to traverse. It was a hard day for him because he couldn’t take care of me like he wanted to. I scared him by going too close to the edge, even taunted him, I just wanted to see him concerned about me. It made me feel good to see him panic for my life. I was so mean to him up there but I felt so daring that day and just so excited about being with him in another country that I got stupid. I smile as I remember the panic in his voice about being too close to the edge; he was so cute being all scared about me. There I go again you see I really can be bad when I want to be.

Steve made me angry when he would say he was paving my road to heaven and would tell people I was a saint. Ha, as you can see by my tormenting ways with solicitors and on the cliff, it was the other way around, I paved Steve's way. I am the reason he is in heaven right now. God took pity on him. We had fun together when we could. I miss his companionship and our fun times and imagine I will miss them for quite some time.  Of course I have fun with family and friends don’t get me wrong, but it is a different kind of fun than with the love of your life.  I will admit that I am angry I won't have that anymore, it is sad and unfair. I am selfish and pitching a fit for him not being here and all I have lost, but I know it will pass as did all the temper tantrums my kids and I ever threw.  I am waiting for calm after the storm, it always comes.

Death Talk

A friend came by yesterday, he is also part of the LYSDC (Lost your spouse to death club my new name for widow). He asked if I had read any books on grief yet and I told him no. The truth is, I really don't want to read them I want to struggle through this hand in hand with God and filter everything through Him, but I did accept the offer of the books. If he gets them to me fine, if not that is great too. He surprised me with a statistic he had read that it takes one year of recovery for every six we were married. Lord I can' t do grief for five years, I have life to take care of. Ha there I go trying to manage my life again. Anyway, everyone grieves in different ways, and I believe recovers the same way. I am praying I'll be a quick healer and counting on it with the balm of Gilead I have in my possession.

I really wonder about the roller coaster of emotions I go through. I am happy, then melancholy, then sad, then giddy. But that pretty much is the way of my life anyhow. We had so many ups and downs through our married life that I pretty much could say, I was prepared for nearly anything. I never knew when or if the next drama was coming and have learned coping skills to counter them. So I am good there. I am able to leap away from emotions that tend to get me down pretty quickly too thanks to all the inner healing I have been through over my years here in Selma. It is like I hop  into the frying pan but jump back out avoiding the fire altogether, but never avoiding the heat. I have been seasoned with wisdom to weather this and I will of course be holding God's hand through it.

I recognize my limitations, I hope I am not pushing this all down like I used to do. I don't feel like I am because my mind doesn't race and do the crazy stuff like it used to. I am experiencing a freedom, an unburdening as I draw closer to God and allow him to carry it all for me. It really does make it nicer when someone helps out. Many hands make light work is an expression I love to quote so I am allowing people to help as much as they can right now. It is good for them and good for me. So many times I have felt helpless when someone was hurting an often thought if I only had a task to do for them, other than prayer of course. It is healing for both of us. I would never be able to do all this alone and I wouldn't want to, I would have caved in to extreme sorrow by now.

How can I be sorrowful, Steve died suddenly, quickly, hardly any pain at all I was told. He was not crucified, tortured, nor did he suffer an agonizing lengthy illness. He prayed for a quick death and God gave it to him. I love God for honoring his prayer and rejoice in knowing Steve really is in a better place now. I may struggle with jealousy, but really feel secure knowing he is waiting on me and is only a few minutes ahead of me, measured in eternity time of course. Some people don't believe heaven exisists, I am glad for my "delusion" of heaven to get me through this. Hope is always my best answer or else I wouldn't live life to its fullest. I would mope around in fear all the time, being paralysed by my fear of death and what awaits me after. I do not fear death, I welcome it as a part of the end of  this life. It means I am done and can move onto the next great adventure, my eternity.

I also pray for a quick death,  I don't like pain much, but if any of my suffering can help in the heavenly scheme of things, so be it. We all have our crosses to bear, this was mine and with God's help, it isn't too heavy. I really don't want to carry this big old thing without his help, why do that to myself? Most people avoid the talk of death, like it is taboo, never realizing how much a part of life it is. My belief is we all have a purpose here, a destiny to fulfill and when we are done, we die. Some sweet innocents live only a short period in their mother's womb, and die and whatever their destiny was I believe it was fulfilled. There are so many unanswered questions in this life and God's ways are not ours. Martyrs used to be a part of the church teaching for years. I believe they are still here just in a new packages and  labeled differently but still here among us.

There is so much in life and death we do not know, easing my fear and concern of death by my belief in God and heaven is the least I can do for myself. and for my family. If kids can believe in Santa and get their hopes dashed by finding out the truth, what is so ridiculous about believing in God? Let's suppose there is no eternity when you die. How can you then acknowledge you had believed falsely if you're dead and there is nothing at the end. You can't come back and say I told you so therefore where is the harm in believing. I suppose my point is, I choose to comfort myself with belief. I believe it will be ok no matter how bad it seems, and there is always something good close by, I just have to look for it. It is there, I know it.

Beloved Sunflower

Do you know what God did for me yesterday? He sent a friend to drag me out of the house (yes it is considered dragging when the rain is falling, the bed feels warm and snuggly, and I still have coffee in the house) to see beyond my walls and naval gazing, to attend a church service. To further put my life into proper perspective, a friend called to tell me of another friend of hers whose husband just died suddenly before Thanksgiving.  It seems I am not the only lonely widow this holiday season and I need to recognize that and snap out of it. I was so happy to have a mission outside of myself to pray for this new widow and her family and to lift my head again to see the world carrying on. How wonderful and kind God is to lift my chin again. The Sonshine burst forth through the gloominess of this rainy day seeing God’s people at church today. Their love and concern warmed my heart.  God won’t allow me to look down for long because He knows it is bad for my health.

Another interesting thing that has happened to me has to do with my first name Cheryl. I never use that name nor liked it very much, no offense to Cheryl’s everywhere, I just prefer the more unique middle name I was given, Renee.  I always thought it was more interesting since there is an accent in it which I have yet learned how to type, so I will tell you that it is over the second to last ‘e’. Two weeks ago, I went for some ministry at a local church and the lady who ministered to me was named Cheryl. We chatted about us both being of the same name, a little small talk but not giving much thought to it. The incredible part was I was attuned to my first name. Then yesterday my friend called about her friend named Cheryl whose husband died suddenly so I started to wonder, what does Cheryl mean? I knew Renee meant reborn, but had never given much thought to what Cheryl meant. I looked it up, and it means beloved or dear one.

So God is surrounding me with beloved, dear ones, and letting me know that I am a beloved, dear one. Cheryl has one more meaning, it also means bright. It didn't specify whether that means like the sunshine bright or just smart, so I will claim both. So there it was, my secret identity hidden in my own self rebellion all those years.  Maybe I am being reborn into the Cheryl I never knew and always kept hidden. Only the government and doctor’s offices knew me by this name, but now, who knows, I may walk in it more. I am beloved and I am a dear one to some and I am bright(notice it didn't say brilliant)in all areas of my life with the exceptions of math and science. Someone is bound to hire me with all that I have going for me, right? 

I look forward to these special nuggets my Father sends to me, so much so that I am constantly looking for more. I am hungry for them because I believe they are very special hugs from God, a kind of a wink and a nod my way to say, I am still surrounding you my daughter. I get so school girl giddy when He does silly things like this for me. Does anyone know what I am talking about? Just a glance from Him infuses me with a jolt of His love and this makes me know that I am okay for now, I am not forgotten. I am glad to say I know the love of God because I cannot imagine going through this without His love. I need hope, I need faith, and I need love. The greatest being His love.

Thank you for your love and thank you for reaching out to me through your people who hugged me yesterday and today.  Who would have thought  the gift of touch was such an essential part of my healing process. I have been avoiding going out into the public to escape the sympathetic looks which make me cry but now I realize I have to get out more.  I had said to someone or maybe even on this blog, that I felt like a mushroom right now. This is so contrary to my nature. I love sunflowers, they are my favorite flowers because they are always looking up constantly seeking the sun. I think if I were a flower  this is what I would be. It has been so unnatural for me to be seeking the darkness of a rainy day or the cave I have made of my home. I am a beloved sunflower, not a me centric mushroom and it is time to get out more. I need my Sonshine.