Widow, me?

It is four weeks today. How should I mark this new marker of time in my life, by weeks, or months or does it just start becoming months after the first month. This is all new ground for me. I struggle with the word widow. To me it is a terrible word that now identifies my present position in life.  Is it because I hate black widow spiders? I never once thought I would ever have to deal with this title. The day we were married I thought we would be married forever like my parents who just celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary two years ago. Steve wasn’t a police officer or in the military anymore or in any high risk career field, so I really took our life for granted I guess. The word widow doesn’t even feel good in my mouth and leaves a sour taste. I avoid thinking and speaking it. Yet still, it winds its way into my thoughts from time to time.

I wonder, will people avoid me because they don’t know what to say? How long do the sad looks last on people’s faces? Do I carry the face of a woman who has just lost her husband?  I hope not. I actually feel bad for people, because there truly is nothing anyone can do or say. It is like packing or unpacking, you have to do it all by yourself so you will know where everything is. I will say, the best comfort is the invisible stuff like prayers and of course love reaching out to you. I have done it many times for others and often feel helpless but I know prayer is the most I can do for a grieving person.

My present situation does make me aware of people walking around in this world. I wonder how many people I may have been impatient with who may be dealing with a tragedy in their lives too. People like me who just keep swallowing down the lump in my throat, to keep from crying. Everyone has to venture out from the safety of their home to buy milk, eggs and bread or just carry on daily business like banking.  I was so blessed each of the 3 times I have been to Wally World and had not seen anyone I knew. That in itself, in Selma Alabama, is a miracle.  I don’t want to break down in public and God knew that so He cleared the way for me.

I woke up a few days ago, at 4 a.m. with the title of this blog, the Widow’s mantle. I felt driven to blog, which is something I have shied away from. To pour out all my thoughts in a public way seemed too foreign to me but I will be obedient. I blog. I know I am still under the thick mantle of God’s protection over me. This thick, warm widow’s mantle is so snuggly, warm and secure.  You just walk, and your steps are guided by heavenly forces it is like you just sit in a hammock and swing. My needs have been met so much that I am a bit off guard by it.  I have been supernaturally taken care of and believe God will continue until I get my feet back under me.  The picture in my mind of the mantle is like I see on TV when someone rescues a person; they throw a blanket around their shoulders. I also see it as me under covers as a little girl, reading a book with my flashlight. Either way I feel secure, hidden and protected.

 Is this how Mother Teresa and other saints felt every day? The security of knowing God is your security. He will take you to a safe place and tend to what it is He wants done in my life today, tomorrow and the rest of my days. Peace that passes understanding. Yes, I’m a believer because today I am walking on a cloud with a beautiful covering over my head. I love the mantle, just not the widow part.