A broken mug

This is a departure from my normal blog.

It has nothing to do with widowhood or remarriage or grief.

Well, nothing to do with grief resulting from the loss of a loved one.

 

I broke a gift from a dear friend this afternoon.

It wasn't an accident.

I did it on purpose!

Not only on purpose,

I had to try a couple ways to accomplish it.

 

I am a very animated person.

I speak with my hands.

I speak with my tone.

Even when my voice isn't involved, I am expressive.

I speak with my eyes.

I speak with my body language.

I speak with my face.

I am the whole speaking package!

 

My Lanny Love laughs at me and often says

"You're not a poker face!"

My closest friend in the world next to my Lanny Love agrees.

A while back, she bought me a gift mug that said:

"I cannot be held responsible for what my face does when you talk."

She thought it was funny.

I thought it was funny.

We laughed and laughed at the appropriateness of it.

I giggle every time I use it.

 

This morning, I used my mug

I did not giggle.

 

I dislike passive_aggressive behavior.

Just tell me what you feel,

say it to my face.

If you feel like you will look unreasonable,

well.............

But don't tell me you're angry

with passive-agressive behavior.

Turns out I don't like it any better in myself.

 

I receive a quarterly hormone pellet insertion.

TMI, I know.

Yes, I have done the research,

yes, I know the risks.

Just like in the "old" days -

or should I say "young" days -

there comes a point a week or so after

when I am moody and may possibly 

lean toward the unreasonable for a couple days.

I know it's coming and I prepare myself for it.

I have, thus far, managed not to say anything I have to apologize for later

during those few days.

But this morning, though I spoke in my practiced

"sweet as pie" voice - when I spoke -

I pulled a passive-aggressive stunt.

 

You see, I wanted something last night.

Sleep didn't change my want.

It didn't change my Lanny Love's acquiescence.

And it didn't change my attitude.

So I hauled out my cup.

I made sure to drink left-handed,

which I often do anyway,

but today I did it on purpose so the words would show.

My Lanny Love probably knew I was not my normal self this morning,

but I'm sure he had no idea I had dug that cup out

juuuuuust for him.

And I'm sure he didn't know why.

That's the thing about passive-aggressive behavior.

It's ineffective.

 

Nonetheless, I used that cup all day long.

It really isn't a good "sipping all day" cup

because of it's size,

and I thought about getting a different one

every time I had to microwave my coffee.

But I didn't want to let my cup go,

or my moodiness,

or my irritation,

or my "take that-attude".

So I used the too-big-for-sipping-but-good-for-nursing-a-grudge-mug...

and the microwave.

All.

    Day.

        Long.

Yep, it really is as ridiculous as it sounds.

I am currently reading

Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough! 

Anyway, there I was, reading along and sipping my tepid coffee

and suddenly The Holy Spirit spoke.

Really?

You can't be held responsible for your behavior?

You really can't?

You can't control your impulses at all, my wayward child???

Is it only your face you can't control?

Is it only those muscle reflexes?

And is it really funny that you don't wish to be held responsible?

Is is really funny that you use 

"I can't help it, I'm expressive, It's who God made me"

(Sounds a whole lot like Adam and Eve, doesn't it?)

as an excuse to treat the gift I gave you poorly,

even in an underhanded, passive-aggressive way?

Is that really funny?

Turns out it isn't!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me tell you, I couldn't get rid of that mug fast enough!

It suddenly made me sick to my stomach to see it, touch it.

Quite literally!

I dumped the coffee and threw the mug in the trash compactor

crying "forgive me, Lord!!!"

I hit that compact button to crush the cup praying

"Crush that spirit within me that causes me and You such shame!"

I listened for the pop of the broken mug.

No pop.

I raised the compactor.

There lay my completely unharmed mug.

I hit that button again and prayed,

"Break it, Lord, crush it!!!"

No pop.

The still, quiet voice.

YOU must shatter it, my child.

I will not take from you what you are not willing to give.

 

I fished that symbol of my carnality out of the trash,

went to my little tool box for my little hammer,

out to the patio where that hammer and I went to work!

I broke that mug!

Shattered it!

Along with my nasty attitude!

 

It's not the first time I've been contrite before God

because of my attitude or behavior

It probably won't be the last time.

But I feel so clean!

 

I took pictures because I want to remember.

I saved the shattered words as a reminder:

My behavior, my attitude, these are my choice.

Choose wisely!

 

Thank you, Daddy God,

for Your refining Love!

Remind me often........

 

 For you, God, tested us; you refined us like silver.

                                                ~~ Psalm 66:10 ~~

 

January 28, 4:59pm: Chapter 11

Forgive me as I ramble today.

 

We attended a funeral yesterday.

The widower requested that the soloist sing

"I Can Only Imagine" 

but requested that the lyrics be slightly altered:

 

I can only imagine what it will be like
When [she walks] by Your side
I can only imagine what [her] eyes will see
When Your face is before [her]
I can only imagine
I can only imagine

[Chorus]
Surrounded by Your glory
What will [her] heart feel?
Will [she] dance for You, Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will [she] stand in Your presence
Or to [her] knees will [she] fall?
Will [she] sing hallelujah
Will [she] be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine
I can only imagine...

 

And so on through the entire song.

As the song was played,

I closed my eyes and did my own insertions.

[Verse 2]
I can only imagine when that day [came]
And [he found himself] standing in the Son
I can only imagine
[Now] all [he] will do is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine

[Chorus]
Surrounded by Your glory
What [did his] heart feel?
[Did he] dance for You, Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?

[Did he] stand in Your presence
Or to [his] knees, [did he] fall?
[Did he] sing hallelujah?
[Was he] be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine, yeah
I can only imagine...

 

At the time of his crossing,

our daughter was gifted with a vision

of his entrance into Heaven.

"He looked so happy, mama!!"

I can only imagine.....

 

This eleventh anniversary has been different.

They all are.

Watch for an upcoming blog...

 

I have not slept well this week,

particularly the last two nights.

I have cried easily about everything.

 

I have thought of that cute, sweet boy

with whom I fell in infatuation.

 

 

 

I have thought of the handsome young man

for whom affection became love.

I have thought of that devoted daddy,

 

that doting "Big Papa".

I have thought of that loving, protective, passionate husband

for whom love had deepened and grown

into a thing of great beauty, 

admired and envied by many. 

I have thought of the great man of God

it was my privilege to walk home.

And I have praised God

for the privilege of being his wife.

I have praised God

for the sure knowledge that we will meet again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, as it is written, 

“What no eye has seen, 

nor ear heard, 

nor the heart of man imagined, 

what God has prepared for those who love him” 

                                        ~~ 1 Corinthians 2:9 ~~

 

Just a few days...

It's just a few days now.

It is in my awareness constantly.

Sometimes front and center,

sometimes in my peripheral vision,

but constantly there.

January 28, 4:59pm

Each year is different.

This part seems to be the same.

Every year the dread begins Christmas night,

really, probably a bit before,

with the remembrance of the "last one".

The awareness begins increasing

until by mid-January,

it is constantly there once again.

 

Sometimes it is just there, just awareness.

Sometimes it is sadness.

Sometimes it is sorrow.

Sometimes it is full-on grief.

But it is there.

My awareness that his physical presence is gone.

 

The more I am aware of his physical absence,

the more I feel his un-physical presence,

that intangible "touching" of our spirits.

His name comes easily to my lips.

I dream of him more -

and strangely, I dream of Lanny's Judy more.

(Yes, though I did not know her, I dream of her.) 

The dreams are different now than they once were.

They bother me because in them he is always...

...the odd man out, the observer.

Even when I try, in my dream, to include him,

he is the man on the sideline,

watching, enjoying, but not interacting or participating.

This has been the case since a "vision" type dream

several years ago - a story for another time.

Still, they are better than the nightmares I had

in the early days.

January has always been a hard month for me

because I am a Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) gal,

but the last 12 have been...

there is not a right word

but sad on top of SAD,

well.............

 

That first one in 2013 when I walked him Home

was only a preview of the pain that would come.

And that initial relief for him that he was well at last

was but a preview of the healing that would come to me

in the years to follow.

Grief is different now than it was in the beginning.

Then it was harsh, all consuming, excruciating, unending pain.

Now it is softer, melancholic, bearable.

But it is still grief.

That walking-him-Home January,

he was calmed by my singing.

I sang for hours and hours at a time.

The song that particularly seemed to calm and comfort him

was Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.

(Link leads to Alan Jackson version on YouTube.)

I find myself humming that song these days...

Grief in remarriage

Today is January 20.

It is my sister's and brother-in-love's

46th wedding anniversary.

It is the 8th anniversary of the death

of my sweet, young friend's husband.

It is eight days until the 11th anniversary

of my Al's death.

 

My friend, who remarried a few years ago,

and I were chatting this morning.

She made the comment that she

didn't know how to grieve in remarriage.

She commented that her precious husband

didn't know what to do or say to make it better.

 

The answer to what can he do is nothing.

Nothing really makes it better.

Like most men, he wants to make it better.

He loves her so much and she him

and he just wants to fix it for her.

But, honestly, the only thing he can do to make it better

is to listen and be there and love her through it.

 

So how exactly does one grieve in remarriage?

Well, you just do.

That is the answer.

Like all grief, 

    there isn't a right way or a wrong way,

        you just do.

 

In some ways, remarriage makes special days harder.

Almost 

"How DARE I be happy when my beloved is dead!"

Here's the thing -

    and I know this sounds cold-hearted but sometimes facts are -

        the thing is,

            if I am not happy,

                if my sweet, young friend is not happy,

                    our beloved first husbands

                        are no less dead.

 

I cannot imagine that my happiness

would bring anything other than joy to my Al!

 

There is no honor in misery.

 

There is no honor in not loving.

I love my Al.

I cannot, and would not, change that.

My Lanny Love loves his Judy.

I cannot, and would not, change that.

Nor would he.

My friend loves her first husband.

I cannot, and would not, change that.

Nor would she.

Grief in remarriage is complicated.

And exceedingly simple.

I love them both.

He loves us both.

She loves them both.

We miss them and sometimes are extraordinarily sad. 

The Bible is clear that we are to love as Christ loves.

That is unendingly,

    without caveat,

        in life, and in death.

 

My advise to her this morning was to

    feel her feelings,

        talk about her beloved,

            remember.

Hold him closer for a while.

And at the same time hold her second beloved close.

Because she knows!

She knows the value - and the cost - of great love.

 

It occurs to me that those who are widowed and remarried

are married to very blessed people!

I loved and honored my Al well in life 

    and love and honor him well in death.

I love and honor my Lanny Love GREAT

    because I KNOW!

 

I know.............

Epiphany

Today is Epiphany, the twelfth day of Christmas

which tradition holds is the day the wise men

found and worshipped the baby Jesus.

While we know that they actually found Him

nearly two years later and not in the manger,

the point is that they found and worshipped

the Light of the World.

 

I have for many years waited until after Epiphany

to take down my Christmas decorations.

Christmas 2012 going into 2013 was an exception.

I had sadly decided that life would be simpler

if the Christmas decor was down.

On January 1, 2013, my girls came and helped me

put away my Al's last Christmas.

It turned out to be a great blessing on that Epiphany of 2013,

when God revealed His Light to a dying man and a grieving woman.

I won't go into the very intimate details of that evening,

but it was a precious gift from God!

 

Today, I am away from home.

I will not be able to go sit for a while with my Al

and remember the gift of that sacred evening.

But I share this story, probably not for the first time,

because I want to share the Light of the World with you!

 

It seems fitting to me somehow

that God chose Epiphany for the events of that night.

Such darkness in those days, and the days to follow.

Such Light in the midst of it all!

 

You see, God does not desire darkness for us!

We live in a fallen world and darkness is a part of that.

But He is THE Light!

And always, even in the midst of the blackest midnight,

    the deepest cave,

        the blackest hole,

            always, He is there.

It occurs to me that He,

the Light of the World Himself,

cloaks Himself in darkness to provide us Light.

 

Wherever you are today,

whatever your circumstances,

may you see the Light!

 

When Jesus spoke to them again, he said, 

“I am the Light of the World. 

Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, 

but will have the light of life.”

                        
~~ John 8:12

January...

I suppose it's the coward's way out.

Or lack of self control.

Or both.

Maybe it's simple wisdom.

Doesn't matter,

I've chosen, as I have for the last several years,

to stay off Facebook for the month of January,

the twelfth one since D-day, May 25, 2012.

 

It's kind of like a terrible car accident

one comes upon while driving along the road on an ordinary day.

You don't want to look,

you want to keep your eyes straight ahead,

focused solely on the road.

You know it's the wise thing,

the safe thing to do.

But still, you look, and in vivid, gory detail,

you see the bloody carnage.

 

Facebook January memories are a car wreck for me.

With my Al's diagnosis,

I opened a CaringBridge site so that I could maintain a 

"life outside cancer"

while still keeping distant friends and family informed.

But beginning the last week of December,

there were a lot of FB posts as his days dwindled.

It's not that I don't remember anyway,

I do.

But like the car wreck,

it's easier on my heart and emotions

not to see the bloody carnage.

Flip to a few years later.

It was this day, January 1, 2014,

one year, 11 months, four days after his death,

that I made the decision.

It had been a few weeks in the making.

A LOT of "Are You SURE it's time???"

had gone into my prayers.

It was time.

It had become crystal clear the night before -

a story for another time.

No more doubt.

So I did it.

I started the extensive eHarmony profile.

It took me several days

and before I hit "send" when it was completed,

I prayed one more time.

Around that same time, across town,

a lonely widower was doing the same thing.

A few weeks later, we sat across from one another

in my "first date" restaurant and closed the place down.

While January wasn't when we met,

it was when we each continued 

walking toward God's plan for us in one another.

And January's blackness began to lighten.

I was thinking about that this morning as I typed my 

"Happy New Year, see you in February" 

announcement on my page.

It hadn't hit me before.

January has been redeemed!

 

While I absolutely do remember and think of the extreme sadness

of those lonely, losing him, January days,

I also think of the steps toward my Lanny Love that eHarmony January.

I even giggle and laugh at the memories of

some of the other email exchanges,

some of the other dates that occurred.

Sometimes I shake my head.

I think of the Colorado lady from whom I stole my Lanny Love

(though really, how much stealing was there 

if he was still shopping and hadn't yet checked out...)

and hope she found her Prince Charming.

All this to say,

sometimes we don't recognize it, do we,

God's redemption.

Sometimes never, I suppose.

But if we look for Him,

if we seek His working,

if we are obedient to Him and His direction,

it is there whether we see it or not.

This is the 10th January since the redemption

and I just now saw it.

May 2024 be a redeeming year for each of you

and may you see His Hand of redemption in your lives!

Many, Lord my God,
    are the wonders you have done,
    the things you planned for us.
None can compare with you;
    were I to speak and tell of your deeds,
    they would be too many to declare.

                                ~~ Psalm 40:5 ~~