Fearful Procrastination

Do you ever procrastinate?
I do!

All!

The!

Time!

Oh, I don't just watch T.V.

Or read a book.

Or daydream.

I do other useful things.

Like clean.

Like cook.

Like blog.

But often,

like today,

those other things are simply distractions

allowing me to put off doing something else.

Now, eventually,

those something else's have to be accomplished.

Putting them off,

distracting myself with other things,

doesn't change that.

Most of the time,

the procrastinated task is something unpleasant

and so,

off it is put for as long as possible.

While that is really rather foolish

since it just keeps the dread alive,

it really doesn't hurt anything and

it does get other needed tasks finished as well.

But sometimes,

like today,

it is fearful procrastination.

And that's a problem.

I have, for several months,

been trying to be accepted into a program.

Finally this week,

I received the anticipated email.

All I have to do to get started

is successfully complete a test.

And I'm scared.

What if I fail?

What if I'm not as smart as I think I am?

What if I'm not as detail oriented as I assume?

What if my perfectionist tendencies aren't enough?

What if I don't measure up?

What if -

dare I say it? -

What if I'm not good enough?

Now, each moment that I put this test off

eats into needed time to finish it.

Each moment means less time

to get it right.

Each moment means more overlooked details are likely.

Each moment....

increases my chance of failure.

Fear is the enemy!!!

It is an emotion of satan,

not of God!

And it occurs to me that

even if this test doesn't turn out the way I hope,

the real test is in my ability to overcome the fear.

To trust in my God to know what is best for me!

So, off I go,

to take the test over the remaining

three days I have to get it

completed and submitted.

I care if I pass or not,
but this test is not the important one!

It is vital that I honor my God

and pass this little trust test!

May He find me at the top of my class!

Lost Diamonds

Shortly after my Al was diagnosed with terminal cancer,
the diamond in my engagement ring fell out.
We looked everywhere and couldn't find it.
I was heartbroken.
Not only was the symbol of our love gone,
it felt like an omen.

And then a miracle happened!
My best girl friend dropped by
and on her way out the door,
she spotted my diamond,
glittering in the welcome mat at the front door.
I was thrilled!
But, to be honest, it didn't feel like an omen.
And it wasn't.

We had the diamond remounted,
we were assured it was secure.
Just six months after his death,
it fell out again
and was permanently lost.
I cried buckets!
And I just didn't understand!
I have to admit,
I yelled at God in bitter disappointment

and anger

and heartache. 

He had taken my Al, I said,

and now He had taken my diamond

that had set on my finger for nearly 40 years.

I'd have been upset if Al had been alive and well.

But he was dead and I was devastated!

Habakkuk felt the way I felt that day.

He cried out to the Lord.

Asked how long

God was going to allow suffering

and do nothing about it!

He was bitterly disappointed in the state of things.

And he said so.

And then God answered!

"Watch and be utterly amazed

for I am going to do something

in your day

that you would not believe

if you were told!"

                                        ~~ Habakkuk 1:5

"Utterly amazed"

Isn't that just the most awesome thing!

God is in the business of utter amazement!

In the devastation that is sometimes part of life -

thanks to satan -

God has a plan!

And it IS an amazing plan!

While we may never understand the devastation -

I will never understand why my diamond is gone,

or why people get sick,

or why they die -

God is in the midst of it!

And He is doing something

you wouldn't believe even if you were told!

January is past

Let me start this blog by saying
how wonderfully happy I am
in my marriage to my Lanny Love!
What a great blessing
our God has given us
in one another!
A repeated theme in the Bible
is one of restoration
and how amazingly He has restored us!

But while restoration
soothes the past,
it does not erase it.
My sweet Lanny Love
commented recently
how happy he was that God
brought us together,
that He knew we needed one another,
that we understood one another's
joy in the midst of sorrow.
That is such a truth!
Only someone who has experienced
this confusing dichotomy
of joy and grief at the same time
can fully appreciate
the confusion
that sometimes comes with

remarriage in widowhood.

My Lanny Love
is joyfully and happily
married to me.
He loves me!
And he always will!
And, he was joyfully and happily
married to his Judy.
He loved her!
And he still does and always will!
And before me,
he really missed her!
And he still does and always will!

I am
joyfully and happily
married to my Lanny Love.
I love him!
And I always will!
And, I was joyfully and happily
married to my Al.
I loved him!
And I still do and always will!
And before my Lanny Love,
I really missed him!
And I still do and always will!

I have grieved heavily the last couple of weeks
as the fourth anniversary
of my Al's death and burial
has approached and,
at last,
passed.
It has been that

can't sleep -

can't concentrate -

can't remember -

can't eat/want to eat everything in sight -

on the verge of tears all the time -

missing so much that it physically hurts -

kind of grief.
The kind of grief
that came in the early days.
All consuming awareness of absence
of the one I loved.
I watched in late August
and early September
as my Lanny Love went through the same thing.

One would think
that being so happily remarried
would make it better,
easier.
Some of my fellow widows
who have not remarried
certainly think so
as indicated by comments like

"Well, it's not as bad for you!

You have Lanny!"

And before I had my Lanny Love,
I thought that too.
Remarriage would make it better.
And it does.
Most of the time.
But in some ways,
it makes it worse.

There is that piece of my heart
that is Al's alone.
I cannot give it to my Lanny Love.
There is that piece of his heart
that belongs only to Judy.
He cannot give it to me!
There, in the midst of our love,
is that longing for another person.
The wanting to share something special
with them.
The wanting their comfort
in our feelings of loss and grief
over them.

The flip side of that longing
is guilt.
We have each fallen in love with,
and wholly given ourselves to,
another person.
Sometimes,
like in the midst of an intense grief wave,
it feels a bit like cheating.

"How could I do that?!?!?!"

I love both my Al

and my Lanny Love

with all my heart!

And I have felt

very disloyal

to both of them the last few weeks.

I know that this makes no sense.

I know it is emotions

not reality.

I know that at 4:59pm

on January 28, 2013,

I ceased to be a married woman.

I am not cheating,

am not being disloyal to my husband.

I know that when I get to Heaven,

I won't have two husbands,

I will have Jesus,

be the Bride of Christ!

But there they are.

Feelings of disloyalty and guilt.

Times two.

And so,

I have felt myself withdrawing.

And becoming clingy.

It's an odd thing.

Confusing to both of us.

Regardless of which side of the experience we are on.

Widowhood brings mourning.
But God brings morning!
And what a beautiful day has awakened!





Gifts

Sisters AND brothers,
I can't improve on this!

Thank You, Lord,
for the many gifts,
marvelous gifts,
You have given me!

"You Promised Me"

Trust - Part 3

I forget sometimes
how satan loves a challenge.
When we seek to serve God more fully,
satan's response is always the same:
"Challenge accepted!"
My and God's trust challenge
is no different!

As I begin this post,
it is not quite noon.
I have been up since just before 7am.
It has been an eventful morning.

I forgot to turn off the alarm 

before opening the back door to let the dog out.

The alarm pad is by the side door.

I was settling onto the sofa to await Mitzi's

"I'm finished and it's cold out here! Let me in!"

when the beeping broke through the fog 

that surrounds my brain in the mornings

and I realized what I had done.

I took off at a run for the other side of the dark house

and ran my shoulder smack into the door frame.

Ouch!!!

I reached the pad just in the nick of time and entered the code 

to stop it from shrieking to all my neighbors, 

the alarm company, 

and my Lanny Love in Colorado

that I had forgotten to turn it off before opening a door.

Shoulder hurting, 

but embarrassment avoided.

Well, until now....

A few minutes later,
I punched the wrong button for my size cup on my coffee maker
and coffee overflowed onto the countertop.

I let Mitzi in

and returned to my perch on the chair by the fire

for my morning time with the Lord.

Chilly, even with the fire,

I headed upstairs to get my Lanny Love's robe

to warm me up and bring him closer.

I tripped going up the stairs.

I talked to the Lord a bit about my morning thus far.

Talked to Him about my Lanny Love and Zach.

Talked to Him about trust.

Talked to Him about my daughter.

Talked to Him about my friend.

Talked to Him about a lot of stuff.

Read His Word.

Sat still and quiet for a bit and listened to Him.

And headed to Facebook to waste some time

where I saw this picture and made it my cover photo:

Two more cups of coffee,

a "good morning, have fun" conversation with my Lanny Love, 

and I head to the pantry for breakfast

where I promptly slam my finger in the door.

I decide it's time to hit the shower and get busy.

As usual, I choose the downstairs shower.

Very briefly, I think about showering upstairs.

But I don't.

I enjoy a long, leisurely shower

and turn the faucet off.

Hot water continues to poor down my body.

I twist the hot knob and it's off.

I think, "Maybe I turned it the wrong way."

Nope.

That results in more scalding water.

I step out of the shower and reach in to try to turn it off.

Nope.

Water continues to fall from the shower head.

At that moment,

I remember satan's love of a challenge!

And into my head pops the thought.

"And your Lanny Love is probably

at this very moment,

laying broken and bruised

under a ton of avalanche snow,

slowly suffocating!"

(I have a very healthy imagination

and I could almost see him struggling!)

"STOP IT!!!"

I say firmly!

"I trust my God with my Lanny Love!"

"And how has that worked out for you in the past,

WIDOW WOMAN?"

I could practically hear the sneer. 

Now, I know in my head.

I know the ski resorts are very conscientious about avalanche control.

And I know that my Lanny Love is careful.

And I know that I have hot water spewing from my shower head 

that needs to be stopped.

But my heart begins to panic.

My chest constricts. 

Then I think of my cover picture.

 And I breathe a prayer.

"My Lanny Love is Yours!

I ask for his protection!

But he is Yours!"

 And my chest relaxes. 

Now, I cannot find a shut off valve for the shower.

I have no idea where the main shut off is in this new home.

I cannot call my Lanny Love,

who, as I type, knows none of this,

for he is on a ski slope enjoying the snowy mountains

and fellowship with his son! 

And I can't remember what plumber he uses.

So I call the one I used while I was single.

They can't make it out until the end of the week.

Not an option at this point.

Back to Facebook and a plea for recommendations.

A number of suggestions for how to stop the shower

and names of plumbers.

Then, a man from my church walks me through 

turning off the line to the water heater.

Success!

The shower stops!

I have no hot water,

but I have plenty of cold and,

most importantly,

toilets.

Disaster averted.

I finish dressing and decide to run a couple errands

before heading to a meeting.

Flat tire.

And he's back.

 "See what happens when you trust God?

All alone again and problems at every turn." 

Sometimes disaster happens.
That is part of life in this fallen world!
satan himself ushered problems big and small into our lives.
And he taunts us with them!

But this morning,

God met my need!

He was faithful,

trustworthy!

As He always is!

Not today, satan!
Not today!

"But the people who trust the Lord

will become strong again.

They will rise up as an eagle in the sky;

they will run and not need rest;

they will walk and not become tired."

                                                   ~~ Isaiah 40:31 NCV

Trust - Part 2

I have never been a worrier.
I used to tell
my late husband, Al
that I didn't need to
that he worried enough for both of us.
But after his diagnosis
and death
I became a worrier.
Fearful for the safety and health of my loved ones.

January has always been hard for me.
Even before Al's January death,
the bleakness,
the after-Christmas let down
caused me to struggle with depression.
But since...
Oy Vey!!!
And so the timing of this trip was not good.
Or maybe it was!
It has forced me to face the hard truth!

Over the last couple of weeks
I have realized that I don't trust my God.
An unpleasant dawning
since I thought I had resolved that!
But my fear for my Lanny Love
has shown me otherwise.

Saturday night,
I wept in his arms
as my Lanny Love
whispered quiet assurance
and encouragement to me.
All through the night
I tossed and turned and prayed.
I battled with my lack of trust,
my fear.


I thought about those Januarys.
Those two.
The loss ones where the pain was unending.
And then I remembered another January.
The one in 2015.
Two years ago.

You see,
on Christmas Eve 2014,
I had a meltdown.
At work.
It was all just suddenly too much.

Too much loss.

Too much grief.

Too much pain.

Too much.

I fell apart.
And I knew.
Something had to be done.
I could not go on as I had been.

And so,
that January,
I began disciplining myself to
choose joy
even if my circumstances
dictated differently.

Many of you were there in those days.
You read as I learned to choose joy.
Many times a day I had to choose it
before it became natural.


Trusting God is the same thing!
I have to choose to do so!
Through the day
yesterday and today,
I have continually prayed
and released my Lanny Love,
and the rest of those people
who are precious to me,
back to Him.


And just as I discovered
in that other January
that choosing joy
led to happiness,
I have discovered today
that choosing trust
leads to peace.



It is not easy to choose!
It takes practice,
discipline.
Just as it did the January of choosing Joy.
It is an act of the will,
choosing to trust!

I so choose!

"The fear of man lays a snare,

but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe."

                                  ~~ Proverbs 29:25 ESV

Trust

I am sitting alone
at our dining room table
eating lunch
and praying for safety
and health
for my Lanny Love
and bonus son, Zach
as they take a father/son
ski trip.
And in this month of
remembered loss
I am struggling
to trust God
with these two men
so precious to me.

It has been a busy time

since my last post.

We have finally purchased

and moved into

"our" house.

Not his.

Not mine.

Ours.

And for the first time since

July of 2012 when

my Al and I left

the home we had shared

for more than 20 years,

I feel like I am home.

Not in the house where

I took my Al to die.

Not an intruder

in the house 

made into a home

by another woman.

Ours.

I finally feel at home.

Until today.

A bit more than an hour ago,
my Lanny Love and I
stood outside our home
in each others' arms,
praying for travel and ski safety and health

for them,

and peace and trust in God

for me 

as I spend the next few days alone.
We kissed one another,
Zach and I hugged,
they climbed in the car,
and backed out of the driveway.

I admit it.

I had to restrain myself

from chasing after them,

from running down the side of the house

to the front of the house

where I could watch the car

for as long as possible.

But instead,

I turned and went in the house.

And it no longer felt like home.

It's just a lovely house

without my Lanny Love

to make it a home.

Today is not the first time
I have been alone in this house.
Often,
my Lanny Love spends several hours
at his office at the church.
Occasionally,
he will run an errand
while I stay home.
But this is the first time
since our marriage
13 1/2 months ago
that we will go to bed tonight
without kissing one another good night,
saying "sleep well".
It is the first time
we will arise in the morning
and not smile to see one another,
not kiss good morning,
not share a cup of coffee.
It feels different.

As I think back on those other Januarys,

those impassioned prayers,

the begging,

for healing,

restoration,

togetherness,

as I remember the

"No, My child, not this time"

fear-

no, panic -

overtakes me.
And I struggle to trust
that he will come home.
And that if my impassioned pleas
for that are denied,
I will be okay
because God is in control.

It's interesting

that just this past Monday,

at our monthly gathering 

of members of our ministry group,

our speaker spoke on trust.

Loosely translated,

we trust our phones.

We trust our deodorant.

We trust our bank.

We trust our electric company.

But we often fail to trust our God.

Especially with our families.

(From Lisa Blake, Executive Director, Leadership Canyon; City Council Member)

So, we are settled in at last,
and I am back to blogging.
And for the next four days,
my Lanny Love and Zach
are on a ski adventure.
And just a little over an hour ago,
I began again
a trust adventure
with God.

May I prove worthy of Him!

 When I am afraid,

I will trust You.

I praise God for His Word.

I trust God, so I am not afraid.

                                            ~~ Psalm 56:3,4 NCV

But the person who trusts in the Lord will be blessed.

The Lord will show [her] that He can be trusted.

                                      ~~ Jeremiah 17:7 

 

Season of Thankfulness - Day 8, Memories

It is interesting that

"memories"

is today's thankfulness word.
As it happens,
today would have been

Al's 61st birthday

and my mind and heart
are full of memories today.
So, while I have many precious memories,
today, I will focus on those of Al
with tremendous gratitude!

Al and I dated for 5 years.
We met at church.
Church is a very, very good place to meet!
I was barely 13.
He was not quite 15.
He thought I had good legs.
I thought he was huge!

We  didn't connect for about a year.
I was a mere 8th grader,
he was in high school.
And never, never, never
would a high school boy
be the boyfriend to a junior high girl!
It just wasn't done!

But a year later,
I was going into 9th grade.
High school.
And I still had good legs.
And he had gotten even more muscular.
And so, we became a couple.

We were babies!
But babies in love.
And as we grew,
so did our love.

And finally,
on March 20, 1976,
we became Mr. & Mrs.
For six weeks shy of
37 years,
we were Mr. & Mrs.
Then, it was just Mrs.

Book ends.
Extreme joy.
Extreme sorrow.
And so much of each in between!

I remember the first birthday
we celebrated as a couple,
Al's 16th.
He could drive!!!
I'm not sure why that was so exciting to me.
I was still 14
and not allowed to car date
until I was 16.
But I was still excited for him!

I remember his 18th birthday.
He played football
and his team had just beaten
the unbeatable!
"The night they drove old Dixie down...."
What a celebration that was!

I remember his 22nd birthday.
We were expecting our precious baby girl soon.
He was so excited.
And nervous.
Would he be a good father?

He was!

Would he be a good daddy (because they are different!)?

He was!

How would he know what to do when.....

He did!

Would he love her enough?

Oh my, how he loved that little girl -

both of them!!! 

Would his child love and respect him?

Indeed they did and do!

I remember his first birthday

of the empty nest years.

How he missed having his girls

living there!

How he reveled in the 

second honeymoon period

of that empty nest!

I remember his first birthday as

"Big Papa".

How he loved his grandchildren!

And his birthday the year

he had the privilege of 

dedicating his last grandchild to the Lord.

I remember his 55th birthday.

The big one.

The double nickle!

He thought he was old!

For some reason,

he never thought he would live that long.

He was a very diverse man.

Tough and gentle!

His cake reflected that!

 

I remember his 56th birthday.

A trip to Washington, D.C.,

a lifelong dream for him.

It was before we knew.

What a time we had! 

I remember his 57th.

The great outpouring of love

and affection from his many friends!

The knowing that it would be

the last such celebration.

The mix of joy and sorrow.

I have said this before.

One never stops loving and missing.

I don't love him any less today

than I did on all those birthdays!

I don't understand why God chose

to take him home at only 57.

We are supposed to get

"three score and ten"

(that's 70).

I reminded God of that

a number of times.

But God is sovereign!

He knows what I do not!

What I do know is this:

I have precious memories

of a wonderful man!

I had the privilege of 

living and loving together

and raising children and having grandchildren

with him.

And I remember. 

Yes, I remember.

Thirty Days of Thankfulness - Day 2, Home

I've thought about home a lot
over the last several years.
Just after Al's cancer diagnosis
4 1/2 years ago,
we moved out of the house we had shared
for nearly 20 years
into a lovely house in the country where,
six months later,
Al went to our true home in heaven.

It was my house.

I chose the flooring.

I chose the paint.

I furnished it.

I decorated it.

But it was not home.

It was the house I lived in.

Almost 11 months ago,
I moved into another house.
A beautiful house,
lovingly furnished and decorated
by the lady of the house
who made a warm, safe haven
for her family
before she went to our eternal home.

But it is not my home.

It is the house in which I live.

I have looked forward
to finding and moving into "our" house,
Lanny's and mine.
But that place will be
only bricks and mortar
just like the other houses.

So where is home on this earth?
Well, I'll tell you what I have discovered.
Home is not the place you live!

First and foremost,

"home" is in the arms

Of my Savior, Jesus Christ!

In all my life,

every moment,

good or bad,

He has loved and cradled me!

Then, for 37 years,
I was "home" with Al.
No matter what house,

or city,

or state 

in which we lived,

where he was,

was home.

When he wasn't there,
it was only a house.
We loved,

fought,

celebrated,

grieved,

we LIVED together.

Al was home!

When he died,

I became very homesick,

incredibly, completely lost.

I no longer fit.

Anywhere.

Then God moved
in a way I could never have imagined!

A year and a half ago,
I received an email,
then another,
then another,
and soon an invitation to meet,
then dinner,
then...
miracle of miracles,
I fell in love.
The icy loneliness began to thaw.
And my Lanny Love

took me into his heart,

I took him into mine,

and our awesome God

brought us both

to the comfort of "home"

once again.

I was talking with a fellow widow
also remarried to a widower this evening.
They were each happily and joyfully married
for many years.
Then the unthinkable.

The grief.

The loneliness.

The longing.

And finally,

the loving again.

And her comment to me
is the first of its kind that I have heard.
And it echoes my own experience.
I thought I was alone in this phenomenon.
I am not!

There is something different,

something special,

something that was not part 

of our first marriages.

It is not deeper love.
We love our first spouses deeply!
Still!

It is, 

I think, 

a deeper appreciation of love.

A deeper understanding of what is -

and what isn't -

important.

It is a recognition of a great gift,

this love from sorrow,

this beauty from ashes.

And more than I knew when he was alive,
that thing I have come to fully recognize in his death,
that Al was my "home",
is now common knowledge!

I know now,

not when it is too late,

I know now,

that my Lanny Love

is "home"!

So home is not the place we live.
As long as we are alive on this earth,
home is the people we love
and who love us!
I have been so blessed in my life!
God did not ask me to be homesick
for the remainder my earthly life!
During the darkness,
He provided me with shelter.

I was home in the love and care

of my precious daughters and sons-in-love!

I was home in the protection
my grandson displayed
each Sunday morning in church.

I was home in the teasing

of my other grandson as he gave me

smelly, sweaty hugs after football games.

I was home in the shouts of
"Grammie!"
by my little granddaughter.

I was home in the calls

and visits

and texts

from my siblings, cousins, uncle, and friends.

It was a different kind of home
than I was accustomed to,
but it was home nonetheless.

God has twice gifted me with "home"
in the arms of a good, loving husband!
And I am more fully aware now
of the precious gift of marriage,
the gift of "home".

I pray daily that

I will never again take it for granted!

So today,
as I prepare to move into "our" house
with my Lanny Love,
I am grateful that

I am only changing living quarters.

I am already "home"!

Home!
A wonderful word!

Letters to Al

I journal.
A lot.
I have several journals.
This forum is a journal of sorts.
I get a lot of my posts
from my hand written journals.
They are modified,
prayed over to see what
God wants "out there",
and finally posted.
One of my handwritten journals is for prayer.
I bring my praises,

petitions,

hurts,

frustrations,

joys,
and a myriad of other things
to Almighty God.
One is a general journal
where I process my life,
record memories.
In one, I write poetry.
The fourth is my most personal.
It is letters to Al.

I began the practice of writing to him
shortly after his death.
It was a tangible thing,
a way to "touch" him.
Nearly four years later,
I still write to him occasionally.
These are highly personal letters.
I share them with no one.
Ever!

Until now.

I have to tell you

that I balked a bit about this.

But I feel strongly led

to share my last two letters,

written recently,

with you, my readers,

word-for-word as they are written.

May God use this post for His glory!

As I left his gravesite that day,
I was a little nervous.
You see,
I have recently been in a season
of spiritual conviction
and heavy grief at the loss of my husband,
my childhood sweetheart,
the father of my children.
I have been missing him deeply.
Missing the familiarity.
Missing someone who experienced
my history with me.
Missing not having to blend two families.
Missing knowing my place,
my position,
in the family.
Missing not having to decide what to keep
and what to sell or give away.
Missing having my home,
my things.
My experience has been
that when these periods of grief ease,
there is a period of increased peace
that is often followed quickly by a big

And with the added spiritual struggles,
I was a little nervous.

Letter two.

I guess I share this to say
to those of you in the midst of grief,
and to those of you
for whom grief is coming,

there is life after the death of a loved one!

It is different!

You are different!

It will never be the same as it was!

You will never be the same as you were!

And that's okay!

May God bring you healing!

May your broken heart

give way to soft memories

and appreciation for the past,

and may He grant you peace

and joy in the here and now!

May you find hope for a future!

Grant it, Lord! 

Loving and missing and memories

Today is the anniversary
of my Lanny Love's greatest loss.
Three years ago today
his precious Judy
"...beheld the face of the One
for whom she lived."
Reading his loving Facebook post
and that of his daughter's
made me very sad.
But not for the reason you might think.

You see,
as I read through the comments,
looked at the "likes"
I couldn't help but notice something.
As of this writing,
there are 69 likes
and 13 comments to my Lanny Love's post.
In comparison,
there are 220 likes
and 33 comments on his daughter's.
The difference has little to do
with the number of friends they each have
for many of the comments and likes
on his daughter's post
are mutual friends.
It has more to do with Lanny's
and his daughter's relationship
to Judy,
and now to me.
And that makes me incredibly sad.

I have grieved with and for
my Lanny Love today -
as he did me in January.
I have grieved for Judy's children,
her mother,
her sister,
and her host of friends who miss her,
many of whom are now also my friends.
I have read with joy the loving comments
that tell me so much about this woman I never met.
I want to know her!
For as much as -
no, more than -
his parents influenced who my Lanny Love became
in the 18 years he lived with them,
Judy influenced the man he became
in the 32 years they lived together as man and wife
and the five years they dated before marriage.
Knowing her helps me to know him.

But more than that!
More than my selfish desire to know this woman
he so loves,
more than that
is the fact that he needs to know,
needs to read,
that others remember her still.
As he does.
That others were influenced by her.
As he was.
That others love her still.
As he does.

One of the strange misconceptions
people consistently have about widowhood
is that when a person falls in love,
remarries,
begins anew with another,
he or she is "over" the death
of his or her spouse,
that the grieving is done,
that the person they "once loved"
has been relegated to the past,
that the widow(er) doesn't want to remember anymore,
and that bringing them up
is inconsiderate of the new spouse.

Nothing is further from the truth!

In widowhood,
you do not stop loving.
The marriage did not end out of choice.
You do not stop missing someone
to whom you committed your love,
your life.
You do not stop!
Any more than you stop loving and missing
a deceased parent.
Or a deceased child,
even if you have another child after their death.
Or a deceased friend,
even when you make new friends.
You do not stop!

In the early days of grief,
people ask "how are you?"
But they want to know only about your daily life.
They are uncomfortable talking about "it".
They are uncomfortable talking about the deceased person.
They are afraid of bringing up memories.
They are afraid of making you sad.
But in those early days,
you crave talking about them!
It is the only way of keeping them with you!
Sharing memories means others remember
and love them,
that they were not a figment of your imagination,
they were real,
your life with them was real.
In many ways,
that craving increases with time.
As distance makes water color
of the memories,
having someone who also remembers
is supremely important!

So, while I grieve with my Lanny Love today,
while I grieve for him,
while I talk with him about Judy,
I did not know her.
I do not remember.
I do not help confirm she was real,
that their life together was real.
Oh, I can ask leading questions
to spur memories,
I can encourage him to tell me about her,
but I cannot share her with him.

So, please,
when someone you love dies,
do not bury them over and over
to their spouse!
Forever, talk about them!
You are not reminding them
of anything they aren't already
thinking about!
Confirm to them that
their beloved was valued!
Confirm to them that his/her life
made a difference!
Love them now,
just as you did then.
Believe me,
even if they have remarried,
that person's widow(er)
remembers,
loves,
misses
them terribly!

And the new spouse?
Well he or she understands.
They know the person they so love
is hurting
and needs to talk about "it"
and "them".
They know that memories are important.
They know that hearing others remember too
brings comfort.

And if you happen to be a new spouse
who doesn't understand,
please know,
please believe -
for this is the truth -
loving their first husband or wife
is not in competition with their love for you!
Rather, it is in addition to it!
And the fact that they cannot stop loving
should give you great security
for it means they cannot stop loving you either!

Finally,
I have said it before,
I will say it again.
Do! Not! Waste!
Do not waste your emotions on anger!
Do not waste your time with separation!
Cleave to those you love!
Hold them close!
Cherish them every single moment!
Embrace their imperfections!
Love them with your whole being!
You are not guaranteed tomorrow!

Are you hurting?

CLICK HERE FOR HELP!

Today I watched a heartbroken father
honor his 19 year old son
at his memorial service.

His precious son committed suicide on Thursday
during the commission of a crime.

I wept as I saw this fine man
and his precious, grieving wife,
pay homage to their youngest child.

And I wept as I heard of this
unique young man's struggle with
bullying and the resulting depression.

I wept as I heard his father talk of
the things they learned about their boy
while searching his room
these last few days.

I wept as I felt the pain and suffering
this fine young man felt throughout his youth.

I wept as I heard how the bullying apparently did not end
with high school graduation
but continued on into his adulthood.
No end in sight.
And so, on Thursday night, in an out of character move,
their son got drunk
and returned to the middle school where the bullying began.
He broke in,
trashed a room,
and when the police arrived,
he ran.
Suddenly, with police in pursuit,
he stopped,
fired one shot into the ground,
then turned the gun on himself,
and fired.

And the world changed.
A family is forever altered.
No longer innocent,
they have experienced the worst,
the death of a child,
magnified because of the circumstances.

But let me tell you about my friends.
As I watched his parents honor their son,
I saw grief written all over them.
They had aged years in a few short days.
Swollen eyes marked the father's face.
Pale skin marked the mother's.
A catch in the voice,
trembling hands.
Grief.
But about them was something else.
There was a glow about them.
Even in this storm,
this tsunami of grief,
God was evident!
His Spirit surrounded them,
held them up!

As I listened to them talk,
I heard no condemnation.
Not toward their child.
Not toward themselves.
And not toward God.

They talked of their son's struggles to learn.
They talked of his speech difficulties.
They talked of his small stature.
They talked of the things that made him a bully's target.

And they talked of his big heart.
They talked of his service as a volunteer fire fighter.
They talked of his salvation and baptism.
They talked of his love for God.

They begged those listening to express their hurts
rather than suppressing them.
They told of how crushed their family was
and begged that no one else ever crush their family in such a way.
They begged that if anyone listening was contemplating suicide,
that they

DO NOT DO IT!

GET HELP!

Your family and friends cannot read minds!
They do not know the depth of your pain!
Tell them!!!
Call someone, anyone!
Cry out!
Shout!
Scream!
But get help!

I am echoing that plea today!
I have been depressed!
I have contemplated ending my life!
How glad I am that I sought help instead!
If things seem hopeless to you,
if you cannot see any way to get past ---

--- IT ---

whatever "it" may be,
KNOW this one thing!

"It" is not permanent!!!

No one is so broken,
nothing is so bad,
that it cannot be mended!
Seek help!
It is out there!
Ask a friend!
Ask a clergyman!
Ask a stranger!
Ask a professional!
If you know me, ask me!
But ASK!
And ask God!
The solution is not instant!
It will likely take hard work and commitment.
But there IS a solution!

You are precious!
A child of God!
Dearly loved by Him
and by more people than you realize!
Do not end it!
Do not take a permanent action
on a temporary situation!

Please!

I look up to the hills,

but where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

who made heaven and earth.

He will not let you be defeated.

He who guards you never sleeps.

~~ Psalm 121:1-3 NCV ~~

The house I grew up in

Today I ended a chapter in my life.
I entered into a contract
to sell the house I grew up in.
I am not speaking of my childhood home.
I am speaking of the house I moved into
four years ago.
Let me tell you about it.

On May 25, 2012,
my Al was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
I had just celebrated my 55th birthday.
We had a lot of decisions to make
very quickly.
His time was short.
One of the decisions we made
was to sell our home of 19 years
and move to a smaller house
nearer our children.
The purchase and sale of both houses
happened very quickly and very smoothly.
It truly was a miracle from God!

Because of the circumstances of the purchase,
we made the very difficult decision to put the new house
in my name only.
And so, on July 6,
I took my Al to Short Oaks to die.
And I began my journey.

You see, I had never lived alone.
I was 18 when Al and I married.
I moved from my parents' home
to my husband's.
I never had to budget just my income.
I never had to be the only one responsible for upkeep.
I never had to be the only one to lay down under a roof to sleep.
I never had to be the only one -
anything.

Now, I'll tell you a little secret.
I always regretted that I'd not allowed myself that experience.
Don't get me wrong!
I loved my Al!
I am glad I married him!
But I always felt I'd somehow not really been an adult
when I married.
Because I wasn't.
I was 18.
A baby.

And so, as I searched for silver linings
in those dark, dark days
following his death,
I thought that perhaps having the experience of living alone
was a silver lining.
Or maybe more silver plated.

And so, I began growing up.
I paid my bills,
only once facing a disconnect very early on
while "widows fog" was in its full-blown state.
I painted asking only myself what color I wanted.
I purchased light fixtures and flooring without input.
I selected new furnishings.
I bought a car.
All.

By.

Myself.

And I'll tell you something.

It's not all it's cracked up to be!

But I grew up during those three years.

And now, the house I couldn't wait to get rid of

because it was where I took my Al to die,

is going to belong to someone else.

And it makes me surprisingly melancholy.

I am discovering that that little house

has become more a home than I thought.

It does not have years of wonderful memories

with my beloved.

I still sometimes see his hospital bed in the dining room

where it was placed so he could be a part of the daily activities

when he was awake.

I still remember the many nights I came home from work
after his death

and sat for many minutes in my car

because I couldn't bear the thought of going into a dark, silent, lonely house.

I still remember the days of anguished tears,

the long, sleepless nights.

But I also remember the satisfaction I felt

in the colorful, warm rooms,

the cozy furniture,

the office that made me feel accomplished,

the kitchen where I sat at the island

having my time with the Lord

and looking out at the beauty of His creation.

I remember that I grew more in my relationship with God

while I lived in that house

than at any other time in my life.

It was in that house

that I made the decision,

the conscious choice,

to live not simply exist.

It was there that I did the work.

I had my third date ever with a man other than my Al

while I lived in that house.

I experienced my very first goodnight kiss from a man other than my Al.

I experienced my very first romantic heartbreak.

And I learned to move on.

I romantically broke my very first heart.

And I learned that companionship was not enough,
I needed to love again.

And in that house,

I fell in love with my Lanny Love.

I grew up in that house.

And selling it now makes me a little sad.

Turns out the lining was silver after all

and I am grateful to God for showing me.

Mother's Day

I know.
Mother's Day is several weeks past!
But this has been brewing for a while.
It's finally come together
so it's time to post.

This Mother's Day was unique.
It was another first.
I've had a number of firsts where Mother's Day is concerned.

The first Mother's Day after losing a child

The first Mother's Day I had a mother-in-law

The first Mother's Day I knew I was pregnant

The first Mother's Day after my oldest daughter was born

Several first Mother's Days after miscarriages

The first Mother's Day after my mom died

The first Mother's Day after my youngest daughter was born

The first Mother's Days after I knew there would be no more babies

The first Mother's Day after I had a son-in-law

The first Mother's Day after my Al and my mother-in-law died

The first Mother's Day after I had no more grandmothers

And now this year.

More firsts.

Once again, I have a precious husband who,

though we do not share biological children,

celebrated my motherhood with me.

Once again, I have a wonderful mother-in-law to celebrate.

But the big first,

one I never expected to experience,

is that this year,

I am a step-mother.

And that's what this blog is about.

As is the case in any blended family,
there have been some growing pains.
And, just as my children will likely especially miss their daddy this week-end
as Father's Day is celebrated,
I am certain that my step-children especially missed their precious mama
on Mother's Day.
And, honestly, I wasn't sure just how to act on this first for them -
another wife in their daddy's life on Mother's Day.
Because while they know he still misses their mama,
it very likely felt different to them this year,
as if, somehow, he didn't really miss her as much.
In reality,
my presence probably made him miss her more.
And it probably had the same affect on them.

But I would never have known it!
All three of my Lanny Love's children remembered me on Mother's Day!
Me!
In some respects, the enemy.
And in the midst of their sorrow and longing for their own mother,
they took the time and effort to make me feel special!
How it pleasured me!
This gift, their love and acceptance,
is the most precious Mother's Day gift I have ever received!
How I love them for their efforts!

And that's what I want to focus on now that you have the back ground story.
Three things:

Step-mother

Step-children

Love

According to whatever entity it is that names relationships,

I am a step-mother,

the wife of a man who has children with another woman.

They are my step-children,

the children of my husband with another woman.

Except they aren't.

In my heart, they aren't.

And it surprised me as Mother's Day approached

and I began to realize the truth of that statement!

I love Tiffany and Aleisha and Zach -
and their spouses, Blu and Jamie!

And while I do not think of myself as their mother,

I do think of them as my children.

Not my step-children,

my children.

It's confusing.

How can I not be their mother,

but they are my children?

Here's what I've come up with.

A long time ago,

I babysat a little boy.

He came to me at about four weeks old.

And I fell in love with him!

When I went shopping and bought something for my girls,

I bought something for Steven.

I was not his mom.

But I loved him like a son!

When we moved away and his mama wouldn't let me take him with me,

(unreasonable woman!)

I grieved as if I had lost another child.

Several years later,

my brother and sister-in-law and baby nephew

moved in with us for a while.

Same thing happened!

Eric became mine in my heart!

And, again, when they moved away,

I grieved as if I had lost another child.

That is how I feel about my love-children!

They are mine!

I did not birth them.

I do not share

their DNA.

They don't look like me

in any way.

They don't sound

like me.

They don't have any of 

my habits.

They don't have any of

my mannerisms.

But they are mine.

I love them deeply!

Completely!

As my children!

I don't know why since the same thing happened with my sons-in-love,

but I did not expect this!

They are adults,

not sweet, tiny babies.

I expected to love them because I love my Lanny Love.

I expected to love them as friends.

I did not expect to love them as children.

My children!

But I do!

And it amazes me!

And brings me great joy!

And it makes me realize anew how great is the love of God!

I was an adult watching my Al be a daddy to our girls,

and experiencing the absolute, complete adoration I felt for them,

before I really understood the concept of

God loving us like a Father.

But those were littles.

They grew in our hearts as they grew in my belly.

By the time they were born,

they were our precious children,

forever bonded to us in love!

During the teen years,

it sometimes felt like only the shared DNA -

and remembering my own obnoxious teen years -

kept me from killing them.

But I did not and do not love them

for what they did or didn't do,

I love them for whose they are - MINE!

And I found myself wondering,

as I did in my youth,

if a perfect God would tolerate and love me in my imperfection.

While my head knew the answer to that,

today, my love-children have reminded my heart that 

God's love is

never-ending,

unconditional,

forgiving,

protecting - 

perfect!

I am God's Child!

No matter what!

No matter how many growing pains I experience in our relationship.

He does not love me for what I do,

He loves me for whose I am - HIS!

Isn't that a thing of great wonder!

The Lord your God is with you;

the mighty One will save you.

He will rejoice over you.

You will rest in his love;

He will sing and be joyful about you.

                                                                     ~~ Zephaniah 3:17 NCV