All Because of a Shiny Ring

I think it was a wedding ring that did it. Sitting across from me in the first class on the road to membership at my new church sat a woman with an exquisite wedding set. It must have recently been cleaned because it sparkled in the light. I suddenly became very aware of my empty finger…and so much more.

I pushed the thought aside. This was not a moment to think about the fact that it had been nine months ago tonight when I had lost him. This was a moment for the Discovery class to tell me if this was the church I hoped it was. This was time for me to hear what this church believed in and what the core values were from the senior pastor I was growing to respect and his wife, a new friend I already adored.

Katy is such a gifted encourager. No, that’s not the word. She’s welcoming. She’s hospitable. She makes you feel as though you are important, welcomed, and valued in her presence. She makes you feel as though you matter. It is a unique quality and I’d bet she has no idea this is what she exudes.

And still, as I listened, I couldn’t help but notice my empty ring finger.

It’s been months since I wore my wedding ring. It started to become loose in the cold temps and then it just didn’t feel right on my hand. I sometimes wear other rings on that finger. Tonight I moved one from the other hand and tried to focus.

As the evening went on, I found more reasons to be glad God brought me to this church. In all my years as a pastor’s wife and in the few when I served as a children’s pastor, I have never heard a senior pastor speak with such passion about the importance of children’s ministry. Pastor David was zealous about this ministry being where kids come to understand who Jesus is in an environment that is fun but does not sacrifice truth. This man of God valued ministry to children, teens, and young adults even if it meant we needed to cut funds to ministry to adults to make it happen. I’m not sure I can adequately convey how much I respected that.

The more the evening went on the more I felt absolutely sure this is the church home for me and my kids. This is a place where messy is OK. This is a place where questions are OK and faith is a journey we walk together. This is a place Kraig would have liked.

Afterwards, I couldn’t hold it together as well as I wanted so I simply whispered to Katy that tonight was 9 months. Her reply was a hug and to tell me she thinks I’m so brave. She wondered if this class, this process of membership would be hard. I told her I’d never joined a church as an adult without him. But the irony is that if he hadn’t died, I never would have had the privilege of finding this one.  I got another hug.

It was a good day, all in all. Ryan felt loved on this, his 14^th birthday. He missed his dad, he told me on our shopping trip for his gift. But only a little. I didn’t really focus on the date being a sad anniversary of sorts until the wedding ring. That’s probably good. It’s progress as I continue to move forward and breathe and live and trust God for what happens next.

So tonight I will fall asleep, resting a bit easier that I’ve found a fresh start in an amazing church. I will focus on the good from today and the happy memories of Kraig just like I tell the kids to do. And I will continue to trust that God has a plan more amazing than I can imagine.

Glorious Unfolding

As promised in my last blog entry (Lightening My Load), here is the blog that I almost didn't post. Praying it provides continued encouragement to others struggling to continue walking through grief.

I sit here tonight doing what I’ve done often since Kraig died. I’m listening to songs that remind me of truths I know at the core of my very being. Tonight it’s Nicole Nordeman’s version of Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus and Steven Curtis Chapman with Glorious Unfolding. Since the day after Kraig died I’ve turned to music when I’m struggling. When I’m feeling lost I’m careful to choose ones with words solid in their declarations of God’s promises and beautiful in their poetry. I rock out to other stuff on the good days.

Tonight the thread of hope seems thinner somehow. My friend, Chelsea, today reminded me it’s OK that grief seemed to grip my heart for no reason. It snuck up on me this weekend mowing the lawn as I was hit by the vast number of dandelions populating my yard. Realization that Kraig took care of them each year dawned on me. As I started to wonder how I’d figure out what he used the sob rose in my chest as my heart protested, “But I don’t want to have to take care of this…this one more thing I must figure out.” I was glad the mower was loud and the kids couldn’t hear me sobbing as I hurried to finish the yard ahead of a storm.

Both Saturday and Sunday had some hard moments in the midst of really good stuff. I think that might be why I feel lost—nothing other than dandelions seemed to cause this. Maybe stress of trying to prepare to move played in there as well. That’s stressful under the best of circumstances. And the best of circumstances these are not.

Tonight as I struggled to make it to bedtime, I had to deal with not one but three kids coming up between 9:30 and 10. One sobbing as the reality that Dad would not be here to share in the fun we have planned this summer. One looking for the bathroom and not knowing why she was crying—probably because her brother was. One asking for prayer because scary thoughts were plaguing him as he tried to fall asleep.

“Oh weary mind, Oh troubled soul, all the broken pieces that you hold, turn them over, give them up, and then watch what Jesus does. Oh heavy heart, Oh heavy load, lay it down and let it go, leave your broken yesterday in the open arms of grace….” Nicole sings these words and I reach for them like a salve for a wound. Not once has my faith wavered but this journey is long and exhausting and just when I think I’m emerging from it, another wave crashes on my shore.

“You will walk on waves again, when you have set your gaze on him.” Promise, Nicole? Walking on the waves seems so beyond the possible right at this very moment. “So look up, look up, this is a song about the morning after a long night. So look up, look up, this is a song about believing it’s gonna be alright, when you turn your eyes upon Jesus….” I long for the morning after this long night. I’m tired, so very tired.

As my exhausted body begs for sleep I turn to another song, a newer song. I hope to be able to meet Mr. Chapman at this summer’s Hills Alive music festival when I work it. As a DJ sometimes I get to do that. I want to thank him for the first verse of his newest song, Glorious Unfolding.

Lay your head down tonight
Take a rest from the fight
Don’t try to figure it out
Just listen to what I’m whispering to your heart
‘Cause I know this is not
Anything like you thought
The story of your life was gonna be
And it feels like the end has started closing in on you
But it’s just not true
There’s so much of the story that’s still yet to unfold
And this is going to be a glorious unfolding
Just you wait and see and you will be amazed
You’ve just got to believe the story is so far from over
So hold on to every promise God has made to us
And watch this glorious unfolding

Those words speak to my heart with clarity. I need to lay my head down tonight trusting that God is unfolding something beyond what I could ask or even imagine. How do people without Jesus cope with loss? I cannot fathom the despair that must be magnified without an anchor in the promises that I am not alone and I am not directionless. “Let us remember, this life we’re living is just the beginning of the beginning…” The eternal perspective Steven sings about is truth, is life, is hope.

So tonight I will finish writing and head to bed, trusting once more that tomorrow God will help me care for my kids and direct my paths because I trust Him. He has never failed me and He won’t start now. He will bring the joy and help these wounds continue to heal. He will continue to send me friends and family to offer support and help. He will continue to direct my path because I have asked Him to. Where He leads, I will follow no matter where that path leads.

One day I will look back and see the gloriously unfolding story He walked me through because I kept my eyes on Jesus. For tonight all I need to do is trust Him and get some sleep.

Blessed are the Cheerleaders

After spending the last six and a half months walking through the valley of grief, I need to give a shout out to my cheering section. There are days when life seems to be pretty normal. There are days when hiccups hit me out of nowhere and make me lose my balance. Or there are days when huge waves of grief return to crash on my shores and I’m left soaking wet and feeling lost.

Since the first moments of my nightmare I have not been alone. Yes, I know that God was here. I know without any doubt Jesus walked that dark day with me. But He also sent me others, so many others.

As the weeks and months passed, there have been many who have promised me they are not going anywhere. And they didn’t. That’s an incredible credit to the people I have chosen as friends and the family God gave me. Many people dealing with grief seem to sense that everyone in their support circles vanishes after a few months. I’ve heard of those who feel an expectation to just let it go already, hasn’t it been long enough?

I have received none of that from anyone but myself.

One of my biggest cheerleaders in this process started cheering me on 20 years ago. Kraig said he saw in me the strength he wanted in a wife. His greatest fear was that he would die, leaving his wife and children as his own father had. He wanted to be wise and choose a wife with the strength to keep going, keep living. I am and I will.

The Bible paints a picture in the Hall of Faith in Hebrews 12 that has always made me smile. “For we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses….” The image of the giants of the faith and loved ones who have gone before encouraging us to keep going, cheering us on in our faith, is one that makes me smile. But I think I’m also blessed with my own cloud of witnesses here, now, as I have struggled to tackle the unexpected and keep moving forward.

When those bumps in the journey have arisen, I have been blessed with some of the most encouraging words from several friends and family. Words like:

You are doing amazing!

There is nothing wrong at all with how you are handling this.

Now (months later) is when you need us to still be here.

You are not alone. What can I do?

Of course you can always call me/text me.

I’m so proud of you.

That last one is my favorite. I guess the pat on the back in those words is sometimes all I need to keep moving forward. When I have no idea if I’m making the right parenting decision, I sometimes need to hear that it’s OK. When I’m having a good day but one of my kids gets hit by grief, I need to know I can call someone or text someone and tell them this stinks without being a burden. When I start feeling as if I am a burden to my friends because it’s a bad day, I need to hear this is in my head. I am not forgotten.

I do not spend my days wallowing in a dark room. I do not spend my time lost in grief and unable to function. That’s not the woman my husband married. That’s not the mother my kids deserve. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for my friends to be here and cheer me on. I’m not lost in a morose world looking for others to pull in. I spend my days asking God to lead my steps and making sure I’m still taking steps forward. When grief hits, I let it but only for a while. It does not own me. It is my temporary traveling companion and once it has done its work to help me heal, I will send it on its way. But it does not determine where I go. It is along for this small portion of my journey as I follow Jesus.

So thanks to my cheerleaders. And if you aren’t one of mine and you are reading this, be one for someone else going through grief. Give them time to mourn and encouragement to keep attempting to live life at the same time. Help them find the joy in the everyday and let them weep when they must.

Blessed are the cheerleaders for they are being used by God to help me keep moving forward.

Light Ahead

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when dreams come true at last, there is life and joy.” Proverbs 13:12 Living Bible

For the past six months I have been walking in the valley of the shadow of death. It’s dark here. The walls are steep crags of jagged rocks dotted with simple glimmers of life and hope growing in unexpected places. The walls seem to go up and up forever, though, blocking out most of the light. Maybe it’s to force me to look up towards heaven to see the beautiful blue of the sky overhead—even if it is only a sliver.

This weekend I received my first sign that the end of the valley is approaching. I can see light up ahead. I knew there would be. I knew this path was temporary, is temporary. But it’s hard and it’s sad.

Since the day Kraig died, I have held on to the promises of God. They are truth that brings healing. These wounds are real but I have always known that God walks this valley with me. His rod and His staff comfort me. He will restore my soul. He will lead me if I let him.

After a few months in this valley, I started to feel like I was in limbo; like I was at a crossroads. What next? Where our family has lived has always been determined by Kraig’s career. Now it was up to me to decide where our family belonged. Stay here? His job brought us here. This is not where either of us was from and not near any family. It’s a big world full of great places. So, move? If so, where and why? I have a great support system here and I’ve networked well. I now understand why the best advice to someone in grief is not to make any major life decisions for the first six months to a year. It was all so murky. But the question persisted: what next?

I have always known that God has the best view on my journey. From where He sits He is able to see what is coming next. He directs my paths and, when I allow Him to, He leads me where I should go. I have known that since the day Kraig died. But this valley has still been dark.

For the past several years, a spark of a dream has been growing in my heart. I want to write and speak professionally. I want to be published and to use the gift of words He has given me to encourage and equip women with the story of what God can do.

I believe God whispered this dream to me several years ago when I had no idea how to make it happen. I had been published already in a few magazines. I had spoken publically in small venues for years. This seemed like a good dream. I believe God was speaking through my husband last summer when he suggested this is where I should focus my time and energy once our last little duckling waddled out the door to Kindergarten. He suggested this might be the next step for me. I just had no idea how.

This weekend a friend sent me a glimmer of light. She sent me information on the She Speaks Conference taking place this summer in North Carolina. Put on by the Proverbs 31 Ministries and led by Lysa TerKeurst, this conference offers tools for women longing to use their writing and speaking talents. It helps women start using their gifts to glorify God as leaders, speakers, and writers. It tells me how.

I read the information and I wept.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I had felt without specific hope. I have always had the hope of God’s overarching wisdom and plan for my life. But the specifics for what’s next eluded me. I can see a bit of that now. In front of me the walls of the valley are getting wider, the crags further apart. There is light on the horizon in the distance and it brings with it life and joy just as the proverb promises.

I still have work to do and a long way to go before I am living that dream fully. But I can see the path. I have the wisdom I have been praying for to help me head towards what’s next. I have always known He would turn my mourning into dancing. This week I got to enjoy a few steps of a jig and it felt good.