Business as Usual?

I know many people assume that when I am not posting anything new, things must be going well.  Other people I know begin to pray more for me when I am not writing because they recognize that it could mean I am pulling away, going deeper inside the box.  The second is more the truth.  Even though I appear as if I am functioning and doing my daily tasks, the longer I operate outside the box, the more I go inside the box on the inside.  Sometimes I must function for longer periods of time outside, but all I really want to do is disappear to my room and focus on my aching heart that is always present, no matter what I am doing or where I am.  As I get busy with life schedules and decision making, and the longer I go without writing, the more lonely and sad I am and the more I feel the need to allow myself to pull away to be quiet, write, reflect, cry without anybody watching, and do nothing.  The more I write, the better I am on a daily basis.  Facing the reality daily by writing about my feelings is much better than staying in a busy state which does not allow me the time to feel, discern, contemplate my life, or to hear from God.  There must be a balance between the two and my emotional state seems to suffer when I stay in one place too long, inside or outside.  Most all of the time, it is too much time outside.

I am reading a little book, off and on, called Good Grief, by Granger Westberg.  He explains, “People are off talking about other things and we are left alone with our sorrow. Everyone has forgotten our tragedy.”  This feels so true.  It is easy for everyone else to move on and some can assume that we are moving right along the same as they have…but we are left alone with our sorrow.  He goes onto say, “The pace of modern life may have something to do with this.  The minute people finish one event they are off to another and another….Most people do not take time to help work through another’s losses.  We also find, when we attempt to get back into life again, it is much too painful.  We would rather grieve than fight the battle of coping with new situations.  Grieving is painful, but not as painful as having to face entirely new decisions every hour.  We are more comfortable in our grief than in the new unpredictable world.”  This is also true.  Even though grieving, in and of itself, is difficult, it can often be more painful to face new decisions every hour.  It is much easier to stay in a place where decisions can be avoided, but that is not possible.  It is a hard but good thing in the healing process to make new decisions and face all of the realities that your loved one is gone, life is and must go on, and it is going to hurt.  All of the decisions are hard and painful, no matter how big or small.  It becomes exhausting to face new decisions for long periods of time. 

I begin to carry more grief on the inside because I feel like people are tired of hearing about it, are ready to move on and want me to do the same.  I still need to talk about it.  I have more questions in my head now than I have had this whole time.    Westberg continues to say, “Our modern way of life makes it difficult for us to grieve about any loss in the presence of other people.  We are forced to carry all of the grief within ourselves.”…Case in point, the need for me to go to my room to really let down.  “This is particularly true in the loss of a loved one through death.  When many of us were children, people grieved more openly.  The men wore black armbands and the women wore black veils for six months to a year….so that everyone was reminded daily of their loss.  But we somehow have the impression that grief is out of place in our society.  We conduct a quiet conspiracy of silence against it.  We try never to talk about grief, and certainly never display it by any outward sign.  We offer our sympathy to our grieving friends immediately after their loss has occurred, but from then on we say in effect, ‘Now, let’s get back to business as usual again.’ “ 

A friend of mine told me on the phone that she noticed people avoiding her and the subject of her losing her father.  It hurt her.  She said,” People are missing out by not sharing in the grieving process.  It enriches the lives of both people.”   Death is as much as a part of this life experience as life itself.  We can learn as much from it as we can from life. It takes a long time to work  your way through the fog that seems to settle on the road ahead.  Why do people want to rush through it, push it away or down as if it is not really there?  This is life, we must deal with death, grow in wisdom and compassion through it with our friends as they walk through their loss.

As I wrote in a previous post in April, entitled  “It’s a Long Road”....

It is a long road.  To my friends and family, please hang in there with me.  Allow me to take my time, handle me with care, hug me, listen - not too much advice, love, pray often,  join me when I stop to rest, and remember this great man with me and what a great loss it is to not have him with us in this life.  Yes, it is heaven's gain, but we are still on this earthly journey towards heaven, and it hurts.

Hard, but Good

So many times I have found myself answering a question that I am often asked, “So how was it?” , referring to something that I have had to experience that would have been difficult for me, with the short response of, “it was hard but good.”  When I say that, I am trying to say that it was a very difficult thing for me to have to walk through, but it was good for me to press through and do it anyway.  Sometimes it is hard and not good.  In other words, it was hard and I feel like I did not gain any strength, courage, understanding, or release of pain from having to do it.  Going to the beach with my children to visit Nanette and Peter without Michael was hard but good for us to share in our grieving with such close friends.  Writing on my blog is hard for me to gather up all that I am feeling and put words on it, then cry as I experience it again as I read my own words, but it is good for my emotional state. Sending Michael Anthony off for three and a half weeks of camp this summer was hard, but good for building his self confidence and learning to rely on his inner strength.  Going to the beach this past spring by ourselves without Michael for the first time was hard, but good for our health, reflection time, and our time of bonding as a new family unit.  Watching the children’s piano recital was hard but good because of the strength and confidence that grew in the hearts of my children from having to overcome such great obstacles to get to the recital day.  Going to the cemetery for the first time by myself was hard, but a good time of solitude, talking to God,  and crying for Michael.  Attending all of the business meetings with attorneys and financial people are hard and not very good because they are reminders that Michael is no longer a part of this arrangement and I am having to trudge through all of these decisions alone.  Choosing a head stone and bench for the cemetery was hard, not good.  Signing off on all of the proofs for the wording on them both would come in an email form  and it was hard, not good.  I could be sitting anywhere in public, do a quick glance at my emails and a proof for one of them would pop up and I had to just sit there and act like it was just another email.  This was hard, not good.

Some things in life are hard but build character, or you can at least see the lesson that will be learned when you get to the other side. Other times, things are just plain hard and we can’t always see the good in it.   Most things right now are plain hard, just making daily decisions can sometimes be hard.  There are many more things that I am going to have to experience this year that will be hard.  Will they be good for me too?  I don’t know.  There is always more to learn and more room for growth.  I am still taking things one day at a time….even a half a day at a time. 

Member of the Fellowship of the Unashamed - Part 2

….I am (still) part of the “Fellowship of the Unashamed” And when He comes to get His own, He’ll have no problems recognizing me.  My colors will be clear….

Yesterday, I felt like I was reading the “Fellowship of the Unashamed”, as a whole, for the first time.  I understood the gist of it when I heard it that day it was read at the memorial service, but I did not take in a lot of the details.  Much of it overwhelmed me yesterday, in my thoughts, as I read each little statement of faith, confidence, and surety.  I was reminded that Michael and I were co-laborers in Christ.  We stood firmly together in our beliefs; we had  “ stepped over the line” together and joined the Fellowship of the Unashamed as a powerful twosome for the kingdom of God.  “Small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals” were not in our path set before us.  We made many decisions for our lives that were unpopular with friends, family, and strangers.  We never cared because we knew and trusted God’s ways, His gentle leading in our lives, His voice, and always tried to stay Kingdom minded in all of our decisions.  Listening to His voice was all that mattered.  It is easier to have a clear mission when your parameters are clearly set.  Being a member of the Fellowship of the Unashamed establishes your parameters for you.  It makes it easier to stay the course.  We leaned, or pressed in, through our lives with faith, loved by patience, lived by prayer, and labored by power.  Our faces were set towards the road God had chosen for us.  Our gait was fast, our goal was heaven, our road was narrow, the way was rough, our companions were few, but our Guide was reliable.  Yesterday, when I read the part that says, “my gait is fast,” it jumped out at me. 

When I come across emotions or memories about that which I want to write and further develop my thoughts, or give myself a time and a place to cry about something, I write the thoughts down on a running list to go back to later when I am in the right place to face them.  About two months ago, I wrote down, “My Gait”.  I noticed how markedly different it was and still is.  I have always had a fast gait. I walked with a purpose, a mission, everywhere I went.  It was a confident gait.  It was athletic at times.  My head was always up and my gaze was always looking ahead in the direction that I was going.  If walking in a building, I would walk right past people sometimes, without acknowledging them because my mind would be completely engrossed in the thoughts necessary for the place I was heading and the people with whom I would be meeting…my gait is different now.  It is much slower.  My head is bent down most of the time.  My gaze is usually at my feet or on the ground before me.

 I know I will get my gait back one day, but having the wind knocked out of me has caused me to take things at a different pace and each step requires contemplation of why I believe what I believe, what kind of a story am I living in here in this life, am I strong enough to play the role I have been chosen to play, where do I need to change my thinking, (if anywhere), and all of the other questions that seem to come across my mind as I walk with my slower gait.   I have to rethink things.  I am still confident and sure in Christ.  I still believe that my Guide is reliable.  I am having the biggest paradigm shift in my entire life.  I can be confident and sure in Christ, but it changes beyond that.  My purpose and mission remain the same and I have told this to my children. Our purpose for the choices we have made for our lives has not changed just because Michael is no longer with us.   I am still a member of the Fellowship of the Unashamed.  I shall not be moved.  It is with much more depth, wisdom, and discernment that I take each step.

Member of the Fellowship of the Unashamed – Part 1

My dad shared this story at Michael's memorial service.  I had not heard it before that day.

One day, while Michael and I were engaged, he walked into my Dad’s office in downtown Jackson, when he noticed something framed and hanging on the wall.  It was something titled, “Fellowship of the Unashamed.”  After Michael read it to himself, he looked at my Dad, and said, “I’m a member of that too!” About 20 years later, Michael walked into my Dad’s pastoral office at the church in Otsego, Michigan, and noticed again the same thing hanging on the wall.  He put his hand flat onto the framed piece on the wall, and said, “Pop,” which is what he began calling him early on in our marriage, “I’m still a member!”

Fellowship of the Unashamed

I am part of the “Fellowship of the Unashamed.”  I have Holy Spirit power.  The die has been cast.  I’ve stepped over the line.  The decision has been made.  I am a disciple of His.  I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still.  My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure.  I am finished with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals!  I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity.  I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded.  I now lean by faith, love by patience, live by prayer, and labor by power.  My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions few, my guide reliable, my mission clear.  I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed.  I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.  I won’t give up, shut up, let up, or slow up ‘til I’ve preached up, prayed up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ.  I am a disciple of Jesus.  I must go ‘til He comes, give ‘til I drop, preach ‘til all know, and work ‘til He stops.  And when He comes to get His own, He’ll have no problems recognizing me.  My colors will be clear.

Michael was a disciple of Jesus.  He never looked back, let up, slowed down, backed away, or stood still.  He leaned by faith, loved by patience, lived by prayer, and labored by the power of the Holy Spirit.  He was never bought.  He never compromised, detoured, or was lured away from the road set before him.  He did not negotiate with the enemy, care about popularity, or do anything with mediocrity.  He belonged to Jesus, and I know He had no problem recognizing Michael at the gates of heaven.  His colors were clear.  I am sure He looked at him and said, “This one I know.” 

Would He recognize you?

With This Ring….

… I thee wed, to have and to hold, from this day forward….  ‘til death do us part.

 I am now beginning to look at my wedding ring, which is still on my left hand, after exactly five months today of being a widow, and am in a quandary over what to do. So what now?  Just take it off and put it in my jewelry drawer? This ring, which I have never taken off except when mixing raw, ground meat with my hands?  This ring, which made me, feel protected? This ring that made me feel loved and honored?  This ring that stood for my steadfast commitment and fidelity “ ‘til death do us part”? This ring, which I spin around with my thumb on cold days?   This ring, which symbolized to me all that it was meant to symbolize?  This step is a tough one for me……. a first that I am dragging my feet towards.  Removing this symbol of my covenant with Michael is much harder than simply slipping a ring off of my finger.  I loved our set of rings.  They were so “us”.  He chose Italian gold, of course, 18 karat gold instead of 14, with texture and design…not just smooth bands with a diamond solitaire sitting on top.  (Not that there is anything wrong with those kinds of wedding rings, it was just not us.)

When I was told about Michael’s accident, I did not want to believe it was him in that car who had died until they brought me back his wedding ring and his Italian gold crucifix necklace, both of which he never took off…then I would know.  I am wearing both now around my neck.   I know there are all kinds of options that I can do with the rings, like wear them on my right hand and put a different ring on my wedding finger, or make them into a necklace of some creative kind, but then it becomes a new symbol all together.  A symbol of the past, something that used to be, something to be remembered – not something to live by daily.  It could also be a symbol of hope in all things good.  It was a good marriage, a solid marriage, a marriage based on godly principles, a marriage that defied mainstream and did not become a divorce statistic, a marriage that stood for something, a marriage that withstood the storms. I don't know if there will ever be the perfect time to remove it from my finger.  One day soon, I will probably just need to do it without putting any more thought into it, just dive in and get it over with.  (I tried this method this past week when it was time to pick figs from our fig trees.  Michael ordered and planted the trees because he loved them. It was a nod to his Italian heritage and his childhood memories of his Papaw.  Michael picked the figs during harvest season and would pop a few in his mouth on his way back to the kitchen, then would enter commenting on their beauty and perfection. I decided to just grab a bowl after dinner and march outside to get all of the bright, purply red fruit from the tree. No pomp and circumstance, just go do it.  With every fig I removed from the tree, I was thinking,"I can do this. I can do this." It did not really work.  Tears were still in the rim of my eyes and there was no joy or beauty in the moment that should be present in the harvesting of something you grew yourself. Making the fig tarts would not be the same without Michael drooling over their beauty and flavor.  My sister Julie is going to make the tarts for me this year.  So much for the idea of just sucking it up and doing it.) 

No, I think I will need to do it in a calm moment of solitude in my bedroom.  I will probably remove it, admire it, remember his proposal, kiss it, and put it safely in the original ring box until I can decide how I want to wear it again, in a new, creative and thoughtful way. 

With this ring, we became one… for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health.  Our wedding vows were more than mere words to recite.  They were promises we meant to keep, and we did.  

The Lump in My Throat

In my blog entry, “Heart Broken”, I talked about having an ever-present lump in my throat and mistaking it for a sore throat.

Several times over the past month I have thought that I was getting a sore throat.  I realized one day that I was experiencing something new.  There was an ever-present lump in my throat ready to cry at any second. It is large and sometimes stuck down in the bottom of my throat, as if I have just swallowed a big, hard air bubble.  Where does that lump come from anyway?  Why can you sometimes cry with a lump in your throat or without? I have had a lump in my throat for a little over 5 weeks now.  I keep swallowing and crying but it does not seem to go anywhere.  It’s a broken heart.  It swells before it can heal.

The lump came back about 10 days ago.  It hurts to hold a lump in your throat and push the cry back down there somewhere…. where ever it goes.  I have cried it out many times, but it is just not enough.  The lump is still there. It will just rise up out of the deep and get lodged in my throat.  My broken heart is taking a long time to heal. 

My sister, Julie, just moved back to Mississippi to be near me and to help in any way she can.  On one of our first days of doing some real chatting, face to face, she was trying to open up a dialogue to discuss my future needs and determine some ways that she could be of help to me.  I was listening clearly, and then she said something about my needs, “down the road” or “future needs”.  Suddenly, the lump appeared and I was in a zone… completely zoned out and facing a harsh reality of Michael not being in my future.  I was all right talking about my present needs, but discussing where my needs would be in the future?  This meant that I would still be alone in the future.  Michael is not in my future, at least not on this earth.  The tears began to flow as I tried to picture life as a single parent.  I wanted to ask her, “He’s really not coming back, is he?”  Not that I thought he was going to walk in the door at any moment, I think it is just something psychological that causes us to have a hard time making that realistic break from the past to, “this is the way it is going to be from now on.”  I have pushed that lump down several times while typing this blog post. I have to push it down and keep it at bay much of today since I will be traveling to take Julia to her swimming state championships, which lasts four days.  Today, I must operate in full parent mode…. Outside of the box.  I have been inside the box for most of these last two weeks.  I will come out and hold that lump at bay, except when she swims her best times, of course.  When the children compete or perform, it is hard to be a single, proud parent and not remember what it was like to share that pride and joy with their loving father.  The lump needs to come outside of the box sometimes too.

Word of God Speak

After a short night of sleep, I was lying in my bed in the quiet of the day and thinking.  Out of my “not so spiritual” thoughts, I heard the Holy Spirit speak to me and tell me to read in the book of Psalm.  I sat up, grabbed my reading glasses, which I need most during the first part of the morning, took my Bible off of my night stand, and opened it up to the book of Psalm.  I had no idea where to begin.  I have read the book several times but I was not in the mood to read something like, “Come, let us sing joy for the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of salvation.  Let us come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song.”  ……or “Sing to the Lord a new song, sing to the Lord all the earth.  Sing to the Lord; praise His name; proclaim His salvation day after day.  Declare His glory among the nations, His marvelous deeds among all peoples.”  These are words I have heard my whole life in church during the “Call to Worship” portion of the service.  I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and the words, “Word of God speak” came out of my mouth.  While my eyes were still closed, I heard, and felt, a page turn, literally.  I opened my eyes and before me was Psalm 71.  Not knowing exactly where the Holy Spirit was taking me, I decided to read the whole chapter. After reading the first 11 verses, He supplied a prayer, again.  Verse 12 says, “Be not far from me, O God; come quickly, O my God to help me.”  Then, finally, in verse 29, He also supplied me with a promise and a word of encouragement. “Though You have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth You will again bring me up.  You will increase my honor and comfort me again.”  I felt the reminder "And Yet", pull at my heart.  In spite of everything, He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  His word endures forever.  These words I had just read were just as much for me as they were for David.

I wasn’t sure why I said, “Word of God speak” because I had never done that before, but it rose up out of me from somewhere deep in my spirit.   After reading the scriptures, a song came to my remembrance by Mercy Me called, “Word of God Speak”.  Michael had sung it in church before while leading worship.  God is into the details of my life…(He is into yours too.)

Word of God Speak

 By Mercy Me

I'm finding myself at a loss for words

And the funny thing is it's okay

The last thing I need is to be heard

But to hear what You would say

[CHORUS]

Word of God speak

Would You pour down like rain

Washing my eyes to see

Your majesty

To be still and know

That You're in this place

Please let me stay and rest

In Your holiness

Word of God speak

I'm finding myself in the midst of You

Beyond the music, beyond the noise

All that I need is to be with You

And in the quiet hear Your voice

[REPEAT CHORUS 2x]

I'm finding myself at a loss for words

And the funny thing is it's okay