A Simple Hello…

Happy Sunday to you all!

I’m grateful to be at what some of us consider the end of our week and some consider it to be the beginning of the next week. No one likes to be caught in the “middle” of many things, but this is one time the middle is a good place to be. Take a few minutes and think about what you accomplished this past week. Was it a lot? A little? Nothing? Nothing isn’t really a factor in this question, because if you woke up every day and that’s all you did, you still did something! I’ll admit that this past week started out by showing all the signs of being a week where I would have to dig in and “embrace the suck.” Thankfully I was wrong. Very wrong! Monday was the worst day I had and by Wednesday I was back on track. Getting knocked down isn’t fun, nor is the pain we experience, but we have the ability to get back up and keep moving forward as long as we can breathe. I’m still breathing.

One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn to incorporate into my life since my husband died is the knowing that every time I wake up from a nap or a full night’s sleep: the sting of loss is new in that very second. Daydreaming brings the same sting as well. And if the daydream is about him, I usually have tears streaming down my face without even realizing it. It’s okay. I would rather feel the sting 10,000 times a day than to never experience it. That sting lets me know that he was. And that he is. And that he will be forever in my heart.

As I look back over the life of my blog, I see so much pain and anguish and sadness. I also see strength and grit and and tenderness. Let me admit here and now that I know there were times where it seems I was unfair, and I was. This blog was born out of the worst type of pain I’d ever experienced up until my beloved died and the pain I wrote about sometimes came across as hateful. I really can’t apologize for where I was, though I know I should. I know I’ll never hear an apology directed towards me, and that’s okay, too. The further away from the events of May of 2018, the less power they hold over me. God hasn’t given any of us a spirit of fear, and I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. It’s the same for the pain of grief. The further away from the date my husband finally succumbed to the ravaging effects of his stroke, the pain of grief becomes less harsh. The sting? I can deal with it. I almost welcome it, like I said. It lets me know that he was loved and that I was, too.

I’m not a perfect person, I don’t want to be. I’m perfectly loved and that’s what really makes it possible for me to push my way out of the darkness and live in the light. When we sink to our knees in prayer, we don’t always get the answers we WANT. We get the answers we NEED. We all know there is a difference between want and need. What happened recently isn’t important anymore, it’s what I’ve learned that makes all the difference. I’ve forgiven myself and pray for forgiveness from the person I hurt. I know the saying is “forgive and forget” and I’m good at the former, not the latter. Each day I wake up is another day towards forgetting. This is an area of my life I need to work on. I try, and fail. And try again. And fail, again. Don’t we all?

When life doesn’t turn out like you thought it would, leave the darker parts of it behind you. Let the sun shine upon you and warm your battered spirit. When you cry out to God or the Universe or whatever higher power you believe in and you get no response, look deep within and try to be patient. The answer is out there somewhere, and it will come to you when you truly need it. I got my answer about this past week’s turmoil on Wednesday and now it’s a solid comfort to my spirit. I hope you find the same peace.

Be well dear readers and remember, in a world where you can be anything, please be kind! Until next time…

Finally…

Finally… Look up the definition of the word and you’ll see where I’ve been. “After a long time, difficulty or delay.” (Oxford Language Dictionary)

As a courtesy to those of my followers that may not believe in God, I want to tell you up front that this post will be pretty saturated by my faith. I try not to write about it extensively, but this post calls for it. I won’t be offended if you choose not to read further, and should anyone choose to leave derogatory comments on my site, please know that I’ll just delete them. Thanks.

Finally… I saw him. People talk about seeing their loved one after death in things like butterflies, birds, and the like. I hadn’t experienced that until this morning at precisely 5:30 a.m. EST. I woke gently for once, my cat not making unreasonable demands like she does most days. She was tucked against me, I was warm, and slowly opened my eyes. He was there, like, right there. Standing next to our bed, his head covered by a white hood and I could see the folds in the cloth he was wearing. A simple draping of fabric laid across his broad shoulders and chest. His steady breathing, and the most encompassing sense of peace. Am I insane? Probably. Do I care? Not at all. I’ve been pretty raw since it happened, but not in a bad way. It just felt so real. I know it was him. I’ve often written about hearing him and that still happens. Music is the connection between us and that will never change. I hear him almost everyday. Seeing him? I can’t even…

Finally… I’ve started chasing my degree and my dream to write a book. I’ve been working hard at becoming a student in the 21st century, and it I have to tell you something. You CAN teach an old dog new tricks! I’m living proof! At the age of 59.5 years old, I squashed the inner demons of self-doubt, second-guessing, and over-thinking. And I continue to that every day! It’s not easy, but if something is worth having, it’s worth working your butt off to get it. No matter who other people think I am, the only true opinions that matter are my own. And God’s. Without the foundation of faith I am once again standing on, I couldn’t make my life make sense. People hurt one another. I’ve hurt people I love. I need the healing that only He gives. I want to be connected to others, of course I do. I like people and we’re not created to be alone, so it only makes sense that I would need/want to feel connected. Being connected doesn’t give the person on the other end of that invisible cord the right to hurt me. Nor I them. Things happen. The cord snaps. Sometimes you can bring the ends back together and bind them in a fashion that holds fast again. Sometimes the ends are frayed beyond repair and at some point you have to recognize that things will never go back to the way they were. Wherever you are in your relationships with others, I pray that you’re happy. And whole. That wholeness for me comes from God.

Finally… I’m happy. In the most basic and simple of ways. I’m happy. I have a wonderful family, a few amazing and closer than my own skin friends, and a life that doesn’t look like much to most, but it’s all I need. If you had told me a year ago that I’d be happy again, especially after the death of my husband, I would’ve done one of two things. I’d cry, or tune you out. I still cry, but not like I did a year ago. I try not to tune people out, I fail. We all do. When you get tuned out, it hurts like hell. I don’t want to do that, or feel like that, ever again. The Lord promises us good things, and sometimes those good things come out of bad. Sometimes we have to struggle and beg and cry out to Him to find the answers to our whys. When the answer is revealed, you”ll know it’s from the Father above. How? That I cannot answer. You just know. I know I’ll feel left out or discarded again, it’s human. When I do, I’ll cry out to Him. I’ll hit my knees and pray. Simple, profound, and overpowering. Happiness isn’t impossible to find, it comes from within. And from Him.

Finally… I can look forward and see a little of the path I’m on beginning to blossom with blessings. My best friend is on the transplant list for a kidney. By summer she may have one. After almost 5 years and countless roadblocks, things are beginning to look up. Literally. I can’t fathom losing my spirit sister, and I have very selfish motives for feeling that way. I have never had a friend like her, we are one spirit in two skins. Please pray for her when you read this. God knows who she is and who her potential donor is, that’s all you need to remember. He’s clearing the hurdles in a mighty way as I type. Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) is no joke. Please consider becoming an organ donor, or even a living donor, if you feel led. Giving the gift of you, in some form, can alter a life. A family. A community. The world…

Finally… I’ll end here. I wish the snow would! It’s snowing here in southwestern PA, and it sucks. I’m so ready for warmth and sunshine and outdoor play time. I hope that if you’re reading this, you’re happy and warm and safe. If you have a partner, hug him/her. Just because you can. Please pray that God continues to help me heal and move from grief to peace. I’m hopeful that somewhere out there is a person willing to accept me as I am, and that I can open my heart to someone else again. If companionship for me isn’t part of God’s plan, please pray that I find the inner strength I’ll need to live out the remainder of my earthly life in service to others. For, with, and because of Him…

Trees

It’s been a while, thank you for reading…

I’ve been praying a word a day since 1/1, a guided devotional supplies a new word each day. Today’s word is tree. It got me thinking that growth is always possible. Even at its weakest stage, a tree will reach towards the sunlight to be fed. I am as a tree, sprouting, reaching growing and seeking the water I need to survive. The Living Water supplies all my needs.

Job 14:7 reads; At least there is hope for a tree; If it is cut down it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail.

As the one year anniversary (angelversary) of my beloved’s death approaches, I can feel myself wanting to hide, to become dormant as a tree in winter. Still living, but resting so deeply, the trees appear dead. As a grieving wife, I’m incredibly sad. As a grown woman, shaped and molded by the life I’ve lived, I know I’ll continue to grow if I just nuture the roots of my being. Sunlight, clouds, rain and time all contribute to the nurturing, all gifts from the Father above.

No matter what you do or don’t belive when it comes to God, I hope you all know that you are part of my growth, even if you can’t see it. I’ve been planted in fertile and giving ground, and for that I thank God. As my journey towards relationship with our Heavenly Father continues, know that without the support of all of you, I wouldn’t grow. You are my sunlight, my rain and my soil…

Charles River in Bellingham, MA. Photo by Barb Enos.

Dear America,

I stopped watching and reading the news months ago because your intentional decline is not something I wish to participate in. It’s shameful that we, as a collective nation, vilify and sabotage one another for nothing more than monetary and political gain. I never thought I would become apathetic towards the nation we served for so many years, yet I have. How is it okay for politicians to promote gun ownership over the right of high school students to live? Follow the money trail…

When did it become permissible for people to show such blatant hate towards one another? Not a single one of us can prevent the color, or lack thereof, of our skin. This is a racist nation, no doubt about it, though within this nation there are people willing to reach across the proverbial aisle and hold the hand of someone who looks different. Those who are unwilling to admit that America has failed people of ALL colors? Follow the money trail…

You don’t want to get vaccinated? Don’t. Plain and simple. I’d like to ask you to pay the increases in MY health insurance to cover the costs of YOUR treatments. Not willing? Follow the money trail…

You want to prevent safe abortions for women in need? You claim to be “pro-life?” You’re not, you’re pro-birth. Life happens between birth and 18. Who is going to support this babe that was forced on a 14 year old child that was raped? Who is going to provide a life to the homeless teenagers and women that society has turned its back on? Where is the pro-life movement in these situations? Follow the money trail…

America, if you think you’re still a powerful and respected nation on the world’s stage, think again. As a nation we are rapidly heading towards a failed state status. If you’re not white, rich and of the male gender, you simply don’t matter. Why? Follow the money trail…

My rant may make you mad, it’s supposed to. I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t live in a grand house, just a small and older apartment. I don’t have all the answers, but I know the One who does. I believe in God, and I have many friends that don’t. I walked away myself many years ago. I came back because I was nothing without Him. Whether you believe or not isn’t something that I can make change, but I can pray for ALL souls, and I do. It’s MY time I’m wasting if that’s what you think. MINE, not yours. I have seen with my own eyes what the Hand of God can do, and I choose to follow Him, not the money trail… Do churches succumb to the almighty (not) dollar? Every single day! Are all pastors, priests, clergy, and churchgoers above reproach? Not by a long shot. Am I? Ah, not even close. I am one among millions lost and struggling to find a place in this country where love is present in spite of politics and money. I am one among millions that never seems to be heard by the masses. It’s okay. God hears me, that’s all I need.

This very morning I made the mistake of reading the headlines and am appalled, as I always am these days, by the level of hate, discourse and downright meanness of the press at large. ALL of it. I bleed for this country that once showed such great promise, but is now so divided, I’m bleeding out. If my bleeding to death on the altar of America would solve our problems, I’d willingly sacrifice myself for the future generations to know a kinder, more accepting place to live. I don’t have enough money to buy a politician, and I pray I never do. As a people, we are to blame. Yes, we are… We vote the same people into office year after year after year, and yet seem surprised that things don’t improve! Do you know the definition of insanity???

America, I miss the promise of you. I miss the days when respect was normal and kindness mattered. Now it’s all about dumbing down, fleecing, blaming and, most importantly, money. Follow the money trail…

Things I Wish I Could Say…

To the demons that keep trying to beat me down…

I wish I could say…

I’ve spent more time in the past 30 days giving you space in my head, and heart, than I’d like to admit. I want to reclaim it. The space, not the time. Thank you for understanding.

I wish I could say…

Oh wait, you don’t understand, do you? You don’t know what you said, and that what you’ve said over the past year has been hurtful on so many levels. I didn’t want to believe those thoughts that were spoken out loud. I wanted to believe that because I was hurting then, as I am now, that you couldn’t possibly be who someone said you were. What a fool I’ve been.

I wish I could say…

Sometimes break ups are beyond painful for both parties involved. Somehow I think that you’ll fail to feel pain. Relief and freedom will be your first thoughts, and reactions, to this break-up. I hope that’s true as I never wanted to hurt you. I know what I need to say, and I should have said it long ago. I’ve been absent on purpose. I didn’t want my words to pierce your heart the way yours have pierced mine.

I wish I could say…

I’m done crying over you and am taking back the space in my head, and heart, and re-purposing it. I’m giving it back to the one that makes me feel safe. I will pray for you. Over and over and over again. When I ran back to God, He embraced ALL of me. ALL of my brokenness. ALL of my hurts. ALL of my shame. ALL of my guilt. ALL of my regret. ALL OF ME…

I wish I could say…

When I love, I love hard. I don’t regret loving you, I’m just more cautious now. More guarded. More protective of the pieces of me that you stole and stomped on. More aware that not everyone that says they love me mean it. It’s okay. I’m okay. I hope that you’re okay. It’s a lonely, cruel world, and even more so now that I’ve realized you are not safe for me. I love you, I just have to do it from a distance.

I wish I could say…

Someday, when the sun shines on your face and you turn toward the sun, I hope you can feel my love for you. I will always love you, I just don’t know how to trust you with MY heart anymore. I pray that you find peace in your new life without me, and that you’ll know that I miss you. I’ll miss you always.

I wish I could say…

I believe this isn’t the life we were meant to have, it’s what we’ve got. I would sell my soul back to you if it meant you could give me what I want, but you can’t. I know this now. I accept this. I am no longer as a child, believing you because it’s what I’m supposed do. I don’t believe in you, I don’t know you well enough anymore to display that kind of faith.

I will say…

Remember always to be kind to one another.

Seek joy. Promote Peace. Love fiercely.

Shenandoah National Park Photo by Barb Enos

365 (Plus One)

Hey Everyone,

It’s been a bit, and I’m still hanging in, missing my husband. Nothing new there.

365 plus one? 365 days ago, plus one, my beloved husband was discharged from the Polytrauma Unit of the Richmond, Virginia Veteran’s Hospital. I would sell my soul to the devil himself if it meant I could erase the last 365 days. Erase and start over. As we all know, time is the one thing that we can’t replace. We can’t save it. It doesn’t earn interest, and sadly, it hasn’t yielded a profit.

I’ve begun to look ahead, finally, in a healthy, though sad, way. I’m beginning to make plans for a future that will not include my husband in the physical sense, but it will bring much honor to his memory. I have been seeking and researching resources that will help me navigate my way as a widow and I’ve found a non-profit organization that I seem to fit with. I am hoping to connect with others who have lost someone that served, maybe even become a mentor some where down the road. I am taking it one step at a time, but have a good feeling in my gut that I have finally found a new, but familiar village. I have been so supported by my family and friends and I know they all will continue to hold my hand. The organization I found will give me purpose again, something I haven’t felt since my beloved died. He was my purpose for so long, and now I have to make me, and honoring his memory, my purpose.

365 days ago, plus 2, is when I came back to Boston. The day before my husband. 365 days ago, plus one, I was denied the opportunity to meet my husband at the rehab facility he was admitted to and I’ve been upset by that ever since. 365 days ago, Covid-19 was a blanket excuse for everything, including NOT being allowed to even greet my husband in the parking lot of said facility. I’ve tried for over a year now to be heard by someone that actually gives a crap about the lack of compassionate care shown to my husband, but to no avail. All the countless hours writing to State and Federal officials, the media, the corporation that owns that horror house my husband was in has been for naught. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and more than a hundred hours making noise, but all I’ve been met with is silence. I had promised myself if the law firm I contacted wouldn’t help me, I would stop. I’ve stopped making noise. To say I am beyond disappointed in my local and federal representatives is an understatement. I am not rich. I am not even close to being so. I vote, but why? Because of the lack of communication, I no longer care about those I’ve voted for. I have approximately 340 days left to find peace. I can’t afford the costs of maintaining my anger and hurt, I have to let go. For me. I fought as hard as I could, I begged. I pleaded. I humiliated myself. I filed a formal complaint with the MA Dept. of Public Health. I’ve followed up on my follow ups to the point that I’ve had to say I’m done.

365 plus days ago I never thought I would become a widow at the age of 58. It’s been just shy of four months since I held my husband’s hand and watched him breathe his last breath. He was 59. 21,629 days. Add a few leap years in and maybe he was 21, 640 days old. Not nearly enough days on this earth. Not nearly enough years spent as a married couple. But… He certainly changed my entire world in those 21K+ days. He loved me. He was my safety net, my lover, my man and my heart. He is still all of those things, and more. He is my guardian angel, he is my Morgan’s (our dog that died in July 2020) constant companion now. He is still the Poppy our grandchildren will always miss, and he’s the Poppy I will help them remember. No one will ever take his place. No one will know me like he did, or kiss me like he did. No one will tease me (thank God!) like he did. No one will ever rage behind the wheel of my Mini like he could have. So many things that he was good at, so many things he made his own. Including me. Of those 21K+ days, he was in my life for about 16,430 of them. More than half his life, and mine. Days…

As I mentioned above, I’m finally beginning to feel like I am able to move forward. One baby step at a time. I’m not really stronger than I was last time I wrote, I think the fog is starting to lift. I see things from a clearer set of eyes. Well… not really. I have to have cataract surgery and will find out when on the 23rd of June. Anyway, I know that grief will never not be a part of my life again, but I also know that how I continue to walk it out and learn from it is key to my survival. I WANT to be happy. I WANT to smile more. I WANT to laugh more. Every time I think I can’t get up, I do. I cry and rage and hide, but I also turn my face to the sun and pray for self peace. I can see a pin-prick of light shining through the darkness.

When I started this blog, I had no idea that it would shift from being an erased grandparent and parent to becoming a widow. I had no idea that any one would care to read the ramblings of a woman the world doesn’t know. I am blessed beyond measure to have the opportunity to keep writing and I thank all of you that take the time to read my prose. Writing frees my heart, it gives me an outlet for my pain, and I hope it helps someone else realize that they are not alone. We all have trials. We all bleed red. We all hurt. I know, because of all of you, I don’t have to hurt alone. Thank you all. I’ve pasted a link to a song that has been helping me lately, I hope it helps you as well. Be kind, always, and know that in Boston is a woman who appreciates you so much!

I’d like to know…

Hi all,

I’d like to know when I’m going to feel like myself again, but I already know the answer. Never. Never, ever, ever will I be the same person I was just three months ago. Or six. Or twelve. The person I was when I was part of an us is now just a me and I am not looking forward to getting to know her. No at all. I don’t want to but know that I have to. I’ve basically been on auto pilot, going through the motions of daily living, but finding no solace in the life I am now living. I pray that changes, but more than that, I pray I can hold on to myself until the sun shines on my life again.

I’d like to know why the grief process is getting harder instead of getting easier. Why? Haven’t I been through enough over the past three and a half years? I know some of what I am feeling is part regret, part guilt and mostly loneliness. I don’t want to acknowledge the loneliness, but it’s there and it’s real and it hurts. So much. I have been talking with my therapist when I can, reaching out to family members and friends, but the void inside me feels bigger every day, not smaller. I’m adrift in the sea of despair and cannot see the horizon beyond the waves.

My heart is still shattered and I know why. That’s not something I’d like to know, to be honest. I know the why of his death, the why of his stroke, the why of his decline. It seems all of the answers I know are not at all the ones I want to know. I want to know how long it will take to be okay. Will I ever be again? I used to think I would be, but now? Now all I see when I look in the mirror is a broken, aimless and sad woman looking back at me. That same woman that was full of fight for her beloved doesn’t seem to exist within me any longer. I want to feel useful, like I have purpose, and I don’t. I don’t know how to move forward. I’m stuck. Bogged down by the weight of grief, loneliness and a longing for my husband that runs so deep I’m drowning in the quicksand of it all.

Before any of you reading this begin to think I am on the edge of hurting myself, please don’t worry that way. I have been in touch with the people closest to me and they know I’m feeling fragile and scared. I reached out to my husband’s Psychologist from the hospice he was in just this morning and she sent me some resources to check out to help me deal with some of the darkest emotions I have ever experienced. I thought, just three years ago, that losing my oldest daughter to the estrangement she forced on to us was hard… It was. We survived. My husband and I held each other up and learned that we could still be happy. We worked really hard at being happy. That event, and the strength it took to thrive seems a precursor to the magnitude of emotion I’m facing now. My husband can’t hold me, he can’t hug me and he can’t encourage me to find my way through the pain. I’m alone in this, but I’m not. It’s a personal journey, but there has to be a side-car available from time to time to allow someone to accompany me. My family has been beyond wonderful, my close friends seem to know when I’m struggling. Letting others in is so not easy, but if I want to come out on the other side of this with even a small portion of sanity intact, I need to keep letting people see my darkness. I believe I can find the open window, in spite of the door that has been nailed shut. I’m just tired of being sad.

I’d like to know that I’d wake up tomorrow with a lighter heart, I just don’t think think it’ll be that easy. I need to find a way to give myself some grace, I say that very thing to the people I love when they’re hard on themselves. Taking my own advice seems like a good idea. It seems like solid, easy advice. It’s easy to give… Not so easy to incorporate into my own life. At least not right now…

Please, send me positive vibes, pray for me and know that I am so grateful that you care enough to read the ramblings of my broken heart. I never thought it would be like this for me, especially since I know with all that I am that my husband is not suffering any more. I wouldn’t wish the suffering he went through on my worst enemy, I’m just not that cruel. I never dreamed that his suffering coming to an end would be the ultimate breaking point for me. I keep thinking that his suffering has ended and mine has just begun. I want to be happy again, I just don’t know how to be. I want to move forward, but I’m stuck…

Until next time…

The Unexpected…

Hi All,

Today started off like any other day has as of late. I got up at 6:30, wandered on in to the kitchen, made my coffee and emptied the dishwasher. Started laundry. Ate cereal with a banana. Tried to solve a daily word puzzle. Headed upstairs and took a shower. All very routine and almost taken for granted. Almost…

The first unexpected thing happened when I was in the shower. I always listen to The Message on Sirius/XM while in the shower and my phone sits on the little stool by the radiator. I knew someone had texted me when I was in the shower by the loss of volume in the music. It irritated me. Three times it irritated me before I was done. Seems excessive, doesn’t it? To get irritated by something I couldn’t control… When I finally got out of the shower and looked at the phone, it was my work that texted me to tell me there was no work for PVD’s with UPS today. Not a big deal, but the first hiccup of the days plan. After drying my hair and brushing my teeth, I came downstairs and got dressed in comfy sweats and my favorite Jim Brickman hoodie. Warm socks completed my ensemble. Not a fashionista by any stretch of anyone’s imagination. Actually, I never am and I’m so okay with that. The older I get the more I realize that I am exactly who I need to be. For me. For my family. And for my friends. Being more is not necessary.

After getting dressed I talked with one of my friend’s for a while and then wandered into the quiet living room to watch Breaking Dawn parts 1 and 2, but didn’t. Another unexpected opportunity presented itself. I switched gears from Vampires, to God. Yes, that God. I watched the movie about Jeremy and Melissa Camp and Jeremy’s song “I Still Believe.” The beginning of the film was easy, but not 30 minutes in, it became very painful to watch. What wasn’t painful? As I watched I began to realize that I have been so stuck inside my own pain that my prayers have become almost remote. Push a button, pray. Blink your eyes, pray. Walk down memory lane, pray. I could feel the pain that both Jeremy and Melissa experienced because of the circumstances of their life, but more than that, I was encouraged by the strength of faith possessed by them. I was reminded in a most personal and powerful way that the struggles and pain I face every day are insurmountable when facing them in the human sense. I am not alone. I know this and I’ve said it many times throughout the past 14+ months. My heartbreak is real, raw and seems to never end. My faith can be weak, scattered and seem not enough, but it is. I am loved.

The movie touched me deep inside, and knowing the story of Jeremy and Melissa Camp going into watching the movie didn’t make it any easier to come to terms with what is happening in my life. Or in the life of my husband. The movie affected me in an unexpected way. The movie brought me introspection. I’ve been thinking since the movie ended about how I can pray differently for my husband. How I can pray in a more meaningful, authentic way. I wish the movie could’ve brought me relief from the never ending streams of tears that seem to seep from my eyes all the time. Today it’s been 48 days since I’ve seen him in person and I think this forced period of isolation is much harder on me than I have been willing to admit. The movie made me see this. No matter how old or young we are, when the person that we love the most is suffering, we suffer, too. I have been trying to “manage” my pain, but it’s been managing me. I have no idea how much longer my husband has here, or if I’ll ever see him again, but I still believe…

I never expected to be where I am at this point in my life. I thought that we would be living in our little 1970’s ranch home in the rural Berkeley county area of SC. I thought we would playing with our grandchildren, having meals as a family unit with their parents. I thought we would be going to church together and raising our hands, and hearts, the the Lord in thanks. I still thank Him, but it doesn’t always make sense to me. I’m human, and selfish, and hurting. I want to hug my husband, I want to see my daughter, I want to have a margarita with my friends. I want… but can’t have. This season of pain and uncertainty has given me pause to examine my life in a very critical and almost too harsh way. Almost being the key word. What’s unexpected about that? The examination has brought me to a place of understanding and surrender. Both extremely difficult things to accept. I understand that my husband had a stroke and that he lived a hard life by choice. I don’t understand the amount of suffering and pain he’s living in right now. I know I never will. So I say welcome, to surrender. I have to surrender him and his pain to a higher power. I have to surrender my heartache and my tears to the God I believe in. I have to believe that the greater plan in all of this will be healing, just not in the sense of earthly healing. I have to believe that there will be unexpected gifts of love, compassion and peace somewhere down the proverbial road. If I lose my belief in what is coming, I may as well just give up. Not. Gonna. Happen.

I am no theologian. I am not, by any means, an expert in prayer, surrender or the ways of God. I do not claim to have any answers, never mind all the answers. What I can tell you… God, as I know Him, loves me. Me. The kid who was abused as a child, the teenager that was defiant, the woman that was treated with disdain and hatred by her own flesh and blood. I am still loved. Me. He loves me. He knows my name and I am worthy of His love. Because God loves me I know I will make it through this and whatever unexpected things happen in the future. As a child I believed the way I was taught, now I believe in the way that has brought me home, much like the Prodigal son in the Bible. I know that there are people out there that believe I am still not a “true” believer, but I don’t worry about all that. My relationship with God is mine, not theirs, and I don’t need their approval. Nor do I need their permission to believe the way I do. God loves me. Me. That has to enough… And it is…

If you need to be prayed for, please reach out to me. We are not meant to do life alone and I would be honored to add you and your prayer needs to my prayer journal. If you don’t believe in God, that’s okay, you still might want to connect with someone in this vast and lonely world. You’re not alone. Whatever unexpected things you’re facing, you are NOT alone…