Last week, I attended the funeral of a former co-worker. He was married, had a college-age son and a daughter in high school. He was 51.
I think of his poor wife. She has no idea what is ahead.
The inner ache, missing having her man to look out for her and protect the family... being his priority...the yearning for her husband...no one else knew her like he did. No one will love their children like he did.
And she will discover it's difficult to be sick without your lifemate to care for you.
A couple days ago, I felt a cold catching on. After work, I laid in bed, and the tears flowed. I felt sorry for myself because I realized my late husband would never again tend to me when I'm sick.
I miss how he was attentive to my wants and needs. He wouldn't hesitate to get me soup or juice, pick up my prescription or anything I needed. He would rub my back, or just hold me close. I used to get irritated that he chose my time of misery to want to fool around -- I mean, really! And he always used the same lame reason: "It will take your mind off being sick and make you feel better." And like a dodo bird, I fell for it every time. But he was right! (smile)
He didn't care if I gained/lost weight or times when my hair looked a mess...he made me feel like I was desirable in his eyes, like I was the only woman in the world.
Now, it seems the key words of the day are transition and adjustment.
If you are the survivor of a life partner or spouse. you are in a new and different chapter in your life. Everything has changed. Whereas before, you were connected with your loved one, you are now one. This a stark, raw reality, and it feels like you're forging it alone in this world.
But our Heavenly Father knows and sees. As this blog is appropriately titled, He has been my shelter, my refuge, the very strength I draw from. When I do not know the words to utter in prayer, when all I can say is "Jesus," He is faithful to be my peace. He is there for you, He has never left. It is not for us to question His timing nor His ways, but to accept and ask for strength to move forward.
"Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in Thee. I said to the Lord, 'Thou art my Lord; I have no good besides Thee.'" Psalm 16:1-2
Prayer: Precious Father, thank You for the time we had with our loved ones. To know them and to have been cared for and to have shared love with them is a tremendous gift. Many are experiencing a deep, achy, raw and, at times, agonizing hurt because of the loss of our loved one. Help us to draw near to You, and to draw strength from You. We pray our loved ones are living eternal life in peace and joy with You. Help us to remember that we are never alone as we endeavor to navigate this new and foreign chapter in our lives, because we have You. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Groundswells and Blindsides
This devotional is for anyone who has lost a loved one. The wonder and frustration of grief is that there is no set timeline: as unique individuals, we each cope with loss differently. I lost my husband of 19 years unexpectedly in March 2014. As we work through our losses together, this blog aims to provide support and encouragement through testimonials and the Word of God. Feel free to share, comment or simply absorb. Thanks for stopping...
I am to the point where I can sense when a wave of grief has me targeted for a hit.
It can begin early in the morning as a slow, aching groundswell in my abdomen. I know what kind of day it will be, and, per my therapist's instructions, I don't try to fight it.
As uncomfortable as it can be, I let the waves build until they erupt with force, crashing against my heart. They only subside once the tears are streaming down my face. It is only then that the awful ache dissipates, as if the wave accomplished what it set out to do: break me down.
The groundswells are uncomfortable, but fairly predictable. I know they will subside once I've had a good cry.
It's the blindsides that can deal a devastating blow and toss you off course. Anything can trigger the emotional tidal wave that assaults without warning: a photograph, a scent, a song on the radio.
I didn't immediately feel grief. Didn't allow it. Upon the passing of my late husband last spring, I was determined to plow through grief, head down and press through anything in my path. I didn't want to grieve -- after all, who wants to sit around crying? I was afraid if I really let myself grieve, I'd be in a perpetual meltdown in a corner somewhere, useless to anyone. I told myself I didn't have time to grieve: My teenage sons were counting on Mama to be strong, to go to work, to attend their games...
But my wonderful grief counselor warned me about stifling the process. It's like a fish bobber--you can try as you might to keep it under, but it WILL pop back up, and it may happen at inopportune times. Only after I began having crying spells at work did I submit to the grief process. And oh boy, the flood gates opened!
It may seem that the raw, aching, grief is too much to bear. But rest assured of two things: the Lord will not allow the grief and sadness to overtake you, and you are not alone. "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee...5) Fear not, for I am with thee." Isaiah 43:2,5
This is a transition, and while not exactly desired, it is reality. I am thankful for it, and pray for strength to endure as He strengthens my heart and those around me.
Prayer: Lord, thank You for the grief process. There is no way around it, but You promised to be with us through the groundswells, the blindsides, and our life journey. Even though it hurts and we may not see the good right now, use us and our experiences to help and encourage someone else, particularly those who do not know You. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
I am to the point where I can sense when a wave of grief has me targeted for a hit.
It can begin early in the morning as a slow, aching groundswell in my abdomen. I know what kind of day it will be, and, per my therapist's instructions, I don't try to fight it.
As uncomfortable as it can be, I let the waves build until they erupt with force, crashing against my heart. They only subside once the tears are streaming down my face. It is only then that the awful ache dissipates, as if the wave accomplished what it set out to do: break me down.
The groundswells are uncomfortable, but fairly predictable. I know they will subside once I've had a good cry.
It's the blindsides that can deal a devastating blow and toss you off course. Anything can trigger the emotional tidal wave that assaults without warning: a photograph, a scent, a song on the radio.
I didn't immediately feel grief. Didn't allow it. Upon the passing of my late husband last spring, I was determined to plow through grief, head down and press through anything in my path. I didn't want to grieve -- after all, who wants to sit around crying? I was afraid if I really let myself grieve, I'd be in a perpetual meltdown in a corner somewhere, useless to anyone. I told myself I didn't have time to grieve: My teenage sons were counting on Mama to be strong, to go to work, to attend their games...
But my wonderful grief counselor warned me about stifling the process. It's like a fish bobber--you can try as you might to keep it under, but it WILL pop back up, and it may happen at inopportune times. Only after I began having crying spells at work did I submit to the grief process. And oh boy, the flood gates opened!
It may seem that the raw, aching, grief is too much to bear. But rest assured of two things: the Lord will not allow the grief and sadness to overtake you, and you are not alone. "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee...5) Fear not, for I am with thee." Isaiah 43:2,5
This is a transition, and while not exactly desired, it is reality. I am thankful for it, and pray for strength to endure as He strengthens my heart and those around me.
Prayer: Lord, thank You for the grief process. There is no way around it, but You promised to be with us through the groundswells, the blindsides, and our life journey. Even though it hurts and we may not see the good right now, use us and our experiences to help and encourage someone else, particularly those who do not know You. In the name of Jesus, Amen.
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