Tag: encouragement

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Catching up and Questions

It’s been terribly long since I wrote on the blog.  So please accept my apology.  

To be honest, I’ve been mulling over whether I need to keep writing here, if it’s helpful for anyone, or if I should just give it up.  I’m not the most tech savvy person and my site isn’t very modern or as current as others.  Also – for quite awhile, writing seemed to be what I was supposed to do.  I’m reevaluating that lately.  I do enjoy the writing, but trying to assess if it should be a priority.  

So maybe you can help me with this.  Do you like the content here?  Would you like to see more about my grief journey or grief in general?  If there are topics or ideas you would like to see me write about, comment and let me know.  

We all know grief is such an odd journey.  I just passed the 8 year mark.  I can’t wrap my head around that length of time.  In some ways it doesn’t seem that long ago, but when I look at all that has happened since my husband passed, it makes sense that it’s that long.  Sounds a bit circular in thinking, but then, grief is sorta like that, isn’t it? 

To catch you up on what I’ve been doing.  In 2021 I took an ACBC Biblical Counseling Course at my church.  Deep stuff, but so good.  Since January 2022, I’ve been putting together a Grief Support Binder – my personal resource when meeting with a widow.  It’s all sorts of information on a variety of topics with applicable scriptures etc.  No one but me will really be seeing this, but I need something where all the stuff I’ve learned, both in class and in life, is located.  My husband would call it my Dash One – which is what they called the enormous binder for each aircraft in the Air Force.  It’s a small b bible for that plane.  My GSB is my Dash One.  

Oddly enough, but perfectly logical in God’s economy, God continues to bring widows to me in various ways, giving me the opportunity to listen, understand and with whom to share my journey.  It’s such a privilege.  And so  – this is where I believe God is calling me – – – – to walk along side other widows.  This is an awesome responsibility and calling.  The more I learn, the more I feel inadequate to the task.  But God has other ideas.  He used so many unqualified people in the Bible to accomplish His will.  Maybe I’m just another one of those unqualified, but willing & obedient folk.  

Thank you for being part of this inconsistent blog of my journey.  Doing this was not what I had originally meant to do – the blog portion just came with the set up of the website, so I went with it. 

I’m honored that you would take time to read my ramblings.  I’m honored to share my imperfect journey.  Let me know what you think.

Peace & Blessings…………………………………………..

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I’m Tired Of Being Brave

Bravery Fatigue – that’s what I have going on these days.  You too??

I’m not sure, but I think this bravery fatigue might be somewhat cumulative.  Then again, I believe it’s intensified because of the pandemic.  Goodness – this pandemic has fatigued everyone for one reason or another.  We are all tired. . . so tired. 

My story – 6 1/2 years long at this point. . .emphasis on the word long.  And even as I write that, I know there are others widowed that have walked this grief journey a lot longer.  I salute all of you !!

We, the widowed, have to make life decisions – decisions so very gigantic – we make them alone for the first time in our adult life.  I am ever grateful that God helped me remember the logistics of past life decisions my husband & I made over our 37 1/2 years together.  I’m also very thankful for the people with specific expertise along the way.  I believe God had us cross paths in order to add to my wisdom quotient.  Believe me, I needed it. 

This year is perhaps the straw that is breaking this camel’s back. 

In March, I moved from St. Louis, MO to Louisville, KY.  Mind you, that is after all the huge decisions & hurdles in 2019/early 2020 – deciding where to move, much downsizing, signing to begin building a home, deciding on a realtor, researching the market, vetting a mover, all the move prep – packing boxes, disassembling furniture, deciding what can go in my car/my friend’s car – oh and then the week of the physical move – physically exhausting. 

I get to Louisville and everything shuts down – everything. I can’t even see family for awhile.  

I’ve left my solid support system and am now living in the desert. 

Initially it didn’t bother me too much, but as things have dragged on with no end in sight. . . well, that wears on a person. 

Additional stress came after the physical move. . .selling my St. Louis home, closing out MO tax stuff for my business, starting up tax stuff in KY, and drivers license & plates (took    7 months). . .and much more.

And now, plowing into starting over, entering as a nobody – no one knows my history or anything I’ve done – not that I’m looking for any kind of fame – just credibility.

The worst part?  Not knowing what to do next.  God has been quite silent about this.  My head understands I can trust Him & that He has a plan.  My heart hasn’t caught up.  I like to say – I know God has a plan, I just don’t like this part. Truth. 

Please understand I don’t want to know the whole picture.  I’m just looking for direction for where to focus.  Maybe you are looking for that too.  Often on this journey, we find ourselves in the oddest of places, don’t we?

Focusing on the road before us as widows & widowers…and then  bravery fatigue.  We have been brave for so long.  We have stepped up, moved forward, made decisions. . .and we are tired. 

So I’m talking to me as much as I am to you. We get each other.  We understand where others outside of our walk do not. 

Find strength in calling it what it is.  This really does help.  And then lay down your sword for a few – a few minutes, hours, days.  Then pick it back up and take a step forward.  Even when we don’t know what’s next we can do what we know – right here, right now. 

Me?  I’m going to focus on my writing.  While I do that, I’ll keep listening for God’s voice – His prompting.  I’m going to trust – believe – hope. 

That’s what I offer to you friend. 

Lay down your sword – rest – pick it back up – take a step – do what you know – listen for God’s prompting. 

My dear fellow grief travelers. . .I’m sending you peace & blessings.

 

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Do The Next Right Thing

Currently I’m attending a local Griefshare group at my church.  It’s a wonderful small group that is a safe place.  How important it is to have a safe place to question, vent, share, and listen.  

The Griefshare ministry is video driven with a workbook that is done during the week.  It is thoughtfully laid out and even has scripture written out right there on the page, which helps so much.  Another thing I appreciate is the larger font they have used.  It’s not so much an age thing as it is a bereavement thing.  I don’t know about you, but I like a little larger font when I’m a bit bleary eyed.

In a recent video, one of the folks sharing about their grief journey spoke about how when we are overwhelmed with all that needs to be done, that it’s helpful to just do the next right thing.  I love that!!  And this is why I’m writing today’s post.  I want to share that great thought with you.  

Coincidentally, there is a podcast I listen to called, The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman. I mention that in case you may have heard of it.  Great podcast, by the way, and I’ve found it helpful on my grief journey.  Just know that it’s for everyone and not focused on bereavement.  Emily is so good at helping us simplify our every day, our thoughts etc.  And as you have probably realized, that helps when grieving.  

But on to the reason for this post. 

When grieving, we get overwhelmed, upset, stuck, and so many other things.  It is this particular subject that the Griefshare video was addressing.  Sometimes we come to a place where we don’t know what to do, what step to take.  That’s when I think it’s important to do the thing right in front of you – do the next right thing. When we do just that one thing, it can help us feel ready to do the next thing, and the next, and the next. 

Sounds so simple, but as you know, when we are grieving – it’s NOT!  Taking that next step requires an act of the will.  You won’t want to do it, but once you take that one step forward, you will see significant benefits – sometimes right away, and sometimes once you have completed that next thing.   

It’s a feeling of accomplishment.  It’s one less thing on the long list of things to do.  And once it’s done, go ahead and take pride in it.  If you are a list maker like me, getting that one thing done will help you feel just a bit better.  Note – I’m sorry for using the word better, but it’s the word in the English language that describes it best.  We both know that better takes awhile, so please understand that I’m not rushing you.  

So dear friend on this grief journey with me – take heart, take a deep breath – and do the next right thing.

I know I’m stepping out on a limb here, but I sincerely believe you will be glad you did.

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Permission to rest. . . . . .

If you read the previous posts, you know that I moved from MO to KY – 4 months ago.  It was certainly challenging, but I did it.  

Truth is, it’s been challenging and stressful for a year & a half.  It was even more crazy stressful the last 4 months.

As an Air Force wife for 23 years, I learned to cope with change and whatever difficulties came along.  I focused on what to do, and did it.  Maybe that’s how you tend to deal with challenges too.   

Well, I’ve realized that if the stress is prolonged, it can pile up……………snowball to levels hard to circumvent.  And that’s where I found myself about a week ago. 

I would like to say when I heard the doctor tell me I needed to apply some de-stressing tools and take a step back to rest, that it was the first time I had heard that.  But it’s not.

Honestly, dear friends had either said I needed to rest just as plain as that, or they had sweetly said they couldn’t imagine all I had been through so relaxing was indeed earned.  And I heard them, I really did.  But I didn’t take it to heart.  I just plugged on, resting here and there, but not really stopping the  motion and engaging in an extended rest. Well…………..I am now. 

I’ve started doing my yoga, which is amazingly helpful.  Just 24 minutes and I am seriously a different woman.  I’ve also stopped setting my alarm to get up in the morning, except for a day or two when I can’t.  I’ve intentionally spent more time praying and in my quiet time in the morning.  Days still have a list of a few things to do, but there’s no rush and I remind myself of that – – -often.  There is book reading………….I’m working on 3 books currently.  I’m going  through a Griefshare workbook with DVDs and getting a view of that program. I’ve also been better at walking & exercising which is great for lowering cortisol levels & pumping up endorphins.  Plus – and this one is so awesome –  I have been sitting on the back porch in the evening sipping an ice cold drink listening to the night things in the woods, looking at the sky……………sometimes thinking……………sometimes not.  Talk about unwinding!!  Sometimes I hate going inside to go to bed. 

This won’t be my life permanently, but my body was giving me clues that it had just about had enough.  My mind. . . my heart. . . I needed peace.  And maybe that’s where you find yourself too.  If you have been eyeball deep in grief for an extended period of time, dealing with so many decisions alone, or going through a major change like me, try to figure out a way you can at least jump off the merry-go-round for portions of time.  

I realize that not everyone can do this to the extent I’m able.  Sometimes life just has to move on and you may have family members with you that prevent you from truly coming away, but somehow you need to steal away to completely relax and replenish.  We were never meant to carry the loads given to us after our loved one’s death with no respite.  We have the heavy responsibilities once carried by two, now carried by one.  Most of the time we just roll, but don’t let yourself roll into a valley.  Leave the heavy stuff in the valley and walk up the mountain where the air is clear and you can breathe. Come up out of the fog and contaminated air where you can get the oxygen you need to think clearly. . . . where you can stop doing and just be.  We forget that who we are is  more important than what we do.  On the mountain you will remember. 

That doctor has no idea how pivotal his comments were to me.  It was the “ah-ha” moment that I needed.  He gave me permission to rest……………..he gave  me permission to be happy again – a different sort of happy than before my husband’s death, but happy.  I’ve never lost my deep down joy, but I most definitely lost my happy – and I know you have too.  

So I’m here as an outside voice, like my doctor was, telling you that I officially give you permission to rest – to really rest.  I’m not a doctor, but I have stayed at a Holiday Inn Express – – – – hahahahaha.  Anyway – as a pretend-doctor I prescribe a walk up the mountain for you.  Get the heck outta the valley and breathe some cool clean air.  Leave the to-do list behind, take a drink of your choice with you and just be………………….simply be.  Enjoy the silence, voice positive self-talk, read, nap, breathe……………..oh yes, breathe.  

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Unexpected stuff. . .think Bermuda Triangle.

What an ominous title, right?  

So continuing on the “moving” theme, let me share some unexpected stuff that has happened and is still happening.  Don’t let this discourage you !!!!  Not at all !!!   

I’m baring my heart to you, knowing that even in other circumstances & scenarios, someone widowed out there will understand.  This is also to give you a heads up.  I want to let you in on this so when it happens to you, you will think – hmm, Debbie went through something similar – and it’s going to be OK.

Let me state this again – – – – don’t be discouraged !!!  You will get through it and be ok.  I believe that we will all get through whatever this grief journey throws at us and we will actually be stronger. 

But in the meantime, here’s what I’ve been experiencing.  

As I wrote before, I moved from St. Louis to Louisville mid-March,  right at the very beginning of Covid.  And again – I don’t recommend moving during a pandemic.  But that’s where I’m coming from here. . .

The Bermuda Triangle idea didn’t happen right away.  First of all I spent 10 days unpacking, breaking down boxes and putting things away.  I was putting in 10 hour days and sleeping pretty long at night, which is a huge blessing for me.  Yes – at the beginning, I had lots to do, and emotionally I was happy to be in my new home.

However – – – as time went on, there were so many things that weighed heavily on me.  I was working with my realtor on selling my St. Louis house – during Covid – oh boy, not a fan.  I was spending hours & hours online researching house things to buy – rugs, shower curtains, bar stools, back porch furniture, front porch bench etc. etc.   I was dealing with the sadness of missing my previous home, neighborhood, church, friends. . . .   Also – I was experiencing deep grief over leaving my previous life behind – the one with my husband.  And – leaving him buried in the national cemetery in St. Louis.  Plus, how ironic!  I moved to be near family, but we couldn’t be together – because of Covid.  No hugs, no spending time together, and seeing my grandchildren only in my driveway with them buckled in their seats.  Heartbreaking. 

You see – it’s all the tangible and intangible things.  And they occasionally intersect in one common place……my Bermuda Triangle. 

There have been mornings that I sat in my glider rocker sobbing and pouring out my heart to God.  Any of the things going on in my Bermuda Triangle individually were not overwhelming.   Pile them all together – overwhelming.  

How grateful I am that this hasn’t happened a whole lot nor frequently.  But friend, can I just be honest here?  When it happens. . .oh my goodness, how awful.  Truly awful.  And crushing. . . 

One of the things each of us has experienced is crushing from grief.  Even though I’m 6+ years out from my husband’s death, I still have my moments.  Gosh I hope that’s not discouraging for you.  We all hope & pray that grief diminishes over time and isn’t so crushing.  I can say that it is indeed better, even though better isn’t the best word.  

Maybe in a strange sort of way, this post will be encouraging to you in this way.  You will know that someone else experiences this crushing from time to time.  It means you are normal !  Totally normal.  And from my perspective, that is so helpful.  I’m going. . .you are going. . . where we have never been before.  It’s meaningful to talk to someone who is further down the road.  Hopefully I can be that someone for you.  

As I write this, my St. Louis home is close to closing – Hallelujah !!!  But I’m still dealing with emails or phone calls where the realtor or person at the title company needs some sort of documentation etc. etc. etc. – so much etc. etc. etc.  And I’m still experiencing the grief of leaving a place that was home for 11 1/2 years, dear friends and the familiarity of so much.  It really does cause pain in my spirit to close this door, not only the physical move, but the door on my first life.  

I must also add that there is future uncertainty that feels daunting & just way too vague.  How do I figure out what I’m supposed to do in this next chapter?  I’m very much asking the question – what am I going be when I grow up?  Do I want to get a part time job?  And where in the world would I want to work?  I’m in a new city where I’m not connected yet. Or do I focus on writing, working at my online writing course and my blogs?  

As I look at all I just wrote, maybe the hardest part to it all is that nothing in my life, or anyone’s life, is normal right now.  Covid has really messed with normal ! I’m so thankful things are opening up and we are ramping back up, but the truth is, we are still in the thick of this pandemic where life is most definitely not normal.  

Gosh, I really need to land this plane.  And I’m sure you are hoping that I have some magical solution.  Alas, I do not.  

What I do have is a simple suggestion I read in a book somewhere that said it was greatly beneficial to write down positive things even in the midst of negative circumstances like my Bermuda Triangle.  

I have not written them down at this point, but I have taken the time to list them mentally.  It actually helps !  I remember an old hymn that says – Count Your Many Blessings, Name Them One by One.  That’s the whole idea – instead of focusing on the stress, the negative, the uncertainty – focus on the positive, the blessings, the good – the really good things that we all can list.  

Our loss doesn’t define us, yet it is part of who we are now.  But so many good things are happening even in Covid.  Let’s grab ahold of those wonderfully good things.  Let me help you just a bit by giving you a peek at a tiny part of my list. 

I’m thankful for:  family – near & far that I connect with in person but especially through use of technology,  Face Time  & Zoom calls,  a lovely new home,  selling my St. Louis house in less than a month,  dear friends that connect with me in several ways though not geographically close,  and time…………the spaciousness of time, which I have never had before – to figure things out, to sit quietly and ponder, to read books that I’ve had stacked for a long time, to try new recipes and get used to working in my new kitchen etc. etc. etc.  

Let’s try to do this – list the good and let that encourage your heart.  Then turn and battle the stressful and not so good.  

We can do this dear ones.  We really can.  We really will. . . . . . Hugs to every one of you.  Big virtual hug !!!!  

 

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Big Decisions

It’s been far too long since I wrote about my grief journey in this blog.  And for that, I truly apologize.  

Life has been crazy busy and BIG life decisions have consumed my days, my thoughts,  my moments…………….every waking moment as well as some when I’m not so awake.

I’ve written about life decisions before and changes as far as moving.  Well. . . I’m moving.  So much has happened in the past 10 months.  No need to give every detail, but here’s a quick synopsis.

In November 2018, my dear grown children & their wonderful spouses told me they would like me to live near one of their families.  They said, we love you Mom and want to take care of you.  How sweet & endearing is that?  It was also a shock.  I had not actually considered that before.  

I let it ride for a couple months and prayed about it.  If I was going to go through this huge undertaking – downsizing after 40 – my heart needed to be on board.  Finally by March 2019, my heart had changed & I was ready to get rid of stuff and start looking for a home. 

From April to June I looked at existing homes and vetted 3 builders.  Nothing seemed to work except one model at a builder.   I still needed to know this was it.  At one point I realized that this one floor plan and neighborhood felt like home and was the right one.

So I’m in the midst of meeting with the builder, making choices etc.   They will break ground next month, October, and be done late February.  

Much has been sold or gotten rid of so far, but there is much to either sell or get rid of…………still.  40 years is quite a span to accumulate.  But even in this, my heart is ready to downsize.  

And grief wise????  I’ve only had a couple things that have tugged at my heart.  There is something about the timing of this………………….the change of my heart…………….and how things are falling together.   Somehow it’s just right. 

Lest you think I’m stoic and unfeeling, I assure you I’m crying through the whole deal.  It’s impossible to adequately describe, but joy and sorrow can co-exist.   It just does.  

From my widow’s perspective………………..I see this as God closing the door on my first life and giving me a fresh start.  I don’t know what the next season of my life will look like, but I’m ready to find out.  

There are those reading this who can’t imagine what I’m doing – and that’s perfectly fine.  It’s not your time, and it may never be your time.  That’s the thing about each one of us…………..we are completely unique like snowflakes.  Our grief journeys are totally unique.  And yet in our singular experiences, we bond because of extraordinary loss.  

So as I raise my glass in honor of your journey, please raise your glass in honor of mine……………….and please pray I will have the wisdom and strength to handle everything, make all the decisions, and physically get through this tough life change.  I had a sweet woman who is just a bit on the other side of doing this exact thing after 40 years of marriage tell me – once you get on the other side, you will be SO glad you did.  Ah………………….a cheerleader – just what I needed.  

May God send you a cheerleader or two as you make big decisions on your grief journey.  I sincerely hope you have a church family and friends to surround you with love and encouragement.