This last week I decided to give Princess a bath. She was looking rather shabby and it was becoming an embarrassment to take her out and about in public. So I spent a good chunk of my day off scrubbing and polishing. Princess looks amazing!
Princess is my cherry-red, Sebring convertible. I vacuumed and polished the interior and scrubbed the wheels so they would shine. I know this all sounds ridiculous. At least I always thought men who loved their car were...ridiculous.
My husband loved his car. It was a gold Park Avenue. I called it the "geezer car" because it was the kind of car that old men would drive. It didn't matter how much I mocked it or how much I hated driving it (it was way too big for me and I felt lost and small behind the wheel), David loved his car and was quite proud of it.
So I was surprised when one day he announced we were going to the dealership to trade in his "baby". David was 5 months into his 9 month sentence with cancer and so I assumed it was the drugs talking and told him we didn't need to do that. He wasn't able to drive anymore and I didn't want to waste what time we had together dealing with car salesmen. David insisted and so I climbed behind the wheel of his car and we headed out to a dealership a good 20 miles from our house. (It's nearly impossible to tell a dying man no). David insisted on that dealership but would not tell me why. I thought perhaps the medicine was impacting his thinking. When we arrived the salesmen already had the car we would be buying waiting for us and that's when I met Princess. David traded in his "baby" to buy me that red convertible I had mentioned to him I wanted to drive someday. I always thought my "someday" was just wishful thinking and assumed I would spend my life driving the minivan I called the "mom mobile". Every time we passed one of those cars on the road I would say to David, "that's going to be my car someday." Who knew David was actually paying attention?!
So... I love my car! Not only is a sporty convertible with lots of style and fun, it wraps me in love every time I get in it. Princess (yes, I've named the car. I know that means I've joined the ranks of the car-fanatics. I don't care.) Princess reminds me of David's love for me and not just everyday, ordinary love. It points me to a self-sacrificing love that is rare and precious.
I love telling this story and I tell it often; every time someone asks me why a middle-aged, conservative pastor is driving a red sports car. I tell them of David's love and how wonderful it is to feel the wind in my hair.
Here's the point: (Yes, there really is a point to this drive down memory lane) David and I were married for almost 27 years. There were many occasions where David's actions or words were less than self-sacrificing. There are many memories where... let's just say I don't feel the love. Anytime two people live together that closely that long there's going to be some ugly moments. If I tried I could remember some really hurtful words spoken and some truly disappointing actions. I choose to remember Princess. I have made a deliberate choice to forget the ugly and embrace the loving. I believe it has been key in assisting me to heal and prevented me from becoming one of those angry, bitter, resentful women who feel abandoned and forgotten by the ones they love.
That's not to say I don't have my moments. Yesterday was the Fourth of July and I have always spent that day with my family around me, grilling and laughing and eating together. Yesterday I did not. There were good reasons the kids weren't with me and so I chose to get in the car and put down the top and "feel the love" rather than pout and cry about what I've lost. It's a choice and some days it takes more effort than others but it's the best choice I can make. I'm making lemonade out my lemons. I'm putting the best spin on a bad situation.
You can say I'm not dealing with reality or that I'm wearing rose-colored glasses. I don't care. The glasses match my car!
Embrace the loving memories as often as you can. Give me a call... I'll take you for a spin. Princess loves company!
Karen
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Monday, July 5, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Rearview Mirror
A Great Monday morning to all who grieve.
(Is that too perky?)
I was thinking this past week about just how useful the rearview mirror is. Really...I think about such things. I know that makes me quirky or outright strange but I'm OK with that. It's truly a liberating moment when you reach the point (or age) where you just don't care all that much what people think of you. So I'm thinking about the road behind me and justthis past week I found the rearview mirror quite helpful.
I used it on Monday to hold the handicap sticker that my father-in-law has so I could park in the front spot while taking him to his doctor appointment. The rearview mirror is a handy holder of all sorts of dangling things.
On Tuesday I used the mirror while in the midst of traffic. I glanced up just in time to see a guy in a very large pickup truck move in behind me close enough to smell my perfume. I thought a moment about hitting the brake but I really like my car so I moved over and let the guy have the lane. He was speeding and agressive but... I really like my car so I let the bully pass.
On Thursday I found it particularly helpful in helping to apply lipstick. It also is quite handy for reapplying makeup and straightening hair. This last one is quite helpful since I drive a convertible and the hair is truly a mess. This is also something I'm OK with. Messed up hair or life without the convertible- the choice is clear. I really like my car!
Well I have found the rearview mirror a useful tool but only when used in brief spurts. Driving while gazing steadily into the rearview mirror would not be good. In fact, it is impossible to make any forward progress while staring into the rearview mirror. Only brief glances are best.
I took a brief glance back this past week and found it quite helpful in guiding me through a week filled with difficult grief-points. This past week was the fourth anniversary of my husband's death. If you had told me that four years later I would still be grappling with grief I would have told you that is not ever going to happen to me. (shows you what I knew about grief)
I had to take the cat (David's cat) to the vet and put poor Fred out of his misery. In the midst of this I found myself looking back at the joy the cat brought to David in his last days battling cancer. Fred had earned his keep! I glanced back at the many ways God had carried me through the past four years when I thought grief would surely kill me. There were even those days when I hoped for someone to put me out of my misery only to find God sending a friend or a funny moment to ease the pain and give me a clear perspective. Sometimes grief is like that bully in the truck bearing down on you with such agressive speed that the best you can do is pull over and try to get out of the way. A quick look back at all those times God saved me was helped me get a clear perspective for this past week. Glancing back can give us the courage to move forward.
WARNING! A brief glance is the only way to look back. If you linger in the past you will risk letting the past overrun your life and greatly impair your future. I also recommend selective glances down memory lane. I chose to look at only the good and joy-filled memories and kept a steely-eyed, determined gaze at the road ahead whenever a painful memory tried to climb into my backseat. The Bible tells us to "take every though captive" and to "think on those things that are good, and pure, and lovely". That's selective use of the rearview mirror. I strongly recommend it for all who grieve.
Well, it's a sunny day and that top is comming down on the red convertible! It's going to be a "top-down day"! I'm so glad I didn't spend any time on my hair this morning. I can blame the mess on the wind and the car. And I'll be using that rear view mirror to apply the lipstick (it matches the car!) So get out there and find something to make you smile- a garden or a movie or a lovely lunch along the lake - go for it! Move forward and use that rearview mirror sparingly.
Zooom!Zooom!
Karen
(Is that too perky?)
I was thinking this past week about just how useful the rearview mirror is. Really...I think about such things. I know that makes me quirky or outright strange but I'm OK with that. It's truly a liberating moment when you reach the point (or age) where you just don't care all that much what people think of you. So I'm thinking about the road behind me and justthis past week I found the rearview mirror quite helpful.
I used it on Monday to hold the handicap sticker that my father-in-law has so I could park in the front spot while taking him to his doctor appointment. The rearview mirror is a handy holder of all sorts of dangling things.
On Tuesday I used the mirror while in the midst of traffic. I glanced up just in time to see a guy in a very large pickup truck move in behind me close enough to smell my perfume. I thought a moment about hitting the brake but I really like my car so I moved over and let the guy have the lane. He was speeding and agressive but... I really like my car so I let the bully pass.
On Thursday I found it particularly helpful in helping to apply lipstick. It also is quite handy for reapplying makeup and straightening hair. This last one is quite helpful since I drive a convertible and the hair is truly a mess. This is also something I'm OK with. Messed up hair or life without the convertible- the choice is clear. I really like my car!
Well I have found the rearview mirror a useful tool but only when used in brief spurts. Driving while gazing steadily into the rearview mirror would not be good. In fact, it is impossible to make any forward progress while staring into the rearview mirror. Only brief glances are best.
I took a brief glance back this past week and found it quite helpful in guiding me through a week filled with difficult grief-points. This past week was the fourth anniversary of my husband's death. If you had told me that four years later I would still be grappling with grief I would have told you that is not ever going to happen to me. (shows you what I knew about grief)
I had to take the cat (David's cat) to the vet and put poor Fred out of his misery. In the midst of this I found myself looking back at the joy the cat brought to David in his last days battling cancer. Fred had earned his keep! I glanced back at the many ways God had carried me through the past four years when I thought grief would surely kill me. There were even those days when I hoped for someone to put me out of my misery only to find God sending a friend or a funny moment to ease the pain and give me a clear perspective. Sometimes grief is like that bully in the truck bearing down on you with such agressive speed that the best you can do is pull over and try to get out of the way. A quick look back at all those times God saved me was helped me get a clear perspective for this past week. Glancing back can give us the courage to move forward.
WARNING! A brief glance is the only way to look back. If you linger in the past you will risk letting the past overrun your life and greatly impair your future. I also recommend selective glances down memory lane. I chose to look at only the good and joy-filled memories and kept a steely-eyed, determined gaze at the road ahead whenever a painful memory tried to climb into my backseat. The Bible tells us to "take every though captive" and to "think on those things that are good, and pure, and lovely". That's selective use of the rearview mirror. I strongly recommend it for all who grieve.
Well, it's a sunny day and that top is comming down on the red convertible! It's going to be a "top-down day"! I'm so glad I didn't spend any time on my hair this morning. I can blame the mess on the wind and the car. And I'll be using that rear view mirror to apply the lipstick (it matches the car!) So get out there and find something to make you smile- a garden or a movie or a lovely lunch along the lake - go for it! Move forward and use that rearview mirror sparingly.
Zooom!Zooom!
Karen
Monday, June 21, 2010
David Jobs
Today is a "David's Job" day. A David job is any task that was routinely done by the husband and dad of the house. Within the first week following his death I called a meeting of all living at home (me and the two boys)and we came to an agreement of who would be handling the "David jobs". It was agreed upon, with some reluctance from all involved that Jon would unclog the toilets, Stephen would kill the spiders and I would handle the trash. It seemed to work for about 30 days and then the boys returned to college and I was left to handle the "issues".
I really didn't know how many "David jobs" there were until they started popping up on a regular basis. Apparently David was the one who locked the doors and turned out the lights every night. He changed light bulbs. He changed all the clocks in the house when daylight saving time hit. I actually lived for the first two years without changing the clocks or locking the doors. It's not that the tasks were too difficult. I just didn't want to do it. It was a "David job". My sister moved in with me during year two and forced the issue. She doesn't live in houses that aren't locked at night. Go figure!
Well I share all that to point out that today is a "David job" day. This week will be the fourth anniversary of his death and I really thought that all these issues would be resolved by now. I now change the light bulbs and the clocks. I kill the spiders (well, OK I mostly shoo them away or pretend they're not there) and I empty the trash and handle simple plumbing issues all by myself. At some point I just assumed that the tasks that were once David's would become just routine and not be the reminder of loss and generator of grief that they have for the past three years.
Apparently I was wrong. Who knew?
Today I will be taking David's dad to the doctor. It's a monthly trip we make together to a large hospital in the area. Routine and not difficult for either one of us. David Job. After I return I will be spending some time in the front yard cleaning up limbs and debris from a weekend storm that blew through. I have some help coming but still...David job. Somewhere between doctors and lawns I will need to go on line and buy Tiger baseball tickets. David's dad loves the Tigers and he has his heart set on going to the series with Minnesota. For the past three years my boys have taken grandpa. A good time was had by all. The last family activity we all did together before David's death was go to a Tiger game. Well, both boys are not available this summer so I will be going with grandpa to the game. It will be a good time together but not as fun for either one of us without the boys. David job.
Then at some point today I will need to scoop up David's beloved cat, Fred and take him to the vet. Fred is 17 years old and failing fast. Today is the day. David loved that cat. Fred loved David and kept guard over him as the cancer robbed David of his strength and then his life. Fred is now in distress and the vet says it's time to let him go.
I am aware that some folks wonder why I still grieve four years after David's death. It's days like today that make it impossible NOT to grieve. I would have to be an unfeeling robot not to cry a few tears today. I've packed my purse with Kleenex and I'm giving myself permission to grieve today. The clueless bystanders who don't understand the need for grief will just have to remain clueless. I can't please everyone today and I've decided to give my attention to "David jobs". His dad and his cat loved David very much and have earned the right to be tended to.
Wow! What a heavy posting today! Sorry. Some days are just like that. What is surprising to me is that I really assumed these days would go away with time. I really didn't expect to still be grieving over the "David jobs" four years after his death. Now I realize that grief is not something you "get over". Grief is a life sentence you learn to manage. It gets less painful and less emotionally draining but it never really goes away.
OK. I could be wrong. Perhaps year 4 will be grief-free. Maybe year 5 will be a whole new day free of tears and "David jobs". I'm not counting on it. Does that sound less than encouraging? Sorry. I try to make our weekly meeting a positive and helpful time together. I also try to keep it real and honest. Let's just say today is really real.
In the midst of a day filled with "David jobs" and reminders of his absence in my life I am still thankful for all the days I had with David. I am thankful for the privilege of keeping my promise to him and taking care of his dad .... and his cat. Today I get to be David's wife and handle his "stuff". Even grief days can be good days too. - Well... sorta. I still have to say goodbye to Fred. Perhaps the only good thing about the day will be that it will be over before I know it. Some days you just do your best to get through it.
Next week I promise to tell funny stories and laugh with you. If you think of it, say a prayer for me today and for all who grieve. Some days are just.... awful.
Gotta get going. The only way through the day is through it. See you next Monday.
Karen PS - I am now posted at Wordpress- KarenPayneTableForOne.wordpress.com
I really didn't know how many "David jobs" there were until they started popping up on a regular basis. Apparently David was the one who locked the doors and turned out the lights every night. He changed light bulbs. He changed all the clocks in the house when daylight saving time hit. I actually lived for the first two years without changing the clocks or locking the doors. It's not that the tasks were too difficult. I just didn't want to do it. It was a "David job". My sister moved in with me during year two and forced the issue. She doesn't live in houses that aren't locked at night. Go figure!
Well I share all that to point out that today is a "David job" day. This week will be the fourth anniversary of his death and I really thought that all these issues would be resolved by now. I now change the light bulbs and the clocks. I kill the spiders (well, OK I mostly shoo them away or pretend they're not there) and I empty the trash and handle simple plumbing issues all by myself. At some point I just assumed that the tasks that were once David's would become just routine and not be the reminder of loss and generator of grief that they have for the past three years.
Apparently I was wrong. Who knew?
Today I will be taking David's dad to the doctor. It's a monthly trip we make together to a large hospital in the area. Routine and not difficult for either one of us. David Job. After I return I will be spending some time in the front yard cleaning up limbs and debris from a weekend storm that blew through. I have some help coming but still...David job. Somewhere between doctors and lawns I will need to go on line and buy Tiger baseball tickets. David's dad loves the Tigers and he has his heart set on going to the series with Minnesota. For the past three years my boys have taken grandpa. A good time was had by all. The last family activity we all did together before David's death was go to a Tiger game. Well, both boys are not available this summer so I will be going with grandpa to the game. It will be a good time together but not as fun for either one of us without the boys. David job.
Then at some point today I will need to scoop up David's beloved cat, Fred and take him to the vet. Fred is 17 years old and failing fast. Today is the day. David loved that cat. Fred loved David and kept guard over him as the cancer robbed David of his strength and then his life. Fred is now in distress and the vet says it's time to let him go.
I am aware that some folks wonder why I still grieve four years after David's death. It's days like today that make it impossible NOT to grieve. I would have to be an unfeeling robot not to cry a few tears today. I've packed my purse with Kleenex and I'm giving myself permission to grieve today. The clueless bystanders who don't understand the need for grief will just have to remain clueless. I can't please everyone today and I've decided to give my attention to "David jobs". His dad and his cat loved David very much and have earned the right to be tended to.
Wow! What a heavy posting today! Sorry. Some days are just like that. What is surprising to me is that I really assumed these days would go away with time. I really didn't expect to still be grieving over the "David jobs" four years after his death. Now I realize that grief is not something you "get over". Grief is a life sentence you learn to manage. It gets less painful and less emotionally draining but it never really goes away.
OK. I could be wrong. Perhaps year 4 will be grief-free. Maybe year 5 will be a whole new day free of tears and "David jobs". I'm not counting on it. Does that sound less than encouraging? Sorry. I try to make our weekly meeting a positive and helpful time together. I also try to keep it real and honest. Let's just say today is really real.
In the midst of a day filled with "David jobs" and reminders of his absence in my life I am still thankful for all the days I had with David. I am thankful for the privilege of keeping my promise to him and taking care of his dad .... and his cat. Today I get to be David's wife and handle his "stuff". Even grief days can be good days too. - Well... sorta. I still have to say goodbye to Fred. Perhaps the only good thing about the day will be that it will be over before I know it. Some days you just do your best to get through it.
Next week I promise to tell funny stories and laugh with you. If you think of it, say a prayer for me today and for all who grieve. Some days are just.... awful.
Gotta get going. The only way through the day is through it. See you next Monday.
Karen PS - I am now posted at Wordpress- KarenPayneTableForOne.wordpress.com
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Perfect Gift
Good Monday mourning to all.
Yes, it is possible and perhaps even necessary for our mourning to be "good". Good grief really does exist. It's not just an expression of exasperation used by Charlie Brown whenever things were out of sorts. Grief is good and necessary.
Speaking of expressions of exasperation...
I was looking through the Sunday newspaper adds yesterday. It's the only reason I get the weekend newspaper. I like my Target add. I rarely ever buy anything listed in the adds but I still like to look at all the stuff. This week there was something in the adds that caught my eye. I read the description of this stadium seat that you place on the high school bleachers and sit on it. It had a back to it and arms and a padded seat and it came in several colors. I practically jumped out of my seat and exclaimed out loud, "I've found the perfect Fathers Day gift for David!"
My sister, Janet said, "Ok" with a bit of hesitancy in her voice and a slight chuckle. I appreciate her not assuming that I've lost my mind (well, actually that would be an assumption on my part). David has been gone for over 3 years now and we haven't had a kid playing in a high school football game for 4 years. All of that is beside the point! I finally found the perfect gift! David would have loved it and he would have insisted I pick up another one for his dad who always accompanied David to all of the games our two boys played.
Shopping for David was never easy. I gave up trying to buy clothes for him. He seemed to change his likes and dislikes constantly and after returning things that I had purchased just knowing he would love I just gave up and told him he was on his own. "You need it - go get it." It sounds cruel, I know. I'm not the slightest bit sorry. After a few dozen returns the only reasonable response was to let him handle his own "picky" purchases.
But this gift would have been absolutely perfect!!! I would have bought a green one to match the high school's team colors. Just thinking about it makes me smiles. I would have given it to Stephen and made him wrap it up for his dad. What fun!
Another thing that makes me smile; realizing that this little excursion down "memory lane" didn't make me sad. Not a single tear was shed! Instead I found myself laughing out loud at how ridiculous it was that I would see that item in the Sunday adds and get excited about it. I also laughed at the realization that finding the perfect gift 3 years too late was so... just like David. I actually entertained the thought of going and getting one of those chairs so I could return it later - just for the "good old days". Oh Good Grief!
Yeah, I'd say there are signs of good grief here. Great memories now bring smiles and laughter instead of sadness and tears. That's definitely a good sign.
I pray God gives you "good grief" this week. That memories will bring smiles instead of tears. If you're not quite there yet, hang on! It will come. One day you'll find yourself laughing over a silly memory and you'll recognize the signs of good grief.
I've gotta go. Those chairs might run out of stock before I get one!
Karen
Yes, it is possible and perhaps even necessary for our mourning to be "good". Good grief really does exist. It's not just an expression of exasperation used by Charlie Brown whenever things were out of sorts. Grief is good and necessary.
Speaking of expressions of exasperation...
I was looking through the Sunday newspaper adds yesterday. It's the only reason I get the weekend newspaper. I like my Target add. I rarely ever buy anything listed in the adds but I still like to look at all the stuff. This week there was something in the adds that caught my eye. I read the description of this stadium seat that you place on the high school bleachers and sit on it. It had a back to it and arms and a padded seat and it came in several colors. I practically jumped out of my seat and exclaimed out loud, "I've found the perfect Fathers Day gift for David!"
My sister, Janet said, "Ok" with a bit of hesitancy in her voice and a slight chuckle. I appreciate her not assuming that I've lost my mind (well, actually that would be an assumption on my part). David has been gone for over 3 years now and we haven't had a kid playing in a high school football game for 4 years. All of that is beside the point! I finally found the perfect gift! David would have loved it and he would have insisted I pick up another one for his dad who always accompanied David to all of the games our two boys played.
Shopping for David was never easy. I gave up trying to buy clothes for him. He seemed to change his likes and dislikes constantly and after returning things that I had purchased just knowing he would love I just gave up and told him he was on his own. "You need it - go get it." It sounds cruel, I know. I'm not the slightest bit sorry. After a few dozen returns the only reasonable response was to let him handle his own "picky" purchases.
But this gift would have been absolutely perfect!!! I would have bought a green one to match the high school's team colors. Just thinking about it makes me smiles. I would have given it to Stephen and made him wrap it up for his dad. What fun!
Another thing that makes me smile; realizing that this little excursion down "memory lane" didn't make me sad. Not a single tear was shed! Instead I found myself laughing out loud at how ridiculous it was that I would see that item in the Sunday adds and get excited about it. I also laughed at the realization that finding the perfect gift 3 years too late was so... just like David. I actually entertained the thought of going and getting one of those chairs so I could return it later - just for the "good old days". Oh Good Grief!
Yeah, I'd say there are signs of good grief here. Great memories now bring smiles and laughter instead of sadness and tears. That's definitely a good sign.
I pray God gives you "good grief" this week. That memories will bring smiles instead of tears. If you're not quite there yet, hang on! It will come. One day you'll find yourself laughing over a silly memory and you'll recognize the signs of good grief.
I've gotta go. Those chairs might run out of stock before I get one!
Karen
Monday, May 3, 2010
Stormy Weather
Spring in Michigan, like every other season, is quite unpredictable. It's a welcome pleasure after our winters but still one of those times where you just can't predict what the day will hold. I carry around with me a jacket, an umbrella and sunscreen and I just might need all of those things - in the same day!
Yesterday we had a flash-flood of sorts. There were thunderstorms that blew in and blew out quite suddenly and dumped buckets of water on everything - and everyone. I got caught in one of the deluges. In the time it took me to cross a parking lot the sprinkles started and then the sky opened and I ran for cover.
Today, however the sun is out and the grass has never looked greener. It's going to be a perfect spring day in Michigan. Maybe even a "top-down" day for the convertible! YEAH!
I had a flash flood of a different kind the other day. A "gully-washer" of grief swept in quite unexpectedly. I was doing a funeral for a family; someone died far too soon of cancer and the family needed a pastor to lead them through the funeral service. I was glad to do it. Then, just before the service starts and I'm about to enter the room they play a song over the PA. It's one of those Josh Groban songs filled with emotion and sadness. It also just happens to be a song that David and I would listen to together to help him fall asleep during that last month of his life.
OH MY! I never saw it coming! Suddenly I'm wiping away tears and frantically running for a tissue. The funeral home owner looked concerned. Another employee asked if I was OK. I wanted to say, "Of course I'm not OK! My husband died! I may never be OK." But that seemed a little reactionary and I was there to do an important job so I pushed away the tears and assured them I was fine.
I entered the room, led the funeral service, extended God's comfort and love to a hurting family and retreated to my car. Again the grief storm swept in and the "showers" began to fall. I turned on the windshield wipers and then realized that the "rain" was on the inside of the car not the outside. I turned off the wipers and laughed at myself.
Yeah... grief is like spring in Michigan. You can laugh and cry and feel just a bit crazy all at the same time. The good news is:
1. You're not crazy! Sudden "storms" of grief will blow in and out at the most unexpected times and for apparent silly reasons. They blow in, they blow out, they blow over and it's OK. You're not crazy. It's just a grief storm. It's a necessary part of the season. No point in trying to avoid it but you might want to prepare yourself; I also carry a box of tissues in the car at all times.
2. Tears are healthy. They release tension and give expression to deeply held emotions. They can actually be quite helpful and produce a "sunny" disposition afterwards.
3. Nobody dies from embarrassment. Yes, grief is humbling. I have made a fool of myself a time or two; card shops and football season seem to "push my buttons". I do my best to avoid them but when a storm of grief blows in I no longer panic. It will pass. I have now added Josh Groban to my "avoid" list.
Stormy weather. The best thing I can say about it is.... grief-storms blow in to blow out. Don't panic. You're not crazy. It's just a spring shower of grief; necessary, even healthy and healing. It's just hard to feel anything other than "all wet" when a storm hits. But hey, a little "rain" never hurt anybody and today the skies look clear and sunny. But then again... ya never know!
Karen
Yesterday we had a flash-flood of sorts. There were thunderstorms that blew in and blew out quite suddenly and dumped buckets of water on everything - and everyone. I got caught in one of the deluges. In the time it took me to cross a parking lot the sprinkles started and then the sky opened and I ran for cover.
Today, however the sun is out and the grass has never looked greener. It's going to be a perfect spring day in Michigan. Maybe even a "top-down" day for the convertible! YEAH!
I had a flash flood of a different kind the other day. A "gully-washer" of grief swept in quite unexpectedly. I was doing a funeral for a family; someone died far too soon of cancer and the family needed a pastor to lead them through the funeral service. I was glad to do it. Then, just before the service starts and I'm about to enter the room they play a song over the PA. It's one of those Josh Groban songs filled with emotion and sadness. It also just happens to be a song that David and I would listen to together to help him fall asleep during that last month of his life.
OH MY! I never saw it coming! Suddenly I'm wiping away tears and frantically running for a tissue. The funeral home owner looked concerned. Another employee asked if I was OK. I wanted to say, "Of course I'm not OK! My husband died! I may never be OK." But that seemed a little reactionary and I was there to do an important job so I pushed away the tears and assured them I was fine.
I entered the room, led the funeral service, extended God's comfort and love to a hurting family and retreated to my car. Again the grief storm swept in and the "showers" began to fall. I turned on the windshield wipers and then realized that the "rain" was on the inside of the car not the outside. I turned off the wipers and laughed at myself.
Yeah... grief is like spring in Michigan. You can laugh and cry and feel just a bit crazy all at the same time. The good news is:
1. You're not crazy! Sudden "storms" of grief will blow in and out at the most unexpected times and for apparent silly reasons. They blow in, they blow out, they blow over and it's OK. You're not crazy. It's just a grief storm. It's a necessary part of the season. No point in trying to avoid it but you might want to prepare yourself; I also carry a box of tissues in the car at all times.
2. Tears are healthy. They release tension and give expression to deeply held emotions. They can actually be quite helpful and produce a "sunny" disposition afterwards.
3. Nobody dies from embarrassment. Yes, grief is humbling. I have made a fool of myself a time or two; card shops and football season seem to "push my buttons". I do my best to avoid them but when a storm of grief blows in I no longer panic. It will pass. I have now added Josh Groban to my "avoid" list.
Stormy weather. The best thing I can say about it is.... grief-storms blow in to blow out. Don't panic. You're not crazy. It's just a spring shower of grief; necessary, even healthy and healing. It's just hard to feel anything other than "all wet" when a storm hits. But hey, a little "rain" never hurt anybody and today the skies look clear and sunny. But then again... ya never know!
Karen
Monday, April 19, 2010
A Grief Observed
C.S. Lewis wrote about his experience with grief in his book, A Grief Observed. After the death of his wife he said, "An odd byproduct of my loss is that I'm aware of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet...perhaps the bereaved ought to be isolated in special settlements like lepers." That observation produces a knowing nod from me. No one has ever actually suggested I should be locked up on some kind of commune until this grief thing passes but I'm not so sure they haven't thought about it while interacting with me over these past 3 years.
When my husband, David died everyone was so kind and understanding. I cried often. (I called it "leaking" and carried a box of tissues with me at all times for about a year). But somewhere between the first and second year of my grief I seemed to have crossed an imaginary line where public grief is no longer to be greeted with understanding kindness. I'm not really sure when I crossed the line but I'm pretty sure I did. If I get teary or (God forbid) cry over my loss I often sense that my emotion is not received well. My grief makes others uncomfortable.
Now I'm just enough of a people-pleaser to not want to make people uncomfortable so I have learned in the third year of grief to give expression to it only when I'm alone and not in public. I'm now a "closet griever"!
That sounds wrong. I think it's wrong that I feel the need to suppress honest and appropriate emotional response to a significant loss. Society seems to tell us that if we openly express our feeling of grief that we are immature or overly-emotional or flat out crazy. I don't think giving expression to grief is crazy. I think society's response to grief is crazy!
Truth is I'm not uncomfortable with my tears. I believe God gave us the ability to cry for a purpose and if the death of a loved one isn't one of those purposes then I don't what tears are for. It is not in the honest expression of emotion that we become "crazy" or unhealthy. It is in the suppression and denial of our feelings that we are often driven to unhealthy lifestyles. We pop pills or rush into other activities (shopping and new relationships) to avoid the pain. That's crazy!
So, though Mr. Lewis has a point I'm not going to succumb to societal pressures and deny or suppress my grief. I have given myself to fully feeling what I feel and working through my grief rather than avoiding and denying it. I think I'm healthier for it. It's not been pretty or neat but it has been honest and healthy.
So how are you doing with expressing grief? It's tough. It's ugly and messy and sometimes embarrassing. I remember having to flee from a Hallmark card shop because something I read caused me to break out in a tsunami of tears. I'm pretty sure they thought I was crazy. Oh well... grief happens sometimes. All I know is that grief in all its messy, ugly parts is still the only healthy, reasonable response to life's losses.
We grieve. It's the only response that makes sense. Now if only the folks that have to observe our grief could understand a little longer. Who decided where that line should be placed anyway? Perhaps some of us need to grieve longer or shorter. Who's to say what is right or appropriate here?
As I grapple with all that stuff I turn to God to help me plow through and maybe even make some sense of it along the way. I am thankful that God doesn't have time limit on my grief and even helps me laugh and smile through much of it. Apparently tears don't rattle God. I am truly thankful for that. Aren't you?
Karen
When my husband, David died everyone was so kind and understanding. I cried often. (I called it "leaking" and carried a box of tissues with me at all times for about a year). But somewhere between the first and second year of my grief I seemed to have crossed an imaginary line where public grief is no longer to be greeted with understanding kindness. I'm not really sure when I crossed the line but I'm pretty sure I did. If I get teary or (God forbid) cry over my loss I often sense that my emotion is not received well. My grief makes others uncomfortable.
Now I'm just enough of a people-pleaser to not want to make people uncomfortable so I have learned in the third year of grief to give expression to it only when I'm alone and not in public. I'm now a "closet griever"!
That sounds wrong. I think it's wrong that I feel the need to suppress honest and appropriate emotional response to a significant loss. Society seems to tell us that if we openly express our feeling of grief that we are immature or overly-emotional or flat out crazy. I don't think giving expression to grief is crazy. I think society's response to grief is crazy!
Truth is I'm not uncomfortable with my tears. I believe God gave us the ability to cry for a purpose and if the death of a loved one isn't one of those purposes then I don't what tears are for. It is not in the honest expression of emotion that we become "crazy" or unhealthy. It is in the suppression and denial of our feelings that we are often driven to unhealthy lifestyles. We pop pills or rush into other activities (shopping and new relationships) to avoid the pain. That's crazy!
So, though Mr. Lewis has a point I'm not going to succumb to societal pressures and deny or suppress my grief. I have given myself to fully feeling what I feel and working through my grief rather than avoiding and denying it. I think I'm healthier for it. It's not been pretty or neat but it has been honest and healthy.
So how are you doing with expressing grief? It's tough. It's ugly and messy and sometimes embarrassing. I remember having to flee from a Hallmark card shop because something I read caused me to break out in a tsunami of tears. I'm pretty sure they thought I was crazy. Oh well... grief happens sometimes. All I know is that grief in all its messy, ugly parts is still the only healthy, reasonable response to life's losses.
We grieve. It's the only response that makes sense. Now if only the folks that have to observe our grief could understand a little longer. Who decided where that line should be placed anyway? Perhaps some of us need to grieve longer or shorter. Who's to say what is right or appropriate here?
As I grapple with all that stuff I turn to God to help me plow through and maybe even make some sense of it along the way. I am thankful that God doesn't have time limit on my grief and even helps me laugh and smile through much of it. Apparently tears don't rattle God. I am truly thankful for that. Aren't you?
Karen
Monday, April 12, 2010
Point of Reference
Today I attended one of those all-day meetings we usually dread. Mine was actually quite nice and I had an opportunity to reconnect with an old friend, pray with a peer facing surgery and take in some pretty inspirational stuff. Not a bad day all in all....until my way out the door. I was leaving at dinner time and just happened to hit the door at the same time as another pastor friend. He held the door and quite corgially said "hello", and asked me how I was doing. I replied, "Oh just fine." And wishing to be honest (as honest as superficial smalltalk will allow) I qualified the answer with, "Just fine...for a widow". I chuckled and so did he. And then he said, "Well that's good, I guess, if that's your point of reference".
HMMM. That definitely falls under the category of "things that make you go Hmmmmm.
So I did that most of the drive home which took the greater part of an hour. That's a lot of hmmmmming. Here's what all that reflection produced:
That pastor friend is a kind and considerate man and I believe his comment was genuine puzzlement not judgement or indifference. I trust his heart to be true.
Nevertheless, the phrase "point of reference" is a curious statement. Does it mean that if I would just choose not to think of myself as a widow I wouldn't be one or at least not live in its reality? Widowhood IS my reality. I am reminded of it the moment I open my eyes in the morning and it is the last thing I am reminded of as I lay my head on my pillow at night. And all throughout the day in dozens of ways I make choices with that point of reference. Because I am a widow I drive to most places alone and often eat at restaurants alone. These events are just reality and most of the time that reality doesn't make me sad or angry - it just is. I deal with that with a matter-of-fact, positive attitude.... most of the time.
But make no mistake about it, it is my point of reference. I can no more forget I am a widow than I can forget I am a woman or a redhead or an American. It is what I live every moment of every day. To think by simply changing my perspective I can live above or aside from my widow status is naive. If I am anything, I am a realist and I try to live with both feet firmly grounded in reality.
Now widowhood is not who I am. We are far more than the titles we hold or the roles we play and those titles and roles change with the seasons of life. Five years ago I was a full-time wife and mother; Now my children are adults and I am not a wife.
I am a widow and sometimes that makes me sad or lonely or a bit frustrated but so does being broke or being overweight or being over 50. Life is full of hard stuff and being a widow is hard stuff. But for all the hard stuff of life I do believe I'm doing "just fine".
Perhaps the next time someone asks me how I'm doing I'll just tell them what they want to hear and not qualify the answer with a hint of reality.
And then again... probably not! I will continue to try and "keep it real" as I share my life with others. For some that will be uncomfortable. For some it will be an invitation to share their reality with me and I consider it a privilege anytime someone trust me enough to "be real" with me about their life. It's a sacred kind of thing and I pray God helps me to respond with understanding and compassion. Before widowhood I know I did not always respond to other's hurts as I should. Widowhood has helped me to "get a clue" and that's a good thing. You see, I really am doing just fine...for a widow. How about you?
Keeping it real,
Karen
HMMM. That definitely falls under the category of "things that make you go Hmmmmm.
So I did that most of the drive home which took the greater part of an hour. That's a lot of hmmmmming. Here's what all that reflection produced:
That pastor friend is a kind and considerate man and I believe his comment was genuine puzzlement not judgement or indifference. I trust his heart to be true.
Nevertheless, the phrase "point of reference" is a curious statement. Does it mean that if I would just choose not to think of myself as a widow I wouldn't be one or at least not live in its reality? Widowhood IS my reality. I am reminded of it the moment I open my eyes in the morning and it is the last thing I am reminded of as I lay my head on my pillow at night. And all throughout the day in dozens of ways I make choices with that point of reference. Because I am a widow I drive to most places alone and often eat at restaurants alone. These events are just reality and most of the time that reality doesn't make me sad or angry - it just is. I deal with that with a matter-of-fact, positive attitude.... most of the time.
But make no mistake about it, it is my point of reference. I can no more forget I am a widow than I can forget I am a woman or a redhead or an American. It is what I live every moment of every day. To think by simply changing my perspective I can live above or aside from my widow status is naive. If I am anything, I am a realist and I try to live with both feet firmly grounded in reality.
Now widowhood is not who I am. We are far more than the titles we hold or the roles we play and those titles and roles change with the seasons of life. Five years ago I was a full-time wife and mother; Now my children are adults and I am not a wife.
I am a widow and sometimes that makes me sad or lonely or a bit frustrated but so does being broke or being overweight or being over 50. Life is full of hard stuff and being a widow is hard stuff. But for all the hard stuff of life I do believe I'm doing "just fine".
Perhaps the next time someone asks me how I'm doing I'll just tell them what they want to hear and not qualify the answer with a hint of reality.
And then again... probably not! I will continue to try and "keep it real" as I share my life with others. For some that will be uncomfortable. For some it will be an invitation to share their reality with me and I consider it a privilege anytime someone trust me enough to "be real" with me about their life. It's a sacred kind of thing and I pray God helps me to respond with understanding and compassion. Before widowhood I know I did not always respond to other's hurts as I should. Widowhood has helped me to "get a clue" and that's a good thing. You see, I really am doing just fine...for a widow. How about you?
Keeping it real,
Karen
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Morning After
Good Monday Mourning!
Well today is the day after Valentines Day. I pray you found an opportunity to express love to those near and dear to you and that you received love from others. I had the opportunity to love some folks at church yesterday and that was fun. Good for the heart! I received lots of candy kisses and cards and even a few hugs. They were all wonderful and needed and I received them with gladness.
AND.... I prayed nearly every moment of the day that I would just make it through the day without crying. I made it through dry-eyed and no worse for wear. I am grateful that there are no more holidays centered around romance and love for many, many months. Perhaps I will be able to catch my breath and get back to some kind of emotional equalibrium now that the holidays are behind us.
I am grateful for family and friends who care for me. I am grateful for the time together; for laughter and presents and good health for all those I love. I am also grateful for "the morning after".- no more commercials about flowers and candy and romance. No more sentimental music and hype that only leads to dashed expectations and magnified loneliness. YEAH! I am quite able to handle this grieving thing with a healthy level of happiness and acceptance as long as the holidays don't push my buttons and provoke thoughts and feelings that are not helpful to my overall emotional stability.
I realized I had reached my limit when last night I screamed at my TV, "knock it off!" when they showed another valentine commercial at 10:30 in the evening. If the guy hasn't gotton Valentines Day taken care of by that hour he's not going to. No point in rubbing it in!
Well... enough of that. It is officially "the morning after". Hallelujah! The next holiday on my radar is Easter and that truly is a holy-day. I get my whole heart around that one! I'm looking for good days ahead. How about you?
Hang in there,
Pastor Karen
Well today is the day after Valentines Day. I pray you found an opportunity to express love to those near and dear to you and that you received love from others. I had the opportunity to love some folks at church yesterday and that was fun. Good for the heart! I received lots of candy kisses and cards and even a few hugs. They were all wonderful and needed and I received them with gladness.
AND.... I prayed nearly every moment of the day that I would just make it through the day without crying. I made it through dry-eyed and no worse for wear. I am grateful that there are no more holidays centered around romance and love for many, many months. Perhaps I will be able to catch my breath and get back to some kind of emotional equalibrium now that the holidays are behind us.
I am grateful for family and friends who care for me. I am grateful for the time together; for laughter and presents and good health for all those I love. I am also grateful for "the morning after".- no more commercials about flowers and candy and romance. No more sentimental music and hype that only leads to dashed expectations and magnified loneliness. YEAH! I am quite able to handle this grieving thing with a healthy level of happiness and acceptance as long as the holidays don't push my buttons and provoke thoughts and feelings that are not helpful to my overall emotional stability.
I realized I had reached my limit when last night I screamed at my TV, "knock it off!" when they showed another valentine commercial at 10:30 in the evening. If the guy hasn't gotton Valentines Day taken care of by that hour he's not going to. No point in rubbing it in!
Well... enough of that. It is officially "the morning after". Hallelujah! The next holiday on my radar is Easter and that truly is a holy-day. I get my whole heart around that one! I'm looking for good days ahead. How about you?
Hang in there,
Pastor Karen
Monday, February 8, 2010
Welcome fellow mourners,
Well, this Monday is another one of those special days for me. In 6 days we will celebrate that Hallmark/Florist holiday called Valentines Day. That means we have all heard more than our share of commercials about flowers, jewelry and chocolate. I'm assuming that the person who dreamed up this holiday had the very best of intentions and I remember the day as being lots of fun when I was in grade school. We made construction paper envelopes to hold valentines from all our classmates and then we would open them all while nibbling on chocolate kisses and cupcakes. It was fun. Not so fun these days. I don't like Valentines Day.
Early on in our marriage. David and I chose not to celebrate Valentines day. David had a dozen roses delivered to my work. They were beautiful and I basked in the joy of his love for me until about 2 weeks later when I got the credit card bill and realized that those roses cost more than dinner and the theatre- for both of us! Even though I love flowers I encouraged David to pass on the roses at Valentines day. It just seemed to be the practical thing to do for a young couple with kids to feed and bills to pay.
So for a decade or more David and I agreed to spend NO money for the Hallmark holidays. Then about 15 years into our No-hallmark holiday spending pack David changed the rules. Six days before Valentines day David walked into my office with a bouquet of flowers; 6 roses with a little greenery; no vase, no box, no bow. I began to object and remind him that we don't spend money on overpriced flowers when he interrupted me. He was quite pleased with himself as he explained that the roses were under $20.00 because he got only 1/2 a dozen from a grocery store and delivered them in person which of course, earned him a "good job!" from me along with lots of kisses. I really do love flowers.
What a great memory! Now, six days before Valentines Day, I sit at my computer with a choice to be made. Will I spend this day saddened about the fact that I will not be getting any flowers today or anytime soon? Or will I cherish the memory of just how much my good guy loved me and found a way to express it "on the cheap"?
I put that thought on hold and took a few long sips of my coffee. It is Monday and I'm often a little gloomy on Mondays - mostly due to weekend fatigue. So I have learned to think twice before making decisions on Mondays.
Here's a thought! Maybe I should go to the grocery store and pick up half a dozen roses and put them on my desk. I can look at them all week and remember just how clever and loving my husband was. I Know! I'll get a dozen and share them with some friends who, like me, are living without a partner. Now that sounds like fun. I may have to get two dozen. And here lies another secret to handling grief instead of letting grief man-handle you: Lavish love on others and you will have less time to cry about the love you miss.
Find someone this week to give one of those childish valentines or a candy kiss to. It will do YOU a lot of good. I've got to go - those flower prices are going up!
Karen
Well, this Monday is another one of those special days for me. In 6 days we will celebrate that Hallmark/Florist holiday called Valentines Day. That means we have all heard more than our share of commercials about flowers, jewelry and chocolate. I'm assuming that the person who dreamed up this holiday had the very best of intentions and I remember the day as being lots of fun when I was in grade school. We made construction paper envelopes to hold valentines from all our classmates and then we would open them all while nibbling on chocolate kisses and cupcakes. It was fun. Not so fun these days. I don't like Valentines Day.
Early on in our marriage. David and I chose not to celebrate Valentines day. David had a dozen roses delivered to my work. They were beautiful and I basked in the joy of his love for me until about 2 weeks later when I got the credit card bill and realized that those roses cost more than dinner and the theatre- for both of us! Even though I love flowers I encouraged David to pass on the roses at Valentines day. It just seemed to be the practical thing to do for a young couple with kids to feed and bills to pay.
So for a decade or more David and I agreed to spend NO money for the Hallmark holidays. Then about 15 years into our No-hallmark holiday spending pack David changed the rules. Six days before Valentines day David walked into my office with a bouquet of flowers; 6 roses with a little greenery; no vase, no box, no bow. I began to object and remind him that we don't spend money on overpriced flowers when he interrupted me. He was quite pleased with himself as he explained that the roses were under $20.00 because he got only 1/2 a dozen from a grocery store and delivered them in person which of course, earned him a "good job!" from me along with lots of kisses. I really do love flowers.
What a great memory! Now, six days before Valentines Day, I sit at my computer with a choice to be made. Will I spend this day saddened about the fact that I will not be getting any flowers today or anytime soon? Or will I cherish the memory of just how much my good guy loved me and found a way to express it "on the cheap"?
I put that thought on hold and took a few long sips of my coffee. It is Monday and I'm often a little gloomy on Mondays - mostly due to weekend fatigue. So I have learned to think twice before making decisions on Mondays.
Here's a thought! Maybe I should go to the grocery store and pick up half a dozen roses and put them on my desk. I can look at them all week and remember just how clever and loving my husband was. I Know! I'll get a dozen and share them with some friends who, like me, are living without a partner. Now that sounds like fun. I may have to get two dozen. And here lies another secret to handling grief instead of letting grief man-handle you: Lavish love on others and you will have less time to cry about the love you miss.
Find someone this week to give one of those childish valentines or a candy kiss to. It will do YOU a lot of good. I've got to go - those flower prices are going up!
Karen
Monday, February 1, 2010
Out of the Closet
Good Monday Mourning fellow grievers,
I slept in a bit this morning. Winter does that to me. How about you? Well, I finally crawled out of bed and went to my closet to find something to wear. I opened the folding doors wide and gazed into the side with all the shirts and sweaters - not to be confused with the side that holds the dresses and skirts. The two sections are divided by a row of shelves and cubbies that hold shoes, scarves and belts. So as I'm looking through the row of neatly hung clothes for something warm (very warm!) I realize something unusual is happening - at least unusual for a Monday morning; I was smiling. Yes! I confess, the sight of a closet not jammed with clothes; one where there is enough space for everything makes me smile.
I know that's a silly thing. I admit I am a bit embarrassed that something like adequate closet space makes me smile. Closet space is not a life-changing topic with any eternal value but I still smiled.
And then as quickly as the smile came it left- abruptly and quite unsettling as I realized WHY I finally have enough closet space; David died. I'm not sharing the space with men's suits and bowling balls and other silly things men think they should put in a closet. I'm not sharing the space anymore. (I actually tried to convince David that he should store his stuff in the spare bedroom closet so he wouldnt be so crowded in ours. He said he didnt feel crowded at all and maybe the problem was that I had too many clothes. Really! Men are so strange!)Adequate closet space is a nice thing to have but not if somebody has to die in order to get it.
This is the nature of grief. Everytime you think you might take some pleasure or delight in life - even in the little things like closet space - grief gets right up in your face like some drill sargent and tells you to wipe that silly smile off your face 'cause you got no reason to smile.
Well when this happens (and if you've grieved for a while I know i'ts happened to you) I fight back. I refuse to let grief fill me with false guilt and rob me of joy or happiness. David died and that is truly awful. But I will claim the whole closet and I will smile about it. Grief tries to tell us that we should never be happy again because our loved one is gone. Everytime a laugh or a smile breaks through grief is there to say, "how could you think of being happy at a time like this?!" I fight it! I do not let that lie take hold in my mind or my heart. You should fight it too. Yes, it is OK for me to be happy even while I grieve. Those two emotions are not mutually exclusive; they can coexist and I actually look for ways to find happiness in the little daily pleasures. Things like having the TV remote all to myself and wearing flannel to bed and closets that work. I am happy about such things and that doesnt mean I don't miss my husband. I miss him...every day AND I make the best of this "table for One". If being happy about closets void of men's baseball cleats that havent been worn in 10 years is wrong then I guess you can say, I'm "out of the closet!" Call me wrong. Just don't mess with my closet.
I hope you find something today to smile about. Tell me what makes you smile. Surely someone has one as silly as mine. Besides, God smiles at silly things too. He smiles at you and me... now that's silly!
Smile.
Karen
I slept in a bit this morning. Winter does that to me. How about you? Well, I finally crawled out of bed and went to my closet to find something to wear. I opened the folding doors wide and gazed into the side with all the shirts and sweaters - not to be confused with the side that holds the dresses and skirts. The two sections are divided by a row of shelves and cubbies that hold shoes, scarves and belts. So as I'm looking through the row of neatly hung clothes for something warm (very warm!) I realize something unusual is happening - at least unusual for a Monday morning; I was smiling. Yes! I confess, the sight of a closet not jammed with clothes; one where there is enough space for everything makes me smile.
I know that's a silly thing. I admit I am a bit embarrassed that something like adequate closet space makes me smile. Closet space is not a life-changing topic with any eternal value but I still smiled.
And then as quickly as the smile came it left- abruptly and quite unsettling as I realized WHY I finally have enough closet space; David died. I'm not sharing the space with men's suits and bowling balls and other silly things men think they should put in a closet. I'm not sharing the space anymore. (I actually tried to convince David that he should store his stuff in the spare bedroom closet so he wouldnt be so crowded in ours. He said he didnt feel crowded at all and maybe the problem was that I had too many clothes. Really! Men are so strange!)Adequate closet space is a nice thing to have but not if somebody has to die in order to get it.
This is the nature of grief. Everytime you think you might take some pleasure or delight in life - even in the little things like closet space - grief gets right up in your face like some drill sargent and tells you to wipe that silly smile off your face 'cause you got no reason to smile.
Well when this happens (and if you've grieved for a while I know i'ts happened to you) I fight back. I refuse to let grief fill me with false guilt and rob me of joy or happiness. David died and that is truly awful. But I will claim the whole closet and I will smile about it. Grief tries to tell us that we should never be happy again because our loved one is gone. Everytime a laugh or a smile breaks through grief is there to say, "how could you think of being happy at a time like this?!" I fight it! I do not let that lie take hold in my mind or my heart. You should fight it too. Yes, it is OK for me to be happy even while I grieve. Those two emotions are not mutually exclusive; they can coexist and I actually look for ways to find happiness in the little daily pleasures. Things like having the TV remote all to myself and wearing flannel to bed and closets that work. I am happy about such things and that doesnt mean I don't miss my husband. I miss him...every day AND I make the best of this "table for One". If being happy about closets void of men's baseball cleats that havent been worn in 10 years is wrong then I guess you can say, I'm "out of the closet!" Call me wrong. Just don't mess with my closet.
I hope you find something today to smile about. Tell me what makes you smile. Surely someone has one as silly as mine. Besides, God smiles at silly things too. He smiles at you and me... now that's silly!
Smile.
Karen
Monday, January 25, 2010
A Good Cry
Good Monday Morning!
I'm taking the "good" on faith. Sometimes Mondays are tough but I'm up and out and sitting at my "table for One" with my pink mini laptop and ready to talk with you.
Something strange happened yesterday. I was in church and had just settled into the pew as the offering plates were being passed. A lady started to sing a song titled "You Alone" which is really lovely and speaks of how in times of trouble God is there to help. He alone is our source of strength. Seems like a very positive and helpful message and I should have rejoiced and maybe even thanked God for His care for me. Instead what I did was totally unexplainable. I started to cry. I don't mean the "tear in the corner of the eye" kind of cry. That would have been OK. I had one of those "cant wipe the tears away fast enough, blow your nose before you make a total fool of yourself" kind of cry. I think it was the word "alone" that slapped me upside the head and caused the sudden flood of sadness. That word was sung at the beginning of each phrase and I found myself feeling quite alone while surrounded by people.
What makes this even stranger is that I have spent most of my adult life sitting alone in church. David (my husband of 27 years) was the door man at the church and rarely sat with me during services. I sat alone and it never caused me to boo-hoo.
The song ended and I managed to pull it together, annoyed with myself and a little startled that the tears flowed so quickly and easily. I looked around the room and started to count the heads of those who, like me, worship alone every week. Over 40% of the worshipers were single adults. Apparently I am not alone in my aloneness.
The sadness left as quick as it came and I went on with my day in relative contentment. Sadness came and then left all in the space of a song. What's all that about???
Well, that's the nature of grief. Just when you think you got the whole thing under control and are "back to normal" a wave of grief will wash over you with the force of a tsunami. I am thankful for the tell-tale signs of progress. The wave swept in and out without leaving an undertow of sadness that lingered for days. I would still like to not cry in public without notice but surely God gave us tears for our own benefit and I did strangly feel better when my little cry was done. Go figure! I said it was strange! This is the nature of grief. Unpredictable and messy. Relentless and unexplainable. I'm doing my best to just deal with it. How about you?
I am thankful for a God who alone is our source of comfort and I ask Him to help me to remember that I am not alone in my aloneness. I am among the 40% of regular church-going adults who are single. I know it seems like the whole world is ordered by married couples and families but the truth is most of us will spend some portion of our days living single. I am just one of them and even in my singleness I am not alone; surrounded by lots of loving friends and family and a God who will never leave me. Now if I could just figure out how to turn off the tears at will...
It's a strange thing. Well, let's get on with the week and do our best and if you feel the need, go ahead and cry. A good cry never hurt anybody and sometimes it even helps.
God bless you.
Karen
I'm taking the "good" on faith. Sometimes Mondays are tough but I'm up and out and sitting at my "table for One" with my pink mini laptop and ready to talk with you.
Something strange happened yesterday. I was in church and had just settled into the pew as the offering plates were being passed. A lady started to sing a song titled "You Alone" which is really lovely and speaks of how in times of trouble God is there to help. He alone is our source of strength. Seems like a very positive and helpful message and I should have rejoiced and maybe even thanked God for His care for me. Instead what I did was totally unexplainable. I started to cry. I don't mean the "tear in the corner of the eye" kind of cry. That would have been OK. I had one of those "cant wipe the tears away fast enough, blow your nose before you make a total fool of yourself" kind of cry. I think it was the word "alone" that slapped me upside the head and caused the sudden flood of sadness. That word was sung at the beginning of each phrase and I found myself feeling quite alone while surrounded by people.
What makes this even stranger is that I have spent most of my adult life sitting alone in church. David (my husband of 27 years) was the door man at the church and rarely sat with me during services. I sat alone and it never caused me to boo-hoo.
The song ended and I managed to pull it together, annoyed with myself and a little startled that the tears flowed so quickly and easily. I looked around the room and started to count the heads of those who, like me, worship alone every week. Over 40% of the worshipers were single adults. Apparently I am not alone in my aloneness.
The sadness left as quick as it came and I went on with my day in relative contentment. Sadness came and then left all in the space of a song. What's all that about???
Well, that's the nature of grief. Just when you think you got the whole thing under control and are "back to normal" a wave of grief will wash over you with the force of a tsunami. I am thankful for the tell-tale signs of progress. The wave swept in and out without leaving an undertow of sadness that lingered for days. I would still like to not cry in public without notice but surely God gave us tears for our own benefit and I did strangly feel better when my little cry was done. Go figure! I said it was strange! This is the nature of grief. Unpredictable and messy. Relentless and unexplainable. I'm doing my best to just deal with it. How about you?
I am thankful for a God who alone is our source of comfort and I ask Him to help me to remember that I am not alone in my aloneness. I am among the 40% of regular church-going adults who are single. I know it seems like the whole world is ordered by married couples and families but the truth is most of us will spend some portion of our days living single. I am just one of them and even in my singleness I am not alone; surrounded by lots of loving friends and family and a God who will never leave me. Now if I could just figure out how to turn off the tears at will...
It's a strange thing. Well, let's get on with the week and do our best and if you feel the need, go ahead and cry. A good cry never hurt anybody and sometimes it even helps.
God bless you.
Karen
Monday, January 18, 2010
Lemonade
Good morning Monday Mourners!
This week I took my father-in-law, Clarence to the doctor. That's not all that interesting (usually), but this time it was quite different. It was an eye doctor about 30 minutes from home and Clarence, who's 85 and not seeing so well (thus the eye doctor)asked me to drive him. We'd been to this doctor many times and it always took about an hour. Okay, "always" is obviously too strong a word since this time it took us 5 hours. Yes! I said five. F-I-V-E.
What was amazing to me (besides the number 5) was my reaction to this. Instead of being anxious about the lost hours of productivity and the fact that I had missed at least one appointment and several deadlines; instead of becoming impatient and irritated at the pace; instead of complaining or worrying, I simply sat beside Clarence and enjoyed his company. My husband was an only child which, after his death three years ago, makes me Clarence's only child. So at the conclusion of the lengthy doctor's visit I dropped Clarence back safe and sound at his home and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about my response. It seemed so atypical for me. I am not known for my patience. And yet I was amazingly calm and truly unconcerned about the unexpected delay and lost hours just sitting with Clarence.
It made me wonder why. The best I can figure it out death and grief have a way of changing us. At least it's changed me. I just don't seem able to get all that exercised about those things that used to irritate the stuffing out of me. Death and loss have a way of putting things into perspective. I often hear myself responding to the difficulty of the day with "hey, nobodies dying!". Death has changed me. I suppose that's not a bad thing. My new calmer, resigned attitude certainly helped Clarence and me get through a long day. Instead of becoming sour over the "lemons" we were handed, we chose to make "lemonade". It was actually sweet.
Some of the sweetness might have been the company. When David became sick he asked me to take care of his dad and spending the day with Clarence made me feel like I was still David's wife. I was doing "wifely" stuff that day and it felt good. Lemonade. This week I thanked God for lemonade and for the joy (yes, joy is the right word) of sitting in a doctor's office with Clarence. It was good for me and for Clarence. I know David would have been pleased and that too is worth thanking God for. Lemonade. It's all quite bitter-sweet.
That's a good description for this thing we call grief. All of life; every holiday and special event; even the daily routines become sweet and bitter at the same time. Bitter. Sweet. Lemonade.
This week I celebrated the sweet of being given an opportunity to do the "wifely" thing rather than complain about the bitter of 5 wasted hours. I chose to savor the sweet and overlook the bitter. It is a choice. This past week, I chose sweet and I've been thanking God for that. How are you doing with your "bitter"? Can you see the "sweet"? I know, sometimes it's harder to find the sweet but it's there. Ask God to help you see it. Maybe Clarence isn't the only one having trouble seeing. I pray you sip on lemonade this week every chance you get. I pray that for me too!
See you next Monday,
Karen
This week I took my father-in-law, Clarence to the doctor. That's not all that interesting (usually), but this time it was quite different. It was an eye doctor about 30 minutes from home and Clarence, who's 85 and not seeing so well (thus the eye doctor)asked me to drive him. We'd been to this doctor many times and it always took about an hour. Okay, "always" is obviously too strong a word since this time it took us 5 hours. Yes! I said five. F-I-V-E.
What was amazing to me (besides the number 5) was my reaction to this. Instead of being anxious about the lost hours of productivity and the fact that I had missed at least one appointment and several deadlines; instead of becoming impatient and irritated at the pace; instead of complaining or worrying, I simply sat beside Clarence and enjoyed his company. My husband was an only child which, after his death three years ago, makes me Clarence's only child. So at the conclusion of the lengthy doctor's visit I dropped Clarence back safe and sound at his home and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about my response. It seemed so atypical for me. I am not known for my patience. And yet I was amazingly calm and truly unconcerned about the unexpected delay and lost hours just sitting with Clarence.
It made me wonder why. The best I can figure it out death and grief have a way of changing us. At least it's changed me. I just don't seem able to get all that exercised about those things that used to irritate the stuffing out of me. Death and loss have a way of putting things into perspective. I often hear myself responding to the difficulty of the day with "hey, nobodies dying!". Death has changed me. I suppose that's not a bad thing. My new calmer, resigned attitude certainly helped Clarence and me get through a long day. Instead of becoming sour over the "lemons" we were handed, we chose to make "lemonade". It was actually sweet.
Some of the sweetness might have been the company. When David became sick he asked me to take care of his dad and spending the day with Clarence made me feel like I was still David's wife. I was doing "wifely" stuff that day and it felt good. Lemonade. This week I thanked God for lemonade and for the joy (yes, joy is the right word) of sitting in a doctor's office with Clarence. It was good for me and for Clarence. I know David would have been pleased and that too is worth thanking God for. Lemonade. It's all quite bitter-sweet.
That's a good description for this thing we call grief. All of life; every holiday and special event; even the daily routines become sweet and bitter at the same time. Bitter. Sweet. Lemonade.
This week I celebrated the sweet of being given an opportunity to do the "wifely" thing rather than complain about the bitter of 5 wasted hours. I chose to savor the sweet and overlook the bitter. It is a choice. This past week, I chose sweet and I've been thanking God for that. How are you doing with your "bitter"? Can you see the "sweet"? I know, sometimes it's harder to find the sweet but it's there. Ask God to help you see it. Maybe Clarence isn't the only one having trouble seeing. I pray you sip on lemonade this week every chance you get. I pray that for me too!
See you next Monday,
Karen
Monday, January 11, 2010
Snow Days
Good morning Monday Mourners!
It's a lovely Monday morning in Michigan in January which means it's really cold and pretty much everything in sight is covered in snow. As with most of the nation this past week, I found myself holding a shovel - several times. Now shoveling snow is really not a complicated task. You push and you scoop. I am not too frail or impaired physically so as to make the job too difficult. I also have only a short sidewalk and porch that require snow-removal. Nevertheless, I hate the job! But I don't hate it for all the obvious reasons. It's not because it's too cold outside or the snow is too heavy or wet. (though snow is always cold and wet) I grew up in Michigan. Shoveling snow is part of the "gig". Here's why I hate shoveling snow:
It's a "David job". My husband of 27 years shoveled the snow. He would often gather the children to help (now there's someone who truly hates shoveling snow - any teenager). I did not shovel. Mom got a pass! My job was to have a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him when he was finished. Then David died about the same time as the kids hit college. Now shoveling is my job. And that's why I hate it. It's a "David job". Every time I pick up that shovel I am reminded of my loss. It's as though the shovel screams, "WIDOW!" with every scoop.
Three years later and the shovel still screams at me. So do light bulbs that need changing, spiders that need killing and changing the clocks twice a year when the time-zone changes (another Michigan oddity). All are "David jobs". I have been known to leave a burned-out light bulb in place for weeks before dealing with it. Light bulbs are not complicated. I just hate doing the "David jobs". They remind me of loss and force me to make adjustments I never wanted to make. And this is grief. It's constant - unyielding - and totally irritating. (and those are just the polite words)
So how do we deal with it? Well, on the first winter of grief I cried with every scoop of the shovel. I don't recommend you do that! Tears freeze. The second winter I got angry and yelled at the snow and at David for not being there to handle this mess. That was at least productive- the anger helped me shovel harder and faster.
This week the shovel screamed "WIDOW" and I pretended not to hear it and got the job done with little trouble or sadness. I guess you could call that "progress".
I have learned to do a little mind-exercise whenever one of these grief waves slaps me from behind. I quickly remind myself of the blessing of having a David to do those jobs for 27 years and I think about my sister and several close friends who have never married and spent all of those 27 years shoveling their own snow. God surely blessed me with a good husband and more than adequate snow remover for most of my adult life. I got no reason to complain. Complaining is a choice and, more than often, a simple issue of perspective. I make the choice to celebrate my blessings instead of stewing over my losses -even when the shovel screams at me.
"whatsoever things are true and noble and good and honorable and praiseworthy, think on those things." GOD
So how are you doing with all that? Where ever you find yourself today in the grief process there are still blessings worth celebrating. And it is truly helpful when we do. So if you can find the energy and the courage go ahead - celebrate what you have while you grieve what you've lost. It doesn't make the loss go away but it does make the "screaming shovel" a little easier to take.
My second cup of coffee has just been poured and so I'm done for now. I pray you have a good week. Yes, good weeks are possible even with grief.
See you on Monday. Let me know how you're doing with your grief. I cant fix it but I do know how to pray.
Coffee's getting cold! Karen
PS: At 9:00am - It's snowing....again!
PSS: At 11:00am - It's snowing...again!
It's a lovely Monday morning in Michigan in January which means it's really cold and pretty much everything in sight is covered in snow. As with most of the nation this past week, I found myself holding a shovel - several times. Now shoveling snow is really not a complicated task. You push and you scoop. I am not too frail or impaired physically so as to make the job too difficult. I also have only a short sidewalk and porch that require snow-removal. Nevertheless, I hate the job! But I don't hate it for all the obvious reasons. It's not because it's too cold outside or the snow is too heavy or wet. (though snow is always cold and wet) I grew up in Michigan. Shoveling snow is part of the "gig". Here's why I hate shoveling snow:
It's a "David job". My husband of 27 years shoveled the snow. He would often gather the children to help (now there's someone who truly hates shoveling snow - any teenager). I did not shovel. Mom got a pass! My job was to have a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him when he was finished. Then David died about the same time as the kids hit college. Now shoveling is my job. And that's why I hate it. It's a "David job". Every time I pick up that shovel I am reminded of my loss. It's as though the shovel screams, "WIDOW!" with every scoop.
Three years later and the shovel still screams at me. So do light bulbs that need changing, spiders that need killing and changing the clocks twice a year when the time-zone changes (another Michigan oddity). All are "David jobs". I have been known to leave a burned-out light bulb in place for weeks before dealing with it. Light bulbs are not complicated. I just hate doing the "David jobs". They remind me of loss and force me to make adjustments I never wanted to make. And this is grief. It's constant - unyielding - and totally irritating. (and those are just the polite words)
So how do we deal with it? Well, on the first winter of grief I cried with every scoop of the shovel. I don't recommend you do that! Tears freeze. The second winter I got angry and yelled at the snow and at David for not being there to handle this mess. That was at least productive- the anger helped me shovel harder and faster.
This week the shovel screamed "WIDOW" and I pretended not to hear it and got the job done with little trouble or sadness. I guess you could call that "progress".
I have learned to do a little mind-exercise whenever one of these grief waves slaps me from behind. I quickly remind myself of the blessing of having a David to do those jobs for 27 years and I think about my sister and several close friends who have never married and spent all of those 27 years shoveling their own snow. God surely blessed me with a good husband and more than adequate snow remover for most of my adult life. I got no reason to complain. Complaining is a choice and, more than often, a simple issue of perspective. I make the choice to celebrate my blessings instead of stewing over my losses -even when the shovel screams at me.
"whatsoever things are true and noble and good and honorable and praiseworthy, think on those things." GOD
So how are you doing with all that? Where ever you find yourself today in the grief process there are still blessings worth celebrating. And it is truly helpful when we do. So if you can find the energy and the courage go ahead - celebrate what you have while you grieve what you've lost. It doesn't make the loss go away but it does make the "screaming shovel" a little easier to take.
My second cup of coffee has just been poured and so I'm done for now. I pray you have a good week. Yes, good weeks are possible even with grief.
See you on Monday. Let me know how you're doing with your grief. I cant fix it but I do know how to pray.
Coffee's getting cold! Karen
PS: At 9:00am - It's snowing....again!
PSS: At 11:00am - It's snowing...again!
Monday, January 4, 2010
What's New?
Good morning and a very happy new year to all. Yes, it is the first Monday of a new year which I suppose implies that this Monday is filled with a newness - a fresh start and new beginning that the last month of Mondays did not possess. I suppose. I'm not convinced that an arbitrary turning of the clock or calendar brings about anything particularly new or fresh. Of course I live in Michigan and January is usually one of the coldest, sunless, miserable months of the year so its just a little difficult for me to get on the "Yeah! It's a new year!" bandwagon. I'm cold. I'm starting the new year like I have started every new year of most of my life; dieting and budgeting. Both activities make me just a bit cranky. This year I am also grieving. Now there's something to get excited about? The scripture comes to mind, "there is nothing new under the sun".
I wish we could start the new year by throwing away the things in our lives we would like to be rid of like we toss away the empty boxes and wrapping paper from Christmas. Wouldn't that be a great way to start the new year? Just scoop up my careless spending and my 20 extra pounds and throw them out with the trash. Now that's something I could get excited about. Clearly, that's not going to happen. The only way I'm going to be rid of such things is with a whole lot of effort on my part. Oh well, enough of this whining and wishing. Mondays in January do this to me. So does grief.
I actually thought last year that I would be able to just make up my mind to be done with this grieving thing and start the new year with no more tears and loneliness; no more longing and sadness. It was, after all, well into my second year of grief and so I figured I had grieved long enough. A good year past the normal, one year of grief that society seems to expect and well past my tolerance level for carrying around such negative emotions with me. Those things get heavy. They really do drag you down. But just like the weight and the budget, grief is not something you can just put out with the trash and be done with. If making up my mind to be done with it was all it took to put this season of grief behind me I would have done that about a month into the process. It just flat out doesnt work that way! Bummer!
So, arent you glad you checked in with me today?! Sorry. I'm not bringing a whole lot of joy and hope to the table. (OK - I've not finished my first cup of coffee yet. Maybe that's the problem. Let me put us on pause and see if a few more gulps of hot caffeine will warm up my mood.)
PAUSE
Jesus said, "I am making all things new". He said, "I have come to heal the brokenhearted and turn their mourning into joy." OK. I believe that is true - even if I dont feel joyful or new this morning. I am in His hands and I am His. For my lonliness, He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For my sadness and longing, He has promised to meet my every need - even those intangable, emotional ones that nobody sees but me and God. I can't choose to be rid of my grief. I can choose to not let my grief run my life and ruin my day. I can think on the good stuff of my life and the goodness of God. It doesn't make the grief go away but it does seem to make it managable.
So on this first Monday of the new year I will eat my bowl of fruit and put away my ATM card - just like I did on the first Monday of last year. I will do my part. AND I will hold tight to God's hand and hope for sunny days real soon. Ones where the temperature is at least 20 degrees warmer and my body is 20 pounds lighter and my bank account is 20% richer and.... grief is no longer that heavy weight I drag along with me everywhere I go. wait -maybe that's where those 20 pounds came from!
Well... that's all I got. Some days are just like that for me. I'm pretty sure you have days like that too. It's OK. Even when we dont feel all shiny and new God is still here with us and if we let Him He will work in us making us new from the inside out. I'm just going to do my part to cooperate with His work in me and try not to get cranky at His speed- or lack of speed. It will take effort, no doubt about it. Did I mention that it's a Michigan Monday in January?
I wish we could start the new year by throwing away the things in our lives we would like to be rid of like we toss away the empty boxes and wrapping paper from Christmas. Wouldn't that be a great way to start the new year? Just scoop up my careless spending and my 20 extra pounds and throw them out with the trash. Now that's something I could get excited about. Clearly, that's not going to happen. The only way I'm going to be rid of such things is with a whole lot of effort on my part. Oh well, enough of this whining and wishing. Mondays in January do this to me. So does grief.
I actually thought last year that I would be able to just make up my mind to be done with this grieving thing and start the new year with no more tears and loneliness; no more longing and sadness. It was, after all, well into my second year of grief and so I figured I had grieved long enough. A good year past the normal, one year of grief that society seems to expect and well past my tolerance level for carrying around such negative emotions with me. Those things get heavy. They really do drag you down. But just like the weight and the budget, grief is not something you can just put out with the trash and be done with. If making up my mind to be done with it was all it took to put this season of grief behind me I would have done that about a month into the process. It just flat out doesnt work that way! Bummer!
So, arent you glad you checked in with me today?! Sorry. I'm not bringing a whole lot of joy and hope to the table. (OK - I've not finished my first cup of coffee yet. Maybe that's the problem. Let me put us on pause and see if a few more gulps of hot caffeine will warm up my mood.)
PAUSE
Jesus said, "I am making all things new". He said, "I have come to heal the brokenhearted and turn their mourning into joy." OK. I believe that is true - even if I dont feel joyful or new this morning. I am in His hands and I am His. For my lonliness, He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For my sadness and longing, He has promised to meet my every need - even those intangable, emotional ones that nobody sees but me and God. I can't choose to be rid of my grief. I can choose to not let my grief run my life and ruin my day. I can think on the good stuff of my life and the goodness of God. It doesn't make the grief go away but it does seem to make it managable.
So on this first Monday of the new year I will eat my bowl of fruit and put away my ATM card - just like I did on the first Monday of last year. I will do my part. AND I will hold tight to God's hand and hope for sunny days real soon. Ones where the temperature is at least 20 degrees warmer and my body is 20 pounds lighter and my bank account is 20% richer and.... grief is no longer that heavy weight I drag along with me everywhere I go. wait -maybe that's where those 20 pounds came from!
Well... that's all I got. Some days are just like that for me. I'm pretty sure you have days like that too. It's OK. Even when we dont feel all shiny and new God is still here with us and if we let Him He will work in us making us new from the inside out. I'm just going to do my part to cooperate with His work in me and try not to get cranky at His speed- or lack of speed. It will take effort, no doubt about it. Did I mention that it's a Michigan Monday in January?
Monday, December 28, 2009
And It Came To Pass!
And a very Merry Monday Mourning to you all! It's time for the post-Christmas wrap-up. I actually winced a little as I typed the word "wrap". PLEASE! No more wrapping! This year our Christmas tradition changed quite a bit. I have entered the empty-nest stage of life (almost) with two of three children married and moved out of state. So the unwrapping stage of the holiday now takes 3 days instead of one. I'm not sure I like all this change. I am pretty sure that my not liking it isn't going to make it stop anytime soon so I best just "suck it up" and adjust.
Well in spite of the three-day process and the general exhaustion that comes with it the Payne family managed to all get in the same room at the same time for a little food and a lot of laughter not to mention some serious unwrapping. OK. There was more than a "little" food. We will be eating left-overs for several days. So before I make that mental shift and look forward to the new year and the promise that it holds, it seems appropriate, if not necessary, that I pause to reflect and give thanks.
Thanks for the joy of family - together - healthy and employed - loving and supportive. Family is good (even the gnarly parts) and God surely knew what He was doing when He dreamed up the family. I am thankful for three kids (now 5 due to marriage), one sister and a father-in-law. God has been good to me this week. Even in the midst of changes I'm still not all that happy with (two of three children live out of state and my husband now resides in heaven)I am blessed.
And in this little exercise of expressing gratitude for the blessings I have I think I just might be finding one of the keys to surviving loss. Perhaps it really is important that we give expression to what is "right" in our life at least as often as we stew about what's "wrong". My post-Christmas play-by-play will consist of the joys that I shared this past week instead of what was missing from the holidays. Yes, I missed having my husband with me as the kids opened their gifts. Yes, I missed sharing long-held family traditions now changed due to death and distance. BUT - I had a great time this Christmas and on this Monday Mourning I'm choosing to bask in the glow of "Christmas Present" instead of wishing for "Christmas Past". "Christmas Future" is next week's topic. Are you ready for New Year's resolutions and a fresh start? Yeah, me neither but it's OK. Just like Christmas it will "come to pass" and we will get through it just fine. Especially if we give more thought to the good and to what we have than to the wrong and what we've lost. God has been good to me. How about you?
Well this week we will all be busy - the tree needs to come down and the presents put away. The refrigerator will need to be emptied of all its contraband and more healthy stuff put in its place. But for today - I'm basking and having another sugar cookie! Go ahead. Bask. It will do your heart good. "Whatever is good...think on these things."
See you next year,
Karen
Well in spite of the three-day process and the general exhaustion that comes with it the Payne family managed to all get in the same room at the same time for a little food and a lot of laughter not to mention some serious unwrapping. OK. There was more than a "little" food. We will be eating left-overs for several days. So before I make that mental shift and look forward to the new year and the promise that it holds, it seems appropriate, if not necessary, that I pause to reflect and give thanks.
Thanks for the joy of family - together - healthy and employed - loving and supportive. Family is good (even the gnarly parts) and God surely knew what He was doing when He dreamed up the family. I am thankful for three kids (now 5 due to marriage), one sister and a father-in-law. God has been good to me this week. Even in the midst of changes I'm still not all that happy with (two of three children live out of state and my husband now resides in heaven)I am blessed.
And in this little exercise of expressing gratitude for the blessings I have I think I just might be finding one of the keys to surviving loss. Perhaps it really is important that we give expression to what is "right" in our life at least as often as we stew about what's "wrong". My post-Christmas play-by-play will consist of the joys that I shared this past week instead of what was missing from the holidays. Yes, I missed having my husband with me as the kids opened their gifts. Yes, I missed sharing long-held family traditions now changed due to death and distance. BUT - I had a great time this Christmas and on this Monday Mourning I'm choosing to bask in the glow of "Christmas Present" instead of wishing for "Christmas Past". "Christmas Future" is next week's topic. Are you ready for New Year's resolutions and a fresh start? Yeah, me neither but it's OK. Just like Christmas it will "come to pass" and we will get through it just fine. Especially if we give more thought to the good and to what we have than to the wrong and what we've lost. God has been good to me. How about you?
Well this week we will all be busy - the tree needs to come down and the presents put away. The refrigerator will need to be emptied of all its contraband and more healthy stuff put in its place. But for today - I'm basking and having another sugar cookie! Go ahead. Bask. It will do your heart good. "Whatever is good...think on these things."
See you next year,
Karen
Monday, December 21, 2009
Merry Christmas
It's Monday and so I've managed to drag myself out of bed after a very busy Sunday of ministry at my church. I'm feeling a bit scattered so I'm doing a quick checklist of the necessary tools to complete the task of talking with you:
Coffee- check. Pink mini laptop- check. Favorite booth at the diner- check, almost. I got here late and someone is sitting in MY booth. I'm sure the one I'm in will still work so after a few gulps of coffee.... here goes.
You'll never guess what happened this week! I was finishing up the last of my shopping- now there's a funny statement. I have decided that there is no point to getting the shopping done "early" because I will continue to think of more things to pick up right up to Christmas eve. So I should really just wait until the last week to get it done. Perhaps then I would spend less. Well, perhaps. Anyways, I was at the checkout counter and the clerk was ringing up my order when she looked up at me and chuckled. It wasn't until I saw her response that I realized that I was singing along with the Christmas music being played in the store ---- OUTLOUD. It was WinterWonderland and I was singing the harmony part and kind of swaying with the music. I stopped.She stopped. Then I laughed and said to the clerk, "Come on you can sing along too, 'walking in a winter wonderland'." She didnt sing but she did at least smile. She also seemed to pick up the pace at the register. So if you're in a hurry today I would recommend you sing- outloud.
The reason this is so amazing, at least to me, is that up until that moment I had been unable to truly enter into the "ho,ho,ho" of Christmas. Grief seemed to still be casting a shadow on the festivities. So when I realized that I was actually singing along and smiling I was quite pleased. I whispered a "thankyou Lord" under my breath and rejoiced that the "grey" was lifting just in time. The kids are coming home this week and I'm in charge of "ho,ho,ho" for the whole family. It's hard to be responsible for something your heart's not in it so I have been rejoicing that God is surely helping me to "get it together" for Christmas.
Isnt that just like Him! God seemed to know just what I needed for Christmas. That makes Him better than Santa. Besides God is always on the job and Santa is a merely a seasonal employee.
The next song played in the store was "I'll have a blue Christmas Without You" so I fled for the car before it did any damage to my newfound jolly. Grief has this way of sneaking up on you. You're fine one minute and the next some sound or smell will jog a memory and you're in tears. At least that's how it is for me. Three years after David's death and I still have those moments. Not as often as at first but it's still an "iffy" thing, especially during the holidays.
So, let's just say I've found my "ho,ho,ho" - well perhaps just "ho,ho". But I've decided to give myself a break. Two out of three 'hos' aint bad. It's two more than I had expected. So today, with God's help, I am wishing everyone I meet a Merry Christmas and singing along whenever I can. I've changed the radio station in the car to the "all Christmas all the time" channel and I'm getting with the 'program'.
How about you? I know it's hard so give yourself a break. Perhaps this year only one "ho" is all you can do. It's OK. God will help us through this season of Christmas and through this season of grief. He's on the job! year round! I remind myself that Christ said that He came to "heal the brokenhearted" and "trade their mourning for joy". I am so glad He came. I would hate to think how hard this would be without Him here to help me. I am celebrating His coming this Christmas. He came... for such a time as this. He came ... for me. (and for you!)
See you next Monday. We'll do the "post Christmas" review and look ahead to better days. Merry Christmas and Ho,Ho,HO! (Look at that! I do believe I may have found that third 'ho'- at least for today. YEAH!)
Karen
Coffee- check. Pink mini laptop- check. Favorite booth at the diner- check, almost. I got here late and someone is sitting in MY booth. I'm sure the one I'm in will still work so after a few gulps of coffee.... here goes.
You'll never guess what happened this week! I was finishing up the last of my shopping- now there's a funny statement. I have decided that there is no point to getting the shopping done "early" because I will continue to think of more things to pick up right up to Christmas eve. So I should really just wait until the last week to get it done. Perhaps then I would spend less. Well, perhaps. Anyways, I was at the checkout counter and the clerk was ringing up my order when she looked up at me and chuckled. It wasn't until I saw her response that I realized that I was singing along with the Christmas music being played in the store ---- OUTLOUD. It was WinterWonderland and I was singing the harmony part and kind of swaying with the music. I stopped.She stopped. Then I laughed and said to the clerk, "Come on you can sing along too, 'walking in a winter wonderland'." She didnt sing but she did at least smile. She also seemed to pick up the pace at the register. So if you're in a hurry today I would recommend you sing- outloud.
The reason this is so amazing, at least to me, is that up until that moment I had been unable to truly enter into the "ho,ho,ho" of Christmas. Grief seemed to still be casting a shadow on the festivities. So when I realized that I was actually singing along and smiling I was quite pleased. I whispered a "thankyou Lord" under my breath and rejoiced that the "grey" was lifting just in time. The kids are coming home this week and I'm in charge of "ho,ho,ho" for the whole family. It's hard to be responsible for something your heart's not in it so I have been rejoicing that God is surely helping me to "get it together" for Christmas.
Isnt that just like Him! God seemed to know just what I needed for Christmas. That makes Him better than Santa. Besides God is always on the job and Santa is a merely a seasonal employee.
The next song played in the store was "I'll have a blue Christmas Without You" so I fled for the car before it did any damage to my newfound jolly. Grief has this way of sneaking up on you. You're fine one minute and the next some sound or smell will jog a memory and you're in tears. At least that's how it is for me. Three years after David's death and I still have those moments. Not as often as at first but it's still an "iffy" thing, especially during the holidays.
So, let's just say I've found my "ho,ho,ho" - well perhaps just "ho,ho". But I've decided to give myself a break. Two out of three 'hos' aint bad. It's two more than I had expected. So today, with God's help, I am wishing everyone I meet a Merry Christmas and singing along whenever I can. I've changed the radio station in the car to the "all Christmas all the time" channel and I'm getting with the 'program'.
How about you? I know it's hard so give yourself a break. Perhaps this year only one "ho" is all you can do. It's OK. God will help us through this season of Christmas and through this season of grief. He's on the job! year round! I remind myself that Christ said that He came to "heal the brokenhearted" and "trade their mourning for joy". I am so glad He came. I would hate to think how hard this would be without Him here to help me. I am celebrating His coming this Christmas. He came... for such a time as this. He came ... for me. (and for you!)
See you next Monday. We'll do the "post Christmas" review and look ahead to better days. Merry Christmas and Ho,Ho,HO! (Look at that! I do believe I may have found that third 'ho'- at least for today. YEAH!)
Karen
Monday, December 14, 2009
Tis the Season
Well, here I am at my local diner with my coffee and my free newspaper sitting at my usual table for one. You can find me here most every Monday. The coffee is good and the paper is free. I know that makes me sound a bit like a senior citizen (which I am NOT) but it doesnt worry me enough to make me change my ways. Did I mention, the paper is free!
So I've read the news and downed two cups of coffee; I've read God's Word to get me in the right frame of mind to face the week ahead and I've turned on my lap top to spend some time with you and talk about... well what should we talk about in this, our first Monday Mourning together?
It's Christmas time. Tis the season of HO HO HO and Holly Jolly. I used to love Christmas. I would decorate everything and bake up a storm. I'd sing along with all the carols playing in every store- outloud. But these days I find the music mostly painful and don't seem to have the desire to decorate anything. The cause for this shift in mindset: GRIEF. My husband, David died of cancer 3 years ago after 26 years of marriage. I am now learning to live without my partner which I imagine feels a bit like trying to learn how to walk after losing a leg. It's doable but not preferable. But, like most events of our lives, I was not given a vote. Life happens and loss visits us all eventually. Mine just came a lot sooner than I expected.
Dont get me wrong. I still celebrate the true meaning of Christmas. I whole-heartedly express my gratitude for the birth of Christ. I am glad He was born in our world and in my heart. It's all the other stuff of Christmas that I find so difficult.
Shortly after David's death I went to a grief support group. They were pleasant enough people (as pleasant as grieving people can be at the holidays). The counselor seemed to be competent and compassionate. Then she said something that caused me to never return. I realize that is probably an extreme reaction to an isolated comment but when you're grieving you just dont have the nerves for foolishness. She said to this grief-stricken group, "It's only ONE day. Christmas is just a day and you can get through One day." It took every ounce of self control I had (another thing in short supply when you're grieving) not to jump out of my chair and shout, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Christmas is not just a day - it's a season. It starts the day after Halloween and lasts until Jan. 1st. You cant go anywhere or turn on your TV without being bombarded by "the season". I could get through a day. It's the season that's getting on my very last nerve!" And speaking of TV - if I have to listen to one more jewelry commercial where the couple fall into each other's arms and pledge they will be together...forever I'm going to SCREAM!
Do you know you cant even pump gas into your car without having to listen to those carols? Have you ever really listened to the words? Not the religous ones - I'm OK with those. It's all those secular "carols" that I find particularly brutal. There's, "I'll have a blue Christmas without You", and "I'll be home for Christmas", and my least favorite, "All I want for Christmas is You."
REally, what were those people thinking when they wrote those songs?
Tis the season! I am so thankful for the Christ of Christmas. He gives meaning and purpose to the season for me. I was reading today that familiar narrative of the first Christmas and I found a passage that has become my favorite scripture during these days. It starts off the story which seems to me to be an appropriate way for us to frame "the season". Luke 2:1 says, "And it came to pass in those days...". Jesus came in those days of oppression and poverty and taxation not to mention no indoor plumbing - and walked right into our mess - to change our mess forever. If it were not for Christ "those days" would never pass. Endless, meaningless days of loss would be all any of us could hope for. But because of Jesus and all the purpose and hope He brings into our world and into my life in particular we can face this "Monday Mourning" with the calm assurance that "it will come to pass." This season of mourning will pass just as surely as the season of HO HO HO will be replaced by a new year. And it came... to pass. Thank you Lord for the hope of brighter days. Perhaps next year I will be able to sing along with the "holly, jolly" crowd. I almost got out a HO HO HO while pumping my gas yesterday. So I will celebrate the reason for the season and look with great expectation for joyful days to come. God is good and I'm OK - most of the time. How are you doing? I'd love to hear from you- especially if, like me, your in the season of grief. Take a deep breath, give yourself a break. If you dont want to decorate or bake or sing along - it's OK. I understand. So does God. That's why He came. Tis the Season.
Karen
So I've read the news and downed two cups of coffee; I've read God's Word to get me in the right frame of mind to face the week ahead and I've turned on my lap top to spend some time with you and talk about... well what should we talk about in this, our first Monday Mourning together?
It's Christmas time. Tis the season of HO HO HO and Holly Jolly. I used to love Christmas. I would decorate everything and bake up a storm. I'd sing along with all the carols playing in every store- outloud. But these days I find the music mostly painful and don't seem to have the desire to decorate anything. The cause for this shift in mindset: GRIEF. My husband, David died of cancer 3 years ago after 26 years of marriage. I am now learning to live without my partner which I imagine feels a bit like trying to learn how to walk after losing a leg. It's doable but not preferable. But, like most events of our lives, I was not given a vote. Life happens and loss visits us all eventually. Mine just came a lot sooner than I expected.
Dont get me wrong. I still celebrate the true meaning of Christmas. I whole-heartedly express my gratitude for the birth of Christ. I am glad He was born in our world and in my heart. It's all the other stuff of Christmas that I find so difficult.
Shortly after David's death I went to a grief support group. They were pleasant enough people (as pleasant as grieving people can be at the holidays). The counselor seemed to be competent and compassionate. Then she said something that caused me to never return. I realize that is probably an extreme reaction to an isolated comment but when you're grieving you just dont have the nerves for foolishness. She said to this grief-stricken group, "It's only ONE day. Christmas is just a day and you can get through One day." It took every ounce of self control I had (another thing in short supply when you're grieving) not to jump out of my chair and shout, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Christmas is not just a day - it's a season. It starts the day after Halloween and lasts until Jan. 1st. You cant go anywhere or turn on your TV without being bombarded by "the season". I could get through a day. It's the season that's getting on my very last nerve!" And speaking of TV - if I have to listen to one more jewelry commercial where the couple fall into each other's arms and pledge they will be together...forever I'm going to SCREAM!
Do you know you cant even pump gas into your car without having to listen to those carols? Have you ever really listened to the words? Not the religous ones - I'm OK with those. It's all those secular "carols" that I find particularly brutal. There's, "I'll have a blue Christmas without You", and "I'll be home for Christmas", and my least favorite, "All I want for Christmas is You."
REally, what were those people thinking when they wrote those songs?
Tis the season! I am so thankful for the Christ of Christmas. He gives meaning and purpose to the season for me. I was reading today that familiar narrative of the first Christmas and I found a passage that has become my favorite scripture during these days. It starts off the story which seems to me to be an appropriate way for us to frame "the season". Luke 2:1 says, "And it came to pass in those days...". Jesus came in those days of oppression and poverty and taxation not to mention no indoor plumbing - and walked right into our mess - to change our mess forever. If it were not for Christ "those days" would never pass. Endless, meaningless days of loss would be all any of us could hope for. But because of Jesus and all the purpose and hope He brings into our world and into my life in particular we can face this "Monday Mourning" with the calm assurance that "it will come to pass." This season of mourning will pass just as surely as the season of HO HO HO will be replaced by a new year. And it came... to pass. Thank you Lord for the hope of brighter days. Perhaps next year I will be able to sing along with the "holly, jolly" crowd. I almost got out a HO HO HO while pumping my gas yesterday. So I will celebrate the reason for the season and look with great expectation for joyful days to come. God is good and I'm OK - most of the time. How are you doing? I'd love to hear from you- especially if, like me, your in the season of grief. Take a deep breath, give yourself a break. If you dont want to decorate or bake or sing along - it's OK. I understand. So does God. That's why He came. Tis the Season.
Karen
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