Sometimes it's a sad story

I thought my STORY to be told this year would be vastly different than the one I am telling here.  When the Lord chose "story" as one of my words for 2016, I already knew I was pregnant. In my head, my story was going to be a joyful continuation of the previous amazing year in which I met and married my hero, a man who far exceeded my wildest dreams (and yes, I am well aware that I still owe you the rest of that story.)

I had always dreamed of a large family. Michael and I said "at least" four kids--preferably six or more. When he died nearly 13 years ago, I was eight months pregnant with our second baby and thought that his death was also the death of this large-family dream.  Frankly the death of this dream took longer for me to grieve than the death of my husband, after all, I would see him again someday, but my future babies were just gone.  God had big surprises over the years. He led me to adopt Super T, temporarily provide a home for foster children, and adopt Baby Girl. Every step of the way I marveled at my minivan filling up and rejoiced in adding to my crew.  Less than two years ago God surprised me with the ultimate addition and the amazing joy of a wonderful new love. We tied the knot in November 2014, exactly a year after God began dealing with me to be open to remarriage. Amazing grace has been our theme and it is obvious that God brought us together. Life is good. We decided almost immediately to start "trying" for a baby although we knew the odds were stacked against us because of our ages. After the better part of a year, some things became obvious and we "gave up," content with the four children I brought into the marriage, but disappointed that we wouldn't have a baby together.  A positive pregnancy test in December 2015 made our eyes pop and jaws drop. We were astounded and thrilled! We nicknamed the baby BA (yes, we are fans of The A-Team and that should give you an idea or our ages and why getting pregnant was such a long-shot) and thoughts of him filled our minds and hearts with dreams vying with the logistics of a larger and older family. My most tightly held dream was "doing it all again," this time with a husband by my side.  Eleven and a half years of single motherhood left me feeling cheated of a "normal" parenting experience. I dreamed of going to parks as a family, playing games, traveling, re-reading all of our favorite picture books to BA and Baby Girl, and homeschooling the little ones together.

We told the kids before Christmas and told the grandparents and uncles on Christmas night.  There was so much shock and excitement and love. We started leaking our happy news to friends and family. We just could not contain our excitement. My belly popped out before six weeks. I guess that is typical for a third pregnancy. I relished every moment being pregnant and felt great, but with definite pregnancy symptoms. I was anticipating actually looking pregnant and wearing maternity clothes, rather than just looking like I'd enjoyed the holidays a bit too much.

On Monday January 11 the spotting started.  I didn't think much of it until Tuesday night when I realized it had been off and on for 24 hours.  I texted a friend for prayer, and I told Alan that I was going to call the midwife in the morning.  My first appointment was scheduled for the next week, but I couldn't wait to make sure everything was okay. They squeezed me in on Wednesday morning. There on the ultrasound was our tiny baby. No heartbeat. He measured just 7 weeks 3 days when he should have been 9 weeks. We were sent home to let him miscarry naturally. Within 24 hours all of my pregnancy symptoms disappeared, and on Sunday January 17, my sweet baby passed from my body. My body quickly recovered, but my heart has taken some time. It is shocking how easy it is to fake a smile and do what you need to do even in the face of heartbreak. That familiar lonely feeling of "these people don't know that my world is shattered" came back--immediately recognizable even though the last time I felt that way was 12 years ago. I was thankful we had told family and friends so early because I felt support from every side. God is good and holds us when we are weak.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Cor. 12:9

I am continuing to learn to trust Him and His plan for my life. After all, He is the potter and I am just the clay. God is the one writing my STORY.

 But now, O Lord, you are our Father;
    we are the clay, and you are our potter;
    we are all the work of your hand. Is. 64:8

I truly have no regrets. I am thankful I got pregnant and loved every minute of my all-too-brief pregnancy. I am thankful we told people. I am thankful I can share this story and relate to so many other women on this potentially lonely and often taboo grief journey. I miss my little one and grieve for him, but I do not grieve as those who have no hope. I anticipate holding BA in my arms one day in heaven. Meanwhile, I look forward through the tears to the next chapter of my story on earth.

 Those who sow in tears
    shall reap with shouts of joy!
 He who goes out weeping,
    bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
    bringing his sheaves with him. Ps. 126:5-6

Fifteen years ago today

I love my life and I am very happy, but I still miss him.  We were married for less than five years.  He has been gone for more than ten.  Today we will leave an American flag at his headstone to honor the most patriotic man I have ever known.  

I may shed a tear or two, but mostly I will enjoy my day with his children plus the two wonderful kiddos I have added since he died.  Being happy and enjoying my life doesn't mean I don't miss him with all of my heart.  It does mean that I live in the land of the living and look forward instead of backward most of the time.

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 (NIV)

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

Two months home...

Please forgive my lack of posting.  Life with four children is busy.  Life with four children including a newly adopted toddler is super-busy!

I am not allowed to post pictures of Baby Girl's cute face until her adoption in finalized, so you'll have to be content with looking at the back of her head for a while.

Baby Girl has been home for two months now.  I wish I could say that everything has been completely rosy and that the transition was seamless, but I can't.  What I can say is that things are really good now and we are getting into a routine and I think the hardest parts of the transition are behind us.

The reality is that adoption is HARD.  Even when things go better than expected it is hard.  After all, you are bringing a new person into your family.  A new person that you love in pictures, but who you don't really know.  A new person that has no clue who you are or if they should trust you.  A new person who has experienced complete loss of everything familiar.

We had a lovely two week "honeymoon" with Baby Girl.  That was fortunate because we all got sick with a cold and it was Christmas and I was on a steep tube-feeding learning curve, so that two week period was pretty stressful even while "honeymooning."

Little Pud helped Baby Girl open her gifts on Christmas morning.

During that time Baby Girl thought life was a party.  She was funny, silly, slept like a champ, and I thought we had it made in the shade.  I knew she wasn't really bonding to me yet, but she liked me and didn't resist physical affection, in fact, she welcomed it.

Baby Girl and Super-T enjoyed their mega-blocks on Christmas.  It was the first time they played together.

Then the rug was pulled out.  Baby Girl got a low-grade fever and her cold got worse.  All of a sudden it was like she realized that she wasn't in her familiar surroundings and she cried and she Cried and she CRIED.  And she slept and she Slept and she SLEPT.  The sleeping was fortunate because it gave a break in the crying.  I did my best trying to help her feel better and trying to comfort her, but she would not be comforted much of the time.  After a few days I knew she was feeling better but she was still crying.  Finally I realized that it was grief.

If you have never seen a two year old grieve from the depths of her soul, be thankful.  It is a very painful experience.  On the other hand, if you have adopted a two year old, you want them to grieve.  As painful as it was, it was very good that she deal with her emotions.  I ended up making a stressed-out after-hours call to our adoption worker.  She was able to see us the next day and gave me great advice about facilitating Baby Girl's grief.  That day was the turning point.  We ended up watching Baby Girl's life video and the video that was made to introduce her to us after final matching approval several times.  The first time Baby Girl sobbed and SOBBED and reached out to her caregivers and friends in the video.  Absolutely heartrending.  By the third day we watched the video, Baby Girl smiled while watching and reached out as if to hug her caregiver, but there were no more tears.

Since that time, Baby Girl has been crying appropriately, but not incessantly.  She also has been sleeping appropriately (11-12 hours at night and usually a 1.5-2 hour nap) instead of sleeping 13 hours at night and taking two to three naps during the day.  It turns out, sleeping was a coping mechanism for her (one that likely saved my sanity...I have a new respect for moms of colicky babies).  Most of all, Baby Girl is BONDING with me, actually with all of us.  Her attachment (the single most important thing in adoption) is going really well and I am THRILLED!

We have now begun to discover the nuances of Baby Girl's personality and are really getting to know her. And we are learning to love each other.

She is funny and smart.  She loves books, music, and tickling.

We have LOTS of books!

She can be oppositional but is a fast learner.  She loves the sandbox, the great outdoors, and all of our pets.

Yippee for a warm day to play outside!

 Baby Girl is a perfect fit for our family and I am so thankful! 

Failed attempts at family pictures can be good ones for the blog.

Forty-two and scattered

Yesterday was my birthday, however I am not going to blame the scattered nature of this post on my age (as far as I am concerned forty-two is still very young.)  I am going to blame it on the excited anticipation of happy news within the next week.  I have many lists going and much to do and the High Court Order isn't here yet, but it really looks like Baby Girl will be home for Christmas.  I am so excited!!!!  In light of that fact I though I'd do a catch-all post about several things because time will be even scarcer than normal soon (and I'm not exactly known for frequent posting under the best of circumstances.)

First, a reminder.  I am a widow and I lead a young widows' group at my church.  Being this close to so many losses really reminds me of how the holidays are not always happy times for everyone.  Please take a moment to remember and pray for those for whom Thanksgiving and Christmas are just two more huge reminders of loss and loneliness.  My friend Heather wrote beautifully and briefly about this first holiday season without her mom.  I highly recommend it to get a personal perspective on holidays and loss.  Maybe you have a friend who lost a parent, a spouse, a child, or significant other.  Make some time this holiday season to care about them and their pain.

Next up:  now is the time to support Reece's Rainbow's Angel Tree.  Yesterday the kids and I chose our Christmas angels and donated to them.  There is a button over on the right of my blog or use the link above to donate to your own angel.  This grant money will help their family bring them home.  Maybe one of these angels is supposed to be your son or daughter!  What they need most is a family!

Widows and orphans.  My themes.

If you would rather donate to deserving orphans AND have a chance at a fabulous giveaway go visit The Wannderers.  My friend Stori has a wonderful giveaway going on to support her Angel Tree baby and two older orphans, including my sweetie Suzanne, who I have mentioned a number of times on this blog.  Even if you are choosing another angel baby, go to Stori's blog to see the effects of institutionalization on these orphans with Down syndrome.  Heartbreaking.

Sweet Suzanne, where is your mommy?

Now on to happier thoughts, and why I advocate for orphans...last year at this time Super-T officially and legally became a member of our family.  Here was my birthday post from last year.

Super-T banged the judges gavel on the microphone.
Good thing the papers were already signed.  Ha! Ha!

One final super-happy thought!  Last year I was advocating for one specific little girl, "Jovie" on the Angel Tree.  I set up a separate blog called Joy Down in My Heart for that.  Early in the Angel Tree, Jovie was place on the "My Family Found Me" page.  

I am THRILLED to announce that sweet "Jovie" is now home with her new family!!!    

They just got home last week!  How do I know?  Because Jovie and Baby Girl were in the same orphanage.

The place is emptying out!!!

Baby Girl, mommy is coming SOON!!!

It is so exciting to see God putting families together! 

Won't you say "yes" to whatever "yes" He has for you?  

It could be adopting.

It could be sponsoring.
It could be encouraging those who are adopting.

It could be bringing a meal to a family who just brought their little one home.
 Won't you say "yes" to whatever "yes" He has for you?

A joyous blessing instead of mourning

Isaiah 61:3 (New Living Translation)

 

To all who mourn in Israel,

he will give a crown of beauty for ashes,

a joyous blessing instead of mourning,

festive praise instead of despair.

In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks

that the Lord has planted for his own glory.

I had a lengthy blog post planned for today, but my usual verbosity will have to wait.   I have heard that a picture is worth a thousand words, but I've never quite believed it.  Today, pictures plus a few words will have to do.

To give a bit of context (and because happy pictures are better than the kind that follow):

Wedding day July 4, 1998

Yes, we jumped into the pool in our wedding clothes.

Our last Christmas together.  I was pregnant with Little Pud.

Today is the ninth anniversary of the worst day of my life.
 

Graveside service April 14, 2003

Today is also the second birthday of a sweet Baby Girl.

Truly a joyous blessing instead of mourning.  

I am thankful.

Widows and Orphans

Tonight my church's widow ministry (specifically targeted to young widows) will have our first meeting.  I am privileged to lead this group as we learn that we are not on this journey alone.

Our theme verse is Psalm 68:5-6.  This verse has been near-and-dear to my heart for several years (as evidenced by the faded and water-spotted handwritten 3x5 card next to my bathroom mirror). 

It reflects God's heart for widows and for the fatherless.   This morning I looked up Ps. 68:5-6 in almost every version offered by Bible Gateway.  Below are some of my favorites.  


New International Version:
A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
   is God in his holy dwelling.
God sets the lonely in families,
   he leads out the prisoners with singing;
   but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.


New International Reader's Version:
God is in his holy temple.
      He is a father to those whose fathers have died.
      He takes care of women whose husbands have died.
  God gives lonely people a family.
      He sets prisoners free, and they go out singing.
   But those who refuse to obey him
      live in a land that is baked by the sun.


Holman Christian Standard Bible:
God in His holy dwelling is
a father of the fatherless
and a champion of widows.
God provides homes for those who are deserted.
He leads out the prisoners to prosperity,
but the rebellious live in a scorched land.


New Living Translation:
 Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—
      this is God, whose dwelling is holy.
  God places the lonely in families;
      he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.
   But he makes the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.


New Century Version:
God is in his holy Temple.
       He is a father to orphans,
       and he defends the widows.
  God gives the lonely a home.
       He leads prisoners out with joy,
       but those who turn against God will live in a dry land.


Which version speaks to you?

FB Note from March 10, 2011: Goodbye Tex: Grief Revisited

This is the final post in my series of Facebook "notes" I am transferring to my blog. If you are interested in seeing them all, click the "Facebook" label. I am mostly doing this so I will have all this information in one place. I may get up the energy later to post some of the comments to this post that included stories about Tex (again this is mostly for my own kids in the future.) Next week I have thoughts and plans for new education posts, so stay tuned!

Warning: This is a long note written mostly so I won't forget the stories to tell my kids, but I thought a few of you who were part of this history might enjoy it. I have been thinking about Tex and his life the last few days because I knew the end was near. I want to write this down while I have the motivation. Don't feel like you have to read it at all or skip straight to the end to read some of my views on grief.

All my life I have been an animal lover. My dad (who has many other wonderful qualities) doesn't quite share those sentiments, so I only had a few brief interludes with pets in childhood, and "my" dog at my grandpa's house four hours away. When a pet fell into my lap in my young adulthood, I jumped at it (and have been collecting critters ever since).

In June (or was it July?) of 1996 I took a trip to see my good friend in rural east Texas. While there we found a stray calico cat with five tiny kittens living in their only-used-for-storage old barn. The solution was obvious. My friend took her pick then I had mine. We found homes for the rest of the kittens and the momma cat. I drove the 5 hours home with a little orange and white ball of fluff snuggled on my lap. The whole way home I was busy thinking of names. I favored math names like Euclid or Isosceles (the cat had a triangle of orange around his nose.) Once home I sprung my pet on my parents. I was living with them after college while I was teaching high school math. My dad said he should be called Tex. My mom and I agreed that my best chance to keep my happy home and my kitten was to use dad's name for him, so Tex he was.

Tex was a lively funny kitten. Everyone should have a kitten at least once in their life. There is nothing like it. I gave Tex a stuffed armadillo that was bigger than himself. He loved Mr. Armadillo. Tex would chase me around and play. He would go outside and climb trees. My brother, who was also living at home at the time, loved playing rough and teasing Tex. I think Tex enjoyed it, too. Tex treated each member of the family differently. He especially loved my mom, and, right up until almost the end, if she came over he would assume she came over to see him and demand to be petted.

Tex was with me for almost 15 years and through 8 moves. He was the constant while I brought one big person and 3 little ones into our lives and while 7 other pets entered our lives and 5 of those pets left. He has been with me for over one third of my whole life and 80% of my adult life. He was mine while I was a single career-woman. He was with me when I got my first apartment alone (and got a snake Tangle). He was there through my engagement and marriage (without the snake--Michael liked Tex, but said the snake had to go). He moved out East and then back to the plains with my husband and I, although he HATED riding in the car. He coped with a new dog Ranger and a new kitten Ollie out east. He grew to love Ollie (as did Ranger and the rest of us), and a year or two later grieved Ollie's untimely death, sadly searching the house for his friend. When we finally had to give Ranger away a couple years later, Tex rejoiced and became the proud lord of his domain that he had been before the hated dog arrived. Soon we got him another cat friend, Tripod. Shortly after Tripod came home, Michael died. Tex was always there for me to pet and talk to and cry with. A few years later when we moved to the house we are in now, we got a dog Thunder. Thunder had fun chasing the cats until they discovered that they could bully him (thanks to a stray who claimed our home and who was the best cat with the kids...we miss you, too, Oreo). A couple of years ago I made a promise to Tex, not to bring any more pets into our lives until he was gone. It had just gotten too stressful for him. He was turning into an old cat, a grumpy old man with the other pets (but oddly friendlier with his family). He never really liked Oreo and thought Thunder was the cause of all evil. (And in case you are counting pets, there was also LOTL's baby turtle Red-Ear a few years ago, who died an unfortunate death, but Tex didn't really interact with him beyond the occasional sniff.)

Tex has always been there for the kids. He never liked the kids particularly; he knew about kids and would usually run and hide when we had guest kids, but he was very protective of His kids. If Little Pud cried, it was obviously someones fault, and in the last 5 years, that someone was Thunder. Poor Thunder has taken the brunt of Tex's wrath hundreds of times. Fortunately for Thunder, Tex was front-claw declawed. As much as he would hide from child-guests, Tex loved adult guests, usually coming out and asking to be petted. Everyone thought he was "friendly" in spite of his overall grouchy disposition with the family. (I say that with love, I loved my grouchy cat, even though he would bite to tell me he was "done" being petted, and he actually got overall friendlier as he aged.)

Tex was the smartest cat I have ever personally known. He was an indoor-outdoor cat, but was all about his own comfort, so was only outdoors when the weather was great--not too hot or two cold and certainly not if it was rainy. He spend two or three days last week basking in the springtime sun in our front yard [remember this was originally written in March...last week in real time was HOT.] I never worried about him (well, at least not after the first year or two). He always knew exactly where he was and what to do and where I was and where home was and to get out of the way of cars. (I never let him outside in a couple of our houses/apartments that were in too busy areas, but anywhere that it was a possibility he got to go out and he LOVED it.) He also protected the front yard from strange dogs. Often he would chase off the neighbor's schnauzer and occasionally bigger stray dogs. He didn't realize that he was smaller than all of the dogs he chased away or that traditionally the dogs chase the cats. If I was outside gardening or playing with the kids, he would follow me around, jumping the fence if he needed to (although preferring to wait for the gate to be opened for him as he aged, which we usually did for him.) If we were next door at my parent's house he would wait on their porch (or sometimes go in to visit them, since even dad liked Tex by this time.)

One thing he did NOT do was catch mice, that is until Dec. 5, 2010 (yes, just 3 months ago!) I posted this status after Tex caught his first mouse:

You may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but apparently cats don't follow this rule. My 14 1/2 year old cat Tex, who I have had since he was tiny tiny, caught his first mouse yesterday! I have noticed him watching Tripod, the good mouser, lately. I was truly amazed (a little grossed out, but amazed.)

December 6, 2010 at 1:01pm

Tex died March 10 in the wee hours of the morning. We had all said our goodbyes and cried lots of tears (well, the boys didn't cry, but Little Pud and I did.) Today we will have a brief service for Tex, cry some more tears, and tell some stories about him.

I have some views about grief, and one of them is that losing a pet is one way children can learn about death and how to grieve. In an ideal world, children would experience death first through pets, then the loss of very elderly neighbors or distant family members--and we as parents would take these opportunities to help them understand the value of life, how human life is different from animal life (as precious as the animals are to us), and how to grieve, so they will be more prepared for the bigger losses later in life. Obviously we don't live in an ideal world. My own children's first loss was their father--or in Super T's case, his whole birth family. Many children are never taught how to grieve or encouraged to grieve and may only witness death on tv (in a very removed environment where the actor is not really dead, giving death an unreal quality.) Yesterday (as we knew this was coming) and today I have encouraged each of the kids to express their grief their own way. Little Pud tends to wail and be dramatic, LOTL is quieter and thoughtful. Both are okay. Super T doesn't really understand and never paid much attention to Tex at all (although he loves Tripod.) Losing a pet, although so so sad, is not the same as losing a person. It is however, losing a big part of your life, and the grief process is similar. Tex will be sorely missed, but I am happy for the good memories I have and the almost 15 years we had together.

Grief

An unfortunate number of my friends are going through deep and profound grief right now. My heart hurts for them and I pray for them often and seriously. I know, however, that ultimately their grief journey is up to them. If you are in a time of grief, I would encourage you to find a verse that speaks to you (ask God to show you one) and hang on to that. Read it and reread it. Over and over and over. Daily and maybe even hourly. It will soak in. For many months it felt like my life depended on Jer. 29:4-14. I read this passage every day (often multiple times a day) and related to it because I felt like an exile. Those words were life to me and one of the main reasons I have a successful grief story. Later I did a study about widows in the Bible and some of the scriptures I found are listed below, along with some other scriptures that may help you in grief. I would encourage you to find a verse that speaks to YOU. It may be different than one that speaks to me or someone else. Words are so inadequate at a time like this, but The Word is not.

Scriptures for grief:

Psalm 23

Psalm 42

Psalm 56

Ps. 147:3

Is. 57:18

Matt. 5:4

Matt. 11:28-30

John 14:1-4, 16-18, 26-30

I Cor. 12:9-10

*I Thess. 4:13-18*

Heb. 4:14-16

Rev. 21:1-4

Widow Stories:

Gen. 38

1 Kings 7:13-14 (story of the son of a widow)

1 Kings 11:26,28 (story of the son of a widow)

1 Kings 17

Ruth

Mark 12:41-44 & Luke 21:1-4

Luke 2:36-38

Luke 7:12-15

Encouragement for widows:

Ex. 22:22-24

Deut. 10:17-18

Deut. 14:28-29

Deut. 16:11,14

Deut. 24:17

Deut. 24:19-21

Deut. 26:12-13

Deut. 27:19

Ps. 10:18

Ps. 68:5-6

Ps. 82:3-4

Ps. 94

Ps. 146:9

Prov. 15:25

Prov. 23:10-11

Is. 1:17

Is. 10:1-2

Is. 54:4-5

Jer. 7:6-7

Jer. 22:3

Jer. 49:11

Zech. 7:9-10

Mal. 3:5

Matt. 23:14

Mark 12:41-44

Luke 20:45-47

James 1:26-27

[This post was originally published as a Facebook note on Aug. 18, 2010.]

FB Note from Sept 13, 2009: My story...Part 3b

I admit it. I yelled at the doctor. "YOU MEAN I AM 8 MONTHS PREGNANT; I HAVE A TODDLER; AND AM A WIDOW??!?!?" The poor doc. He had tried so hard. Michael and he were the same age, and he was visibly shaken by the whole thing. My mom and I went in to see the body. Michael was not there, just his shell, but it was a precious shell. One I loved.

I remember three main things about the minutes following this: 1.) the single worst moment of my life: when I had to call my father and mother-in-law to tell them their son was dead; 2.) the HUGE outpouring of love from friends--showing up when I needed them most; and 3.) the DECISION I made then and there in that emergency room to NOT let the devil win and to anticipate God's good plans for my life and the lives of my children.

The next days, weeks, months were not easy by any standard. I remember and appreciate the friends, family, and complete strangers who helped me out. I felt like I had been put on the fast-track to learn to trust in God. Suddenly my self-sufficiency was no where to be found. I learned to accept help, to accept gifts, to accept people asking me all kinds of personal questions. In today's world these are all difficult things to do. They make you vulnerable. But I saw amazing things happen: I got out of debt (a MIRACLE!); I reconnected with friends I hadn't talked to in years (and found that some of them had shared deep grief also); I developed sympathy for every person going through a tough time, realizing that for them, it meant everything even if their loss paled in comparison to mine; I saw the walls that kept me a "very private person" crumble; I learned just how much control I have over my thoughts and therefore my emotions.

Grief. If there is anything I have learned in the past few years, it is how different people grieve differently. I think that is necessary and good. There should not be a timeline. But by God's grace (and I do mean that; it is not just an expression), He helped me through my grief and I learned some principles that are useful in many areas of life. First: Don't run from it. Relive the memories. Cry about the things you miss. It is okay to be sad. Second: Don't wallow. There is a difference between grieving and wallowing and I could usually tell when I slipped into the "feeling sorry for myself" mode. I learned to take my thoughts captive and just not go there. Third: Fill your mind with the good as much as possible. I spent months listening to Keith Green music. Unlike almost everyone I know, I typically prefer listening to talking or silence as opposed to music, but not during this season of my life. The music really helped (it was Michael's favorite.)

God led me to a verse for this season of my life. Many people are familiar with Jeremiah 29:11, but my verses were Jer. 29:4-7.

Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon, 'Build houses and live in them; and plant gardens, and eat their produce. Take wives and becomes the fathers of sons and daughters, and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, that they may bear sons and daughters; and multiply there and do not decrease. And seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf; for in its welfare you will have welfare.'

I read this every day for months. I felt like an exile. Like all I had planned in my life had come crashing down. I missed my best friend. As these words sank in, I found direction to live my life. I needed to continue living: play with my children, teach them, cook, garden, clean house. Michael was not coming back, but I would see him one day. One day I will no longer be an exile, but will go to my true Home. Michael is there and is more truly himself now than he ever was here on earth. I look forward to seeing him that fine day; but oh, so much more than that, I look forward to seeing my Jesus, face to face.