No More Numbness ~ Part 2

Posted Mar 19, 2010 (11 months into widowhood)

In spite of all I shared in my last post, I have continued to feel the Lord’s presence, especially during my devotional time. The Lord’s faithfulness has not lessened in any way. God’s Word never promised happiness or pain-free days. His promise is always to walk with us in each and every circumstance...and He does, as we look to Him for comfort. The grief overflows each morning as I read the Carepage entry and relive those painful days from last year, one by one. The pain is intense, but I’m one day closer to being well again.

If I am ever in your presence and you notice glassy or tear filled eyes, please never feel uncomfortable or at a loss as to what you should say. Words are rarely necessary or even helpful sometimes, but a caring touch, or an invitation into the open arms of a friend is more powerful and healing than you can comprehend.

I am seeking the Lord for wisdom, to know if I should just let the mourning process take its natural course; which is my inclination, with the thought that starting the medication again might only serve to prolong the process. It is my heart’s desire to be whole, healthy and healing emotionally. It is my turn to take “baby steps” pushing me in the direction of wellness, day by day. I know my heart will not always be broken. I can continue to make the choice to choose whatever JOY the Lord has for me today. In the meantime, I feel it is healthy to let the pain out; a necessary part of the healing process. The Lord knows about and records each tear. Tears are a gift!

I have heard a saying lately: “Pain is inevitable, however, misery is optional”. Many of us have our own variety of brokenness. It comes in many shapes and forms. My prayer for you is that you will let the Lord help you also, to rise above your brokenness with His strength and His ever-present, never-ending, unchangeable love for you!

It is amazing to me, how therapeutic and helpful it is to write this journal. I started out feeling shaky and broken, but as I went on, I felt stronger and encouraged. Our God is so good! Thanking God for the gorgeous, sunshiny days lately. Just choosing to enjoy them in my pajamas and holey socks (see my last entry ~ Hairbrushes And Holey Socks)! My love to all of you!

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You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in Your record? Psalm56: 8

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27: 13-14

No More Numbness ~Part 1

Posted Mar 19, 2010 (11 months into widowhood)

During Buck’s illness, I called my family doctor to request several medications for myself: one to help me sleep and one for depression, so I could be my best in order to be able to encourage my sweetheart. God provided amazing emotional strength during our journey, but I was weary and not holding up like I needed; desiring to be my Bofren’s cheerleading captain. I continued to use both of these medications until recently. After my weekend stay in the hospital in early December, (due to my strange visual disturbance), I was required to make a follow-up visit to my family doctor. I asked if perhaps we could change my depression medicine, because it didn’t seem to be working as well as it did at first. He thought that Seasonal Affective Disorder might also be playing a part in my condition. He recommended that I double the dosage instead. That made me so jittery, I couldn’t stand it, so I tried one and a half as an alternative. I gave the increased dosage a couple months to do its job, but never experienced any improvement.

I don’t know if it was my own thinking or inspiration from the Lord, but I made a decision to stop taking the depression medicine. I needed to know how I would function med- free and I wanted to know if some of my symptoms, such as fatigue and lack of motivation, were side effects from the drug. About six weeks ago, I called my family doctor for instructions on how to wean myself from the medication. It has been about ten days since I finished the weaning process…and I am an emotional mess, (in my opinion anyway)! I spoke to a counselor friend a few weeks ago, about my decision and she said the depression medications often numb the emotions. I realize now, that I just thought I was dealing with my grief, when in reality, I wasn’t feeling a great portion of it. I had frequent periods of sadness of course, but they were almost always attached to a trigger of some kind; sometimes tangible things and personal belongings… sometimes memories. Photos and music always had the most powerful effect and even more so now after eleven months of Buck’s absence. With no numbness or buffer to shield my heart, the full impact has finally hit home and I feel very sensitive emotionally.

I feel as though I have taken a giant step backwards, because I am finding myself in “pajama days” mode once again, and now my morning devotional time is the most painful, tear-filled part of the day, with daily “ugly cries” and noon finds me drained and emotionally exhausted. My stuffed bear: “Critter”,  gets plenty of use on a daily basis as my tear sponge and today I started wearing my towel around my neck again. In my Griefshare support group, we discussed the fact that it often takes six months to a year for our hearts to catch up to our minds, to adjust to the true reality of the loss of a loved one. Intellectually, we know immediately; emotionally, grace cushions our hearts until we can fully take it all in! We also talked about the fact that the second year is often more painful than the first. I was hopeful that I might escape that phenomenon, but it appears I will be no different.

Hair Brushes And Holey Socks

Posted March 10, 2010 (11 months into widowhood)

Many years ago, while in my mother’s basement, I noticed a piece of very deteriorated lace. It was a remnant of what was once a beautiful Victorian wedding dress. It looked more like a shredded, discolored rag than a representation of a special, memorable day. The wedding dress had belonged to my grandmother. The ragged piece of lace was one of the very few things, which my mom had to remember her mother by, because my grandmother passed away when my mom was only five years old. When I made this discovery, I couldn’t understand why anyone would hold onto something that was in such poor, irrepairable condition. Now, I have more compassion for my precious mother’s inability to let go of this sad relic.

When I first brought Buck’s belongings home from York Hospital, I could not bring myself to clean his hairbrush or discard his toothbrush that had stood like a lonely soldier in the stand on his vanity. After a few months, I put his toothbrush out of sight and even now his hairbrush is tucked away, still holding the strands of his hair that I can’t part with. I don’t understand it, but to do so, feels like I’m throwing away a part of him. In my mind, I know how ridiculous that sounds, but my heart won’t permit it! I feel sad every time I have to open a drawer that holds something that belonged to Buck. I know the time will come, when my heart will be healed enough to let go. I never anticipated that something so small would be so difficult.

If you have been following my journal very long, you already know that Buck and I were hikers; even on our first date, when we explored the trails at Skyline Drive. Hiking was our favorite form of recreation, both locally and whenever we went on vacations. Our vacations most often revolved around our hiking adventures in Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. I shared that Buck hiked nearly all of Vermont’s Appalachian Trail (AT) miles and it was his dream to hike the entire trail, after he was fully retired.

One summer, we visited Maine to check out the Katahdin end of the AT: the southbound starting point or the northbound through hikers final destination and lofty goal. My Bofren loved to share the memory about the year he neglected to remember my birthday and made me climb Mt. Katahdin on that scorching August day. It was a grueling hike and I confess, my feelings were hurt; but I never let on and did my best to maintain a pleasant attitude in spite of his oversight. He was so excited to be there! I think I did a pretty good job of covering over my disappointment, although I really wasn’t sharing his enthusiasm! 

Several days later, Buck drove to the nearest phone booth (pre-cell phone days) to call his daughter. As they were ending their conversation, Jessi told her dad to wish me a happy birthday for her. As he approached the screen room that protected our picnic table area from the local insects, he stood on the outside and hung his head. With his sheepish grin, he asked: “So, am I in the doghouse?”  I laughed at him and told him I was wondering how long it might take him to remember! He promised to make it up to me and he did. He also made a vow to never again plan a vacation that would include my birthday. I didn’t hold him to that one.

During a shopping trip to a recreational outfitters store, Buck decided to buy two pairs of outrageously expensive hiking socks. My thought was: at that price they better last forever; surely there were pure threads of gold woven throughout! I understood the necessity of having them for the purpose of making his hiking or hunting adventures more comfortable, but I didn’t understand when he would wear them to work and for everyday use. Just like any other socks, these too wore out. I found his holey socks in the beginning of winter and as you may have already guessed; I couldn’t part with them either. Even though they are too big for me, they have become my favorite slippers…I’m wearing them right now. They look ridiculous and I don’t care! They are another unexpected source of comfort to me.

I know these attachments won’t last forever, but for now I am enjoying the memories that they hold and the comfort they provide. It’s okay if some don’t understand. There was a time when I wasn’t able to comprehend such a silly notion. It’s hard to predict how things might affect a person who is grieving the loss of a loved one. Sometimes lessons in compassion are learned the hard way. Nevertheless, my heart and my cold feet appreciate my Bofren’s holey socks.

There is no timeline or urgency in dealing with all of his belongings. For now, I choose not to deal with it. There are too many other more important issues to consider. I know God will help me when the time is right.

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, … a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, …a time to keep and a time to throw away. Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, 4, 6

Humor Is Healing

In looking back over the months since I have been a widow, I have thought about the things that have brought healing to my broken heart. In addition to the important role my family and friends have played; humor quickly comes to mind. Most often it is delivered through my grandchildren, namely through my five year old grandson, Colin.

After returning from Buck's funeral in West Virginia, I stayed with my daughter, Sarah, and her family for two and a half weeks. Just being surrounded by all that love and the distractions provided by my family and grandchildren were very helpful. My then, 13 year old grandson, Justin, had given up his bedroom for my use during my stay there. Upon waking one morning, I made my way to the bedroom door, just as Sarah was also coming out of her bedroom with five month old Kyrstin in her arms. As our eyes met, my knees buckled and Sarah raced to support me, and guided me back to Justin's bed. I was weeping, in the throes of deep grief, and Sarah and my grandchildren all climbed in bed with me to comfort me. Colin, who was three years old then, studied my display of emotion and didn't understand why Nana was crying. In his little mind, he assumed I must not be feeling well and urgently recommended: " NANA, IF YOU HAVE TO THROW UP, RUN TO THE BATHROOM!"

Colin had his face painted at the circus and was being his silly, animated self for the camera!

Needless to say, the tears of grief immediately turned to tears of laughter and we all laughed till our stomachs hurt. Even now, if I'm struggling emotionally, Sarah, Bob, (my son-in-law), or Justin might get the laughter ball rolling again by simply saying: NANA! in that same urgent tone and the abundant laughter and smiles return.

Colin is often our comic relief, even without trying. He is just a funny character, whose personality is just what I need at that moment. He loves to dress up in costumes and often makes up his own, showing up in ridiculous combinations of everyday clothes . I am inspired to giggle just by his addition of a pair of yellow rubber gloves that I gave him during one of my visits. He wore them to bed one night recently. Watching him, decked out in his jammies and my gloves as we read a bedtime story, attacks my funny bone every time! Justin is also an expert at making Nana laugh. Sometimes, he has no mercy, but I love every minute!

Two versions of one of my favorite verses from the Bible states: A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones (NIV). The Message, a paraphrased translation of the Bible says: A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone tired. (Proverbs 17:22) Although I have experienced much sadness since my sweetheart was called home, I am so very thankful for the accumulative gift of laughter and the many, abundant sources of joy that God has placed in my life!

Sanctuary

A  painting I did of a favorite camping spot in Vermont helps set a tranquil mood in my sanctuary . 

Posted Mar 4, 2010 (Ten months into widowhood)
Since Buck’s home going, I have been using his favorite Bible. It's a New International Version of The Hebrew-Greek Key Study Bible, which was my gift to him on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday. He chose it himself and I had the burgundy leather cover inscribed with his name. He cherished this gift from his Girfren and referred to it (and any Bible he has owned), as his map. I use it each day during my devotional time. Reading the Bible that my sweetheart had used almost exclusively for the past ten years has brought me comfort, because using it makes me feel like my Bofren is still with me, teaching me what was important to him. Like myself, Buck liked to underline and highlight passages that were meaningful to him. Leaving his marks on it as he did created a precious memento and tangible symbol to commemorate his love for his Lord and was indicative of the personal relationship he had with him. Buck left behind one of his most prized possessions and now I benefit from the time he spent within its’ pages! So, needless to say, it is a personal treasure to me, especially when I come across a note in his handwriting!

The void and brokenness that Buck’s absence has created is bigger than any family member or friend can fix, although they do a great job of comforting me whenever I am with them. However, the Lord is filling the gigantic hole in my heart with Himself. He accomplishes this most often, by a sensing of His Presence during my devotional time each morning. So frequently, I feel as though the subject I am reading about, was tailored just for me, so much so that it makes me weep, as the realization strikes me that the God who created the universe knows what I’m feeling and provides just the words of encouragement I need to hear. This has become my favorite part of the day!

Very rarely does a day go by that I don’t sense the Lord speaking directly to me through His Word or through one of the devotionals I’m reading. Never before have I experienced His love and grace like now; but then again, never have I dedicated and set aside this special time to give Him or myself the opportunity to communicate so intimately. I have been greatly blessed by this new discipline and the harvest of spiritual growth that this special time together has yielded. I think this is a season of special grace that the Lord is showering upon me right now as I walk closely with Him as a widow.

I have chosen my bedroom as my place to meet with the Lord each morning, and before I go to sleep at the end of my day. I think of it as my own personal sanctuary. The dictionary defines sanctuary as a sacred place or holy place of refuge. Some synonyms would include comforting words such as: protection, haven, retreat, and a shelter from danger or hardship. Buck’s side of the bed now houses his Bible, my collection of devotionals and my daily journal. The atmosphere is very calming and soothing as my room still has white primed walls and my bedspread and curtains are my favorite shade of blue. My newly named stuffed bear, Critter, lives at the center of the head of my bed, within reach to comfort me whenever the tears come.

At the head of my bed hangs a painting I did about five years ago of a special spot in our favorite campgrounds in Vermont. When I’m sitting in my bed, I face a much-loved wedding gift. It is a piece of artwork, a print of a drawing of Jesus holding a lamb, snuggling contentedly on His shoulder. Whenever I’m struggling emotionally, I like to think of myself as the lamb in the Lord’s arms and my Peace is restored once again. I am so thankful for the peaceful setting the Lord and my Bofren provided for me. It is truly a haven of rest!

A World Of White Winter Waves

I was saving this reposting for a snowy, wintery day, but it never happened. I was very thankful that the "blizzard  conditions" that were predicted last week never materialized. Since spring is just around the corner, I decided to send this out, before the first day of spring arrives next week. This was my most challenging winter weather event since Buck's home-going. It took place the first winter after his passing. It is another story of God's faithfulness.

                                                                            

Wintery view from the back of my home

Posted Feb 8, 2010 (Ten months into widowhood)

As I sip from my hummingbird mug full of hot coffee, milk and a generous sprinkling of Swiss Miss hot cocoa mix (who needs Starbucks?), I enjoy my homemade gourmet beverage and contemplate the beauty of the season. As an adult, I find encounters of a snowy kind to be a challenging love-hate relationship. Buck had no problem dealing with the elements, being the rugged outdoorsman that he was. In fact, I think he enjoyed the challenge and adventure of it all. It also gave him the opportunity to help other people who couldn’t or shouldn’t be moving snow around. He had a huge servant’s heart and few things made him happier!

But now, snow removal is my responsibility and thankfully, God had mercy on me and gave me wonderful neighbors to help me when the storms come. On Saturday afternoon, my neighbor, Mark, plowed my driveway with his Bobcat, and taught me how to use my snow blower. Mark was very patient with me and stayed until I had the hang of how to operate it. Maybe I’ll be a little more self-sufficient, when the next snow arrives. I thought it was kind of fun, aside from getting a frozen face and hands. I finished up just as the sun was setting and stopped long enough to take some pictures of the awesome, unique snowdrifts in my yard.        

You might remember that my Bofren described me as “being like a cat…loves staying close to home”. Yes, that would be me. Cold winter weather makes me want to stay inside and hug the stove (figuratively), and drink lots of hot liquids. On one hand, I hate being cold and I’m not fond of all the extra work a snowstorm generates. Nevertheless, I can't overlook the amazing beauty that a significant snowfall produces!

As I reflect upon the ocean of white that surrounds me, I ponder the sheer raw beauty and aesthetic value. This kind of setting grabbed my attention, long before I understood what the word aesthetics meant. I recall how, even as a little girl, a fresh covering of snow would fascinate me. Just like other children, I looked forward to all the fun we would have sledding, creating snowmen and building snow forts and igloos, but even then, there was a part of me that didn’t want to break the new layer of snow. That part of me has never grown up, as I will still go out of my way to keep my environment as intact and unbroken as possible.

I never realized just how important this is to me until just before the pending storm was due to arrive. As the dark clouds gathered, I noticed a task I had ignored for a couple weeks. While being away from home, we must have had a very windy day, which yielded lots of branches on my lawn and in my driveway. As it started to snow, I decided I needed to pick them up or my view would be spoiled, if there were branches sticking up out of the snow everywhere. Of course, I’m feeling pretty silly now, as obviously no limbs would have shown through, but I wasn’t willing to take that chance. Funny, the things that motivate me!

As I observe this winter wonderland, I question what is it that is so appealing about an undisturbed blanket of snow? Many descriptive words come to mind: lovely, pure, pristine, perfect, peaceful, unspoiled, fresh, tranquil, newness, seamless; covering over everything undesirable and ugly. It occurred to me that this is also a beautiful word picture for how our Heavenly Father sees us, when we make the decision to accept His precious Son, Jesus, as our Lord and Savior. In so doing, we acknowledge that we know we all have a history of wrong doing, short coming and sin.

I once heard sin defined as missing the mark, such as the bull’s eye on a target. The target that all of us miss is our Heavenly Father’s standard of perfection. His holiness cannot tolerate sin. That’s why His amazing love for us cost Him the life of His Son, who was the only sinless person who could pay the price for our sin and was willing to sacrifice His life to do so. That’s what salvation is: a gift from God that we can accept or reject; a concept simple enough for a child to understand. We need only accept His gift, agree that we are all sinners, and believe that Jesus died for us, was buried and that God raised Him from the dead. This is very different from thinking we can earn our way into heaven, or believe that surely our good deeds outweigh the wrong we have done. The truth is we can never be good enough. "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Jesus Christ. Romans 3:23-24

As I walk this journey of grief, since my sweetheart was welcomed into his eternal home, the Lord has given me a new passion to share my faith and also the desire to share all that He is teaching me during this difficult season of my life. I have believed since January last year that many more people would be in heaven because of my Bofren’s journey. I still believe that with all my heart. I pray that you will also see the beauty of this word picture as an inspiration from Him for all of us. The desire of my heart is to have painted a beautiful picture of God’s amazing love and grace. I leave you with His words to ponder: “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow…” Isaiah 1: 18

Bear Hugs

Critter Stands Ready

Posted Feb 23, 2010 (Ten months into widowhood)

When Buck was in York Hospital, he and all the Open Heart ICU patients were given Heart Bears. They were specially designed bears called Cough Buddies, to hold against their chests or abdomens after a heart or abdominal surgery. Holding pressure against their incisions would help alleviate pain whenever they coughed. To my knowledge, my Bofren never used his, maybe because of all his monitors and life support machines attached to him.

This odd shaped bear came home with the rest of Buck’s belongings after my sweetheart was called to his eternal home. For many months, the bear decorated a chair in my bedroom. In January, I was having a really hard day and spotted the bear from across the room. I don’t know why I did it, but I picked up the bear and held it tightly against me. I was surprised by how firm and lifelike it felt and was strangely comforted by holding the bear in my arms. As I closed my eyes, it felt as though I was hugging a person; which was just what I needed at that moment. The bear now stands ready on my bed and has become a sponge for my teary moments at home. I never would have thought that an inanimate object would be of any benefit to me. I was very wrong, but so pleasantly surprised by learning from my own experience. I’m so glad I listened to that small voice in my heart. I truly never anticipated such a satisfying feeling and I’m not ashamed to admit how comforting it is to hold onto that silly stuffed animal.

Sometimes, when I stay overnight at my daughter and son-in-law’s home, I share a bedroom with Colin, my four-year-old grandson. During a recent stay, I noticed a baby doll on the floor and asked Colin if his dolly ever slept with him. He said, “Not too much, but Toby  (his small stuffed bear) sleeps with me a lot”! I told Colin that I had a bear too! Colin’s response was, “What you’s bear’s name, Nana”? I replied,” You know Colin, my bear doesn’t have a name. I’m going to have to think about that”. So, I have tried on many a name for my bear. The name I settled on was "Critter", in honor of my Bofren’s reference to most animals as critters. Notice the small red heart on his paw. That just triggered another memory.  Buck often said: “I need to wash my paws”.

I don't want to suggest that hugging my bear can compare to hugging a person; but I can’t deny that it makes me feel better to hold it against my heart! I have no memories of a childhood attachment to any stuffed animals, but now I am inclined to think that little children have the right idea and are smarter than us grown-ups sometimes.
  
God knew my need before I did and this Heart Bear was ultimately intended for my use to help alleviate some of the pain from my broken, but healing heart.