a few ramblings...

i contemplated several subjects for this blog post but couldn't really commit to one, so here's just a few ramblings from my heart, my mind, my life.

- with such intentional energy and emotion given to september, the month of october barely seemed to exist. i'm in denial that it's november already.

- i spent a couple of rich hours with a friend yesterday, who's has her own story of loss. the tears in her eyes showed me love, her affirming that i find a place in her thoughts everyday eased my loneliness.

- words of wisdom from those who have had to walk through grief: be gracious/patient/forgiving when we forget appointments, change our minds at the last minute, don't return phone calls, act a lil' "crazy".

- i saw someone already displaying their christmas lights. i passionately protest this premature celebrating. give thanksgiving a chance!

- i am uncertain how i feel about entering into the holidays this year. running away to kauai is very tempting...

- i have a new housemate, ashley. it's nice to share my home, but also strange. another reminder of how this isn't the life i imagined.

- "I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much." mother teresa

- i'm prepping the house (and my heart) to place our home on the market come march. very uncertain of what will be next...rent, own, camp???

- i am enjoying my job. it's fulfilling and challenging. engages both my heart and mind. i work with good people. very grateful...

- my last rambling actually is best articulated by another widow:

I loved being married. Knowing that I shared a commitment with my husband to face life together, come what may, was a daily comfort to me. I didn't miss dating; I didn't long for freedom; I didn't feel limited; I didn't fear slipping into complacency. Looking back, I even miss the hard work that was required to create a harmonious union. Phil and I weren't the picture of married perfection, but even our imperfections were unique to us, and I miss those too (well, sometimes).

I longed to be gently held, to discuss the day in hushed voices before drifting off to sleep, to reach out in the night and not find a cold, empty space beside me. I wanted to have a date for dinner parties, share the household duties, feel the need to hurry home because someone was there waiting for me, get a checking in call on my cell phone in the middle of the day, have a person to call when I forgot to pick up the bread at the store, and to know that there was one person in the world who chose to put me first in his life because he loved me that much.

After the initial fog of grief lifted (sorry, I can't tell you when exactly), I was able to clearly articulate what I wanted from a new relationship. But being willing to risk loving again took me a much longer time. The idea of loving and losing again would immediately accelerate my breathing. The thought of someone who knew Phil seeing me with another man would begin a chorus of voices in my head asking question after question about my devotion to him: what would seeing another man mean, what would people think, and how long should I wait? Though I knew what I wanted from the life I was left to lead without Phil, I stumbled repeatedly over roadblocks I built for myself.

Michele Neff Hernandez from A Widow's Voice

I don't know if God will bring someone into my life again...I hope for this possibility, to be a wife again, to be a mom. A few weeks ago my heart was gripped with the fear of loneliness, the dread of "dating" again, the awkwardness of singlehood. I prayed (A LOT) when I would feel overcome by these fears that God would protect my heart, help me to wait in the uncertainty, give me peace and contentment for the life I have today. It didn't happen overnight but today I feel drawn so close to God, that my heart can rest and trust in Him, that I don't feel consumed by the fears and dreads of new relationships. And tomorrow I may struggle again. But I will come back to the things I know to be true...God loves me fiercely. He desires to bless me. He's there with me when my hopes are unmet.

"You cannot find peace by avoiding life."
— Virginia Woolf

I think I've fully unfolded all of my current ramblins'...thanks for taking a moment out of your day to notice me!

shalom...

simply it means peace. but this hebrew word has more layers...It means nothing missing, nothing broken, wholeness, perfect delight.

it is God's original design. but we know that His beautiful design has been broken, shalom has been severed. we struggle, we hurt, we fail, we ache.

when mike died, my shalom was severed. my sense of wholeness, beauty, hope stripped away. in the midst of my lamenting, i knew God was near, grieving that His design for peace was once again incomplete.

but shalom will only severed for a season. we will know perfect beauty, love, peace again. mike is living in perfect shalom now. how can i not find joy knowing that my love is whole again, no longer feeling pain, no longer struggling with his failures. and i believe i will experience this shalom too...not yet, but someday.

i wanted a tangible reminder of this season. to know that there will be perfect peace, that mike is in the midst of that. but that my shalom has been broken and i can lament, grieve, ache. and that God is with me in it.

so this past saturday, my best friends, kindred spirits, "sisters" kristin and kelly came with me to mark myself. here are some pictures of getting my tattoo of shalom.

before...

i was a little nervous...but aaron at mos eisley's did an amazing job!


after...it actually didn't hurt as much as i anticipated. but as i told someone the pain of getting a tattoo was part of the process.

shadows

Today I really began to feel the shadows creep in, within, over, through, around me.

One year is coming.

One year without Mike's voice, laughter, kisses, hugs, hearing him zipping home on his vespa, watching "The Office" with him, road trips to Traverse City, eating really great food, ending our days together, sharing coffee to start our days.

This is beyond hard...I want to tell God it's too much, make it end. Bring him back to me. Or maybe erase my mind and heart of how real and good it was sharing life with Mike. Cause then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much now.

milk toasts...

i wanted to be able to enter today, mike's birthday, celebrating him like i always loved to do. growing up birthdays were pretty simple in mike's family, but i love to make a big deal of them. so i often had to encourage mike to receive my celebration, that he deserved people making a big-to-do over him.

i wanted today to be a day where my heart was filled with joy in remembrance of mike...but everything in me is hurting. i want him to be here so i can wake him up in the morning with "happy birthday baby", i want to be able to hug and kiss him, i want to take him out for a decadent meal at a favorite restaurant, i want him to receive dozens of notes/cards/phone calls from everyone who loves him.

i wish my heart was ready to just celebrate, but it's just filled with grief, ache, loneliness.

so maybe today you can celebrate him for me. remember him, who he was, a favorite moment. and raise a cold glass of milk (his absolute favorite drink of choice) and toast to our amazing mike...

Torch by Alanis Morrisette

I miss your smell and your style and your pure abiding way.
miss your approach to life and your body in my bed.
miss your take on anything and the music you would play.
miss cracking up and wrestling, our debriefs at end of day.

these are things that i miss.
these are not times for the weak of heart.
these are the days of raw despondence.
i never dreamed i would have to lay down my torch for you like this.

i miss your neck and your gait and your sharing what you write.
miss you walking through the front door documentaries in your hand.
miss traveling our traveling and your fun and charming friends.
miss our big sur getaways.
and to watch you love my dogs.

these are things that i miss.
these are not times for the weak of heart
these are the days of raw despondence.
I never dreamed i would have to lay down my torch for you like this.

One step one prayer
I soldier on, simulating, moving on.

I miss your warmth and the thought of us bringing up our kids.
And the part of you that walks with your stick-tied handkerchief.

these are things that i miss.
these are not times for the weak of heart
these are the days of raw despondence.
I never dreamed i would have to lay down my torch for you like this.

september...

people have been kind in saying what a gift I have with words and how they have been blessed by my writing.

but I sit here in front of my computer, struggling to find the words...

september.

the month of mike's beginning and end.

he should be celebrating 34 years of life on september 12th.

i hate september 27th.

confessions of a widow...

Growing up I was told that I could do anything I put my mind to and regardless of being a "girl" that didn't mean I wasn't capable of accomplishing anything. I believe in the equality and empowerment of women.

So my confession...I miss having Mike around to do "man" things. House-projects, car maintenance, computer-techy stuff. He was good at that stuff and always took care of those needs. And since Mike's passing, when my car was acting up or my computer was jammed up I found myself mad at Mike for leaving me. And I was mad at myself for feeling incompetent and "needy".

I have wrestled through these domestic issues, reading my car's manual about a broken windshield wiper or most recently figuring out how to reset my wireless connection (and I felt like a rockstar when it actually worked!) And I learn to extend grace towards myself....that there's nothing wrong in feeling "needy" or desiring a man's presence.

another torn cloth...

as another day came to a close i checked my e-mails only to receive the news that one of my college friends lost her mom this morning. her mom had been battling brain cancer for over a year. tragically this same friend has a son who has been battling with leukemia for a few years now. it's hard to imagine how much pain and trials this family has had to endure...

this friend and i had briefly reconnected this past year, only running into each other a few times. but in those brief moments i could see in her similar battle wounds that come from grief. there's a weariness , but also a resolve to be strong. there's tenderness and vulnerability. there's no place for small talk, but an ache to be real, authentic. while i hadn't seen her in a few years, i trusted her with my pain because i knew she had been walking through similar valleys.

Kriah, an ancient Jewish tradition, is the Hebrew word meaning "tearing." It refers to the act of tearing one's clothes or cutting a black ribbon worn on one's clothes. This rending is a striking expression of grief and anger at the loss of a loved one.

a few months ago mars hill bible church did a series on lamenting. we were given black strips of fabric, a tangible symbol of our griefs, our laments. i carry this torn cloth with me, to remind me to ache, to release my lament to God.

tonight another cloth is torn..for kathy's life. for her family and friends who will celebrate her life and ache for her presence.

familiar...

I have tried to explain to people what my grieving is like...and the best way to put it is that it has become a familiar presence in my life. Time has not "healed" me yet, nor has the ache for Mike lessened, but I've developed a relationship with grief.

Recently I came across a blog for widows (ugh! that word again...it never fails to make me gag) where one writer put these thoughts perfectly into words:


"Over the past four years grief and I have reluctantly become friends. Grief is not the kind of friend I can call in the middle of the night when I am sad, but rahter the kind of friend who sits quietly at teh end of my bed while I cry myself to sleep. Grief may be away for weeks or even months a a time, but the knock of this friend is now as familiart to me as my own voice. There is no need to explain my sorrow to grief; she understands my process better than I do. Grief knows I will get up again no matter how hard I have been hit by her power, and patiently stands as a witness to my ability to regain my balance time and time again. When grief calls, I stop what I am doing because I have learned that she must be answered. When I quit trying to escape her, I found an unexpected comfort by her side. She calls me and repels me; guides me and confuses me; moves me forward and throw me back.

Some day I hate grief, and other days I miss her. I have discovered a safe place in her arms, though her twisting, turning path won't allow me to be still for long. Her presence has added a soft cadence to my day to day life that I have come to rely on as a confirmation that I am, indeed, alive. The irony of this does not escape me. I have relized that in my mind grief has replaced Phil, and that my fera of letting him go has created a relationship with grief I could never have anticipated.

I am beginning to believe that this is why grief comes in waves. If grief was linear and we could walk from on stage into the next, there would likely be large numbers of grieving people with severe stage fright. I would be terrified if someone were able to provide me with a grief graduation date. Instead, grief throws us from one phase to the next, with no predictable pattern or discernible course. Like a boxer who learns to fight on their feet, our tortured, grieving selves wheel from on moment to the next watching for the inevitable gut punch. And slowly, painfully we become stronger, faster, and more confident each time we are forced into the ring. That doesn't mean we won't hit the mat, or that we won't be tempted to stay down for the count...but somehow our spirits find the will to fight one more time.

Grief holds the towel as we come out of the ring. Grief bandages our wounds and then sends us to face the opponent called death, again and again. Grief stands behind the stool in our corner and insists we go another round. There is a saying that speaks to the concept that some friends come into our lives for a purpose, but do not stay long. I am beginning to think of grief as a friend who will come and go from my life. She will show me how to survive in the ring of sorrow and then leave me with thses hard earned knocks hoping they teach me something about living courageously. Grief will also point out that she is not Phil and that he is not her. He exists in a separate, and timeless place that she does not inhabit. Grief is wise. And eventually I must let her go, knowing that when she resurfaces, sometime down the road, I will greet her as a friend."

thank you michele neff hernandez from widow's voice for putting into words this new "friendship" i find in my life...

laboring...

well summer has finally hit us...i won't complain about the hot steamy temps, especially after our long winter.

thank you for everyone's support, encouragement and celebration about my new job...i'm in my third week and feel very affirmed that this will be a great experience. everyone at ada has been very welcoming and helpful as i transition in. some of the exciting projects i'm working on are helping develop a marriage mentoring and individual mentoring program. perhaps the biggest challenge is adjusting to working full-time again. but the piles of laundry and my overgrown lawn can wait! i welcome the fullness of my days...

i've been thinking about laboring these past few days...it's almost been nine months since mike left us. and in an interesting contrast to my loss my dear friends curt and kristin have been expecting their third baby these past nine months.

death and life mingled.

they welcomed their son, levi this week. he's tiny, beautiful, perfectly designed. my heart is filled with joy for them!



i feel like i'm going through my own labor...but i don't feel fully formed yet. but every day i do feel a piece of me is healed, put back together, or rediscovered. and every day there's a moment where i am lonely, i ache for mike.

the other day i was shopping for "work" clothes and found myself in the men's section eyeing some sweaters and shirts that i thought would look great on mike. i loved shopping for him. but as i stood there i thought i have no reason to admire these clothes. i felt silly crying over a men's sweater in the Gap...

but grief doesn't make sense, it's messy and clumsy. these are my labor pains.

a new beginning...

I've said this before that losing Mike has also been a loss of life direction and anticipations...Everything I knew to be true seemed to be deconstructed and I've had to reconstruct my life these past months. Part of that has been listening to where my next calling is for my vocation...

For the past two years I've been building up my photography business, a "creative sabbatical" from my years of serving as a counselor and working in higher education. Before Mike's death I felt a desire to return to a career that would allow me to counsel again, be a part of building community. That desire has increased even more so this past year. The love my community has graced me with has been essential in my survival, my healing. And as I have been broken my heart for others has increased...wanting to walk alongside others who are also hurting.

Praying and hoping for a new career opportunity was difficult, messy, scary, but also affirming. I wanted to ask God to grant me a "break", to give me something to help me find life and purpose again. But I also was too fearful to hope for something good...

But I know a God who hears even our unspoken desires and prayers and in His grace blesses us with more than we can imagine...

So today I accepted a position at Ada Bible Church serving as the Care and Marriage Coordinator. This opportunity will be helping with various programs to help strengthen and heal marriages, a marriage mentoring program, assisting with womens and singles ministries...and I imagine a lot more! I am excited and thankful for this opportunity...To use my life story and my career experience to speak into this community, to advocate for strong marriages and healing of people's unique brokenness.

I will continue to find a place to pursue photography...I love the creative outlet and will continue to do it on the side.

With each new beginning there's always a layer of my grief mingled in...Mike's not here to celebrate with me, to support me. All of these new life choices are mine alone to make.

But I have felt the support and celebration of so many...so thanks to all of you have come alongside during this new beginning!

nine years...

Nine years ago Mike and I, in presence of so many family and friends committed our lives, our hearts to one another. It was a sweet and simple day, much of it going by in a blur. All I could think about was him, about becoming his wife, about starting our life together. I didn't care if the flowers were messed up or if we couldn't light the unity candle (which happened). I was his, he was mine.

It feels unreal that our journey together has ended. That I won't celebrate anymore years with him. I had so many images of us as parents, going on family vacations, doing home projects, and one day being old fuddy-duddys with each other.

I learned so much being married to Mike. And I continue to learn in his absence. I wish I didn't have regrets, that I didn't have thoughts of wishing I was more kind, more patient, that I never let one day pass without showing him the depth of my love. But if there is one thing we did well was that we were real in our marriage. It was flawed and messy. We fought, we nagged, we were unkind at times. But we always pushed to be more, to strength our relationship.

Mike helped me to enjoy life, to be free. I tend to be so serious and intense, a bit sensitive. Mike was so happy-go-lucky and friendly, unassuming. We had so many fun, playful moments. We loved to travel together, take road trips, camp. He made me laugh and smile. And I could be goofy and silly with him. He was my best friend.

He delighted in me and celebrated me. Over ten years of knowing each other we changed a lot. But he always accepted me. And I loved the person he was and was becoming. I looked forward to many years of growing together.

I miss his voice, his kisses, his smell. I miss our daily phone calls. I miss feeling his feet under the covers.

From the start of our relationship we always tried to remember that our marriage was also about community with others. That our relationship could bless others and that we needed community to help us grow in our marriage. We found a special kinship with our friends Jake and Mandy who share our exact wedding anniversary. We always joked that we had more marriage wisdom since we were married a few hours before them.

Mike spoiled me, giving me gifts "just because". I tend to be the cheaper chicken type of girl, and he showed me that I am worthy of a little filet mignon every once in awhile.

But most of all my marriage with Mike taught me how to love...the beautiful, sacred, forgiving, grace-filled kind of love.

I remember praying during our engagement that God would help me to hold loosely Mike, that he was really not mine to control or own. That he belonged fully to God. I have had to remember this prayer as I continue to daily grieve Mike's absence.

And today I hope he knows how much I love him, how much he has enriched my life and how much I miss him.

rosemary and remembrance...

things are green again. the air smells like earth, life. it's a season to grow things.

i picked up this lovely rosemary plant today. rosemary is a symbol of remembrance. it has a beautiful fragrance and i know it will make savory spring dishes. and every time i use some i will remember how much mike and i loved to garden, to visit the farmer's market, grill fresh veggies and sit on our front porch.

We're not dancing, we're limping, but it's the best that we can do.

Linford Detweiler (Over the Rhine)

I mentioned a few posts back that I was in the midst of some really bad days. I found my way out of that week. Learned some lessons. Can't say that I've had great days since then, but I'm "limping" through them.

A few updates...

I did find some direction about selling my house and searching for a job. I realized that I'm not ready to go through the selling/moving process. It feels like another loss and I don't know if my heart can take it. While death gave Mike peace, it seems to have left ripples of destruction in my life. I lost my love, our dreams and possibilities won't be fulfilled, my photography career has to pause.

And I am aware of the desire and need for purpose in my life. So seeking out a job seemed to be more of a life-giving venture. So for now the house will remain my home and I am working on my resume and searching for job opportunities. Hopefully once I have a job I'll know what my options are for the house.

I'm anxious for spring to arrive, to see green, to smell fresh earth, feel the sun. Maybe it will bring some more renewal to my spirit.

no words...

i who live by words,
am wordless when
i try my words in prayer
all language turns
to silence

-l'engle

this past week i've had different friends who have welcomed beautiful new souls into their families...little babies that should only know love, but already in their first days must struggle. one of these families said good-bye to their baby girl after one day of life. the other family hopes relentlessly for little victories for their little girl.

even though i'm walking through my own story of loss, all of grief is different. so unique, sacred, personal. i too struggle to find the words that could offer comfort or peace. but my heart is with them...and i found in my journey that to be the most healing thing. to have people aware of me, my loss.

so tonight i am sitting in silent, wordless prayer, ever so present to the broken paths my friends are walking...

bad days...

just when i think i'm getting through the days with a bit more strength, clarity, engagement...another surge of grief hits me. what can seem like a benign day takes a nasty turn for no reason, and i'm weepy, angry, lost.

and there's no one i want more in that moment than mike. to be the one to console me, to hug me, to talk things through.

i've been going through my boxes of pictures and letters. i confess i'm a pack-rat and save everything. but i couldn't be more thankful for this, cause i have every letter, note, ticket stub, snap-shot from our relationship. and it feels like it's time to take this stuff out of the box and create an album to celebrate these memories. i haven't read most of the cards...too painful to see his hand-writing. to know that there will be no more cards, no more birthdays, anniversaries, even ordinary moments.

and i feel mad tonight. mad that i had this amazing friend and husband, and it's just gone. mad that we were starting a new season of our relationship, with our first home and hopes for a family of our own...and those possibilities have died too. mad that i won't grow old with him. mad that he left me.

so bad days...just a piece of my reality.

love so amazing...

** first let me preface that i am okay on this day...mike and i did not "celebrate" valentine's day. i think we were better at expressing romance during the ordinary days.**

i found this letter i wrote to mike as i've been sorting through boxes of pictures and other memories. it stuck out to me cause it was a valentine's letter and we really didn't get into this holiday. it was written during our first year living in seattle.

i hesitate knowing if i want to share with you what i wrote. i don't want to "glorify" our marriage, cause it had it's major flaws and i would say many days we failed to delight in each other, to be patient, to express our love. but i am so grateful that we fought hard to get to those moments of grace, love, beauty. and when we had them...it was a little piece of the sacred. i knew God more in those moments. and really mike SPOILED me! i was blessed....

so i do want to share with you my words to mike, my husband and best friend...cause we had a good love, that allowed us to experience the amazing and divine love of God.

to my friend, my husband, my love...

loving you can be such a vulnerable act. these past couple of months have challenged me to be more naked and that's scary. what has been amazing is the more you see of me, the more you loved me. i am so stunned by your forgiveness and tenderness that i sometimes want to run from it.

i'm thankful for where we are at...instead of loving each other in silly gestures on this holiday, we are wrestling with our sin and grieving our disappointments.

i love you mike. and the more you expose your heart, show me all the good and bad, the deeper i fall. your nakedness tells me you trust me and you're challenging me to cover you with grace. i long for us to be there.

always yours,
kelly

give it words

Whoever survives a test, whatever it may be,
must tell the story.
That is his duty.

–Elie Wiesel

discernment...

dis·cern·ment noun
1 : the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure

my heart and mind have been a bit consumed with trying to discern what are my next life steps...specifically with a job and the house.

i wasn't prepared to have to re-examine or restart my life...i didn't foresee this detour.

but i am here and i know that i need to step forward. while of course still being kind and patient with my grieving.

i know i feel ready to bring back some other purpose into my life, in addition to the healing and grieving. i feel the desire to work, to engage, to contribute. one of my friend's daughter asked me what i want to be when i grow up (and thanks for seeing me so "young" that i can still consider this question). i feel there could be so many options ahead of me...my photography, counseling, returning to higher education/college work. and yet i will confess that my sense of hope and trust still feel broken (not to mention that the current status of our economy doesn't do much to encourage me).

and my house, my home. i love this space. mike and i were blessed by this space. but it also feels like a lot to bear by myself. so do i sell? do i try to stay?

these are not questions i want to ask or have to answer by myself...

so i continue to ask for your prayers for discernment, wisdom and to be bearers of hope for me...and i do welcome any advice, expertise, or job offers!

we...

i find myself stumbling through the transition of "we" to "i"...

i still tell stories, reflect on life, share tidbits using the reference "we"...

i guess that's something i'm trying to walk through...who i am now in light of this? someone said well you're not married anymore, you are single. but i still feel married. my heart and mind always experiencing and processing things with mike in mind. and i will never be "single". once you've been intimately connected with someone mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually you are always marked by that.

so for now i think i'm okay when a "we" slips through...