God Already Knew

I was at Bible Study last week and we had a good discussion about whether God shows Himself to us in present day. We know from the Bible that God showed Himself to others before Jesus was born and then, of course, Jesus appeared to his disciples after he rose from the dead. As we talked about our experiences with God, I realized that, yes, God has showed Himself to me, He has tried to lead me and (sometimes) I have chosen to follow Him.

When Steve was killed, I didn’t realize how God had prepared me for it. Steve and I had been married for 10 years and we had only attended church sporadically throughout that time. We were the kind of Christians who went to church on Christmas and Easter each year but that was about it. I had always considered myself a Christian and I enjoyed going to a Baptist church with my friends as I grew up in Michigan. Steve was raised Catholic and we were married in the Catholic church as well.

About two years before Steve died, I started to feel a “tug” inside of me. I was longing for church but didn’t feel entirely comfortable in the Catholic church near our home. Steve and I agreed that a Catholic church was not the right fit for us and we began visiting some others. It took a while (we still weren’t going regularly) but in October of 2003, we walked into Loving Shepherd Lutheran Church and our lives were changed forever.

I can’t explain how it felt except to say that Loving Shepherd felt like “home” to us! We began going to church every Sunday. Both of us started studying the Bible. Our children were attending Sunday School. In December of 2003, I was baptized with Cameron and Caitlin. We volunteered at church and made good friends there.

I didn’t realize it but I can now confidently say that God was speaking to me. He led me to the support that I would need to survive Steve’s death. He led Steve to where he could grow in his faith. He was showing me how to be a Christian parent because my children were also going to need their faith in the years to come. It was just one year after we walked into Loving Shepherd that Steve died. Who knew? God did.

Since that time, I have leaned on my faith, even in the darkest of days and God has not let me down. He has sent people into my path to help me when I’ve needed it, He has made sure that our material needs have been met, He has given me the courage to make difficult choices in my life.

I haven’t always listened to God, though. Sometimes, I’ve thought that my way was better than His way. Looking back on my second marriage, it’s easy for me to see how it happened. I didn’t want to be a single mom. I was happily married one day, widowed and pregnant the next. I was exhausted, grieving and I missed sharing my life with Steve. I thought I was a better mom when I was married. I decided to take things into my own hands, instead of having faith in God’s plan for my life! I thought that I could still have the family I was “meant to have” if I got married again.

It was only after being absolutely miserable, seeing two different marriage counselors and my children telling me that they were unhappy that I finally let go of that marriage and admitted that maybe God knew more than I did! I was finally ready to accept that God had a plan for my life and for reasons I may never understand, I was supposed to be raising my children alone. In fact, I am a better mother now than I ever was in that second marriage.

With the realization that God knows best came an incredible freedom. I am happier today than I have been since that fateful day over eight years ago. I am in love with a wonderful man, I love being a mom and I am letting God lead my life. I have started working towards a professional goal and I’ve been attending a new church. I am surrounded by friends and my faith gets stronger with each day. Thank you, Lord, for showing yourself to me. I am blessed.

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A Christmas Miracle

Ready for Christmas

Ready for Christmas

Three days until Christmas and I am filled with gratitude. As I look around my home, I have a sense of peace that I have not felt for more than eight years. This is the first Christmas that I can remember, since Steve died, that I’m not filled with a longing for a complete family. Ever since he died, our family has felt like part of it was missing. I have not been able to enjoy the holidays without missing Steve, wishing he was here to share in our joy. Although I still wish he could share in the magic of this season with our children, our family finally feels complete. Perhaps we have closed the hole that was left by his death. Our family is the four of us. We don’t need anyone else to make us feel complete anymore. I can be at home with just my children and feel happy, content and secure in the choices I’ve made since Steve died. I am not exactly sure how I’ve gotten to this point. When did the healing occur? When did I decide that my children are all that I need to be whole? Somewhere along the past eight years, God has worked a miracle in me. He has made me whole again.

My faith has sustained me through the grief of losing my husband, through the birth of my baby and through the subsequent eight years. I have not always made good decisions. I remarried too soon, to the wrong person. It was a decision made out of grief and fear. I was afraid of raising my children alone. I became a parent within marriage and I wanted to raise them within marriage. For some reason that I may never know, however, God decided that I would raise my children as a single mother. It was only after accepting His decision that I was able to leave that marriage. I had to realize that I was a better mother when I was strong and happy, whether or not I was married.

My faith has led me to a place where I could fall in love again. This time, I am enjoying being in love without feeling the need to rush into marriage. I don’t feel guilty when I think of spending the rest of my life with this person. I am excited at the prospect of a life with him. Those who know me have said that I am happier than they’ve seen me since Steve died. God has blessed me and I know that no matter what happens, God will never leave me.

As we celebrate Christmas this year, I am going to enjoy every minute of it. I am spending Christmas Eve alone with my children. We will go to church and thank God for sending his Son to die for us. We will watch Christmas movies and make gingerbread cookies. We will spend Christmas Day with our extended family and it will be a blessed holiday. I love my children and I love being a mother. Thank you, Lord.

Choosing Not To Grieve

Some days it’s just better to keep busy…to have so many things to do that I don’t have time to think, time to grieve. Today is one of those days. October 22nd. The anniversary of Steve’s death.

I have spent many of these anniversaries curled up in my bed, unable to do anything but relive that awful day.  October 22nd, 2004. A day of worry, hope, shock, denial, grief. A day that is forever a part of my soul.

As it is with my grief, I have been feeling this anniversary coming for about a week or so. I’ve been more emotional. I’ve cried for no apparent reason. Today, I feel sad for my children, sad for the old me: Steve’s wife. I’m at a crossroads in my life this year and I feel it….I am truly happy for the first time since Steve died so it’s hard for me to grieve him the way that I’ve always done, as my best friend and soul mate.

I am a different person since Steve died. I am a confident and secure single Mom. I am strong in my Christian faith. I have a wide circle of friends and a wonderful boyfriend. I wonder if Steve would even recognize me today?

I have always missed Steve, my high school sweetheart, the man who could make me laugh in any situation, my best friend. I do still miss him, but it’s different now. I miss the father of my children. I wonder what he would say and what he would do when I am parenting them. I love to remember him and tell our children stories about him. I think it’s my job to keep him alive for them. How will they know that he didn’t like mushrooms if I don’t tell them?

I don’t want  to grieve anymore. I want to be happy. I’ve learned that life is short so I’m grabbing every moment of happiness that I can while I’m here. I am keeping busy today: working, running errands, taking my children to appointments. I don’t want to remember what I was doing at this very moment, eight years ago today. If I start to remember, I will fall apart. I remember every minute of that day and I don’t want to relive it. Not today. Not again.

I started my day with a prayer, I’ve prayed several times already today and I know God will help me make it through this anniversary. I have a lot to do. I will keep busy. I don’t know if this is avoiding the grief or just choosing NOT to grieve, but it’s how I’ll spend this anniversary. I want to embrace the happiness in my life and I don’t want to go back to that day. Not today.

This Time of Year

 Cooler mornings. Leaves changing. Pumpkin patches in front of the churches. Fall has arrived. I used to love this time of year. In many ways, I still do. But mostly I find myself more emotional, breaking down into tears without warning. I know why this happens, I just wonder when it will stop catching me off guard.

It’s been eight years since my life changed. I went from being a wife to being a widow. Widow is a word that I had never given much thought to before that fateful day in October of 2004. Widows were old women with gray hair, or so I thought until I became one.

In those first days after Steve died, I vaguely remember someone bringing over pumpkins and carving them with my children. There were small pumpkins placed at the accident site along with the flowers that were left there. The makeshift cross bearing Steve’s name, the firefighter’s jacket. All of the ways that our friends and family tried to make sense of what happened to him. A memorial born out of intense grief. I didn’t venture out to that intersection until several days after the accident. It was after most of our friends and family had left to return home to their lives that I went there to see the broken glass still in the roadway. The broken glass very much like my life….how would I pick up the pieces with my two small children, a baby on the way, and suddenly without my life partner?

Halloween came and my children went trick or treating with my cousin. I tried to hand out candy until a neighbor stopped by and offered me her “words of wisdom.” She said, “Don’t worry, you’ll remarry again. It’s like getting divorced, you can never imagine getting married again and then you do.” I was widowed. It was NOT like a divorce. I had no choice in the life I was thrust into by Steve’s death. I closed my door and turned out my light. I couldn’t give out anymore candy and pretend to be happy. I was only NINE DAYS into my journey of widowhood.

So the fall changed into winter and one year passed into another. In these eight years, I’ve learned that widows aren’t just old women with gray hair. They’re young women like me, trying to raise our children without their fathers. Women like me who are “only” parents, not “single” parents. Women like me who make mistakes and sometimes try to numb their pain. But eight years has also taught me that I can be happy on my own, that I can be there for my children and still take care of myself, that it’s okay to fall in love again. I have come to a place in my life where I can look into my future without fear. I can see happiness ahead and I like what I see.

Why, then, does this time of year continue to wreak havoc on my emotions? Perhaps it’s the reminder of where I was eight years ago and how far I’ve come since then that makes me feel like crying? The realization that I can see my future without Steve that makes me sad….knowing that I’ve begun to heal from the wounds caused by October 22nd, 2004. I don’t feel broken anymore and it’s good to be whole again.

Life Goes On

There’s one thing that I’ve learned on this journey of widowhood: life doesn’t stop for grief. As much as I wished I could curl up and just grieve, the world still existed. My children needed to be fed. I had to go to work. In fact, my experience has been that the world expects grief to last a year. During that first year, people are more patient with grieving souls. They understand your grief, they accept it and you are encouraged to grieve.

After the first year, however, you are expected to “be over” it. It’s no longer acceptable to break down in tears for no apparent reason, to be exhausted because your grief is the worst at night, to have a hard time concentrating. What I found, though, was that the second year without Steve was actually harder than the first year. During my first year, I was pregnant and just trying to make it from day to day. My life centered around my children and the new baby I was carrying. Our first holidays without Steve are a blur. I went through the motions, for my children’s sake, with the goal of just making it through those days. The first Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, the kids’ birthdays, the birth of our baby, our wedding anniversary, Father’s Day. If I could just make it through the first year, I thought I would be okay.

I was wrong. The second year without Steve turned out to be the hardest of all. I had to find a new “normal” for me and the kids. I had a new baby to care for, all by myself. There was no denying that Steve was gone and he would not be coming back. I had to accept this life that God had given me. I started dating again. The world expected me to be healed but I was far from over the grief of losing him. It has taken several years for me to feel as if I am healed. I made terrible mistakes during my grief. I married the wrong man because I thought that being married would make me a better mother. I dated to avoid loneliness. I drank too much to self-medicate the pain. My journey of grief did not end after one year.

Steve’s birthday was last week. It has been almost eight years since he died. When I reminded my son about his dad’s birthday, he said to me, “That’s gonna be a hard day for you, Mom.” My children have grown accustomed to my grief and they know that certain days of the year are harder for me than others. I am happy to say, though, that my grief has subsided into thankfulness for the memories, love and children that Steve blessed me with during his lifetime. I cried for a few minutes on his birthday but then I showered and got ready for work. Life goes on.

Letting Go of the Grief

My life with Steve is starting to feel like a dream. It’s been so long now that he’s been gone, I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch. In some ways, I think that’s a good thing. It’s only when I’m not physically longing for him that I’m able to truly open my heart and love someone new. I would like to think that losing the love of my life when I was just 32 years old means that God intends for me to have TWO loves of my life. One for creating children (Steve) and one with which I was meant to grow old. Some are blessed to have just one love of their life: they create children and grow old with the same person. That was not God’s plan for my life.

As I am losing the real “feel” of Steve, so are my children. In some ways, this is very sad. I lost my dad when I was just nine years old so I know how heartbreaking it is for a child to realize that they can’t remember specific things about their parent. I would grieve sometimes just for the fact that I didn’t remember him. I was lonely because I didn’t have A dad, not because I missed MY dad. How can you miss someone that you don’t remember?

In other ways, though, losing the memories means letting go of the grief. I am relieved that my children don’t cry as often as they used to for Steve. They spend most of their days enjoying their lives and being happy. Life without a dad is all that they know and we have settled into our own routine as a family.

My oldest son is starting high school in the fall yet he was in first grade when his dad died. I was startled to realize that I have raised him throughout his entire educational career, all on my own. It really puts into perspective how long Steve has been gone. I am proud of the young man that Cameron is growing into and I know that Steve would be too. I see so much of his father in him, it’s as if Steve is not really gone at all. Cameron looks like Steve and he has the same mannerisms and sense of humor. I am constantly being reminded of Steve as a teenager and it makes me smile to know that so much of him is still here with us.

My daughter is starting middle school in the fall but she was only in preschool when her dad died. She is a strong-willed, independent, athletic little girl who has the best of both of us. If Steve were here, he would say that she gets her ambition from me while she is fearless like him. As a straight-A student and competitive gymnast, both characteristics are serving her well!

At seven years old, my little man is finally realizing what it means that he doesn’t have a daddy. I have caught him crying and holding Steve’s picture. He never met Steve so it’s not really the person that he’s missing. Connor is grieving for a loss that happened before he was born. He’s sad because he sees his friends with their dads and he knows that he doesn’t have the same thing. It’s been really hard for me to see my baby hurting. All these years, Connor was the only one of us who didn’t grieve Steve’s death. It was like he was protected from our pain and, as a mother, I was relieved for him. Now, though, I can’t shield him from the fact that he only has one parent. Unfortunately, it’s our reality and, even at seven years old, he’s learning that there are some things that just can’t be changed.

This time of year, the ending of the school year, has left me feeling full of pride for these children that Steve and I created. They are growing into amazing people and I know that it is only with the help of God that I’ve been able to raise them. I also know that as we all move forward and let go of our grief, we will be able to live the lives that God intended for us. In my heart, I know that’s what Steve would want for the four people he loved most in this world!

His Life in Pictures

As we began the painful process of planning Steve’s funeral, I was told that I could display some pictures of Steve in the funeral home (this was before photos could be made into videos that are now shown at funerals). I had no idea what to do with the pictures and, as anyone who knows me can attest, I am not creative at all!

I don’t know which day it was, a day or two after he died perhaps, when I started going through years of pictures. I dug some out of my closet. Some came out of our garage. I took pictures out of frames and out of photo albums. I found pictures with each of our family members so that no one would be left out. I honestly don’t know how I did it. Selecting the pictures to be shown at the love of my life’s funeral. I don’t remember if I cried or laughed as I looked through them. The one thing that sticks with me, though, is the memory of being surrounded by family and friends. My house was full of people who loved me!

While I was sorting through pictures, we were also finding songs to play at the funeral. I have a vivid memory of singing to the song, “I Can Only Imagine,” by Mercy Me while I’m sitting on the floor surrounded by pictures of the man I loved. A man who was now gone.

My wonderfully creative friends saved me that night! They took the pictures that I selected and made beautiful posters with them. The posters were displayed at the funeral for everyone to see how special Steve was to us.

There were lots of pictures of me with Steve over the years. It was amazing to see how young we were in some of them! Photos of vacations to the beach, Disney World, Jamaica and many trips to visit our families in Michigan. There were pictures of our pets, our friends, our nieces and nephews. Pictures of us at weddings and graduations. All of the major milestones in our lives were documented in the photos on those poster boards.

Steve was a great father so of course I selected many pictures of him with our children. Some of my favorites were the unposed ones; like the one where he’s playing in the sand with our son or the one where he’s holding our baby girl and kissing her on the head. There was one extra-special picture on that poster, however. It was my ultrasound picture, dated 10/14/04, just 8 days before Steve died. He had gone with me to the doctor appointment so he saw our baby too. It was the only picture I had of our “peanut” so far, and it was as much a part of Steve as it was of me, so I put the picture on display for everyone to see. Steve had created THREE children, not just the two little ones running around with me.

After the funeral was over, I asked my sister-in-law to compile all of the pictures into an album for me. It was so hard to sum up Steve’s life in pictures but I had somehow managed to do it. I wanted to keep them all together so that our children could look at them whenever they wanted to see him again. She created a gorgeous album for me and I still treasure it!

When I look at the photo album now, it’s as if that life was all a dream. I hardly recognize myself in those pictures. I know that Steve’s death changed me, but it’s not until I look at old pictures do I realize just how MUCH I’ve changed. My faith is stronger now. I’m more independent. I’ve been raising three children on my own and they’re great kids. It makes me wonder if Steve would even recognize me if he were to see me today?

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