Yesterday while cleaning out a closet, I came across some dried roses hanging from a rod. They were the last roses Bob had given me before he passed away. I took them out and put them on a table. I continued cleaning out the closet to gather items to either donate or throw away. There was a manilla envelope sitting on one of the shelves. I opened it and found some vintage valentine cards that Bob and I had purchased through the years at antique shops. I placed 2 of them next to the roses.
Later in the day, I went into a filing cabinet to look through some papers that I could possibly start shredding. Behind a stack of papers I found the letters Bob had written to me while he was in the military and overseas. I took them out and placed them near the roses and valentine cards.
My last Valentine’s day with Bob was February, 2022. We didn’t do anything special. We just talked and reminisced about our life together and I made us a special meal.
Today, on Valentine’s Day, I’m doing the same thing…reminiscing, remembering, being thankful for the years that I had with Bob and showing love to those that I still have in my life.
Over the past week, I’ve made plans to get some painting done in my home, I’m tackling projects that Bob and I talked about doing together and I sense his smile and can hear his words in my heart too, “I’m proud of you, Nancy. You can do this!”
My son, Michael, brought me a bouquet of flowers today for Valentine’s Day.
A few days ago two of my friends brought over a beautiful Valentine’s Day card and some homemade cookies.
Love came to me this Valentine’s Day. It showed up in unexpected and different ways and through different people.
I still feel Bob’s love. I feel the love of family and friends. I feel God’s love.
It was early in the morning on February 3 and dew blanketed my lawn and the glass railings surrounding my deck. Our February temperatures have been unseasonably spring-like but that morning they dropped again and the moisture turned to a sparkling crystal like pattern on the glass.
I have a book that I read in the morning with a passage dated for each day. I had been busy all week taking care of my 3 year old grandson and missed several days so I went back to January 30 to catch up. I had a fun week of non-stop activity but felt the need that morning for some deep physical and spiritual rest.
This is the passage that I read …
Spiritual Dew
“I will be as the dew to Israel…” (Hos. 14:5).
The dew is a source of freshness. It is nature’s provision for renewing the face of the earth. It falls at night, and without it the vegetation would die. It is this great value of the dew which is so often recognized in the Scriptures. It is used as the symbol of spiritual refreshing. Just as nature is bathed in dew, so the Lord renews His people. In Titus 3:5 the same thought of spiritual refreshing is connected with the ministry of the Holy Spirit – “renewing of the Holy Spirit.”
…Every day you must receive the renewing of the Holy Spirit. You know when your whole being is pulsating with the vigor and freshness of Divine life and when you feel jaded and worn. Quietness and absorption bring the dew. At night when the leaf and blade are still, the vegetable pores are open to receive the refreshing and invigorating bath; so spiritual dew comes from quietly lingering in the Master’s presence. Get still before Him. Haste will prevent your receiving the dew. Wait before God until you feel saturated with His presence; then go forth to your next duty with the conscious freshness and vigor of Christ.
– Dr. Paddington
Dew will never gather while there is either heat or wind. The temperature must fall, and the wind cease, and the air come to a point of coolness and rest – absolute rest, so to speak – before it can yield up its invisible particles of moisture to bedew either herb or flower. So the grace of God does not come forth to rest the soul of man until the stillpoint is fairly and fully reached.
“Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease: Take from our souls the strain and stress; And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the pulses of desire Thy coolness and Thy balm; Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire: Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire, O still small voice of calm!
– Taken from Streams In The Desert compiled by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman.
After reading the above excerpt from my book and praying for God’s fresh dew to Invigorate me, I glanced out my picture window and noticed the frost on the glass railing surrounding my deck was melting…all except one area of the glass nearest to my window. It’s a heart! I whispered. I grabbed my phone and took this photo:
Everything I read that morning and this heart spoke deeply to me and I was revived.
Some may call this silly or a coincidence but I call it the still small voice of God.
Winter has finally come to the Midwest after an unseasonably mild start to our winter season. As I snapped this photo yesterday, I thought about the very first blog post I wrote after the winter of 2014 and decided to reblog it today. Click continue reading below …
“Somebody help me! I don’t want to be alone! Those were the cries of my 3 year old grandson when he woke up one morning at 4:30 am.
My son went into his room, comforted him and his presence was all my grandson needed to calm down and drift back to sleep.
I think most of us cry out for the same thing. Maybe not in the way my grandson did at 4:30 in the morning but our deepest need in life is to love and be loved. It’s for community and connection. It’s about knowing that someone would be there for us at 4:30 in the morning if we needed them.
Our human condition is fragile. We can pretend that it isn’t; that we are rocks and Islands, that we don’t need anybody and that we’re strong enough to make it through the dark nights of the soul alone.
I think of the familiar song by Simon and Garfunkel, “I Am a Rock.” The lyrics at the end of that song are: “And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.”
Has there ever been a time that you’ve felt that way? When I think back over my life, I can identify times when I did. It’s hard to admit, but I have walled myself off from others often using the excuse that I was an introvert and liked to be alone. Isolation didn’t serve me well.
There came a time in my life when I finally realized I was pushing people away during difficult times and isolating. I’ve got this. I’m strong enough to handle it. I didn’t want to appear needy or weak.
I have seen it in the Christian community. We can equate weakness with a lack of faith and so we parade around behind our masks and move about like good little Christians.
But that really doesn’t help us or deepen our faith. It also doesn’t help others, because if we appear to have it all together, all the time, it’s a discouragement to those struggling. They begin to believe that Christianity isn’t going to work for them, because they are just not strong enough and I’ve seen some abandon the community of faith and worse yet…put their faith to sleep.
In authentic environments there is freedom. Living in community is being real. Real with God and real with others. It’s rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep. (Romans 12:15)
Real with God:
My grace is all you need, for my power is the greatest when you are weak. 2 Corinthians 12:9
My flesh and heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73: 26
Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10
I can do all this through him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13
When we break down our walls, and are finally truthful with ourselves and God we are able to handle better what life throws at us. Leaning on Him is where strength comes from.
Then he’ll bring our people. Those we can trust to do life with in deep and meaningful ways.
Real with others:
We all need a core group of friends who we can share our pain and also our joys and victories with. At this time in my life, I have a group of women friends who recently lost their husbands and what a relief it is to know we truly understand each other. They have become some of my deepest and best friends. They are my people.
Even Jesus didn’t bear his burdens alone. He was in relationship with God and had a core group of friends that he did life with. If he needed those connections with his Father and others, it should open our eyes to how much we, as fallible people, need them. He’s our best example.
Being real with others means we don’t pretend to have it all together, all the time. Of course there will be levels of what we share with different people. We won’t and shouldn’t share everything with everybody but our people — those we can go deep with — will come into our life when we’re ready to receive that gift. I prayed for that kind of friendship and God answered.
Just like my grandson’s father comforted him, our Father will comfort us and bring the right people into our lives to help in our time of need.
Two verses that have become a prayer for me each night are:
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. Psalm 143:8
In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
And in the morning everything is made new again.
My featured photo is the view of the sunrise from my window while I was writing this piece.
Photo taken on September 2, 2023 – the one year anniversary of Bob’s passing
I conquered many firsts this past year. The first holiday season without Bob, our wedding anniversary, his birthday, my birthday, kid’s and grandkid’s birthdays. A granddaughter’s marriage. Hosting family at our home without his presence. Our second grandson’s birth. Our first grandson turning 3 years old. And the biggest one…the one year anniversary of Bob’s death.
In between the big firsts, there were little firsts. Going to places that we used to go together…coffee shops, hiking trails, restaurants, the lake, visiting friends and family, etc. Being there, going through the motions but not fully present is the only way I know how to describe the fog and void. The second, third, fourth times doing them alone became a little easier but I’d still rather have Bob with me.
Shortly before the anniversary date of Bob’s passing, I was struggling to let go of the past. I can only describe it like reading a book and wanting to go back to all the good chapters instead of moving forward through the story.
Around that time I visited my friend, Bonnie, who lost her husband about 8 months before I lost Bob.
She shared a story about leaving coins on headstones of veterans. I was interested in the story because Bob was a veteran. I listened as she shared the significance of each coin.
Leaving a penny is a way of letting the deceased soldier’s family know that somebody stopped by to pay their respects. A nickel means you and the deceased veteran trained at boot camp together. A dime means you and the deceased veteran served together. A quarter means you were there when the veteran died.
The tradition became popular in the United States during the Vietnam War. It was a way to show respect during a controversial war and to honor the deceased veterans.
Bonnie told me that her late husband would often go to cemeteries of loved ones and leave coins.
I thought it was interesting but didn’t think about it too much until a few nights later when I had a vivid dream.
In the dream, I was visiting the cemetery where Bob was laid to rest. I had several coins in my pocket and wanted to find a veteran’s grave to leave a coin to pay my respects and let their loved ones know that someone had visited.
I stopped at Bob’s grave and then began walking around. In the distance I saw Bob’s oncologist standing by a graveside with a tablet in his hand making notes. Family and friends gathered around and in the middle of their circle was a man in a hospital bed. A young man was standing next to his bedside crying, praying and pleading with the man on the bed to keep fighting.
I glanced over at Bob’s graveside and he was sitting in a chair. He motioned to me to come over, I walked over to him, he handed me a folded note and told me to take it to the young man who was crying and have him read it out loud. I walked back to the grievers and handed it to the young man and asked him to read it out loud as Bob had directed.
The young man opened the folded note and read: “Sometimes it’s better and easier to die than to live here in pain with an incurable illness. You just have know when to let go.”
I glanced back in Bob’s direction and he was gone.
I woke up from the dream in awe.
That dream shifted something deep in my soul and I knew that message was for me.
I’m trying hard to let life unfold now and to enjoy the gifts that take me by surprise in this new chapter instead of going back to all the familiar chapters from the past.
As Donna Ashworth says in her poem, “The Edge” – Chapters end, even the good ones.
Bob will always be part of my story, my life and in my heart. There’s no escaping that and I wouldn’t want to. I’m in a different chapter now and daily the pages turn and I just keep moving forward.
Part of moving forward is resting. God has taken me to the green pastures and still waters spoken of in Psalm 23 and there I have found my faith deepen. I sit quietly reading the Bible and letting God’s Spirit strengthen me. At times grief still comes in waves but life is a little easier without Bob, because I’m never really alone. The Lord is near.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit Psalm 34:18
Memories are becoming gifts when at first they were hard to relive. I’ve been able to frame some favorite photos of Bob and also some of both of us together. Placing them on shelves with other family photos brings comfort and joy to me and I smile rather than feel the intense pain that I once felt when I’d look at his smiling face.
I could easily miss the beauty in each day if I spend too much time wishing for the ones that already happened.
I’m taking small steps forward remembering that just because I’m finding enjoyment in life again, doesn’t mean I can’t remember the chapters of yesterday with Bob and see how they’ve brought me here to this place in my story.
As a young child, I can remember my mother singing through the house as she did her chores. She had the gift of a beautiful voice and she filled our home with it.
I was the oldest and then came my sister, Diane. We were the first two of six children. When she and I were very young, my mother often sang us to sleep at night.
There, on our bed all tucked in after a warm bath, clean pajamas slipped into, our hair towel dried, and prayers said, she sang.
When darkness set in, often thoughts that weren’t there in the daylight hours would surface. Like those unrelenting thoughts of monsters that are common in the imaginations of small children.
I needed a glimmer of light somewhere close by to pierce through the darkness.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17
When I’m tempted to start my day with worry, sadness, frustration or disappointment, I turn my eyes upward and focus on God who is the source of my joy. Then I muster up the will to find the good and perfect gifts throughout the day. They are here but the negative emotions can cloud my ability to see them.
In my grief, I know how important it is to feel my emotions and not bottle them up. I shared a part of my grief journey in A Way Through.
I have a myriad of emotions that rise up in me daily. I don’t stuff them but try hard not to wallow in them either. That has been a choice. It’s a choice that recycles my emotional pain and takes me to positive places in my heart and mind.
The photo above is from Valentine’s Day 2020 … right before the pandemic. It popped up as a feature photo on my phone and my heart dropped. Oh how I miss him, I thought. My emotions began to take me down the rabbit hole of sadness and for longings to have Bob with me again.
But as I looked at it for awhile I put myself back in the picture, sitting across from Bob in the little restaurant called Dr. Rolfs Barbecue.
I remembered the white chicken chili we had for lunch, what we were talking and laughing about and how Bob picked up his straw like he was smoking. I shook my head but he kept making me laugh so I finally snapped the photo with my phone. I’m glad I have it now.
We talked about how we enjoyed the cornbread waffles that they made fresh daily. A small slice was included with each bowl of chili but before that day we had never ordered the dessert waffles. The plate of waffles topped with strawberries and whipped cream that was pictured on the menu caught my attention. Bob said, “It’s Valentine’s Day, let’s order it.” And we did.
After lunch we took a walk through the streets of downtown before going home.
I give thanks for this Valentine’s Day memory.
The memories are a gift. In a world that can often be dark and troublesome, there are still good and perfect gifts everywhere. Sometimes the hard places are gifts too, because they bring us to the Creator of everything perfect and good who helps us through all things.
Go hug a loved one. Count your gifts. Someday they will be wonderful memories to relive and you’ll carry them in your heart forever.
“You will embark,” he said, “on a fair sea, and at times there will be fair weather, but not always. You will meet storms and overcome them. You will take it in turns to steer your boat through fair weather and foul. Never lose courage. Safe harbor awaits you both in the end.” —Daphne Du Maurier
We have met storms and they didn’t overcome us. The promise of a safe harbor kept us going but one of us has reached the safe harbor and one of us is left to navigate the rest of the way alone.
On August 29, 2022, I wrote:Looking for my Rainbow. It was the day after Bob was taken by ambulance to the hospital for the last time.
I said my final goodbye to my beloved husband on September 2, 2022 as he exited earth for his eternal home. He reached his safe harbor. For the last few months I have been slowly learning how to live as ‘me’ instead of ‘we’.
The loss of Bob is accompanied by other losses. Grief has a ripple effect. These are often referred to as secondary losses. The tasks Bob did and decisions he made that he no longer does is a loss. Being Bob’s caregiver, as hard as it was at times, is a loss and I miss it. I grieve his sense of humor, coffee together, deep conversations, driving to and walking in favorite little towns along our lakeshore. Now just driving through our city alone is hard. Memories of our life together here surface and waves of grief come again and again. Today is his birthday and I grieve not being able to make a special dinner and his favorite cake or dessert. I missed greeting him this morning with a kiss and a gift or card. These losses and more take me by surprise but I know it’s all part of healing. Each one must be felt and not buried if I want to move forward.
Mind over matter doesn’t work in the middle of grief. Nor does trying to harness the power of positive thinking. It cannot be willed away. As uncomfortable as it is, grief must be felt. I am experiencing the truth of that… we cannot not grieve when going through loss.
There’s a sweetness in the grief at times and that surprises me too. Tears bring relief and healing. It always helps to just let them flow. I’ve read in several grief recovery books that if grief is bottled up it won’t go away. It will just build up like the steam in a tea kettle until the pressure has to be released and will come out at inappropriate times and in unhealthy ways. We can’t avoid it, push it away, try to mask it or run away from the intense feelings. So I’m taking it slow, easy and letting the process unfold.
I don’t know what I’d do if I was alone in the process. Sons, daughter-in-law, grandchildren can’t take away the void I feel but being with family and sharing memories of Bob’s love and presence in our lives becomes a buffer. It helps all of us. My two sisters have been saving my life. Although they haven’t experienced what I’m going through, they keep in close contact with me and check in on me often. Family has been a soft place to land.
Women who have lost husbands reached out to me and long time relationships with some of them have deepened and new relationships with others are developing. It’s encouraging to be in the company of women who understand each other’s pain. These women are a gift. We are a gift to one another.
The sweetness of grieving is also felt in my relationship with God. Honesty in prayer has opened up a deeper, richer relationship with Him.
He is close to the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3
I dislike the word widow. It’s hard for me to utter the word but with this new status comes something good that I would never want to miss or avoid. My God holds me closer than ever now. It’s his promise to me. He states it over and over again in the Bible and I just learned recently that there are 103 scripture references to widows, revealing the importance I hold in the heart of God. Widows are included with prisoners, orphans — the voiceless — the oppressed–the powerless — and He promises to uphold us and speak for us.
Through all the pain, sorrow and heartache, I have been invited into the arms of my Savior and my God. He is listening, defending and touching my heart and His promises to me hold true.
I wrote the following poem many years ago for a grieving friend:
SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS
In the arms of Jesus
is where your loved one rests
and you can be assured
that’s where he’s truly blessed.
No more pain or suffering
now free from all sorrow
in the midst of singing angels
there is a bright tomorrow.
For all of Heaven’s days are bathed
in the brilliance of God’s light
there’s no more fear of darkness
for in Heaven there’s no night.
Remember, in your deepest sorrow,
you grieve not without hope
and the one who holds your loved one close
is the one who’ll help you cope.
My beloved, Bob, has reached the safe harbor and I am being helped, loved and cared for by the One who welcomed him to safety. Bob reached that distant shore first. Now with confidence in God’s guidance and the memory of Bob alive in my heart, I will move toward that harbor where both of them will someday welcome me home.
Nancy Janiga
1/26/2023
The featured photo was taken on the shores of Lake Michigan
On a not too hot summer day with lots of sunshine and low humidity, we were exploring a quaint little shoreline town. The whole vibe was creative with local artists filling boutiques with one of a kind pieces of art. Resale shops and restaurants lined the bay. Good company, food, fun and laughter filled the day. I was with family … my husband, two sisters, their husbands and my youngest son and his girlfriend. The day couldn’t have been more perfect.
We took a walk on the pier, had lunch on the waterfront, visited a couple more shops and then headed toward the car. As we passed a boutique where I spotted a candle earlier, I told the group that I was going to go inside to purchase it. They said that they’d meet me in the car that was just a few feet from the store.
I walked over to the candle section and noticed the sky getting dark out the side window. What is happening, I thought. The bright blue sky was turning gray quickly. As the lights went out in the store, I followed the other customers to the window. The wind was shaking the little shop. As I looked outside, I saw trees being uprooted by the wind and thrown to the ground, people were trying to run for cover but the wall of rain and wind pushed against them and they began to fall or be lifted up and tossed around like rag dolls. That’s when I saw my family race away in our vehicle. They left me behind. Customers clutched each other and began to cry.
Trying to console them I yelled, “Look for your rainbow! Look for your rainbow!”
I saw light on the the other side of the store, ran toward the windows in that space and I exclaimed, “Look, look!” I turned in their direction, “Come here,” and they ran over to me. Out that large picture window in front of us were rolling green hills, dotted with flowers and birds and butterflies flying about. The sun was rising behind the hills brighter and brighter. Over the sun a colorful rainbow arched over the expanse of the sky.
________________
Look for your rainbow! Look for your rainbow! Look for your rainbow! It was a mantra that I kept repeating as I woke up from that dream in the wee hours of the morning.
It was July, 2017 and a year and a half after my husband’s bone marrow transplant. He would be prepped for open heart surgery soon. I jumped out of bed to get ready to drive to the hospital repeating the phrase, look for your rainbow, look for your rainbow. I held onto the hope that it would come after the storm.
There have been many rainbows to light up our sky in the last 7 years as Bob and I have weathered many storms with his health.
_________________
Last night I drove to the hospital in a literal storm. My windshield wipers were working overtime but with the sheets of rain coming down it was hard to see clearly. With the wind howling, thunder roaring and lightning flashing I prayed behind the ambulance that was transporting my husband to the hospital.
Make a way, Lord. I cannot not see ahead in this literal storm nor can I see my way clear in yet another circumstantial storm. You are my WayMaker, you are our WayMaker. I trust you again and again and yet again.
So here we are. In another storm of life but I am looking for my rainbow and my Abba Father will bring hope out of this seemingly hopeless situation. I’ve seen it before and I’ll see it again. With each storm He has been good to us and He will be good again. That’s His promise. I not only see it in every rainbow after every storm but through the storms.
Pen in hand my words glide across the pages of my journal. I’m always writing but my words don’t always make it to my blog.
I’ve been enjoying the summer, meditating on what’s good and lovely and making space for quiet reflection. It has been worth every moment of pulling away from my computer and my devices that bring me to places of constant information. Most of which isn’t worthy of my attention. Even the news around the world has the potential to enslave and keep me in a trap of darkness where it can seem there isn’t any hope.
A friend of mine said that while chatting with another friend this week they spiraled down the dark side of world news. She told me she finally exclaimed, “No! We can’t do that. We will take action where we can but we need to remain hopeful. We will amplify our happy and remain strong so we can persevere.”
In the past couple of weeks, I’ve found myself spiraling down that same rabbit hole. Thankfully I pulled myself out, as I realized my mind wasn’t in a good place, and planted my feet back on solid ground again.
The daily news and the chaos of social media often fuels our propensity to lash out at anyone who holds a different view or opinion. We no longer live in community with others, trying to understand with the possibility of even learning from one another. The discord has pushed us into a ‘me and them’ mentality and we divide ourselves into tribes. There’s more arguing and less communicating. Wanting to win debates takes precedence over kindness and that can make us look with contempt on anyone who disagrees with us. All this makes me want to escape to a remote island far, far away.
But instead I take walks to the beach near my house. To get there I walk a wooded path and my mind clears, I feel lighter, free and in a better mood.
Years ago after moving to the shoreline of Michigan, I met a friend who told me that going to the beach is full of negative ions and will lift my mood anytime I needed it. Since then I’ve done my own research on negative ions … in nature only … not in the air purifiers that claim to do what nature does. I learned that nature (especially near water or after a thunderstorm) is full of the benefits of negative ions. But that’s a whole different topic. You can do your own research but I’m sure you know the calming effects of nature. It’s worth the walk.
Another activity that’s been saving me from all the noise lately is an online community of women from all over the U.S. and beyond. We are studying the book titled, “Waymaker” by Ann Voskamp.
Using the acronym S.A.C.R.E.D., takes us on a deep dive into what gives us stability and direction…a compass, so to speak, that reorients us in our relationship with God.
S Stillness to Know God
A Attentiveness to Hear God
C Cruciformity to Surrender to God
R Revelation to See God
E Examine to Return to God
D Doxology to Thank God
Stillness. It has been my quest this summer and I have found peace in my sacred place, whether a quiet corner in my home or out in nature, especially my hikes to the beach.
The peace I’m experiencing isn’t the absence of conflict or hardship but the presence of something much greater. It’s Shalom. This Hebrew word, from the Bible, has been translated into the word peace but it’s so much more than that. Shalom is the presence of goodness, thriving, right relationships with God, ourselves, and others. Shalom is living in harmony with all of God’s creation … it’s what God intended. It’s perfect peace.
You will keep in perfect peace
those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in you. Isaiah 26:3
Many years ago, He restored Shalom to me in Jesus. A bringing back to Himself but I must continue to work that out, because I am fickle. I carry with me the human condition and this summer there is more working it out and I will do that for the rest of my life. The working out is never finished this side of Heaven.
This is where I am, what I’ve been up to. Although Shalom can be experienced anywhere, I’m enveloped in it when I let go of any worldly attempts to find it. Stillness has been my soft spot to land, away from the maddening crowd and into the hands of Shalom, because peace isn’t a place but a person.
Pens and Journals 