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.
“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.
The path I walk daily is familiar. My stride lands on well known ground. It’s the easy way, the calming, breezy way.
My path crosses another familiar trail. I always look to the right down the hilly terrain longing to step that way again but memories stop me.
It’s a harder path, taking more effort to walk the inclines but that’s not what stops me.
The way to the right is the path Bob and I always walked together. My companion and I encouraging each other along the way. Talking about the events of the day. Sorting through tough decisions. Some days joking and laughing as we walked. It was the route we took together for exercise.
We always enjoyed the scenery, the wild life near the creek and the beauty of our surroundings. When we got to the creek, he would stop to see what he could spot. He liked to watch for fish swimming near the surface of the water and turtles wandering close to the edge of the creek. He’d point out the beavers, ducks, swans and geese. I wanted to keep up our pace but he was full of wonder and it was contagious so we often lingered there before continuing our hike.
While out walking yesterday, when I came to that intersection I turned right. I started down the hill on the path we used to walk together but stopped halfway and turned back to the easy path. At the top of the hill, I looked back again. ‘It won’t be easy but you can do it,’ I encouraged myself. I tried again.
Pushing myself to conquer the first incline, I realized how out of condition I was for this path. But remembered, in years past, when winter gave way to spring it was always difficult on the first hike. As we continued to walk that path, it became easier and by fall we walked it with ease.
Yesterday I found it more physically difficult than my usual route but emotionally it was even harder.
Tears I tried to push back welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a deep loneliness. I missed the company of the one who walked this familiar path with me for many years. Thinking back on the times we spent together on our walks, brought bittersweet memories to the surface.
I knew with each step I was walking toward wholeness so I continued on. Not letting the ache dictate what I can or cannot do, I leaned into all my emotions. I felt the feelings and let the reality of what was wash over me. Being present in it is ok. It’s the hard but healthy way. ‘I can’t let this undo me,’ are words I say often.
Even in the middle of the hard I experienced something good.
Finally after a late start to spring, everywhere I looked I saw pops of color.
Sadness and joy can coexist. I let both ebb and flow. First one and then the other.
When I returned home, I gave Bob his breathing treatment.
While he finished the treatment, I blended a smoothie for him. Smoothies seem to be a good and nutritious choice to increase his calories as his appetite decreases. I handed him the smoothie and he put the tv on.
We’ve been recording the second season of “Searching for Italy” with Stanley Tucci and we watched the 3rd episode. We always hoped to visit Italy someday so we are truly enjoying the scenery and culture of our ancestral land.
Bob hasn’t lost his wonder. He points out little details in the scenery that I sometimes miss in this series.
We still talk, discuss serious and not so serious situations, joke, laugh and pray together.
I’d like this all to be a little easier but there’s still good, growth and conditioning happening on this hard way…just like there is on the harder walking path. The conditioning is preparing me for all the other hard places that may come my way in the future. I can endure, push through with God’s grace, and not allow any of it to become my undoing.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4;13
What have you learned or grown from while traveling down a hard road?
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
There’s a lot going on. I’ve been reeling from the messy/busyness of life lately.
I found myself making mental notes and trying to figure out a plan of action for the next few months. The only problem was it happened at 3:00am in the morning.
Finally after tossing and turning for awhile, I got up and jotted my thoughts down on a piece of paper. I managed to get about 4 hours of sleep…maybe 3, who knows? It was a rough night.
At 6am sitting in my quiet home, I realized I was not just trying to set goals and put everything in order during those wakeful hours. It was more like mulling over the what, where, when, ifs and everything that could happen and how I would handle it all. I thought I needed a plan ahead of time and wanted to be prepared.
Bob got up and I said, I can do a lot but I can’t do everything.
He said, “I really don’t know how you’re doing it all now. I couldn’t do what you’re doing. Let me pray for you.”
I was deeply humbled by his words. This man who has endured so much on his long and complicated medical journey, who has been on the receiving end of countless prayers was reaching in my direction to help me. But that’s nothing new. He often does that for me and others as well.
Bob gave me a gift. It was the gift of being seen, known and heard. He gave me permission to be human. It was something I needed that morning and a big weight seemed to drop from my shoulders as he prayed for me. Ahh…the grace of God.
My fretting through the night (over what may or may not happen in the future) was hindering the gift of grace I needed at that moment. Trying to receive God’s future grace doesn’t work. That gift doesn’t come early.
I think of my friend, Bonnie, who lost her husband recently. She told me that the only way she can make it through this difficult season is by just taking one small step at a time and not look at the big picture. In her words … “I am learning that one day or even one hour at a time is much more doable. It’s too hard to think very far ahead.”
Living in the moment. I know it’s the best way to get through any day. I don’t have to worry about the future because God is already there. I don’t need to have everything figured out. He already does and there will be grace waiting for me to meet every challenge. These are words I often share with others but needed to speak them to myself again that morning. I reminded myself of all the times grace met me during past challenges.
Then later that day, I went outside for a walk thinking it would help clear my mind of any leftover intrusive thoughts. As I started down my driveway, I remembered a quote that I heard recently:
“To a man on a mountain road by night a glimpse of the next 3 feet of road may matter more than a vision of the horizon.” C.S. Lewis
On my 45 minute walk, I focused only on the 3 feet in front of me. Keeping my mind fixed on the moment, not trying to focus too far ahead or think about anything beyond the present.
As I walked, I saw thin blades of green grass poking through the soil. I heard birds singing, children playing and I greeted neighbors with a friendly hello as they passed by.
When I got home, I walked through my yard and noticed that my crocuses were blooming. Their delicate, soft lilac colored petals whispered hope.
My tiny crocuses didn’t labor or spin. The passage from Matthew 6 :25-34 about worry came to mind. Just as my Heavenly Father takes care of my spring blooms, He will take care of me.
Peace returned with an assurance that I would have what I needed with each step I took that day and in the future. God’s grace met me as my attention shifted from all the messy stuff of life to what was happening right in front of me.
I don’t know exactly where I’m going. I can’t see the horizon but I know God is with me now and He’s in the future ready to help me handle the next 3 feet when I get there. His gift of grace is waiting for me. It will be right on time.
God’s grace in the next 3 feet. It’s all I need and it’s always enough.
…the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus , it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy. Isaiah 35:1
I’m waiting for my crocuses to bloom. It should be any day now. They are the first bloomers in my yard. I can always depend on them to make their appearance by the middle of March. Spring holds so much hope.
Saturday was a glorious day. Knowing we were nearing the end of the cold season, hope started rising up in me.
I walked outdoors. My sun kissed cheek lifted toward the sky. My eyes focused on the blue sky around the sun and I inhaled deeply finally breathing out a big sigh of relief. This winter-weary soul was ready to enjoy the 58 degree weather even if it was just for one day. The forecast revealed that It would turn cold again with snow flurries within 48 hours. I wasn’t going to let the day end without enjoying it.
I traded my walk on the treadmill for a nature walk and I was almost giddy with joy with each step that I took.
The trees are still bare, small piles of snow still litter the landscape but I could see grass and hear birds singing and that was enough to make me hopeful.
Even though not much is blooming or growing yet, I know that there’s something happening beneath the earth. In that darkness, bulbs are sprouting and getting ready to push their way through the ground. Acorns are turning into oak trees. Perennials are being nourished in the dark wet ground as their roots grow deeper. Preparations for the growing season are happening in places that we can’t see.
What appears to be dead is only resting, waiting and gaining more strength. Soon flowers will bloom. The brown grass will turn green. New birth; new growth will come again.
I think that’s why I love spring so much. It holds so much promise after a long winter.
Its similar to our Spiritual life after we go through a winter of the soul. It happens to all of us, in one way or another, in this broken world.
In the harshest of times when we’re in the wildernesses of a life experience, we can always be assured, though it’s dark and nothing seems to be growing, something is always happening.
In those dark places, just beneath the surface, that you and I cannot see, there is growth occurring and someday at just the right time it will sprout and we will notice it. Where there was once sadness, joy will return like a little seed growing in our soul. We may notice that we have more wisdom, courage, less fear, more faith, less negativism, more hope, less selfishness, more compassion … we are blooming in ways that couldn’t happen without the winter.
If we’ve prepared, cultivated, grown, bloomed, watered and nurtured the new growth, we may be surprised when the next winter of our soul appears. We may even ask the question, “How can something so cold and harsh happen again?”
Remembering that gardens know how to withstand harsh winters and that life is still growing under the snow is a helpful reminder that we too will survive another soul winter.
We’re always growing, becoming better but winter still comes to those flourishing places that we tended to in the past. Maybe lessons learned are growing deeper, roots are taking stronger hold, making us sturdier and stronger in our faith. We don’t see what is happening beneath the surface but something good is always happening in the winter.
Whatever the outcome, winter has its purpose and spring with all its new growth and flourishing always comes again.
Pens and Journals 