Decisions- decisions

I've been struggling with this decision making process. I'm just not accustomed to doing this alone. I was always able to say, "let me talk it over with my husband". Only now, I can't. I'm sitting here knowing that I have decisions upcoming that I am going to need to decide, but I keep putting it off.

 On the afternoon that I found out that my husband had passed away, I sat there in the lab at work for nearly twenty minutes with my manager asking if she needed to drive me home or in the very least follow me. I made the decision that no, I was fine. I didn't need for her to go out of her way, I didn't have far to go, I'd be fine. I drove home in a state of shock, my mind going ninety, and not going at all. I was trying to decide how I was going to tell my family, when my family already knew. That decision was taken out of my hands.

 There was a lot coming at me from any and every direction. A lot of concerned people asking questions, trying to find out how to get my husband's earthly body home, all of the things that was necessary but confusing. A friend told me about a group that handled situations such as mine, I had talked with the company my husband worked for, but not fully understood what they were telling me. My not comprehending had me making a decision that I probably would not have made, not have needed to make, but did. As it was, my making the decision that I did, left more money to put toward the funeral.

 Once I knew that his earthly body was finally here (after a week and a half) we had to decide how he would be dressed, and his casket. I asked his daughter and my sister-in-law to go with me and help me. I wanted to make sure there was no misunderstandings. Together, we decided on his clothing, dress slacks and a pull over shirt, the clothing that we were so used to seeing him in. The casket was a gentle shade of blue. It turned out to be the best choices.

 I had to decide on his services, who to ask to be pall bearers, what songs, who to ask to speak. The choices were not difficult in who, everyone I asked was more than willing to speak, most more than willing to help with the pall bearing responsibility. Physical limitations stopped some, one had to work, another just couldn't. I understood. The songs were more difficult, he loved the old gospels and there are so many good ones. I finally decided and between me, the pastor of our church and the funeral director we had everything set in motion. I had decided that out of all of our options, that he would be buried in our church cemetery.

 One by one, these decisions were made, either me, or me with help making the choices. How I have prayed over these things. How I have prayed since his passing.

 But, I still have so many different things to make choices on. How am I going to take care of this? How am I going to handle that? Should I do this, or go there, or wait?

 It was amazing that this morning, on the radio station that I've been listening to, there was a message shared by Dr. Charles Stanley on being positive in decisions and how to go about making Godly decisions. There I was, trying to get ready for work and taking notes as quickly as I could. He only gave half the message this morning, the rest will be tomorrow morning. It took my breath away, that here I was, trying to find out if God was hearing me in my prayers on this question, and then this is on the radio. So, He is listening and He is letting me know the best way, the only way to go about knowing the decision I'm seeking and deciding on, will be the right one.

 I will be so glad, when all of this is taken care of, when there will be no more decisions of this sort that have to be made. When my biggest concern will be whether I need to wear a sweater or not, or what to prepare for supper.  The power of prayer, is mighty indeed, and I know, that as long as I follow the will of God, then all of the decisions will be the right ones.

Love so Deep

 You didn't often vocalize your love. You yelled when angry. You cussed when frustrated. You gave the silent treatment when you felt it justified. You found it difficult though, to say those three words out loud. You would say it on occasion, which made it that much more special, but you did something that made the speaking part of it less important, you showed it. You lived that love, and that spoke louder than any words ever could.

 You showed it, by doing a job that was in no way easy. You, who was accustomed to being home every day, who knew exactly what you were going to do when, had to make great changes. When the place you worked shut down, and you had to find other employment, that lack of a high school diploma made that nearly impossible. That was when you had to make a decision that took you from everything you knew, and everything you were accustomed to and put you into an entirely different world.  Your home became an eighteen wheeler and your place of business was the entire country. You went from being home every day, to being home once a month, more only if your runs took you close to home.  You did it, so you could provide for us. So that we could remain in the lifestyle that we knew, the place we were comfortable. You did it, so bills would be paid, food could be bought and maybe, when the dollars were there, we could do something fun. You sacrificed home time, for us, because of your love for us.

 You showed it, by the things you would do when you were home. The things you would repair or help repair. The things that you would take care of outside, mowing lawns or cutting weeds. You did it, by helping with getting the trash hauled away. Actions.

 You were not one to speak, but you knew how to buy. When the money was there, if I wanted a flower, or needed a new dress, you would get it without question. You would go for take out food, and bring me back a pie, or if you made a run to town, you brought back a candy bar for me. Because you loved me.

  You didn't have the greatest sense of humor, but you put up with mine, and you were learning. It was amazing and exciting when you would allow that humor to show. I don't know how many times James or I would say something that you either didn't know how to take, or would simply look as us as if we had lost our mind, but then there were times, when you would smile. Some comment, some joke, some silly act, had touched that funny bone and create that smile. Those times when I was taking pictures and you grew weary of the camera pointing at you and you would make one of those faces at me. But you didn't tell me to stop, because of that love.

  You teased me about my love of hats, but you tolerated my wearing them. You commented on my solar light collection, but you helped me add to the growing light show. You loved watching television in bed but many nights you would turn the television off and go in the other room so I could sleep when I had to get up for work the next morning.

The list could go on and on, but I just wanted it said, that even though you rarely said it, you showed it, every single day, in the only ways you knew how. You lived it.

Still Being Used

Hi Hon...

  I went to church tonight, yeah, I know, that is something I haven't been doing very often I know. They were talking this morning about how they felt it was important for us to be there and that the staff was going to share some things that was on their minds. Things that they had been praying about. To be honest, I wasn't planning on going, but through the day I felt that I should be there. I waited until the last minute to start preparing supper so that maybe I could use that as an excuse not to go. But supper got ready, I got ready and with only fifteen minutes to get there, I left for church. When I arrived I saw that there was already a good many people there.

 When it got underway, each staff member took a turn and got up to speak. They were very honest in what and how they were feeling. How they felt as if they had allowed other things to prevent them from doing what they ought to be doing. They were doing their jobs, but were not doing what as Christians we are called to do, share love and share the Gospel. Each had their reasons, none of which they were proud of.

 Afterwards there were individuals who shared what was on their minds, shared their experiences. I remained in my seat and I remained quiet, but the words were churning inside.

 You know I believe that we each have at least one gift, some have many, but we all have at least one. I believe that we are to use those gifts to the best of our ability. After listening to everyone tonight, I feel as if I have, but yet have not. And you my love, are a part of that. For as long as I can remember, I've loved to write. From the moment I was capable to stringing sentences together, I was writing. I've been writing a good bit since you left, most of it about or to you. I believe, that those writings can be, and have been a manner of using that gift and sharing more than just my missing you.

 Many people know of our Christianity, I think many may be reading, just to see how I will react to certain things. Your loss, the things dealing with getting your earthly body home, the financial struggles, the frustrations of every day stuff, the missing you... the list goes on. Thinking that, I have to be careful in what I write, but yet I want to write from the heart. I think that, even though you're gone, you're still being used in a sense. Your life and your death is a tool and a doorway to expressing and sharing not only how I feel, but how God is sustaining me through this process and journey.

 People have been praying for me and James since they heard. Those prayers have been answered in a mighty way. When I have felt alone, when I felt a sadness so deep I thought I was drowning, when the darkness felt overwhelming, I felt His presence and His comfort surrounding me. Through the darkness, I saw His light, guiding me. When I felt weak, and I have felt weak often, He has been my strength.

 When you left, many people gifted us financially. It has been a great blessing as it has kept us able to pay bills without concern as we wait for insurance settlements. I know, your first thought was that we would never be able to pay them back, but hon, you miss the point of being blest while being a blessing. Those who gave gifts, don't expect repayment, their rewards are in Heaven and will be great.

 People have asked if there is anything they can do for us. Even today, nearly two months after your passing, someone asked me that. I still don't usually know how to answer that question, but considering who asked, I gave them an actual answer. Oh, and there may be someone who can come by one day and help get your flagpole up. I just need to find the post hole diggers and a weird shovel that he said was needed.

 My point in all of this is just that, even though you are already there in Heaven, God is still allowing me to use you to further the knowledge of Him. I can share how He has sustained me, I can share how He has given me a peace that surpasses all understanding-- even and especially mine. I have felt His forgiveness in the guilt I have felt during this storm. I felt that maybe if I had done this or that or been a better this or that, then maybe.. It is giving people a chance to be a blessing for us and me able to share in the only way I currently am able, with words. I have never felt comfortable speaking, I get all tongue tied, but writing, I'm very happy hiding somewhere and putting word to print. I can say my heart and hopefully be clear.

 I love you Hon and I do miss you, and I thank God every day that He is allowing me to use you to share His love, His hope, His peace, His forgiveness.

Just wanted to talk...

 Hey Honey,

    When the mail finally ran today there was a letter inside that would have made you smile. It was a statement saying that the last payment on that loan is smaller than the amount automatically withdrawn, so they are lowering the auto amount so as to not over charge us. Finally, that will be done. I know that you said that once that was paid off then we could afford another car for me, but well, my baby still runs well enough to get me where I need to go, as long as I don't push her too hard or too far.

 Life is so different now. I'm really trying so hard to keep going, but it isn't easy. Things that were so common place before, are difficult. I want to be able to go on, just as I once did, but that's simply not possible. Its as if I'm in some alternate universe and I'm trying to find my way but there are no street signs or directions. Just this huge labyrinth that keeps sending me into dead ends and false hopes. Even something as simple as grocery shopping has me walking in a state of sadness because I should be looking for something that you would like, but instead I'm buying ingredients for vegetable meals and green tea. The green tea is not bad actually, you might would have liked it. I've been making it here rather than buy that brand we were getting for James, its cheaper this way and I can control the sugar content.

 I've got most of the stuff together for the meeting with the clerk of probate. I keep wondering if I ought to take extra stuff, just in case. Take it with me, but only bring it out if its needed. I keep hearing you asking me why I don't already have it all together and ready, even though the meeting isn't until May 9th.

 James hauled the trash off today. I told him that we really needed to finish getting the garage cleaned out, but that would take several more trips to the landfill and you know how difficult it is to get James to go to begin with. I worry about snakes though. This is probably going to be a bad year for snakes, especially copperheads. I've heard of quite a few people seeing and killing them. Dad even called up here late the other night, remember? Warning me to be careful that they saw a copperhead down by the building.

 I'm keeping up with the drivers from Abilene. I don't say too much any more. It feels odd. I don't want anyone to take it wrong when I speak. One of the drivers was in Gastonia not too long ago.  I did speak to them, and they responded and all, but it felt strange. I know that you didn't care when I spoke to people and I always told you, and told you what we discussed. You really didn't have much interest in any of this online stuff though. You didn't care as long as it didn't cost anything and as long as I remembered our vows. Even though you're not here now, it still doesn't seem right. So I leave the conversations short.

 You would have laughed at me today. I was looking for a receipt, I went out to the car and was searching. I didn't find the receipt, but I did find a milk chocolate bar that had been in there for a while. You could tell it was completely melted. I could hear you asking me, didn't I remember it was in there?" Apparently not. But not being one to waste chocolate, I brought it inside and put it in the fridge. I'm not sure I'll eat it, but we'll see. Speaking of the explorer, can you believe we've had that thing for 15 years? That's a record for us.

  James and Bella scared me today. When I first went out to look in the car, I realized that I didn't see Bella. I thought James had gone on to the landfill and I was afraid that Bella might have followed him. I called for her, then went in the house to make sure she was not in here, she wasn't. I went back out and called louder, James answered me, he had her. He was down at mom's. He came around the corner of the house with her and told her to go home. She came like a shot. James pulled the truck back up to the house and explained that she had jumped int he truck and he took her for a ride to mom's. He could have just told me first..but you know, she does love to ride.

 Ah well hon, as you love to remind me, its getting late and I do have church to go to in the morning. I'm going to say goodnight, I miss you and I love you. I have another vase and some flowers to bring to you in the morning..I'll see you then.

 

 

Alone

Hey Honey,

Yesterday I read an article about a young woman who was involved in a single vehicle accident. Somehow, she lost control of her vehicle and left the road hitting a tree. Her vehicle caught fire, most of her clothing was burned away, but somehow she got out of the vehicle. I'm not sure whether she got out on her own or was helped out. I mention this, because of what happened next. A truck driver stopped and stayed with her as they awaited transport to a hospital. Reportedly he kept saying something about she was just a baby, the article said she was twenty-five. Her injuries were so severe that she did not survive. The article said that her family members are looking for the truck driver who stayed with her, they want to thank you for making sure she wasn't alone in her final moments. That is the reason I mention this, she wasn't alone.

 I feel so badly, this brought the tears and the hurt back to the surface again. No one was with you. They found you, in your truck, slumped over and alone. Physically alone anyway, and that breaks my heart that when it came your time to leave us, no one was with you.

 That time in Georgia, when the paramedics said you were so close to death when they found you, but they were with you and they got you quickly to a hospital. I was going so crazy trying to find out something, anything about what was going on. All of those new privacy laws were making it impossible until a friend contacted me and got their pastor to go to the hospital. James and I were packing, ready to head that way when you said don't come. But you weren't alone.

 That time your oxygen levels got so low here and mom took you to the doctor. The doctor called for an ambulance, and mom waited with you. I was at the hospital before you got there, so you once again, were not alone. As soon as the person there called my name, I was up and following them back to where you waited for treatments.

 On March 7th, no one was with you. You were parked in a truck stop in what might as well have been a million miles away, when you were called home. I had spoken with you that morning. I had spoken with you often over the weekend, you felt so badly and thought you were coming down with the flu, or even pneumonia. You had thought if you could just rest over the weekend, that you would feel better, but you didn't and you wanted to come home. You had spoken with your dispatcher and he was searching for a load that would get you here. Both of us had spoken with you around nine that morning. Then suddenly, no one could reach you.  It was around 11am, that you were found, alone in your truck, slumped over, already gone. The one who found you, called for help, they tried, but it was too late.

It bothers me, that you were physically alone. It hurts, that you left us, with no one by your side. That you were so very far away. It pains me deeply, when I think of this, and I think of this often.

 Even as I understand, that it is only physically that you were alone, even as I understand, that there were probably angels at your side, guiding you toward the glorious gates of Heaven. Even as I believe, that family members who have left us before, were there, waiting to welcome you, it still hurts. I know, that you closed your eyes here, and opened them there, in Heaven's glory, I know, that our Lord and Savior was there to welcome you home. All of this I know, and it does comfort me, and I do pray about the pain and guilt I feel that I didn't say to you, when you first complained about being sick, to come home. That we would get you to the doctor. I did not tell you that, I didn't stop you from just taking that weekend break so far away. So you left us, alone. And your being alone, is the hardest thing to take.

 The praise in this, is that you were parked, that big truck was not driving down the roadway anywhere, meaning that no one else was in danger. Should you have been called home while driving down the highway, that could have been disastrous. The praise in this, is that I know, you are no longer suffering. I know, that you can breathe easily again, that you don't hurt and can do all of the things that you once were able to do easily.  You said often, that you would give anything if you could breathe again, well, you did. And while this would still hurt, it might not hurt quite as badly if only you had been home.

 I hope that family finds that truck driver and are able to thank him. I hope that the good folks at Abilene told the driver who found you, that I said thank you. I pray, that at some point, I can get past this sadness in myself, over your being alone.
 I  miss you and I will always love you..

Writing, Sharing, journaling, healing....

    Before you left, I was listening to a faith based radio station. I have continued to listen only now I have it on every radio I listen to. Even in the car it has replaced that oldies station. The music and the message have helped me immensely as I walk through this. Last night, there was a confirmation that something I am doing is right. There was a small segment on keeping a gratitude journal. I'll be the first to admit that my writing has not been all gratitude, but the gratitude is and always has been there.  How could it not be, considering the way we have been blessed?

   Last night I found a small hardbound journal and started writing down the things I was thankful for that day. I had no idea, that there was so many small things that added up to almost a full page. I left the book beside my rocker in the bedroom, waiting there, pen beside it, for me to sit down tonight and add the next page of gratitude. I think, even the small things are important. If we don't take note, those things may slip away, seemingly unimportant and not worthy of remembering, but they are. They are because they are each a step forward, as the rungs in a ladder take us up, so do the small things, encourage and build us. Each one, can be that nail in a constructed life of thankfulness.

  I've been writing and sharing a lot here online since you left. The words bleed from my heart onto the page. The emotions are here but that means, they aren't bottled up inside, causing who knows what harm. There are times that it is the same emotions, the same things eating at my spirit, attacking and trying to tear me down. I'm making it though, but it is because my strength is not mine.

  Another segment on the station was talking about being the salt of the earth and having an impact. Discussing how we could lose our effect just as salt can lose its flavor. Thinking about it, I realize that there are a lot of things I do not do, but along with the do not, there are the things to do. Salt by itself is only an ingredient in a bottle, it does nothing for food, it helps nothing, just sits there in a bottle. Its the same with us, if we don't interact, if we don't share and become a part of life, we do no good for any one or any thing. We are just a life confined. We have to step forward and be a part, but we have to be a right part. Salt loses its flavor due to contamination, it is important that we not contaminate our life. Others are watching, they see what we do, hear our words, see the things we laugh at or don't. It was said that we will never know our full impact, how we flavored life and that fact is not important. We shouldn't worry about numbers, just being the salt, being the light, by using the gifts and talents we have been given.

So I write. I've been writing for as long as I can remember. The words flow forth and I write. The words may not always be good, they may never win me awards or large sums of money, but that is unimportant. These words, I hope bring a bit of reassurance, bring a bit of understanding, bring a bit of peace to a troubled heart. As I write and share the feelings of loss, the feelings of confusion, the feelings of grief, I hope that someone can also see the healing. I hope that as I share, someone can see the source of my hope. I hope, that someone can realize that that same source, can be theirs as well. So I write, I share, I journal everything and I heal....

one day, one step, one breath, one prayer at a time

 

You Would have Thought

I'm not sure what I want to say. What is it, that is on my mind, wanting to be said, or maybe needing to be said,  but is just a scrambled up, jumbled up, tangle of words that I'm not sure I can coherently express.

You would have thought, that I would be accustomed to being alone. After all, you spent more time out on the road hauling freight across the country than you did at home. You, yourself said that you didn't live here, you only visited. You were home one weekend a month. There was always way too much that needed to be done, and always only a part of it was accomplished.  You wanted to rest and spend time with us as much as possible. You wanted to give attention and get attention. You wanted to annoy, to boss, to love. All too soon, it was time to pack up and load up your stuff into the truck. We would help you get everything ready, laundry washed, folded and packed up ready to go. Your groceries all in the car ready to take to the truck, coffee made, good-bye kisses, a last hug and that diesel engine would roar to life. I hated watching you leave, even as I did it nearly every chance I got. There were times that I couldn't watch, and I would come back to the house, just to stand on the porch and listen as you pulled away. The house would be so cold, so quiet, so empty, without you. In more ways than one, you filled this house. As soft spoken as you were, your voice when you wanted, would carry through the house and echo off the walls. You could be quiet as a mouse with laryngitis, or as noisy as a raging herd of elephants stampeding across sheets of bubble wrap. You could decide in the space of a heartbeat what you wanted to eat at home, and take what seemed like forever to decide if we went out, even though you should have known that menu by heart.

 You would have thought, I would like the quiet. You would have thought but you and I would have both been wrong. This is a different quiet. This is a, he's not ever coming back, quiet. Its the quiet that says, get used to this, its your new normal. Never again, will there be laundry, groceries or anything else to do in preparation for leaving. Never again will we be greeting that big rig, Sweet Lady Green. The truck that carried you back and forth, the truck that carried you across the land, keeping you safe from elements, giving you a place to sleep, protecting you from unsavory folks, holding you, after you passed, until someone could come. Sweet Lady Green, who will not be back, because you won't be back. There's no one to argue with now over the television being on in the bedroom, when I'm needing to call it a night and you're not ready. How many nights, that I didn't have to worry over these things, but thought nothing of it, now, I do because now, its different. Now, you're not coming back.

 I went out late this evening, just before it got too dark, just as the solar lights were coming on and wandered around the yard. I looked at the seeds that are coming up, wondering if they are flowers or weeds. I noticed that some of those pink ones that I planted years ago are blooming. I was happy to see them as I thought they had all died. I wandered around, looking, but not really seeing. Hoping that I didn't wander up on a snake. I didn't.

 It just feels, empty. There's just something missing now, something so different. I keep trying to get past the feelings, but so far that hasn't been possible. They are always there, always with me, always ready to strike and remind me yet again, just how much I miss you. Every time I have to take a step, act on something, do something else that has to do with your passing, it is a reminder. I have made the appointment with the people to probate your will. Nice lady, was very encouraging, said that we could most probably do this easily without going through full probate since everything but your truck was in both names. I had heard some real horror stories, so the conversation was a great relief.

 The quiet, is deafening. The silence, itself fills this place, silence echoes off the walls, and threatens to drown me.

 But I'll sit in your chair, on the porch for a moment, I'll watch the lights and throw sticks for the dog. I'll listen to the critters of the night as they start moving. I'll think about you, about how you tried so hard to take care of us. I'll think about how you would push yourself beyond where you should, how you refused to even contemplate disability, how you fought, right up until the very end. You died, trying to provide for us. I get angry at myself for not being there for you. I get frustrated thinking that there should have been some way, some manner that we could have taken care of things, got things paid off, saved more, spent less. That there should have been something different, then maybe you would still be here, yawning way too loudly, pecking on the door frame, taking too long to order at the Cracker Barrel, asking the check out people at walmart to keep your cold stuff separate. But then, maybe, even if we had owned no one, even if we were totally debt free and retired and roaming, you would have still left as you did. All I can do, is trust in the Lord, is to know you are safe with Him and healthy once again.

 I'll sit in the quiet, and I'll listen for the reassurance that will come from Him, that all will be well, just wait, believe and trust.