From Riches to Rags, and the Glory I Found There

Some days my instincts override the logic of my brain and I find myself unwillingly overwhelmed with emotions. My heart hurts.  Last week I drove by a motorcyclist who wore a protective jacket similar to John's and, before I could steel my heart against it, memories flooded into my mind. Days when I waved him off to work or off to an elder's meeting, hours we rode together on his bike, stickers we put on our helmets, the day I finally agreed to let him get a motorcycle. John had an elder's meeting the morning he was killed. That's why he rode his bike, because it was one of the few times he could on a usual basis, and he loved it so much. I had skipped church because I had a broken heart. Our first IUI treatment cycle had failed, and my heart hurt. I didn't want to have to face everyone yet, I didn't want to have to break the news to everyone yet. So, I stayed home, in a completely and terribly mundane way.  We talked right before he got on his bike to head home

I want to embrace the life I live now, and not consistently long for the life I once lived or for a life I dream of.  John is no longer my partner. He is no longer my confident. He is no longer my protector. He is no longer my spiritual head. He exists in the most beautiful parts of my past, but he is unable to exist in my future. And I am left to accept the true brutality of empty arms.  To accept the fact that a man did not rush into my life the moment I was ready for one (how rude). To accept the fact that I am a single mother to a preteen who doesn't always like me.  I hate describing the loneliness that is widowhood and single motherhood. I don't want to sit here, in my blessed life, and make it seem like grief and loneliness is the only story I have to tell. But it is still a very real part of who I am...and I have always tried my best to share all the gory details of my beautifully broken story.  When I am weak and feel like I cannot manage this life alone, there is no o

I sometimes worry that I am not enough for her. My daughter hasn't had a permanent home in all of her 12.5 years. Unforeseen circumstances in each of her previous homes made permanency impossible.  And she felt given away, felt cast aside, and felt like she couldn't believe in love. As a result, she closed off her feelings to the world, forced the tears to remain uncried, kept her smile only surface deep, and in her own words, never told anyone that she loved them.  When I first heard about her, and the initial excitement faded, I just kept thinking...what if I am not enough? What if I am taking her away from the possibility of being a part of a whole home with a mom AND a dad, instead of the broken one I've pieced together that only consists of me? Was it selfish to throw myself into the position of motherhood without the benefit of a partner? When we all know that two parents are better than just one? I decided early on that, in order for her to be able to reconnect with

I stopped longing for John. I didn't realize that that was something that would truly happen. I cannot begin to express to you the guilt that sometimes supersedes relief when your soul accepts that there is no longer hope in longing for your late spouse.  Because I haven't just stopped longing for him, I have also been longing for a different partner to exist in my future. I don't want to live the rest of my life without the intimacy and love that I know can exist in a godly marriage. I don't want my daughter to never know the love of an earthly father who chooses to keep her forever. In all the support and love that we have in our family and our community, there is no substitution for a husband and a father, tangibly felt in an earthly presence. And when I tell you that it is hard. I want you to truly understand that depths of that.  It is hard to do things in my life that people do not agree with or are not ready for. There is no winning in grief, there is only accept