When my dear wonderful husband passed away and I found out I would have to move to a smaller apartment, panic and stress set in. I thought I’d have to move in a month or two and I was soooo not ready to do that.
God intervened. God provided. In ways I’ve already outlined in previous blog posts. The two months I thought it would be stretched to almost six months now. I am still emotionally totally unready to do this, but that doesn’t really matter. The move is happening at the end of this week.
I have spent nearly six months crying out to God, pleading, seeking, asking, crying, stressed, anxious, unsure, crying, pleading, praying and …. repeat. I don’t know about you, but I talk about my emotions with God. I tell Him how I am feeling and what I am going through. Of course I know He already knows all this. But I guess I think a relationship with someone that has lasted over 30 years deserves honesty and transparency, and I don’t think He minds a bit that I unload on Him.
I trust God to take care of me. God promises many many times in the Bible to take care of and look after orphans and widows. He certainly has taken care of me long before I became a widow, and I don’t have any doubts that He will continue to do so. But not knowing where you are going to live or how much it will cost is kind of like living under an anvil that you don’t know when will drop. At least, for me it has been like that.
God knows I don’t want to move. God knows all the many faceted reasons why I don’t want to move. I thought I had help lined up, and it fell through and now I’m going to have to pay movers to move me. I’ve moving to the apartment in the building across from me; 10 steps away. And yet I have to pay movers to do that. And yet, because of the discount the property management company has given me these past 5 months (which I have no doubt is the favor of God) I have money saved. I will be carrying most of the things over myself since I’ll have a couple days off and can just do it myself. So I will actually only spend $200, maybe $300 total for the move. Which is cheap!
And so even though I am so emotional over this whole move process, I have no doubt at all that this whole thing is part of God’s plan for me. You can’t seek God and talk to God and ask God to lead you and guide you and direct you without accepting and acknowledging when He is moving in your life, and directing it according to His will. Do I really want God’s will for me? Even if I know it will mean moving and all the things that will entail? Yes. You bet. No doubt. I absolutely do. So I will cry over every box and cry myself to sleep every night, but I will haul those boxes and do the cleaning and fixing and putting away and arranging that needs to be done. Because I have no doubt it is God’s will for me, and He always has in mind for me what is the very best and right. If you remember, please pray for me this week. I need all the prayer support I can get.
A couple of Sundays ago we had a real move of the Holy Spirit at church, and I came away feeling just a tiny bit better as far as my grief goes.
By the grace of God (which I do not deserve) and His blessing (which I also do not deserve) I will be moving to a smaller apartment next month. It is in the same complex I’m in now — in fact, it is 10 steps away from where I live now. My rent will go down $800 a month, which is a HUGE help here in the San Francisco Bay Area. Have I said yet that I don’t deserve this?
When people ask how I am my standard response is “I’m still breathing in and out.” I know, as a Christian, I’m supposed to be saying something like, “Oh, I feel blessed!” or, “I feel good in the Lord today!” or something like that. And I may get there some day. But not today. And probably not tomorrow.
So until then, I keep breathing in and out.
A moon poem and two haikus. It helps take my mind off things. The images were pulled off the internet.
Gaze, frolic, cavort, dream, dance
Full moon moon madness
Gazing out window
Moonlight bathes in glowing light
Moon madness is real
What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the full moon, waking me from slumber.
Drawn, I gaze at the pearly light bathing the trees.
My feet move on their own, outside,
wanting to touch the silvery light.
Dancing, swaying, cavorting,
I am a little mad with full moon madness
SOMETIMES I JUST GIVE UP
Poor widow, her husband died.
Lots of prayers and cards and visits and meals.
A memorial service, phone calls, emails, condolences.
Empty house, empty bed, empty heart.
Keep busy, widow.
Keep working, take care of yourself,
do the shopping, cooking, cleaning …
all by yourself.
Keep busy, widow.
Go outside, talk to people, go to church,
do your hobbies, reconnect with friends,
pet the cats, feed the cats, groom the cats,
do your job; stay busy, busy, busy.
Sometimes … I just give up.
It is just too hard to maintain the façade.
I can’t do it. The grief, the loss is just
Sometimes … I just give up.
I stay home. Don’t drive. Don’t talk to anyone.
I stay in my PJs. I cry, and cry, and cry.
I go back to bed. I immerse myself in a book
or a TV show or stupid computer games;
anything, anything so I don’t have to think
about how much I desperately miss my most
Sometimes … I just give up.
I get so tired of people saying I’m strong.
No, I am NOT strong!
I don’t know what you see, but you
don’t see me if you think I am strong.
My only strength, my only source, is my Lord
God Almighty. I can do nothing without Him.
He wants me to stay, He wants me to carry on.
He wants me to work as if I’m working for Him,
and shine my light for Him and be the best
person I can, for Him.
But sometimes … I just give up.
The news has been so bad lately I hate to look at any web page, check Facebook, or turn on the TV. It hurts my heart, all this violence.
Today I wrote this poem. It was especially hard to wake up from my dream this morning, which inspired this poem.
THAT PLACE BETWEEN DREAMING AND WAKING
Am I still asleep? I feel like I am still dreaming.
I can remember details, and want
to find out
what comes next.
But, the day intrudes.
I hear the fan; I hear the train;
there goes my alarm, and it is not part of my dream.
My dream melds and mingles with the start of my day.
Struggling to climb up from the
soft pleasant wallow of my dream
I hold onto the threads
remembering the details.
Thinking to myself:
I hope I dream that again
I’ve been struggling with grief lately, but I don’t want to bore anyone with that again. Instead, inspired again by a full moon, I wrote a poem.
I awoke. What wakened me?
There was light from the windows
where there should be no light.
Rising, I wandered.
I went from window to window,
the light leading me on.
Where was it coming from?
What did it mean?
What made that light streaming in?
At last – I could see past the trees and houses
to the full moon hanging in the night sky.
Ah, moon! You woke me up with your
shining moonlight. You invaded my sleep
and opened my eyes
so I could stand and look up at you
shining, glowing in the heavens.
How I love the full moon!
A reminder, placed there by God,
that He loves us and watches over us
even when we sleep.
Contented, I returned to my bed
To lay down and dream in moonlight.
I don’t watch any news programs on TV. I much prefer reading the news on the internet or the old fashioned way — in an actual newspaper. Using either of those methods, I can pick and choose what I want to read. I can read as much or as little as I want. AND there are no commercials, since I can easily skip the ads. A news program on the TV doesn’t offer me those choices.
The news from Orlando about the gunman who killed all those poor people has really been on my mind. It was so painful that it took me several days to get all the information on it. The horror and violence of it was just too overwhelming for me to read too much about it at a time. I feel for those people who got injured, and for everyone’s families.
Why? Why? Why? I can’t help but ask myself. Why did the gunman do it? Why would he do it? I don’t understand. I can’t comprehend. It is beyond my intellectual capabilities. I wish I could do something for those folks, for the families, for the first responders, for the gunman’s family.
Lord, help us not forget those injured, and the families of the injured and killed.