My parents are coming in to town this weekend, which I'm very excited about. It's always good to have them here. The reason they're coming is exciting too, I suppose. I graduate with my Bachelor's degree on Saturday. It's been a LONG time coming. I did the traditional thing of going to college and living on campus straight out of high school. I loved it and fully expected to graduate in four years. But, as He so often does, God had different plans. I met this really cute guy at the end of my first semester in college. Half-way through my second semester, I was engaged. After completing my sophomore year, I was married and put education on temporary hiatus. It's a decision I have never regretted for a moment.
Nathan always encouraged and supported me in completing my degree. He was a huge driving factor in me finishing this. When the opportunity presented itself in the form of tuition reimbursement through my employer to continue my studies, he simply said, "Why wouldn't you?" So, I (being the cheapskate that I am and making no apologies for it) have taken the scenic route to my degree. I took only as many classes as I could get reimbursed for. Several years later (after which time, most people have letters and titles such as MD or Esquire) I am getting my Bachelor's. C'es la vie. I'm still finishing and I guess I am proud of myself.
But there's definitely a bittersweet element to it. As thrilled as I am that my parents will be here to celebrate it with me, I will absolutely notice who isn't. It will be glaringly obvious who I don't get to hug. I know without question or doubt that Nathan is so proud of me and very much with me in spirit (I always keep him with me, by the way; not just on special occasions.) But it's just not the same. It was one more thing he made me promise I'd finish. And I am keeping that promise. I know he would have made me walk at the graduation ceremony. I really didn't want to. I especially didn't want to, thinking there'd be no one in the audience to care when my name was called. But I know that's not true. The University of Phoenix requested a photo and word or phrase describing each graduate (i.e. "I Am …"). I thought long and hard about a word that I hoped could encompass me, my journey through my education, and my walk over the past nine months. Nate liked good words. Hopefully, he would think this fits: I Am Perseverance.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
No Complaints
Here it is Friday morning. The sun is shining (but it's not too hot.) The birds are singing (ok; they're a little annoying first thing in the morning.) I have all my senses and faculties (some work better and/or more frequently than others.) And I know I am well-loved - by God, by family, by friends. I'm blessed to have opportunities to pour and invest back into the lives of those that love me, whom I also love.
As Memorial Day approaches, I realize how little I have to complain about. Not only because of the precious facts previously mentioned. But because I live in a country where I am free to worship One True God. My opportunities here are almost limitless, thanks to those who serve this country. All politics aside, there is no where else I'd rather live. I am not outcast or tossed aside because I am a woman or a widow. God blessed me with an awesome hubby and has proven His faithfulness to continue to provide for me and meet my every need. No matter what may come, I know I am not abandoned or unacknowledged by Him. What an amazing realization to lean into and rest on! My faith is simple and I guess I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes. But when God reminds me of little things like that, I get pretty excited. Maybe I should realize and recognize all the He is to me and for me 24/7. But He has a way of surprising and reminding me. Sometimes I feel like a little kid who just found out another reason her Daddy is superman. :) Maybe that's what He meant by faith of a child.
As Memorial Day approaches, I realize how little I have to complain about. Not only because of the precious facts previously mentioned. But because I live in a country where I am free to worship One True God. My opportunities here are almost limitless, thanks to those who serve this country. All politics aside, there is no where else I'd rather live. I am not outcast or tossed aside because I am a woman or a widow. God blessed me with an awesome hubby and has proven His faithfulness to continue to provide for me and meet my every need. No matter what may come, I know I am not abandoned or unacknowledged by Him. What an amazing realization to lean into and rest on! My faith is simple and I guess I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes. But when God reminds me of little things like that, I get pretty excited. Maybe I should realize and recognize all the He is to me and for me 24/7. But He has a way of surprising and reminding me. Sometimes I feel like a little kid who just found out another reason her Daddy is superman. :) Maybe that's what He meant by faith of a child.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Anniversary Update
Well, here it is Monday. That means I made it through Saturday. And you know what? It was not as painful as I feared. I definitely did some crying. But I tried to be very deliberate in my day. Before I put feet on the ground to get out of bed, I read the Bible (this is not my standard practice, but I wish it were.) I just wanted to start off the day with God and with worship because I knew it wouldn't be an ordinary day. Of course, if I had any sense I would realize that every day with God is not ordinary. But alas, I have no sense. So I did something unusual which shouldn't be. (And yes, I'm fully aware I am rambling along without making any sense. See above.) Anywho. I took my shower and it was there that it hit me full force. I should be making chicken cordon bleu tonight for our anniversary. I started sobbing. Then, after a few minutes of a good cry in the shower, I quit. I purposed in my mind I was not going to focus on what I did not and could not have. But rather, reflect on the blessings I was granted in the past with my life with Nathan and trust in the goodness and blessings God holds in His hands for my future.
I left to get some work on my hair done. I put my name on the list to get my hair done. I was about half an hour early from when the salon opened. So, I went and grabbed breakfast at McDonald's. As silly as it sounds, I had brought my wedding album along. There I sat in McDonald's, eating breakfast, reading the program and looking at each picture. I could not help but be aware of how much has changed in eleven years. Not just the loss of Nathan, though that was certainly a large part of it. And not just physically, though I definitely look different at 30 than I did at 19. But how much I've grown, changed, and loved. I am (hopefully) a little wiser now than then. I am more sure of not only who I am but whose I am.
Ask anyone and they will likely answer that life did not turn out as they expected. For some, it is better. For others worse. For almost all, it's different. My life is not at all what I expected. But, as I have said before (and will say again) God is still God and life is still good. I took a long walk on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, just enjoying the glorious beauty surrounding me. Then I went home and curled up to watch my favorite movie. Yes, tears were shed. But a smile was on my face as well on Saturday. Love still abides and abounds in my heart. Come what may, I will never regret my life or begrudge what has been lost. I am very aware that I was given, even temporarily, more than many ever are blessed with.
I left to get some work on my hair done. I put my name on the list to get my hair done. I was about half an hour early from when the salon opened. So, I went and grabbed breakfast at McDonald's. As silly as it sounds, I had brought my wedding album along. There I sat in McDonald's, eating breakfast, reading the program and looking at each picture. I could not help but be aware of how much has changed in eleven years. Not just the loss of Nathan, though that was certainly a large part of it. And not just physically, though I definitely look different at 30 than I did at 19. But how much I've grown, changed, and loved. I am (hopefully) a little wiser now than then. I am more sure of not only who I am but whose I am.
Ask anyone and they will likely answer that life did not turn out as they expected. For some, it is better. For others worse. For almost all, it's different. My life is not at all what I expected. But, as I have said before (and will say again) God is still God and life is still good. I took a long walk on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, just enjoying the glorious beauty surrounding me. Then I went home and curled up to watch my favorite movie. Yes, tears were shed. But a smile was on my face as well on Saturday. Love still abides and abounds in my heart. Come what may, I will never regret my life or begrudge what has been lost. I am very aware that I was given, even temporarily, more than many ever are blessed with.
Friday, May 15, 2009
A Difficult Week
The week of May 10th, I knew, would be difficult. First came Mother’s Day. I expected it to be worse than it was. I thought last Mother’s Day would be my last without at least a bun on the horizon if not in the oven. God knew different. I do not know why Mother’s Day wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. Maybe it’s because I did not spend the day with mothers (mine, his, or friends with children.) Maybe it’s because I knew it was a blessing that I was not a single mother or pregnant alone. But probably, no definitely, because God’s grace is sufficient.
Tuesday, we had a quarterly employee meeting at work. As I sat there, listening to wonderful inspirational stories of others, my mood began to darken with the sky as the clouds rolled in. The more time passed, the cloudier my countenance got. I was dreading the evening. There was a memorial picnic hosted by the Hospice organization that had cared for Nathan (and me.) I knew I should go. I knew it would be good for me and probably conducive to my healing. I knew I would enjoy seeing the nurses, chaplains, social workers, and aides that I had grown so attached to and missed seeing over the past few months, assuming they were there. I also knew it would be a difficult thing to attend alone. What if the people I knew weren’t there? I was so afraid it would emphasize my loneliness. But I went. They were all there. All the ones Nathan and I held so dear. It was refreshing and comforting to see them. And it was an excellent reminder to me of the far-reaching impact Nathan had and continues to have. I was repeatedly introduced to people I did not know who worked for Crossroads. The introduction was pretty consistent – “You remember the guy we always talked about, Nathan Green? “ “Oh, yeah!” “This is his wife.” I was so proud to hear those words again. One of the chaplains, in speaking of Nate, said, “It’s not often I get ministered to. He did.” In introducing me to another chaplain and telling them about Nathan, he said, “To say this young man was extraordinary would be a gross understatement!” I could not help but smile. It was such a balm to see how much his life, his faith, his spirit, his personality, his heart, the way he cared for and provided for me, and the way he chose to take his final curtain call still be so influential. They did a balloon release at the end of the picnic, with people writing names or notes tied to the balloons. I chose an orange balloon, Nate’s favorite color. My note was simple. “My Sweet Nate, I miss and love you so much. You are forever in my heart and I am forever yours. Always, Chris.” I don’t mind sharing the note – after all, the balloon will lose it’s helium and someone I’m sure will find and read it. I was married to Nathan too long not to become a bit of a pragmatist. But the sight of all those colorful balloons lifting into the gray, cloudy sky missing and honoring loved ones that have gone before was just precious. And whether they make it to heaven or not, I know the sentiments and words are known by the cloud of witnesses.
Saturday, May 16, 2009 would have been the 11th wedding anniversary for Nathan and me. I’m writing this Thursday night. I do not know how I’ll react on Saturday. I don’t know what I’ll feel. I know whatever it is will be acceptable. I don’t know what I’ll do. But I know what I won’t do – I won’t spend the day alone locked away in my house. I can’t. I’m so conflicted. It feels like it won’t be special because the marriage that day was meant to celebrate no longer exists. But the love still does. And the marriage wasn’t dissolved by anyone’s choice. I certainly know I won’t ignore the day or pretend it isn’t significant. But how does one celebrate a marriage one is no longer in? I suppose I’ll know the answers on Sunday. I know God’ll be in the midst of it. He has a tendency to do that. And I’m so glad. I cling to the reminder that He will NEVER leave or forsake me. So, to say it has been and will continue to be a difficult week would be putting it mildly. To date, it’s been one of the more difficult ones I have had in the past five months. But I survived Mother’s Day better than anticipated. I made it through a stormy, cloudy Tuesday (and I do not mean the weather.) And I know I will somehow make it all the way through Saturday and wake up to a glorious Sunday, a little stronger, a little wiser, and maybe a little sadder in the short term. But joy comes in the morning. That’s what I’m counting on. The joy of the Lord. It’s my strength, my peace, my shelter, my strong tower, my hiding place, my comfort. I’m constantly impressed that the nature of God is truly everything I need and more.
Tuesday, we had a quarterly employee meeting at work. As I sat there, listening to wonderful inspirational stories of others, my mood began to darken with the sky as the clouds rolled in. The more time passed, the cloudier my countenance got. I was dreading the evening. There was a memorial picnic hosted by the Hospice organization that had cared for Nathan (and me.) I knew I should go. I knew it would be good for me and probably conducive to my healing. I knew I would enjoy seeing the nurses, chaplains, social workers, and aides that I had grown so attached to and missed seeing over the past few months, assuming they were there. I also knew it would be a difficult thing to attend alone. What if the people I knew weren’t there? I was so afraid it would emphasize my loneliness. But I went. They were all there. All the ones Nathan and I held so dear. It was refreshing and comforting to see them. And it was an excellent reminder to me of the far-reaching impact Nathan had and continues to have. I was repeatedly introduced to people I did not know who worked for Crossroads. The introduction was pretty consistent – “You remember the guy we always talked about, Nathan Green? “ “Oh, yeah!” “This is his wife.” I was so proud to hear those words again. One of the chaplains, in speaking of Nate, said, “It’s not often I get ministered to. He did.” In introducing me to another chaplain and telling them about Nathan, he said, “To say this young man was extraordinary would be a gross understatement!” I could not help but smile. It was such a balm to see how much his life, his faith, his spirit, his personality, his heart, the way he cared for and provided for me, and the way he chose to take his final curtain call still be so influential. They did a balloon release at the end of the picnic, with people writing names or notes tied to the balloons. I chose an orange balloon, Nate’s favorite color. My note was simple. “My Sweet Nate, I miss and love you so much. You are forever in my heart and I am forever yours. Always, Chris.” I don’t mind sharing the note – after all, the balloon will lose it’s helium and someone I’m sure will find and read it. I was married to Nathan too long not to become a bit of a pragmatist. But the sight of all those colorful balloons lifting into the gray, cloudy sky missing and honoring loved ones that have gone before was just precious. And whether they make it to heaven or not, I know the sentiments and words are known by the cloud of witnesses.
Saturday, May 16, 2009 would have been the 11th wedding anniversary for Nathan and me. I’m writing this Thursday night. I do not know how I’ll react on Saturday. I don’t know what I’ll feel. I know whatever it is will be acceptable. I don’t know what I’ll do. But I know what I won’t do – I won’t spend the day alone locked away in my house. I can’t. I’m so conflicted. It feels like it won’t be special because the marriage that day was meant to celebrate no longer exists. But the love still does. And the marriage wasn’t dissolved by anyone’s choice. I certainly know I won’t ignore the day or pretend it isn’t significant. But how does one celebrate a marriage one is no longer in? I suppose I’ll know the answers on Sunday. I know God’ll be in the midst of it. He has a tendency to do that. And I’m so glad. I cling to the reminder that He will NEVER leave or forsake me. So, to say it has been and will continue to be a difficult week would be putting it mildly. To date, it’s been one of the more difficult ones I have had in the past five months. But I survived Mother’s Day better than anticipated. I made it through a stormy, cloudy Tuesday (and I do not mean the weather.) And I know I will somehow make it all the way through Saturday and wake up to a glorious Sunday, a little stronger, a little wiser, and maybe a little sadder in the short term. But joy comes in the morning. That’s what I’m counting on. The joy of the Lord. It’s my strength, my peace, my shelter, my strong tower, my hiding place, my comfort. I’m constantly impressed that the nature of God is truly everything I need and more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
