Crying in Church

If you know me well, you know that I hate to cry in public. It's just something I try to avoid. Consequently grieving in public is sometimes hard. One minute you're fine, then you bump into someone you haven't seen since the funeral, and...either they cry or you do. It's unavoidable.

I expected the holidays to be a bit of a challenge this year, with Robert gone, but I also knew that nothing would lift my spirits (and perhaps prevent the dreaded public tears) more than remembering my Savior and the gift of His birth, so I jumped right in. In fact, I almost couldn't wait to get going! I started setting nativities out. I did. And the Christmas music, I started that too. And it helped... I found great peace in arranging the nativity figures, thinking about Jesus' birth and all the while planning Christmas activities with grand kids.

But, I didn't want to skip Thanksgiving, in fact I wanted to be sure I gave thanks daily and focused on my blessings. I knew that would lift my spirits as well....and it did! I found joy in thinking of the many people in my life whom I loved and loved me. I found joy in small things and big things. All of this lifted my soul. I sailed right through Thanksgiving Day without too many tears. I was pleased..."I'm doing ok," I thought.

One of my favorite songs is Grateful by John Bucchino (I have a blog post about it), I found myself singing the song over and over in my head. I realize now that I never quite made it through the line about, "I feel a Hand holding my hand, it's not a hand you can see, but on the road to the Promised Land, that hand will shepherd me." I surely have felt the Shepherd's hand...and here I am, setting up sheep in nativity sets! The scriptures teach that giving thanks for all that we do have, even in difficult times, will bring us closer to our Heavenly Father. Maybe thats what happened, maybe the tender gratefulness opened my heart, I'm not sure, but i was not prepared for what happened on Sunday.

You know how little things sometimes pile up and conspire together? That was Sunday. For the first time since the funeral, I sat in church alone. The first Sunday back to church after Robert's passing, my oldest son brought his sweet family and joined me, knowing my first meeting alone would be hard. On that Sunday he was running late, though, so I went in and saved a seat...but as soon as the singing began I sent him a text saying, "This is harder than i thought". After that first Sunday, I found people to sit with...that helped. But on this Thanksgiving Sunday, most of my friends were out of town, so I sat by myself. No biggie...I've done it before, right? And then came the talks about gratitude. The sacred words of truth fell on my heart and opened my tear ducts...and..well...I cried through the whole meeting. I found it interesting that I could smile, be thankful and then cry because Robert was gone and I missed having him beside me to share it with. They weren't tears of sadness really, they were tears of grateful feelings. Gratitude so big, I felt like singing. I have been so blessed! I give thanks, and in the process discover more blessings! More blessings, more tears. More gratitude and a renewed desire to serve others, to share His Good News. More good feelings, More tears.

On the way home, the words of another Christmas carol crept into my thoughts.

"What shall we give to the Babe in the manger, what shall we offer the child in the stall? Incense and spices and gold we've got plenty, are these the gifts for the King of us all?

"What shall we give to the boy in the temple, what shall we offer the Man by the sea? Palms at his feet and hosannas uprising, are gifts for Him who will carry the Tree.

"What shall we give to the Lamb who was offered, rising the third day and shedding His love? Tears for his mercy we'll weep at the manger, bathing the infant come down from above."

I guess crying in Church isn't such a bad thing, after all.









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The String Around My Finger

My grandma tied a string around her finger. A simple piece of twine in a nice little bow. I asked her what the bow on her finger was for and she said it was to remind her of something important she wanted to remember. I liked it. I didn’t really need to remember anything (I was 6), but I wanted a bow on my finger too, so she made one. It did remind me of something, though…that my grandma loved me and would do (almost) anything to make me happy.

My life is filled with reminders. Pictures remind me of good times and my beautiful family, of those here with me and those who’ve gone on to the next part of eternity. A beautiful wood bowl turned by my late husband reminds me of his love for nature, for his family and for me. He made gifts of some of his bowls to those who helped or served him. Those people now have symbols of his gratitude to them. We sometimes decorate our homes with symbols to remind us of things. We wear jewelry or clothing with symbols, as well. Heavenly Father loves symbols, too. Remember the rainbow? A symbol of His promise to Noah? There are symbols all around us, if we look for them. All of creation is a symbol to us of His love for us. The symbols around me strike a chord within me that helps me remember God and His love for me and to feel peace.

Sometimes I choose funny symbols. Shortly after Robert and I were married, I was with a group of women who were discussing, not in a mean way, just a gentle discussion of the things about their spouses that could become an irritation. One friend mentioned that her husband’s snoring had often driven her to another room at night. I smiled. Robert snored. It’s legendary (he would even admit to it!). You could hear him from other rooms (the nurses in the hospital kept his room door closed and they could still hear), so moving to a different room wouldn’t have made any difference. When the noise broke into my dreams at night, I would wake and think to myself, “Oh yes! I have an amazing husband who loves me very much and has answered every prayer in my heart!” Then I would smile and go back to sleep. The snoring never bothered me (police helicopters overhead of equal decibels, however, those bothered me). I said this aloud to my friends, who laughed and said, “You’re just a newlywed and ‘in love’”. That may have been true, but the snoring was a string around my finger to remind me of something beautiful and wonderful. How could I complain? It all depends on how you want to look at things.

"My life flows on in endless song, above earth's lamentation.
I catch the sweet, tho' far off hymn that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife I hear the music ringing,
It finds an echo in my soul; how can I keep from singing?"

There are sad things, hard things, that happen in life. We sometimes make symbols to help us remember those things, too. That same beautiful handmade wood bowl reminds me that Robert has moved into the next life. But because it also reminds me of his love and service, it doesn’t make me sad to look at it, rather, I feel blessed to share his journey and see his example. It inspires me. It really does depend on how you look at things, and so often that can be a choice (like the snoring?).
"What though my joys and comfort die; The Lord, my Savior, liveth!
And though the darkness gather 'round, Songs in the night He giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, While to that refuge clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth, How can I keep from singing?"

I met a woman a few weeks ago who was widowed two years ago. The friend who introduced us commented that we could cry together. The woman lifted her left hand to display her wedding ring and said, "I miss my husband, but every time I look at this ring on my finger, I remember how much we loved each other and how happy we were together, and it makes me smile. How can I be sad when I've had a love most people never enjoy?" I agreed with her completely! But I had to add to her comment, "This life is just for a time, I will see my sweetheart again. That knowledge gives me real joy!"

Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, "With the bountiful blessings of our Heavenly Father, His generous plan of salvation, the supernal truths of the restored gospel, and the many beauties of this mortal journey, “have we not reason to rejoice?”

"I lift my eyes, the cloud grows thin, I see the blue above it!
And day by day this pathway smooths since first I learned to love it.
The Peace of Christ makes fresh my heart, a fountain ever springing,
All things are mine since I am His; How can I keep from singing?"

Like the string around my grandmother's finger, I am surrounded by people and things that are daily reminders of God's love for me. I know He is real. How can I keep from singing?


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It is Wonderful!

I love hearing the Prophets and Apostles speak. I love reading the scriptures, reviewing over and over again the sacred words that bring me peace; but I especially appreciate the peace and understanding that fill my heart and soul when I hear the Prophet and Apostles speak. This has been especially true the last few weeks.

Last Saturday was especially hard. I don't know that any one thing happened to make it hard, but a cloud of silly little things just kept getting bigger and bigger...until it rained on my parade and made me cry. I had carefully planned bunches of things to do, but at every turn was confronted with some inability to complete the task, reminding me that I had been left alone, and I would think, "If Robert were here, he would've done this," or "Robert would've been able to fix this."

My large collection of Nativity sets required larger storage space in my new home than was available. I purchased a large shed and ordered the installation for Saturday morning, thinking I could move the boxes piled in the garage into the new shed by the afternoon and be able to park the car in my garage by the evening (that's a big deal!). In my mind, I pictured a beautiful building that would fit within a certain space in the side yard and would hold all of the storage boxes filled with nativity sets. But the shed installers called mid-morning saying they would be late. They finally arrived in the late afternoon, finishing their work moments before I was to have left for a meeting. They asked me to look at the shed before I signed off on the installation. I walked outside and the picture in my mind shattered with the reality of what I had asked for- a long, squat building (HOA compliant!) that took more of the side yard space than I realized and didn't even look as lovely as I had hoped. Can you say eyesore? (to be fair, it IS beautiful and had even been painted, it just wasn't lovely when compared with the rest of the beautifully landscaped yard). I immediately resented that I was having to deal with any of this...and thought if Robert was here, none of it would have happened!

As I returned to the house, I recognized the stage of grief for what it was, gathered my courage and pasted my smile on as I prepared to attend the broadcast of the General Relief Society meeting. I was excited to meet new Relief Society sisters and greet old friends, and I looked forward to hearing the speakers. I tried to forget the new reality residing in my back yard. I rejoiced in seeing my wonderful and beautiful Sisters in Christ. We gathered to listen to the Relief Society leaders and an apostle of the Lord. My smile was still glued in place. I was safe. Or so I thought.

The meeting began, the Spirit filled the room, and began to overflow my heart, filling my eyes with tears. Every single speaker spoke of someone who had lost a loved one in death and the comfort of Christ's Atonement. At first, my frustration was stuck. I knew this truth, I knew it well! But I found myself almost wanting to remain stuck in my frustration and resisted the peace that was trying to swim upstream through my tears. I found i could barely sing the intermediate hymn. During the hymn, my thoughts wandered back to an experience during the rehearsal for Savior of the World, when the actors found themselves overwhelmed with the emotion of their testimony, and as directors we would remind them to feel the emotion but to harness it as they spoke. I sang with emotion and felt my testimony stream down my cheeks. "Oh, it is wonderful! That He should care for me enough to die for me! Oh it is wonderful! Wonderful to me!" I stopped trying to dry my tears with tissues and let them flow down my cheeks freely. I was reminded then that the Sacrifice so lovingly and agonizingly made in the Garden of Gethsemane was made especially for me...my pain and sorrow had already been suffered. I could remain upset and frustrated, or I could allow the Sacrifice to fill the empty spaces and renew my soul. And that is what I wanted... I wanted to feel joy when recalling the sacred memories of my life on earth with Robert. I knew I would be reminded daily of Robert's love and care for me, and I wanted to honor that. I no longer wanted to be upset that he was gone, because I knew and had known for years that all of this was part of the Lord's plan in our lives. And because of that understanding, I knew I would receive all the assistance I needed if I would ask in prayer.

After the singing, Elder Henry B. Eyring spoke of exactly that... his words reminded me that I had been watched over and comforted by many, many people. In the final days that Robert was here, a miniature army materialized, doing things we needed and asked for as well as many things we did not know we needed. Robert liked to say that his 'half-full cup overflowed with blessings', and that truly had happened to us! We endured the trials because of the great unmatched love of our Savior, manifested as love and service given by those around us. My testimony of the Lord's love for me personally was renewed as I thought of those many kindnesses. And, of course, the tears flowed again! So much so that my new friend, Peggy, whispered to me that she knew hearing these speakers was difficult. I responded that it was difficult but good. It is wonderful! I am amazed at the way the Lord works in my life. I am loved by many people, including my sweet husband, but most importantly, I am loved by my Heavenly Father. And it is wonderful!

"I think of His hands, pierced and bleeding to pay the debt.
Such mercy, such love and devotion, can I forget?
No, no! I will praise and adore at the mercy seat until at the glorified throne I kneel at His feet.
Oh, it is wonderful, that He should care for me enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful! Wonderful to me!"

My heart is healed, and while I will continue to miss my husband daily, even hourly, I know that I will be joyfully reunited with him again. I have all that I need. I am truly blessed. And with that peace, I desire to spend my time sharing the Love of God with all those around me. I know in Whom I trust. He will lead me along as I do.

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The more things change....

Many people dislike change. Sometimes I am one of them. Change can be painful. Even when it looks good on the surface. That is the case for me this last month.

I wanted to stay right where I was. I liked my cute little house with the poppy covered mailbox and the Christmas shed built by my sweetheart. I wanted to stay near dear friends and to have everything just be the same. Except it wasn't the same. My sweetheart is not physically present and that makes a huge difference. For reasons I won't go into here, I knew there was only one choice; I couldn't stay.

Nervously, I began looking for another house. I reconsidered many times, but each time I did, something would happen to let me know I needed to move and that it was ok. True to the way Robert and I did things, the entire process moved fairly quickly once I settled into acceptance. People asked how I could leave. How could I stay? Isn't it hard to stay in the house with all those memories? It was harder to move away and be all alone. My sweetheart, confidant and caretaker was gone- unable to do things for me as he had in the past. Every move to a new home is filled with tons of little handyman projects- connect the washing machine; why isn't the hot water heater running; this needs to be mounted to the wall; this hose fitting doesn't work here; oh, that's what the AC sounds like in the middle of the night; this little thing, that little thing. The part of my life who did half of the little things wasn't present, and at every turn I was reminded of that. I would have much rather stayed right where I was and be reminded of it in familiar surroundings. As if facing hard things is easier when we are in our comfort box.

And then there are our children. They knew all the reasons, and they knew there was no choice. My kids were supportive, knowing how hard it was for everyone. His kids were supportive, even when it was hard for them. I'm sure it is and will be a bit strange to see familiar things in new surroundings. Just as it does for me, I'm sure it reminds them of the reason for the change. And it makes me want to be with them, all of them. To share happy things with them, and continue the living in the way Robert wants.

I have been so busy this week that I have not met this change with the same plan as I usually meet hard changes. As I reviewed the last couple of weeks, I recognized the hand of the Lord prominently in all that has happened. That alone gives me comfort. I've also received two blessings, one from a Priesthood leader and one from my sons which have reminded me of the need to greet the changes in my life as the next step and find joy in service and in my family. "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal." What a gift!

And so this week I am making new plans for new traditions, new happy memories with old familiar things. My friends may live further away, but they are still here and still treasures in my life. I actually live closer to almost all of our kids (they call that Fortuosity). And as I look around me, I am looking forward to spending time with each and every one of our children and grandchildren- breakfasts, barbecues, dinners and more. I feel loved and happy and not nearly so alone. My life is rich with beautiful people. I am loved, not only by my sweetheart, but by my Heavenly Father. I am comforted by His Grace. And that has never changed.

"I love this life, even when it hurts;
Even when I'm weary from the race.
The Power of Heaven lifts me up in this day of Grace."


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For My Children

What a time we can have with grief. I don't know about you, but for me, I want to surround myself in the comfort of familiar things, things that remind me of my sweetheart. His shoes on the closet floor, his hat on the shelf, his journal and scriptures near the bed...everything is almost the same, as if he never left. Seeing his familiar things makes the space created by his absence not quite so, um, empty. Our home is filled with a mix of things that have become 'Us'. Treasures from his time in South America and Samoa, treasures from my passion for Church History, indications of our mutual love for music, and walls filled with pictures of our families, the real treasures of our lives. Even now each day I am surrounded by sweet familiar comfort. Each morning and evening, sitting at the table he made brings me comfort too...he touched this table, therefore he is still present.
Now I do believe that he is certainly present, watching and blessing his loved ones from the other side. While I don't need the table to feel comfort, it helps. Stability in a table. :)
His children want comfort too. They want, even need to have some of his things. In the same way that I gain comfort from the sameness of having these things near me, they want and need to have reminders of his presence in their lives. This becomes problematic. There is only one table. The table is central to their memories. There were several bookcases made by him...most of which the children have put to use in their homes. But there is only one table. And his children have said they want the table, too. What to do? Hmmmmm
As usual, my answer came in a song. Neil Diamond was in town and I lucked out with an invitation to his concert from my sweet daughters-in-law. Oh, the memories! Oh the rhythmic, happy music! I was literally dancing in my seat. :) And then...well, what are the chances he would sing a rather obscure song, one that I had fallen in love with many years ago, Morningside. A song about a man who died and left a handmade treasure for his children.

"And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And all of the children who gathered around this great table touched it with their laughter.
Ah, and that was good...
And when he died he left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside, 'For my children'."

I sat in that concert and cried. Dumb, I know.

Now really, the song is about leaving legacies. And Robert did that. He left a lifelong example of faith, devotion and service. He loved and served everyone he met. I knew what he wanted his children to remember; he wanted them to remember to love others more than themselves, and to serve God with all their hearts. He left lasting treasures in the many friendships he created, as well as the beautiful works of his hands. Treasures from his heart. Those treasures should be quite enough for anyone to have.

He also left treasures he made with his hands. And just as having things of his that remind me of him bring me comfort, having these things he made with his hands would also bring his children comfort and hopefully remind them of the real treasures of his life, the treasures from his heart he hoped they would remember. I have loved the times with Robert, with children and grandchildren around that table. Meals, games, pumpkin carving, coloring pictures, beautiful memories have been made around that table. Those memories bring me joy. Neil Diamond reminded me of that. The table belongs to me, but it was made for his children. So in a few days, Brenda will bring her car and take away the treasure left by her father. I will miss using it daily...that will be hard. But when I do, I will think about how our grandchildren will still gather around it, and it will always be good. I will find joy in thinking about how when the children talk about Grandpa, who made the table, they will talk about all the good things he did, and how he loved God and served others, and...that will be good, too.


"And with his hands he carved these words inside, 'For my children'"

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My Joy IS Full

I'm not sure I can gather my thoughts into anything useful tonight, but for me, putting things on (virtual) paper is always therapeutic, if only to get them written out so I can organize them and decide which thoughts are good. :)
C.S. Lewis said, "No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek, find." Hmmmm. I have always believed that is true, that sometimes, maybe even most of the time, joy is readily available in our lives, and sometimes we have to search to find it. Sometimes sadness or hard times obscures the light of Joy, but it is always available to us. Today, I am trying hard to find it.
So.....here I am, sad. So sad. And feeling alone. My sisters have come to stay for a few days following my husband's funeral, and I still feel alone.
Pedicures today were fun, but there was no one at home to notice the new 'flowers' and pink polish. ☹
We've eaten almost nothing but salads all week, and no one complains that we need a good steak. ☹
Combing through cooking magazines is no fun- who am I going to cook for? This fresh new widow-hood makes me feel like I'm standing in mud. My feet feel squishy and if I lift one foot from the mud, the other is certain to slide away. I don't like to wallow in anything, be it mud or sadness (ok, sand on the beach is different). I am going to have to adjust, I know. I can feel my soul looking for the joy in the little things. My mind wanders the memories of happy times past...sitting on the piano bench, I remember practicing piano duets with my sweetheart and how much fun we had together. I notice the artwork on the walls of our home, nearly every piece is something we chose together, each one with a special meaning and happy experience to go with it. Even the melodic 'tuned' windchimes on the back patio evoke a special memory that lifts the corner of sadness and allows a sliver of happy light to shine through. That little glow leads me to scripture, where I have sought and received comfort many, many times before.
And it is there, in scripture that I am reminded of the one true source of Joy.
" Wherefore, fear not even unto death, for in this world your joy is not full, but in me your joy is full." D & C 101:36
In Him my joy is full.
One thing I've learned is that the language of scripture is no mistake. So I notice that the scripture says my joy IS full, not that it will be full. IS means now; currently. Not something far off, but something very now.
I also notice the familiar command, 'Fear Not'. I have learned to welcome new opportunities for growth and be unafraid. I am learning how the infinite power of my Savior's atonement enables me to do hard things. I can continue in this life, even doing the things that brought me joy before, brought us joy together. Because of that infinite atonement, I have a promise of great joy- when I am reunited with my sweetheart, yes, but also in this life. My joy IS full- in all the things that brought me joy before. My Savior's love has filled in the gaps and lifted my feet from the squishy mud. I stand on firm ground. This is a process, yes, but the sliver of light has now filled the entire window, and my joy truly is full.
"And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing, sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in.
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing, he bled and died to take away my sin.
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee, How great thou art, How great thou art.
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee,
How great thou art, How great Thou art!"
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Christmas in July

If it were up to me, I'd celebrate Christmas all year long. I mean, really, what's not to celebrate? For me, I doubt it would ever grow old. Besides, I love, love, love Christmas Music. I have always felt it is God's special way of speaking to me, of bringing peace and joy (notice the Christmas words?) to my soul.
And on this particularly hard, sad day in July, that is what has happened.
This afternoon, my eternal sweetheart passed from this life. He was the greatest, most kind, selfless man I have ever known. His final acts were of service to me and to his beloved children. Ours was a love story filled with sacred events that led us to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were meant to be together in this life and in eternity. Even after his cancer diagnosis two months after our wedding, we shared a blissful life and gave thanks daily for our love and marriage.
As Robert's mortal body slowed down, we decided that home was the best place to be, so we left the hospital and went home to hospice care. The first days were miraculous as Robert spent his energy attending the wedding of his youngest son. Doctors, friends and family banded together to make it happen and it was amazing. His face beamed with joy as the sacred vows were uttered. At home again, the cancer took it's toll, and on this day, nearly two weeks later, he passed away. Once again, God's hand was evident, and peace enveloped our home in his final hours. Our children (his and mine) expressed their love for him, grief at the loss, and the Comforter was present. Sweet grandchildren sang to me via the Internet, "I Am A Child of God." Once again, friends and family gave sacred service to us in our time of need, which deepened the peace.
But that didn't make going to bed alone this night any easier. I reasoned with myself that I had slept alone in the house, our house, before during Robert's lengthy hospital stays. It didn't change the new and different alone feeling I felt. I decided some music would help my mind relax. This night I tuned my iTunes to William Joseph's newest CD, Be Still. And I cried. I cried through Be Still My Soul, and Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing. I counted blessings, and cried some more. I prayed, giving thanks for this beloved man who entered my life and healed my heart. I reminded myself of the Good News of the Gospel, and as the peace descended upon me once again, the piano sang the perfect answer:
"Silent Night, Holy Night! All is calm, all is bright!... Sleep in Heavenly Peace! Sleep in Heavenly Peace!" Ah, yes! The perfect reminder of the One we look to for our salvation, without whom we would have no Hope of an eternal life with those we love most; "Son of God, Love's pure Light radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming Grace. Jesus, Lord, at thy birth. Jesus, Lord, at thy birth."
Yes, I will miss my husband for the remainder of my days on this earth. But I have a certain knowledge that we will be reunited again, and I give thanks for my Savior who sacrificed to make that possible. It is His loving example that my husband followed all his life, and because of that, I have Peace and Joy.
I have always loved Christmas in July.
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