Writing a book gobbles up more than 40 hours each week but is very satisfying work, and I’m privileged to have the chance. My book’s purpose is to nourish careworn widows with daily devotionals focusing on God’s provision for them.

The process between an author signing a contract and a reader being able to hold the book in her hands is usually more than a year, but of course God sees the finished product today and, more importantly, those who’ll need it. He knows which pages will end up stained with tears from which woman’s grieving eyes and is shaping each devotional entry now, in 2011, toward individuals who will read them in 2012.

Yesterday I spent time thinking about these women, future widows who next year will be where I was two years ago, and God gave me a shocking thought. Many of my future readers are not yet widows. They’re still married to the men they love and have no inkling widowhood is quietly moving toward the edges of their lives. In some cases, widowhood will arrive to the very young who are still thinking they’ll reach their 50^th anniversaries.

Recently I chatted with a youthful mother of three who lost her husband as they slept side-by-side, discovering his death in the morning when he didn’t rouse with his alarm. In her shock she didn’t know what to do next. Her children, stirring in adjacent rooms on a school morning, were ages 8, 7 and 5. In the chaotic weeks and months that followed, this 34 year old widow needed mountains of support. I fervently hope my book will help women just like her.

Other 2012 widows will be those now married to older men. Even then, when death is more likely and logical, that woman’s distress over losing her mate will be enormous. If disease factors in, we think a wife will be sufficiently forewarned to escape some of the sorrow after death comes. But in talking with scores of widows, I’ve learned that an illness-warning doesn’t lessen heartache.

Still others will experience circumstances similar to mine, a combination of disease’s warning with the calendar’s “too soon.” According to census figures, nearly a million American women will become widows in 2012. As I write my book and pray for them, most have no clue they’ll be in that group.

But God knows.

And he is the single most effective rescue for each one. As I think through the devotionals I’m writing, my heart hurts for those about to start down this road, but I consider lack of future awareness a blessing for them, as it was for me. While writing within God’s promptings, I’m relieved to know he sees and loves each soon-to-be-widow and is preparing comfort now, for those who don’t yet know they’ll need it tomorrow.

“Don’t be afraid… You will no longer remember… the sorrows of widowhood.” (Isaiah 54:4)

Some people favor autumn over other seasons, but many more prefer summer with its beach-worthy days and balmy evenings. I’m in that camp.

Last week my kitchen thermometer dipped into the 30’s overnight, unseasonably cold for the Midwest in early September. It was a glimpse of much colder days immediately ahead. Although September is lovely, it prompts sadness over August’s demise.

Today when Jack and I went walking on the beach, 20 mph winds whipped around us, and I was glad to be zipped into a winter coat. Temperatures weren’t extreme, still in the high 50’s, but the beach felt chilly. I laughed, remembering how the same temperature feels warm in April or May. When it gets “that warm,” we dig out our capris and sandals. I suppose that’s because in spring we still have our winter skins on, after muscling through bona fide cold.

Now it’s time to get used to falling temps again, and that doesn’t feel so good. The same holds true for life’s emotionally cold, harsh seasons.

Once in a while God lets winter winds buffet us, causing us to mourn the loss of warmer, cheerier times. We’re forced to leave a pleasantly warm emotional season and enter a ruthless cold one, usually against our wishes. My many new widow friends feel this way. None were ready to say goodbye to their men or to go-it-alone. But God allowed death to come anyway, and each wife found herself in the unwelcome season of widowhood.

Some of the women tried to bargain with God: “Please, Lord, don’t take my husband! If you do, then take me, too. I can’t possibly live without him.”

A few prayed, “Transfer his illness to me. Do anything you want to me, but just don’t take him!” And yet God did, bringing in a wintry season of deep loneliness and forced change.

So they struggled along, doing what had to be done, feeling what had to be felt. Then one day they realized they’d found a bit of relief from grief, and after the first year, actually felt hopeful. This isn’t to say they’d stopped missing their men. But signs of spring’s emotional thaw began at about that time, and “I can’t” slowly moved to “I can.”

This is true for most of life’s crises. Time spent squaring off with the undesirable changes and tackling the new beginnings gradually mitigates the negative impact. And one day, a widow who said, “Oh, Lord, anything but that!” finds herself smiling again as her heart moves into a new summer season.

God allowed her to experience winter winds, but he was also faithful to bring spring blossoms. So when we’re tempted to grieve the passing of our favorite season, we should remind ourselves God will eventually bring it around again, outside our windows and inside our hearts.

“I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. They [his people] will live in safety, and no one will make them afraid.” (Ezekiel 34:26b,28b)