Category Archives: Widowhood

Flight of Time

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One of my favorite singers, Eydie Gorme, sang a song so thought-provoking that several years ago I wrote out the lyrics and filed them in a manila folder under “Time”, which was the name of her song.

She sang, “Back when I was young and summer was forever, ‘good’ was your first name.”

Nate on Healey StreetFor most people, good times fill their youthful years, along with hope for a happy future. I love looking at this picture of Nate taken in early 1971, because seeing him there in our first apartment, dressed as he is, floods my mind with good-time-memories. He was finishing law school, and I was teaching first grade. Although we had very few possessions and minimal money, it was all good times.

And then the clock began moving, ticking even as we slept. Nate graduated, we moved, he became a lawyer, I became a stay-at-home mommy. Seven kids grew up, went to college, moved away, and made us proud. We had weddings and then grandchildren. And in what seemed like a quick minute, time ended, at least for Nate. And my time as his wife ended, too.

Eydie sang, “Time, when did you begin trading your tomorrows for worn out just-todays?”

In January of 2010, when I’d been a widow for three months, I remember sitting in a chair at twilight, my hands in my lap, doing absolutely nothing but listening to the tick-tock of a wall clock. Immobilized by sadness, I didn’t know what to do. It seemed appropriate to just listen to time slipping away. I was worn out by grief, and life had morphed into a series of “worn out just-todays.”

The same wall clock is still ticking today, but I’m feeling much better. Sitting in a chair doing nothing isn’t something I want anymore. I remember Mom saying, as a new widow, “Life will never be the same.” I’m sure that thought floats through the mind of every new widow or widower who has had a satisfying marriage. It dominated my thinking for a long time, too.

It’s true that life can never be the same after a mate dies, and I know I’ll never stop wondering what today, tomorrow or next year would have been like, had Nate been with us. But today, tomorrow and next year can be good again. It’ll just be in new ways.

Eydie sang, “Time, you rolled into years, years that left me walking, when you began to fly.”

WalkingTime is indeed flying, and I may be walking rather than flying, but sometimes a long walk can turn out to be a really good time.

“The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong… but time and chance happen to them all.” (Eccl. 9:11)

Praying and Praising with Mary

  1. I’m thankful my nausea is mild after today’s chemo. Also, my painful feeding tube will most likely be replaced next week.
  2. Pray for strength and energy to cope with non-stop commitments for a week or so.

Potential for Fear

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Elisabeth Elliot (to whom I referred yesterday) is one of those rare people who has been committed to Christ from a very young age without wavering. That’s not to say she hasn’t struggled with why God does what he does.

Wedding dayHer widowhood arrived only 3 years into her marriage to missionary Jim Elliot, a man so committed to sharing Christ’s love he told Elizabeth (Betty) he had decided never to marry. In God’s economy, wives trumped careers, and Jim didn’t want to slight either one.

But after years of friendship with Betty, he realized that her longing to serve God was as deep as his, and so they married, eager for a lifetime of ministry together. Though it seemed God’s plans had gone awry when Jim was murdered along with 4 fellow laborers, Betty accepted it as his will for her and their 10 month old daughter Valerie.

End of the SpearShe then did something her friends thought was incongruous, even unconscionable. She packed up her little girl and headed for the same tribal group that killed her husband, intent on continuing the work he’d barely begun. Her astounding story has been told in books (Through Gates of Splendor, The Savage My Kinsman), magazines (LIFE, Readers Digest), and a feature film (End of the Spear).

Betty and Valerie

 

 

As Betty trudged on foot through the snake-infested jungles of Ecuador to see not only the place where her husband died but to meet the men who killed him, surely she was frightened. I would have been terrified. But she testified to knowing no fear. She took two reassuring tools with her: a rock-solid belief in the sovereignty of God, and her camera.

Whatever happened, she believed, would only occur if God allowed it. Though she didn’t understand why Jim had to die, she didn’t sign off on her faith. Instead she submitted further, trusting God not just with her own life but with that of her toddler.

Betty's photo albumFifty-eight years later we begin to understand a bit better as we see this once-violent tribe of savages committed to Christ and living in love relationships. Betty and the others who refused to let fear keep them away were ultimately successful in bringing God’s light into a dark culture.

The devil delights in torturing us with fear, whether it’s to debilitate a new widow facing the unknown, or to dangle failure in front of someone trying a new venture, or to fight seemingly unbeatable cancer as my sister is. But God steps forward and says, “That fear is not of Me. Don’t buy into it. Keep trusting me with abandon.”

From Betty’s youthful perspective, her husband’s death was unnecessary, and for years she bore the heavy burden of trying to understand God’s behavior. When she finally figured out she wasn’t responsible for it, the load fell off and she was free to rest in God’s peace.

Her example should encourage us all to take him at his word and move forward without fear. Only in heaven will we finally understand why God did what he did on earth.

“The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.” (Proverbs 29:25)

Thank you for continuing in prayer for Mary. Additional requests on tomorrow’s blog.

Part One & Part Two

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At workLast night I received Part One of a two part gift: a dream about Nate. In the dream he was wearing a white shirt and tie, and was working on legal papers. I found it interesting that he was wearing one of those half-sleeves men used to wear in print shops (wrist to elbow) to spare their dress-shirts from ink. In the dream Nate was using a leaky fountain pen, so I was pleased he’d covered his sleeve.

Strangely, the two of us weren’t indoors but were sitting on chairs outside, perched on the sidewalk along the main street in our little town. I was enjoying the sunshine while he worked.

“It’s almost time,” I said. “Will we be leaving soon?”

“Yes,” he said, “but not till I get this work done.”

And that was it, a mini-conversation and a quick glimpse of my husband’s face. But I loved it.

Old fashioned mailPart Two of my gift came today from the back of a drawer. It was an envelope with Nate’s writing on it. His script was horrendous, and I frequently complained about its illegibility, but this card was printed. I interpreted his doing that as a desire to make it legible for me. I probably didn’t appreciate it at the time, but today I did.

The note was written on a retreat weekend by himself at our summer cottage in Michigan (now my permanent home) in 2006. Since he’d been under incredible work stress then, I’d encouraged him to take some time away, and it didn’t take much persuasion.

Nate's cardOver that weekend, he bought and mailed a card to me: “To my one and only…” it said. He knew I wouldn’t receive it until two days after he’d arrived home, but he wanted to put his thoughts down while they were fresh, and he sent it regular mail. Inside it said:

 

LegibleMeg, thanks for the idyll in Shorewood, extremely generous (as always) to me. Great as it is, “it ain’t the same without you.” Dinners alone are empty.

Time on lesson #8 [a Bible study we were doing together] – work notes and investing are beneficial – Psalm 75:6-7 really hits me – “Only from God” – not degrees, work, shrewdness – lessons learned and to be learned.     Love, Nate

(Note the asterisk after the paws, referring to a note at the bottom: * Not only paws but millions of doggy kisses!  — private joke)

The longer Nate is gone (4 years now) the more precious my dreams of him and these “finds” become. I see them as God’s custom-designed gifts of tender care, and he does this kind of thing for all his children. Although he doesn’t send dreams or letters every time I miss Nate or every time someone is sad, when he gauges the time is right, he sends something special.

And today I’m smiling over his two-part gift.

“If you then…. quite naturally give good things to your children, how much more likely is it that your Heavenly Father will give good things to those who ask him?” (Matthew 7:11)