Category Archives: Widowhood

Learning the Lingo

Posted on by

Before I became a widow, I heard from many friends about the nightmare of paperwork that follows a spouse’s death. Some wives have been privy to this part of the marriage all along, naturally skilled to understand it. Most, however, are like me with talents in other areas. “He always took care of that department,” they say. Sadly, that translates to hours and hours of climbing a steep learning curve once their men are gone. And that’s me.

Today I told Louisa, “I have four mountains to climb,” meaning four online, data-related jobs to accomplish in partnership with the World Wide Web. The thought paralyzes me. I’ve figured out how to post blogs, but beyond that I’m in a foreign land without an interpreter.

Back when computers were new, when Nate and I were both green at emailing, we’d practice on each other. He’d send me quick one-line messages from the office, bringing me up to date on who he’d seen or what he’d learned that I might have found interesting. I’d do the same from home.

If he got an email from one of our kids, he’d forward it to me and preface it with a line or two: “From San Diego at noon. Lars is a good boy.” The email might have been a simple thank you from an adult child to a dad. Used like this, computers became our friends.

Since Nate died, however, my computer and I have entered a love-hate relationship. I love keeping up with our former world in the Chicago area, setting up visiting dates, reading blog comments and receiving prayer requests and answers. But oh the effort to get along with institutions: insurance companies, medical offices, government agencies, universities.

Although 800-numbers are tricky to find on web pages these days, when I finally do reach a human, the song and dance is always the same: “It’s easy! Just right-click on this, left-click on that, hover-over-this-other and voila! Done!”

Maybe for you.

My computer refuses to speak my click-language.

So much of success is in learning the right lingo. That’s true in my relationship with computers and also with God. When I talk to him, am I speaking his language? If I say, I don’t need you; you’re old-fashioned; you might be wrong; I control my own destiny, nothing good will come from those words. It’s like right-clicking when it should be left.

The key to being heard by the Almighty is to use the correct language. I’m sorry; please forgive me; I love you; come into my life; I want to obey you. When we click on the right web page instructions, good things happen. When we approach the Lord in the right way, the heavens will open.

I’m still learning God’s lingo, and he remains willing to teach me. I hope with practice, I’ll improve at communicating with him. I do know I’ll never give up trying.

Something else I won’t give up on is trying to learn the language of computers. Maybe I can find a Geek Squad willing to rent my empty bedroom.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14)

Don’t blow it.

Posted on by

Although I graduated from a Christian college that demanded careful attention to academics, my friends and I never let studying get in the way of a good time. During junior year we put together a country fair with baked goods, crafts and contests. When asked if I would set up a contest booth, I told them the only skill I had was blowing giant bubbles with bubble gum.

Apparently that was good enough. During the fair I sat in my station on a stool with a bowl of Bazooka gum next to me, selling chances to bubble-blowing challengers. Jocks, geeks, good students, flunkies, faculty members and even the dean of women all squared off with me, but at the end of the fair, I remained triumphant. My bubble was always bigger.

I still love bubble gum. My girls bought me a giant bucket of Double Bubble for my birthday, and I quickly divided the pieces into baggies so I’d have some in my beach bag, in the car, in my dresser and in the kitchen cabinet.

Over the weekend, however, my penchant for gum got the best of me. A dental crown and bridge, glued into my mouth in 1974, broke lose while I was chewing. Today I finally got myself glued back together.

But before the dentist could fill my mouth with a cotton roll, the saliva sucker, a mirror and a glue gun, I explained that in the last five days since the bridge came off, slowly that side of my mouth began to ache, then my jaw began to throb, and finally the whole side of my face hurt. Looking for sympathy I said, “Stabbing cheek pains woke me three times last night!”

“Facial muscles,” he said. “The tooth at the back, standing alone, has lost its support. Because of the other tooth’s absence, the whole dynamic of the line-up has changed.”

I was glad he began working in my mouth right then, because I could close my eyes and think… about Nate.

My lone tooth-left-standing did keep standing. It did its best to chew as always, but apparently the surrounding muscles had to pick up the slack. In time, they began to hurt. When a spouse dies, a wife remains standing under the new burden of widowhood, muscling through the necessary adjustments. She’s well aware that the line-up has dramatically changed. In time, though, the initial ache begins to hurt badly. Eventually it becomes sharp pain.

Today, with a little cement, the dentist reestablished my original tooth line-up, and although my jaw still hurts, he promised me time would make it feel better.

God is in the process of establishing a new line-up for me, too. It’s far more complicated than re-cementing a bridge, because Nate won’t be returning to the line-up. Nevertheless, somehow, some way, the Lord will close the gap he left, and I know with time, I’ll feel better.

For now, though, the dentist told me there is one thing I can do. “Lay off the gum for a while.”

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

Nesting on Empty

Posted on by

The beach is busy these days, summer’s last hurrah for many families. Compared to the 13 week summer we had as kids, today’s students have a raw deal having to pull on their back packs during the dog days of August. Teachers, too, surely must regret the earlier start-dates.

For me, not much will change when most of the world jumps back into making lunches, driving carpools and doing homework. Although I’ll still have two school-attending children, one will be five hours away by car, the other five hours by plane. So my nest will officially be empty, which is neither good nor bad, just factual.

Although I’ve known for years this day would come, I figured I would still have Nate when it arrived. I knew it wouldn’t feel completely empty with my partner and friend on hand to share the start of this new time of life.

Mom used to caution us during the whirlwind years of raising children when we had as many as five different schools simultaneously and five schedules to honcho. “Don’t get so busy you forget about your beloved,” she’d say. “When the kids are grown and gone, you’ll be back to where you started, just the two of you.”

Without preparation, husbands and wives can arrive at the empty nest with fear and trembling. After so many years of intense co-parenting, it can feel funny to be reduced to  two.

“Who is this guy?” she’ll say.

“What did I ever see in this woman?” he’ll say.

What does God intend for this season of couple-life? For one thing, he hopes the leave-and-cleave rule will hold up under pressure. Also, the statement, “Two are better than one” should still be considered a blessing. And putting the interests of another ahead of our own should continue to work well. But alarm bells ought to ring if a couple suddenly thinks giving up is the easiest route to take.

When one of the couples we knew would announce a break-up, especially after being married several decades, Nate would shake his head and say, “He should have stayed with the wife of his youth.”

What if a husband and wife were told, “In the spring of 2015, one of you will die.” The conversations and deeds of today would be carefully and lovingly planned. Nothing would be taken for granted. Each day would be greeted with eagerness. Quitting would be unthinkable.

Nate and I had talked about what life would be like one distant day when all the kids were up and out. We knew there would be major adjustments, but we determined to make the most of it.  The only thing we never discussed was an empty nest with just one in it.

Twelve months ago, we knew nothing of terminal cancer. Nate’s last words on the subject of the empty nest were, “We don’t know what it’ll be like, but we know we’ll be in it together.”

God had other plans, but I love Nate for remaining loyal to the wife of his youth, right up until the very end.

“Didn’t the Lord make you one with your wife? In body and spirit you are his… So guard your heart; remain loyal to the wife of your youth.” (Malachi 2:15)