Changing Expectations

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An important part of my transition to widow-status is to consciously set a different standard. For example, every time I think, “Nate will be home soon,” immediately on its heels is a second thought, “He isn’t coming.” My widow friends tell me these “false starts” will happen less and less often, but for now, each thought-couplet (he’s coming; he’s not coming) is a fresh disappointment.

Riding this emotional see-saw drains energy, but I can’t wish it away. The passing of time helps, they say, because all major change takes some getting used to. I buy that, because I’m doing better this week than last, which was better than the week before that. Nate always used to say, “The only constant in life is change.” I know that wasn’t original with him, but it’s his voice I hear in my ears, reminding me of this truth. Life has changed dramatically for both of us. At first I categorized his change as positive (heaven) and mine as negative (widowhood), but I’m trying to pull away from that now, opting instead to call our changes “different”.

With a windy snowstorm today, our new winter season is shouting about change. Christmas without Nate is also telling us how radically our holidays will change. But just like the current seasonal changes, I’ve come to a new life-season personally. Nate has begun his eternal life season. I’ve begun the season of widowhood.

What could possibly be positive about that? After all, I’ll be without a partner at weddings, graduations, funerals, christenings, any formal gathering where Nate and I used to go together. I’ll sleep alone, drive alone, shop alone, do everything we used to do together, alone. The first thing to do is to set aside false expectations about my new season. When I see a couple leaning against each other in church, instead of thinking “if only,” I need to tell myself, “You’re done with that season now.” It isn’t the end of the world.

There’s a Scripture passage that says, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But when I became a man [or woman], I put away childish things.” (1 Corinthians 13:11) The season of childhood ends for all of us. Many of the things we’ve looked at as positives from the perspective of a child disappear when we become adults, but that doesn’t mean new good things aren’t coming.

So far, I’ve only been faced with the negatives of this new season of widowhood.  Today I’m working on changing that. Will there eventually be positives? I believe there will be, for one reason: God doesn’t pull the rug out from under us without planning to catch us when we fall. But even better than that, I believe he has a brand new positive plan for me, a new place to stand “on a new rug,” so to speak. Although it won’t include Nate, I have confidence it will be a good plan anyway. I don’t yet know what it is, but in due time the Lord will show me.

Midge plus kids

In the mean time, he’s given me a little peek at what my new season will hold. It will involve grandbabies, five so far (2 born, 3 almost born). I know it will include travel to see these little people in Florida and England. I know I’ll need to swing a paint brush to freshen up our needy cottage. I know I’ll learn to think like a widow, which will expand my understanding of all the widows who have preceded me into this season. I’m in their club now, and being “included” will be a good thing.

I want to fulfill whatever purpose God has in mind for me from here on, and do the work he’ll assign me to do. As my missionary friend is fond of saying, “God’s work done in God’s way will find God’s supply.” I know I’m going to make it, and I know it’s going to be good.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven… and a time to heal…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,3a)

The Love Dare

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Many of us saw a movie in 2008 called “Fireproof” about a couple whose marriage was falling apart. The husband was challenged to secretly do loving things for his wife for 40 days straight in an effort to warm their relationship. It was a good story based on biblical principles, and Nate and I enjoyed the movie. Several months later, bookstores showcased THE LOVE DARE, a book detailing the 40 days of love. Each chapter ended with a “dare” to do something kind for husband or wife.Love Dare 2

Last December, I saw the book on sale and decided it might be fun to quietly do 40 days of good deeds for Nate as we started a new year. We weren’t having any marriage struggles at the time, but I bought the book, always wanting to make our marriage better.

I made THE LOVE DARE part of my daily devotional time and looked forward to seeing what each new “dare” would be. The first one was to “say nothing negative to your spouse” all day. That wasn’t difficult, and I checked it off with ease.

The second day instructed, “Do one unexpected gesture.” While Nate was on the train heading to work, I called his answering machine and thanked him for being willing to go to work on a nine degree morning, to battle it out for our benefit. I also thanked him for plunging a toilet before leaving and carrying six loads of dirty clothes to the laundry room. Journaling as the book suggests, I listed my phone call as the unexpected gesture but also the six things he did for me before 7:00 AM.

As the days ticked away, I completed each “dare” and learned new things about my husband. I learned he loved me far more unconditionally than I loved him, and I became increasingly thankful I was married to Nate.

As our moving date came closer and life picked up speed, I found it harder to get to THE LOVE DARE book. A month went by. Then two. Eventually I lost track of the book but figured I’d find it when we unpacked after the move. Four months went by but finally it surfaced. I wanted to continue, having seen interesting gains in our relationship, so began again on September 20 at about the half way point.

Two days later, we heard those words, “Pancreatic cancer, metastasized, inoperable, incurable.” And in the swirl of activity that followed, there wasn’t one minute to do any more “dares”.

Today I looked at the last “dare” I’d done for Nate. It was to spend focused time in prayer for him. On the journal page I wrote, “I enjoyed praying for Nate more than an hour this morning and am excited to watch for the Lord’s fresh activity in and around his life!”

The Scripture for that day was, “Beloved, I pray that in all respects you may prosper and be in good health, just as your soul prospers.” (3 John 2)

To read that now makes me ache. But the events that unfolded after my hour of prayer for Nate were so unusual, I can’t view them as anything but God’s doing. As I’d requested in prayer that day, I did get to see “the Lord’s fresh activity in and around his life.” It just looked wildly different than I’d envisioned, and it was contrary to what I’d wanted. But God isn’t predictable and doesn’t do our bidding. We know only what’s in front of us. He looks over our heads and sees the distant future and all the good that will be part of that.

I regret not finishing THE LOVE DARE. Between January and November, I had plenty of time to complete 40 days of “dares”. Had I known Nate’s life would come to a screeching halt on November 3, I’d have been more diligent about getting through the book, but I thought I had all the time in the world.

The achy verse from 3 John actually had it right. Nate’s soul is indeed prospering (understatement!), and he is definitely in good health!

“Therefore I say to you, all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted you.” (Mark 11:24)

A Close Call

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When I opened my eyes this morning, I looked up from the pillow through the windows that are our headboard and saw big, feather-like snowflakes drifting toward me. I felt like a kid lying in a snow drift with my tongue out, waiting for the flakes to land in my mouth. While I’d been sleeping, nature had put on her winter coat.

snow outside bedroom

By mid-morning Jack was eager for his walk. I was excited to see how the storm had beautified the beach, so we decided to take the car and do our walking along the shore, once we got there.

Although there were only two inches of snow on the roads, it was slippery, and I ran into trouble. Most of the four blocks are uphill as we “climb” the dunes. I drove over the creek bridge and started up the 45 degree angle when the van started to slip. I tried to turn into the skid as they taught us in driver’s ed, but the car had its own plan.

It began slowly swiveling around on the hill until it was crossways on the road. A gentle braking wouldn’t stop it, and the gas pedal only spun the wheels. I sat holding the steering wheel, not sure what to do, when the van began sliding down the hill sideways as if it was a happy child on a snow saucer. I pictured myself going over the edge of the road right into the creek I’d just crossed, about a ten foot drop. How would I explain this to my insurance man?

Jack was seated like an old guy in the back seat, and I began asking him what to do. “Should I turn the wheel? Straighten it? Jump out?” I wasn’t sure, but I opened the door, just in case. As we headed for the creek, suddenly my rear wheels hit a pile of leaves under the snow and grabbed hold, jerking the car to a stop.

After pausing to think, I decided to back up further into the leaves, turn the tires down hill and gun it. The van spun into front-forward position and slipped back to level ground on the creek bridge. We made it home safely and started again for the beach, this time on foot. God had prepared a surprise for me.

When we got to that same incline, I studied my tire tracks. Under the innocent-looking snow was a layer of ice. Even my moon-boots slipped hopelessly once we started climbing, and I had to use the leaves at the edge for traction. Lucky Jack, he had claws.

As we continued to climb, I came to the second incline where the edge of the road drops off immediately and plunges over a cliff several stories down. My heart started pounding when I realized if my van had made it up the first incline, I’d have moved to the second one, the drop-off section of road where it was much icier. Had the van begun to slip there, I’d have gone backwards over the cliff for sure. I might have been able to jump out just before the car went over, but Jack would have gone with the car, which would have tumbled end over end and been totaled.

Jack and I walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down, recognizing God’s protective care by having me slip badly on the first incline, forcing us to take the car home. He’d saved us from driving to the second incline, preventing a serious mishap with possibly severe injuries and a ruined car. And my furry friend could easily have been lost.

snow out sunroom 2

By the time Jack and I got to the beach, I had goose bumps, partly from the cold, but mostly because of the realization God had literally saved me from disaster. Once again, he’d been the loving, take-action husband for me, just as he promised.

“I will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust!’ For he will give his angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.” (Psalm 91:2,11)