One thousand ninety five

Three years. One thousand ninety five days. Without Kevin.

Today was a little tougher than I had anticipated.  I found myself having to push through.

Random thoughts without adequate transitions...

Another widow whose husband died of glioblastoma asked our Facebook group, “Have any of you reinvented yourself since being a widow?” I was surprised by how many changes other survivors have made--a different house, a new car, a job change, a different style of dress, and even a new person in their life for some.

I thought I would make changes.  I thought I would use my grief to reconstruct an improved me.  It was even in my blog on the one year anniversary of Kevin’s death. But honestly, Kevin could walk back in my life today without noticing a whole lot of change.  He’d be disappointed in how dirty the car is, but pleased that the gas tank is full. He wouldn’t be crazy about how my gardening junk is taking up so much space in the garage, but he’d admire the snowblower his Mom and Dad loaned me. I’d have to confess that I put a scratch on his truck.

But I haven’t grown or changed...yet…

Several weeks ago, I was meeting with a church group and we were discussing the Bible passage for the coming Sunday.  Matthew 24:40-44: “Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left. Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.  But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”

Our leader asked if anyone wanted to pick a person in the passage and describe how they might feel. Not confident in my Bible interpretations, I usually hold back, but this time I volunteered quickly.

I imagine myself to be the man in the field or woman at the mill who got left behind.  Kevin got to go...and I didn’t. In my mind, I was always going to go first, but it didn’t work out that way.  God didn’t think I was good enough. God takes the good ones.

A wise woman of our church (she’d get a kick out of that description and most likely correct it with wise-a**).  To start again, a wise woman of our church said, “I’d like to think he left a few good ones behind.”

My self-centered being often has tunnel vision. She opened my eyes to the bigger picture.  Of course, God leaves good ones behind. I witness that Every. Single. Day. Like my neighbor who helps with my shoveling. Or the friends and family who remember that today might be rough and send a text to show they care.  Or parents who include me in their socializing so I’m not home alone. Good people. Every. Single. Day.

Isn’t it interesting how just the right sliver of information crosses your path when you need it? Over break, the weather was nice enough to venture out for a walk.  When not with my walking partner, I like to listen to podcasts. I had not listened in quite a while so my choices were plentiful. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. “Two Powerful Words That Can Change Your Life.”   Yep, that’s what I need.  

Stepping my way through the streets of Bangor, I learn of the power of I am.  “Whatever follows I am comes looking for you.” The negative self-talk that fills my head, and is even voiced out loud, is inviting self-condemnation rather than the change and growth I am seeking. Crossing the tracks and processing the words with each step I hear, “If you are breathing, God has a purpose for you. As long as you have breath, someone needs what you have.” 

I don’t know why God left me behind. Yet I am reminded that he has plans. 

As today winds to a close, I am thankful for:

• for those who remember and reach out (and as silly as it sounds, for the technology that allows those messages to be received instantly and unobtrusively)
• for words of wisdom and the ears to hear them
• for memories of those we love to see us through