Have you ever seen the movie Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs? If so, there is a scene where the main character is stuck in a jello mold. There were many moments in the early days of my recent grief journey where this is exactly how I felt. Like life was moving around me and I was stuck, immobile, and numb to what was going on around me.

During the early days of my journey we were packing and preparing to move. The decision to move in early June was something that Jason and I had decided was necessary back in April before there were any signs of illness. Abby and I had begun packing and had moving supplies dropped on our porch during quarantine while Jason was in the hospital. Jason and I strategized what was going to the new place and what was going to our storage unit via texts. My mom, in-laws, and family were super packers once quarantine was over! We had amazing help and thanks to amazing friends we were well fed.

Fast forward to June 8, this was moving day and a day that will be etched in my memory forever. Just the day before, Jason had been put on a ventilator because he needed more assistance in supporting his breathing and oxygenation. That morning, Abby and I got up early, welcomed our moving party, and began working until the hired movers arrived. Once the hired movers arrived they began taking furniture apart and loading everything onto the truck. My in-laws were taking down curtains and curtain rods, and Abby and I were working on final box preparation and directing traffic.

Then my phone rang…it was the hospital.

I answered the phone and held my breath. On the line was the hospitalist that had been with Jason on both the COVID floor and now the ICU. He was calling to let me know that Jason had taken a turn and his kidneys and liver were shutting down and he was requiring the max out of the ventilator and blood pressure medications. The doctor was calling to let me know that Jason’s condition was serious. The doctor indicated that they had done what they could for the moment, and they were basically waiting for him to code so they could take additional life saving actions. It was this moment that I asked permission for Abby and I to be allowed in to the isolation room to see him. If he was really as bad as they said he was, I was willing to do whatever I could to get in that room, to see him in person, to pray for life and health over his body, and to just hold his hand. We were granted permission. It was at that moment that I realized this was very serious.

We stopped the moving duties and prayed as a family. I made phone calls that I never thought I would have to make and the family jumped in their cars and headed to Oklahoma! I called a few of my friends who prayed and agreed with me and then sent word out for others to agree in prayer. I do want to say that while I felt like I was in the jello mold during this time I never doubted that he would survive this day.

We were able to schedule a visit to the ICU and the movers and moving party took over so Abby and I could leave. I tried to prepare her for what we would see, but honestly I wasn’t even sure. We arrived at the hospital, signed in, and rode the elevator to the ICU floor. We spoke with a doctor, who was less than optimistic about Jason’s condition, put on our gown, gloves, and mask and headed into his room where we were given about 15 minutes of visitation. We talked to him, we talked to each other, and we prayed over him together and individually. We could tell he was still with us and fighting for his life and health. He was not ready to give up!

Once our time was up we went to our new home. A home that Jason had never stepped foot in and as it turns out he never will. This is the first home in my adult life that we won’t share. When we went inside our family was working to set up the furniture and prepare everything for our first night in our new home. It had been a long day, one that had felt surreal, again, like I was in that jello mold. The move happened around me, life that day happened around me, family dinner happened around me, setting up my home happened around me. Over the next 3 days, my family and friends rallied around Abby and I to set up, decorate, and prepare our home to be a place of peace and refreshing. They rallied around us by providing food, gift cards, and groceries. They rallied around us by providing encouragement, support, and prayer.

Within a few days Jason’s isolation ended. This meant he was now allowed one visitor at a time in his room. At this point something inside me screamed, “girl, get up and fight”. I knew that I needed to be in Jason’s room. I longed to be by his side to be an advocate, to be informed of his care, and to pray over him daily. We were blessed with amazing nursing staff. They were caring not only towards Jason, but also towards Abby, myself and any family that stepped in his room. Daily I fought to get up and fight for him. Each day brought challenges and each day brought opportunities to trust that my God was in control. Each day I found that no matter the circumstances from minute to minute my God is good and He is faithful. These truths helped me to be able to get up, to fight, and to keep going.

You may find yourself in a jello mold, or in your bed, or your favorite spot on your couch. That is fine for a time, but know this it says in James, when our faith is tested our endurance has the opportunity to grow. If you use your faith, patience, and trust God in your trial then your faith and endurance will also have the opportunity to grow. This is the part where I know that not only was my faith tested, but so was my endurance. On this side of the journey I can tell you there has been growth in my faith and endurance, but I can also tell you that I am not done growing yet.

Girl, get up. Lean in to what your Heavenly Father is saying to you and asking of you and be confident knowing that He will walk with you every step of the way!

Have you ever found yourself in a moment where you said to yourself, “This is not my job”?

Over the past six months I have heard this phrase come from my mouth more times than I care to admit. Jason and I got married when we were both 21. We had already dated for 4 years by the time we arrived at our wedding day. Basically, we grew up together.

Once married we quickly settled into our roles as husband and wife. Like most married couples we each had our “jobs” that we did to contribute to the running of the household. He graciously cleaned the toilets, tubs, and showers. I cleaned the counters, did laundry, and vacuumed. We shared other jobs as well. If I cooked dinner he would do the dishes.

Since May I have been without my helper. I have had to learn how to flip breakers, change air filters, clean toilets, and the biggest one of all…kill spiders. There have been other milestone moments where I have uttered the words, “It’s not my job” and some have been more of a pitty party moment than others. My people have encouraged me to view these opportunities as moments of growth. Some I have willingly accepted, some I have faced head on and even came out a stronger person, and some I have sat in the corner and cried about. But this is all part of the journey. Moving through all the moments, being honest with the emotions, and processing the loss of my helper.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, be encouraged. We have a helper who is with us always. He desires us to run to Him with every issue we face, every spider we need to kill, and toilet we need to clean. It isn’t easy and some jobs may require us to ask for help from family and/or friends; but what I have learned is that your community is there, waiting, and ready to help in any way you need.

My story. I am a 40 something widow. I lost the love of my life in the summer of 2021 due to complications from COVID.

But my story is more than that last sentence. You see we met in high school, we were that couple. The rare couple that grows up together and after 28 years together we still were very much in love and planning for our future. We have a daughter who looks like me and yet is a beautiful blend of both of our personalities. He was a creative genius and a musician, I was the girl who played sports and can’t draw or play an instrument. He loved playing video games, and I loved watching any show about animals, veterinary procedures, and crime. What we both shared a love for was travel. We loved leaving our home and going on adventures. It was where we had time as a family or just the two of us. During the quarantine of 2020 we began watching various travel videos and began making plans for when we were empty nesters.

My grief journey began in 2007 when I lost my dad to cancer. It was a quick and aggressive battle. One that we as a family fought in prayer and faith for his healing. After that loss I had questions. Questions that I did not think or feel it appropriate to ask. So I did not ask. I did not process. As the oldest child, I felt a duty to take care of my family first and be emotional second…only I never was emotional. Once I faced the emotions I found peace and was able to ask the questions and process all the stuffed emotions. Looking back on our life growing up, my dad would be the first to tell you that he was the wretch from the old hymn “Amazing Grace“. His life was spared, time was redeemed, and he gave every moment to sharing his story to convert others. Now, I love sharing stories about my dad. His life, his sense of humor, his love of funny and slightly inappropriate greeting cards. Most importantly, I love sharing his testimony of how he ran toward God and never turned his back on Him again.

My next grief journey began in May of 2021, when my love went into the hospital because he was having difficulty maintaining his oxygen levels after being diagnosed with COVID. Actually all three of us had tested positive and were quarantining together. Because of his diagnosis he was admitted into isolation and our only form of communication was via text and the rare phone call due to his requiring an oxygen mask. He had been in isolation for about 10 days when they decided that he needed to be moved to the ICU for more attentive care and support. Two days after moving to the ICU he was placed on a ventilator. One month later, he breathed his last breath. There is so much more to this story. So many ways God showed up and showed off in the face of adversity, but you will hear more about that in the stories that follow. Some you may never hear unless you are in my closest circle of family and friends. There are even a few that I hold dear just to myself and my memories.

Never did I think I would gain the label of widow before being “old” or at least older than what I am now. But here we are. One thing I have discovered in my short journey into grief is that it is not normal for younger people to gain the title of widow. It is not normal to lose a spouse before you are “old”. More than that it is also not normal for people who have gained that title at a young age to talk about their journey or even for others to comfortably ask and talk to widows about their journey. My goal in sharing my story and the stories in this blog are to help normalize this conversation. To help those who have lost a spouse, a parent, a child, anyone who is close to them feel like what they are experiencing is normal, to want to talk to people is normal, to speak with a counselor is normal, and most importantly I want everyone to know that they are not alone in their grief journey.

This is my voice, my story, my experiences, and basically what God has put on my heart to share with you. So, sit back, relax, read, laugh, cry, comment, and share. I would love to hear your story too!