“People learn from one another, just as iron sharpens iron.”

~Proverbs 27:17

I debated on when to write this post, but the last few have been a bit heavy on the emotional side of my story, so as we close out Thanksgiving and round the corner to Christmas I felt that this was the perfect time to speak to my “iron” or according to a sea turtle named Crush from Nemo, my “exit buddy”.

I have been blessed with an amazing family. You know the kind…circle the wagons, drop whatever you are doing to help however you can, and drive 4-6 hours to spend a few hours with those you love only to turn around and drive 4-6 hours back home kind of family. The kind of family that in times where things are smooth sailing it is amazing and annoying all at the same time. Sorry…I really do love all of y’all! The kind of family that shapes your faith, your personality, your strength, and your character. Family also creates lasting memories and boy do we have some amazing memories! If you don’t have at least one family tradition…start one now it is never too late!

This summer was no exception to how my amazing family is and continues to be. You all daily flooded our phones and lives with texts, calls, and visits. You went above and beyond when you provided food, groceries, and other necessities. You also provided comfort, support, and prayers. You rallied around us when we were moving and made sure the process was not stressful. Most of all you made sure Abby and I knew how deeply we were loved and supported. Never have I been so thankful for you…my family.

The next group of people I have been blessed with are those I refer to as my “iron”. Some of y’all have been with me for a long time and others you have just jumped into my circle of iron through this journey. I am who I am today in part because of you. You have challenged me to find out who I am by loving me like Jesus and daily pointing me back to His Word. You have challenged me to be a better educator by not letting me settle for just enough. You encouraged me to chase a dream, that even though it took a while was so sweet when it was finally realized. You have spurred me on to new adventures, taken me to see new places, meet new people, and have given me the encouragement to step out of my type A comfort zone. You have dared me to be more vulnerable both in my daily life and also to share my journey with those around me.

There is another group, an important one that cannot be left out of this post, my community. My community played an important role throughout this summer and my continued journey. They may or may not have showed up in person, but they were consistently supporting Abby, myself, and my family through their prayers, food, kind words, flowers, groceries, monetary gifts and so much more. This group of friends may not be my “bff’s” my “ride or die” or whatever the cool kids call it these days, but they are essential. They are part of my journey. They are my community. I know that I would not be where I am today if it were not for this group of precious people.

Here is what I hope each group of precious people know: I hope you know how thankful I am that you are walking with me through this journey. I hope you know how much I appreciate your love and support. I hope you know how much I value you being in my family. I hope you know how much I value you being my “iron” and I pray that I am “iron” to you as well. I hope you know how much I love that you are part of my community.

If you are already a believer and have tried to establish a community, but it did not work and you’re “over it” please keep trying. Community is that important! Plus, in my experience, our community was definitely a trial and error process. I am an extrovert and my husband was an introvert. These qualities played a huge role in us trying to find community. He was fine with our family and a few very close friends, I wanted more. We tried several small groups, but they weren’t the best fit long term, so we tried what our church calls mid-sized groups. Our small group was our table of people each week in the midst of a larger group. We studied books of the Bible together and challenged each other to think about the Word from different perspectives. He thrived in this environment because it was a theologically academic setting, I thrived because I could talk to all the people! Additionally, to fill my desire for a more traditional small group experience I found a group of ladies that did a few studies with me over the course of a few semesters. These ladies were integral in challenging me to grow spiritually and see myself for the daughter of the King that I am. They are still pouring into my life today!

If you find yourself unable to relate to this post, whether you don’t have an amazing family, “iron” type friends, or even a community that you can depend on when you are in need; please know that this can be found starting with saying yes to a relationship with Christ. He longs to bring you into His family. In addition to saying yes, get involved with a local church, this may also take a few tries to find the best fit, follow peace in this process. This can look like trying different church locations, different service times, Sunday school classes, and different groups the church has to offer. This is where I have found my amazing community and they can help you with your relationships with Christ, with “iron” friendships, and restoring your relationships with family. 

Another factor in trying to find your community may be that you have to step out from behind the screen you are reading this on and go have an actual face-to-face conversation with a real-life person. Through this pandemic we have become so used to “socially distanced” that we have forgotten how to really relate to people. Break that mold, reach out, have coffee, share a meal, or just look up to really see who is around you. There may be people who need to hear what you have to share just as much as you need what they have to share! Remember, iron sharpens iron…Stay sharp my friends!

“May God, the source of hope, fill you with all joy and peace by means of your faith in him, so that your hope will continue to grow by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 15:13

Holidays, why do they alway seem to bring stress? Why do we dread celebrations after loss? Why do we allow Pinterest and Hallmark movies to drive our desire to create the perfect setting and memory making moments? 

To be honest, I would be perfectly fine with not doing any form of celebration this year. It doesn’t seem right. Why should I celebrate and find joy in moments with extended family when my family is missing an important person? I would much rather treat the holidays as just another day with a vacation thrown in for good measure. No decorating, no celebrating, no gifts, no lights, or any merriment. 

Thanksgiving has typically been lowkey. We eat, watch football, and then go bowling. It is a family tradition that was started in Hutchinson, KS when I was a kid by my Gramps who wanted nothing to do with cleaning up and doing dishes! For this reason, looking at this day doesn’t bring me too much dread or stress. I know it will feel different, there will be an empty seat at the table, jokes that won’t be told, and laughs that will not be heard. But I have so much to be thankful for and new things on the horizon. 

I know the reason we celebrate Thanksgiving. We celebrate because it is a time to give thanks for what we have and have been given over the last year. Are you ready for another “why” question? Why should I be thankful after the loss I suffered? Wow…I really went there! But here is my response: I am thankful for my daughter who has been right beside me through every moment. I am thankful for our pup Willa-Dean who is the best at making us laugh and has truly been the perfect addition for this time. I am thankful for my family, without whose support and love we would not have made it to this point in the year. I am thankful for my friends, without whom I would not be where I am and as sane as I am today. I am thankful for my employer, who has been supportive and desires nothing more than to help me achieve mental, spiritual, and physical health so I can be an asset. I am thankful that I have a Heavenly Father that loves me, that puts the right people in my path to show me His love, faithfulness, and His provision this side of heaven. I am thankful that He cares for me and never misses the opportunity to show up even in the smallest moment of need. That is why I am thankful even in the midst of the biggest loss I have faced.

It seems that Christmas is the holiday that is lurking in the shadows. The landmine of merriment, decorations, and celebrations loom in the distance and I want nothing more than to ignore this impending holiday. I have found it difficult to look at Christmas lights. They have been going up all over town, on houses, buildings, trees in the city center and random trees outside neighborhoods. It brings a twinge, a pain that I don’t think I am quite ready to face. But honestly, it was there before Jason passed away. It started Christmas 2007 after losing my dad to cancer. 

My dad loved Christmas. We always had lights on our house, and he and my mom made a big deal out of decorating the tree and the inside of the house. We had snacks and hot cocoa, and lots of popcorn to string up for the tree! I vividly remember those times and it was magical! Christmas morning was no exception. He loved the whole…”wait…I think I see one more gift” trick and we loved seeing what the extra gift or the “family” gift was each year. He loved to add new decorations every year, even to the point of an extensive Christmas village display and a train. After he passed away the magic of Christmas was not the same, the decorations were not the same. The colors were dull, the cookies and popcorn didn’t taste the same. The hot cocoa tasted powdery and bland no matter how many marshmallows you added.  I know that this year will change again. It will have empty moments and joyful moments. 

Christmas is a season where we celebrate the birth of Christ. The birth of Hope. The birth of a promise of eternal life from our Heavenly Father that He has and will continue to keep. So, here is my “why” question for Christmas: Why should I celebrate hope and life in a season where a there was death to not only a person but also to the hope of our future together? Yes, I went there again. 

In Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 it says, “There is an occasion for everything, and a time for every activity under heaven: a time to give birth and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot; a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and a time to build; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace and a time to avoid embracing; a time to search and a time to count as lost; a time to keep and a time to throw away; a time to tear and a time to sew; a time to be silent and a time to speak; a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace.”

These verses explain why I can still have hope, why I can still celebrate, why I can still cry, and why I can still grieve. What I have found to be true in my journey thus far, is that grief for a believer like myself is where sadness, joy, deep loss and hope are beautifully intertwined with the ultimate comforter, the Holy Spirit, at the center covering me. 

So we will be thankful for the time we had, the memories we made, and the memories we have yet to make in the new future. We will celebrate. We will laugh, cry, decorate, and experience the magic of the Christmas season. We will find new ways to come together as a family and celebrate and yet honor the lives of those who have stepped into heaven before us. 

**Disclaimer: This is Part 1 of a two part story. This post covers real and raw thoughts and feelings leading up to the holidays. The rest of the story will reveal how the first holidays without Jason really went and all the ways God showed up and showed us how much He truly loves and cares for us. Stay tuned!

7.7.21 – the day my world changed. The day my love, my best friend, my other half for the last 28 years, my boo took his last breath.

When moments like these happen, time slows, you are disoriented, you move forward but it feels as if you aren’t taking any ground. Remember the jello mold example? This is where it started.

We had been having discussions about if he was still fighting to make it back to us for about a week. We had a meeting with several doctors and his best nurse Heather to talk about what they were seeing from a medical perspective. We asked questions and then proceeded to meet with a hospice representative before leaving on Monday. We had prayed as a family. We had prayed over Jason. We knew the direction we needed to move in and had peace knowing our decision was best for his physical body and health. Tuesday rolled in and Abby spent time in the morning with her dad. This was going to be her time before the family began arriving to say their final goodbyes to have uninterrupted time to talk with and pray over her daddy. I began calling family and friends to update them on the decisions we had made and how best to pray and support us in the coming days.

Tuesday afternoon/evening was my time. It was quiet, it was peaceful. Worship music was playing. I took time to pray and confess healing. But I also took time to talk to him. I spent time just being with him, holding his hand, and talking with the nurses and doctors that came in and out of his room while I was there. Finally, before leaving, I told him that Abby and I would be ok. We had plenty of support both with our family and our community. He was free to make his choice to either fight and stay with us, or rest in the presence of our Heavenly Father. I knew which he would choose.

Wednesday morning the phone rang…it was the hospital. I was expecting this call before it actually came. He was declining. We made some phone calls and headed to the hospital. His favorite nurse and ours, Heather, was there to meet us. She explained that he was struggling to keep his oxygen levels and blood pressure up even with the ventilator turned up to the highest level and all his blood pressure medications maxed out. He was choosing the presence of our Heavenly Father. We played worship music, we prayed, we sat in silence.

He passed away at about 9:00 am on Wednesday morning. It was peaceful because we have the hope of a glorious reunion.

As we gathered as a family we began to ask the following questions: Why? Why me? Why Jason? Why not someone else? To be honest it felt “wrong” to ask questions like these. But in the days following I had people encourage me to keep asking those questions and any others that came to my heart and mind because Jesus asked those questions. When He was praying in the garden, sweating blood, He essentially asked the question “Why me? Could this possibly be someone else’s job?” Then when He was on the cross, He asked God, “Why have you forsaken me?”.

When walking through grief you often find yourself asking the “Why” questions. The questions that you know deep down you will not get an answer but ask anyway in an effort to relieve some of the pain. Feel free to ask those questions. It is not wrong. The example of Jesus asking those questions in a season of life that brought grief and pain is a great example of how our Heavenly Father is inviting us to ask similar questions about our grief and pain. Afterall, relationships are best when they have communication from both parties involved.

We may never know the answer to the “why” questions, but what I do know is that in Philippians 4:6-7 it says, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” It does not say that He will give us an answer, but He will give us peace.

Rest in His peace knowing that His plans will be revealed and make sense one day soon.

During quarantine Jason and I had to get creative on our dates. We were all living and working in the home, so to have time alone where we could talk and decompress, we initiated car dates. Just the two of us would jump in the car and just drive. We loved this time, we would talk about our jobs, the people we worked with, what was good, struggles we were having, and we also took this time to make grocery lists. More than anything we loved our time in the car, on a trip, or just spending time together because we could dream, we could cast vision, and we could just be ourselves…the real us and the part of us that we each knew best.

While Jason was in ICU, drives along our car date route were a regular thing. They were therapeutic. It was a space where I could process, I could talk with God, ask Him the hard questions, sit in the quiet of the car, listen to podcasts, and my driving playlists. The best part about this habit, it is genetic. Abby has always loved a good drive for the same reasons as well.

A good playlist could be worship music, hymns, hype, dance, sing along, or the mix tape playlist. I have all of these as well as music to mow the lawn to, music to go to sleep to, and individual artist playlists all labeled and ready to go! Jason and I shared an account and therefore we each had our own music likes, dislikes, and playlists. He loved heavy metal and I love country music.

I miss my love every day, but I miss him most in those “go for a drive” moments. Those drives when I have something to talk about and want nothing more than to hear his wisdom and encouragement. I also miss those drives to and from places. Even the short drives to and from Church, School, Football games and small groups we would have the best conversations. They were deep and we often challenged each other to grow in our spiritual life, our personal life, and our professional life.

I still go for the drives, often our normal date drive path that we took together. I miss him on those days. I also still miss him when I take the short drives, the daily ones that we took for granted. I still talk with God, ask the hard questions, sit in the quiet of the car, listen to podcasts, drive playlists, and talk with Jason as well.

If you find yourself needing some space or time to process, try going for a drive, but have a playlist ready or be ready to sit in the silence and solitude.

More than the drive, the grocery lists, conversations with your person or the best playlist ever created; the drive was and has been time with my Heavenly Father. He longs for a relationship with us. He longs for us to not only talk with Him, but also create space to listen.

So, as you take the drive and have the conversations, take time to listen, to be quiet. He always has something to say, we often fill the quiet spaces with so much it is difficult to hear the still, small voice.

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!