Mr. Bobble-head.

I can't stop thinking about one particular hilarious memory of Lynn.

I am unquestionably introverted.  Lynn used to say,  You dwell in the depths.  I can be silent and almost placid on the outside while worlds are shifting underneath.  I am an intercessor.  I take everything into the depths where I process them, deep unto deep, always open to new revelation from God, (but not always open to sharing them publicly).

There are some strengths to this personality, but many weaknesses!  Not the least of which is my ability to carry insane amounts of stress deep within me.  I am 100% confident that this is why I was diagnosed with "a fibromyalgia-like syndrome" almost 11 years ago.  For me, it's the physical manifestation of carrying all the world's pain. This was NOT God's design for humanity.

Today, I can hear Lynn's voice beside me saying, as he often did, Come on up out of the depths, Babe! He would sort of wobble his head side to side saying, Come on up into the shallows!  See, it's nice up here!

Everyone knows Lynn was anything but shallow!  Still, although being very deep himself, he had this amazing ability to compartmentalize.  He could take that very stressful, burdensome thing, shut it away in a box, file it according to his exhaustive mental filing system, then pick up his IPad and play Tap the Frog for hours!

Once, yes, only once, did I have the nerve to tell him how much he reminded me of a bobble-head when he moved his head from side to side like that.  It didn't go over well.  Still, I laugh about it internally every time.  He was so hilarious...

Lynn, I would give anything to hear your voice today... to lean back into your arms, feel your breath near my face, and hear you say, Come on up out of the depths, Babe.  Everything's going to be okay.  I trust you, but more importantly, I trust the God who is in You.  You and the Holy Spirit are always a majority.  I know you can do it.

Father, hold my bleeding heart today!  Show me the way to walk and I will walk in it!  Lead me in the way Everlasting!

Time.

I started writing my first book today.  It is officially started.  I'm excited to dig into it... to see what God has in store.

I keep thinking about a quote from the book, The Sisterhood of Widows.  (Captivating title isn't it?  Don't you long to read that one!?)  One widow writes, Many people don't know that even when you're laughing you can still be full of pain inside. 

I feel like, for others, time is passing.  Life goes on.  For me, it seems to stand still...

Tonight, I listened while Alea cried out in bed, missing and wanting Daddy.  Then, I listened while Roya spoke reassuringly to her, counselling her through her grief, and reminding her that we'll all be in heaven together soon.  She offered to snuggle Alea in her bed until she fell asleep :)

To Alea, Daddy is just absent and she feels anxious and afraid, continually gnawing on her fingers while drool drops to the floor.  To Roya, Daddy is in heaven, but we'll be with him soon.  In her mind, she just has to wait a little while until we see him again.  She doesn't yet grasp that she has a whole life to live before that time comes.

There is still a long road ahead for my daughters.  There is still a long road ahead for me.

For instance, I still open Lynn's drawers and smell his shirts. (Maybe I shouldn't disclose that information...)  I sleep on his side of the bed, or stretch out in the middle.  I read his cards and letters.  I write.  I try to live trusting that all things work together for the good of those who love [God] and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).  On one form I check "Mrs." because I am technically still Lynn's wife.  On another form, I check "single" because I am not technically married.  Widowhood is complicated.

It seems to be common among widows (there's that word again!) to go at least a year without making any big decisions, allowing time to heal and adjust, not rushing the process...  I've had one month and twelve days.  Also, it seems common among resource counsellors to suggest that grieving a spouse takes longer than you think.  That is to say, I'm going to be in this a while. I'm not going to snap out of it.  Smiling doesn't mean I'm over it.  I've had two good days where I haven't felt like grief is heavy enough to crush me.

I still need more time and it will probably take longer than you think...

Now, I'm asking you to hang in there with me.

Void.

Today, I can't write.

Children grieving.
Other stressful situations.
Continued mountains of paperwork.
Lots of details I can't post.
Casually discussing my husband's death today meeting after meeting...

Even though I am aware of how incredibly blessed I am throughout this "difficult situation", I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

I can't imagine ever getting over the memory of that night.

Mice.

In our house, we get mice.  Every Fall and every Spring, the mice come.  Lynn used to set traps around the house, sometimes after I'd gone to bed, and not tell me about them.  Then, he'd leave for work the next morning without checking them.  So, I'd go about my day, doing whatever, but eventually open a cupboard door or the pantry to see a dead mouse!  It freaked me out every time :).  I'd call Lynn at work just to have the satisfaction of "yelling" at him, knowing he wasn't going to come home from work to remove it.  Still, I wasn't going to remove it!  Yikes!  So, I'd find away around whatever I needed from that particular location until Lynn came home that evening.

Now... I still get mice.  AND... it's Fall.

My Mom and I spent a hilarious way-too-many minutes setting traps before Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.  (We may or may not have had to watch a tutorial on YouTube...)  Sure enough, I came home by myself with the girls Monday night, started putting the groceries away, when I heard it...  It was the sound of the mouse trap banging against my dishes in the cupboard beside me.  I jumped, knowing it was ALIVE, but trapped and right there with my dishes!!!!  The phone rang, and it was Mom checking to see that I made it home okay (precious Moms).  I said, "Mom!  You called just in time!  We caught a mouse and its alive!  What am I going to do!!??"  Roya was still awake at this time, and perked right up.  She was very interested in the prospect of seeing this mouse, whether dead or alive :)  (That's the scientist/analyst in her.)

Mom said, "Call Peter!!"  I was so embarrassed, but I called my sweet neighbours, who came over straight away.  Peter came to help and Lynette came to laugh :)  Roya was fully engaged and loved being awake for the big event.

Soooo, that was Monday.  Peter reset the trap, and I set a couple more.  Today, I heard noises.  I think I caught another mouse.  I called Peter and left a message.

I think I'm going to have to remove it myself!!!  

Waiting.

I might as well tell you that I think I've written a book.  It's not actually written down, exactly... More so in my head.  Dangerous things that take place in my own head...  But it's also in my spirit.  And there are days that I feel like my bones might burst if I don't find a way to write it all down...

When Lynn and I first moved to Truro, I had no idea what God's plan was for me.  We were house sitting, Lynn was settling into his new position at IBC, and I remember sitting and listening for hours, literally hours in prayer, enjoying the season of rest and healing. I was so full of hope,  God's love, and His blessing... But I also assumed that, at some point, in His time, I'd get a "And now for your new assignment" word.  I waited and waited.  I got pregnant, we bought a house, still I waited.  I got pregnant again, Lynn was freaking out, I knew I needed a job, still I waited.  God had been investing in me since childhood, preparing me for a life of ministry, but His hand was heavy on me... wait.  I hate waiting.  I hated it.  I wanted, with every fibre of my being, to be working alongside my husband.  I thought we were the perfect team.  Our gifts seemed so perfectly complimentary and our passions aligned.  So, why wasn't I released?  Why am I still waiting!?

When Lynn died (that is very hard to type), God's Spirit was so powerfully with me.  I knew everything was perfect according to His timing, whether or not it made sense to my human mind.  I knew He was in control and that somehow, Lynn's life was complete.  His death wasn't early or late.  Just on time.

I really believe God knew our family would never get the last several years back. I think He held me in place so I wouldn't miss it.  Instead of running amok in the world (Lynn would enjoy that phrase...), I poured myself into my marriage, knowing it was somehow the right thing.  Before September 2nd, I would have given anything to be released, to sing and write and speak and explore the world and see how I fit in it... But now, I am so thankful for every minute I (tried) to put Lynn first... for every time he came home knowing I'd be there and needing my listening ear, every day I spent praying for him and interceding for his ministry, every tender moment we shared as a family, choosing to love the Lord first and love each other no matter the cost... (I think that makes me sound much better than I actually am.)

Obviously, God was also maturing me, teaching me, refining me, and building a strong foundation under my feet... He was drawing me into His love and cultivating that "quiet" strength people sometimes comment about (which I assure you, is not always quiet!).  Drawing me into Himself is always a part of His plan.  But, that began a long time ago and has been a part of my life even longer than I have known Lynn...

So what now, God?  I know who I am and who you've created me to be.  Where's my next step?  Show me the way.  Lead me in the way everlasting...

Cling.

Today, I feel acutely aware that the road ahead is rougher and tougher than I had first anticipated.  The ache in my heart is penetrating and heavy, like a gaping, bleeding wound that has no cure.  The days are full of distraction and the nights are still filled with, "Is this real? Can this really be happening?"  I still do not grasp the finality of death, that I will not see my beloved husband again this side of glory.  It is still incomprehensible to my stubborn mind.

Most days, I think the three of us feel like Lynn is still away on a trip, off saving the world, making music, touching lives... being Lynn.

So far, I haven't had to face much change.  My house is pretty much the same, and Lynn is everywhere in it.  His memory touches every corner.  I am so comforted in the familiarity that I rarely want to leave.  But change is coming.  I cannot stop it!  No matter how hard I try!

Change is scary on many levels.  Mostly, its in every tiny experience, in every tiny ounce of change, that I am required to walk further away from him (or the memory of him).  In every facet of my life, the music I love so much, the relationships so important to me, the routines and activities I enjoy, etc., I experience this big, overwhelming void.  The whole part of me that was once filled with Lynn's laughter, his love, his music, his companionship, his passion, his opinions and endless soapboxes, his insights and brilliant ideas about the world, his unique approach to life, people, politics, and everything... all of it is just missing.  Where is it?  What do I do without it?  How can the world still turn, the sun continue to rise, without Lynn?  

Of course, this is loss.  This is grief.  This is suffering at one of its most basic human forms.  We all suffer loss at some point in our lives.  And somehow, that comforts me.  I am (slightly) comforted in knowing that the persistent ache in my heart is somehow intrinsically human.  That gives me hope...

Hope.  Here, I have to end with a fascinating discovery.  Truly, I am being carried on the wings of prayer.  So many of you are begging for something more to do, but I must tell you about the influence of your prayers.

A few days ago, I felt for the first time as though I could not go on.  I could not move.  It just got worse and worse until the heaviness hovering over me was enough to break the ground from beneath my feet... I sat in seemingly nothing but pure, raw grief, but became increasingly aware of an amazing sensation.  Heaviness and grief surrounded me and the ground opened up beneath me, I could not go to pick up my kids (they ended up staying the night at a friends), and I tasted the sting of hopelessness... but I had no sensation of falling.  I did not fall.  I was held.  It was as though all the intercessors and loved ones God had called upon to pray for me were tangibly holding me up in prayer.

A friend on PEI (thank you, Anne!) sent me a message, sharing with me a vision from the Lord.  I was clinging to his feet as the storm raged past.  He was calm and said, Just cling.

That is all I can do.  I am relentlessly clinging as the storm rages past.

Please continue to pray.  My precious friends and family, your prayers work. Your love is felt.  I could not do this without you.

Black.

Tomorrow marks one month.  Is that possible?

I love to write, but deliberate over how much to share online... I'm amazed at your comments and thoughtfulness and that you continue to pray.

I wish I had words to describe what I am going through.  For me, it is almost as fresh as day one, minus the constant sensation of needing to "throw up".  I have yet to talk to anyone who's lived through it and can relate.  I do have a woman to connect with down the road, but even then, everyone's grief is unique.

I feel such a burden to connect with all those loved ones who are here, lifting me up in prayer, have offered such support and generosity... I want to thank each one of you from the bottom of my heart, but I find myself unable to cope with the pressures of each day.  I want to give as I love to give... but I find myself vulnerable and weak instead.  My heart is truly broken.  I am the needy one.

Grief has become an astounding topic for me.  Down the road I hope to think on it more and possibly write about it....  There are so many things I am noticing, so many things you become aware of when confronted with death.  There is a raw, basic, human response to death that is often beautiful and full of expression.  But it exists within a culture that seems to quickly cover it up, hide its own humanity, and pretend that death does not exist.  So how is one to grieve?  Tell me?  As a wife who will spend countless months mourning her husband, how do I swallow my emotion to pay the bills, go to countless meetings and appointments, spend hours filling out paperwork, be there for my children and all their needs, go to eye appointments and shop for shoes (for Roya!), and still find the space to grieve?  Where are the weepers and the wailers?  Where is the black dress?

In Christian circles too, we are quick to explain away suffering.  We, as a North American church, do not trust in God's divine goodness, so we fear pain and suffering as though it really might discredit our Maker.  We think that pain means we've sinned, or someone has lost their faith, we need a quick fix.  In short, the North American Church is much like the friends of Job, who did not understand that God's ways are higher than ours, His thoughts higher than our thoughts.

I long for a society that would welcome my weeping (I know many of you would and have!).  I long for the old traditional symbol of wearing black, so everyone can know that I don't fit right now.  I'm not normal.  I can't socialize like I'm supposed to.  One minute I want to weep, another I am stressed and angry, one minute I want to talk, the next I cannot exert the emotional energy to utter a word...

I'm in mourning!  I am needy and out of sorts!  My life is stressful and busy!

I am bringing back the black :)