Opened the drapes in my bedroom this morning, just as the sun was coming up.  I almost never look toward the back of the yard, but a dozen or so Canada geese were flying low, heading over the trail to Lake Wichita.  As my eyes followed them, they rested on the back gate of our fence….it was open.  I sprang into action….all I needed was for the prized Maggie Mae to be loose in the neighborhood.  Thankfully, she was still snuggled asleep, far back in her house.  Upon further examination, one whole board had been removed from the gate, the board with the gate latch.  It was simply standing there, with the gate open.  Got a few nails and a hammer, and put that bad boy back together.  Crisis averted.

As I walked back to the gate with tools in hand, two geese flew over my head, so close I could practically reach out and touch them.  I know Mark, I know…you’re watching over us.

Began the tedious involved process of house cleaning today.  I have family coming in T minus 48 hours. Our housekeeper’s coming tomorrow, and Mark always joked that I was the only person on the planet that would clean a house before someone came to clean.  I countered with the argument that I was technically not cleaning, but picking up clutter so that she could do her job more efficiently.

Whenever the boys go to bed, I lay with them for awhile.  It’s a good time for us to unwind, and we had been praying aloud.  We discontinued that, it seems to upset them too much right before they are going to sleep…so I pray silently as they are drifting off to sleep.  I find it to be the most relaxing time of the day, as I lay next to a sleeping angel of a boy.  If you look closely, you can still see the remnants of their cherubic baby faces while they sleep.  Laying there in the dark, praying to my God in heaven, I feel rejuvenated and at peace. 

Yes, I’m sad.  Yes, I may still cry.  But life goes on, whether I like it or not.  Do I want to continually look back and wonder “what if?”, fully knowing that it will do nothing but keep me in turmoil.  Wondering what we could’ve done does my family no good in the here and now…and I believe that the only way for us to move forward in this journey is to let the “what ifs” go.  I know of too many people who let the “what ifs” consume them, and keep them in a perpetual state of grieving that they may never get through.  I do not want that for me or my boys.  We can mourn Mark, we can miss him, we can honor him.  All of this can be done while continuing to live life and move forward. 

As we watched the first game of the World Series tonight, we missed Mark greatly.  He lived for October sports…World Series, NCAA Football, NFL, and the beginnings of college basketball.  I told Andrew that I’m sure Mark will be with us at the game Saturday night….Andrew chuckled and replied, “Mom, he’ll have a front row seat, alot better than what we have!”  Maybe he can spend some time in the nosebleed section with us, too 🙂

Today was a good day.  Ben is back at almost 100% (his inner “Ben-dozer” is coming alive once again!), Andrew had a great day, despite taking a hockey stick to the mouth (I’d welcome one day this week without the school nurse calling), and I got several of my small things accomplished.  I just keep coming back to the word “thankful”…..

I’m thankful for the two boys God gave to Mark and me to raise.  We waited a long time before having them, and they were well worth the wait.  Although I’m sad that Mark’s no longer here alongside us physically, he is with us in spirit.  And these boys were so loved by him….many people live entire lives without the kind of love that these kids got in 9 and 8 years.  Their daddy made quite the impression on them, along with everyone else he came in contact with.  Although it wasn’t long enough for us, it was long enough to make a lasting, loving impact on both boys.  They are flourishing, despite the enormous change that’s come into their lives, and it’s my mission to see that continues.  I am so very proud of them both.

I’m thankful Mark was such a good manager of time and money.  He was astute in all areas of business and planning, savvy, level-headed, and frugal when he needed to be (he thought I should try to be more often).  He made sure that we, his family, would be provided for, no matter what.  That is such a blessing.   He took the head of household title very seriously, and if anything, I’m struggling to take on many of those responsibilities because he did them so well, making them seem easy and effortless….and they are not.

I’m thankful for such a large loving support system of family and friends, stretching from Oregon and Washington, going through Kansas, Texas, Kentucky, Tennessee, Maryland, and Massachusetts.  I’m sure I’ve left out a couple of states, but you get my drift.  There are folks praying for our little family on a consistent, regular basis, and we can feel it.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’m thankful that I have a Father that understands what I’m going through.  I have a Savior who walked this earth in human form, who has experienced every emotion that I can possibly feel, so he can identify with me…he can comfort me…he can show me that there are better days ahead.  And that Holy Spirit that he left with us?  There are times that I truly feel like I’m being carried by that spirit, because I can’t walk this path on my own.  The power that can be tapped into is amazing, I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface on what God can do in our lives if I just let Him.   

I’m thankful that I have family travelling our direction this weekend.  My mom will be returning to help out, along with my uncle (her brother) and aunt (his wife) from Illinois.  They will stay a few days and return home, leaving Mom here.  She’ll stay on for at least a couple of weeks.  It will be wonderful to have an extra set of hands around here.  I’m sure we’ll cry together, laugh, and remember how great her son-in-law was.  She told me that she never worried about me after I met Mark; she knew that no matter what, he would protect and take care of her grandsons and me.  That’s the best compliment a mother-in-law can give. 

I’m thankful I got my dog back today.  Yes, the bird dog that Mark loved and hunted for only one short year.  She’d been in doggie detention while the shed was being built and today she was released on good behavior.  I’ve struggled with whether to keep her or not, because she was bred to hunt.  It’s what she lives for, it’s how she’s wired.  She’s high-strung, head-strong, and full of energy.  But as I paid her tab and waited for the tech to bring her to me, I actually got excited.  I was so happy to hear the clickety-click of her newly-pedicured feet as she came down the hallway.  Whenever she saw me, the look on her face made my day.  And in that moment, I knew that I would not be getting rid of Miss Maggie Mae of Dallas.  She’s mine now.  Whether Andrew and I hunt her next year, or breed her, none of that matters.  She is a member of this crazy little family, and we will figure out the rest as we go. 

Finally, I’m thankful I had the opportunity to know and love such a great guy for 25 years.  He had great convictions, he followed his heart, and he truly made a difference in this great big earth.  I hope I can continue to make him proud by doing the same.   

What would Mark do?  I find myself asking that question as I encounter day-to-day issues and problems that I’ve never had to deal with before.  It’s comforting to think about what he would advise or do in certain situations; then, there are other times where I know I must step out of my comfort zone (and definitely out of his) and make a decision based on what’s best for the Howell family, party of three.

Case in point:  the decision to buy a storage building for our property here.  For years, I have asked, pleaded, begged for Mark to consider purchasing some sort of storage shed for our yard.  He would always politely decline, telling me that we would be moving to Kansas in a short while, “where there are storage buildings out the wazoo!”  In other words, no, that was money we weren’t going to spend.  After his death, the riding lawnmower positioned on my back porch just outside my dining area windows taunted me on almost a daily basis.  My garage is full.  I have an office full of Mark items at TPWD that need to be boxed and brought home at some point.  So, I made the decision to buy a storage building.  It’s amazing what one can do with a credit card and a high-speed internet connection.  Long story short, it was delivered last week, constructed Saturday by an able-bodied group of men from our church (thank you, guys!), and is ready for filling.  That decision is not one he would have made; nevertheless, it’s one I had to make in the best interest of my sanity and our family.

Case in point, two:  My dryer broke last Friday.  Well, to be specific, the rotary start switch broke.  Again, the wonders of the internet continue to astound me.  I was able to diagnose the problem, get the part number, called to various repair centers to get the best price, ordered it, picked it up today, and $9.63 later, I fixed the problem.  Hallelujah.  It felt so empowering, a woman fixing a large appliance.  No service call, no high priced installation.  Just me, the switch, and a screwdriver. Took less than thirty seconds.  That’s something Mark wouldn’t have probably attempted…he would’ve called the repair man and paid the service call.

Case in point, three:  2011 World Series.  Between the Texas Rangers and Mark’s and my favorite childhood team, the St. Louis Cardinals.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my two favorite teams, going head-to-head in the Big Dance.  Every year, we’d look at the Rangers schedule, hoping for an interleague series between the two powerhouses, but no luck.  Until now.  If Mark were alive, I think he would’ve been scouring the internet for he & Andrew a couple of World Series tickets.  Mark loved to tell the story of how, at age 12, he was taken by his grandfather on a train from Kansas to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals play.  That was a memory he never forgot.  That story kept replaying in my mind as I prayed and deliberated today.  Do I bite the bullet and see if I can swing two tickets to Saturday night’s game?  Am I crazy to justify paying that amount of money for “just” a baseball game? 

Well, it’s not “just” another baseball game.  Andrew breathes, lives, and loves baseball, particularly major league baseball.  Quite probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, an opportunity to make the kind of memory for us that Mark and his granddad had.  So, I bit the bullet.  Pulled out the credit card, took a deep breath, and purchased tickets to Game 3 of the 2011 World Series.  My son and I, we’ll go with our two closest friends, the ones that stood by me as Mark made his transition from earth to heaven.  And I hope that I’m doing what Mark would have done, even though he would’ve hesitated initially on spending the money.  There are some things you can’t put a price on. My hope is that someday, Andrew will tell his children (our grandchildren!) about the 2011 World Series game that he and his mom attended, shortly after the death of his beloved daddy.  And I hope he tells them he had the time of his life.

So, as I’m looking out my bedroom window at my new storage shed, folding clothes I just removed from my newly-fixed dryer, contemplating on what combination of Rangers/Cardinals clothing to wear on Saturday night, I feel both melancholy and happy.  Life is still good, even without Mark’s physically being around.  But it’s also extremely hard, and sad, and lonely.  I never fully understood the meaning of “bittersweet” until I lost him….because bittersweet is what I will feel as I sit in the stands of Section 314 Saturday night in Arlington, Texas, happy that I’m at the game, but wishing it were Mark there with A.J. instead of me.  But since he can’t be there, I will be doing my best to make it the most memorable night our 9 year old has ever had.  I imagine that Mark will be watching us, smiling from ear to ear, nodding his head, and hopefully approving my decision. 

Because if I’ve learned one thing this year, it’s that life is indeed short.  You never know how many days the good Lord will let you hang around.  So live each day to the fullest.  And if you have the opportunity to make a memory with someone you love more than anything, don’t let a little thing like money stand in your way.  Just do it.

Glancing at the calendar, I see that Mark’s birthday is a little over a week away.  I’m dreading it.  He, “Mr. Fun,” would always say that it was tradition, the birthday boy could get anything he wanted on that day.  And boy, did he ever try!  I’d prepare his favorite breakfast–homemade french toast, sausage, and grape juice–even if it meant getting up extra early.  There was usually a cake involved, too, and we’d let him choose a special place to eat dinner.  I have photographic evidence of more than one birthday celebrated at Texas Roadhouse, where he would never decline straddling the saddle while the staff whooped & hollered, wishing him a happy birthday.  Where I would never have climbed on that saddle, he looked forward to and relished the option.  He lived life to the fullest, each and every day.  He didn’t let an opportunity, saddle or otherwise, go to waste.  “Living like Daddy”…..he’s a tough act to follow.

I also see that I’ve been blogging a full month now.  As I take a bit of time to re-read my posts, I can see that I’m still on that roller coaster, although some days seem less bumpy than they did a few weeks back.  Immersing myself in God’s word, calling on Him whenever the loneliness gets almost too much to bear, and dedicating myself to being the best parent I can be for Andrew and Ben has kept me going. 

Mark’s Aunt Elsie, sent a book to me last week, “Big Shoes,” which is a young widow’s story of loss, pain, and renewal.  Her husband died at age 35, after a year-long struggle with a lung disease and subsequent transplant.  Their son was only 4.  I hungrily read that book from cover to cover in less than two days.  There are so many differences in our stories…they had a year to prepare for his possible death.  We had less than one day!  I woke up after 3 hours’ sleep to a phone call from Mark’s ICU nurse, telling me that he was worse.  From 7am that morning to almost midnight that night, I had to come to grips with the fact that he would not be going home with me, but would be going home to the Father.

 Looking back, I don’t know how I did it.  Those hours seemed to drag in some respects, but passed like the twinkling of an eye in others.  He couldn’t communicate with words, but his eyes and his touch spoke volumes.  And what he couldn’t say in words, I said.  I don’t think I stopped talking, singing, or praying that entire time.  I left nothing unsaid.  I have no regrets, other than not having him with us for another 40 years. 

Church had its tough moments for me today.  I made it through “Blessed Assurance” almost the whole way without crying, losing it only at the very end.  The boys went to children’s church, leaving me alone in the pew.  That was Mark’s and my time together, just the two of us, during sermon time.  But whenever I saw the final hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” I knew I was in trouble.  That hymn was one of his favorites.  And if you’ve never been around Mark whenever he would sing, you don’t know what you’ve missed.  He approached singing like everything else, giving it his all.  His robust, engaging tenor voice was fun to listen to.  I loved to watch whenever he sang in the choir, because you could see by the expression on his face that he was truly worshipping God in that instance. 

Made it through the first verse/chorus….started breaking up in the second….but during the third, I just lost it.  If you don’t know the words, the third verse concludes with ‘strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow, blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.‘ And as the final chorus was sung, I just stood and cried.  Big old tears dripping down my face.  ‘Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness! Morning by morning, new mercies I see; all I have needed thy hand hath provided; great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!’  I’ve heard him sing it many times, heard him humming it at home even more. 

As we readied for the benediction, I opened my hands, just as I’ve watched him do for years.  And I silently asked God to keep providing me and my boys with what we need.  God’s faithfulness to us will see us through. 

Amen.

Hopeful that this weekend will be better than the last.  Ben is finally on the mend, after a week of being sick.  His pneumonia seems to be breaking up, and his fever is gone, at least for today.  He felt well enough to go with us to see our counselor this afternoon, then went out with our college-aged neighbor friend for some guy time at the arcade and Burger King. 

As we were driving to the counselor’s office, Andrew, out of the blue, pipes up with, “Mom, I’m so glad Dad didn’t take that job in San Angelo a few months back!”  And to be honest, that whole incident had slipped my mind.  Mark was approached by another boss in TPWD to see if he would be interested in applying for a job in San Angelo, which would be the head of River Studies for the state.  He considered all the options, but we decided it would be best for us to stay put, especially since we were looking at retirement in 2013.  It was the right decision.  But Andrew, he was right….if we had moved to San Angelo, and this had happened to Mark there, we would’ve been in a strange city, with no close friends nearby, and certainly not the wide support system we have here in Wichita Falls.  I thought that was a very astute and mature observation from my 9 year old.  Whenever we shared that with our counselor, he said that God must’ve had His hand in that decision for a reason.

I think God has His hand in all facets of our lives, if we let Him.  We had a postcard-perfect summer, up until Mark’s surgery.  We played, we swam, we vacationed….we did all the things that we’d hoped for and planned for.  I took Ben to Space Camp in Kansas in June, driving there for the first time without Mark.  I took both boys with me to Kentucky in July, for my class reunion & family time, driving without Mark for only the second time.  He was so impressed that I was able to drive without him (he always insisted on driving whenever we were together).  I look back and see that God was preparing me for life without him, even then.  I proved to myself that I was capable.  Mark and God knew it all along.

I am now the head of this family.  I know there will be bumps and curves in the road, but I am confident that as long as I put my trust in God, that our family will survive and prosper.  Mark prepared me as well as he could before leaving.  He always told me not to sell myself short, that I was capable of doing anything I set my mind to.  And it looks like I have a chance to do that now. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’d never choose this path.  I liked being in the passenger’s seat, content on the long drives to nap, read, listen to music, referee the boys when necessary, while Mark did all the driving.  He’d consult me for navigation issues, and we’d discuss major decisions.  But I drew comfort in knowing that he would take care of us, no matter what happened.  Losing that was like losing my safety net. 

So, now I might sometimes feel like I’m working without a net.  But I know we’re not alone.  Where I was content to let Mark do the heavy lifting in the family, now God’s taken that over.  These past two days have shown me that I can stay plenty busy doing the small things that require all my time and attention; I haven’t had a chance to worry about the big things.

 I think that maybe God has given me all of these little things so that I physically can’t deal with anything else.  And by doing so, I’m starting to see that the big things are best left to my heavy-lifting Father.  And even my stubborn, proud self can’t deny that God is doing a better job with them than I ever could. 

Today was a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad” day, and no, my name is not Alexander.  Awoke to Ben not feeling better, still running fever.  Okay, I accepted the doctor’s nurse telling me yesterday to add mucinex 3 times a day.  Today, that didn’t cut it.  My little guy has felt like crap since last Friday night, fever, malaise, no appetite, coughing, sweating….you get the picture.  Called today only to find out our doctor was off today.  No matter, I demanded to see someone, and we quickly were given to one of the nurse practitioners.  She listened to his lungs, immediately ordered a chest xray, and diagnosed him with pneumonia, left lower lung lobe totally clouded.  With a breathing treatment in the office, and four new prescriptions, we hope to see improvement soon.  Glad I followed my instincts and pushed today, can’t imagine what shape he would’ve been in otherwise.

After that, we came back home for awhile.  Wonderful church friends are coming over this Saturday to assemble a 8 x 10 storage building for us.  The pieces are in two heavy cardboard boxes, waiting in the backyard.  I anticipated the boxes being opened Saturday, but my German shorthaired pointer evidently couldn’t wait that long.  I glanced out into the backyard to see pages of the instruction manual floating all over the place!  Found a bag of screws and various small pieces that had been removed. The guilty party was kenneled while I gathered up the various pieces and called the vet to see if there was a doggie hotel spot open for Miss Maggie Mae until after the building’s completion.  She got the last slot.  Ben & I took her there post haste. 

Upon our return, I began looking at the chewed up manual.  There are 4 manuals, actually, in English, French, German, and Spanish.  Maggie just decided to chew up the German one.  Maybe something to do with her heritage?  Or the fact that Mark was born in Germany??? Not sure about either of those, but as exasperated as I was, Mark Howell had better not be laughing at me…..
Ben taped together the few English pages she was just beginning to taste as I caught her in the act.  We should be all systems “go” for Saturday. 

Didn’t want to leave Ben alone, so he went with me to Home Depot, where we had a list of things to purchase for the building’s foundation.  This list included 6 pieces of lumber, 10 feet long, and 26 bags of pea gravel.  I admit it, I pulled a bit of a “poor female” routine to get some much-needed help.  I had no stinking idea where these things were in the store.  I found a sympathetic female employee, and we started gathering up items.  I washappy to see our dear friend Jacob in the lumber area.  He postponed lunch to help load lumber and gravel.  With Mark’s Toyota pickup bed filled, we headed back home…again…and I unloaded every piece of it, all by myself. Mark would’ve been proud. 

Add a run to the bank and the pharmacy to pick up much-needed prescriptions.  Check.  And I recycled, filled both vehicles with gas, and washed two loads of laundry.  Even typing this makes me tired.

This is a different sort of blog entry for me.  No great deep philosophical truths revealed to me.  No messages from up above.  This was just a normal busy day in the life of me.  I was too busy to have time to think, too busy to feel sorry for myself, too busy taking care of my sick child. Too busy taking care of the little details that God trusts me with, while I’m giving all the big stuff to Him.  And that’s okay.  There are plenty of days to miss my better half.  Plenty of days to cry.  Plenty of days to think of what might’ve been.  But today, well, today, I just lived.  I accomplished much.  And it feels good.

As we watch the Rangers in the ALCS, we can’t help but miss Mark.  His big “man chair” sits empty for part of the game, but sooner or later one or two of us cozy up in it.  It just doesn’t seem like he should be gone.  I catch myself thinking that he’s just away in Austin on business, but then in a millisecond my brain and heart remind me that he’s not coming back. 

He loved baseball.  Breathed it, drank it, ate it, could rattle off statistics, starting lineups, pitching rotations, etc.  Andrew has the same love; it’s been hard watching the playoffs without his dad, but I’m trying my best to fill the gap.  I’m certainly not as knowledgeable as his daddy was, but I can hold my own, especially for “a girl.” 

We’re slowly but surely finding our way through this maze of grief.  I know that the best way to honor Mark and his life is to remember how great he was and continue to move forward.  He had faith that I could carry on without him.   He knew that I would put the boys’ welfare and best interests in the forefront, just as he did.  He would want us to live.  He would want us to have fun. And I want that, too, for all three of us. It’s scary being without your best friend and better half standing with you— I may never get used to the extra responsibility, but I’m doing it.  I could not do it without the wonderful support system of friends & family, and the great number of prayers going up for our little family of three. 

When I met him, I was only 22 years old.  I did alot of growing up while married to him.  Most of what I stand for and believe in is due in large part to being his partner for a quarter century.  He led this family in faith and in grace, and he loved these boys more than anything else on this earth.  They are his legacy, a big piece of him that’s living on.  Above everything else, I want them to have as normal a life as possible, even without an earthly dad beside them….and I want them to just be boys.  As I told Andrew shortly after Mark died, “I just need you to be a 9 year old kid….I’ve got the rest.”

I’ve had to make several head of household decisions in the past two months, and that alone, is hard, whenever one is used to having a partner to bounce ideas off of, and discuss the pros and cons.  My sounding board is gone.  Yet another reason for me to put everything in God’s hands and at His feet.  Whether it’s choosing a new electric provider, buying new tires for my car, or purchasing an outdoor shed for all of our extra stuff, it’s all new to me. 

On top of everything else, Ben’s still sick.  His fever, although getting lower, is still not back to normal.  Poor kid, he’s sleeping during the day, his appetite is terrible, and he alternates between hot flashes and cold sweats.  Hoping the fever breaks by Thursday, he’s tired of being at home. Another reason to miss daddy, he was able to use sick time to stay at home if the boys needed him.  What a great dad, huh?  I went off to work while he stayed home and took care of our boys.  Is it any wonder that we miss him?

Tonight, we celebrated the Rangers winning game 4 of the ALCS, the boys are snuggled asleep in bed, and that big chair looks empty once again.  But I know that he is watching over us, and I can feel God’s hands on us in everything that we do. 

And my hands?  Why, they are wide open.  I make sure of it every time I pray, hopeful that God will continue to guide my decisions and fully expecting Him to fulfill Jeremiah 29:11– “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord.  “plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

So much for an exciting 3 day “hip hop partyin'” weekend.  That’s how Mark would describe any weekend where we had an extra day off.  And more often than not, with Mark it was a non-stop partying weekend, fun stuff going on most all the time. 

Initial plans for a trip to Kansas were nixed, as Andrew told me he wasn’t ready to be at the farm “without Daddy.”  Since I told them that we would make major decisions like this, the three of us together, I added in my vote, as well.  I’m not ready to be at the farm without Daddy, either.  We’ll  maybe try again next month. 

Glad we didn’t travel, since Ben boy came home with a fever Friday night & headed to bed for a 2 hour nap.  That’s so unlike our Benny, I knew something was up.  He fought fever and coughing all weekend, so I took him to the doctor this morning.  Bronchitis is the diagnosis, for both of us, actually.  Mark would love the fact that we got a “2 for 1” at the clinic as the pediatrician listened to my chest and prescribed antibiotics for me as well.  All for the low price of one co-pay, $25 🙂

Poor Andrew, he’s been so good to help take care of his brother, even helping cool him down with ice & cold compresses on more than one occasion this weekend.  We’ve tried two nights to get to the cinema to watch “Real Steel”, but Ben’s afternoon fevers have put the brakes on those plans.  Andrew broke down & cried this afternoon, as Ben’s temp spiked back up.  I think everything is a bit more emotional for all of us, so I let him cry as long as he needed to.  Crying is healing, whether over spilt milk, modified plans, or missing a loved one. 

As I waited for Andrew in the car during his guitar lesson, I did some praying and soul-searching.  In my mind, I kept coming back to a weekly image of Mark, every Sunday morning in church.  As we’d stand for the benediction, he would open his hands upward, placing them on the back of the pew in front of us, in sort of a cupped position.  He would hold his head up high, eyes closed, smiling like he was taking in the warmth of a beautiful summer’s day.  At the end, he’d give a robust “Amen” along with the pastor.  It was almost like he was “drinking in” the warmth of the Savior to help him as he left to prepare for his always-busy week.  Even if we were holding hands, he’d drop my hand to do this. 

Then I thought of my journey since losing him.  I haven’t been looking up towards my God with hands totally open, like my husband did.  My hands have been clenched, even if just a tiny bit, to keep from putting everything at God’s feet.  Don’t know why I’m doing it….okay, yes I do……I like to be in control.  As Mark would tease, “So, how’s that working for you, sweetie?” And I would have to admit, not so well. 

So today, I sat in the parking lot of Great Neck Guitars in Wichita Falls, Texas, and cried out to God to forgive me for holding back.  I told Him that I was opening up my hands, letting everything fall out of them, so He can work His ways in me.  Giving Him 80, 90, even 95 percent isn’t enough.  He requires all 100%.  And as smart as I’d like to think that I am, I’m not smart enough or wise enough or savvy enough to walk through this mess without turning all my worries over to Him. 

And when I’m tempted to hold back, to worry about one or two little things I cannot control, like what we’re going to do for the upcoming holidays, or what to do with my bird dog, or where God wants us to live in the next few years…..I will consciously think of that sweet image of the man I loved for over half of my life, holding his hands open to God and receiving His full blessing.  Maybe THAT’S why he had such confidence and calm with whatever life dealt him (us), even up to the end of his life.  Because he wasn’t afraid of dying, he was only afraid of leaving us behind. 

His being afraid of leaving us behind is all the incentive I need.  I will keep my hands open, because I know he’s watching over us.  And I don’t want to disappoint him.  His family will remain intact, whole, and be happy again, eventually.  With outstretched open hands, I ask for it, expectantly. 

  
Rain!  Hallelujah, Wichita Falls is getting rain.  Cool, steady rain.  Rain after the longest, driest, hottest summer on record.  If only Mark were here, he’d be out in it, dancing….

Seeing the forecast, I rushed to put fresh batteries in our digital rain gauge.  Barely got them installed & outdoor gauge reattached to fence before it started.  Mark, being a Kansas farm boy, was always big on weather, particularly rain.  I’ve been travelling to his parents’ farmhouse for almost a quarter century, and the kitchen’s old chalkboard always has the daily rain amount posted.  Good farmers must keep track of such important information.  The chalkboard, something that’s been in that farmhouse forever, is something my sentimental husband wanted from his mom whenever she eventually moves.  I still want it for our boys. 

Picked a lone jalapeno pepper today from a plant he tended through the dry summer.  Before he went into the hospital, he asked me to keep it alive….believe me, it hasn’t been easy.  But patience, regular watering, and keeping the rabbits away worked, and I know he’s smiling & nodding that it’s producing.  Guess I’ll have to eat it with supper.  There’s something very comforting about nurturing something that he started.  (Now that’s a sentence that will require a whole other posting).

Tough day yesterday as I spent a counseling session without the boys.  Didn’t know that I could cry so hard, so long, or so continuously for 45 minutes, but I did.  What is it about that one-on-one counseling that allows me to just open up my very soul and everything comes spilling out?  It’s cathartic and exhausting, simultaneously. 

Struggling to find a way to tell the counselor what I was feeling, it came to me like an epiphany.  Our lives with Mark were like a beautifully-built Lego castle, every piece put into place.  Whenever he died, it’s as if someone came along and kicked the castle into pieces, and they are scattered everywhere.  I’m trying my best to scurry around and pick up the various pieces, and striving to find some way to put things back together again.  I know it won’t be the same, or as perfect as it was before, but it needs to be done.

The counselor, who chooses his words carefully, told me that I was trying too hard to do too much too quickly.  He advised me to “leave the pieces where they are” for awhile.  And to let God lead me when the time comes to begin picking up those pieces. 

He’s right.  I’m wanting to be “done” with this process.  That doesn’t mean I love my husband any less–if anything, it’s because I love him so much that I can hardly stand this.  This hurts.  It’s on my mind every waking second.  He’s in my dreams every night.  I see the longing in both of our sons’ eyes as they miss him, miss his touch, his laugh, his rough-housing with them. 

The counselor asked me if I enjoyed Mark.  Well, heck yes, that’s the understatement of the year, sure I enjoyed him!  He then told me that he has people sit in my chair frequently who did not enjoy their loved ones while they were alive, and they have regrets after their death.  My only regret was that we didn’t have him for 40 more years. 

Today, I start taking his advice.  I’m going to try to be content and leave the pieces where they are, and just seek to get the day-to-day “have tos” completed.  I will aim to keep my “way-A” type personality under control, and let God work His plans in His time. 

Okay, if you’ll excuse me, I “have to” step over a bunch of Legos….I need a recipe that calls for an organically-grown fresh jalapeno pepper. 

After a down day yesterday, where I allowed myself to feel angry at my husband, our situation, and choices made, I decided to make today a more positive one, if God would give me a little help.

I know that it’s okay for me to be angry, acknowledging the emotions & dealing with them is an important part of this whole sad process.  I also know I can’t be impatient, this takes time….but I have two little boys looking to me for strength & guidance, and although I make sure they see me grieve, cry, and miss their daddy, I want them to have confidence and assurance that I can move forward in this new unwanted role of both mom and dad.  Now, that would be hard for a 100% sane person, imagine what it’s like for someone who has lost her best friend and mate of 25 years! 

I think I realized today why he & I were so perfectly matched, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.  We came together, married, and immediately moved 700 miles away from all friends and family.  We knew no one in Maryland!  We didn’t even have a place to live, Mark just had a job waiting.  For our marriage, it was the best thing we could’ve done.  Without anyone to run home to, or call, or cry to, or leave with, we had each other…and each other only.  We developed a deep attachment, friendship, and love that was indestructible.  And it only got better as time passed.  My heart still skipped a beat everytime he even looked my way.  All girls (women) should be so lucky. 

Feeling better about things, I hit the Lake Wichita trail.  About 6 weeks ago, I had a chance encounter with a lovely Christian lady and her dog on the trail.  She could tell I was upset, and asked how I was doing.  Boy, she was probably sorry she asked.  Long story short, she listened to me, hugged me, prayed for me, and told me she would continue to do so.  Haven’t seen her again….until today. 

I could tell it was her from a distance, her dog was distinctively large.  She was surprised I remembered both of their names.  She immediately asked how I was, and said she’d been looking for me every day she was on the trail.  As we stood and shared, two sisters in Christ, the tears began rolling down her cheeks.  She’s faced trials, too.  When I told her our family was in counseling & in the Hospice Building Bridges program, she raised her hand up in praise to God.  She told me that she has been praying for me on a daily basis….a woman I’ve only met one time, 6 weeks ago!  How awesome is that?  We parted, sure we’d meet another day on the trail. 

As I headed home, I heard the distinctive squawk of a red-tailed hawk.  He was above me, not hunting anything, not going really anywhere, but was just gliding and soaring on those majestic wings God gave him.  The wind was pretty brisk, so he was getting lots of lift.  I stood and watched as he ducked and turned in the bright sun for a full 2 minutes. 

Tonight before dark, Ben and I headed outside for a little “green time” while Andrew finished 4th grade homework.  We decided to do chalk drawings on the driveway.  As we drew, we talked.  I told him, “Benny, you know Daddy is always close by.  I told him before he died, that we would need him, and I think if you listen close enough, you can feel him, too.”  He nodded & kept drawing.  Not 30 seconds later, a succession of Canada geese passed over us, in groups of a dozen or so.  The first groups were pretty high in the sky.  Each group seemed to fly over a bit lower, with the last two barely topping the trees in our front yard.  Even Ben remarked, “Dad, okay, I think we know you’re here, thanks for the geese.”

As my blog entries go, this one may seem a bit disconnected, but really it’s not.  I started today wishing for something better than yesterday, and that came in three striking examples:  seeing a new friend again after a chance encounter, watching a red-tailed hawk play my own personal air show, and listening to a 100-geese serenade as Ben & I watched the lovely sunset from our front yard.

The irony of experiencing all three of these while I was in the great outdoors today was not lost on me.  When Mark’s close by, these will be the ways in which I will feel him…in God’s beautiful creation where he was most at home. 

It’s still hard, and it still mostly stinks.  But we’re still standing.  And praying.  And walking.  And doing what needs to be done.  The rest will come in God’s time. 

p.s.  Dear God, thanks for the signs.  And Your help 🙂