I’m waiting.

Waiting to see how my health insurance coverage will turn out.

Waiting to see if I have to re-enter the workforce full-time after the first of the year, just to acquire insurance for my family.

Waiting to hear back from a book publisher.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

I feel stuck.  I’m worn.

I’m tired of being chief cook and bottle washer, breadwinner, chauffeur, only parent, landscaping guru, keeper of the vehicles, financial advisor, vacation planner, decision maker—as my father would have said, “jack of all trades, master of none.”

I may look like I’ve got it all together, but this Jesus girl is filled with insecurities about the future.  Heck, I have insecurities about the present.

We made it through the absence of Mark yet again yesterday, on what would have been his 60th birthday.  Five October 25ths without his laugh, his love, his strong hugs, his wisdom, and his physical presence.

It was tough.

For any person reading this still blessed with your significant other, I don’t expect you to get “it.”

“It” will not go away.  (Heaven knows I wish it would at times.)

“It” will not completely heal.

If you think I’m beating a dead horse, so to speak, just do me a favor and quit reading this.  Right now.

Grief is a life-long process for those left behind.

“It” gets better, you heal through the grace of God.

But it’s always there.

If you don’t get it, trust me—someday you will.  For your sake, I hope your “someday” is many, many, many years down the line.

Death is a part of life.

An integral part.

The more I pray about my waiting game, the more I see that waiting for problems such as health insurance coverage, book deals, job possibilities, and the future of my family to be reconciled are trivial.

I should be waiting for the Lord.

He is my problem solver.

He is my portion.

He is enough.

He knows I still cry everyday, at some point, without fail.

He sees how difficult it is to walk into a Sunday School class full of couples, and feel like a fish out of water.

Unfortunately, he hears as I utter a not-so-nice word while trying to crank a self-propelled push mower that will not cooperate.

In one simple verse, the Psalmist David gives me the solution to all my self-imposed problems.

Wait for the LORD.

Be strong.

Take heart.

And wait  

FOR THE LORD.

Psalm 27:14 (NIV)

People will fail to meet my expectations each and every time.

But God?  He fails not.

He doesn’t grow weary.

He doesn’t mind my anger.  He forgives me for saying that curse word over the mower.

He checks in on widows and orphans.  We have a special place in His heart.

He wipes away the hot tears dripping down my face.

He is enough.

If He can bring a dead man back to life, he can most certainly help my family with health insurance.

The photo above is from a series sent to me after Mark’s death.  They document a work trip down the Brazos River several years ago.  I’ve looked at the photos dozens of times, but never noticed this one until now.

All others show a beaming fisheries biologist, doing what he loves and getting paid to do it (how many of us can identify with that?).  His smile lights up every picture.  I needed those.

This photo, however, is a metaphor for my family’s life now.  His back is turned.  He’s got his fishing rod in hand, waders on.  His glorious plan has come to fruition.

At almost 4 1/2 years since his heaven-versary, Mark’s got important things to do.  He knows God has us in the palm of His hand.

In other words, he’s got bigger fish to fry.   And while he is in heaven cheering us on, he knows that God’s got this.

So he can enjoy his happily-ever-after without worries.

His back may be turned, but we’ll never forget his smiling face.

I see it in the increasingly-chiseled features of our 8th grader.  I hear him in the soft wisdom  voiced by our 7th grader.

I feel his hugs while in their strong arms.

I give every trivial, hard, silly, crazy problem to the Lord.

He’s been waiting for me to do it.

I will not be stuck.  I will not be defeated.

I will be strong, take heart, and wait.

For the Lord.