Tammy Rene Pierce

How I remember that Sunday after church when a darling teenager, beautiful dressed, ran across the parking lot and straight into my heart.  

Tammy Rene Pierce, my confident, wise, forever friend.   My treasure…

Tammy's frame may have been small, but her heart was huge. It had to be; Tammy's super-sized God lived there and she never missed an opportunity to teach me about his great love.

Tammy taught me equally big lessons about living well.

Acts of kindness really do matter. 

When I lost my four-legged friend, Tammy sensed my hurt and immediately placed me on her permanent mailing list.   I could look forward to cut-out dogs and hand-printed love.  I’ll miss my “Tammy Mail.”

Pray, pray, and pray some more!   

When life weighed heavy with struggles and grief, I knew Tammy's faithful prayers were the first to reach God.  Simple, persistent prayers offered with great love and firm belief.

Some days you have to tell it like it is!

Tammy rarely beat around the bush.  We called it the "Gospel according to Tammy" at the Moore house…  All were treated equally and very few escaped her matter -of- fact opinion and you know;  she was usually right.

Life's little pleasures should be treasured.

Diet Coke breaks are best with a friend, life is well spent  in a sewing circle, bath products in duplicate ease the mind,  and family never grows old.

Tammy Rene Pierce, you've taught all of us how to live with big faith and a kind smile, to soar above great obstacles and now, how to run with courage straight into the arms of Jesus.

Sweet Tam, if I might borrow your own words.  I love you very, VERY much, my special friend.

Oh God, I don't think my heart can withstand any more loss! I understand why folks guard them so tightly, especially the loosely bandaged ones.  Please don't make me open myself to another season of painful goodbyes; I've bled enough!
I'm crushed. I'm broad-sided once again.
I want to ask the "whys," but I'm not even sure You will answer.
All of my new dreams are shattered...I'm not building anymore.

Six months have passed and I still have no idea how to do this thing called grief.   The professionals advise leaning into the pain, giving significance to this great loss, sharing the hard journey, but to whom?  I want to keep Rob's life in front of the world, but when do I pack him up and keep him to myself? The audience dwindles as it should. Life goes on for those who have been badly bruised by his loss, but how am I to live when a huge part of me died on that early December morning? Those who have lost a spouse get it;  those who have not, don't. I don't fault them and sincerely hope they never have to understand such loss. 
I loathe being pitied or the center of attention. I just want Rob's life to be celebrated. Maybe, if I keep him alive in our thoughts, the blow of death won't crush the spirit so fiercely?  I hate not hearing his name; how does someone live and give so well for six decades suddenly fail to exist? On the other hand, I worry that I worship his absence more than my God who is always present.  So many questions!  
I've noticed that after a while, those who have lost a spouse rarely speak freely about their mates.  I don't get it; it actually frightens me. Will I grow silent?
Will I put "Rob" in a box and place him on a shelf? Perhaps, they surrendered when the interest grew cold.  I want to scream, "You don't have to. I want to hear! I don't care how long it has been, they are still alive in you." They are, aren't they?
I have no answers to tie this post with an obligatory neat bow. All I know is half a year has passed and I'm still wandering in the maze.

God said "No." You all prayed with me; you know. We prayed hard and long. We asked with persistence and passion, but in the end, He still answered "No."
We can dodge the reality of unanswered prayer with lovely platitudes, but my reality of an empty home remains.
I highlight Rob's life verse in the pages of Bibles, hoping his students will hide it in their hearts. 
Would it not make more sense for them to carry his weekly lessons, the "so whats" in their lives? 
God answered, "No." 
I record memories for the babies.
Would it not be better for them to make memories with a living, breathing grandfather?
God answered, "No."
And I can't stop asking, "Why?" 
And I can't fill my empty heart!
None of it makes sense and I'm rubbing my soul raw trying to find answers.
When will I bury entitlement and just seek Him for all He is?
When will I place brokenness in his hands and let Him create in me something better?
When will I wage no more war and fill the empty places with Peace? 

I shouldn't have to put scissors to cotton...

Themed XL's should fill a duffle bag, ready for 

 camp adventure, not pieced together like my broken heart.

Parents shouldn't have to release balloons to the heavens along with their broken dreams. Baby flesh should fill their empty arms.

Salt of the earth shouldn't have to sift through the rubble after the storm.  Memories should hide in leather clad books and curio cabinets.

dreams to despair...hope to heartache

Oh where do we run when should turns to should not?

There is one King who weeps when we weep.
There is one Throne where we find rest.
There is one Voice that calls us home.

One
to whom we can raise our fist...spill our tears...ask our why's...
One
who promises to turn our 
despair to dreams...heartache to hope
One 
who supplies courage to make that first cut, let go of heartstrings, and retrieve treasures for our hearts
One
who creates new and whole out of shards
and leads the broken to praise Him in the storm


  

I wonder if I'll ever be able to watch Jeopardy again?  
Sunday night tradition at our house for decades... rapid, friendly fire of trivial knowledge..."You failed to put that in the form of a question, Robin." "Please let there be science, medical or literature categories so I can stay up with Rob?"
It's the same with Scrabble; Internet versions are just not the same as our Starbucks & Scrabble dates.  I long for those long pauses as he ponders all of his lexical options and my unsuccessful challenges. Of course, he was always on the money!
The collateral loss just mounts. Will I ever find happiness in any of these ordinary things again?

Plain white tees lay crumpled in the light blue laundry basket I once bought for his dad when cancer hid in his brain.  A couple pair of Hanes still rest between the folds.  I've passed by them for weeks, not having the courage to hide them from the folds of my broken heart. It took everything I could muster to wash away the familiar smells of almost four decades, so how can I bury the other senses as well?  I gather his soft bundle of cotton to my face, hiding my grief in it, if just for a little while.  As a young wife, I remember grumbling over the double portion of wash, especially the grass-stained softball uniforms and smelly jerseys.  Oh, how I would give for that prized chore once again.  Loss is a good teacher of what's sacred.

I let Rob's garments fall back into their now familiar home. Maybe I'll get to them another day... or maybe not.

Packing for one...deep sadness.
It's not like I've never traveled by myself before. I remember the time I went out early for Lindsay's wedding. I packed the ingredients for Laura Bush's cowboy cookies because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find them in San Diego. Really? I wore flour for days! I can navigate Reagan National and the D.C. Metro with my eyes closed.
 But it's different now. Rob's not going to meet me or be here when I get home; there will be no late night calls to recap the day; he will not rescue me when I mess up. 
I want to cancel and hide in the safety of my four walls. I won't, but...
I already hear "It'll be good for you." and "Rob would want you to." Perhaps...but this new anxiety swallows me...I didn't plan this!  Trips to see the grands were  going to be duets; I hate solo! 
Suitcase almost full...can't forget to pack trust and courage and peace for the journey.

Collateral loss

I unpack the losses. I discover grief magnified by the death of Rob, yet, I continue to see joy.
Staring at the assets and liabilities that refuse to budge, I concede that cheerful giving becomes...well, um...Complicated.  I can no longer give with abandon; I must now count the cost. I hate it!Two-thirds of the world needs one-third to give recklessly and suddenly I must hesitate. 
Joy comes from that?  Of course! My purse strings may have tightened, but time has become my friend; I have much to offer. My heart grows; I live the pain of those I will serve. I see giving in a much healthier way. Sure, money is useful for spreading Hope to a hurting world, but Jesus never once opened his wallet in the Red Letters. He opened himself. Thankfully, I can do both and the latter now has opportunity to flourish.
More painful loss...
Relationships...inevitable...death of a spouse is an uncomfortable place for most of us... it's perhaps, our greatest nightmare. Watching my eyes constantly fill with tears, hearing me mention our life in present tense, feeling my intense sadness proves too awkward, too exhausting and perhaps, even too dangerous for many of whom I've done life over the years.
But, there are always the "deeps"...the patient ones who don't run away; the courageous ones who hold on tight; they remain by my side and I am grateful. He even surprises and delights me with new friendships, ones that aren't wrapped up in memories.
And God reminds me; this really is our grief dance, just Him and me. Running to others seems easier, but, I know that only God can lead, can heal.
And then there is the greatest of collateral damage:
No full house. It's nothing new; It's just re-surfaced in greater proportion.  Rob and I knew long before his death that our family would not gather in our home as often as we would have hoped. Our children and their families are not close. Celebrations are now held with their other families and all our big plans for family cookouts and birthday parties in their childhood home never materialized.  That "Little House on the Prairie" family that we grew up with does not exist in the present. We built it, but they did not come.  Rob and I grieved together long enough; I must now accept it and begin to build a new normal.
This one stumps me; I can't fully name the joy in this loss, but I know it's here. God's presence fills my home and my heart and when I'm ready, new people will fill it as well. 
Joy in the losses.
This I know: I can travel lightly through them as long as I hand Him my grief. He will carry me. 
Yes, this I know

To My Valentine

My dearest Rob, 
Today my sweet husband, you stand in the presence of LOVE! It must be magnificent to be completely healed, forever at peace in the arms of Jesus. I can't wait to stand beside you and worship the One and Only together.
Valentine's Day without you, another first... I must be honest, it kind of stinks being left behind.  I miss that heart-shaped candy box with the plastic red rose and frilly white lace and I miss that ridiculously expensive Hallmark card signed "Love always, Rob."  But mostly I miss your touch, my head buried in your chest, that beautiful smile of yours.  We made a great pair, didn't we?  You always devoured all of the milk's while I savored the dark's, all the while aware you were leaving the best chocolates for me. But wasn't that just like you? On this day, I celebrate the selfless love you poured over me and our kids throughout your short life, knowing you never gave one thought to your own desires. 

Today I will visit your resting place; I'll lay a single rose and savor a love story beautifully lived. I'll smile from ear to ear as I grasp every one of those February memories and hide them deep within my heart. I'll offer up a quiet prayer for our children and their mates, asking that they be graced with even a portion of the love we shared. 

When I depart, I'll leave behind another piece of me, but in exchange, I'll carry you along in my brimming heart as I explore what lies ahead.
I love you, Rob, always and forever...

From your August 1, 2010 facebook... And I know I'll never lose affection for the people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them; in my life I loved you more.   Beatles 

When you've lost most everything

When Job looked around and saw his life in rubble, he worshiped. He grieved loudly, yet among his renting, he fell face down in the dirt that once formed man and Job chose to worship his Maker. 
Intense temptation to turn my grief inward and shut out the world this week... Who can afford to listen to a woman remember 43 years spent with her best friend or wipe away that many tears?  It's been nearly two months; get on with life!  And how does one do that when she left half of her life at the grave? All I know is the two shall become one and in one swift breath, the greater part of me stands in his Presence, not mine. 
Surely grief is a stranger to schedules and loss, no matter the source, knows no final end, only a resting place in the heart.  Yet, I still struggle with bleeding onto paper and into ears.  Appearing "on the mend" seems safer and I'm terrified that loved ones moving faster than me will leave me behind...or just leave me. 
But then he worshiped...
Keep drawing near; sit at the feet of Jesus where I can mourn out loud and praise, praise, praise the One who made Time and gives me all I need. 
Choosing joy might simply mean choosing worship.

Jesus, My Crossbeam

“You!” I tease, poke him in the shoulder, him broad like a beam that carries half my world." 
An innocent quote from my friend, Ann, but it pierces deep. She names my pain; Rob no longer carries half of my world. Financial decisions, daily musings, absence of children  no longer shared with my constant companion. "Broad like a beam..."  I could always count on Rob to support the roof that often came crashing down. All the daily pressures, scary unknowns, persistent hurts shared.  But memories of a competent, supportive husband do not pay bills or make investments. Nor do they wipe away tears or pick a wife off the floor. 
Then I'm flooded with Truth...Jesus... a Savior who once carried a beam to Golgotha, a Friend who promises to bear my crumbling world.  No sharing required. He is the Lifter of my head and heart, my Wisdom for all decisions.  Not half of my burden....All of it!
Sadly though, I waffle. Ready to exchange Jesus and his light load for another opportunity to lug the daily struggles with Rob. Perhaps leaning on a warm-blooded shoulder, hearing an audible voice and looking into the hazel eyes of a living, breathing husband is just easier than Faith in the One hoped for, yet unseen.
Oh Jesus, help me! Help me not to settle for safe and what was once so beautiful, but to embrace You, my future, my Crossbeam who holds the total weight of my heavy heart.

My friend Ann spills these life-giving words at just the right time.
"You can lose everything but nothing can steal Jesus and He is enough and you have got. to. live."