Baby steps...
I have been wading in murky waters these past few weeks; seems like I make some healthy progress and then I take a tailspin.  
My precious friend, Marie, prays big prayers for me every Thursday. Today's prayers, focused on timidity and fear, got me thinking about facing some of those things I've been avoiding. 
There's a list; believe me! 
I've been driving by Los Tios, a local hangout of ours, nearly every day this summer. I've avoided eating there ever since Rob became sick. How can I ever enjoy fish tacos and pralines without Rob sitting across the table? How do I hold myself together when I see friends who also frequent our neighborhood restaurant?  
Well, tonight I decided to slay this first giant on my current list of "I'm never going back there again."  I made it half way through the meal; "Please, sir, may I have a carryout box to hold my heartache?" 
Baby steps...
Too many couples our age...no tears, just deep sadness.
Fear #2...our community pool.   
Our family spent many summer evenings at our neighborhood pool while the kids were growing up and then, Rob and I kept up our routine as empty nesters.
Rob would jog up to the pool while I drove. In recent years, I worried when it took him longer than usual. Funny how I always feared a heart attack, never cancer. We would swim our laps, then sink neck deep into the tepid waters, shoulders always touching, and mull over our day as the sun slipped away.
I had not been up there either since Rob's diagnosis. Again, what if it is just too much; what could this place of only sweet memories hold for me now?
Well, I did it! I held back tears while watching a young man swim the laps I wished my own husband was completing and God, my rescuer, provided the perfect distraction: a darling four year old named Andrew. He stuck like glue to me, telling me all about his super heroes and swimming skills. Little did he know he was my super hero this tough evening. 
More baby steps...
I am learning that I don't need to hold on to all the things Rob and I enjoyed as a couple. Some need to be shelved with the memories, but I won't know what to keep and what to replace unless I trust God and face these fears. 
Keep stepping...keep trusting...

For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7.  NLT

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.

Today, I sold stock.  Did I just say that?
I still shake my head in disbelief that I'm even considering investment strategies and financial goals...not the skill set I thought I would be honing.  
 I knew it made sense to let go of some shares in order to take advantage of better income opportunities, but giving the green light made me sick. Not from fear or ignorance...purely from raw emotion; Rob and I invested our meek savings in this start-up Seattle company early in our marriage and selling even a fraction felt like letting go of a part of him. 
I don't surrender well. Like last fall when he was so ill...I remember that sinking feeling of knowing I could no longer hold on to him; I had to release him to God.  Yet, I thought I might just drown in all that surrender!

Stocks aren't the only things needing some paring, so does Rob's closet full of clothes.  My brain knows his wardrobe would serve other men well, but is my heart ready? I wonder if, like fall pruning, timing is critical in order to produce more health than harm. If I let go of them too early, will I regret that I can't take back that part of him? Maybe, I need to protect myself from any unnecessary exposure, any more damage. Will I ever be ready?


Culling is such a difficult part of grief work, but at some point, I must put aside a few cherished items that will preserve memories, but make room for new ones.
As I face the painful task of pruning the past, I'm reminded that "Christ is faithful as son over God's house. And we are his house, if we hold on to our courage and the hope of which we boast." Hebrews 3:6 NIV 1978 
Praying that I will hold on tightly to courage and hope, the things of faith.

I've been strong all week as I've prepared for camp. I even told the youth staff that I was excited to serve once again. But tonight, after a very difficult day, I'm making circles around a deep pit.  Where did all my bravery go?  I was so willing to carry Rob to camp, but why can't I trust God to carry me?
Maybe I'm just dealing with more recognized loss. Both Rob and I loved leading and camp was no exception. We would laugh at how our personalities and strengths blended so perfectly that we ran like a well-oiled machine. We loved watching our students see marriage at its best. 
The memories of last year have jolted me. I just don't know if I can relive the memories of how sick he was during last year's camp. Will more grief pour as I step off the bus?  Will everything remind me of my Rob?  Can I really do this solo after over a decade of being a team?  More questions.. fewer answers. 
All I know is tonight I'm terrified and I'm hanging on for dear life.  

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


  

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.

Last night, I dreamed about Rob for the first time since his death. I couldn't reach him; not too hard to interpret that one.
 Tears flowed all day...I suspect that is good grief.
 Fear continues to grip me.  Fear not, fear not, fear not beating hard in my chest...hiding those scriptures deep down.
I've heard that the greatest fear of widowhood is the fear of living. Sounds crazy, but I'm fighting it hard. It's really the fear of life's unknowns, all the "ifs" I certainly did not elect. 
"Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the LORD your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you."
So I'm wondering, God...do your Words really boil down to blind trust? Is it okay for me to shake a little as long as I place that first step in line with You? Is this courage you require really the act of ceding a very human emotion into your "more than able" Hands?