June’s almost over and I’ve glanced at this encouragement  in my hallway way too many times this month. And buried my head in the Truth pages, repeatedly  reminding myself I’m not alone; He lifts my head, my wings. 
But LORD, this is hard stuff to navigate. I’ve searched healthcare plans, home improvements, technology, finances. Sometimes, I just want to hand it off, glance over for a reassuring nod, make a decision together. I want another breathing human being to read the instructions alongside me or simply huff in unison when there are no clearcut steps. Learning curves bend easier when traveling in pairs. 
Yet, lessons have been learned: it’s okay for me to say no to more responsibility because solo decision-making takes energy and time, I don’t need to beat myself for not helping others every time I see a need (survival is my full-time mission) and sometimes, I just have to climb out on the shaky, scary limb. I think that’s called, Trust. 

Thin Places

I love the smell of freshly cut wood, I love the smell of progress! Demo is complete, doors are hung, and cabinet framing has begun. The kitchen plans are clean and simple, much like the desire for my new chapter.
I stepped into one of those thin places yesterday.
Standing alone in a bare, dusty shell of my former den, I found it hard to distinguish heaven from earth for a few beautiful moments. God was so present and I was so grateful. I wasn't concerned with keeping up with the neighbors, I was simply basking in the goodness of a caring Father.  Grateful that He carries me...goes before me...protects me in the details. Free from the demon of comparison...just a delighted child showered with exactly what she needs.
For the past few weeks I've found myself grieving the rustic Hill Country home that we'll never own during our retirement years.  Yesterday, I realized this restored home is his better plan. 
Complete joy and peace in the places we meet and trust God.

Post op day five

This fairly routine surgery has unleashed something terribly unsettling inside me:

raging 

fear and anxiety!

I've bravely walked through many past surgeries, some quite complicated and risky, but this one is teaching me what I hate most about myself:

raging

fear and anxiety!

Every sensation paralyzes me; there is no peace. 

Am I scared of losing my sight or am I really scared of losing my way?

I miss Rob and his unwavering support.

He would know just how to calm the "medical ocd" that runs through my brain, he'd gently rinse the shampoo so I could protect my eye, he'd walk through surgery #2, the one I dread now.

Bottom line...I grieve, I grieve deep, knowing there will most likely never be family at my side as I grow old and collect more health issues.

Why can't I trust God alone?

Where is my faith?

Look at the friends who patiently travel with me! Is that not enough proof of His provision?

Why can't I let go of

raging 

fear and anxiety?

I chuckle when I think of Rob and me dancing. His moves were meant for the basketball court and my grand jetés and arabesques reserved for  a different set of  wooden planks.  Our pas de deux was at best a sweet, slow sway with a few bruised toes. Yet, I would give anything to follow his lead just one more time, feel the warmth of his chest and the beat of his tender heart. But through these tough, lonely days, I'm trusting my Creator's lead.  I've listened over and over (and swayed a little) to this beautiful song sung by Steffany Gretzinger of Bethel Music and am grateful that He is my eternal dance partner.  One petit jeté at a time. 

 

Remember these? I don't even know if they make sliding puzzles anymore, but my budget feels a lot like one of them.
I'm still in the process of making sound investment decisions to cover my needs for decades to come.  Rob taught me well: live frugally, give generously and save for the future and we did this effortlessly with a nice salary.
But death of the primary bread winner extracts the easy from all of this and who ever said living by faith would be without effort? 
Life insurance proceeds must be balanced with burial costs and Cobra plans with investment strategies. It has to last!
Don't get me wrong; Rob left me blessed with enough to cover all of my bills and most likely, much more. 
But I'm learning how to move this financial puzzle into the right order  and I'm still not sure which tile to move next. (Yes, I have a wonderful adviser, but fear often trumps wisdom.)
Bottom line...My lifestyle has changed and I find myself fighting shrinking trust and ugly pride.
Oh, I've been comfortably paring down to a simpler lifestyle; actually it doesn't look much different than before Rob's illness. And what if the necessity to do so is totally unnecessary, but still good for the soul?
But giving has taken a big hit! 
I love feeding orphans, drilling wells, commemorating special events with a lot of love tied with pretty bows. 
I'm blessed to have a lot of friends and my love language is...you, guessed it... gift-giving! 
I've had to skip a lot of opportunities to repay great kindness shown to Rob and me. That grieves me! Being raised with the notion that an invitation always warrants a carefully chosen present, I worry what my friends will think when they open up just a card or a token gift. Will people be insulted or worse, pity me? Will they think Rob didn't provide well enough? Will they still want to be my friend?
I'm flat embarrassed, proof that pride keeps rearing it's ugly head! 
I hate me for being more worried about my image than I am grateful for the blessing of friendship. I'm not even sure if I love giving for the right reasons!
I confess; I have struggled with skipping groceries and medications so I could purchase a nicer wedding gift or a fancier lunch. 
Total insanity, but I wonder if I'm the only one who plays this game?
However, human need is no game! A starving child needing a meal, a pregnant woman sickened by dirty water... no time for inaction, so I question my level of faith when I don't dive into my savings account to heal a little more of the planet and a little less of me. 
How do I balance first and third world issues on a fixed income?  
Seems like death uncovers a host of flaws and conflicts...only resolved by coming clean before a Holy God. 

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.

Another financial meeting this morning... My son has to take more time off to accompany me. 
Oh God, I feel like a huge liability! Why can't I get these things on my own? It would have been easier on the kids if I had gone home first. 

All I know to do is to trust the Psalmist' words and cast my burden on my Father. I love how Matthew Henry explains Psalm 55:22: "To cast our burden upon God, is to rest upon his providence and promise. And if we do so, he will carry us in the arms of his power, as a nurse carries a child, and will strengthen our spirits by his Spirit, so they can sustain the trial."   LORD, You carry my heavy load a lot better than I or my children can and to You, I'm never a liability. You promise to carry me through this meeting, sustain me and be my Wisdom! I'm resting on that today. 

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?

I believe...I believe...I believe...Oh, help me with this disbelief! The fighting within...I know my God is able, but logic vies for my heart's attention. There is no resting in this march called Trust.