Rob loved candles!

Most every evening he'd fire up a couple while we watched sports.  I always thought it was a juxtaposition, which pretty much described my husband.  Each December, I would reach in my Christmas stocking to find a new fragrance; I remember chuckling at the tiny tin named Hippie Chick. And for the record, Rob never asked permission when lighting my Christmas gifts!

During this third year without him, I've been seeking ways to keep his memory alive in healthy ways.  Since I'm a bit further down this rocky path, I hope my ideas will encourage some of you walking in fresh grief and loss.  I must admit I am concerned that some of you might wonder if I'm stuck or even
"worshiping" my husband, but I know I need to commemorate, not forget...my way of continuing this healing.

   So I often light beautiful candles throughout the house. As I walk through a room, catching a whiff of sweet fragrance, I find myself smiling at this funny little thing that Rob found important and usually offer up a quick whisper of gratitude for my gift of life with this wonderful man. It just seems to soothe the loneliness of long nights and weekends...and I know he would be pleased.  Now it's even fun to surprise his female friends with one of his favorites, my way of keeping him alive in all of our hearts.

Last Christmas, I purchased Lake Candles Fairway Fir.  Fairway is a small neighborhood in Kansas City where we met in high school. Memories of Christmas lightings on the Plaza, drives down Ward Parkway, Sunday night worship dates at our nearby Nall Avenue Baptist Church flood my heart when I light this beautiful candle. Rob would have loved its smell of Christmas pine and more so, that his young entrepreneurial friend shared one of his simple joys.

I've learned to love Rob's candles almost as much as he did.

But even more, I cherish how God illumines my dark times. I'm reminded as I extinguish a flame, that it is only a temporary source of light.  We have an everlasting source who lights our paths...the God of hope!  One day there will be no darkness, no need for lamps or candles; the Lord God will be the only light we will need.

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?

All I ever had to do is mention an author or book I was interested in and not long after, it would be sitting at my bedside. And I often would eventually have a collection from that author.  (Tuesdays with Morrie is resting cozy somewhere in this house!)

Sometimes, words just reach out and grab your heart. 

“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it." 

Mitch Albom-the five people you meet in heaven

Hearts are hanging everywhere this week. Valentine love is in the air... tender thoughts of my man flood my heart.  My man who knew how to love hard and selflessly, a man starkly different than the men in a provocative "stuffed animal" commercial flooding the airwaves. You know, the one where the men are clearly seeking "something" in return for the enormous pile of fur.  Love does not seek its own interests, the Love Chapter reminds—my man to a tee.

My heart brims with gratitude this February week; I really did receive the deluxe "box of chocolates" the day I met Rob.  Rob treated women in a manner that mirrored Jesus. Never seeking anything for himself, he just regarded every female he encountered with great respect and kindness.  Rob cared deeply about each one of you women and I want you to know it!  I saw his love for you at the rear of a youth classroom and in the church halls where he asked about your week, your job, your family, always with genuine concern.  I saw it at camp when the emotional impact of the week brought you to tears. I saw it in the stories he told about his female co-workers; he held you in high esteem and worried about your families.  I adored seeing it in the way he treated his mother, his sisters, his daughters, his nieces, his granddaughters with sweet compassion and often, a sense of awe; Rob embraced you as his God-given gift and he wanted you to recognize your great worth to him and the world.

Most often I learned to see the way God cherished me through the eyes and actions of my dear Rob, a gift that remains with me as I venture through this new season without him by my side. He cared more that I was confident in God's love for me than his.   Love does not seek its own interests. 
I Corinthians:13 

  

Happy Birthday, One Year Old!

You are one of my deepest joys.

Oh, I love you to the moon and back.

45 years ago this evening, Rob and I had our very first date. After weeks of flirting, breaking into his locker to decorate it with signs and goodies before each basketball game, he finally asked me out.  So what do seventeen year old kids do on their first date when they have no money?  Attend one of their best friend's church basketball games, of course! Not the best way to steal a girl's heart, but I think he had captured mine weeks before as we spent hours together, typing yearbook copy on manual typewriters in a claustrophobic pie-shaped room.  I already knew there was something different about this very intelligent athlete. I wanted to learn more.
For me, the night was perfect.  We spent half-time walking hand in hand around the country school building on a cold Kansas night and barely made it back inside for the final buzzer. Our conversation came easy and I didn't want the night to ever end. 
45 years later, I wish it never had to end. I loved that seventeen year old boy with all my heart.  

Broken computer...broken phone...broken heart = blank blog.
While waiting for all three to heal, I have poured my thoughts into letters (yes, the old-fashioned on pretty stationery kind.) It's somewhat of lost art, isn't it?  I received heartfelt encouragement scrawled on lined paper in the darkness of early December and I was inspired to do the same throughout the holidays and now, into the new year.
So what's been stirring in my heart?
I finally spilled to a friend yesterday: I think I've lost my passion!
The three plus years before Rob's cancer, I poured myself into the fight against human trafficking. I researched, lobbied, and most importantly, prayed for those affected by this heinous evil.  I thought I would return to my work after Rob's death, but to this day, the passion is absent. Oh, I still pray and stay informed, but there is no fight in me.
Is it gone forever? Does He have for me a new battle to fight? I simply don't know.
I attended the memorial of a "Hebrews 11" lady yesterday.   Barbara did things in a grand way, but she also worked quietly to glorify her God. Very few of us knew that she fed spoonfuls of peanut butter to children living in an African slum in her early adult life. 
Pretty awesome stuff, don't you think?
So I ponder my own life; am I to live large?
Does God expect each Christ follower to pursue grand causes, grand passions or are some of us asked to find the grand in the mundane? Can passion lead some of us to show-off? Are we simply called to show-up? 
So I keep asking and wait for an answer; what does real passion for a Savior look like in my life.
What about yours?