I must be progressing. Oh, I still wiped away a few tears, but I bet a few of you did too if you watched last night's Super Bowl LI. Watching President Bush and Barbara wheeled out on the field for the coin toss, an aging quarterback's eyes glisten with victory, and young, hard-working athletes lined up to kiss their Lombardi Trophy...well, I admit, it made me misty-eyed. 
But this year I didn't cry my eyes out because of my broken heart. Oh sure, I missed watching the game with Rob, but I actually enjoyed it alone this year. Alone is not always lonely...as it has been in the recent past. 
Lady Gaga! I'm not a big fan and could not even name one of her songs, but I know enough about her career to recognize the evolution. I thoroughly enjoyed her half-time performance; she showed the world a newfound maturity with her toned-down image, yet, she hasn't lost an ounce of her creative expression. I believed her when she reminded us, pointing to the heavens,  that we are "one nation under God." The girl's got some moxie, for sure...lots of courage! It got me to thinking; do we need courage to change or does courage come from the change? 
Three years ago, I skipped the Super Bowl all together. Too painful without Rob at my side, but the next two years, I eased back into it as well as the other things that made us happy as a couple. Yes, it took some "moxie" and seemed unlikely to ever bring back joy, but I set my mind on recapturing the good parts of our life, albeit solo.
Last night wasn't a party, but an evening filled with contentment. I loved the patriotism, the spirit of family and my hometown, catching myself smiling a lot!  I munched on delicious homemade nacho dip and chips, occasionally chatted online with family and cheered like crazy for the best comeback in Super Bowl history. 
You know, I think I'm making a comeback as well...

I care deeply about current politics, but I love my country and its people far too much to enter into futile dialogue any longer. I've tried to have thoughtful conversations about policy, listening to the concerns of both sides of our divided country. I've attempted to be the voice of reason, but to no avail. Too many people, even those close to me, refuse to listen to any argument that differs from theirs. And no one, on either side, likes to be "preached at."  Social media is no longer my friend; I don't want to sit on the sidelines and watch good people war with their words or the opinions of talking heads. It grieves me to see God cheapened by our sarcasm and hate talk.  I even find myself dreading family and church gatherings; the tension is just too great!
 I personally believe that most of us just don't have a handle on all of the facts. Each issue is complicated and cannot be solved with a knee-jerk solution or a hard ideology. True wisdom understands this; true wisdom humbles our response.
Have I given up? Will I crawl under the covers for the next four years?  Of course, not! I just will not publicly discuss politics any longer! Instead...

I will offer kindness and prayer.

I suppose to many I sound like Pollyanna, but I'm actually more concerned with God's opinion of me. 

This morning I spent time digesting a passage from Proverbs 16.

 The wise are known for their understanding, and pleasant words are persuasive.

 Discretion is a life-giving fountain to those who possess it, but discipline is wasted on fools. 

 From a wise mind comes wise speech; the words of the wise are persuasive. 

 Kind words are like honey— sweet to the soul and healthy for the body. 

 There is a path before each person that seems right, but it ends in death. 

 It is good for workers to have an appetite; an empty stomach drives them on. 

 Scoundrels create trouble; their words are a destructive blaze. 

 A troublemaker plants seeds of strife; gossip separates the best of friends. 

 Violent people mislead their companions, leading them down a harmful path. 

 With narrowed eyes, people plot evil; with a smirk, they plan their mischief. 

 Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life. 

Better to be patient than powerful; better to have self-control than to conquer a city.

 We may throw the dice, but the LORD determines how they fall. 21-33 NLT

Look at how many times our speech is addressed and look at the last verse; the LORD is still in control! I don't believe that scripture discourages our freedom of speech, but instead, reminds us that we should recognize the responsibility that comes with freedom. So...

I will speak kind words.

If they are not life-giving and healthy to the body of humanity, I'll remain silent and... 

Pray

During the last administration, I studied Paul's letters to young Timothy. I was not in the practice of daily praying for our leaders, but the first three verses in 1Timothy 2 completely changed that.

I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, NIV

It's pretty simple; if it pleases God, just do it! It's pretty hard to hate someone for whom you pray each day. Prayer changes our hearts, even for our enemies. And most importantly, I believe prayer changes even the direst of situations.

I know this isn't articulate or earth-shaking, but something I needed to write down as a contract with myself. Replace politics with kindness and prayer.  That's all, folks...

Sometimes, I find myself in this strange limbo.
My last post reflects this state of uncertainty. I received a startling text on New Year's Day, my financial advisor was moving on and I had a hard decision to make: move with him or chart a new course. That would mean uncomfortable interviews with people much smarter than me and getting a handle on my portfolio so I could determine the best strategy. I hate numbers, I hate anything business-related, and sometimes I plain hate change! But as my good friend, Alice, says: Sometimes we need to be the only adult in the room.
Let's face it; it's less scary looking back and camping in the past, but it's not very healthy when one is flying solo.
I received this encouragement this morning from www.anewseason.net. I hope it's helpful for anyone facing an about-face change.

Erica Kosal, PhD is an author, biology professor and mom to two young children. Erica lost her husband in June of 2014 after six years of fighting neurological chronic Lyme disease with overlapping ALS symptoms.  Erica has written two books that highlight her relationship with Christ and the power of the inner human spirit.  By writing, Erica has found comfort.  By spending time in nature, Erica has found strength.  And by spending time with her children, Erica has found love.  

---

But Lot’s wife looked back

as she was following behind him,

and she turned into a pillar of salt.  

Genesis 19:26 NLT

I’m living, but my past is dead.  My spouse Jim died two and a half years ago and, of course, nothing is the same.  I look back and remember him, aching for his presence, but at the same time, I know I need to look forward and to the future, moving in the right direction for my children.  

This is a tricky combination.  I know I cannot sit in the past and become stuck in the sadness of Jim’s no longer being here, but I also want to honor him, keep him in our conversations, and include Jim in our lives as much as possible.  

As I reflect on this dichotomy my mind returns over and over to Lot’s wife.  Living in Sodom, Lot and his family lived among some very bad people and finally God had enough.  Angels warned Lot to take his wife and two daughters and flee the land without looking back as Sodom and Gomorrah were to be destroyed.  As the family ran, only Lot’s wife looked back, and she turned into a pillar of salt.  

Obeying God is important as the story told in Genesis reminds us, but I also think that this is an illustration of what can happen if we concentrate too much on the past.  What consequences might come our way if we do not trust God to take us out of harm’s way and give us a future.  If we try to return to our past, when we know we cannot, we can destroy ourselves.  Longing for the past, looking behind, rather than trusting to move forward, can cause us to become frozen and paralyzed.  Sometimes when I feel like I cannot move forward because it is too overwhelming, I draw to this story.  I have to move forward and obey God who is telling me to raise my kids to know Him, to trust Him that my future will be safe, and that a home will be present.  God placed me and my two children in this position, and I have to trust that someday it will be clear why the events of my life unfolded as they did.  In the meantime, I run to the hills with my family in tow and know that if I look back without trust of moving forward, I too can be consumed with grief without finding value in my current life.  I do need to remember Jim and honor him, but I cannot stay stuck in my old life.  My new life calls.

God, I pray that all women who are feeling stuck and find themselves returning to memories of their old life without being able to move forward can be shown Your love in a way around them that reminds them to trust You and to move forward in faith.  I pray that we can honor our late husbands and always cherish the memories we have without becoming consumed by wanting our old lives too much.  Help us move forward and see our futures as ones with meaning and hope.  In Jesus’ name I pray.  Amen.  

 So there you have it. I'm still trying to figure out how to honor and remember Rob and the beautiful life we shared, but move through my new life with bold trust.  With the help of my great God, I've hired a new advisor, gained a new understanding of my portfolio and climbed another emotional mountain, all in a matter of days. Just as the market resets, so will I. I'll glance back, realize I can't stay there, and march forward. 

I need my kids' help. 
I need my husband's wisdom. 
I need increased faith. 
I need Jesus more. 

Juxtaposition...
Small pile of Christmas cards neatly stacked for the postman... table cluttered with the remaining. Trees decorated in winter bliss while my kitchen looks like it's been hit by a spring tornado. Christmas gift list tackled while the Gospel of Luke remains unruffled.
Chaos...
This year's Christmas looks nothing like the previous. Knowing that I would be celebrating solo, I focused on nothing but Jesus, but this year, filled with family and friends, I've slipped back into the temptation of should.  I should send a Hallmark to everyone, I should have wrapped the very last present weeks ago with Pinterest execution, my house and front yard should invite friend and stranger alike with twinkling lights and wafts of cookies baking in both ovens. 
Failure...
The joy I felt last year is replaced with tension and guilt, emptiness and longing. 
I've failed; I can't serve two masters: the Christmas of expectation and the Christmas found in a feeding trough.
I hope I've learned my lesson, even if only a few advent days remain.
I'm packing up should, unwrapping linger.
Linger...
Sit a long spell with Jesus who shines throughout the Holy Scripture, write that long letter to my late husband's frail aunt, pray for the friend who can't call her Christmas merry, share the story of great rescue with a lost soul.
Linger with one Master.

It just so happens, I write this reminder to myself on the winter solstice, the very day of the year with the fewest hours of sunlight. Light increases with each day forward. That's my desire for the rest of the season.
May the Son increase.

 “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 ESV

On the eve of Rob's third year in Heaven, I've been thinking about how much he loved Christmas music. How fitting that tomorrow my church will be filled with carols from young and old. Rob accompanied the littlest voices to some of the finest soloists I know. Our home was filled with the wonderful sound of his piano throughout December and he made sure the students took time to carol for nursing home residents and staff. He'd drag an old piano or keyboard to each wing to make sure the kids were accompanied. I was in charge of making sure he remembered his readers, but really, he knew them all by heart. I don't know if he is playing an instrument (I hope so!) but I know he's singing with the choirs of angels, singing in exultation! Make a joyful noise, my love.

Music wove through our relationship like a golden thread. 
Like many couples we had our special song while dating: Rob, the musician, deemed it Chicago Transit Authority's Beginnings. To this day, I can't help but smile when I hear the brass chime in.
We'd spend hours in my parents' basement, listening to Rob's Columbia Record collection; we almost wore out the grooves of Deja vu and Abbey Road. My mom would finally yell down, "It's a school night!" and Rob would pack up his vinyls...and my heart.
We were married in 1976 when contemporary Christian music was still obscure, so we had to search for a current song that complimented the likes of Trumpet Voluntary. That was no easy task for two 21 year old's with unsophisticated taste, but we were pleased with Cousin Kathy's rendition of Here, There and Everywhere. Would I ever guess the line, "watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there," would send chills through me today?  

As poor newlyweds, our date nights usually found us in the aisles of Sound Warehouse on Westheimer and Voss. Rob studied the back of record jackets for hours, polishing his trivia skills, while I grooved, much to his embarrassment, to whatever was playing in the background. Then, we'd cap the night with a midnight run to House of Pies, where he'd try to dazzle me with his new repertoire of bass players and backup vocalists.
We were always late owls. Some nights we lay in bed until wee hours, playing our own form of Musical Jeopardy or Name that Tune, all the while laughing and robbing each other of much needed sleep.  "Just one more song," he'd say and I would give in.
In the later years of our marriage and with the onset of texting, we found ourselves a new love language. Rob would frequently send lyrics to express his affection or communicate whatever was on his mind. I soon began to deliver back my own, although, they were never as deep as his or as plenty.
 I might have texted the following much too many times.
They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you I promise you, I will.
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend...
(They did score me birthday tickets to the songwriter's concert, though... Mraz on a hot August night.)
Yes, sweet texts bridged the many miles when he was working far away and we sorely missed each other. Sometimes, they spoke deeper than the nightly phone call.
 There are still things we shared that I can't enjoy ...some restaurants and other places are taboo to date, but music keeps Rob's memory and our love alive. There are few Saturday nights that I don't turn on Austin City Limits or pull out an old vinyl, but I also try to broaden my playlist with new artists because...well, that's what's Rob would be doing.
Grief is a very individual thing; each of us must find a cord that keeps us connected to our loved one. For some it's travel or sports or a particular hobby; for me, it's music.

Today, I miss Rob insanely! I'd give anything to shoot him lyrics and wait for him to respond with the correct group or the next line.

To Rob from Robin

"We sat on a roof, named every star, shared every bruise and showed every scar. Hope has its proof, your hand in mine. Life has a beautiful, crazy design. Can there be breaks in the chaos sometimes? Oh, God must have heard when I prayed cause now I always want to feel this way."