They say true joy can never be broken;

Why does mine lay in rubble at the bottom of my heart?

Or are these shards just memories of life cut short 

Or simply the pieces of my own shattered heart?

They say true joy can never be broken, 

But has their joy ever been tested by the spoils of life?

Have they covered their beloved for the very last time, Held their fractured children

Or no child at all?

Has experience yet come to be their teacher?

Perhaps, true joy can never really be broken,

But on days like this, it’s hard to hold 

All those pieces at the bottom of my heart. 

Written for a friend and his beloved on their first anniversary apart...

Five years later

This December has been different; my grief is softening.  Five years have passed since ugly cancer changed everything. The chaos of the last 15 months is settling and I love being back in my own home that’s decorated with two trees and a lot of red! Last night,  I walked into a party and for the first time didn’t feel awkward; I was comfortable being plain old solo me, surrounded by a lot of friends.  And boy did I have fun!
But let me be honest, every December is rough. There’s the day Rob died, the day he was buried, his birthday and then Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Every December day, I have to choose to get up and get through it.  For five years I’ve asked God to use me and for most of that time I’ve waited. Much of that time I’ve wondered if I make most folks uncomfortable; am I a big, glaring reminder of their biggest fear?  Where in the world do I belong?  Will I ever feel normal? But He’s beginning to reveal His plan for my next chapter; I’m being used.
Recently I’ve embraced a new joy, the acceptance that my Rob is more alive than ever before. I had head knowledge of this truth, but it wasn’t buried in my heart until now.  It’s bringing great peace.  I’ve also accepted aloneness as a beautiful gift; I’ve drawn closer to my Heavenly Father than ever before.
So to my dear friends who are numb, hurting, lonely this December, I so get it! I’ve lived it! May I encourage you to watch the joy that spills from me this season for it’s a reminder that yours will come... And when it does, the music will be sweeter, the friendships warmer and the Light much brighter.  Keep taking baby steps. Let those a bit further down the road into your pain. Know that you’re stronger than you think; God is carrying you.  Joy is coming!

Our old piano bench sits waiting for the Christmas tree to takes its place. It soon will be off to the upholsterer for a new plump cushion in an updated color. 
On this dreary Halloween, though, I linger a while at it, running my hand over the worn spots where we sat for hours. Sometimes, just Rob, practicing Chopin or enjoying contemporary favorites, other times with a child in his lap and another by his side, banging out Beauty and the Beast along with some great impersonations of Gaston!
This morning I had the strangest longing to slip in next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and listen to him play “O (Fly On).”  Rob would have channeled his best Chris Martin and I would have tried to join in harmony. 
Rob did not make it long enough to hear Coldplay’s haunted “Ghost Stories,” but I know he would have immediately sat down to play this song after hearing it for the very first time...by ear, of course...
And I would have fallen in love with him all over again!
Yes, Rob, maybe one day I’ll fly next to you. 

Fly on. 

A flurry of furniture deliveries monopolized this week. With each new arrival, the house begins to look more like a comfortable home. My etagere for the den, the final big purchase, arrived yesterday afternoon. I am ecstatic! It's a really cool piece made of rosewood and rebar in Indonesia. The perfect home for my pottery collection.
I really love how the house is shaping up, a totally new look and feel to it.  Of course, I still need art on the walls, rugs on the floors and drapes covering the windows, but it's feeling like home...my home.
Even with all of the excitement, I've battled some guilt. Rob was never able to experience the remodel that we planned. He just worked, putting money away for the new purchases. Even that effort was barely realized as insurance has funded most of it. 
But this I know, Rob has no desire to return to his former home, to be here on Earth...in this house...with me. Scripture makes me believe he longs for his family to join him, but he has no desire for his old life. Sometimes, that stings, but then I rest on where he dwells: Paradise.  No, I do not believe he floats on clouds or plays a harp (maybe a mean piano.) Heaven is a real place with real things to do, an exciting home that defies our wildest imagination. Who in his right mind would exchange paradise for man-made digs? 
This truth triumphs over my temporary guilt and puts all this accumulation of stuff in proper perspective.   
For me, home is where Jesus and his joy resides. Remember, it was not long ago that I found joy and thanksgiving living in the Tuckers' spare bedroom and then, above a kind neighbor's garage.  It's not where, it's with whom! So, I'm reminded not to get too cozy here either; there's a better place waiting for me.

For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.           Hebrews 13:14 NLT

 Friends, this world is not your home, so don’t make yourselves cozy in it.  1 Peter 2:11 MSG

Relapse

CS Lewis

Out of the wound we pluck

The shrapnel. Thorns we squeeze

Out of the hand. Even poison forth we suck,

And after pain have ease.

But images that grow

Within the soul have life

Like cancer and, often cut, live on below

The deepest of the knife,

Waiting their time to shoot

At some defenceless hour

Their poison, unimpaired, at the heart’s root,

And, like a golden shower,

Unanswerably sweet,

Bright with returning guilt,

Fatally in a moment’s time defeat

Our brazen towers long-built;

And all our former pain

And all our surgeon’s care

Is lost, and all the unbearable (in vain

Borne once) is still to bear.

Because of Harvey...many of us are still plucking out shrapnel.  The sting of reliving the waters rise, the escape, the barricade of debris, and the unforgettable stench of sewage-filled water on this first anniversary of the storm remains.

Wounds are ripped wide open with one look at our bank accounts and the moments we remember, "Oh, I don't have that anymore."

Trauma 

Remembers

Flashbacks

A cry of something that needs to come out and does

so in the only way it knows how.

Triggers

Anything can nudge an emotion and bring it to the surface.

Numbness

Pushing the monster far down until it eventually raises its ugly head

But Harvey doesn't have the last word...We do! Today we remember but eventually we too will rise from the devastation. 

It will take time and guts, but through conversation, writing, bringing it before our God in an honest way, we can find a greater appreciation for life, new purpose, values and strength and a deeper faith.* We don't have to remain a flood victim.

Because of Harvey...We are survivors and we remember that the LORD, our God brought us out of there by a mighty hand and by an outstretched arm. Deut. 5:15

*Thanks  to H. Norman Wright, an amazing grief and trauma counselor and author, for his sensitivity on trauma. His thoughts are stuck in my mind, so I'm sure much of this would be found in his extensive writings. I must give him credit.

My six prayer journals have grown to eight! I have two "adopted" grand boys that discovered my new colorful books and I asked if they would like me to fill ones with prayers for them. Big smiles and nods...
In my last post, I mentioned a pastor friend referring to loneliness as a gift. One week before Rob's cancer diagnosis, we attended our church's annual youth camp as sponsors. We always looked forward to Scot Pollok's messages. I don't think the video of that Wednesday night's sermon made it online, but it's embedded in my memory.  On that hot summer night, I clearly knew Scot's [God's] powerful message was directed at me. That's only happened a few times in my life and it would be affirmed in the hard days ahead. 
As I was unpacking storm boxes yesterday, a folded note with one of the quotes from that sermon, slipped out of a rescued book. No accident, I believe!

Loneliness is a gift because it gives you a chance to become very intimate with God.

When is the last time I embraced loneliness as an invitation for intimacy with my LORD?   Instead of struggling with my present loneliness, I wish to  cherish this uninterrupted time with Him. 

Lingering with God always spills over to others; like a seed germinating in the dark soil, intimacy with the Master eventually produces. 

My prayer: God grow something useful from the hours alone with You. May I become crazy jealous for our time together...

Loneliness...it is an insidious creature.

I'm not sure which has been the most debilitating, anxiety or loneliness. Moving back into the house has increased both; the battle continues.

A preacher friend once said, "Loneliness is a gift." 

I'm determined to discover the Gift Giver no matter how painful the journey.

Like many of my hard seasons, I'm risking exposure in this search; many walk the same path and together we might find goodness and treasure.

What if we trade loneliness for aloneness with the One and Only? 

I've been asking for a word of guidance, wisdom.

Not an antidote for loneliness, but a hope that my pastor friend is right...

Several days in, I already see opportunity in the lonely hours...PRAYER.

My pastor is preaching his heart out about intimacy with God through prayer. I'm joining him in this discipline.

I've started with six prayer journals, one for each grandchild. In those quiet hours, I'm devoting myself to praying for each one of my precious charges, building a spiritual trust fund for this future generation.

I'm confident the gifts will continue.