The last few weeks have been a whirlwind…. last week I was in Wisconsin and had a wonderful time teaching at the College of Prayer there. It was a powerful time. Met a dear sister whose husband had only passed away last May. Still fresh…When you meet someone like that, there is a “knowing.” I think especially when it is still so fresh… only five months for me. But there is a “knowing” that others can not grasp unless they have walked in this land. The week was good – and busy. I came back to business and the reality that I have a meeting with my tax man next Monday night. Well, that presented a problem. At the very time that Marilou fell sick, my computers hard drive died as well. Interesting, eh?
 But that meant that I lost some data, and… I am W-A-Y behind in trying to get all that data put back into the Quicken files. So I have been trying, between phone calls, and other obligations to get caught up.

So that lead me to a very unexpected “First” tonight. I was going through the checks, inputting them into Quicken…pretty boring and routine… had some music on in the background… just routine… right?
Until I began to input checks for the down payment on the house… for the inspection on the house… the last check I wrote for our old apartment….suddenly a flood of memories and emotions again came rising to the surface… remembering how happy we were… remembering the look on her face when we signed the papers at closing…writing the check for the curtains… for the small rugs for the living room. Memories, Taxes, and Tears. They all came flooding in, and I realized … I was at another one of those signposts along the way in this Land of Firsts.

A welcome chat from a friend in Brazil broke the flood for a while. I explained what I was experiencing. They had wonderful words about God’s faithfulness. I saw it as a divine interruption, but still… Here I am again…tears streaming down my face, snot running down my lip, and it’s like the grief is just as real now, as it was that first day.  You know, it’s supposed to get better, or so they say. But you hit one of these “signposts” and it’s like that underground river comes roaring back to life. So… my release is here… writing it out…release..my relief valve.  Gosh I miss her!

I met with one of the pastors this morning. The church where we had her memorial. The last church Marilou ever attended on this earth. He is so kind. He met with me before I went to Wisconsin, and said he thought I needed a family here. And they wanted to be that family. I do, I need a family… Not to replace Esther and Tony and Jonathan and Carol, but some folks who will be around here. I was thinking as I came back from my meeting with him how good it would be if I had someone I could just talk to here.
But I find it difficult, because by the time you call, or find someone home, that wave of emotion has crested, and you’re in the lull between waves. So you just kind of ride each wave as it comes until they subside again, and retreat back to that underground river.

 It’s not all been so bad. I’ve had some really good days. And things are changing I think. I still feel the void of her absence, but I truly want to venture out in this new season of my life. I was told Monday by a dear friend I need to “follow my heart.”  I want to, I just have to figure out what that really is. How does this new house play into that? Where does my income come from? So much is still unknown, unsettled. It’s not like my wife died and I go back to my job and plug away. About the same time, my job has sort of disappeared, my income has disappeared, and EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING in my life is floating in suspended animation. Waiting for what? I’m not sure.

Well, I’ve got to work on these taxes. I’m right at September…and I have to push through to the end of the year. So I’ll slug away here with my Memories, Taxes and Tears…

… till next time…

Forward to a friend

It was a gosh-awful start to the day… sitting in my office hearing the sound of water dripping from the ceiling on the the floor in the bathroom/ laundry room that is next to my office. Somewhere in the unseen spaces of the bathroom upstairs… water was leaking. And it was not going to be one of those “easy fixes.” That became evident.

Another first… it’s one thing to barely squeak by under “normal” circumstances. But with no income from the ministry, and the familiar looming of depletion of bank accounts, something like this can seem like a stab in the heart. Maybe it was because of what I had been reading this morning. I am slowly and devotionally reading my way through the Psalms. Today it was Psalm 94. And especially one verse near the end caught my attention. 94:19  “…in the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul.” It was a challenge when I first read it. Now it was becoming life.

Inquiries about somepne that might be able to help led to dead ends. I tried the usual obvious types of inquiries, and it seemed that this one was going to take a lot more work. Probably tearing up the ceiling below to expose that stupid leak. It became a day filled with futility. Nothing really seemed to turn out well. Yes, Father reminded me that we are on an adventure… I’ve been trying to climb out of the sidecar, and I had forgotten that He was still driving. I chuckled when He first reminded me, but that didn’t seem to erase the dark cloud that had settled in my thoughts.

The afternoon was turning into a pit of anxieties. It’s one thing to try to carry on and make it day by day in this land when everything is just going ok, but this was one more plate to try to keep spinning. It was one more heavy weight to carry when I was already on very, very thin ice. No income, a week of reminders of how alone I am. It all began to fall in around me. I honestly thought for the first time in all of this, that I just didn’t want to go any farther. It is too much trouble. It’s too hard. I don’t even know if it’s really worth it all.  The emptiness, the extra load… I could hear the ice cracking under my feet. I could see the plates falling toward the floor. And then… two things happened at almost the very same time.

First thing was, I got a text from a friend in Indonesia on Yahoo! Messenger.While chatting, I went and brought in the mail.
My friend from Indonesia was an easy and sympathetic victim of my depressive thoughts. Caring and willing to “listen” (that takes on a different meaning now with all the digital conversations we have going on). That is until she asked me a simple question about English grammar, and a phrase she had planned on using for a new outreach campaign. It was not proper English at all, and the phrase was already approved and “going to press.” Embarrassment and panic filled her texts now… what could she do? What would be proper? I gave her a couple of suggestions, and the new campaign slogan was born and an emergency meeting was called.  It was maybe like when Peter was sinking down into the water after a few successful steps, and there, an arm outstretched to put him back into the boat.

At the same time, I was piling  up the mail on my desk. a couple more bills to figure out how to pay. Another one overdue, and the mental calculator is going in my head trying to figure out where the money to pay it will come from. Then…one after another…. envelopes that contained checks for the books that had been shipped out, and a couple that contained extra special gifts. Honestly, probably not enough for the plumber bill, but it was indeed to me, an arm outstretched. As I stretched out an arm to help my friend in Indonesia, Others, sending checks from different places at different times, who were also stretching out an arm to me.

It was a very beautiful and humbling moment, to be reminded that Daddy is there, He is watching. To be honest, I have no idea where this is all going to go. I have no idea where money for mortgage payments, utilities payments, and this plumber are all going to come from, but today, for this moment an arm was outstretched to me, and I grabbed hold with all my might.

…till next time…

Forward to a friend

I find it interesting that most all my entries on this blog seem to be at night. Maybe it’s because I find this such a good release, and by this time of the day, I need to vent. But this week, and especially the last few days have been particularly difficult. Perhaps it’s because I have been holed up in the house having neither desire or ability to venture out due to the snow. At least in Minneapolis, they even plowed the residential streets, but no….not here!

Anyway, today I have taken most all of Marilou’s things and packed them to ship or taken them to Goodwill. Kind of a exclamation point to how I’ve been feeling the last few days. And maybe it is depression… I don’t really know. There’s so much that is up in the air in my life right now….I think it was yesterday, the thought went through my head… “Do older people keep on going because they have a sense of purpose in their life, or just because they haven’t died yet?”  The question comes out of this feeling I’ve been dealing with all week, of how much my life really was woven into hers. I wonder if she knows that now? I sure feel it. I have missed her so much this week. And I still have all around me those reminders of how much she meant to me. Even today, I took the last of her clothing to Goodwill. I dropped the bag of clothes off, and decided to go inside. Bad mistake!!  As I was walking around inside Goodwill, I was hit with this emotional bombshell…”This was her hangout!”  I have never known anybody who could get greater bargains from Goodwill as she could. It was a release for her… to just go isle after isle looking and grazing. That thought hit my mind, and my gut, and I did not run, but I walked very fast out the door, saying to myself… “Big mistake!!”

I packed up some pictures, and other things of hers to send to her sister. Her Dad’s bible… she was so glad to get that after he died. That was a treasure for her. Other pictures and mementos went in the box for her sister. Then I packed up a couple of her ball caps to send to Carol. She had this whole basket full of ball caps, and these were ones she got at Jonathan’s graduations from Trinity Seminary and Oxford University. If there was anything that characterized Marilou, it was her ball caps. They are gone now. Well, I have one pink Minnesota Twins cap, and one of her tie died T-shirts still hanging in the bedroom. Those will be the last link… I just couldn’t do that today.

So what is this? This malaise that hangs over me this week? Every day I have been “on the edge” of tears. I know what it is… and I suppose I should just “embrace” it and get on. Grief. It still is a huge part of my life. It is not something I can escape through business or activity. Like I said last time, it’s a stalker… it jumps at you at the worst of times. But this week it has been relentless. Everything  is a reminder. Friday night the prayer group came over. I do enjoy hosting them, and they seem to like coming here. But this Friday, I lit some candles and it was like… Marilou loved her candles… even lighting the candles poked a hole in my heart.

I’m trying to make some fairly dramatic life changes, like starting my own 501C(3) ministry… and I’m realizing, I don’t have her to bounce things off of anymore. She was always there to be a sounding board, and give me wise, sage advice. Even as I have been moving in this direction, there was one time when I could almost hear her telling me she doesn’t  understand why I don’t believe more in myself. — OK, now I’m trying to type through the tears again. It was that way all week. What is this? Why so intense now? Why for so many days without relief? I’m honestly not sure sometimes how it’s all going to look. I’m so used to her being a part of everything. And now… she’s not. Yea, yea… I know what you would say…”Oh but she is a part … in your memories… blah, blah, blah.”  Yea, but that doesn’t cut the mustard, it’s a flimsy way of trying to placate the intensity of these feelings.  What do I do, when every place I turn there is still, almost as much as at the beginning, that sense of loss… of her NOT being here? What is this now?

Then I remember… It’s still really only been four and a half months since she left. You know… that’s really not a very long time. I’ve tried hard. I’m trying to make it… I have virtually no income from Sentinel now… I’m trying to strike out on my own… people around me say it’s a good thing… I KNOW Marilou would say it’s a good thing… gives me more liberty to be myself..I’ve got a nice guy renting a room for three months… I’m trying….but..

Tonight…those four and a half months seem like it was only yesterday. Aren’t I supposed to be getting on with my life? Is sitting here writing this with tears running down my cheeks and my nose running into my mouth… is that getting on with my life?  I don’t know, honestly.  What is this? Is this what it’s going to be like for a long, long time to come? It doesn’t feel tonight like I’m making much progress.

But I’ll keep at it… the Lord has been near and has given me a number of promises as I have been spending more time in His Word. He has been patient with me as I have, even still, asked “Why? I don’t understand!!” I even had some thoughts that she got the better of this deal. She didn’t suffer much, she didn’t suffer long, and boom she’s with Jesus. And here I am trying to figure out.. “What is this?”  OK, it’s grief…OK

….’till next time…

Forward to a friend

It’s 10:30 at night, and I need to write this before, or maybe so I can sleep tonight. Did you know… Grief is a stalker?  It always seems to know how  to hit at some of the most unexpected times, like it’s been stalking you all day, waiting for just the right time to pounce. This time it was as I was doing the simple task of folding my laundry and putting things in the drawers. I don’t know why that seems to be a trigger, and it seems kind of silly, that grief would hit while I’m folding my underwear. Maybe it was because I can still hear her little compliment.. “you do a good job, you fold your clothes so small.” And so standing there folding underwear, grief strikes. It’s the usual scenario. My eyes begin to fill with tears, and I think, “I don’t like this place I’m in.” “Why can’t it be the way it used to be?” “I want the old way back again.” And I know it never will be coming back. She will never be coming back. It seems so unfair. This isn’t something I asked for. Even though there are those times when the enemy whispers those accusing words like, “She would still be around if you had been better.” “It’s your fault because you didn’t treat her better.” I know they are lies, but the voice still echoes in my mind.

I can have a bunch of fairly good days, and then, like a stalker who is just out of sight, just out of range… it strikes, and there’s not a lot I can do about it, but shed the tears, taste the salty tears as they roll down my face and omto my lips, and let the waves of weeping roll over me. It’s something that cannot be described with words… it goes far deeper than words. And sometimes that is also part of the pain, because you know that no one else really knows. No one else really can understand, and so the loneliness of that just adds to the terrible emptiness that I feel as the tears drip off my chin. It is a little scary, how  utterly lonely one can feel sometimes.

After a few minutes… that seem much longer.., the waves subside, I can blow my nose, and dry my eyes, and finish putting away the clean clothes. Grief has gone back into hiding, and things settle back down again. And life goes on, And I live with the reality that the stalker is out there, somewhere in the shadows, waiting for another unexpected moment when it will pounce and attack, and I will be defenseless against it’s ravages. Maybe this is the place where you would expect me to write some nice perspective on this issue. But the fact is, I have no pious thing to say. It is what it is, and grief is a stalker, and attacks at the least expected moment, and I just have to deal with it. There’s nothing easy, or smooth about it. It is just plain ugly and nasty, and it will strike again, of this I am sure. There is not much more to say. Grief is not a friend, not an enemy, it just is… out there somewhere waiting for the next vulnerable moment to strike.  Not an obsession, just a reality. It will be back. I will deal the best I can, and move on… continue to worship, continue to try to move ahead, yet always aware that grief is a stalker.

… till next time…

Forward to a friend

Although no one WANTS to go through times like these… the loss of a life-long companion, and the associated grief, but times like this can be a gift to us. Sounds strange, but these times cause…naw, really force us to re-evaluate our lives, our habits, our possessions, the things that we have made a part of our lives, whether intentionally or not.

Now, if it were only the issue of my wife dying and dealing with that, that would be more than enough to make me re-think some things, but when there are other major life issues that are also teetering on the brink… What am I to think? How should I respond?  This is not a hypothetical question. Now, I stand face to face with the reality of not having any reliable income source. I have a house we just bought and she lived in for just over one month. Everything that seemed to be “reliable” in my life is now pulled out from underneath me. So what will I do? How do I react?

First, you need to understand that this is not the first time that dire circumstances have stared me in the face. There have been many times through the years, but those were times when I had my love and my lives companion with me and we would help support one another, and encourage one another. This is a challenge I essentially face alone. Essentially. Sure there are wonderful people around, and family is around. But this is not their struggle. It is mine.

Secondly, you must understand that I write this not from a spirit of despair or hopelessness. Not at all. Tonight I have been listening to a beautiful CD from Maranatha Music called. “Be Still and Know.” A combination of music and Scripture. It’s like the Lord and I are having a conversation with this tonight. I know He is near, I know He is the provider… I believe in Him.  But there is something more to this wresting in my spirit…something hard to explain.

This was sparked by an article that my daughter Esther posted on Facebook. It was an article by a nurse who tends terminal patients. The article was about the five regrets people had on their death beds.
 The article talked about the usual things of wishing they had not worked so much, enjoyed life more, been closer to their friends. But the message of this article resonated a different message to me. What I took from this article was this: There are rare times in our lives when we have the opportunity to stop, take an honest assessment of our lives, and have the opportunity to walk in a new direction, to “re-invent” ourselves. The overwhelming message to me, is that I stand at such a time. My spouse is gone, my “job” is gone… if I could “re-invent” myself now, if I could head off in a new direction… what would that be? Can I really do that at age 63? Why not? But … what?


Again, be careful you do not hear me wrongly. I am not talking about abandoning my faith. Never! I am in a deeper love relationship with my God and Savior now than I have ever been in my entire life. I only want it to go deeper. I love to serve Him and others. I have had the honor of doing and seeing amazing things. Things that few have the privilege of being a part of. I am not turning my back on that. I am deeply, deeply, humbly thankful for all God has allowed me to do in these years. But…

Is this a time, an opening into a whole new future that God is giving to me? I stand at the threshold, and it’s as if “Someone” is asking me what I want to do, who I want to be when I step on the other side of that threshold. And the honest answer to that question is… I don’t know! That’s what is so scary! I am more able, and more willing at this point in my life to take some radical move than I have ever been. I am looking at this whole future of mine, however long it lasts, as my “great adventure” with my Daddy. But right now, I do not know what that should, could, or what I want it to look like.

I do not want the door to close, and I stand here, and then wish I had taken that one step across the threshold. I am more afraid of that than of anything. That I will hesitate too long, and miss this opportunity. So I wonder, and I ponder and I pray… Lord, Don’t let me miss this… even if it seems crazy to everyone, if it is you, I am ready… show me the way. What will that be? Just maybe I’ll  have a chance to write it here… someday. maybe someday soon.

….till next time…

Forward to a friend