faith – Peace, Love & Grief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Sometimes

A couple of my kids and I spent a long Easter weekend in Michigan with Bruce’s family… also (now) my family, as they are constantly reminding me. It makes me smile… Both to hear them affirm that their love for me is about me and them and didn’t disappear when Bruce died… and also to feel the warmth of that love up close and personal. I always leave there feeling immensely grateful of each of them and the richness they add to my existence.

When Bruce died, I was terrified of losing that space in their lives. In the few short years I had known them, my love for them and the bonds between us had grown organically. So, when Bruce died, I was terrified of losing that. Everything I read said to expect that for several reasons. The two I remember are:

1. I would be a reminder of what they had lost and maintaining a relationship might be too hard for them.
or
2. The relationship was really centered around the person we had all lost, and without him, there wasn’t really a relationship.

Thankfully, none of that proved to be true. At that time, though, I wasn’t sure. My world had been tossed upside down. I had no idea what to expect.

I felt so alone… so abandoned, to be honest. (Probably a silly way to phrase it but was exactly how I felt.) To trust the depth of our relationship and rest comfortably within it did not come easily, and I struggled with that for years.

This year, though, we were able to be together for the Easter holiday, which brought so many thoughts and emotions to my mind…

Easter is supposed to be about hope and joy… the ongoing love and life that our faith calls us to live. Bruce, who was not “churchy” by any means, was extremely spiritual and lived this day in and day out. In fact, it was because of his influence, I was finally able to explore my own faith… Minimally while he was alive, and fully after his death.

Over the past several years, through this faith journey, I have come to think that maybe… just maybe… Bruce was meant to start me on this journey, due to my own feelings of inadequacy. However, the work of the journey had to be mine. Otherwise, I might never have found my way… Instead, it might have just been another example of following someone else’s path rather than my own.

This, then, has led me to realize just how much I actually absorbed from simply watching him live what he believed while he was alive. I can honestly say that he lived the most Christ-like life I have ever encountered – and that includes preachers, priests, nuns, etc. Why? After all, he didn’t preach. In fact, he didn’t use words at all when it came to how he lived his life. He didn’t need to… His faith wasn’t based on dogma. It was based on transformative live… And he simply lived that – each and every day.

All of these thoughts hit me this past weekend, as the Christian world celebrated the Easter season, followed immediately by the death of another person who lived his faith – Pope Francis. While I’m not Catholic anymore, I had great respect for this man who called for the world to stop judging and excluding and to simply love others. That was the same message Bruce lived… The same message I am trying to live, (although, I know I still stumble a lot).

On our flight home, a quote I read lately popped into my mind that kind of wraps it all up…

“Sometimes ‘I love you’ means ‘I’m setting you free’.” ~ r. h. Sin, The Year of Letting Go, May 25

Bruce loved me. I know that. I still (to this day) feel his love all around me. Do I think he wanted to die? No. Do I really think he simply abandoned me? No. Was he “setting me free” to finish this journey he had helped me start? … Perhaps.

Maybe it was simply his time to go… Whatever he was called to do on this earth was done… And perhaps, I was a part of what he needed to do – to set me on the path to healing and living my own faith.
I think I will always believe and hold onto that… Not that he had to die for me to find my faith… But instead, when he died, I would have what I needed to continue my own journey… And all because he had quietly lived his own.

So, this Easter season has truly been one of joy and hope for me… Mostly because of Bruce and how he loved me… my kids… and both of our families – no judgements and no holding back – just pure unconditional love and acceptance… And what could possibly give a person more joy and hope than experiencing something like that?
___________________________________________________________
Grief is a daily challenge. It changes us in ways we could never foresee, making this journey a difficult path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you. Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love, and Grief – Trying to Bloom

Bloom where you are planted…

I believe I have seen this saying on so many schoolroom walls that when I see it now, I just look right past it… until today when it showed up at the very end of my devotional.

Seriously? I’m a grown up, not a kid… And yet, even at this point in my life, I must admit that I am still just chugging through, day-by-day, trying to make sense out of this life. Last week, I talked about the “10 steps” *, and where I am currently on that path. (There were several that still have me stumbling along.)

Step 7: Finding Meaning, Step 8: Redefining Ourselves, Step 9: Living with Our Loss, and Step 10: Accepting Life – these seem to be the ones where I am currently working. So, when I saw the phrase, “bloom where you are planted”, those steps instantly popped into my mind along with the thought that I am (finally) “growing” where I have been planted… But I’m not blooming… I am definitely not blooming.

There may be a few buds on the branches, however, I still have such mixed feelings about my love for Bruce, his death, and my life without him still in front of me… It is all like some big, jumbled knot where I want to bloom. I want to be happy. I want to just live my life and “be”.

At the same time, all of that feels pointless and blank. I struggle to get to a place emotionally where doing all of that without Bruce will somehow be okay… True, I am better than I was… but I know I still have a long way to go.

How do I get there? I know Bruce is dead. I believe I have accepted that. However, it is the part where I see beyond that that is the problem. Learning to find the joy in life without the instant desire to share that moment with Bruce is a challenge. Learning to make my way through the twists and turns that life throws at each of us every day… all on my own… is even harder.

Wouldn’t you know it, though? Life… the universe… the Divine (use whatever word makes you comfortable) somehow has a way of answering our questions if we will just slow down and be quiet long enough to hear…

So, as I turned to the next book in my current morning routine, (still pondering “how to bloom” where I am), this paragraph seemed to jump from the page…

“Acceptance does not mean you agree with, condone, appreciate, or even like what has happened. Acceptance means that you know, regardless of what happened, that there is something bigger than you at work… You know that you are okay and that you will continue to be okay.” ~ Iyanla Vanzant, Forgiveness

That was just what I needed to hear to get my brain moving…

Then, I remembered Step 6: Faith… That is where I need to look. While I have gone to church my entire life, I felt deserted by that faith years ago. So, I am well aware that my own faith journey really just started in the last few years. It has taken me a long time to deconstruct what I was told to believe and to reconstruct what I know and believe through my own experiences.

I know that is the step that will help me figure out the others… That is the step that will lead me to a place where I can find meaning, redefine myself, learn to live with this loss, accept the life I have been gifted… and, finally, to bloom.

Will I get there today? Nope… I probably won’t even get there this year, but I am on the right path, and so there is no hurry. Life will keep providing the insight and I will keep growing… There is no need to pretend I have all the answers – I don’t. I readily admit to the challenges in my world since Bruce died… But I won’t give up on myself… I won’t give up on learning to bloom right here where I am currently planted.

* I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye, by Brook Noel & Pamela D. Blair, PhD, 2008 edition, pp208 – 209
__________________________________________________
Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. Learning to take it one day/moment at a time is all any of us can do.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief – Mary Did You Know?

Warning: I am going to talk a bit about religion today. You may or may not agree with me, and that is okay. This is not a debate on which religion is right or wrong. Nor is it a sermon trying to “win” anyone over to what I believe. Spirituality is a personal journey for each of us, and I am simply sharing some of the thoughts I have had on my journey… nothing more.

I have spent most of the past 10+ years since Bruce died on my own personal, spiritual journey… Trying to figure out what I believe (and why) versus what others say I should believe (and the why behind those that I can’t quite wrap my brain around). It has taken a long time, but I am finally at a point where I know I am moving in the right direction. I feel growth. I feel change. And most importantly, I feel closer to God, (the universe or whatever name you choose), than at any other point.

One of the things I was always taught was the idea of “original sin”. This is the thought that we are all born “bad” … We are all “sinners”. Well, honestly, that never made any sense to me. I mean, if God is the creator of everything, and God cannot do anything “bad” or “wrong”, then how are people created with original sin. (Yes, I know all the arguments and religious dogma that supports this concept. I’m just saying, I don’t buy it.)

Instead, I take a complete turn here. I believe that if God creates everything, then just as our own children carry around a part of us (our DNA/genes), we must also hold a bit of the Divine within each of us. Like a drop of water from the ocean… That drop is not the ocean, but it holds part of the ocean within it. In other words, while none of us are God, we are all Divine… There is a spark of God within each of us, rather than God being something external and completely outside of ourselves.

Boy, that sure changes how I not only look at myself, but how I view those around me.

My newest goal (going into 2024) is to make a conscious effort to see that Divine spark within each person I encounter. Then, rather than judging that person, I can ponder the idea that we are all simply trying to figure this life out in the best way we know how in that moment. At any given time, we are all at different places on this path, and likely learning different things since those things are dependent on each individual journey. (Hopefully, that makes a little bit of sense.)

Keeping all that in mind, I found myself in the car yesterday traveling from one Christmas errand to the next and listening to Christmas music on the radio. (Confession: I may or may not have been singing at the top of my lungs, as well.) Suddenly, the song, Mary, Did You Know, came on the radio.

I know that song gets a lot of flak from people who say, “Of course, she knew. God/the angel/scripture told her.” I don’t really care what other people say… I love that song. You know why? Because it makes Mary a very human, teenage girl who found herself pregnant and unmarried. (Something I can absolutely relate to.) I don’t know about you, but when I was a teenager, I did not think like an adult. I doubt any of us did. It’s just not the way the human body matures. (And I doubt Mary did either.)

If it were me, I would have heard what the angel told me, but I would not have had the maturity needed to actually understand and think through what all that might mean, much less how to apply it to this infant who (to all my teenage understanding) was acting like every other human baby on the planet. He cried. He soiled his diapers. He got hungry. As he grew, he ran. He laughed. He fell down. He scraped his knees. He cried. He wanted hugs and kisses… Just like any other child.

So… in the song, when they say, “Did you know … When your kiss your little baby, you’ve kissed the face of God,” my heart melts… every time. Yet yesterday, I found myself taking that a step further… If I believe that we all have a spark of the Divine within each of us, then when I kiss each of my (now adult) littles or my grandson, I am also kissing the face of God. When I see my neighbor, whose name I may not even know, I am seeing the face of God. When the Amazon driver drops off my packages, am I also looking at the face of God? How about when I watch the news? When I see people on both sides of a political debate or a battle in a war-torn country, can I choose to see the face of God in everyone?

Is that what Jesus the Christ meant when he said, “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12)? Was he calling us to see that Divine spark and simply love (at the very least) that part of each person? Was he showing us that this is our common ground? … This is the thing that can bring us all together. (I like to think so.)

After my divorce and before I met Bruce, I remember my mother saying that she was praying that I would find someone to love me… really love me… unconditionally, like Jesus loves. I remember she wrote me a letter that said, “I am praying that you will find that person in your world who will be Jesus with skin on.”

Bruce was that person for me. He loved me completely and unconditionally. He showed me that love… real love… is unconditional. (After all, once you put conditions on it, it isn’t love anymore.) He brought healing to my world by encouraging me to explore my own faith and spirituality… And when I kissed his face, I kissed the face of God.

So here I am, so many years later, finally realizing that I don’t believe in the God of my childhood. I don’t believe in a God that is vengeful or out to get me or any of those other ideas than try to create a Divine relationship out of fear.

I believe in a God who is in all things. I believe in a God who is all love. I believe in a God who calls on me to see the same Divine spark in others and to be (like God) that same love-filled soul (to the extent that I am able) in each moment.

In other words, I haven’t got it all figured out. I am simply on this journey. Some days are easier, and some days are harder. Yet each day is another opportunity to love… the way Bruce loved me… and the way God still loves me.

Thank you, Babe, for loving me so completely, and for encouraging me on this path!
________________________________________________________

Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. That is why I share the mistakes I have made, as well as what I have felt and learned along the way. Even sharing our stories of love and life can be helpful on this journey. We know learning to function on this new path is hard, and it is easy to lose our way or forget that we don’t have to do it alone. I don’t think any of us chose to be here… I know I didn’t. Yet, this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined and emotions that feel overwhelming at times. So often, I think I have it all figured out, only to find that isn’t true at all. Despite the years since Bruce passed, my life is still filled with challenges, as I am sure yours is too. This year, my goal is to simply ‘be’… Be me, be kind, be compassionate, be loving, be hopeful… to just ‘be’ and to be comfortable with that… however it looks.

Thankfully, I know I am not alone… None of us are… We have each other. It is our love for those we have lost that brings us together into this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love, and Grief… What’s Faith Got to Do with It?

I have written about it before, so most of you are aware that just a few weeks before Bruce died, I came to the realization that my faith wasn’t really mine… or at the very least, had ceased to grow in a way that was helpful. I had reached a point where the dogma had become more hurtful than hopeful.

Then, when Bruce died, it all fell apart…

The little bit of faith I thought I had left quickly drained away. The loss… the feelings of abandonment… the loneliness… the complete devastation… it was too much… How could a God who knew all… who knew me… who knew how much Bruce and I loved each other… who knew how much healing Bruce had brought to me and my kids… How could a God that knew all of this, let Bruce die… How??

I couldn’t wrap my brain around it – at least not for years.

I remember all the expressions of sympathy from my friends and family. Their love and caring meant the world to me… Each and every note truly helped to hold me up. The only things I truly struggled with were the things people said that fell flat, such as “He’s in a better place” or “God needed another angel”. NO! Those words were not comforting… Those words did not offer empathy or compassion. Instead, those words simply fueled my anger and pointed it to a God who came across as selfish and uncaring if those phrases were accurate. That was not a God who I wanted anything to do with.

At the same time, when there were verses attached to the note on a card, written in a song, or sent in a GIF, I paid attention… I was desperate for something – anything – to ease the pain I felt.

I can remember some that I found helpful were:

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” ~ Psalm 147:3

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” ~ Jeremiah 29:1

I also remember when people tried to tell me that grieving showed a lack of faith, or that I needed to “get over it and move forward”, or any number of things that called for me to deny my grief and behave in a way that made others more comfortable. Then, I remembered and found these:

“Jesus wept.” ~ John 11:35 (It is noted several times that Jesus wept, but this particular time was in response to the death of a dear friend.)

“Then Jesus said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.’” ~Matthew 26:38

How about that? … Jesus wept… Jesus grieved… Not only was it okay for me to feel this way, this God I had been raised to trust knew how I felt… This God was by my side and grieving with me.

“I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you… You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” ~ Isaiah 43: 1-2, 4

Before long, my faith journey started. A real journey… a journey to let go of everything I had been taught and the man-made dogma that went with it. (Honestly, this is still my journey, and I hope it never ends, because now I love what I am learning.)

Anyway, it wasn’t too long before Psalm 46:10 (“Be still and know that I am God.”) became my mantra and my morning meditation. It became a way to sit still and allow myself to find comfort in the Divine – “One God, One life, one mind, one heart… Together we are one.” This has become my morning tradition, and while it isn’t for everyone, I find great comfort in it.

The past few months, as I have been working on healing other areas of my life, I have found myself missing Bruce and feeling down on myself more than usual… more than I have in years. In fact, the more I deal with the mistakes I have made through the years, the more I have disliked and been angry with myself… And the more I have hated myself, the more I have missed Bruce… The man who saw so much more in me than I ever did… The man who believed in me and helped me keep a level head about my past, as well as, where I was heading.

Then, last week, the universe floated this verse into my world:

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” ~ Philippians 1:3

Oh my gosh! How simple and how true! I may be having a good day or a bad day… I may be happy or grieving or angry… Yet, no matter what, I really do thank God every single day for this man… This man who showed me true, unconditional love with every breath.
_________________________________________________________
Grief changes us. This journey is not an easy path for anyone. Learning to function on this new path is hard. I don’t think any of us chose to be here, but this is where life has landed us for now… This is where we are. Our lives are now filled with challenges we never imagined. Each time I think I have it all figured out; I find I don’t at all, despite the years since Bruce passed. Life is filled with challenges for all of us. For me, my goal is to look at this year before me and (intentionally) hold onto the joy and the hope life holds.

Peace, Love, and Grief… A Message for Me

The last few weeks have found me cleaning out and throwing out. I have bins upon bins in my garage due to several circumstances… I had to move everything out of my house when I had new floors installed this summer; my daughter and I emptied out a storage unit we had been renting together; and I will be working from home permanently, so I went and got all of my stuff from the office. I don’t want all this stuff, though. So, I am determined that nothing is coming back into this house until I go through it and decide if I really want to keep it… Everything else is either charity or trash.

(Sigh)… What an undertaking… However, slowly but surely, I am making progress.

It has also been quite interesting to see old family pictures, newspaper clippings of my kids, pictures of Bruce and I that I had forgotten about, and the list goes on and on. Each day I unpack and go through at least one bin, and today, I chose one of the bins filled with stuff from my office.

I was just there gathering my stuff this past week. It was so eerie going into that huge empty building. There was no one there except me and the security guard… and the silence was deafening. It was also sad… the idea of not going there again… not seeing my friends… or hearing people laugh across the room… or even that low hum of business… of people focused and working.

I will miss all that…

I have worked in that office longer than I have worked or lived anywhere… over 12 years. It probably sounds weird, but that office holds a sweet spot in my heart. In the weeks and months after Bruce died, it provided me with a space to go to that felt “normal.” Because of what I do, Bruce had never been inside my office, so it didn’t feel weird that he wasn’t there. It felt like it was supposed to… It felt like it should… It felt like work.

That space quickly became a sanctuary away from the overwhelming grief and silence I felt at home. I think that is why I went back to work so soon after he died. I just couldn’t continue to sit in this house any longer, staring at the walls and waiting (praying) for him to return. But the office offered a distraction… There was work to do, and people all around me doing exactly that. And, whenever I felt too sad or needed a break from all of that, I simply shut the door to my office for a little while.

A few months after Bruce died, the son of one of my friends there was killed in a horrible accident. In the months that followed, she and I reached out to each other in our grief for support… and hugs… and just to know there was someone who understood the pain that we were both drowning in.

One particular morning, she came into my office, handed me a piece of paper, and sat down. She had had a dream the night before, and in her dream, Bruce had asked her to give me a message. At the time, I took that piece of paper and taped it to my computer. I needed that daily reminder that I wasn’t alone…

However, over time, my mind grew accustomed to that piece of paper, and after years of it sitting in the same space, I barely noticed it. In fact, in the 17 months we have been working from home, I don’t believe I have thought of that piece of paper back in the office at all. I simply forgot all about it… until today when I was unpacking that bin from the office.

And there it was… torn and stained, but still there…

“From Bruce: (2/6/2014)
I pray that you will realize the depth and breadth of God’s love for you – a love that has no limits. I pray that you will have a revelation of His immense love for you knowing that nothing can separate you from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Neither death nor life, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers in all creation can keep God from loving you. May God’s demonstration of His love through His son be so real, that there will be no room for doubt. May you experience the fullness of God’s love today.”

This precious message was originally sent to me at a time when I was struggling with my faith and praying for answers… I wasn’t even sure I wanted to believe in a God who had let the love of my life die in my arms. Then… to have that same message reappear in my world today… a time when I find myself solidly on a path of faith where Bruce’s own legacy has guided me consistently over the years…

Well… All I can say it that my heart is full today, and I am so thankful for the love and blessings that Bruce still brings to my world.

To old friends, (whose names I recognize week to week), as well as anyone new to our site… I am sorry for the reason you are here. I hate it for you. This is not a club that anyone wants to join. Yet, here we are, and none of us are alone. This journey is an odd one – filled with challenges we never imagined. We never know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when something will remind us of our loved ones. We never know when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger. That can sometimes make this journey feel even more lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We are here for each other. This journey holds both challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us. Yet, it is actually our love for those we have lost that brings us together to this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love, and Grief… Finding My Way

“And when we examine the deeper issues of our beliefs or questions – particularly when the roots of those beliefs are not merely information but gut-level experience rooted in sadness and grief – well, it is sacred ground or scary ground, a minefield. That’s okay. One thing I’ve learned is that the Holy Spirit can be trusted. When the time is right, the time is right.” ~ Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts: Making Peace with an Evolving Faith

Over the past few months, I have had several friends say that they have moved away from the faith of their childhood, and are searching for something more… Not a new religion, but a faith that they can call their own… A faith born out of who they are and the experiences that have brought them to this point.

I get it… I started on this same journey well before Bruce died…

It’s funny… when we first met, I thought I had it all figured out. I knew what my religion taught. I could go through the rituals and say all the prayers. I could stand and kneel and fold my hands and bow my head. I could quote scripture and place my offering in the basket when it was passed. I spent my days trying to “get it right” … wanting this religion to hold all the answers…

But it didn’t… It couldn’t… not for me at least… I was divorced (Oh my, no!) and about to remarry. (Well, you can’t get much more “sinful” than that.) I can remember sitting in choir and hearing people talk about my situation. I can remember having a fellow teacher tell me I was no longer welcome to take communion. I can remember being made to feel that my faith was somehow “less” simply because I refused to stay in a violent marriage, and instead, chose to find someone who could love me and my children unconditionally.

Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t the priest, (he was quite supportive), or my friends, (they were wonderful). It was only a handful of people, but it still hurt… And it left me doubting my faith and my religion. I hadn’t quit or given up yet, but the seed had been planted.

Then there was Bruce… He was a quiet, humble, private man who knew what he believed. He was a man who knew what unconditional love meant and how to express it. Seemingly without effort, he lived a life that was true to what he believed and centered on those around him. When we first met, I remember thinking that I needed to be sure he was “saved” … that he was a “Christian.” After all, I couldn’t marry someone who wasn’t a Christian.

However, it didn’t take me long to realize, he lived the most Christ-like life I had ever experienced. It wasn’t too long before I was asking him questions… I loved our conversations about God and faith. I soon learned that our biggest difference was he didn’t give two hoots about dogma or what someone else said he should think. He was quite capable of figuring out his own spiritual path.

Only months before he died, I found myself leaving church mid-sermon and in tears, because the pastor was insisting that his view point of a certain scripture was the only right one, and any other opinion was from the devil himself. In that moment, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore… As much as I love my God and my faith, and as much as I wanted to “get it right,” I knew this path was not the right one for me…

I cried and grieved for days as I realized, I couldn’t go back… and I really didn’t want to… I needed something more… I needed to start from scratch and figure out what I truly believed – not what anyone else was telling me to think. I no longer wanted the faith of my childhood or the faith of my parents. I needed something that was mine and spoke to my heart… Something more relational; something that was big enough to allow me to push back – to debate and question and doubt… Something that would expand my own thoughts and fill me up so I could live a life that was true to what I believe. In other words, I was looking for something more like what Bruce had. I mean, the rituals and all are nice and definitely filled with emotion in the moment. But I needed something more… Not a list of do’s and don’ts… I needed something that was real all the time – day in and day out – moment by moment.

Then, less than two months later, Bruce died… and I floundered. I was so mad at God. I stopped praying… I stopped my devotions… I stopped singing… I stopped all of it. In my grief, I just couldn’t care about a God who didn’t seem to care about me.

But time passed… and my faith is too deeply rooted, I suppose, to let go completely. So… I started thinking about the many conversations with Bruce about what he believed, which led me to read the books he had read, and listen to the speakers he had listened to… In a lot of ways, I was starting from square one. In other ways, my prior religious upbringing, gave me a lot of background knowledge that helped me find context and value in the things I was learning.

For the longest time, I thought I was alone. I thought I was the only one on this journey. Then, a couple of years ago, I learned about a whole movement within the church that is heading in this same direction… (like another Reformation, only better, because I am actually blessed to experience it firsthand.)

I am still on this journey, and hopefully, will be for the rest of my life. I love not having all the answers. I love reading and thinking and comparing all of the different aspects of what I thought I knew, what I am learning, and how all of it is shaping what I now believe.

So, as I sit here this week, listening as my friends find their own way, I understand their pain, their frustration, and their struggle. Still, I find myself smiling… Yes, it is a bittersweet moment, because I keep thinking about the fact that I would never have been on this path if it weren’t for Bruce… (And maybe even because of my grief over his death). His legacy of living a life that was true to his beliefs, has been a shining example for my own path… He did and still does give me the courage to keep digging… to keep reaching… and to simply keep on…

And I am forever thankful for that.

To old friends, (whose names I recognize week to week), as well as, anyone new to our site… I am sorry for the reason you are here. I hate it for you. At the same time, you really AREN’T alone. This journey is an odd one – filled with challenges we never imagined. We never know from one day to the next, or one moment to the next, when something will remind us of our loved ones. We never know when another wave of grief will hit or what will be the next trigger. That can sometimes make this journey feel even more lonely. Yet, there are other times when I know I am not alone at all. We are here for each other. This journey holds both challenges and peace-filled moments for each of us. Yet, it is actually our love for those we have lost that brings us together to this space where we can share our experiences. I believe the sharing of our stories is so important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

Peace, Love and Grief – Happy Life day!

“Hey, Babe! Guess what today is! It’s my “Happy Life Day.” Your mom just called me to say, “Happy Life Day.” I love her! … I miss you!” ~ Linda, March 2021

Today I got a call from Bruce’s Mom. She was calling to tell me “Happy Life Day.”

“What is that?” I thought, and just as quickly, she explained that three years ago today, I was given the scary news that I had breast cancer. Yet, here I am, three years later, alive and well and moving on… Happy Life Day!! (She knew what a big deal this has been… She had it marked on her calendar – not me.)

Bruce’s Mom (my mom by default) is such a sweet woman… such a dear friend! I can’t imagine how hard it must be… Her son is gone. He never had the chance to fight for his life. And yet, here I am… I was given the chance to fight. I was given the blessing of life… Happy Life Day!

It’s hard to live with the fact that Bruce wasn’t so lucky… He wasn’t given the chance to fight… I know… “survivor’s guilt” of a sort, I suppose. I know it’s hard for me… I can’t even imagine how his own parents must feel… I’m still here, while he is gone… The whole thing is just plain awful!

Earlier this week, though, I heard a phrase that caught my attention, “In order to leave something significant behind, you have to leave.”

That’s what Bruce did… at least for me. I have learned so much about myself, my faith, my views… all because of him… and the legacy he left in his wake.

There is a (huge) part of me that questions God all the time. “Couldn’t I have learned all this from him while he was still here? Did he really have to go for me to figure all this sh## out?” (Please excuse my language, but God knows I’m a bit rough around the edges and still a little bit angry about the whole “Bruce dying” thing.) Anyway, I don’t know… I don’t have an answer… He’s never given me one.

This path for me started months earlier… Just a few months before Bruce died, I got up in the middle of a church service, tears streaming down my face, because I had suddenly realized my faith wasn’t my own, and because of that, this church was becoming toxic (for me), rather than a blessing. I didn’t know what I needed to do, but I knew I couldn’t stay.

I remember coming home in tears. Bruce never asked a single question… He just held me while I cried. (And I cried so hard, I had two black eyes the next morning.) When I was finally able to vocalize what had happened, he just held me even tighter. I remember he told me that he knew my faith was important to me, I shouldn’t give up, and I needed to give myself the time and grace to figure it all out… And God would give me both.

He was right… It has taken years, and I am still on that path… And it is all because of him that I haven’t given up… I haven’t quit. It is all because of this wonderful man who knew and loved me enough to recognize my need for faith…

He knew me… And he knew I just needed some time…

Something he didn’t have…

Something he never got…

My faith tells me that I have to believe that is because his work here was done. (Although, I would still argue against that point.) However, he did have a huge legacy to leave behind… A legacy of faith and spirituality… A legacy of unconditional love and patience… A legacy I pray I can live up to… because I still love him… And as much as I can’t wait to be with him again… I am thrilled to be celebrating another “Happy Life Day,” and I will continue to fight to be here for as long as I am needed.

This grief journey has been one of the greatest challenges I have ever had. This journey has broken me down to the roots of my soul and has taken me years to feel some semblance of “normal.” I know it is easy to feel like this journey is nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

Peace, Love and Grief… Walking in the Dark

Over the past several weeks, I have been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. It is a spiritual book about our conviction to assign good with light and bad with dark, whether physical, spiritual, psychologically, etc. In the book, she makes the argument that there is good and bad in both the light and the dark… That to live a full life we not only need to experience both, we need to accept both as neither good nor bad… Instead, each are necessary with their own rhythms, qualities, and comforts. Without one, there is no way to appreciate and fully understand the other.

I love that idea. Sure, I will readily admit that I am the first one to turn on all the lights as the sun goes down. I am sure it is my vain attempt to keep the darkness “out there” while lighting up the world around me. But… is that necessary? And when applied as an analogy, is that the best way to live?

I’m really not here to debate that… In fact, as I write this, while it is the middle of the day, a storm is rolling in and it is dark enough at my table that I have turned on the light above me. But then again, the author didn’t say light was bad either… Her point is to accept both as they are… not to assign qualities that aren’t there.

This week, I have found myself pondering this over and over. In fact, there was one section that I can’t seem to let go…

“To be human is to live by sunlight and moonlight, with anxiety and delight, admitting limits and transcending them, falling down and rising up. To want a life with only half of these things in it is to want half a life, shutting the other half away where it will not interfere with one’s bright fantasies of the way things ought to be.”

~ Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

This section has had me contemplating my life since Bruce died… I know I have used darkness in many analogies about grief… I suppose that is because it feels true for me. Yet, I am afraid of walking down this path with grief as my lantern. There is a fear of this path that is hard to describe… It is a fear of being alone… and a fear of not being alone… There is the dread of being abandoned, and yet I no longer seem to welcome new friendships with the open arms I once did.

That is when I realized, as scared as I am to be on this path… to walk in the dark… I believe I may be just as scared, if not more so, to get off. I guess, the unknown darkness has become familiar. Or… Perhaps I am terrified of ever going through anything like Bruce’s death ever again. I don’t know that I would survive it a second time.

Yes, I know I will experience more death in the time ahead… That is life and I am getting older, and that just is what it is. However, the idea of opening up enough to let anyone new into my life and then losing them… I can’t do it… I just don’t have enough of whatever that takes. The darkness I felt all around me after Bruce died was blinding… I was numb for so long… unable to feel… not wanting to move… or breathe… just sitting in my darkness and letting it envelope me.

While it has been a few years since I felt that way, I can remember that feeling like it was only this morning, and I don’t want to go back there. There are still days when I must remind myself that life is good, and I am blessed. When I think of Bruce, there are still days when I have to decide whether I am going to remember our time together and smile or think of his death and cry. I’m not trying to be melodramatic; I am just being honest about what this felt like then, and what it still feels like.

It may seem strange, but some of the best comfort I have found over the years comes when I think of my grandfather. We called him, Pop, and he was a huge piece of my life. My father wasn’t around much in my younger years, but my Pop, well… he was always there. They lived behind us, and he always had time for this silly little girl who just wanted to be hugged and held.

I sat by him in church whenever I could finagle it. I loved sitting in his lap on Sunday afternoons… The two of us in his big old chair with my head on his chest – listening to him talk and laugh. The summer I learned to drive, he took me in his car, and we drove around the block… over and over and over… No matter what was going on in my life, I always knew he would be there.

But life wasn’t easy for him; he was a man who had a rough start in life. Both of his parents died when he was younger, and he was sent to live with his aunts. After 7th grade, he had to quit school and go to work to support the family. Yet, as I remember him, he always had a smile. He never backed away from life’s challenges but seemed to meet them head on. And why? To me, it just seemed like he had a faith that knew no bounds. One of his favorite hymns, which seemed to express his faith, was How Great Thou Art…

This week I needed to hear that song… At the time, I didn’t know why. Yet, when I hunted it down and listened, so much seemed clear… I think I simply needed a piece of Pop’s faith… When the words came, “I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughs out the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art,” * it hit me… Pop had not only learned to walk in the dark, but he also had learned to find the good there… the blessings and comfort that lay quietly within its rhythms.

His faith allowed him to see that even when it was dark, God provided stars to light the way… Even when the thunder rolls, God is near…. Because of his faith, I understood – I am not on this path alone… and grief is not my only light. There is a peace here in the darkness… a peace that, with time, can build in me the courage I need to live fully by sunlight and by moonlight.

* How Great Thou Art, original poem by Carl Gustav Boberg

Grief is challenging. It can feel like the loneliest path at times since it creates a different path for each of us. However, just because our journeys may be different, it doesn’t mean we have to be alone. We can find courage and strength in one another. We can shyly open our hearts to one another and take a chance that we can survive whatever lies ahead. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.

To leave a comment or story, go to the comments and leave us a note. * Who knows… your story may the answer for someone else.

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

* Be advised that all comments are subject to approval prior to posting. Any comments determined to be spam or not in accordance with the mission of this website/blog will not be approved or posted. Furthermore, any comments determined to be hostile in nature will be reported to the proper authorities. Thank you.

Peace, Love and Grief… Things You Taught Me, Part 2

As I mentioned last week, I went on a spiritual retreat a couple of weeks ago on the coast of Georgia. That week of quiet and deep self-reflection was such a blessing… I think the last time I felt so much healing in my soul was when Bruce was here… When he was such a vibrant part of my life… As I stated, I hope you will continue to humor me as I share a little bit more of what I experienced there and the impact it has had on my grief for Bruce and my on-going journey…

To give you a little bit of background, while I was baptized in the Methodist church as an infant, I actually spent my childhood and teen years in the Southern Baptist church and most of my adult life as a Roman Catholic. My experience in both was mostly one of religious rules and exclusivity… a “believe or burn” mentality. My experience was one of fear and distrust, but I didn’t know there was anything else out there. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I thought I was doing okay… That is until Bruce died.

Then, I found I had a religion that couldn’t stand up to my questions… My world fell apart… How could a God who loved me, give this wonderful gift of a man and then just as quickly take it away? Why?

I wasn’t equipped with any real answers to that question, and so I become angry… very angry. My orderly world no longer made sense… The “Sunday School” answers weren’t enough… And I struggled. However, on this end of the story, I can tell you, that is a good thing, because I was forced to look at my faith and determine what I really believed, versus what I had been told to believe. It took me a long time, but day by day, I reassembled my faith from the ground up.

The funny thing is Bruce would never have told me what to believe or not believe. Instead, the way he chose to live his life and the legacy he left behind is really what helped me more than anything I had learned in my fifty years of religious practices. While Bruce’s death is probably the worst thing I have ever had to endure, it is also the thing that forced me down this path.

Last week I talked bout a dream I had early in this grief journey, in which Bruce told me that God is nothing like the God I had been taught to believe in all those years. God is so much more… But I still had so many unanswered questions…

Day 2 Reflections:
Hi Babe,

Wow! My mind is BLOWN! I swear it feels as if the speakers here have peered into my head and found all the crap… All the stuff that has been an obstacle with my faith… and now they say, “Nope, that really is crap… Let it go!” To take away the hierarchy of the trinity and temper all their qualities with love is what I have dreamed of… what I have needed… what you always lived… But I never knew how to articulate it.

When you died, I was so absolutely angry with God! Why didn’t he use his “power” to save you? Why did I have to be the one to fail at your CPR? What was the wisdom in that?

All my life I knew I had made mistakes, but I had asked for forgiveness – no! I had said I was sorry… I had never asked for forgiveness. I thought forgiveness had to come by proving how sorry I was. By proving I was worthy of it – by being devout enough… But I was told that God couldn’t love me or forgive me, because I didn’t understand “my place” … My lifestyle wasn’t “Christian enough.”

So, I learned to be quiet… Then, I stopped praying… Then, I stopped listening… Then, you died, Babe… And I was alone… all alone, and oh, so mad. There was nothing to love about God; nothing to trust. That is until you started me on my true spiritual journey, which has led me here… to this day and this class.

I feel so validated! I wanted to jump up in class this today and shout, “Did you hear this?! This is the good news! This is the most wondrous and exciting thing I have ever heard and understood!” The idea of the trinity – NO! The reality of the trinity being a balance of male/female, power, wisdom, goodness, and truth – all tempered in love… in all parts of the trinity in all things at all times is beyond my wildest thoughts!

This means I am in God (at all times), and God is in me (at all times), and God is in everything and every moment (at ALL times).

Do you realize what this also means???

God was with us, Babe, the night you died… God was in my tears and my horror as I watched you die in my arms. And God was in my anger… He held me when I railed against him and loved me when I cursed him. He held me tight when I begged him to take me too… But the problem wasn’t him… or me. It was my understanding of a gap between us that I couldn’t cross, and I felt like he refused to try… What a horrible thought. No wonder I was so angry.

And now, today, to realize there is no such gap… “There is no reality that is separate from what He created” ** … and “All shall be well, and All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” *** This makes me feel hope.

I still grieve for you, Babe. I still don’t understand – but I trust God does care and loves me… Not only that, but more… Those are still “separation” thoughts. There is no separation – He is in me – experiencing all I have and will experience, just as much as He is in each tree and blade of grass. We are all his creation – we are all Him… We are all enfolded in his love and goodness, protected by his power and led by his wisdom.

What great news! Thank you, Babe for leading me here!

The healing that came in these days is amazing and powerful, as I came to realize so much of what Bruce had been trying to tell me all along. There was so much he showed me while he was here. Yet, it wasn’t until after his death that I finally “heard” him. He left a legacy that I am still unraveling and is still influencing my life… that is a blessing I never expected or knew could exist!

What about you? Have you ever found yourself reading their books, listening to their music or the things that influenced their lives? What have you learned? This journey can be so very hard, but it is even harder to bear alone. I believe we are in this together. None of us are alone, because we have each other. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *
Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief

** Roberta Bondi

*** Julian of Norwich

Peace, Love and Grief… Life with a purpose

Hey Beautiful,
… I’ve spent 10 years living day by day just knowing you were out there somewhere and knowing that somewhere, somehow we would meet. I tried not to think about it. I was just trying to be a good dad and give <my daughter> what she needed. I really believe God has a plan and I was just going to have faith and let it happen. Now it’s happened and I thank God and can’t wait to see you again. You’ve given me a fresh outlook on life and I have a purpose again. Thank you!

I love you so much!
Bruce, March, 2005

Life with a purpose… isn’t that what we are all looking for in some way? I remember when Bruce wrote this letter to me. He said I gave him a purpose, but I can tell you without a doubt, he gave my life purpose, as well. When he died, I was so confused… so lost. I couldn’t understand why I was still here, and he was gone. The first year without him, I felt as if I no longer had a purpose. Surviving day to day seemed to be the only purpose I could find… at first.

As that first year drew to a close, I began to realize that I was still here for a reason. It was going to be up to me to figure out that reason and find a new focus. That next year, I focused on my own healing – emotionally and spiritually. Don’t get me wrong, I think this is one of those “on-going, for-the-rest-of-your-life” kind of things. But what I did learn that year was our purpose is always evolving. We should not expect it to remain the same year to year or possibly even day to day.

Our purpose is “for a season” – a season of life… and then, it evolves into something else… something new and different. Sometimes that change may be so subtle, we can’t even pinpoint when it actually changed. Then, there are other times (like Bruce’s death), when the change is so sudden and severe, it leaves us reeling and struggling to breathe.

The following year, I felt drawn to start this blog. My purpose was (and is) to tell the true story of dealing with loss. I wanted to tell the whole story – the good and the bad, the celebrations and the struggles, the highs and the lows… I wanted to write about the realities of being the one left behind after a loss.

Why?

Partly because I can write what I can’t say. When Bruce passed away, I had a very quick “reality check.” I learned that we (as a society) have let Hollywood dictate our opinions about loss and grief – how is to be experienced and what we should say to one another for comfort. Then, (according to Hollywood) we are all supposed to forget it, move on and “live happily ever after.”

But that is a myth; it isn’t the reality. I guess I felt my purpose has been to point that out… to let others dealing with loss know they aren’t alone. When I started, I decided that even if it only helped one person, that would make it worthwhile in my book. While I know it has made some people uncomfortable, according to the messages I receive, it has made many more people feel validated in their own experiences… so this blog is a worthwhile purpose “for this season.”

However, while I write honestly about my feelings and experiences here, I know my grief is “old news” to those closest to me. Therefore in my everyday life, I don’t usually talk about this stuff anymore… If I really need to talk to someone, I will. But generally, I try to ensure it is a rare conversation.

Which brings up another “why?” Because, while I want to help others going through similar experiences, I don’t want my whole life to be focused on the frustrations of loss. I want to live a “normal” life. Plus, I have learned that what I focus on in life will expand… and I don’t need any more sadness or frustration in my life.

For example, I found myself struggling this week as this holiday weekend approached. For me, Easter is more than a religious celebration… It is a family celebration of life. However, I knew that I would be alone, and loneliness is a huge issue for me, as it is with most widows and widowers (even years later). Since I have a hard time expressing that, no one around me knew. So, as I found myself focusing on the “alone” piece, the “pity party” started in my head.

However, about mid-week I made a choice. I decided to change my focus from “alone” and redirect it in a positive way. I couldn’t change the “alone” factor, but I could make my time alone positive and productive. So… I completely “unplugged” this weekend. I started on Friday evening, and have spent the last 2 days enjoying a quiet, spiritual retreat weekend. It has been beautiful… and definitely much better than feeling sorry for myself.

This year, while I am still writing this blog (and will continue until it no longer serves a purpose), I can feel my day-to-day purpose shifting. My current focus seems to be around spiritual growth. For what? I have no idea, but I have definitely been drawn in that direction… And I am willing to follow this path and remain open to new ideas and experiences in my life.

In some ways, I feel I am following Bruce’s lead. His calm, steady, quiet faith was unshakable. I always loved to hear him tell how he knew I was “out there somewhere” and we would meet when it was time.

From the time we met until the night he died, he wore an anchor on a chain around his neck. A simple, silver anchor – the symbol of hope. He used to say that it symbolized his hope and his faith all those years as he waited for us to find each other. He would talk about being lonely for years, but how he never gave up hope or settled for something less than what he knew was right.

Now I wear that that chain with the anchor (and our wedding bands). It is my reminder that life always offers hope… and that is where I need to focus.

What about you? Do you ever struggle with why you are still here and your loved one is not? Would you be willing to share your story or your thoughts?

Please do… This is our community. To share your thoughts and experiences go to the comments and leave your message.*

This is a weekly blog, for daily affirmations we have a Facebook page of the same name. Join us daily at www.facebook.com/peaceloveandgrief