Proverbs 31

“A wife of noble character who can find?  She is worth far more than rubies.  Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.  She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.  She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands.  She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar.  She gets up while it is still dark, she provides food for her family.  She considers a field and buys it, out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.  She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong from her tasks.  She sees that her trading is profitable and her lamp does not go out at night.  In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers.  She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.  When it snows, she has no fear for her household, for all of them are clothed in scarlet.  She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple.  Her husband is respected at the city gate where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.  She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes.  She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.  She speaks with wisdom and faithful instruction is on her tongue.  She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.  Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.  Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.  Give her the reward she has earned and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”  Proverbs 31

I took some time off work this past week to adventure in the beautiful fall mountains with my friend Jared Sandeen.  Jared flew in from Oregon just like last year to spend a week with me.  I have to admit I was a bit nervous about seeing him, simply because he reminds me so much of my past.  His presence seems to catapult me into remembering everything about my time in Oregon with John.

Jared and I spent what felt like 24 hours of hell together on March 9^th.  It was scary, exhausting, and felt completely desperate at the time.  When search and rescue gave up we stayed out there for hours in the rain, just the two of us, searching for him.  I can remember being soaking wet and just driving down washed out road after road screaming for him, honking the horn and waiting quietly for anything.  I can remember having Jared walk me through the last thing he remembered on the river probably 100 times, hoping his story would change or there would be some light bulb that gave us hope.  Each time I would ask, he would walk me through it again with complete patience.  Waiting for the inevitable is probably one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced.  Looking back I am so grateful that Jared was with me during this wait.  He was so calm and stoic, but I know he felt completely desperate inside as well, yet he remained strong for me. 

 I remember fleeing the gorge the moment John was found and wanting to be no where near the rescue scene.  I could not bear the thought or experience of seeing him like that at the time. So, while another good friend drove me quickly out of there, Jared had to do the unthinkable with some other friends and bring John out of that river.  We spent some time talking about this experience over the last week, reliving it to an extent and remembering how far we’ve come both separately and together as friends over the last year.  Neither one of us can seem to get through remembering those 24 hours without heavy tears.  Jared told me that he remembered a moment where he was literally climbing over bushes and falling through them every few feet  while searching for him.  He said he looked up into the gorge at one point just feeling defeated and exhausted..  He said something happened in that moment where he just knew that John was with him and it felt completely peaceful.  He said he knew right then that John was gone but also felt as if he was telling Jared its OK.  Shortly after this moment, Jared found him. 

For as long as I live, I will always remember what Jared and those other kayakers did for John.  I won’t forget what they had to go through, the risk they had to take and how incredibly respectful each of them were about the situation.  They are my hero's and always will be.

Those 24 hours on March 9^th became the start of what I believe is a deep spiritual connection with my friend Jared that has only grown stronger as time has passed.  Jared shares the same love for God that I do and in many ways has been a spiritual leader for me over the past 19 months.  I think when you go through a deep loss, it’s important to have a partner through that pain that shares your spirituality, regardless of what you believe.  For me, that is Christianity with Jared but, I think this is important regardless of any religion.  Jared is not only someone that inspires me through his love for God, but he challenges me to go deeper into my faith through prayer, daily acknowledgement of his presence all around us and to read his words.  I look back over Jared’s place in my life over the last 19 months and it is no coincidence that he was with John before John left this world.  Jared is exactly who was supposed to be there because of the role he’d play in my life. 

We spent time mountain biking some of John’s favorite trails across Virginia, and kayaking his favorite rivers together.  Jared spent time with John’s grand parents, he visited John’s resting place, he made time for John’s closest friends.  He soaked in the impact John had and the people he surrounded himself with and he adventured and prayed with me every day.  It was a great week.  

Jared told me before he left that I am a Proverbs 31 woman and that he felt grateful to be a witness to my life now and where I’ve gone over the last 19 months.  I spent time reading this scripture this morning  as I fly to the mid west for work this week and reflected on our time together. 

I think about so many people as I read this scripture that have lifted me up over the last 19 months.  Those that have challenged me to stand up; embrace the pain but don’t loathe in self-pity; be a strong woman who can stand on her own feet; make independent decisions and honor John by moving forward.  If I am a woman that will ever reflect this scripture, I can promise you it isn’t happening on my strength alone.  It’s people like Jared and so many others that petition for me, lift me up every day and remind me that they didn’t forget.  People like Jared that put their own pain to the side and took on the weight of mine.  With great loss, I think it is important to remember those that are still here that bear my cross with me and take on that burden with me every day.  If I am a Proverbs 31 woman, it is only because of my creator and those he works through to strengthen me.  God is so good.

So with that I will say thank you Jared for your incredible friendship and faith in me.  I know we will laugh together at the days to come, into old age, into eternity where our good friend John awaits us with another great adventure. 

It's OK.

“I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart, for I have overcome the world.”  Matthew 16:33

Over the span of the last 19 months, there have been a few people that have come to me with a dream they experienced with John.  As crazy as it may sound, it seems like when I have a tough few days or weeks where my emotions are shot, John pays a visit to a good friend.    

I’ve never been a woman that is comfortable showing tears to others.  I’ve always been pretty private with this kind of thing.  There are quite a few places I travel during the work week for hours with no service, so it becomes my time alone with my thoughts.  I think anyone that has lost someone significant will tell you that a lot of thinking time can lead to a break down.  This is when I find myself letting everything out.  Distraction is everything when it comes to loss, so when all I have are my thoughts, everything surfaces.  

The last two weeks have felt heavier than usual.  Maybe it’s another beautiful fall in the mountains, another Gauley season, a promotion, watching the progress of my house move forward?  Maybe it is simply more change and decision making without him.  Oddly enough, within the last week, I’ve had two friends come to me with a dream experience that left both of them in tears.  

I have been lucky enough to have one truly vivid dream of John since his passing.  I have never experienced anything like it before or since that one dream, but going through this left me wanting so much more, for it seemed so real.  In my dream, John and I were able to speak and touch.  He told me how sorry he was for leaving me too soon, but that he was needed by God and had much to accomplish.  He assured me he could hear my thoughts and would watch over me.  He promised he would come visit every now and then.  He told me to go forward.  I remember he was glowing.  I remember his smile.  It was so obvious to me during this time with him that he was at peace, that he had a purpose.  I will never forget it.

There have been six individuals that I know of that experienced an encounter with John in their own dreams over the last 19 months, all at different times.  All six described their experience to me as the most vivid dream they had ever had.  I thought about each story while driving today and wanted to share their time with him.  

My mom spent time with John by the river.  Throughout her experience she told John what had happened, and the pain I was going through, how she was worried.  I was in this dream with her, about 100 yards behind John walking along the river banks.  She described John as beautiful and full of light, with a huge smile on his face.  She said he looked perfect.  He continued to look at her as she talked and simply said over and over, “it's ok, it's ok, everything is ok." She said while I was down the river, he continued to gaze over at me and just smile, reassuring her that all was ok.  

My sister spent time with John in the sky.  She flew over mountains and rivers with him.  She said she had never seen colors like these before and while she couldn’t see John, she knew in this dream that she was seeing the world from his view point and it felt incredible.  

My friend Harrison ran into John outside of a jazz bar.  Harrison had so many questions for John about what happened to him on the river, asking what caused him to drown.   Harrison said John was glowing with a huge radiant smile on his face.  He said while no words were spoken, John just continued to smile at Harrison and simply faded away.

My friend Paula was on a walk in her dream and saw a rainbow appear in the sky.  In that rainbow she saw John’s smile and heard the sounds of jazz funk music.  

My friend Scott (who has never met John), found himself collecting fire wood with John.   He said it was as if John and I had never been apart, and we both seemed so happy.  He said that during this dream, he realized that he was speaking with John’s spirit for his physical presence was gone.  He said while this made him feel sad, it was so clear that both of us were happy and at peace, as if no time had passed at all. 

My friend Sarah experienced John at her house.  She said he was just the way he had always been; sarcastic, thoughtful and hilarious.  She said her 2 year old Henry got to meet John in this dream.  She said John was helping me get rid of things, explaining what I needed to let go of, what should be given away. She said John and I laughed and laughed until we cried. 

I have to tell you friends, when I have those tougher weeks where I feel weary and burdened, I look back to the experiences these individuals have had with my husband, and things simply feel lighter.  Through these dreams, I feel as if I can see a bigger picture well beyond what is happening right now.  I can tell you that these individuals who have found John in their dreams have been a huge support to me throughout my loss.   I'd like to believe that John checks in from time to time, just as he said he would. 

“Your laugh is what I am holding onto from that dream, and his face.  You were laughing the way that you used to with him.  Belly laughs, holding your stomach, can’t stand up straight.”  Sarah Fought

I am so grateful to the individuals that have had an experience with John and took the time to tell me about it.  I find each experience so incredible and touching.  I believe these experiences through each dream are a reflection of God’s love for these individuals, for John, for me.  A reminder of what is to come, and that it's ok. 

To A Wise Woman, Thank You.

"When I lay these questions before God, I get no answer.  But a rather special sort of 'No answer.'  It is not the locked door.  It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze.  As though He shook his head not in refusal but waiving the question.  Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.'"  C.S. Lewis

I was on the phone with John's grand mother the other day while traveling for work down 1-77 through the mountains of Virginia.  I usually catch up with her once every few weeks and see how her and Jack are doing.  John adored his grandparents.  He always thought his grand mother was a classy lady that worked hard for her family and was always so kind to him.  Ellen was always so nice to me when John introduced me to his family and always made me feel so welcome.  Unfortunately, it wasn't really until John died that I became very close with his grand mother.  In fact, I would say for a long time I became very reliant on her support.  This woman checked in on me constantly and made it clear from day one that I would always be a grand daughter to them, always welcome in their home and they would always be here for me.  I am not sure I will ever be able to describe just how much that meant to me and how much that support from Ellen carried me through that first year.

During the first year of losing John, my parents were going through a tough divorce after 33 years of marriage to each other that exhausted both of them and my siblings.  I also lost all contact with my mother-in-law who I thought of like a mom and friend before John died.  There were multiple shifts in family dynamics that I did not want, yet had to accept, and John was no longer here to help me through these transitions.  I can remember feeling almost a sense of fear at times at these changes I had no control over.  Through all of that though, Ellen checked in on me almost every single day during those beginning months.  

She said something to me on the phone the other day that stunned me.  I was telling her how all of John's closest friends were coming to visit me in Fayetteville that weekend and kayak together, explaining yet another tradition and routine I was upholding in order to honor him.  After I explained my upcoming weekend she said to me, "Erin, you have got to move on, you have got to let go and live your life.  I pray to God everyday that you will."  I felt tongue tied when she said this to me, a loss of words or explanation.  I felt an instant lump in my throat, almost as if I wanted to protest and defend my choices to her.  Instead, I listened to her respectfully, told her I loved her as always, and then we hung up.  After this conversation I drove in silence for a while thinking about what she had said, repeating her words over and over again in my head.  "You have got to move on, you have to let go." 

I thought so much about what she said over the next few days.  While hiking with Jake one evening,  I continued to hear her words over and over again, and it became really clear to me.  That feeling you get when your junk catches up to you, you have no where to run, and no choice but to face it.  I have been living my life for two people over the last year and a half.  For myself, and for John, and it is exhausting. 

"I see people as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they'll say something about it, or not.  I hate if they do, and if they don't."  C.S. Lewis

I believe that when you lose a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, you lose dreams, plans, memories, the future.  You lose the person you would have been and all things you would have done.  You lose who you were when they were here.  So, you are not only grieving the loss of that person, you are grieving the loss of everything that created that life with them.  I believe that alone is what is so sad and so difficult to face, the reality that you yourself are no more, and the future ahead of you includes a different person that your loved one may not have known.  On the other hand, you have a choice to embrace this new perspective and hopefully move forward.   Sadly, I have a feeling that many do not, they chose their bubble of grief and the comfort of their past.  The problem is, you take on the life and existence of someone who is gone, upholding everything you can to carry them forward.  That is why it pains you to be reminded of them from others and it pains you when they don't.  You carry it all the time and it is simply exhausting.   This is the cross road I have found myself at with Ellen's words.

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."  C.S. Lewis

I believe that I've been living a life for both myself and John since his death, because I don't want others to forget him.  The thought of John forgotten instills a fear in me that is not pleasant.  From the day he died I felt an urgent need to carry his memory forward, to be his voice and presence for others.  He is still so ingrained in my heart, I believe I hold him there so that other's will not forget.  I even find myself talking about him in the present at times with our closet friends and family, as if he is just away.  I believe it is almost easier to carry on this way at times because it prolongs the journey I must take without him.  It allows him to have that space in my heart that I can't seem to give to anyone else.  When I focus on his memory and his love with friends and family, upholding events and traditions that look to him, it keeps my mind so busy that I don't have to feel that deep ache in my chest that can feel unbearable at times.  So instead, I live a life for two, referring to him all the time, like things used to be.

This way of living is not sustainable, it is not healthy.  Eventually, your junk does catch up to you, and sometimes it takes a wise woman like my husband's grand mother to call me out and leave me speechless because she's right.  

So the question I am left with is,how?  What does the future look like?  How do you keep them close to your heart, but also move beyond them?  I believe that is the choice everyone must make at some point when they lose someone, and it is not a choice for the faint of heart.  Maybe to truly honor those that go before us, is to move beyond them, to let go and live your life.  For that choice is the harder path to take, but I have a feeling it is so much more rewarding in the end.  I am starting to understand that by making that harder choice, you uphold their memory in the best light, the best way, with incredible honor.  They are not forgotten. 

I know that I am going to love someone again one day.  I believe that I will give someone my heart again the way I gave it away to him.  I can feel it in the depths of my being, I can feel it coming.  I think for now though, God is asking me to look ahead, to move forward, let go and start living my life for one, so I can one day live it for two again.  I am so grateful to John's wise grand mother for calling me on my junk.  I believe her words are saving me from an unsustainable life style, from prolonged pain.  I know John would be so proud of her for being the bold, wise woman that she is.  Thank you Ellen.  

Breathe Life to this Dream

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life.  And see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."  Thoreau

I recently just finished reading a book written by a woman named Marie Kondo.  "The Life-changing  magic of tidying up-the Japanese art of decluttering."  My best friend Sarah Fought read this same book shortly after John passed.   I stay with Sarah, her husband Ricky and their 2-year old Henry Hollis whenever I work in Richmond.  Each time I've stayed with them, their house seems to become  more and more transformed.  I would describe it as lighter, purposeful, as if you were on vacation somewhere.  I told Sarah the last time I was there that her house feels just "zen" to me, as if I’m going to yoga or a massage. My room that I stay in at the Foughts always has a lovely arrangement of flowers from their yard, a comfortable bed and fresh towels.  These are the only things there awaiting me, no piles, furniture, nothing.  It's so simple.  It is now this place of total relaxation whenever I have a busy work week.  Everything in the Fought's house is a reflection of the things their family loves.  I've enjoyed watching this transformation for her and her family as a spectator, and I’ve really enjoyed watching the happiness it’s brought Sarah from a personal transformation.

 I've known Sarah for 13 years now, she is my soul mate.  After watching her go through this transition, I felt intrigued to pick up the book for myself this summer and see what the Konmari Method is really all about.

 After losing John, it became very clear that his physical possessions remained with me and our house.  I was left with many belongings that once served a purpose in our lives, yet now suddenly seemed lost to me.  The same smells, textures and sounds all still there, but with no physical presence of him.  I remember feeling surrounded by what felt like a ghost, a very heavy ghost.  A closet of clothes, electric shaver, work boots, a motor cycle, kayaks, mountain bikes, a tool shop, a car, a motor cycle, pictures, mini-projects half done and more.  I think the most painful part about those possessions were the smells.  I could bury my face in his shirts, or his bike helmet  and immediately feel as if I was resting against his chest and running my hands through his hair.  Those smells were like electric jolts to my heart.  It’s hard to even write about this.  My heart ached for those small recognitions of a life once real.

When I moved back to the east coast, I allowed the majority of these items to come with me.  I became a master of storage organization and placed the majority of his belongings in my basement in Fayetteville with the help of some incredible friends.  I even had our good friend Harrison unpack John’s clothes into the guest bedroom closet as if he was returning.  I know it sounds crazy reading it now, but this felt normal to me at the time.  I couldn’t accept a house with only my things, so I unpacked his as they were when we lived in Oregon.

I will tell you that as time has passed, I have slowly transformed my house and made it my own, but I can’t say that I’ve truly dealt with these things.  I’ve simply removed them from my sight down to the basement, and in some cases I’ve given things to friends or family, but not much.

I made the choice to test my heart last weekend and invited two friends that are bike mechanics in town to come over. John was in the middle of two bike projects when he died.  After reading Marie Kondo’s book, I decided  that I’d like to finish those projects and release these bikes that were once his to some of his closest friends who would love to ride them.  We pulled out two large totes of bike parts that I had carefully packaged up when I moved.  I hadn’t pulled any of them out since arriving to Fayetteville last summer.  I opened the boxes to show my friends the inventory I had.  I ran my hands over each item, removing it from the box and displaying it on the floor for my friends to observe.  I felt a blast of memories as I acknowledged these items.  So many nights of finding him in the garage working on a bike, totally content and happy.  I thought about all of our times mountain biking together and how much fun it was to watch him climb over huge boulders with his Santa Cruz and fly through every down hill with Jake galloping behind. My heart ached for a moment as I pictured him, but through the acknowledgement of these memories,  something really awesome started to happen.  I watched my friends begin to bring all the parts together that would allow this bike to be put back together.  They carefully handled each part, and before I knew it I watched them drive away with John’s bike.  In a few weeks, this project that John started will be completed.  I felt lighter as I watched this happen, I felt joy.  As if John was thanking me himself, as if the bike was thanking me for the purpose it would now serve.

The KonMari Method is about taking the time to truly acknowledge the things that you own and asking yourself a simple question.  “Does this spark joy?”  This method encourages the concept that we as humans truly do not need that much.  Allowing yourself to only own belongings that spark joy and serve a true purpose in your life, not only transforms your house, but it transforms your life through rediscovering who you are and the life you truly want to have.  For those items that don’t make the cut, you acknowledge them, you thank them for the purpose they once served, and you send them on a new journey.

"From the moment you start tidying, you will be compelled to reset your life.  As a result, your life will start to change.  The true goal should be to establish the lifestyle you want most once your house has been put in order."  Marie Kondo

The day of my wedding anniversary this past July, I sat quietly in my living room that morning and allowed myself to really consider a future without my husband for the first time.  I believe as a widow, you really start to come to this realization during the second year of grief  that this truly is your reality, they really are not coming back and you need to make some choices for yourself  and grab life by the balls.  What did I want my life to look like and how did I picture my life to come?    I’ve been surrounded by his things and OUR things for over a year now since his death, and I’ve continued to consider him when I think of decisions going forward.  Maybe because I still feel him everywhere.  “What would John do?”  When you are married, there really aren’t that many decisions that are independent from your spouse, at least not big ones.  I almost feel as if I’ve carried this concept forward even with him gone because I don’t have to really face my reality by considering him.

I thought about what my life has looked like since 3/9/14 and where my heart is in comparison to my brain.  I closed my eyes and allowed myself to  picture my life without him and what it may look like if I’m following my heart.  I saw the mountains, I saw the woods, I heard the river, I heard children laughing, I felt the silence, I heard the choir singing, I felt the drive for a career,  I felt new love that is different and still just as lovely.  I pictured a beautiful life. I have been praying for over a year now for an open heart, clarity, direction, new perspective.  But-I’m not sure if I’ve truly allowed myself to picture what that may look like, for that picture does not include John, another jolt to my heart.

“The question of what you want to own is actually the question of how you want to live your life.”  Marie Kondo

It’s time to breathe life into some of these dreams.  I believe that life starts with the woods and creating a place of zen for myself.  I decided this past week to purchase an acre here in the New River Gorge and build a small cottage that will be nestled among the trees.  My dreams are to build an eco-friendly small foot print home, where I am surrounded by woods, the sounds of the gorge and the trails.  If all goes well, we will start building in October.  I am really looking forward to this project and creating a home from the ground up that is a true reflection of the woman I am.

"Keep only the things that speak to your heart.  Then take the plunge and discard all the rest." Marie Kondo

With this project comes a challenging year of the Konmari Method that I plan to dive into, eyes and heart ahead.  I know in my heart that I can’t move forward with my dreams if I continue to hold on so tightly to my past.  I need to face each item, allow those feelings to surface regardless of the pain, acknowledge each item for what it has done for me and John, and let it go.  I want to move into my new home with only the things that spark joy and purpose in my life and let go of those items that don’t.  I believe it’s important to note that by doing this, I’m not leaving John behind.  I believe John is up ahead, living a new eternal life with new purpose.  Moving beyond his things not only honors him, it honors the woman that I am and the life I still have here.  I believe this choice is crucial to new joy, new life.   I believe practicing the Konmari Method will not only help me face my past, but it paves a way to my future.  For that alone, I am all in, I choose to breathe life into this dream.  

• 

Love Continues to Win

"My lover is mine and I am his.  Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.  All night long, I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him.  I will get up now and go about the city through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves.  So I looked for him but did not find him.  The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.  'Have you seen the one my heart loves?'  Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves.  I held him and would not let him go until I brought him home.  Daughters, do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."  Song of Songs 3:1-5

                                              

I think as a young widow, your wedding anniversary is the hardest mile stone to pass.  Just like last year around this time, I've been in a fairly dark place over the last three weeks, physically reacting to what I think is July 28th.  For an entire week I had a constant headache and would cry at a mere butterfly landing on my front porch.  Everything has made me think of him, continuing to ponder an unknown and disappeared future that was at one time real.  I know it sounds unproductive, but my mind goes to these places, especially during mile stones.  I have found this date to be harder than any other date.  His birthday, Christmas, even March 9th.  July 28th was the most remarkable day of my life, for it was the day I chose my family and committed my heart to John Duncan Wilburn.  It was the day a new life began, and I was excited.

The loss of John is different to so many people and milestones are different for each of them.  I would imagine for his parents it may be the day he was born and they held him for the first time.  For his grandparents I think it may be his time at Virginia Tech or the time they took him to Disney World as a young boy.  For his kayaking friends, it may be Gauley season, or every time they take a lap down the James.  For his co-workers it may the day he planted his trees.  His death even impacts many that never met him, but truly wish they had.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of how much this loss affects everyone, and how the pain is unique and significant for each person.

I'm finding this year to be a state of limbo, as if I am frozen in time.  I wouldn't say it is worse than 2014, it's simply different.   I'm at this place where I so want to move forward and feel things again, yet I am still so wrapped up in my love, as if he is returning.  I get tired of my pain at times, tired of the solitude. I watch so many close friends continue in their marriages, plan for families, find new experiences together, yet I feel frozen in this other place watching.  I can remember what that life was like, but I am not a part of that anymore which feels strange.  It's as if my brain and my heart can't find each other.  They are not on the same page.  I understand the facts of my reality and what this means for my future, yet my heart feels as if it is grasped around John's heart so tightly, begging for his return.  I can't seem to fully let go and I'm starting to wonder if that is even possible.  If that is the case, how does one create a new space for new love when their heart feels bound to someone else?  I haven't figured this one out yet.

 I let a good friend wrap his strong arms around me for the first time in 16 months.  I let him run his hands through my hair, I let him touch my face, I let him hold me close to his chest.  I let myself touch him back and wrap my arms around him, holding him close.  I've never let anyone do that since John.  I feel as if I've had cement walls around me since his death, afraid to consider anyone beyond him.  I wanted to remember how it felt to simply be touched and held again.  I wanted to feel something, anything.  It was beautiful and heart breaking at the same time.  To know I could allow myself to go there, yet to also know these strong arms and steady heart beat  wrapped all around me don't belong to John left me in limbo.  I felt alive and dead at the same time.  I wanted to laugh and cry in unison.  I wanted to scream and beat my arms against his chest in protest, yet hold my friend close and remember I'm alive through his touch.  This space is strange and confusing, exciting and devastating, wonderful and empty, all at the same time.

I went to church this past Sunday in Fayetteville.  I've been feeling a strong urge to go lately, so I decided to try out this small Methodist church in down town.   As soon as I walked through the doors I had people approaching me and welcoming me to the service.  I've never been greeted in a church so warmly as I was here.  Even the pastor came down from the pulpit, walked right up to my pew and greeted me.  I felt completely at peace in a crowd of strangers, as if I was home.  The pastor spoke about the importance of creating a space of rest.  She talked about the need for us to be OK with quietness and allowing yourself to pause in prayer, allowing the holy spirit to speak to you.  By going to those places of rest and solitude, we are better prepared to serve our purpose here on earth and help those around us, love those around us.  Jesus did this in order to heal others and encouraged his disciples to do the same.  We become our best selves through the art of meditation, silence and rest.  

I've been thinking a lot lately about this chapter of life I've found myself in over the last few months.  Why am I in this place of  limbo as I pass this mile stone?  Listening to this message this past Sunday quietly, I felt as if God was speaking directly to my heart.  I believe I am in this place of  stillness so I can fully become aware of God's presence in my life and his continuous grace.  I believe he needs my attention, my time, my awareness of his light in my heart so that I can help others, love others, and better serve his purpose for me, whatever that may be.  It is through this silence that I am discovering this new woman in me.

  I wrote about what it means to me to be a Christian to a good friend a few weeks ago.  This was the first time I've ever tried to explain my faith to someone.  I found myself having a similar conversation with one of my closest friends on our way back from the river the other day.   To be completely honest, I am hesitant at times to tell others of my Christianity, simply because there are so many "Christians"  that have corrupted God's love for our world.  Threats of hell, constant reminders of our brokenness, and this arrogance that everyone else is wrong.  It's gross and disappointing.  I've wondered lately if I'm a mixture of Christian and Buddhist.  I believe all spirituality is important when  it drives us to love ourselves and each other.  I read some scripture before the service started on Sunday and found my hands resting on this verse as I flipped through the pages.

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice.  And his peace will be with you."  Philippians 4:8

What I said to both of these people I care about is this. It is so hard to try and explain to someone that what I believe in  I can't see or prove to you, yet I feel completely confident in it's truth through my heart.  I have no facts to back up my faith.  All I can tell you is that my heart feels completely warm in the midst of complete pain.  I feel lighter, I feel carried and protected, I feel incredible love for something big in my heart that is growing.  I believe that suffering is a part of the human experience that everyone will go through at some point, more than once.  I believe joy is also a part of this.  I believe how we walk through those experiences shapes our spirit. and determines our future.  I believe God can do things beyond our imagination if we simply trust him not just in joy, but in our darkest moments.  I feel as if I am heading home some day, to a place I have always belonged where there is no pain, no sickness, but complete peace and light.  A place where the unseen becomes seen.   I believe my time here now is meant to make a difference through love that I believe comes from the grace of my creator.  I believe the warmth in my heart is a small glimpse of what is to come.  This choice to believe God comes from a place I cannot see, I can only feel and trust.

My wedding day and my marriage to my sweet John was lovely.  It was true.  It was noble.  It was praiseworthy.  I believe that regardless of how short ours was, I had a wonderful man that chose me as I chose him.  We found each other in this chaotic world  that we live in.  To give your heart to another person the way you do on your wedding day is precious.  I hope all those that are married and reading this, those that are considering marriage and are reading this, remember how incredible that gift is, how fragile life can be, and chose to reflect on the lovely things always, allow love to win.  I have learned that nothing is permanent, and the flesh will fail us at some point.  Yet, to think of those lovely things, to chose gratitude for that love and reflect on that season of joy opens up the door to God's peace and complete grace through pain.  

So I will continue through this chapter of limbo as I pass this mile stone.  I will continue to seek my resting place and solitude among the mountains and allow God to unfold my heart, shape and mold me.  I believe so much of my life to come depends on this time right now, this chapter.  I believe love will come again when it so desires, not a minute early or late.  While I look forward to that day, I feel eager to know my creator more, to understand my purpose and how deep this relationship with God can go, to love my friendships and family, to love the woman I am becoming.  I'll allow love to continue to win.

Rise with the Sun

If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me."  Psalm 139:9-10

I had the opportunity to spend this past week at Topsail Beach, NC with my sisters, my brother Luke and Melissa.  We rented a lovely cottage beach house called "Pleasant Views" where we had views of both the bay and the ocean.  It is the one week out of my entire year where I literally make no plans, and no schedules.

This same week last year in 2014, I had just arrived to the east coast after driving my pets across the country away from our home in Oregon.  John's ashes sat beside me the entire way.  When I arrived back east I spent a week in the Outer banks with my family.  That week stirred many different emotions.  I remember just being still so absolutely shocked that I was back on the east coast for good and without John. My heart physically ached that week and I remember just wanting time to stop.  It was also that week that I had the most vivid dream I have ever had about John and many questions I had been asking over and over again to myself were answered.  After that experience, I ended up writing a blog called "A Shift."  I wrote about a series of events I had been through in the last month and the transition back east I was going through.  I read through that blog towards the beginning of this week and thought to myself, "man I was such a mess at that point."  I really was.    Regardless of how bad it was during that time, I was still getting up every morning, still moving and doing everything I could to take steps forward, I just can't remember much of it.  It was definitely a time when the pain was simply numbing and the hours, days, months seemed to all flow together.  I thought about that shift a lot this week and how I was able to move through those days during that time.  I thought a lot this week about my words during that time and what "A Shift" has meant to me over the last 16 months.

This past week, I spent each morning walking on the beach as the sun was rising with my dog Jake.  We would get up a little before 6am and simply walk together.  I am an early riser and always have been.  One thing I have found to be so important throughout the last 16 months is to take time in the mornings to prepare myself for the day, even if it is a stress-free day at the beach.  I believe that the early hours of the morning are a great time to meditate and allow yourself to become present.  To me, being present means being fully aware of the pain, acknowledging it, giving it my full attention, and then turning it over to my creator so the current moment becomes the focus and I can listen.  I spent the mornings walking along the beach and pouring my heart out.  For me, this means speaking to God, but I believe anyone taking the journey can relate to that time of meditation through many different forms.

The ocean to me is a true healing place.  There is something so peaceful about standing among a body of water that is so consistent.  It's as if she understands my pain and my journey, and every day walking along her sandy shores, I felt like her guest, paying a visit to her spectacular images and sounds.  I thought so much about John as I walked with our dog and how to me, he is now a part of this eternal presence and imagery.  These precious moments in the morning felt like our time, and I could feel him with every breath, every step.  It was in those moments where God's love was so powerful and so selfless that I found it hard to speak.  I believe it is him that allows the love John and I felt for each other to shine through so I can remember and smile.

My brother, Luke and I spent some time walking along the shoreline this morning with our dogs.  Luke had recently listened to a special on Ted Talks about how the human mind is constantly wandering, and how more than 50% of your time is spent thinking about anything other than what you are currently doing.  I used to be so terrible about this and constantly stressed about the future.  I knew it drove my husband crazy, it was just how I was wired at the time.  Losing John and walking through this journey of grief has really taught me how to be present and while I am certainly no expert, I am far more present than I used to be.  As a believer in Christ, I have come to understand through what I believe is his voice, that there really is no connection, new learning or new perspective in my past or in an unknown future.  It is right now.  I believe each day in those early morning hours, God equips me for a new day and prepares me for what is ahead.  I believe it is hard to understand that, to truly see that when we are not present which can hinder our healing process.

"Be still and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10

I spent time this week connecting with my siblings and my dear friend Melissa.  Melissa is on a journey of grief as well and being at the beach together I believe was really good for both of us.  We took a walk yesterday and talked about our journey and where life has currently taken us.  Sometimes it can be hard to think that you've truly made progress until you allow yourself to revisit the past.  This week we both revisited the 24 hours that led to the death of our husbands and the events that proceeded after that.  It can be terrifying to go back like that.  I find that my body physically reacts to it, to the trauma.  Regardless, I have found it is important to do this with her as my friend, for it is a clear reminder of again how powerful God can be and where he has taken us.  

This week as I reflected on  my life so far, I found so many things to be grateful for simply by looking into the eyes of my family and dear friend.  I truly am blessed.  We spent so much time laughing until my abs hurt and playing like kids again.  We cooked delicious meals together, gave thanks together.  We were present together.  I really believe that when you have to take a journey through deep grief, remembering and connecting to those that are still here, those that love you is so important.  This scripture came to mind as I thought about my continued purpose here and the love others have shown me through this walk.

"Love me with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.  Of all things, hang onto these two commandments."  Matthew 22:38-40.  

I have come to believe that our purpose here on earth truly is that simple, yet so much of our world is so distant from this.  So damaged.  My journey has allowed me to truly reflect on the people in my life that have loved me selflessly and consider how I want to love others that cross my path.  I have also had the pleasure of meeting new faces that have made profound impacts on my heart since March 9th.  I don't believe any of those connections are of pure coincidence.  I believe it is a continuous reflection of God's love for me and this world.  God's love for John.

I am now 31 years old and have been without my husband's physical presence for almost 16 months now.  If you had told me I'd make it through these last 16 months, 16 months ago, I would have laughed.   25 days from now would have marked three years of marriage to my best friend.  If you had told me that I'd walk through that successfully last year, I would have laughed even harder.  But I am walking with a purpose, with light, with continuous feelings of eternal love that I don't believe I could see in my past life because I wasn't present, I didn't understand.

"No power in the sky above, or the earth below, indeed, nothing in all creation will every be able to separate us from the love of God."  Romans 8:39

John's love for me is so eternal and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about that and give thanks.  Our love is eternal because I truly believe that nothing can separate God's love from me, and through God, I feel John.  I believe the shift I have gone through over the last 16 months as I journey through this grief has taught me how incredible this love is.  Just like the ocean, this love from my creator is consistent, unfailing and guaranteed.   For that alone I will rise with the sun and start my mornings everyday, living for that love.

For the Silence

"The wind blows wherever it pleases.  You hear it's sounds, but you cannot tell where it comes from, or where it is going.  So it is with everyone born of the spirit."  John 3:8

  Shortly after John's death, any time alone gave me complete anxiety.  The worst part of my day was my drive home from work on interstate 5 and having to walk through my front door, knowing he was not on the other end anymore.  I hated the silence.  When I simply had nothing but my thoughts and the silence of my house, I would completely fall apart.  I would sob until I couldn't breathe, punch things until my knuckles felt numb.  I would sit in each room of our house and just stare at every picture, paint color, article of clothing.  I felt crazy.  The silence felt like an additional death that I had to relive every day, so I did everything to avoid it.  I believe it is why I allowed myself to become so busy with changes and decision making shortly after his death.  I became a master of distraction in order to suppress the pit in my chest.  Those moments of silence were when I realized just how human I was, and my complete lack of control over my pain.  

 It has been interesting how my outlook on solitude and silence has changed over the last 15 months.  This is something that has become a major part of my journey through grief and has begun to help shape the woman I am rediscovering in my heart.  The woman I know John always saw and believed in.  This woman is different.  She has new marks upon her face that tell a story to others.  She wants to listen to others with an open heart, an open mind.  She wants to open her heart again and allow new love in when she's ready.  She wants to spend time walking along the trails, riding through the woods, bursting through the rapids with confidence and respect for the outdoors.  She wants a peaceful life where she can remain present and in tune with herself and others.  She wants to always be aware of how fragile her life is, how fragile John's life was and to honor her time here through adventure, love for herself and others, love for her creator.   She wants to live in the mountains.

It is no secret at this point that I rely completely on my faith in a higher power in order to walk through this pain.  My faith falls completely on a God that I believe exist.  A God I believe loves me unconditionally and loves my husband.  Over the last 15 months, it has been in those moments of complete silence where I believe he has opened my heart and exposed me to a love that is so overwhelming that I feel speechless at times.  I have transformed from being afraid of those moments of silence and solitude to completely needing them for growth and understanding.  My house and the mountains have become my sanctuary for silence and getting to know the woman I am becoming through my creator.

"The mountains will bring peace to the people."  Psalm 72:3

I believe these last few months have been a chapter of solitude for me for a reason.  I feel as if my heart has slowly been transformed and that transformation has allowed me to feel more and more love and gratitude for the people around me.  The silence has allowed me to become a better listener to those that need to speak.  The silence has allowed me to help others that ask for help.  The silence has reminded me to love myself, love others and love this world that we live in.

I've been around people throughout my life that put more energy towards finding reasons to dislike others than finding common ground and searching for the inner light I believe we all have regardless of whether or not we chose to tap into it.  I have been guilty of this myself at times, allowing negativity to play into the dynamic of relationships.  I really regret that.  

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?"  Matthew 7:3-4

What we have here is withering away, and our time here is so temporary, so what we do here in that time matters so much.  How we treat others matters so much.  I believe God has continued to speak to my heart and ask for moments of silence with me so I can feel not only the incredible love he has for me, but the love he has for this world, the love he has for my husband and those that are not with us anymore.  I believe he needs me to understand this deep love he has for me, so I can pour that love out to others and be an advocate for his love.  

I believe that regardless of your beliefs, if you are on a journey of grief, a journey of loss, a walk through pain, taking time each day to allow yourself to be quiet, to breathe, to listen, is so important.  It is in those moments where I believe this universe speaks to us, teaches us new understandings, new perspectives.  These moments allow us to evolve and change.  They allow us to move forward.

Last night I sat on my porch alone for the first time in about a week.  I've been surrounded by company and a busy work schedule for the past week that has been a distraction from these much needed moments that I believe are so crucial.  I was reading Outside Magazine and listening to "First Aid Kit" on Pandora radio.  I can't quite tell you when it happened, but there was a moment during that time on the porch where I felt an overwhelming feeling of love and happiness that brought tears to my eyes.  It was as if God was sitting right beside me with his arm around me, enjoying this moment with me, swaying to the music.  I would imagine God loves First Aid Kit just as I do, they are amazing:)   As I sat there, I thought to myself, I feel so blessed this evening that I am able to sit here alone and content knowing in my heart that John is somewhere incredible right now possibly doing the same thing and thinking of me.  It is like these moments will pass by that if I just pause long enough and let my heart feel it, I imagine and can feel his existence taking place somewhere else, just around the bend.  I believe that in those moments, he too can feel my love, and the mere thought of that alone creates pure joy in my heart.

I am now forever grateful for the silence and always will be.