One Year

After a lovely day of walking around the Pt. Defiance Zoo and even indulging in a hot dog and waffle fries afterwards, sitting outside in the cooler evening air, we finally walked in the door of our home around 9:00 p.m.  The feel and smells of the air assaulted me with remembrances of last summer when we lost Tim.  I was shaken.   A week from now it will have been one year.

I didn't like the feeling and walked outside to check the mail.  But the awareness walked with me, and I realized I have just added to my life one whole year of memories, sweet, beautiful and rich, but all without Tim.  I began to tell Rosie about it, who was by my side, and she immediately put the four kids cups we got at the Zoo Plaza onto the ground and hugged me.

But the realizations weren't done sinking in.  It wasn't just that I had a whole new set of memories, experiences, times, without Tim.  It was that I would never have any more memories, experiences or times with him.

This is different than the sharp devastation of last summer.  That was overwhelming, and busy, and all encompassing.  But this, this is deeper.  It has no shock to cushion it, no immediate hive of activity to fill your time with.  It is a settling of the reality, relentless, that we are going on with life, without Tim.

It is sad.

Don't worry.  Sad is not a bad thing.  I'm not scared of being sad.  It's a precious thing to be sad.  It confirms that something mattered, that there was a value, appreciation, or love connected to it. Feeling sad about going on with my life without Tim is sweet.

Since last July, I have...

cut my long hair off.
gone camping at Lake Kachess.

gone to a rodeo.
walked the beaches of Ocean Shores.
made a couple tree care sales.
made new friends.
made deeper connections with old friends.
gone to the symphony several times.
attended a beautiful wedding.
participated in a healthy community of faith.
started to build my own lego creations.
updated my CPR training.
taken responsibility for the management of our two vehicles.  (Augh!!)
made costumes for the kids for Halloween.

celebrated Isaiah's 11th birthday.
finished watching Downton Abbey and Royal Pains.
mowed the lawn, again, and again.
hosted Thanksgiving at my house.
cut down the Christmas tree.
celebrated Christmas.

started an online bookkeeping course.
taught Isaiah how to ride a bike.
turned another year older.
sold Tim's desk.
celebrated Joshua's 14th birthday.
sat by Joshua's side in the hospital for 18 days.
colored Easter eggs.
seen The Secret Garden at the 5th Avenue.

sold Tim's Blazer.
watched three new Marvel Universe movies.
planted strawberries, kale, raspberries, and a memorial willow tree in our yard.

discovered a new watering hole for the Brotman's in our neck of the woods.
went on a bike trip with my kids.
celebrated Rosie's 17th birthday, and
visited Spokane, to name a few.

All without Tim.

But never without my heavenly Father.  And never without hope.  And always with gratefulness for His lovingkindness and wisdom that He gives so freely to me.

A lot can happen in one year.

Well, Who Knows?

My sweet girl and I just figured out how to set up our own google accounts, so posting blogs using our own photos from our own phone cameras, should be a lot easier now.

And who knows?  Maybe I'll actually be able to write some posts on this here blog I started, what, two years ago??

This is me, tree lover.

Me with my kids and my friend at Deep Lake.

Me being hugged by my kids and mom-in-love Patsy after scattering Tim's ashes.  Wow.

 
The first thing I want to say is, grieving is hard.  I don't like it, or as the little boy of Captain America actor says, "I don't wike it!"  Since my Baber passed away suddenly almost three months ago, life has been, well, different.  It's like I miss him, yes, but I also have a hard time finding myself.  Who am I now?  I know I'm God's child, I'm a mom, I like to read, watch movies, play games, go hiking...I know all those things haven't changed.  But still, being married is something I've been my whole adult life, since age 23 anyways, and I feel strangely disconnected from my world now that Tim is dead.  I know he is gone, but I don't feel like he is gone.  I still feel married, like he's just gone, but will be back any day.  That obvious untruth leaves me feeling rather alone.

But I am so thankful to the Lord.  I don't know all the reasons why Tim died when he did.  But I do know that it is teaching me so many things.  And one of them is to redefine who I am.  Or maybe a better way to say it is to reaffirm who I really am, and have been, married or not.  I think we all get accustomed to things being a certain way, job, house, routine, etc, so that we can grow comfortable in that certain way, and those things become our boundary, our settings, our circumference.  But in reality, who we are married to, who our kids are, where we live, how we make our income, none of these things are who we are.  They are a part of our lives, but they are not our life. 

I have been drawing closer to the Lord for the last four years in a real and vibrant way that I had not experienced all my life prior to 2012.  But these last three months?  It's showing me how much I still kept God on the side, looking rather to so much of my life's circumstances instead for stability.  Now, I have the chance to look to the Lord even more, and for that I am so thankful.  It is an answer to the cry of my heart, really, to walk more closely with Him and to please Him with a grateful and full of faith heart.  Losing Tim is helping me do that. 

I'm not trying to be morbid here and say that loosing my husband was a good thing!  But I am trying to acknowledge what God is doing in me and helping me with in this, dare I say it, adventure of grief. 

Post Juice Fast

We juiced for ten days, but only fasted for the first five.  Both our doctors put the skids on it when they realized we weren't eating fats or proteins.  We couldn't afford to buy that much produce any longer anyways.  And the juicing schedule was killing my ability to be a mom, as in being able to take time to help with problems and deal with the difficulties of day to day life.  So, while it was shorter than we had planned, it ended up being just the right amount of time for us in our current life situation.  But it was a positive experience in that we got a lot of micronutrients in us, gave us a window of time to focus on what we are eating and how much we are eating, and I did loose 7 pounds.  In conclusion, I believe the best we can do for our bodies, and in terms of physical consequences, our health and our "being there" for our families, is to eat the right kinds of foods, not too much, and get lots of exercise.  Learn what food is, something I've been doing for the last three years, once my teenage daughter proclaimed she was a vegetarian, thus creating a crisis for me (!), figure out the recipes that work for you and your family's needs, start thinking: "It's time to make a run for next week's ingredients..." (instead of shopping for packaged meals), and do the work of working out!

This is Tim and I, on Mother's Day, two weeks after our fast.

Juice Fast, Day One

Just finished day one of our juice fast. 

Here we are, day one of our juice fast.

I didn't like it. 

I don't like the feeling of weakness that comes from not ingesting protein and fats.  I don't like not getting to share food with my children, throwing the celebratory factor off keel.  If this fast does nothing else, it will at least affirm those two blessings:  the strength that comes from eating protein/fats and celebrating life's joys and victories over difficulties with food that is shared with your family.  As an example, today:  Rosie had a cavity filled.  It was a big deal, that nervousness ahead of time, the waiting in the chair, and coping with the fear of the needle.  But then came the relief...it was over!  And she was stronger for it!  Joshua also had his first ever cavity filled.  His apprehensions expressed themselves more forcefully, however, as he endured shivers the whole way through the procedure.  Tonight at bed, though, he declared, "God has helped me through so many things!"  And not to be outdone, Isaiah, blissfully charging ahead in our Red Light, Green Light family game at the park after the dental appointments were over, suffered a painful bite from our own dog, who was on a leash with Rosie, but too excited by the prospect of so many little people starting and stopping,  That ended the game, but not his indomitable spirit.  So we had many little joys and triumphs to celebrate.  Nevertheless, while the kids snacked on their fun foods from Safeway, Tim and I sipped our Mean Green juices.

On the practical side, I'm really thankful I worked diligently to get as many meals for the kids into the freezer as I did.  This will make our new routine easier.  The kids are looking forward to kosher beef hot dogs tomorrow with already baked homemade buns--one of our favorite and occasional treats.

This is what Rosie thinks about trips

to the dentist!

On the positive side, it really wasn't horrible.  I only felt woozie off and on.  And I have one day under my belt of giving my body a decent chance to get stronger and, to use Joe's words, "reboot itself"!

Isaiah, Pre-Bitten-By-Our-Own-Dog-State

Joshua, still numb but relieved!

"Love One Another"

I just finished Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo.  The first time I was a junior in high school.  I loved it.

Ballard High School...those were the days!

  Aren't I cute?!  That's me, second from the left in the middle!

The second time was fourteen years ago when Blackstone Audio put out an unabridged recording of it, narrated by Frederick Davidson.  I was floored. 

 

God's timing is impeccable, as this third time, again via the downloaded copy I now proudly own of Blackstone Audio's recording, I actually get it. 

Les Miserables is such a universally known and loved story, that you will forgive me "giving away" the ending:  Jean ValJean dies.  You're shocked, I know.  These are the words he spoke on his deathbed to his much cherished Cosette and Marius: 

Love each other dearly always.  There is scarcely anything else in the world but that, to love one another.

And as I said, this time, (third time's a charm, remember?) I get it. 

In high school I loved it because it was lofty and grand and exciting and had the ring of truth I could intuitively hear, though I wouldn't have been able to define it.  Fourteen years ago I was floored because the characters I had come to love in high school were so beautifully and sensitively brought to life by the narrating skills of Frederick Davidson.  But this time, (bear with me while I say it again,) I actually get it.  Not because of Mr. Hugo or Mr. Davidson, but because, through the loving afflictions of the Lord, I have finally learned what love is. 

As a teenager, I thought I knew what love was because I was a "Christian", and "loved" God.  I knew I loved God because I faithfully did all the things good Christian girls were supposed to do:  I went to church Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Tuesday nights for choir and orchestra, Wednesday nights for youth group, Thursday nights for Jr High Bible Study, which I helped lead, occasional Friday night activites, and Saturday night prayer meetings.  I "witnessed" to my friends at high school, read my Bible at home and prayed daily, and holding tightly to the belief that, in doing these things, I was pleasing God.  But wait, there's more!  I obeyed my parents, shunned profanity, substance abuse and sex outside of marriage.  I studied hard, kept my room clean, earned my own spending money and ate dinner with my family.  I espoused myself to the most virtuous ideals, and found great hope in aligning myself with such pure motives.  I did all these things sincerely, from the heart.

Don't get me wrong.  I didn't believe the lie that many "Christian" groups perpetuate that God loved me because I did those things.  I knew my Bible better than that!  I knew God loved me of His own initiative.  But I did those things believing that they would make me good.  How mistaken I was!

By the time I heard the recording of Les Miserables fourteen years ago, I had become a pastor's wife and mother of four beautiful daughters.  I went to church a little less often, seeing as I had more responsibilities with a family, but I pretty much maintained the same values and lifestyle, dragging my homeschooled children along with me.  I knew a little more about love because by then I had dropped the ball on several of my ideals, and had therefore experienced God's forgiveness more intimately.   But doing all those good things was still my default, and I still believed they made me a good person. 

That's my fourth daughter there, third child from the left, in the bring pink stockings!,                   participating in one of the many church activities we joined.

But even as I was listening to Mr. Davidson's heartbreaking rendition of Jean ValJean's deathbed scene, horrible things were happening and had happened to my family.  Some were out of my control, and some were by my control.  But all of them happened because I didn't actually know how to love.  And in not actually loving my children, and in allowing my husband to not actually love our children, I was quite literally breaking their hearts.  Years of pressure to conform to an image of godliness, without the pure, holy oil of true love in our relationships, took their toll on us, and some years back my perfect little world blew up. 

But as I said, God's timing is impeccable, and He was ready, now that I was finally ready, with help and wisdom and revelation.  Through good friends and faithful ministers of God's Word, the Holy Spirit showed me my shallowness and falseness and bankruptcy of spirit.  In my debased state, I was cleansed of my wicked and prideful ways.  Since then, His love has been steadily filling me with courage to get up and learn His ways of love for real.  

So now, when I hear Jean ValJean bless his children with the words, "Love one another, " I get it.  And I am so thankful!