March Fourth...

Today would have been Steve and my 19th wedding anniversary.  Sadly, today I am remembering and spending this day without Steve.  Thankfully and gratefully Brent came in from Austin to spend the night last night and the day today.  Brooke and the children will join us for a day of being together.

Nineteen years ago today, all of our family's lives were changed for the better because of this amazing marriage.  I wrote a Caring Bridge entry 5 years ago when Steve was early in his cancer treatment.  I thought I would repeat my words here today, I think it is proof that even though life isn't always what we would like it to be we must continue to March Forth and find God's blessings as we walk along life's journey.

Here are my words from 5 years ago.  Little did any of us know the sadness we would face nor the happiness we would encounter in these 5 years.

 March Fourth…

the only day of the year that gives a command.  My friend, Adelle (should know, as this is her birthday) gave us this ‘“sage” bit of wisdom 14 years ago when Steve & I married!
I looked up the definition of march forth: “to walk with a measured tread or walk with determination--from a starting point, forward.”
I believe that Steve & I have following this command in our marriage for the last 14 years.  In a way, it has become our watchword without our even being aware of it.
March Forth--In bringing 2 teenage children into a new marriage with new surroundings, we were a united determined force.  Making sure Brent & Brooke’s lives could be as successful and settled as possible.  At times it took some doing, but I think we helped guide and nurture two pretty terrific people.
March Forth--What fun it was for Steve to be able to retire early.  We made our starting point right here at home and have been fortunate enough to travel so many wonderful places.  We have laughed and played and enjoyed ourselves throughout some of the most beautiful spots in this country & Europe.  During this time we were fortunate enough to design and build a wonderful new home and even had fun during the building process!  Seven years later we consider Jerry Hawkins, our builder, a close friend. 
March Forth--Sadly, there were times when our steps became so heavy, we felt our legs were tied with sandbags and shoes filled with lead as we walked with friends or family through difficult and trying times.  Steve & I certainly walked hand-in-hand, often needing to lean completely on one another as we treaded with determination through the difficult failing health and eventual deaths of 3 of our parents.  I am so thankful we had each other to march through those valleys together.  
March Forth--We really skipped with delight in being a part of the marriage of David & Kim, then Brooke & Jared.  What would Brooke have done without Steve, I mean, “Franc-the-wedding-planner”?  It has been a pleasure to have our family grow with the addition of the children’s spouses.
March Forth--Again, we really danced with joy the day each of the 4 of our grandchildren were born.  Happily we watch their measured determination as they reach new milestones in their little lives.
March Forth--As we celebrate 14 wonderful years!   It sounds trite to say these 14 years have flown by, yet I can’t really remember what life was like without Steve.  We are truly blessed to be celebrating 14 of some of our best years.   And we will continue to march fourth, from this point forward ,with great determination into an unknown future, hand-in-hand with a known God.  We are so thankful that we have each other and each of you to help us as we tread our way through this course of our lives.

March Fourth with love,
Janet 

Judges 5:21 says, ”...Oh my soul, march on, be strong!” 

Exhaustion...

ex·haus·tion noun \ig-ˈzȯs-chən\

: the state of being extremely tired 

: the act of using all of something 

However Webster’s defines it, it can’t be put into the words that describe it.  Everyone  reading this has been there, more than likely more than once in their lifetime, exhausted. 

It’s that weariness that sinks into the marrow of your bones, when at the end of a day, you feel those bones might simply splinter into shards and leave you in a heap of nothingness.  Today I feel completely exhausted.

When I think of other times in my life that I have felt this bone weary fatigue I think of my early days of raising my two toddlers, 20 months apart.  Those were physically tough days, but the joy outweighed the fatigue and too soon those precious little ones are such amazing adults that I stand astonished at the people they have become.

I think of being a single mom of two teenagers.  Working, trying hard to make ends meet every month and at the end of each day I felt scared and exhausted.

My mind then jumps years ahead to the not so recent past ,when Steve’s health was failing.  I was taking care of the house, finances, and most importantly Steve, who by the end of his life was bedridden, and I exhausted.  I pray to never have to be there again.

Today, I’m once again exhausted.  My eyes are heavy, my body sore, tired and leaden. Yet, I feel God nudging me to put these feelings into words before I can go to bed tonight.  I am trying to be obedient of these feelings, so here I am, and the following is what I feel the need to say before I can sleep.

I left for Midland, Texas Saturday morning (Was that just yesterday? Yes it was.) to go to an engagement party for the most precious couple.  It just so happens, I was the one to introduce them to one another as both of their mom's are good friends of mine.  Debbie, Sam’s mom, a long time loyal and true friend from Midland and Susan, Jessie’s mom, an incredible and wonderful friend for the last 18+ years.

I drove the distance from San Antonio to Midland Saturday, with a full list of moving "to-do’s" that were to be put in check for a little over 24 hours.  The trip while short, was so worth it.  I was able to visit with so many friends from my “other” life and I was able to catch up and rehash those years of my 20’s and 30’s.  Wow, that seems like a lifetime ago.

I woke early this morning, Sunday, around 5:00 a.m.  I willed myself to go back to sleep.  I tossed and turned thinking Steve would be so ticked off if he knew I was driving that two-lane highway from Midland to I-10 in the pitch black, but it didn’t work and by 5:45 a.m. I was on the road.

I had my remarkable friends waiting for me when I got home.  Once again, as they have continued to be “on point” since Steve became so sick, here they were again.  Cindy and Dennis Knocke, Martha and Joe Kruger and Carolyn Madrid (whose wonderful husband Chris left this earth not quite 2 years ago) were waiting for me.  Trucks, and SUV’s in tow, the 6 of us loaded up 5 vehicles with boxes labeled “fragile” or “hand carry”.  Those extraordinary friends huffed and puffed and hauled each of those heavy boxes away to my new home. There will never be words for what their love and support, and simply being there,time and again means to me.

It was a tough day.  As they carried each box out of our home it grew more desolate.  I tried to hide my tears but they began to flow like a flood ridden river.  My fatigue and my emotions were cascading over the banks of containment.  I was a mess.

We unloaded and all sat in my new backyard.  Wishing for a beer or glass of cold wine,  (I forgot to move the important stuff) we simply sat, inviting my new normal to take root...oh, these are amazing people and I love them all with all my heart.

Lucy Belle and I came back home after this long day, it was only 3:30 p.m.  Our home was cavernous.  Holes in the wall were all that were left, where prized pieces used to live.  The walls echoed of emptiness as my own voice bounced off the now naked walls and hard wood floors that were once covered with well worn rugs. 

It was a perfect San Antonio evening, I zapped some left-overs and went to eat dinner on the patio.  I sat under a pergola that Steve had built about 12 years ago.  Surrounded by trees and bushes that we had planted (is this ripping your heart out?) all I could think of was, “For what?”

It didn’t help that it is February and everything is dead and brown.  It didn’t help that I was weary beyond weary and feeling about as pitiful as one could get.  Then, I felt that gentle warm stillness settle over me.

I believe with all my heart that God spoke to me in his own very special way.  As I sat, I realized that soon all that is now empty will be remade, fresh and new, that where the holes are now so large and looming, they will soon be covered with another’s treasured pieces.  Rugs will cover the floors and life will fill the house again as it becomes someone else’s home.  Come Spring, our beautiful yard, will again come to life and the bougainvilleas and azaleas will bloom again for someone else to enjoy.  

I felt okay.  I know that this will be a hard week.  I will be leaving a home that Steve and I loved and created and I will be turning a new page.  Like everything else, this empty, dead hollow feeling will be filled with our family and friends and new experiences.  I also know that Steve’s memory, his voice, his very being will always be with each of us who love him so.  It doesn’t matter where we live, but how we live that will pay honor to Steve’s life and his memory.   More than anything, I believe that Steve, too, is remade, fresh, new, blooming and enjoying eternity.

So I think that’s it.  Now I can go to bed, tomorrow and the week ahead are going to be crazy busy, but I’ll rest once everything has a place of it’s own...even me.

Much love,

Janet

Matthew 11:28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” 

Who knew...

If you had asked me 8 months ago what I would have been doing the last few months, who would have ever known what my answer would have been?  Certainly not me!

In the past 7 ½  months since Steve left this earth, I seem to have been one busy person.  I’m not sure I have followed one bit of the advise that is given to a grieving spouse.  You know the sage words of wisdom, “Don’t make any major decisions for at least a year after one’s spouse has passed away.”   Well, I seem to have greatly colored outside the lines in every way possible. Call it scribbling if you wish, but at the moment, each of my decisions has seemed to make perfect sense or at least be justified.  See what you think…

Who knew that I would be the new mother of a 9 year old Wheaton terrier, Lucy Belle?  Lucy B has made me laugh, she has frustrated me with her “sleepy bladder,” her ability to escape a 5 ¼” fence opening when her head is a full 5”, her desire to jump in the car with me, or anyone who happens to drive by so that she can hang her adorable mangy head out of the window while her tail swipes me in the face with each happy wag.  

This darling hunk of hair has given me so much joy since I adopted her in September that nothing she could do would lower my attachment and love for my furry child.  Who knew that in almost 8 months I could spoil a dog rotten to the point that she is now making most of the household rules?

Who knew that almost 8 months ago this home flopping domino effect would have taken place.  Brooke and Jared moved into a new home in November causing me to buy their house early.  I came back from a New York trip in December, to find a telephone message from old neighbors that smoothly enabled me to sell our home with the greatest of ease and begin remodeling my now almost, new home...who knew?

Who knew that I would buy a 1970 Chevy C10 sidestep truck because Steve and I had always talked about owning a truck, a new truck, and yet we never actually bought one, much less a 44 year old truck?

Meet the Dovie Lea

Now on this note, I would like to make a few personal observations.  I realize that in 8 months I have bought a 9 year old rescue dog, sold my wonderful home and bought a 44 year old truck.  I understand this is far from “normal” for a widow, not to mention, I have made trips to Santa Fe, New York and Israel in the last 7 ½ months and am planning a trip to Costa Rica in the Spring...this is simply bazaar behavior.  

I see all of this clearly and realize I’m maybe, a bit out of control.  There are, however, some widows (really hate that word) that might instead of buying said dog, house, truck spend the same amount of money on say a face lift, or perhaps a boob job, or whatever it is women do to try to make themselves feel a little better about their crummy situation.  

Now, don’t get me wrong, whatever it takes to get someone through this ruggedness is fine with me as long as no one gets hurt in the process, I’m not casting stones here.  I’m simply saying that instead of having people come up to me and say, “Wow Janet, you look amazing!”  They might find themselves saying, “There goes that crazy old widow woman driving around in that rattly old truck with her shaggy old dog hanging out the window...What’s up with her?”  Who knew?

Lucy Belle loves The Dovie Lea…she will sit in it for hours

Who knew that to continue the domino effect of house shuffling Brent will soon own his own home in Austin?  How convenient for me!  In all my downsizing I can now hand down all my “stuff” that will not fit into my new home to my children...this way I really don’t have to part with any of my treasures.  Who knew? 

Who knew that life without Steve could continue for me?  There were many days I feared that I couldn’t live without Steve.  How could I ever laugh again?  How could I ever find joy when so much joy had been robbed from me?  How could my life continue?

Harper & Harris with their buddy LB.  Who couldn't find amazing joy here?

Do I wish for my old life back?  In a heart beat, but that is not my call so I have chosen to go with this crazy flow, roll down the windows of my ’70 Chevy, let my 9 year old dog lap in the fresh air and move forward...who knew?

Lucy after 4 hours never budging from this spot

With all my love,

Janet

Esther 4:14 "Who knows but that you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this...?" 

Holes in the wall...

I’ve been taking down all the things that Steve and I have hung on the walls of our home for the past 12 years that we have lived in this house.  Each item I release from the wall, leaves telltale signs of who had hung them, Steve or me.

I can’t really say we had walls full of “art”, as that would be a grave exaggeration.  Instead, what I will say is that we had walls full of eclectic pieces that had meaning to us for one reason or another.  Many of the reasons were, that I found something strangely quirky and thought, “Let’s hang it on the wall!”  Steve would always grimace and question my sanity, but once hung would kindly go on and on about what a cool find it was.  Some examples: an old broken fluglelhorn that Steve had found in a ditch in his younger years.  I found it stashed away in the attic and promptly hung it on the wall.  An old Mexican door that I found at Bazaar Sabado (a benefit for SAMA), I thought Steve was going to clobber me, but in the end, it hung in our dining door and he loved it.  

Steve's Fluglehorn

St Michael Door from Mexico

Other things:  Quilts and hand hooked rungs that Steve cleverly had me stitch heavy industrial velcro on the back and then he staple gunned the rough end of the velcro to the wall and voila, wall hanging, neat and tidy!  An Italian ceramic lion head and sort of bowl that I had had grown up with forever, we hung it and filled it with wax apples...very fun.  Assorted metal pieces, one of a man looking through a telescope, one of the word “Joy”.  This was hung by Steve with great care.  Steve never wanted nails to show, so on this particular metal sign he had attached magnets to the back and then odd little hooks to attach to the tiny nails.  Joy simply floated on our wall!  I could go on and on, but you “get the picture,” right?

My metal man...just because

Garcia blown glass flower

So last night I spent the night taking down most of our wall “art”, and we had a lot.  As I took each piece down I could immediately tell if I had hung them or if Steve had.  I can vividly remember buying something and bringing it home and hoping, okay maybe even praying, that Steve would be playing tennis or golfing so that I could hang the said piece without so much of a “to do.”  

You see, Steve and I were so very different on so many levels.  He was a detail man.  He was driven and purposeful and liked to think and ponder and deliberate before taking action.  I, on the other hand, will just grab a hammer, a handful of nails and start banging away until the said piece seems to stay in place.  Sometimes they did and sometimes they fell flat on the floor, but Steve’s pieces never budged from those walls.

So here I am, Saturday night 7:00 p.m. taking down our wall decor...fun stuff.  It took a few pieces before I started smiling, then got a little teary, remembering so clearly the history of the hanging of the pieces and how we/Steve would calculate hanging them to death.  Steve with molly bolts, levels, tape measures and blue tape in hand and me standing by like a nurse in the OR handing him:  drill, phillips head screwdriver, stud finder, hammer...it was serious business.  

The holes in the wall tell the story.  Steve’s holes are deep and sound.  Mine...well my holes had multiple little holes all around one big hole where I would place a nail and move it, and nail it just a little to the left and stand back and look and remove it again,  and re-nail until the wonky piece would fall out of the wall.  Finally I would wait for Steve to come home so I could admit I had bought yet another weird but wonderful piece of wall paraphernalia, watch him moan and groan and then go through the exasperating task of hanging, only to gratifyingly hear him at the end of each episode say, “Man, that looks really amazing!  Good work Janet.”

Steve's Holes

My holes (for one hanging)

So I spent my Saturday night remembering each of those episodes.  I remembered us getting short with one another. I remember times when I would get mad because Steve didn’t like where I wanted to hang it, I remember things that Steve said were just simply too heavy to hang, in other words, “No.”  

Oh, I would take every one of those seconds back now.  To hear and be able to argue over hanging something stupid. To be able to watch Steve’s incredible mind work as he so easily hung a difficult, often impossible piece with such precision and ease.  To be able to do a simple task like hang something on the wall with someone you love and laugh about it in the end and have him tell me it was a great idea.  Oh, those holes in the wall, they will forever remain holes in my heart, and I love every one of them.

Sure, Steve and I were different on many levels, but oh we were like one person on all the higher levels.  We could read one another like a book and even better, we understood what we were reading.  We often laughed about how very similar we were and how we were the only people that knew it. 

I’m thankful to have spent my life with a man who was so like me in so many ways, yet one who was so foreign from who I could ever imagine being that I was able to learn and grow because we chose one another.

Yep, I will always have my holes, and I will cherish every last one of them.

Much love,

Janet

  

2 Timothy 1:3-4 ”I thank God for you—the God I serve with a clear conscience, just as my ancestors did. Night and day I constantly remember you in my prayers. I long to see you again, for I remember your tears as we parted. And I will be filled with joy when we are together again.”