Saturday, April 8, 2023

The Cross Road

 I have found on this journey of grief that I am constantly coming to a cross road. Yesterday I went to the cemetery and found that the grave stone had not been placed because the rain had made the ground too muddy. This represented stone cold sorrow.

On the way home I found trillium growing by the side of the road. From the first year Steve and I met we would go on a treasure hunt in April looking for trillium. It was a treasure hunt because trillium grows in the woods. I’ve never seen it growing on the side of the road before. For me trillium represents living hope.

I’m writing this on Holy Saturday. It is the day between when we remember Jesus’ crucifixion and His resurrection. It is a day to sit with sorrow. A day when you don’t rush past the grave but instead pause long enough to acknowledge the pain of grief and reality of death. Grief and sorrow are part of the story.

This is the cross road where I find myself. Roads lead somewhere. I have to choose either to stay in the graveyard looking at stone cold sorrow or turn my gaze to the trillium that represents living hope.

I choose hope. I choose to believe that because of the resurrection one day in the future a trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we will be changed. I choose to believe that when this corruptible is clothed with incorruptibility, and this mortal is clothed with immortality, that death will also be swallowed up in victory.

 Oh grave where is your victory? Oh death where is your sting? Today I sit with sorrow but sorrow is not my destination I choose the road that leads to a living hope!

Monday, November 28, 2022

Rejoicing in Hope

 This will be my first Christmas since Steve’s death. It is a very tender time. I go out on my porch and watch the sun rise and listen to Handle’s Messiah. Grief allows me to listen with a depth I’ve never experienced before. 


As I rock back and forth I feel cradled by the love of God. I watch the darkness of night replaced as the morning star arises. Though my tears flow freely I feel the invitation to rejoice in hope.


Etched into my memory are my last moments with Steve. Watching him take his final breath watching as the pulse in his neck slowly came to a stop. Releasing him to the hope of the resurrection.


Today I was listening to Chuck Swindol and heard a prayer about when Jesus gave up His spirit in the cross. “Yes take him home my Father. Take the Prince to His King. Take the Son to His Father. Take the pilgrim home, He deserves a rest. Come 10,000 angels! Come take this wounded troubadour to the cradle of His Father’s arms! Farewell manger infant. Bless you Holy Ambassador. Go home death slayer. Rest well sweet soldier. The battle is over. Amen”


To rejoice in hope is to live in the now and not yet. I will not be able to enter into the merriment of the holiday season but I will be able to celebrate the truth that the baby who was born in the manger will come again as the King who conquered death!

Thursday, October 13, 2022

 Child of My love, fear not the unknown morrow,

Dread not the new demand life makes of thee;

Thine ignorance doth hold no cause for sorrow,

For what thou knowest not is known to Me.

I threw away Steve’s toothbrush. When the bag was placed in the dumpster I had an overwhelming urge to dig through the garbage until I could find his toothbrush and put it back where it belonged. People tell me that there is no wrong way to grieve. That may be true but nothing about this feels right. 

Forty nine years ago I met Steve on a blind date. From that day on all my tomorrows included Steve. Now he’s gone. I found myself quoting a poem that I memorized when I was leaving home for the first time. I find in this poem a divine comfort knowing that what is unknown to me is known by my Heavenly Father.


Saturday, June 4, 2022

Until Death Do We Part


“I Sarah, take you, Steve, to be my husband, and I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife, I will live together with you in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, until death do we part.” I was 21, Steve was 23 when we entered into this marriage covenant. On May 9,2022 our covenant ended when Steve’s heart stopped beating.

I took a magic marker on our wedding trip. Steve had cancer and was taking radiation treatment. Every time we went swimming together I had to redraw the lines where he needed radiation. On our first anniversary he had competed his chemotherapy. I worked during the day and took care of him at night. The stress and lack of sleep caused me to have a nervous  breakdown. He took care of me until I recovered. Our next anniversary was spent working at Yellowstone National Park. “I will together with you in sickness and in health.”

Steve was with me for the birth of our four children. We shared the miracle of life, and I watched him as he tenderly held his children. We both wept as he dug the grave for Belle Marie here on the farm. I remember his words of comfort as we placed her little coffin in the ground. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but God will.” He comforted me during the loss of two more children. “I will live together with you in joy and in sorrow.”

If the covenant I made so many years ago had only been with Steve, I don’t know if it would have survived. I failed him often. Our humanity and selfishness caused us to hurt each other in many ways. However this covenant was made with God as well. “The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand”(Psa 37:23-24)

I promised to love, comfort, honor and keep Steve as my wedding husband until death parted us. Death has parted us and for the first time in 48 years I’ll be alone on June 8, our anniversary. Even though Steve won’t be here to celebrate with me I will still celebrate. I will celebrate the life we built together in covenant with God and each other.

Friday, June 18, 2021

When Your Cup is Empty

This has been a difficult year for me. The struggles I have face have exposed my many inadequacies. I didn’t realize how selfish I was until I was put in a situation where more was required of me than I was comfortable giving. 

My cup is empty. How can I pour from an empty cup? I can’t. I am depleted. 

I have come to the end of my resources so I take my empty cup and dip it into the Living Water. I have heard the invitation to come and drink. I drink until my soul is satisfied and then I dip my cup again into the water. Now I will have something to share.

Coming to the Living Water in order to fill my empty cup is my picture of being faithful in prayer.

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

One Day At A Time

 I woke up this morning with this poem on my  mind. I wanted to share it because I thought perhaps it might encourage someone the way is has encouraged me.

http://www.homemakerscorner.com/ajf-oneday.htm


Friday, June 4, 2021

Encouraging Myself in the Lord

I have spent 4 years in the book of Revelation. At first I taught it not by reading commentaries but by looking at the visions John had until I could see them enough to draw them.  Next, I decided that since in the first chapter there is a blessing promised to those who read these prophecies and take them to heart that I would memorize the book. I’ve been working on it for four years. I’m only on the eleventh chapter. 


The key to life that I found through my years in Revelation is this: God has chosen us to be part of a bigger story. The God who is and was and is to come is the author. Our lives can only be understood when we realize that we are part of a story being told. It is the story of LOVE and REDEMPTION. Joy is found when you trust the author to write your part of the story.


The morning of Steve’s surgery I woke up to the words, “ I am the One who goes before you. I will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid or discouraged.” God gave me the grace to not be afraid.


“Do not be afraid or discouraged.” This week I have been struggling not to be discouraged. I’ll be honest. It would be so easy to be slide into depression. I wake up every morning and I encourage myself in the Lord. I offer to Him the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. I anchor my soul in truth.


I’m on a path that I would not have chosen, but I trust my Shepherd. My eyes are regularly bathed by tears. Steve and I pray together daily that our lives will magnify the One who is both the author and the finisher of our faith.