Hello Hatters,
It’s a quiet December Saturday. I’ve had a nap. I woke up in my chair and thought about the pictures on my wall. Several of them are of from our church’s activities related to the picture directory. Country Hubby always sat behind me as though wrapping his love and protection around me. Since his passing, I can honestly say that's what I miss the most: he held me, he loved me, he saw me for me, and he treasured me. His personality and his life was so huge, and now so missing from our home.
It’s not going to be an easy week. Next Saturday marks the one year anniversary of his passing. The memories of being with my Country Hubby are more dear to me today than words can describe. Mostly, I’m coping and working and living. I spent the morning having breakfast with some of my kids and grammybabies; we went to our favorite taco hut. We had good laughs and shared togetherness time. Plans were shared for Christmas programs for the children, as well as performances by my daughter’s choir at her school. I look forward to these events in the near future; they will be precious for me as I get through this first Christmas being a widow.
My Country Hubby was 15 years my senior, so in my head, I knew that the time would come when I would be by myself. The journey has been harder than I could've ever imagined. When I find my spirit wobbly like this moment, right now, I just remember that I am held in my faith walk. It is so evident that my God is present every second, each minute, and into the hours and the days.
Yesterday, on my streaming music, I discovered an artist whose song really spoke to me and gave me a fresh message of hope. I find music to be such a blessing and gift. I'm so glad that there are talented musicians willing to enrich the lives of others, including me. Thankfully, my whole family loves and appreciates the beauty of music; we love the arts and we've shared many many wonderful times together.
Another blessing God gave me this week was on my drive to work. I noticed the changing of the colors of the trees in a cherished view of the yellows, the rusts, and the burgundies. I know that those trees will soon be bare as the leaves drop to the ground. But right now, those trees are in the forefront of the evergreen trees. This season will yield to the next, just as I must keep moving to my next season. I don’t feel much like an evergreen tree at this point in my life, in this difficult season of grieving. I relate more to the trees that are losing the leaves. I am grateful for the symbolic and consistent steadiness of the evergreen trees. It’s just like the song from yesterday, don’t lose hope and I’m graced with vision of the evergreen tree.
One day this heavy grief will soften to grow me, and shape my compassion for others. Although I'll never be the same, I aim to be the evergreen tree and be hope to others. I've spoken with many widows and they've told me you don't ever get over losing your husband, you just find your way through it.
I know that joy is lasting and while I might be missing the ways of Country Hubby and seeing his laughter in the holidays, I am held together by my God, my family, and my friends. My Country Hubby loved decorating the house, the gates, and the bushes for Christmas. He was a big kid who grew happier with every string of lights that he hung.
We used to drive by a house down the street every year. We called it the house with the picket fence. For years, that house was famous for its Christmas decorations. As the years went by, the decorations became less and less. We pondered about possible health issues for the owners. Perhaps, they were unable to continue the traditions. Now it is my house for which there are no lights on the outside; no evidence of Country Hubby’s touch for Christmas. His roses, bushes, and trees live on, and so must I.
I have a new lighted willow tree in my living room; it has a lot of blinking gold lights. It’s my little touch for Christmas this year and it is enough. It's simply me and where I am. The Lord sends me signs and messages with my pictures, the music, the seasonal changes, and the laughter of family and friends.
I have mentioned before that the thing that gets me through these low periods is to question my focus and my posture. If my focus is on the longing that I feel in my soul, then I need to renew my gaze upward. Get in Scripture, be in Fellowship, and offer my Service. When my posture is downcast, I need to reposition. Am I being grateful? As a writer who wears many hats just like you, I must remember that I am held and I own my focus and my posture. I’m called to my purpose and called to share my journey. I know it’s really raw right now but there’s hope…
I’m held in that hope.
MT Penny