My Prince, with tissues, tears, and a smile

I dreamed about him for years.  Vague glimpses into a future, where I knew he would someday meet me, were so welcome.  Any scenarios put forth in life or movies, would be absorbed into my hopes and catalogued away.  I would think, yes, if it were to happen like that for me, that would be a great thing.

The Lord brought him into my world on a most unexpected Friday; just the description of him caused flutters in my heart. After meeting a few weeks later, I knew that I had spent time with a man of such character that my dreams may not have done him justice.  I was taken with him, right off, and through the Lord's careful direction and timing, we became man and wife eight months later.

Fast?  Many would have assuredly told you that and maybe questioned our timing.  Our parents stood behind us, our love in front of us, and the Lord choreographing every step above us.  You see, He had to bring us together, because the time was fast approaching when I would need my man in the worst ways imaginable.

People always say that first year of marriage is the hardest, I guess it is because of all of the adjustments and such.  It wasn't that way for us, in our own little home.  It was as if we had been waiting our whole lives to meet up with thae twin soul created for us. When we were brought together, it was the most natural of occurences.  Days passed into weeks, and we were in awe of how fun, simple, and overwhelmingly right life together could be. 

We had been married just shy of 9 months when we lost Todd.  Newlyweds to the fullest definition of the word.  We knew each other, yet struggling through the suffocating waters of tragedy was not a path we had  taken until that time.  As we drove those 9 hours to NY, to the inevitable goodbyes to my brother, I sat in the back seat.  With each mile, we were leaving further behind that carefree soul I had been.  Heartache, heartbreak, and intense sorrow was quickly filling my heart.   How could we face such a traumatic time?  How could we bear it?

The Lord knew before we even met, that He would be holding us through those dark days.  He knew I needed a strong man.  A man who understood emotions that couldn't be put into words.  A man who can hurt alongside those that are hurting.  A man to hold me up when my legs could no longer do the job. A man to wipe the tears away that just would not stop coarsing down my cheeks.  A man who would sit with my family, for days,  feeling pain with us.  A man who loved my brother as much as he could in the short time that he was given with him.  A man  who would mourn with us the loss of years of life and shattered dreams.  A man to grieve with me.  A man who would tell me that he would be there, no matter what I was able to offer him.  A man who would love me, when there was only agony to hold.

He stayed in NY as long as he could, and then came on home to live our lives.  He left me with my parents, understanding that we needed each other desparately for a unspoken amount of time.  He loved me from the miles and waited until he could open his arms to me again.

I was scared to come back home. I knew that I hadn't made deep friendships yet.  Who was going to come check on me?  Call to see if the day went ok?  I remember telling my childhood pastor my fears for returning home.  I told him that Kevin would have to be my everything, and that I didn't think a husband should have to play every roll.  Kevin had assured me time and again that he was there for me, in whatever way I needed.  My pastor said to me, "Tara, let him take care of you. Let him support you in all the ways that he can. He is willing to, let him do it."

Those words burned into my heart and came back to me time and again.  Kevin has been my man through it all. He has loved me when I was upset. He has loved me when the tears choked out any words.  He has loved me when my dreams have haunted me and I awake numb to the world.  He has loved me through my inability to participate in gatherings that had once been routine.  He hasn't rushed me through the grief.  He has listened with a heart prepared by our Lord. 

The Lord knew the man I needed.  He knew when I needed him as well.  Sure, I wish that we could have met sooner, but I am so thankful that he brought us together when he did.  For he gave our family almost nine months together as a family of six.  The Lord has His own plan, in His own time, in His way.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,"
            declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Isaiah 55:8-9

I cannot question; I can only thank the Lord for His provision.  He gave me a husband that loves me with a love greater than I can imagine.  A man who has been my rock and my comfort through truly the darkest days of life.  A man who has been able to make me laugh, who has whisked me away from the pressures to places where sunshine and happiness rained over us.  He gave me a man that I could not have even imagined I would need. I am so thankful for a Lord who knows our deepest needs, before we often face them, and sends to us the provisions to carry us through.

Follow the prompting

Acknowledging the prompting, that familar feeling we have all had, can be the most valuable choice we make some days.  Sometimes when thinking along through the day, a person comes to mind. We wonder how they are, what might be happening with them, and then we go on. What if instead, we followed the prompting? 

One day, I had the privilege of being on the receiving end of someone choosing to follow the prompting.  I know that the Lord lays upon our hearts those that have need. He does this, so we can minister to them, showing His love through our actions. 

She called as I was driving, and since my sporadically functioning cell phone worked, we talked and talked.  I needed that visit so much.  She asked about everything, and I shared about even more.  She followed the prompting in her heart, from the Lord, to check on me. In turn, the abundant blessings that it rained into my soul healed and uplifted my heart.  Discouragement, sadness, unspoken hurts were given a voice, heard, cared about, and I was able to go on with a lighter and uplifted heart.  The Lord saw my need, prompted her heart, and she blessed me abundantly.

There have been many times when the Lord has layed someone upon my heart.  If I had followed that prompting, I could have changed someone's day or maybe even their week.  The Lord could have used my voice to speak His message into their lives.  Simply, as I followed the prompting. 

Sharing

Sharing thoughts has always been helpful to me.  I value deeply those that listen intensely and make the time to hear the heart struggles of others.  Writing these thoughts has been a new venue.  I wrote for so long, not sure if it was time to share with anyone else.  When it was time to "let the world know", as facebook is so helpful in facilitating, I did so with trepidation.  My expectations were in check, my motives were hopefully right, and I just trusted that maybe God could do something with it all.

Responses brought tears to my eyes, and made my heart so full.  Thank you to those of you who took moments to share your stories, your sympathy, and your encouragement.  I cannot figure out how to adequately thank you for helping me march through that six months of loss milestone with heartfelt love.

Simply, thank you, and if you find help or encouragement in anything else you read, may it be a blessing to your hearts and truly God's words through my fingers.

3 Words

It had been weeks since I had returned home to Kevin.  In God's goodness, I was able to stay as long as possible with Mom and Dad before we all headed back to try to live the lives that had gone on amidst our sorrow.  Now, I was home, with my beloved husband, so thankful to be with him and torn by the pain of what I had left behind forever.  It was hard to be back.  Things are so different in a place where you are still "new", and so brutally scarred by heartache.  Home was safe. Any departure from our home required a deep breath of gumption and intense concentration to steal against the onslaught of emotions I couldn't control in an environment I couldn't possibly predict.

I learned quickly that the, "I am so sorry. How are you doing?" comments that had been part of our daily survival in NY, would not be heard.  It is different.  I ached to be acknowledged for the pain.  Pain that I couldn't see past, look around, or barely push aside long enough to have eyes unswollen by tears.  I held to the thought that if my grief wasn't acknowledged, then surely I couldn't share what was happening inside.  This was a horrible spot to be in.  I longed to talk about Todd. I yearned to put into words the emotions that were swallowing me alive.

Into this ugly place in heart, God sent a friend.  One morning, with my heart steeled to survive the hours away from our house, I was taking care of errands.  A dear heart, upon seeing me for the first time after knowing we had lost Todd, spoke the words that brought an abundance of comfort and a measure of healing...

"Oh, Tara, I am so sorry."  I burst into tears, nodding, and saying thank you over and over again.  Thanking her for expressing this sympathy.  The only person who had in weeks of my being back.  She was concerned and upset that she had made me cry.  In the midst of my tears, I hurried to urge her that her words didn't hurt me more.  That I was crying because she had acknowledge my grief, and that I saw in her actions a blessing so abundant.  We cried together. She hurt with me. She shared from her life. I shared from mine.  We laid the burdens of sorrow at each other's feet.

The power of three words.  I am sorry.  So often I have thought, but I don't know what to say.  There is nothing right, pefect, or profound when you face someone who has buried their greatest hopes and dreams for a loved one.  Nevertheless, there is still something that can be said.  I am sorry.  If trying to not upset them, and choosing to keep silent is an often used choice, please consider that there is something better.  A grieving person hurts, aches, and has a troubled heart at all moments.  Nothing changes that.  Your words- I am sorry, might be the blessing in the crevices of torture.  It might be the one moment that they can return to again and again, knowing that you cared. That you cared enough to put yourself out there to offer sympathy.  They might need that knowledge to cling to on a dark day. I did, have, and will again.  Only 3 words, yet more powerful than any might know when speaking them.

Loving

When you lose someone you love intensely, you learn to grasp every moment, memory with a tight fisted grip.  I didn't know that my last texts from Todd, would be the ones that I will cherish forever.  I didn't know that last conversation would be the deepest memory of his voice I hold in my heart.  I didn't know that those pictures from Christmas would become the image I hold forever in my mind's eye.  Thankfully, the Lord gave us those moments, and I have them forever in my heart. 

We don't know when our last moments with our loved ones will come.  Our loss has caused me to count each moment even more precious.  Some days I just work 2 floors above Kevin's office, yet I impress his grinning face into my mind as we part in the morning.  I want to have those "last" moments, be right moments.

If you love deeply, tell that person, show that person.  Take the times you have to fill them with goodness.  I know that life isn't perfect, and there are days when frustrations and anger overtake our hearts.  I also know that we are not promised more memories. We have the ones we are creating now.  Some day those will be the last.

Message from John

Kevin spoke yesterday at a little church where he fills the pulpit from time to time.  He shared from the passage in Scripture, I John 3:17, 18~

But whosoever hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his compassions from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?

My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth.

I listened with ears that heard this message in a whole new light. The Lord tells each of us how to help people who are in need. Simply, if you have something, which someone needs, share it.  This "something" could be provisions, money, your time, your care in the form of a listening ear, or your love in a hug with the question what can I do to help you? or I am here standing beside you through this ache.   God says that if we don't share this, then how does His love dwell inside of us? 

I think v. 18 stuck even more.  Let us not just love in word or in tongue-  maybe this means doing a little more than giving out the standard, I will pray for you.  Maybe it means to sit down beside the person, take their hand in ours, ask them how we can pray for them and then praying at that very moment.  Then within a day or two, we pick up the phone to call and see if we can come and visit and continue to love them in deed and action.

We each have gifts that were given to us by the Lord. He wants us to use them, and I believe that He gives many opportunities, if only we look around and see those that have need.  How can we "hold back" something that might mean everything to the person  with whom it is shared.  Let us, let God, use us to bless the hurting around us.

Using hurt

There is one thing that I know, that I cling deeply too, in the depths of hurt there are ways to learn how to help others.  If  I can stare at tragedy with eyes that are searching for how God can use the agony, there is comfort to be found. It is almost a way to twist the never ending pain into a focus on something beneficial.

God has taught us much through the last few months. He has shown me what it is like to hurt so much that you can't explain it in words to people.  Yet, He has sent comfort in those desparate times.  I guess what I have learned is ways to reach out to others.  How often do we hear of unspeakable sadness in the lives of people we love, see at church, or know casually?  How often do we feel like we don't know how to help, although we may wish we could.

The other day, I was struck with the simplest of questions. A question that, frankly, I wish we had been asked more often.  I thought, if someone had asked this of my husband or myself, how easily we could have pleaded for help in ways that we so desparately needed it.

"How can I help you?"  Not, a simple, "Let me know if you need anything."  I think this phrase, although, ringing with the truest of intentions, requires the aching soul to be the one to reach out.  That is the last thing a hurting person may be capable of doing.  In contrast, if we merely utter the question, "How can I help you?", we allow them the opportunity to put into words a need. 

Kevin didn't leave me alone unless he had to for the longest time. Why? Becuase when he did, without fail, he would return to me, crying so hard, completely crushed in memories and thoughts of my dear brother.  We had company one weekend, and he went outside and worked for hours.  Unwittingly, he later shared that he had felt that I was "ok", because I was with my friend. He had the freedom to leave me with her, knowing she would be ministering to me in his absence. I had no idea this was how it had been for him. 

If someone would have asked us, "How can I help?"  He may have been able to say, "Please, come keep Tara company.  She needs to visit and share her heart, and I need to carry on our life, until she can again."