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My Daughter, Please don’t walk away from me when life hits and your heart is broken. I know sometimes you hurt so bad you want to blame me. I understand how hard it is for you to keep your heart committed to me, when you feel I have disappeared in the midst of your pain. I have been broken for you to have the strength to live. I am here--and I am working things out for you even when it seems as if nothing has changed. I have my hand on you and extended to you at all times. No one can hold you as close as I can. So don’t run, my love--unless it is into my arms of mercy. Love, Your Lord Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. - Psalm 23:6 (NLT) This devotional is written by Sheri Rose Shepherd. All content copyright Sheri Rose Shepherd 2015. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. Visit HisPrincess.com for devotionals, books, videos, and more from Sheri Rose Shepherd.
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I think if ever there was a song that is the absolute echo of my heart, the tears that make rivulets on my face, the cries from the very depths of my soul - this could be it: Being a widow is more than missing your spouse's presence. It is quite literally adjusting to a total new life, an alternate life. It is growing around a permanent amputation, one where there is no prosthetic. Being a widow is going to bed night after night, 1798 times for me as of last night and the loneliness still doesn't feel normal. Neither does crying yourself to sleep, just aching to be held. It used to be seeing a bed brought a smile, and comfort. No longer. Seeing a bed is a vivid reminder of silence, emptiness, loss of connection. Being a widow is not feeling at "home" no matter where you are, or who you are with. Because your person is missing. Being a widow is knowing all your hopes and dreams that you shared as a couple are now crumbled into a pile of ashes. So begins the process of searching for new dreams that are yours alone. Being a widow is having every small victory including a new shade of grief that you can't share it with the one who propelled you onto this path. Being a widow is second guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. You find you are no longer the same person, and when others tell you this - you can't explain it, because you don't understand it. Being a widow is learning what you like, instead of what we like. What you want to watch, instead of what we enjoy watching. Being a widow is feeling excitement over this new person you are becoming, and yet knowing heartbreak because of the only reason you are this new person. Being a widow is being a stranger in your own life. It is unnerving to watch yourself going thru the motions of what was your life, and yet feeling detached and not a part of it. Having your previous life feel like a vapor mist that is gone, and it leaves you often wondering if it happened at all. Being a widow is the irony of knowing that if just that one person were here to hold you and support you, you could make it thru this grieving process. And that thought leaves you twisted and confused. Being a widow is missing the one person who was your memory keeper, the one who would laugh at your stupid jokes, the one who just got your irrational fears. To anyone else? You have to explain, and they don't understand even then, so you keep it all to yourself. And keeping it to yourself makes the loneliness grow by leaps and bounds. Being a widow is struggling with your own identity. This person you were with your spouse? You aren't that one anymore. So, who am I? If I am not going to do the things we planned, what do I do? What is my purpose if the joy of investing into my marriage is taken away? Who is my closest companion when my other half isn't here? Being a widow is a restless feeling because I have lost my home, my identity, my partner, my lover, my best friend, my travel companion, my security, my LIFE. And because I am drifting away with an unknown destination. Being a widow is living in a constant state of missing the most intimate relationship - with no hand to hold, no body next to you, no partner to share the good or the bad or simply the indifferent. Being a widow is feeling sad when you are happy and laughing. The guilt while you are living. It is looking back while moving forward. It is being hungry, but nothing sounds good. It is every event turning bittersweet. So, yes, being a widow is more, so much more, than simply missing their presence. It is becoming this new person, with a new life - you want to, but you don't want it, either. Being a widow is fighting every emotion a person can feel - at the very same moment, and trying to function in life at the same time. Being a widow is nerve-wracking. Being a widow is vulnerability. Being a widow is strength. Being a widow is darkness and light all mixed up together. Being a widow is ... LIFE changing.
I have had several people tell me in these last 3 years especially, that I need to stop sharing the dark moments of this widow's walk. That no one wants to read about the long lonely nights, or the days where grief gut punches. That no one needs all that. That people need & want only the uplifting words, and pretty pictures, or funny memes. All the other "stuff" is too negative. (Yes, some of these that have said this, are widows/widowers themselves.) Since there is no manual that I have been able to locate on this life as a widow, and thinking perhaps others know better - I have tried to steer clear of sharing about the long and lonely nights, the tears that I cry, the battles I fight (sometimes winning, sometimes ... well, not winning). Lately I have been weighing everything I share and post against their words. However, I have been questioning all of this the last few days. Rick asked me to always be brutally honest, even if I wasn't comfortable in doing so. So, by not doing what I promised to him, am I betraying his trust in me? The struggle has been real and intense this week. Yet, what do I receive just 2 days ago, early in the morning? 2 messages from 2 different people miles and miles apart - Thanking me for sharing a post from 2018 about the dark moments, the long & lonely nights, the tears cried, the battles fought whether lost or won, this life of being a widow and wading thru the grief! Telling me how much that one post from February 2018 meant to them. How it gave words to their own hearts and thoughts. How it even explained to their own minds what this process is all about. How it blessed them, comforting them that they are not alone! Wow. Rick was right. (Just don't tell him! lol) I know he is smiling today. At least for that post, and the other ones before I allowed words of a few to taint my writings to many. Life is real. I am hurting & healing at the same time. So no longer will I hide the bad with only the good. That's not living, that's not sharing. And most important? That's not what I promised my dying husband that I would do. Just remember: When the heart and life stop going up and down, we are dead. My renewed commitment to writing: I bow my head, and my heart, to be who I am - - for YOU, God of angel armies - - in all of this. Be it good or bad ... or even just indifferent. God of angel armies, You are always by my side. You go before me, opening up the ways, opening doors that no one can close, closing the doors that I don’t even need to know are there! You go before me, and You beckon me to follow You, trust You. You stand beside me. Your hand gently guiding and firmly encouraging me to move forward. You are always having my back. Guarding me, protecting me - not only from falling, but from anyone coming up against me. Thank You God. I love You. Oh how I love You!
I like sleeping with Graizie. She is my Russ cow. Some might think it silly, but she is a touchstone to Rick. I was remembering when he got her for me. We were at Promised Land dairy in Brenham TX. We stopped at the gift shop/office. I wanted to go in, he said we didn’t have time - he was just going to get the invoice signed and we had to get on the road. Hurt my feelings, but ok. So I sat in the truck and waited ... and waited. Thinking that it would not have taken me this long to just take a quick look around while he got the paper signed. Yes, I was pouting. It had been a difficult trip, and I was tired & grumpy. He opened the truck door, holding something behind his back. Smiled at me, and tenderly handed her to me. I squealed, and he smiled big. After that, she went with me every trip on the truck. Or every adventure we had. Graizie was a constant companion. She’s been in every home, and most ever car - since about 2001. I didn’t take her to KY with me, and I missed her every day, every night. She IS my touchstone with Rick. Even while he was alive, I would always give her a kiss on the head when I went by her. Holding her tenderly and lovingly. No one else has ever been allowed to play with her, not the kids nor the grandkids. And everyone knew why. Even more so now. Sleeping with her the last few nights has brought me great comfort and strength, also a calmness and peace. Silly perhaps, but one thing I have learned about grief - little if anything makes sense to us, let alone to those around us! We must do what brings us peace and any small measure of lasting comfort. She sits near me now, and she really seems more than a stuffed animal - I know it would be silly to anyone else ... but to me? This is a good thing. Thank you, Rick, for getting her for me. Thank you, Rick, for not letting me go into the gift shop that day so very long ago. Thank You, God - just for understanding how weird I am. ;)
How many times have I cried out "Jesus, hold me now" since leaving Kentucky in November 2019? I have lost count. Jesus, Hold Me Now Living on my own, thinking for myself Castles in the sand, temporary wealth Now the walls are falling down Now the storms are closing in And here I am again Jesus, hold me now I need to feel You in this place To know You're by my side And hear Your voice tonight Jesus, hold me now I long for Your embrace I'm beat and broken down I can't find my way out Jesus, hold me now Curse this morning sun, drags me into one more day Of reaping what I've sown, living with my shame Welcome to my world, and the life that I have made One day you're a prince, and the next day you're a slave Jesus, hold me now I need to feel You in this place To know You're by my side And hear Your voice tonight Jesus, hold me now I long for Your embrace I'm beat and broken down I can't find my way out Jesus, hold me now Lord, I just looked up today And realized how far away I am from where You are I don't know what else to pray Broken at Your feet I lay The life I've torn apart Jesus, hold me now I need to feel You in this place To know You're by my side And hear Your voice tonight Jesus, hold me now I long for Your embrace I'm beat and broken down I can't find my way out Jesus, hold me now Jesus, hold me now Jesus, hold me now Jesus, hold me now Jesus, hold me now ~ ~ Casting Crowns ~ ~ I had no idea that it has been just a little over a month since I have written here. Wow. Time seems to go faster every year ... no, every day! And now that the time has changed - Spring Forward - the mornings just disappear! I wake up, have coffee, read the Word, get dressed, and poof! The morning is gone! It's afternoon now. I shake my head and wonder if my body & mind will adjust to this. Oh I know it does every change of time ... but I'm older now - so will it adjust as quickly or as easily? Whew! This is only the 2nd day of this change, but good gravy! This past month was a most difficult one for me. On every level. February 9 brought Captain Jack down. Still not sure what is wrong with him. But, he's not road-worthy, I know that much. As long as the O/D light is off, indicative that the overdrive is working, he runs like a champ. However, as soon as the O/D light starts flashing, the power just simply goes away. Takes me down to around 40 mph. Then the engine will rev, almost like it is in neutral, finally shifting and then if the light goes out, we are back to running like it should. I am overwhelmed with all of this. I am doing my best to stay strong and wait patiently. But, I feel like I am getting weaker, not stronger. I am so very tired of being stranded, yet again. I was stranded like this for over 2 yrs in KY - because my car then would not run, it needed just a few little things done to it. Things that I was promised would be taken care of by friends ... things that were never taken care of. The car ended up literally rotting down in the yard. And I was left to blame for allowing it to happen, that I had not driven it like I should have to keep it running. ? ? ? This after being told to NOT drive it until all the little things were fixed. Oh - whatever! But the way that played out makes me feel that not-so-old-familiar frustration and discouragement. Now, everyone tells me what to check for, to take it to a mechanic, or what to do myself. When I tell them that I have checked what I can, and I have had it coded twice, with a transmission shop telling me it "I don't think it is the transmission, but even if it is, we need to get the engine running properly first." ? ? ? Then I am instructed to "suck it up, pay the money and get the darn thing fixed!" What NO ONE seems to get? I DO NOT have the money! If I had the money? It would have already been fixed, or replaced! Now, don't misunderstand me, I am not asking for this truck to be looked at for nothing. I have already paid over $200 to have it diagnosed, which led to 2 completely different "estimates" & diagnosis. One involving the transmission and the other involving the engine. With estimates running from $1500 to $5000. I only gave $6950 for the truck in the first place! So spending the higher end of those estimates does not make good sense. It's more like throwing good money after bad. :( At the most what I would hope for is that a mechanic that I could trust (is there one?), would look at it, give me an honest diagnosis, and tell me truthfully - is it worth fixing? And if yes, that he would allow me to pay him out on the work needed done to get me back on the road. The other thing that I am told to do is: "Turn it over to God. Trust Him." Ok. Good sound advice. I HAVE. I AM. I know that all of this is in HIS hands, not mine. But I also believe that God does not expect us to just sit on our empty hands and wait for Him to swoop in and rescue us. God helps us as we help ourselves. Or so I have been taught since a toddling child. I just don't know what to do ... nor how to do it ... and certainly don't know how to pay for it. It's hard not to be consumed with the thoughts that if Rick were here, HE would know exactly what to do! Not only was he a good mechanic, but he knew mechanics that could be trusted. And guaranteed, if a vehicle gave him much to deal with? That vehicle was not long a part of our "family". Rick was insistent that I have a running vehicle, no matter where we lived, nor what our life was like at the time. Even when we were on the truck together, my truck sat there, waiting and ready for me to get home to it. Sigh. So, the not-so-fun merry-go-round continues, threatening at any moment to throw me completely off. Sigh.  This past month hasn't just been about the truck, although that is enough! My children and grandchildren have been sick - flu and/or upper respiratory viral infection. As well as part of them have had a stomach "thing" that just seems to hang on no matter what they do, or don't, eat/drink. Sigh. Add to that, someone in trouble with the law because of inattentiveness to details ... and others with having dental work done - including wisdom teeth cut out. Oh, and I have been told that since the kids are grown, I shouldn't concern myself with them and their choices. Nor should I allow them being sick/hurt to take away from my peace of mind - after all, they are adults, and for the grandkids? Well, they have parents to attend to them! ? ? ? The ones who have said those words to me DO NOT KNOW ME! And they don't know the reality of life. Yes, the kids are grown and must answer for their own mistakes. But that doesn't mean that I don't care, or that I no longer worry. Yes, the grandkids belong to their parents for the raising. But again, that doesn't mean I don't care, or don't worry. Just because I am not the one directly responsible for their well being doesn't mean I am not called upon for wisdom, counsel, and advice! Oh, and I would have it NO OTHER WAY! I love my kids and grandkids. Even when life hits hard, or they make mistakes. I realize that the ones who said these words to me are perhaps trying to encourage me, but all I could (and continue to) think - REALLY? ? ? I have not, nor will I ever, wash my hands of my children and grandchildren. I have not, nor will I ever, cease to be Momma & Grannee!
And as if all of this were not enough ... I have been struggling with not feeling well, an earache that just will not go away and stay away, and a migraine from HELL - one that lasted well over 72 hours, one that greatly tempted me to go to the ER. I know that part of it all is the stress and frustration with everything going on in my life, and around me. And part of it is this time of year in Texas. 21* at night and 81* in the afternoon. Quite the change for this old body to accept and do well with. This part of it will level out soon. Easter is April 12 this year, no more freezes after that. :) The allergies will probably get worse before they get better - simply because things are just now beginning to show the new growth and blooms. I know I shall be ok - it will just take a little while to allow my body to once again adapt to these Texas spring times and effects. So, seeing February leave was NOT a bad thing this year. Hoping and praying that March will be BETTER.
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So why "Scattered Feathers" ? ? ?You can read it here 
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Website designed & developed by Margaret McCoy God is God over the storms in my life & world -
and I am His. Trusting in Him. Holding to His Promises as He holds me. Learning to laugh, to love, & to live ... again - without Rick, but with God Life goes on ... even when we don't want it to. Great grief is indicative of a great Love. Rick, my Sweetheart. Margaret, his Beloved. Always & Forever. |
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