From the Season of Panic to the Season of Sorrow

This is one of the last things Todd wrote and gave to me.  This was a couple of years before he died. He was loosing his ability to write, but could still do a little bit at this point. A few months later, he didn't even know how to write his own name any more.  He always believed in me, and said I was the best thing that ever happened to him.  This note is one of my most cherished gifts from him.  

Todd use to call this time of year, his season of panic.  You see, gift giving wasn’t exactly his strong point, in fact, I don’t think that kind of thinking crossed his mind too often.  So why the panic?  Well, there is Christmas, then the following week, our anniversary, then two weeks later my birthday.  So within three weeks, he had the three “biggies” of gift giving.  It always sent him into panic mode, which usually resulted in him doing nothing. Poor guy.  I’d drop hints, make suggestions, but it rarely helped.  Occasionally, he would come up with something for one of those events that was quite creative and thoughtful.  But those times were few and far between.  A few times, by mistake, he bought a birthday card and gave it to me for Christmas, I’d chuckle at the crossed off “happy birthday” and the hand written in Merry Christmas, but at least he had made the effort.  One time, I asked him if he had even read the card before he bought it and signed it and gave it to me, and he asked me why I’d say that.  I said, “because it says Happy Birthday, not Merry Christmas. :-)”.  Then he’d give me a sheepish grin that only Todd could give, and we’d both be laughing.

But now, he’s gone, and he no longer has to panic this time of year.  For me this time of year has turned into my season of sad memories.  It starts with his birthday in November, then we move to today, (Dec. 22) the anniversary of his death or better said, departure from this world to his new home in heaven.  Then there’s Christmas without him, then a week later, what would have been our Anniversary but now also the anniversary of his funeral, then two weeks later, my birthday without him here.

Sometimes I’m not sure how I should process all this.  To just ignore these days, seems wrong and unhonoring to Todd, but to mope and be sad seems wrong too.  He’s celebrating in heaven face to face with Jesus, and I don’t think he’d want me to be all sad and down.  Todd was one of the most positive persons I have ever known.  I use to say, even his blood was positive (A+).  I on the other hand, have always tended to see things from the negative point of view, and yes, even my blood flows negative. (O-). I’m not sure blood type has anything to do with our actual view of things, but it tended to flow that way with us.  I’ve had to learn to live more positive, though that doesn’t come naturally to me.  It’s a constant battle to change my way of thinking.

So today, on this mile-marker day, I choose to rejoice. I choose to be positive. I choose to live life to it’s fullest.  I choose life.  And in doing that, I believe honors Todd.

  Love and miss you Todd!

Thinking of him today.

   

Happy birthday in heaven Todd.

   She sat staring at his picture.  How could he really be gone. But life was all too real, she knew it to be truth, as it had been almost four years since she felt the warmth of his hand in hers.  How she longed for one more conversation with him. One where he could communicate back.  That had all been stolen away.  Though only gone four years, his communication had been gone long before that.  

     In these years when they looked forward to doing the things they had always dreamed of, she sat alone, knowing this was not part of their dreams.  Widowhood was not in the plan at all.  They use to have teeshirts that said, “Two are better than one, for if one falls, the other is there to pick them up.” Now there was no one left to help her up when she fell down.  The kids did their best in sending love and encouraging words like, “Mom, you can do this, you can make it.”  She felt his love through them. 

    She thought about how her life was almost robbed of these precious children, a product of their love.  They stood long and hard on God’s Word, knowing God wanted them to raise a family in His ways.  But years after year, it looked hopeless.  God finally stepped in, and three miracles were born, a fourth growing up in heaven.  She had experienced God’s faithfulness.

    So she knows that even though she sits alone, God will be faithful to her.  She will make it through.  She knows the strength she has found walking through this dark valley, is one that can be shared to encourage others to make it through their valley too.  

(Sometimes I find myself writing in third person.) 

Saying Goodbye for me but Hello Again for Todd

  The man walked slowly along the beautiful river. The clearness and the sparkles in the water somehow always refreshed his soul. But then again, it was the River of Life, Heaven  has a way of making all things beautiful.  The man couldn’t hardly think back when he walked the shores of the Missouri river here on earth, those were all a distant memory, the greatness and beauty of heaven overshadowing all that he left behind on earth.

   Suddenly he heard a sound in the distance, that shook him out of his beautiful surroundings. A distant memory. Could it be? Is it really?

   From over a small hill came a man dressed in white, and beside him, a bounding black and white dog.  The man smiled and laughed and let out his ‘whistle.’ At that the dog took off at a dead run, and leapt into the man's arms as he approached.  “Quito” he whispered. The loving dog licked his face, the reunion was cherish by both man and dog.

   The man in white approached as the man and his dog rolled in the green grass, laughing with a joy only a reunion like this could explain. The man in white spoke as the two laughed on.  “She asked him if he wanted to come play with you today.  The tears were running down her face, as she had to let him go to come to you. Here there is no sorrow, but on earth, the tears are flowing."  

    “Is she really sad?” the man asked. 

    “Yes," said the man in white, “Sadder than you can imagine.  For she held onto him as her last connection to you.  She cared for him greatly even here when he was fading, and her heart was breaking as she knew he would be leaving her soon.”  

    “I wish I could see her, and tell her it’s ok. Not to cry anymore, as there’s no tears here.”  said the man.  

   Suddenly a veil was rolled back, and the man could see her on earth.  Sitting in her back yard crying, as the raindrops were softly falling all around her.

   “Tears from heaven.” she said quietly.

   “What is she doing?” the man asked.

   “What do you think she’s doing?” the man in white asked.

   “Writing.  She always loved to write.  She could always put on paper, the deep words of her heart.”

     “Yes, that’s what she is doing.” said the man in white.

     “Can we tell her we love her, and it’s ok?” said the man.

     “I’ll tell her, but I think she already knows.”

   The scene suddenly changed to earth, and the women sitting alone with tears streaming down her face.

   “Thank you Lord for a loyal pet, who loved me, and was always so concerned about me.  When one loves deeply, the sorrow is ever so deep too.  But I know you can turn my sorrow into dancing, my sadness into joy.  But for this moment, I weep, because I just lost my best fur friend I’ve ever had. Have Todd take care of him now up in heaven, and tell, them it really won’t be long, and we’ll all be together.”

   With that the woman closed her computer screen, and went back into the house.  She saw the dog's water and food dish by the back door, and there was a catch in her throat.  This time he’s not coming back, there’s no need for it any more.  She emptied the food back into the food bin to give to a friend who has a dog.  The water dish she put away, her heart breaking for the empty spot it left.

     She looked at the painting she had painted a year ago, of the two of them together. “Well, they're together again,” she said with a tear rolling down her cheek.  “Loved you both so very much. You’ll always be in my heart.”

______________

“Quito”  spring of 2006- July 20, 2017.  Our beloved border collie.

Today I said good bye to the best dog ever!  Quito captured the hearts of everyone that met him.  This last few years he had retired from being a cattle dog, and had become an excellent 'greeter' at Alive Christian Fellowship.  He always made people feel welcome and loved.  He cared greatly for those who were hurting, and would often come and lay his head in their lap to give his comfort in the only way he knew.
Last night he seizured, and was no longer able to get up and walk. The vet discovered a large mass on his spleen, so large that it had pushed his intestines out of place.  This explains his moans in the last month or more and also his dropped appetite.  His blood count was low so very possibly he was bleeding internally too.  It was the hardest decision of all to say good bye to such a loyal pet.  Love you so much Quito.
I'm sure Todd is having fun playing with you now.

    

     

Good Bye Fluffy

Fluffy from several years ago.  But I've always loved this picture of him.

   The house seemed extra quiet tonight when Quito and I walked through the door. There was no Fluffy waiting for us, hoping to escape out the door before I could catch him.  

   I set his empty kennel on the floor, with his empty collar and ID tag attached to the door.  I felt I just can’t deal with it right now.  I shed tears today, and actually surprised myself.  I’m crying over a cat!  Hey, don’t judge me, I’m not a cat hater, I’ve always loved the little furry critters.  Fluffy was no exception.  He did annoy me with his constant hair all over my furniture though.  But he made up for his annoying hair, with an occasional jump into my lap, and soft purr rumbling giving me warmth on a cold winter night.  I guess when ever he did jump into my lap I really enjoyed it, cause with Fluffy, it was the exception not the rule.  It meant I was finally allowed into his circle of love.  Even after Kristi left home, it as months before he would acknowledge I even existed.  He was a one person cat. Kristi reigned supreme in his eyes and heart.  When she was no longer around, he finally settled for me for a soft lap, since I was all that was left in the house.

   He ruled over Quito too.  It always amazed me how this maybe 9 pound cat, ruled over a 65 pound dog.  If Fluffy wanted Quito’s bed, he got it, Quito got up and moved somewhere else.  Does Quito realize he’s gone?  Has he noticed he’s not around to pester him?  I don’t think he’s noticed yet.

   I stepped into my sunroom, and expected to see him lying on the freezer, watching the neighbors birds.  Since the neighbor has a big bird feeder, Fluffy has enjoyed this perch all winter watching the birds, hoping to get outside and do some hunting himself.

    So I again say good bye to something I love.  Another empty spot in my heart.  Yah, I know it was only a cat, but you just get use to him being there, and now he’s gone, it’s just another adjustment in my life again.    I do want to thank Fluffy for all the mice he caught, he did his job well.  He thoroughly enjoyed hunting.  He was just being who he was made to be.  Now, I need to follow his example and just be who I am meant to be. I don’t catch mice (thank God!) but hopefully who I am is a blessing to those around me.  

    By the way, Fluffy was originally named “Charcoal” because he looked like the color of charcoal.  His first winter, he got ‘fluffier, and fluffier’ till we couldn’t help but call him “Fluffy”.  I always hoped it didn’t hurt his male ego to be called a less than masculine name, but it so fit him.  

   Good bye, Fluffy, you’ll be missed greatly.

My last picture of Fluffy.  From Sunday night.  He was very sick, and kept crawling into his litter box to sleep.  I guess when a cat is very ill, they'll do this.  It didn't seem like a pleasant place to sleep to me though. 

Living by a Whistle

   I live by a whistle.  That may sound like a strange thing to say, but if you live in a small town like Kenmare, you know what it means. Three times a day the whistle sounds. First at noon then at six pm, then finally the curfews whistle at 9:30.  I know, it's like living in the days of Mayberry RFD, but I actually like it and find it a comfort.

    I do have to confess that when I lived here before, and my oldest son was a toddler, I use to tell him that the whistle at 9:30 pm meant he had to be in bed or the police would come and find him if he was still outside.  It worked for a while to get my little night owl to bed.  He was often concerned when we came home late from some out of town Bible Study that the police were going to come. I assured him that if he was with his mom and dad, he was fine.  Okay, so my one bedtime threat had some flaws.  But it still was an outside governing 'rule' that said, 'you need to be in bed now.'  It was a constant; it was consistent, even when I failed to be.

    Some people like to run from any kind of rules and time order.  They may not break the law, but they'll bend the rules to fit what they want.  This is often the approach people have towards God's Word.  They bend it, and form it into what they want it to say, not necessarily what it says.  Or they just ignore it totally.

    But I find God's Word like the whistle, a constant, a steady, and always there. It's not going to change cause I want it to blow at three pm instead of six.  It's going to stay the same.  It can be my reference point to see if I'm still "on time."

    There are things that can block you for hearing the whistle at times.  Sometimes when you’re working on a job in the house, and there’s other noise around I can’t hear the whistle.  Distractions; things screaming louder than the whistle.  Things in our life can be that way too.  We let the cares of this world, sound louder than God’s Word.  They’re not bad things, they’re just the everyday living, that can get so loud that they drown out the Word of God speaking into our life.  We can’t hear any more through the busyness of life, or the pursuit of other things.

    Sometimes when I’m down in my basement, I can’t hear the whistle blow. The rock walls are just too thick.  So too in life, the walls we put up, keep us from hearing God’s Word speak into our life.

     But then there are times, when I’m quietly working in my office, and I hear the whistle blow, and it reminds me what time it is, and where I’m at in my day.  So too, with God, when we get quiet and hear His Word, it reminds us of where we are in life, and gives us the guidance we need to carry on. For His Word is a light to my path.

 I've decided my life will be way more 'on time' if I live by that whistle.  In other words; living by His Word.  Jesus, the same, yesterday, today and forever. He's my whistle!

   Got to go, the whistle just blew telling me it’s time to be in bed.