Shattered Pieces

 Shattered Pieces

    Yesterday, I pulled out some boxes out of my storage unit. Specifically looking for kitchen boxes. Then I found Kitchen Box #15, which I've been scared to open since putting all my things in a storage unit. Unfortunately, as we were unloading the Penske moving truck, this box fell from the back of the truck and landed on the cement. If you've ever used a Penske truck, you know that's about a 4' drop. When my cousin picked up the box, he said it rattled. I looked in my little blue journal, where I had labeled and cataloged what every box had in it. My heart sank when I read "Coffee Mugs." Yes, very breakable. Coffee mugs are not all that valuable, but many are sentimental. You see, I have a collection of random mugs. Whenever I travel, I love to collect coffee mugs from where I've spent some time or some place of significance in my life. 

    As I opened the box yesterday and carefully unwrapped each mug, there were quite a few broken ones. Several survived the fall and were unscathed, and I was thankful. One broken mug brought tears to my eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. It was a coffee mug given to Todd when we left the pastorate in Kenmare. The mug says, "A PASTOR is one who speaks to your spirit, listens to your heart, and understands what words can never say."  The whole time I pastored in Kenmare, I used that mug to remind myself of the incredible calling I had again in Kenmare to love on the people and speak life into their lives. So, seeing the mug shattered was just so heartbreaking. It represented ten years of my life, pastoring in Kenmare, and now it was shattered. So this morning, I slowly and meticulously super-glued it back together. It will never be able to hold a drink again, but I can still look at it and use it to hold useful things on my desk. It took me nearly an hour to figure out where each piece fit back together. It was one small piece at a time till the puzzle was slowly reassembled. A few chips are missing, and it will never look new or be what it was originally designed for, but now it will be repurposed and still cherished. Though the other 5 or 6 mugs that were broken ended up in the trash can, this one still will 'live' on, though totally different now.

This mug seems to parallel my life—shattered but put back together with God's SUPERnatural Glue and redesigned for another purpose. That's what God does best: bring us into newness of life and hope to a life shattered by the 'falls' of life. That's why His grace is so amazing, and it's always 'unfolding' in my life.

   "So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without His unfolding grace."

2 Corinthians 4:16 MSG

Dancing Alone

    

 The woman was smiling as she watched their first dance. That little little girl she’d raised now gracefully gliding across the floor with her smiling young groom.  The first time they met was on the dance floor at mutual friends wedding.  Her, a lovely bridesmaid, him the DJ of the dance.  His eyes saw her across the room, and thought how pretty she looked, and wondered what she was like.  After a few songs, he started the next song on the play list, then went across the room and asked her to dance.  In the days and months that followed, the dance carried on, until he found himself on his knee with a ring in his hand to ask this young lady if they could continue to dance together for the rest of the their lives.  She in her beautiful smile said yes, and as it’s said, the rest is history.

  But today, they danced together again but now as husband and wife.  The woman stood smiling, with a happy tear glistening in her eye.  This was the little girl she had many years ago desperately prayed to have. Now she’s all grown up.  The DJ now invited everyone else to join them on the floor as they celebrated together how God had brought them together.

    She then saw her two sons grab their wives hands with smiles on their faces and begin to glide across the floor to join in their sister‘s celebration.  They had moments earlier taken their sister’s arms and walked her down the aisle, for her Daddy was no longer here to walk with her.  Other friends and relatives joined in with smiles on their faces as they spined and glided across the dance floor.  This was a time to celebrate.  No one noticed the mom standing slilent on the side, with one eye a tear of gladness and the other eye a tear of saddness, for her arms were empty, and noone to dance with her today.  She even quickly glanced around the room for her little grandson thinking maybe she could intice him for a dance on the floor, but she never found where he was, most likely off playing with a new wedding friend some six year old game of action and fun.  So the woman just watched on in silence, with mixed emotions of joy and loss all rolled into one.  No one knowing the pain a widow feels in those moments of great joy for everyone present.  Joy and pain all mixed into one, sorrow and celebration, opposites but related.  Trying to naviagate a dance all on her own, it a world of swirling couples.  Her dance no longer found in the arms of her best friend, was only in her memory and heart. 

He Walked with Me Through

The book is now available on Amazon.com

 These last few weeks have been pretty busy with my eyes glued to a computer screen doing the last edits and formatting on my 1st book called, “He Walked with Me Through”.  On Friday, Dec. 16, 2022 it went live (available) on Amazon.  

    This is the story of Todd’s accident, TBI, and the bizarre life that followed for me, struggling through being a caretaker, and then later a widow.  Even though it’s not a happy story, I still hope it can bring hope to the reader.  Even through the darkest times, God can walk with you.  We don’t always get delivered out of the darkness, but He always promises to walk with us through it.   Then as we take one step at a time through the dark valley, we make progress towards the light and the beauty again.

   I’ve dreamed for years of writing and publishing my writings.  It didn’t just happen, I had to make it happen, and do the work, but the dream has come true.  I’m still dreaming.  I have at least three more ‘books’ floating around in my thoughts, and working on getting them down on paper.  

    Thanks for reading!

   

My Gramma Drives a Jeep

My three teachers who give me "Grandma Lessons"

 My Gramma Drives a Jeep

My Gramma drives a Jeep, 

I think that’s pretty neat

She tow’s it behind the big RV

For the country she does see.

She travels all around 

Singing songs about our Lord

She opens up the Word of God

And on it, she does expound.

But just the other day

She parked it not far away

Said she wanted to take some time

To get to know her little tribe.

  

So all winter I get to see

My Gramma who drives a Jeep and RV

I get to hug her around the neck

And she can play games with me 

My Gramma drives a Jeep,

I think that’s pretty neat.

A Sunday's Widows Woes

  One of the hardest days of the week for me as a widow has been Sunday.  Now, I love the beginning of the day, when I get the opportunity to gather with other believers and worship Jesus.  It’s what happens after church that I never like.  I go home to an empty house, and most often spend the afternoon alone.  Now, in reality, it’s no different than any other day of the week, when I’m all alone.  But the loneliness on Sunday seems lonelier. If that that’s really possible.  Maybe it’s the memories of spending Sunday afternoons and evenings with the kids and hubby, that make it worse.  

     I often call my kids to see how their week has been, which probably drives them nuts.  I really am interested in their lives, and want to know how they’ve been, and what wonderful happening are going on in their lives.  But sometimes the call is just loneliness on my part, and I want to hear another voice.  Their lives on the other hand are anything but lonely, as they are busy with their own families and jobs.  

   Sometimes I try to fill my Sunday afternoon and evening with a ‘project’ of some kind, or some activity.  But well too often for me, it’s done alone again.  Kayaking, hiking, a yard project, some art endeavor, cleaning (that’s when I run out of fun stuff to do). 

    It’s hard sometimes, but important to do, and that’s put the Word of God into action.  “This is the day that the Lord has made, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.” Is true and needs to be acted on, even if you’re lonely and all alone.  Notice, it does say to rejoice in it.  Rejoice in what?  Rejoice in the day.  Even if it’s a lonely Sunday afternoon.  Rejoice!  Not for the loneliness, but rejoice that you have this day to be alive, and a loving Lord to be there with you.  Joy is not happiness.  Joy is something way deeper.  It’s something that within you because of Jesus, not your circumstances around you.  So even in the worst of days, you can still rejoice.  Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, “Rejoice!” 

So How Was Your Day

 “So how was your day?” Is a common question asked between spouses  as they gather back home, after their day of work, and living.    The real communicative types give you the complete run down, minute by minute of the day, well others reply with a ‘fine.’   

    But for the widow living alone, she no longer has anyone to ask, ‘so how was your day?’  She longs to connect with someone, some living breathing body, just so she can tell them about her day. Nothing earth shattering, she might only tell them about the routine things she did through out the day.  But she still longs to tell.  Why?  Because she misses belonging, she misses being reassured that what she does is important to someone else.  

    She reaches for the phone and calls a friend, or maybe one of the kids, who just kind of like roll their eyes at her trivial chatter on the other end.  Nothing earth moving, just, she went to the store, she did laundry, etc, but what she’s really saying is, “I’m still living.  I’m still here, tell me I’m significant to you.”  She’s lost the one that made her feel special, important, one of a kind.   She’s wanting to still belong.

    Is she wrong in these feelings?  No.  We’re all made to belong and be part of each other’s lives.  She had that, and now it’s gone, and she struggles to know how to adjust.    

   So reach out to the widows around you, even if they’ve been a widow for a long time, as well as those who just became one.  They need to know they’re still valuable, even though their spouse is gone.  They search for significance , and are traveling down a road they’ve never been on before.  It’s a really tough, lonely road too.  So be kind.  And if you’re married, and your spouse asks you how was your day, be grateful you have someone that’s asking.  You’re both important.

Museum of Memories

Shaw farm in the early 1900's

Shaw farm house 2018

  

 I’ve spent some time in the last couple of weeks down in Mandan at my family’s farm. My Dad passed away at Easter, and my Mom has now moved into an apartment in town, as the farm is just too much work for her to take care of at 87 years old.

   My siblings had been working for days by the time I got there.  They had spent hours donned with dust masks emptying out the old rock basement of all it’s hidden treasures, some left by my grandparents, and a few by the homesteaders in the late 1880’s.  Years of setting things aside, for the next generation to find, and have to decide what has to be done with it. Sadly most of the treasures in the basement had to be tossed as moisture, and mold had taken hold and disintegration had begun.

   There were other closets that held treasures too many to tell of.  Things hidden for years, and not discovered until now.  We even found our great Grandfather’s law books in the attic from the late 1880’s.  He was one of the first lawyers and a judge  in the Dakota Territory, and was there helping North Dakota became a state.  

    My daughter showed up late on the 4th of July and spent a couple of days helping sort through things, having a few days off from her summer job in Medora.  That evening, I spent telling her stories of my childhood in this old farm house.  Showing her many treasures that triggered my memory of stories long forgotten even to me.  The treasures were wonderful to find, but sad at the same time, as it means there will be no more memories in the old house, or adventures out across the pastures and field.  Someone else will soon enjoy the beauty of this old farm, overlooking the Missouri River.  It saddens my heart that soon I won’t be heading up Highway 1806 to visit one of my favorite places on this earth.

    The last few weeks, truly have been a Museum of Memories.  That’s all we really have left of our past, memories.  I’m not dwelling there, but it was nice to visit to remember from whence I have come.  It’s wonderful to remember that I grew up in a house full of love and music, in a family that worked hard on the land as well knowing how to have times of fun.  I learned hard work will pay off if you don’t quit. I know what it’s like to get up at five a.m. and haul hay before the heat of the day makes it unbearable.  I know what a bale hook is, and how to use it in a little round bale.  My Dad being one of the last in North Dakota to use a small round baler. He finally was forced to quit when parts were no longer available.  

     I learned it’s always important to stop and enjoy life along the way.  I have memories of many Sunday afternoon times at the sandbar.  Running through hot sand and jumping into a pothole to cool off.  

    Memories become like a museum.  We see the past and what it held but we don’t live there anymore, we don’t do things the way we did as a child.  Life has changed and we grow up and move on.  There are things to remember, in our museum of memories and there are things to forget. But never forget the love, it’s the best item on display in our museum of memories, and that never gets old or out of style.

"The Box"

"THE BOX"

  I finally did it today.  

   I’ve put it off for over four years; Going through “The Box.”  

   Ever since we left South Dakota in 2008, there has been this box labeled, “Todd’s Junk.”  Full of old notebooks from College (and found one from High School!) and cattle records, sermon notes, calendars, awards, etc.  After he died, I tried a couple times to go through it, and just couldn’t.  I had dug around it in before the funeral because I thought for sure the track he had written back in 1992 was in there, and we wanted everyone to have a copy at the funeral, but I just couldn’t seem to ever get myself to sort through all those memories.

   I’m not sure what made me go through it today, I just happened to step into the guest bedroom, and saw it sitting there on the floor, and said, “Today’s the day.”  

   Some time ago, I had placed an empty plastic tub beside it, for the day that would come when I was strong enough to go through it.   I placed in it today, those things that are ‘keepers’ in the memory of Todd.  His notes from Bible College were kept, along with all his sermon notes, but the High School notebook went in the throw pile.  His large collection of maps went in the throw pile too, along with old cattle records of cows that have long ago become someones burger.

   One of the most precious items, wasn’t something that Todd had written, but I had written, but he had kept.  “The Ode to Mr. Odd”, for those that know the name, yes, this was a Keeley Rooer character skit I have done for years.  Yup, Keeley Rooer has been around for a long time (actually several years before this record).  It was written for a Valentine’s Banquet in 1990
we had here in Kenmare while we pastored Grace Christian Fellowship.  It told of the many ways I loved him, in a fashion that only Keeley can tell.  I sat crying and laughing as I read through it, and then went and read it to Kristi, proving to her how long I’ve been doing this character Keeley Rooer.  And also I closed with, “See, Kristi, I loved your Dad, very much,” to which she said, “I know.”  

   Another precious jewel, was a small record of us meeting different people, while we lived in Steele ND.  Todd had just met Terry Smokov, and they had invited us out to their house for dinner.  I love how he put it, “We just met this couple, but somehow I feel our hearts are knit together.”  Terry and Donna, I still believe this.  Getting to see you last fall, is living proof there was (and is) a friendship there. 😃  Love you guys!

    The throw away pile is too heavy for me to carry down the stairs alone, so I’ll have to wait till Kristi is home from work to get rid of the unnecessary items.  I don’t think I will be needing those old Semen catalogs, and since they’re greatly outdated, they will do no one else any good either.  But the pages of sermon notes he preached, I look forward to reading through someday.  Although, Todd’s notes were pretty sketchy. A few main thoughts and a few scriptures, but I can still hear his heart.

    Sometimes, it's really hard when all you have left is, some old notebooks, and calendars, and of course some pictures of the one you loved the most on this planet.  But I’m thankful to have loved greatly, and he loved back.  

   You were the best pard ever Todd! Miss you!

Page one of the Ode to Mr Odd

Page two

    

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.

    

     

Happiness was Knowing You

    Last week in the middle of the night, I heard a crash beside my bed. Quito had come into my room, and had knocked something over. Too groggy to check at the time, I failed to inspect till morning light arrived.  What I found was my old purple rodeo clip board case, was laying on the floor beside my bed. I'm not sure how it even had found it's way to my bedroom, (or why I still have it) but there it lay, not having a home yet in my new abode.  Curious as to if there was still anything in it, I opened up the case.  Sure enough the rodeo program from the last rodeo Tyson competed in during High School was still inside, with my various, pens, marker, extra safety pins, for those rodeo numbers that never stayed on your back. But also in the case was an out of place item.  The above drawing that I did when I was 10 years old.  I must have given it to one of my cousins for Christmas, and somehow through the years it has made it's way back to me.  

   Snoopy, he was my favorite.  I would draw Snoopy and all the Charlie Brown characters by the hour when I was that age.  I loved to draw, and especially loved cartoons.  So I would try to draw all my favorites.  During that time, I even came up with my own set of cartoon characters and comic strip.  The Higgins Family was their name. Unfortunately, I have none of those drawings in my possession any more.

    But back to Snoopy.  It was dated Dec 22, 1971, Forty-five years ago today, I had a happy moment in my life, and drew a picture for a gift to my cousin.  My cousins were my best friends growing up.  

    Today, 45 years later, is an anniversary of loosing my very very best friend ever. My cowboy-hubby Todd.  It's been three years since he crossed that veil and entered into his heavenly eternal home, while I stayed behind to figure out what I'm suppose to do in life now, without him by my side.  That empty spot is still there, though the pain somewhat lessened with time.  There isn't a day that goes by, that I don't miss him.  While to others he may be long forgotten, every day is painful reminder to me that he's gone from this present life.  My hope in healing is the knowing that I'll see him again someday, and he's in a far better place than I am right now.  

   Though I can't do the happy Snoopy dance and say, "Happiness is being with you."  I can say, "My life was richer and fuller from being with you. Happiness was knowing you!"  With that, I'm so glad I married that ole cowboy, and had all those adventures together.  We were best friends, pards, and nothing is better than that.  

   Love and miss you Todd.

Facing Fears and a Blank Canvas

Facing the blank canvas

   

   I’ve struggled most of my life with insecurity, which I think is actually intimidation and fear in disguise.  That insecurity of not doing it right or good enough, has kept me from often doing things really in my heart to do. 

   In other areas I often jump in and start doing something not having a clue as to how to do it, but knowing somehow by God’s grace I can.   Recently I met a friend at Mendards when I was buying something to fix something in my house.  I confessed I had no clue how to fix it, but I was gonna try, since I lacked anyone to help me.  My friend laughed and said, “Has not knowing how to do something ever stopped you from anything Kelley?”  I laughed and said, “I guess not.”  But fear has stopped me, in many area from even starting.

    Last year, I found a few portraits stored under Kristi’s bed that I had done in high school. Two in pointillism and one done in coffee.  In High School and College, I was a fairly good artist, but to be truthful, I’ve hardly picked up a paint brush or drawing pencil in years. I’ve done a few quick simple paintings as a sermon illustration but that’s about it.  The other day I was talking to two young girls here in Kenmare about art, and it came out of my mouth, “I’ve had a painting rolling around in my head and heart for a couple of years, but I’m afraid to pick up the brush again, what if I can’t do this anymore?”  At that moment, I identified why I put it off. I was afraid.  Afraid of failure. So one way to make sure I won’t fail is, to never start. Right? Wrong!

   Never starting because I’m afraid, is the same as failing. I’ll never succeed unless I try.  So this afternoon, I faced my fear.  Seriously I was shaking.  Can I still do this?  

   I spent the afternoon and evening at the easel first with a sketch pencil, then with a paint brush and jar of Sanka Coffee.  By the way, this is the same jar of Sanka I used in High School to do that other painting.  Price stamped on top of the jar is: $1.36.  You guessed it, I don’t get rid of things easily, especially if it’s still useful.  And this jar of Sanka was never meant to be drank, only paint with.

   My sketch wasn’t perfect, actually ended up a little ‘squatty’ looking, but I finished about 11 pm.  It is the painting I’ve imagined for the last few years.  It’s not perfect, but it is completed, and that’s the best part.

   I use to have a saying in High School and College the only thing coffee is good for is to paint with.  Tonight I found that true again.  Interesting enough, this past week, I felt strongly from the Lord, not to have any coffee to drink.  Maybe His reasoning was for my health reasons more, but in ‘fasting’ the coffee to drink, I actually found something deep within me again, my love for art and the feel of the paint brush in my hand.  I’d forgotten just how good it feels.  It’s somehow part of finding the Kelley that’s been in hiding, and too fearful to try again.

   I thank God, for this day, when I know I’m set free from that fear that’s holding me back from being who I really am.  Free to let the gift out that’s inside me. Not only in my art, but many other areas.  Cause like all gifts inside people, the gift is not for the one who carry’s it, but it’s for others.  I enjoyed painting a picture, but now others can enjoy the painting too.

   Don’t let fear hold you back from what’s inside.  Open up your heart and let the gift of God within you come out for all to see and enjoy. 

   I also found out, my sun room in my house is the most wonderfully lighted art studio one could ever wish for, well, at least till it got dark outside that is. 

Sketching the rough draft

Finished painting.  Todd and Quito.

   

Painful Reminders

   

This picture has nothing to do with this post, but we all know, no one looks at my blog without some kind of picture.  

Just saw on Facebook, a 'friend' is celebrating their 34th Anniversary, and another friend was celebrating that it was 40 years ago today that he proposed to his wife, and she said yes.  Though I rejoice with both of these friends, and celebrate their long marriages, it also comes as a painful reminder, that I don't get another anniversary, or proposal celebration.  For me, the anniversaries stopped 10 days short of 32 years, and likewise the proposal celebrations (4th of July for me).  How does one, as a widow, celebrate with my friends, yet, work through the pain in my own heart, knowing there is no more for me?  Only by the grace of God.  Each day is reminder of how I have to face it alone, without my cowboy by my side.  

    How do I make it though another major 'move' in my life, but this time without Todd?  How to I embrace this new start, knowing that it's truly is a new day, but that new day means I'm alone?   When others get to move on in life with their loved one by their side, I get to move on with only a memory.  It's these times that I run to my Father God, and cling to Him for comfort that only can give.  I know that sounds real cheesy, and 'religiously spiritual' (if that's a thing) but it's all the same true.   

   Yes, I know there are those in this world, who have chosen to be single, and enjoy it.  There are others who are single, cause they just never found their special one.  There are others who are single because they couldn't bear the pain and abuse of being together anymore.  There are those of us who are single and alone, who by no fault of our own, have found ourselves in this spot. It's just what life handed us, and we have to learn to live with it, or more correctly live without them.

    I just sometimes wonder of my happy friends who are celebrating, do they really know what they have, are they holding it precious and dear?  Are they taking advantage of their loved one, not in a mean way, but just in a familiar way?  Knowing they're always there for them?  Do they really realize how short and precious life is?  I know other widows and widowers who have come to this same realization as me, and know the heart renching pain of loosing the love of your life, and wish they could have one more day, one more talk with them.  

    Recently I ran into an old friend here in Kenmare.  Yes, old in age, and in time knowing. We went on a mission trip to Mexico together. Him and his wife and Todd and I and our boys and another couple from Kenmare, along with our missionary friends.  My old friend just lost his wife last summer.  I could see the pain of loss in his eyes.  After visiting with him, my first thought was, "Oh I can't wait to tell Todd I ran into him."  Then I realized, I can't tell Todd, cause he's not here.  I mentioned this to my daughter and made the comment, "I wonder how long I will have those thoughts?  Every time I run into someone Todd and I knew together, I think I can't wait to tell Todd." Kristi's wise reply, was "Probably will happen for a long time Mom, cause you had 32 years of always telling Dad everything."   I do believe she's right.  Those old habits are hard to break.  Communication was one of our strengths, till his ability to communicate was lost.  But that didn't mean I didn't keep trying.  I still talked to him and told him things just like I always had, hoping he could understand, wishing he could communicate back with me. 

       I guess I have no great words of wisdom, nor great comfort for those grieving too.  Life sometimes is just hard, but on the flip side, God is good, and I know He's not through with me yet.  There will be better days ahead, although they won't be lived with Todd by my side.  There will be new adventures to live, but I'll share them alone.  The Lord, has truly become my constant companion, a husband to the widow.   He is one I can always talk to, and he does bring comfort.  

      My dog is noisily snoring in the corner of my camper, the aroma of wet dog still lingering on his fur following his 'bath' today. (By the way don't say 'bath' in front of Quito, it causes him to run away.  I've taken to spelling it, so he won't know what I'm planning.  He's smart, but he doesn't know how to spell thankfully.)  He's reminding me it's late, and I should go to bed, for tomorrow is another day. 

     Blessings to your day!  

  

Treasure in a Cardboard Box

   

    Tonight I was going through the last two boxes that I never unpacked when I moved to this house over two years ago. I had opened them, but had never really gone through them and sorted out the stuff in it. Why I was doing this, I'll explain later.  

         I found a treasure of great price.  Not in monetarily value, but the kind of value that's valuable for my heart.  A note from Todd.  

 

    This is when he could still write a little bit, but you can also see, it wasn't flowing normal.  Somehow this note reminded me of the scripture in Hebrews 12:1 “Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us," HCSB‬‬

   I felt like he was cheering me on from that great cloud of witnesses, and saying, "Kelley, you have so much in you, you're an awesome person.  Go, Kelley, go!  You can do this!" 

    This is such timely encouragement, as I'm making a major life change, of location and occupation.

    You see, I was sorting through the boxes, cause I'm getting ready to start packing boxes, and moving again.  Not to totally unknown territory, but instead, back to a place that Todd and I both loved a lot, to finish what we started a long time ago.  Though, by now, I'm starting all over again, and this time without him by my side.

     This coming Saturday, Nov 14, 2015 would have been Todd's 55th birthday, the next day, I will become pastor of Alive Christian Fellowship in Kenmare, North Dakota.  Maybe it's a birthday present to him? Fulfilling the call on our lives, which now rests on my shoulders alone.  I think finding this note, was a sweet way of knowing he's cheering me on from above saying, "Kelley you can do this!  You have a lot in you.  You are an awesome person."   

    It's kind of scary venturing out on this adventure on my own.  But then again, I'm not alone, for Jesus has said he'd never leave me nor forsake me.  Recently my four year old grand-daughter said to me, "I'm not scared of my fears." She was referring to her bad dream she had had.  But her statement is profound, and full of wisdom beyond her little four year old mind would know.  I'm agreeing with her, and saying too, "I'm not scared of my fears."   If you're scared to do something, you know God wants you to do, well then just do it scared!  The fears will fade in the face of faith.

     So I am putting my lovely home up for sale, and will begin searching for housing in Kenmare too. Putting on the mantle of pastor, which I have never done alone, and moving away from family and the comforts of familiar.  The Adventures of Todd and Kelley ended when Todd moved to heaven, but the Adventures of Kelley and Jesus are just beginning.   Let the race begin!

    

     

    

The Proposal- From the Adventures of Todd and Kelley

Memories of the 4th of July 34 years ago.

   It was hot on that 4th of July in 1981 as Todd and I were visiting his Mom and Dad on the Ranch in South Dakota.  We'd been spending the summer working at Circle C Ranch volunteering as the cook and Todd was a counselor for the camps and of course always taking care of those horses.  It had been an exhausting summer, but we were young, but even the young get tired when you're burning the candle on both ends and in the middle.  Besides the cooking duties, I also helped with the music at campfires and filled in at the office when needed. Todd and I were looking forward to a couple days off and attending the Mobridge rodeo.

   Growing up my memories of the 4th of July were surrounded by family fun. After the parade in Mandan, we'd go to the river and swim in the pot holes on the sandbar. Come back to the house loaded with sand and sunburns and memories of laughter with my cousins and siblings.  My Mom and the aunts would put on a picnic spread second to none! We'd eat watermelon and burgers till we were stuffed.  This is what family was made of.  We'd end off the day with a few fireworks as our dog ran for cover and hid in a hole behind the old shop.  There was always a few ant hills that found our firecracker explosion demonstration too.  Often my Dad rushed away to put out a prairie fire because of some one's careless fireworks activity.  As Assistant Chief to the Mandan Rural Fire Department, when the siren went off, Dad left, unless of course he was already working at the Refinery.  

     These were not the memories of Todd's childhood.  I think there was the occasional river picnic time, but most often it was another work day but always quiting early to take in the Mobridge Rodeo, a long standing tradition in his family.  So this hot 4th of July was no different.  Todd and his brother Dean and his Dad worked cattle all day, after all, having Todd home for a day or two meant an extra hand available to work.  His sister Georgia finally asked me if I wanted to go down to the river (Lake Oahe which is the Missouri River) with her.  We drove down the old gravel road to a beach location along the lake/river. Georgia came home with a wonderful tan, and I came back looking a little more like a lobster.   I was a little upset with Todd, as he was working, and not taking the 'day off' and spending time with me.  I could not understand why he'd choose work over spending our one day off with me.  

    As evening rolled around, everyone was in a rush to get ready to go to the rodeo.  Todd had worn his only decent pair of jeans all day working cattle, and they were in no condition to make an appearance in public.  So he donned an old pair while I threw his good ones in the washing machine hoping to get them clean in time to see the rodeo.  The rest of the family took off for the rodeo.  As we waited for his jeans to get dry, we sat talking in the downstairs family room, the only cool spot in the house. I have to admit I was pretty upset by then.  He'd spent the whole day working, and now we were gonna be late for the rodeo.  Late! I hate being late for anything!   Although we'd been dating for about six months by then, and had talked about the possibility of getting married even to the point, Todd wanted to go that next weekend and look for a ring, there was nothing official, he had never out and out asked me to marry him.  By this time, I was thinking, this will never work, our lives and background are just too different.  I had every intention of breaking the whole relationship up that night, even though I knew God had spoken to me that Todd was the one for me.  I was very much beginning to doubt that, and was certain God had made a mistake.  So in my frustration and anger, I asked him, "Why do you even want to go pick out a ring?"  To that he replied, "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to marry this ole cowboy?"  To that I replied, "I'll pray about it."

     I sat silently praying for quite sometime, the dryer in the background still running, getting his jeans dry.  I think Todd may have broken out in a sweat about that time, but I'm not sure, it's hard to tell, when it's already hotter than blazes out, and there's no air conditioning in the house.  

     While in prayer, my heart began to soften and I began to remember all the reasons Todd and I were together.  We both had a heart after God, and although our backgrounds were very different, and personalities worlds apart, there was something when we were together, we completed each other.  Maybe with me, Todd would eventually get places on time, instead always late.  Maybe with Todd, I'd learn to not let my emotions take me on a roller coaster, and learn to be a little more even.  Maybe...

     I continued to pray.  It was during that time, the Lord showed me Todd's heart, and how much he did love me.  He was often perplexed as how to actually show it, but he really did love me.  I finally said "Yes, I'll marry you."  

     After that statement, we both just looked at each other and said, "Now what do we do?"  I think we decided maybe we should kiss to seal the deal, which we did.  Then the buzzer on the dryer went off, a stark reminder that the jeans were dry and we'd missed most of the rodeo by then.  

     No romantic proposal, no well thought out plan by Todd, but I said yes anyway.  

    Todd went in and changed jeans, and we got in his old Blue and White GMC pickup and we headed into Mobridge.  Since the rodeo was half over, we headed to the Wheel Restaurant where his sister Georgia was waitressing that night.  We sat in her section so she'd have to wait on us.  We had fun teasing her, and told her we'd missed the rodeo waiting for his jeans to get dry.    After she brought us our food, she asked if there was anything else she could get for us.  I said to her, "Yes, there is one more thing.  I was wondering if you'd be my Maid of Honor at our wedding."  Her reply was something like, "What?! Are you serious?!"  We assured her we were.  She went over to the next table to deliver their water, and accidentally knocked a glass over.  After cleaning up her accident, she came back and again asked us if were were serious.  We said yes, maybe sometime around Christmas.  She said she'd love to be my Maid of Honor, and continued on with her job.  I sure hope we left her a good tip, after upsetting her so much she knocked over the water, if not, Georgia, I owe you. 

    As we drove back to the ranch that night, Todd took me the route through the town of Glenham.  Just outside of Glenham, a big old jackrabbit jumped out in front of the pickup, and we must have chased that rabbit for over a mile, till it finally darted off into the field.  For years, whenever a jackrabbit would jump out in front of our vehicle and we'd chase it down the road till it found it's way off, Todd and I was would look at each other and say, "Remember the night we were engaged, and that rabbit by Glenham." and we'd laugh.

 ---
    It's been sometime since I've chased a rabbit down the road, as I live in town now, and there's no Todd to say, "remember the time..." today, my heart is still sad, my best friend and love is gone.  In the same breath, I'm so glad I said yes, what an adventure we had.  I miss you so much Todd.  

A Fatherless Father's Day

    Todd and the kids four years ago at one of Phil's Football games at VCSU. Must have be shortly after Kadence was born.

 How does one approach Father's Day when there's no more Father to honor.  This is a question I've been pondering.  Personally, my father is still alive, and I get to tell him face to face today how thankful I am for him.  But my own children face a Father's Day with no Father to call.  For Tyson, I would assume, his day will be filled with fun things with his own little ones, and just being a Dad, in the great way that he does.  For Phil and Kristi things are a little different.  I wish I had something from their Dad to give them, some words of advice or encouragement. But Todd wasn't much of a writer.  When he did write something it was always well written, and well thought out, and had usually taken him hours to write.  He said he was always amazed at how quickly I could write something, but he didn't always see the times, I sat struggling trying to come up with something intelligent (not sure that always happens either.)

     I wish I had the answers to all these tough questions.  I wish I had the comfort to extend to my kids and others.  My only thing I can say, is I've watched God be the father to the fatherless, and that is great comfort to me.  

     To my Dad I wish him the Happiest of Father’s Days.  He has always been and will be one awesome Dad.  Love you!  

     To my sisters-in-law and brother-in-law who face today with out their Dad (my Father-in-law) I feel your pain, but still in a different way.  He was my dad by love, not by birth.  I still miss him so much.

     To my children, I can’t say I know your pain of loosing a father, I lost my husband, and that’s a different pain.  I do know your father would be so proud of each of you, and that he loved you each so much.  Know that the real things in life a parent leaves for you are not material possessions, but the things of the heart.  I know he showed you a love for God’s Word, and taught you how to work hard (probably harder than you’ll ever work for anyone else) and how to laugh (how we all loved his laugh).  

    So those with a fatherless Father's Day, know that there is a heavenly Father, who loves you very much, and can still be there to be a father to you.

Shaw family picture in 2013. My Mom and Dad with all their kids, in laws and the two youngest grand kids, and of course Quito my dog. 

Happy Father's Day Dad!

Ambush of grief from a dictionary app

Todd and I in our 'dating years'  

We had "BIG" glasses! 

lackadaisical- adj.

1. without interest, vigor, or determination; listless; lethargic: a lackadaisical attempt.
2. lazy; indolent: a lackadaisical fellow.

     A word came up in my 'Word for the Day' dictionary app, and I was flooded with memories of Todd again.  Who would think that one word in 'Word for the Day' could ambush a person in grief.  The word seems like an unlikely word for an ambush of grief too, cause it doesn't describe Todd at all, but it reminds me of him so much.

   Todd was the first person to introduce me to this word lackadaisical.  We were talking about teachers we had in High School one time, and he was telling me about his English teacher; Miss Frankenstein (seriously, that was her name).  But Todd said she was beautiful and I believe she had been a 'queen' too (like in a Miss South Dakota or something).  He loved to tell me about what a good teacher she was and how she could really teach something so you remembered.

   When the word lackadaisical came up in their vocabulary list, she demonstrated it, but falling on the floor, and laying there lazily with a daisy.  Todd said he never forgot the meaning of the word, and neither did I, even though I was never in that class.  

   Thank you Miss Frankenstein (who later married and became Mrs. Perman) for being a good teacher and not being lackadaisical in your teaching. Todd learned it, and so did I though him.  

    A memory tied in a word, a moment of grieving, none of which was lackadaisical.

Met Mikki (Frankenstein) Perman recently at a Reuer Family Reunion.  She couldn't believe how much Philip and Kristi looked like Todd.  

    

Enough is Enough!

       I've been hit by it and I'm sure you have too, the "Not Enough" syndrome.  You know what it is, you've been 'doing' something, and the enemy comes along and says, "You didn't do enough." "It's not good enough."  Then there's people that will side with the enemy and throw it in your face, "You didn't do enough." "You didn't pray enough." "You didn't give enough." "You didn't care enough." "You didn't love enough."

       Enough is Enough!

       When is enough enough?  Who is the judge on when it's enough?  Is there a level of enough?

       Being one who lost a love one to a devastating disease, I know what's it like to be accused of not 'doing enough."  (Although those that accused me hadn't done anything themselves to help.)  When would enough been satisfied?  When I dropped over dead before Todd, from sheer exhaustion and fatigue?  Then would it been enough?  When every penny of our bank account drained, (not that there was much to drain) would that have been enough?  

        I know I'm not alone in these feelings of 'not enough' cause I've heard it from other grieving spouses.   They feel condemned that they didn't do enough, or so they feel, cause their loved one still died. I want to say to them loud and clear; You did not fail, you did everything in the natural and spiritual level, and you did not fail!  

        The accusers of "Not Enough" are siding with the devil who comes to steal, kill and destroy.  The "Not Enough" always wants to take more, it wants to destroy you, it wants to kill you.  But the good news is, God has come to give life, and he's the God that's more than enough, He is El Shaddai.  And you see, that same God lives in me, so I have the "more than enough" inside me.  

        The definition of "Enough" is: adequate for the want or need; sufficient for the purpose or to satisfy desire. 

        God is the one that's enough for our every need.  He's adequate for our every need, and sufficient for the purpse, and can satisfy our every desire.  Actually He's more than enough, that's what El Shaddai means (one of the redemptive names of God).

         So we know God is 'enough,' but what about us?  Am I enough?  

         Last night Kristi and I went to a Bible Study by John Bevere on "Breaking Intimidation."  It was only the first night, and it was excellent!  I love the quote on the flyer for the class; "Say "NO" without feeling guilty, be secure without the approval of man."  I especially like the 'be secure without the approval of man' part, cause I've fought that insecurity, feeling worthless thing for years, which ties right in with 'you'll never be good enough, you'll never be ____ enough.'  Just fill in the blank, it's there.  

         It's what Kristi said to me on the way home, that shook my inner being. As my sweet wise daughter said to me, "No one is better at what you do, than you Mom."  I immediately started to say, "Oh lots of people do better at what I do than me..." when suddenly I caught what she was saying!  No one on this green earth can do Kelley Grace better than me!!  I'm the only me there is, and who I am and how I live my life is the best that will be of me.  I am enough!  I don't have to try to be like anyone else, cause God didn't make me anyone else, he made me me.  

         I love it when my kids speak volumes into my life. And this 'volume' comes from a girl that is so comfortable in her own skin.  She does not care what others think of her, she is so herself, and I love that about her.   

         It's enough to say, my enough was enough for Todd, cause it's all that I had.  All I did for Todd was enough, cause it's all the enough I had.  I loved and cared for him with every fiber of my being.  I did in the natural and spiritual everything I knew to do, and felt God tell me to do.  If you don't believe that, then I'd say, you weren't around to see it.  My enough was enough, cause I gave all I had.

         Enough is enough!

    

Be Real

When life seems crazy and you find yourself needing a good dry cleaning, and you get stuck in the dryer.
Life just needs to get real.

    Yesterday the phrase, "Be Real" was rolling around in my head.  We live in a such an unreal world.  Pictures are photo shopped to look perfect, music recorded is adjusted in the studio to 'sound better.' If you don't believe that, just hear your favorite band live someday.  Videos are edited and the movie industry has all kinds of 'trick' photography. 

   When we get down to life, we're not much different than the rest of the world. People walk around with their masks on pretending that they are so much better than they really are.  Sometimes cause they just don't want to face what they're going through, and sometimes because they don't want anyone else to know that they're hurting.  I think that's when pride enters in.

  It's not that one should walk around with their dirty laundry exposed for everyone to see, but there are times and places you need to just get real.  Quit playing the game, and be real and honest.  Oh human nature doesn't like to be honest, cause then it might show that we're not perfect.  No one is perfect.  (Except Jesus)  The rest of us, are what is called, human, full of faults and failings.  

   But thank God we have Jesus to help us through all those faults and failings.

   I heard on the radio yesterday a young lady, who is a Christian singer, get real. She's made fame with her music in the Christian world, but from what she said on the interview, things were falling apart at home.  She said, her and her husband decided to get real, and begin to share that things weren't going well, they got help.  She didn't share any details, and I don't need to know, but it sounded though things might not be perfect, they're on the road to recovery.  She said since they've opened up other couples have come to them, confessing that they're falling apart at home too.  Being real, has allowed her and her husband to help others get real, and get help. Christianity is not the great cover-up but the great unveiling.  It's when God starts pulling back the layers in our life, to expose those things that need correction.  It's the unfolding of His grace.  Taking what is awful and making it into something beautiful.  God has a way of doing that.

    Just like when you peel an onion pulling back those layers can cause tears.  Tears can wash though.  In Grief Share, I learned the phrase, "Tears give you a good washing, and laughter a good dry cleaning."  We need them both.  There are just some areas that crying over it won't help any more, so you might as well laugh.

   Some time ago, Kristi (my daughter) and I were talking, and she said, "Mom, I can't write like you."  I was like, "What?"  For I think Kristi's writing ability has far succeeded mine.  (If you haven't read what she's written you need to check out her postings on: www.fanfiction.net and search under writer as: lotrlover16. Her stories all called "The L and L Adventures.")  She said, "Mom, I can't bear my heart for the whole world to see, like you do."  I had to stop and think, is that what I do?  I've been accused by some, of being too open, by another of writing because I'm trying to ease my guilty conscience.  

     Well, I don't have a guilty conscience, and maybe I'm a little too open, but I kind of feel, if I've walked a road of pain and suffering (of a sort) then maybe what I've gone through, can help someone else.  The key word there is gone "through."   I'm not stopping in my pain and grief, I'm going on.  In one of the most familiar verses in the Bible, Psalms 23 is says, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff they comfort me."   I'm going through, I'm not stopping and setting up a tent in the valley of death.  

     Being real:  There were days I didn't think I'd get through.  I thought I'd die with Todd.  There were times, I thought I'd die before him of sheer exhaustion from the constant care of him.  I saw no hope, I saw no ray of sunshine.  I know what it is to be rock bottom.  But when I hit the bottom, I found there was the Rock, and the rock's name was Jesus.  Oh, I knew Him before, but I know Him in a whole new way now.   Am I perfect?  Oh, no!  (Did you just hear the roar of laughter?  I'm picking myself up off the floor from laughing at the thought of being 'perfect.')  But I am a little bit stronger now.  I think it's like weight lifting (not that I've ever done that) the weights are heavy, and your muscles get sore and tired, but the end result is you get stronger.  I believe your muscles even 'break down' in the process, and have to be 'rebuilt.' It's a new strength you didn't have before going through all the pain of lifting.

     I haven't arrived, but I am going through.  I'm so glad He's with me every step of the way.

     Today marks 16 months since Todd moved to heaven.  It's another one of those 'landmarks' days.  In some ways it doesn't seem that long, in others it seems even longer, funny how time is like that.  In the past 16 months, this scripture from The Message translation has been an anchor in my soul.   "So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There's far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can't see now will last forever." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 MSG