Yesterday was very strange.  My son’s class of 4th, 5th, & 6th graders (all 10 of them this year) held their annual Thanksgiving Widow’s luncheon.  There were 30+ widows and widowers in attendance.  Each student hosted a table and that student was in charge of caring for the needs of the guests at his/her table.  It was so sweet to watch these energetic children, in their Sunday dress clothes, carefully delivering cups of coffee, plates of turkey with all the fixings and finally dessert.  After dessert was served it was time for Bingo.  The prizes ranged from home-made pies and breads to farm fresh eggs, hand crocheted lap blankets and cross book marks to hand sewn pillows.  What a wonderful day.

Normally I would be in the kitchen with an apron on, helping in whatever way I could.  Today however, I was a guest.  My W2Y compadres  weren’t there with me, they had to work.  But I know that, had they been there they would have felt the same thing that I was feeling.  Where do I fit in?  My son was so happy that he could invite me to the luncheon.  I was so not happy to be sitting there with a room full of senior citizens as the lone 40-something widow.   For the most part I’ve gotten over feeling like there’s a neon sign flashing over my head “W*I*D*O*W”, but today the sign was back.  Just to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten that I’m a W*I*D*O*W, I got a call for Larry from a hospital later when I got home about an overdue bill.  The sarcastic side of me really wanted to say, “I’m sorry, you guys failed… you’re not getting paid!” Not the answer my Heavenly Father would approve of.  Another answer I wanted to give them was, “Get in line, I’ve got medical bills of Larry’s that are older than yours that I’m still working on”.  Better, but still not the answer God would want me to give them.  I told them something to the effect of, “I will be paying it.  I’m working on his other medical bills, the ones that are older, as best I can”.  Joy Joy Joy.  All I want for Christmas is no more medical bills.  I’d ask for no more bills, but that’s probably a bit too much to ask for.  :-}

So where do we fit in?  The W2Y Club… Widows 2 Young?  We don’t fit in with the elderly widows, our challenges are different.  Single mothers raising kids who are grieving the loss of their fathers, for one.  I can’t even wrap my mind around the word “widow” and apply it to myself.  Amy, Bonnie, Robin & Sarah – fellow members of the club –  know what I mean.  That word feels like a burden, a lead weight that we have to carry with us.  It weighs us down like a jacket and boots made of wet sand, dead weight that we must drag with us as we maneuver this obstacle course called grief.   I hate titles, and W*I*D*O*W has to be one of the worst.  “Hello, I’m a widow.  I was once loved, but the man who I loved and who loved me back is dead now, and I am all alone.  Yes, I’m alone and pathetic.  Nobody loves anymore.  The day will come when I will wake up on Christmas morning all alone and hope that one of my children invited me to come for dinner. ”  Oh goody! Yes I’m very good at feeling sorry for myself.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow.  What am I thankful for?

1.  That I survived the first year without being institutionalized!

2. That my Heavenly Father loves me so much He lets me rant and rave at Him and He still picks up the pieces and puts me back together.

3.  That Jesus Christ loves me so much He gave up his life for me, and rose again so that I can be clean and acceptable for eternal life in heaven.  And even though there is no marriage in heaven, I will still be reunited with Larry in God’s eternal family as brother and sister in Christ.

4.  That I’m privileged to be the mother of 4 amazingly incredible sons who blow me away every day.  They are growing in to men that keep me saying, “Wow God, did you see that?”  Very humbling to see your babies grow up to be real men of Godly integrity, in spite of all the mistakes you’ve made.

5. The support of family and friends.  You know who you are!!

6. My house is paid off and so is my car.

7.  14 1/2 YEARS OF NEARLY PERFECT MARRIED LIFE WITH A PERFECT HUSBAND – LARRY BRANDON!!!!

Intense grief will, at times, require some sort of self “medication”.  Not real medication in the sense of prescription drugs, but something that will numb the pain.  Something that the brain can turn to where the pain isn’t present.  For some this is alcohol.  For others this might be gambling.  For most though, there are other “sedatives”, more socially acceptable, but potentially just as destructive.

My painkillers took on two forms, both involving my computer.  The first form was Facebook games, such as Farmville, Yoville, Frontierville, pet society… anything where I could create nice, tidy little worlds where every thing was in its place.  I was dedicated to harvesting my crops on time and making sure that my farms were the best ones.  I had the best houses, the best decorations, the best equipment.  Everything in my Facebook game worlds was Perfect!  Exactly the opposite of my life, where I had fallen off my wall and was still waiting for the Kings horses and men to come put me back together.  Still waiting on that one.

My second form of computerized self-medication was internet shopping.  My husband had left me with a pretty good life insurance policy and I was already pretty good at shopping.  We used to have a running joke that the numbers we had memorized showed our priorities.  Larry had his Driver License number memorized.  I had my credit card number memorized.  Shopping problem?…. yup.  Shopping problem and grief, … not a good mix.  So you take a grieving internet shopaholic, who has nowhere to go during the day and feels the need to fill the void in her life…  Did I mention QVC yet?

Ok, so as the empty boxes started to pile up, and I ran out of places to put all of this new “stuff” that was supposed to fill the empty places in my heart, my stress level went up as well.  My house was becoming a pit of chaos.  The more chaotic the mess became the more I retreated into the Farmville type games.

I tried to tell myself that the games were harmless, that I wasn’t hurting anyone.  I’m not sure when God pointed out to me that I was hurting someone, two someones.  I was hurting myself and I was hurting Noah.  I was drowning my sorrow and numbing my pain in addictive stimuli that were as damaging as alcohol and gambling, just more socially acceptable.  I didn’t want to stop playing the games when Noah came home.  Noah needed me, but I had nothing left to be needed with.  All I could do was lose myself in the make-believe world of neat and tidy.  I couldn’t face the messy reality of a new life that I had not chosen.

I had no idea what to do with myself outside of my old life.  For 14 1/2 years I had been Larry’s wife.  That was the center of my world, my focus.  We worked together, parented together, worshiped together, and for the last year my world had been completely consumed with caring for Larry, searching for a possible cure for his brain cancer.  Suddenly the center of my life was gone, torn from my side.   And so I planted myself on the couch and ran away to tidy little cartoon worlds inside my computer.  And shopped.  And shopped.  Ad nauseum.

It’s Christmas  now.  Our second Christmas without Larry.  I’m happy to report that Farmville has been taken over by Noah, when he feels like it.  Crops don’t always get harvested, or planted.  I don’t care, because I don’t play anymore.  I don’t play any of the “ville” games.  The shopping has been severely curtailed!!  Not totally cured.  I have however closed the credit card account that I had memorized.  (thank you Dave Ramsey).

Christmas will be leaner this year, but it’s not about the gifts.  It’s not about who isn’t here.  It is about Who he is with.  The One who guided me out of the numbing sedatives of online shopping and Facebook games.  The One who is daily guiding me back toward the peace that carried Larry and I through the valley of his cancer.  Peace that can carry me through the valley of grief.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.  Not through Visa who charges me, or Facebook games that just consume my time.  Christ is my refuge and my strength.

© Copyright 2010 Shelley A Brandon

suggested reading:     A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Henry David Thoreau said,”If misery loves company, misery has company enough.”

I’m not sure that misery does love company. My misery does not. My misery loves solitude. I love to make fun of the old Hee Haw song. “Gloom, despair, and agony on me, Aaaaah. Deep, dark depressioning sense of misery, Aaaaah. If it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all, Aaaaah. Gloom, despair, and agony on me!”

And yet, if we can, in our pain, reach out to someone else – another human being who has or is experiencing our pain – we may begin to find something other than pain. We may begin to find joy.

There was a night at the Cancer Clinic that was the best night we’d had there. One of the best nights we’d had anywhere, ever. And the only miserable part about it was that we could have been having nights like that for 3 weeks, but in our self inflicted retreat, in our pity party, we missed out on the joy.

That night we had dinner with Liz and Gary to celebrate their home-going. Liz’s sonogram showed a tumor that had originally swelled – like Larry’s – and had shrunk so much as to amaze even the doctors!!! Amen to answered prayer! We were joined by Angela and Bob. Bob was there for treatments as well, and he was a fount of information. They were going home the next day as well. Wonderful friends that we’ve missed out on a week of – and they were just down the hall from us, 2 doors. Also at the table were the darling couple from Ireland, Mary and Padraic. I could listen to them for hours, their accent is musical. Even their light-hearted bantering was a ballad to my ears. Padraic had a rough go of it, but he was ready to go home in  week or so. We would get to enjoy them for a few more days yet.   And Peter, from Holland, whose wife was bedridden.  Lizzy was fighting bone cancer.  Peter would drive from Holland to Germany to be with her every other week and then back again to work for a week.

As we all shared our stories of pain and “misery”, our dissatisfaction with the medical treatments available to us in our own countries, and our determination to achieve healing for the ones we love so dearly….. misery didn’t join company. Pain found strength in company, struggles shared became a bond, and friendship bubbled up in laughter. We found joy. Brought together in the common bond of searching for the treatments that would bring our bodies back to the power God created them to have. The power to fight off diseases. In the midst of what should be sorrow and fear, we found joy, strength and friendship.

We shared and laughed until the dining room closed down. Then we moved to the living room area, a room I’d never seen used before. We rearranged the furniture to have enough room for all of us to sit and stayed until eyelids began to droop. Much like children around a campfire, we’d found a common ground and the moment was too precious let go.

There are 310,612,207 people in the U.S. according to the last census, and 6,878,804,870 in the world; and yet with all those people so many of us still feel so very alone, so very lonely.

If misery loves company, then may that company find great joy in the common ground shared.

Job 8:21
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.

Psalm 126:2
Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, “The LORD has done great things for them.”

Jim Croce sang, “If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do… is to save every day til eternity passes away just to spend them with you.”

PSALM 56:8 tells us God “collects all of our tears in a bottle and recorded each one in your book.”

Both of these bottles have something very intense in common… love … and sorrow.

When someone you love has been torn from your life, whether or not age has anything to do with it, our broken hearts long to go back and collect every moment we have ever spent with that precious person and relive it.   Bottle it.  Relive it.  Bottle it.  Never have to lose it again.  With today’s technology we are able to relive many of our happiest memories on DVD’s and in Scrapbooks.  What a precious gift this is, especially to our children who so easily forget the nuances of our loved ones who have passed on while they are so young.  The danger of this technology lies in never wanting to move beyond reliving the memories.   Bottled memories are wonderful, but we must not pour ourselves into the bottle with them.

The Comforter reminds us in Psalms that He loves us so much, He collects each and every tear we cry and puts them in a bottle, our bottle.  Some day, when it is our turn to be called home, we will see our bottle.  Not all of our tears will be sad, there will also be sparkling tears of joy and laughter in our bottle, causing it to glow with the full light of Christ’s love.

God is our source of comfort and joy.  We can find joy again when we lean wholly on Him, and allow our tears and the memories of time to be kept in a heavenly bottles.

Why Not Me?

By Shelley Ann Brandon on September 8, 2010

I miss you more than anyone can see

And in my brokenness I cry “Why me?”

Why me God?  What didn’t I do? This isn’t what was supposed to be!

Oh dear Lord, what went wrong? Why God? Why me?

Why did I lose the one I loved, this one I held so dear?

Whose breath was mine and pulse was mine, this one who forever should to me be near,

Why God? Why?………… Why me?

This shouldn’t be happening to me!

But, why not me?

What makes me more significant than these?

What of the grandparents who daily attend

The tiny stone-less grave of their infant grandson, who even in their grief do bend

To water plants at my beloved’s grave, and call to check on me.

Why me?  Why not me?  Why them?

Why not me?

What makes me better, one who should be exempt from pain,

Than the man who humbly stands in line, head down to hide his shame

Job lost, home and family gone… was this his choice in life to make

Am I better than he Lord that my life should know nothing but gain?

Why me?  Why him?

Why not me?

Who am I except by accident of birth

Better off than the African mother on the other side of the earth

Who daily watches her babies from starvation die

And can do nothing but hold them as tears fall from her helpless eyes

Who am I Lord, who am I?

My aching heart begs again to cry out “Why me?”

But my memories of you Love are too strong to let that be

You, who never once asked, “Why me?”

Whose only request of God instead

Was, “Use me Lord, I am not dead”

And “I know that you are not finished yet with me.  Use me Lord”

Please use me.