Sometimes Grace is a Firefly

May 27th, the 46th day without my love by my side.  I don't have a plan as I sit here and begin to write, but I pray the words that flow out of this entry will be real, accurately depicting the journey and real, accurately depicting God's faithfulness to us.  We must dive into the depth of the heartbreak to experience the magnitude of God's comfort.

So many things have transpired in the last 3 weeks.  McCartney and I returned to Nicaragua.  My sister joined us on the return to soften the impact of our arrival here and to be here to pick up the pieces when we fell apart.  We (and when I say we, it's now a reference to me and McCartney because she is the other half of my duo, and I am the other half of hers) have not fallen apart, but things have not been what we expected either.

At the airport on the morning of our departure, we walked up to our gate, the same gate where Jon, McCartney and I had sat only a few weeks prior.  My eyes welled up with tears and I had to take a walk and find a stall where I could let them stream down my face.  Dear God, whyyyyy?  How am I going to do this without him?  On our flight, I tried not to cry, but as the plane took off I couldn't help myself.  I sat with my eyes closed, facing forward and tears silently streaming down my face.  McCartney and Lauri and I were not sitting together and the gentleman next to me had his headphones on and eyes closed, so I thought no one noticed.  I didn't want to make a scene or invite any attention at all.  The steward serving us was a pleasant-faced, older hispanic gentleman who was exceptionally kind and attentive.  At one point I got up to use the restroom and he said, "are you ok?  I noticed you crying earlier."  I just told him that my husband passed away a few weeks ago and this was our first trip back to Nicaragua without him.  He went on to tell me how sorry he was and asked me about our life.  He shared that his wife had cancer and he understood how important it is to treasure your time together.  He came by my chair several times to check on me and as we departed the aircraft, he handed me a big bottle of water and said, "From the bottom of my heart, God bless you."  Only God knows how much that meant to me.  Upon landing and stepping off the plane, McCartney and I inhaled the Nicaraguan air, looked at each other and simultaneously grinned,  "feels like home."  It was odd, but somehow the warm air, the simplicity, the people greeting us as we stepped off the plane, even the feel of the airport itself, it all felt like home.

When we finally arrived back at our house, it was hours before the tears came.  As I unloaded the 9 suitcases from the car (yes, 9!), hauled in a queen size mattress we had purchased at Price Smart and strapped to the top of our car Nica style, swept out bugs and dirt, moved all the outdoor furniture from the garage back to the porch, and did all the stuff that would have been "Jon's job," the sadness was turning to anger.  You have GOT to be kidding me?  You left me with all of this?  This house, this move, this country was OUR DREAM.  We were a TEAM!  You were my PARTNER!  I avoided our room.  I avoided our closet.  I just continued sweeping and cursing under my breath.  Sunset came.  I watched.  No tears.  After I could avoid it no longer, I entered the bedroom, stood in the doorway and stared at our bed in disbelief.  God, are you punishing me for something?  I cannot possibly do a lifetime of this.  Tears.

While Lauri was here with us we did practical things, some fun things and some hard things and we sweat - a lot!  I wanted to show her our beautiful country, but frankly didn't really have the energy most of the time.  It's ok.  She wasn't expecting it.  We did make a trip to Laguna Apoyo.  Interestingly enough, Apoyo means support, rest, favor, backup, upholder.  I did not know this before that trip, which was both horrible and cathartic.  I kayaked to the center of the perfectly still lagoon and cried my eyes out, audibly sobbed and even screamed while listening to John Mayer's "Dreaming with a Broken Heart."  If you haven't heard it, go listen to it right now!  Here are the lyrics (I've taken the liberty to change the "she's" to he's):

When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The waking up is the hardest part

You roll out of bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was he really here
Is he standing in my room?

No, he's not
'Cause he's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

When you're dreaming with a broken heart,
The giving up is the hardest part

He takes you in with his crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering, could you stay, my love?
Will you wake up by my side?

No, he can't
'Cause he's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands?
Would you get them if I did?

No, you won't
'Cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

When you're dreaming with a broken heart,

The waking up is the hardest part.

After we got back to the hotel, I wrote Jon a letter.

      Being in a beautiful place that would normally feel like heaven, feels like hell without you.  I kayaked out tot the middle of Apoyo and cried my eyes out while listening to "Dreaming with a Broken Heart." It was just me - in the middle of this beautiful lagoon - a stark contrast to our life of oneness and togetherness.  Will the sadness ever depart?  I doubt it.  It occurred to me today that my best days are now behind me, whereas up to this point, they have always been in my future.  I mean, even 6 weeks ago I would have said "my best days are ahead of me."  Huh.  No thoughts about this, just a realization.  I see loneliness ahead.  It feels like a wrecking ball to my heart, but at the same time, I don't want anyone else.  So it isn't SIMPLY loneliness - it is "without-you-ness".  By the way, you were wrong about some things.  My feelings are hurt by those who have simply disappeared because "they can't handle it," but at the same time, who needs them?  No one can fill this hole.  I was reading your cards and noticed that you always said, "life without you would be no life at all."  Exactly.  I can't believe that you left me here.  All abilities fail me in this space.  The only thing I am able to feel here is pain, torment, ache, loss.  This is my hell.  YOU are in HEAVEN and have LEFT ME to experience absolute HELL.....but I am not angry with you.  I can't be angry because it was not YOU who chose to leave.   I only have LOVE for you, and I ache with my whole body and soul to be with you again.  Please, Jesus, take me out of this hell.

My apologies if that is too REAL for anyone.  (this is where I should insert #sorrynotsorry) . If all we do is close our eyes when the darkness falls, we miss the moon and the stars and the fireflies.  We must experience the darkness to experience the beauty of the light.  So, I am not sorry for diving into the darkness because my plan here is to see God's glory and to fully experience God's ultimate healing and grace.   It comes.

His grace has come in some beautiful ways these past couple of weeks - a firefly who shows up every evening on my back porch, has been in my room a couple of times and even stayed on the window above my bed one night when I was afraid.  I've chronicled his appearances on Facebook if you want to see the little guy.  It has come through new friends who extended kindness, invited us to yoga and breakfast and dinner and toasted my husband as we sat down at the table, friends who have shared wine on my back porch and not been afraid to talk about my Jon and ask how we were doing.  I have found that when I open my heart to His new mercies, when I acknowledge them and am thankful, the load lightens a bit and the road brightens a bit.

I have more to write, but my heavens, this is already too long!  If you've made it to the end of this entry, congratulations!  You are either a real friend, don't have much to do today, or maybe you're someone who can relate to the heartache and is searching for hope.  I don't have answers, but I can tell you this - God is everything He said He would be.  You can trust Him completely.  That's the only thing I really know right now.....oh, and sometimes grace is a firefly.