The Fire

Today is Super Bowl Sunday.   Last year on Super Bowl Sunday, we went to a party at the neighbor’s house in Nicaragua.   We didn’t really know anyone, which meant it was out of both of our comfort zones, but even more for Jon, but we went!   We were the newbies in a foreign country and knew we must do things like this to make friends and start to find our place.   It ended up being a really fun night.   We had some good food, great conversation and even shared a special moment at one point during the half time show.   I remember it like it was yesterday.   But it wasn’t yesterday, it was a year ago.   For the past almost 10 months, ever day has been about what was going on a year ago…how the landscape of life can look so vastly different in just one year.   The past few days I have struggled….struggled hard with depression, lack of motivation, sadness, anger and an overall sense of the unfairness of life.   Mind you, this is not me ...

Jon has been gone from this earth for 9 months and 19 days, and yesterday, for the first time in 9 months and 19 days, I did not cry.   It didn’t strike me until this evening.   After lying on the couch all day resting and battling a virus, I needed to run to the store.   As I was walking into the store through the bakery section, I saw a carrot cake, Jon’s favorite.   I stopped for a second and thought about all the times we had carrot cake together.   I pictured one of the restaurants, the shirt he was wearing, the occasion (his birthday) and began to get a little choked up when suddenly I realized that I hadn’t cried at all for almost 2 days.   It’s weird because I don’t walk around in a gray cloud or anything, but every single day there has been, at a bare minimum, a brief thought or a memory that brings the tears.   I had shed tears for my love, for my loss, every single day for 9 months and 17 days and then suddenly it happened, I had a day wi...

About 8 years ago, I gave Jon a book for his 44th birthday.   I had written in it 44 memories and 44 things I loved about him.   It was his favorite gift.   He opened it, read it and cried.   He really hated crying in front of me, but he had such a soft heart.   He kept the book in the top drawer of his nightstand and would look back at it from time to time.   I wanted to do something similar as a Christmas gift to him this year, but I just couldn’t get in the right place to sit down and write. So, I’m hoping the “better late than never” rule still applies.   Let’s call it, “Everything He Did Right” (in no particular order).   This is for you, Jon. He Gave Real Hugs. -   Jon knew how to hug.   He didn’t just wrap his arms around me and squeeze tightly, there was mental and emotional intent in his action and I could feel it.   It was like his hugs went all the way through me.   I could feel his heart and his spirit.  ...

As usual I was awake from 2:00 -5:00 am last night (this morning?...whatever).  My insomnia usually comes with a narrative and this is what struck me in the wee hours of this morning.  It doesn't really fit with the rest of the writings in this blog, so I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I felt like writing, so here it is.  Consider this the random thought that occurs in the middle of conversation with your good friend.  By now we're close enough that we don't really have to stick to a theme or agenda, right?   My life is not perfect.   But I’m fine with that!   Truth is, I’m so over the “my life is perfect” social media image people are selling.   You see it - the flawless selfies, the 2 1/2 kids poised perfectly on an antique sofa in the middle of a field of poppies, the school lunches with dolphin shaped sandwiches, the new white picket fence homes being built, the Christmas trees that look like they came out of Better Homes ...

I was sitting in my counselor’s office and describing the frustrating feeling of being lost in this world, not feeling like myself anymore, not knowing how to begin most days.   I was explaining to him that the Jennifer I relied on before doesn’t seem to exist anymore.   The Jennifer that handled business, loved being everyone’s cheerleader, loved a challenge, was constantly creating, laughing and singing…the Jennifer that worked hard, that knew how to parent (or at least tried!), that wanted to be fit and sometimes even ate healthy and worked out, the Jennifer who was articulate and could debate and argue with the best of them, she is lost.   This new Jennifer is tired, doesn’t feel motivated or energized, has no self confidence, feels anxious about lots of things, fumbles around for words, and though it’s hard to imagine, is even more disorganized than before.   It's like PTSD . For me, it is as though someone exchanged my 100 watt bulb for a 15 watt bulb and it’s...

It’s time to write.   The 6th month anniversary of Jon’s death came and went and I could not write. I tried, I thought about it, but I could not gather my thoughts and so I took that as a sign the Holy Spirit was saying, “not yet.”   I don’t feel the need to write just to hear myself talk (or think).   It is only cathartic for me to write if there is purpose in what I have to say.   I have said from the beginning that the purpose of cataloging my thoughts here is that I/we may SEE what GOD IS DOING, not simply what I am feeling.   What I am feeling is of no consequence unless God is in it.   Believe me, I feel LOTS…all the time.   Still not a day goes by that the tears do not find me, and many that bring screams and wailing cries from my knees.   In all of this, God is faithful.   He is gently instructing me and wooing me and I am learning to depend on my loving, gracious God more than ever….not spiritual platitudes, but actually depending o...

The Road to Playa Majagual When Jon and I first traveled to Nicaragua last January, Playa Majagual was the second beach we saw.  We had no idea where we were going as we headed off down a bumpy dirt road through the jungle.  Eventually the trees thinned and we looked ahead toward an open expanse at one of the most serene beaches I had ever seen.  It appeared as though we were the only two people there.  How could this beautiful paradise exist and not be running over with tourists and beach goers?  We walked along the sand watching the waves - they were HUGE and way too scary for me, but Jon of course couldn't resist!  I sat on the shore and watched him play like a kid in the ocean.  After awhile we found our way to a little shack on the beach which served cold drinks and yummy food cooked on the grill.  It was the perfect day.  It was the first time we both said we could see ourselves living here. The next day, even though there were ...