Category Archives: memory

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Your Story

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Recently, a friend commented while watching a man riding his bike through the traffic “I wonder what his story is?” We all have a story. And, there is someone in the world that can benefit from your story. You just have to be willing to share it.

I used to believe that I had a very boring story. I grew up in a happy and content family. My parents were living examples of “til death do you part.” My siblings and I got along. My parents were known as the “cool parents.” I grew up in church and became a Christian when I was 10 years old. I graduated from high school at the top of my class and had the pick of which university I wanted to attend. I chose a small east Texsas college and graduated in 4 years. Never a big partier, I was involved with the Baptist Student Ministry and travelled on weekends to sing at churches in the area. I had a job offer that I accepted before I finished my senior year. As I moved on into adulthood, I lived a kind of charmed life. So, when I was asked to share my story, I did it with little excitement and maybe a bit apologetically.

As I matured, I realized that there were people that found value in my story. Even my boring story was important to someone. As a heart-broken single adult, a new bride, an expectant mom or a tired parent, I could share my experiences. This caused others to share their own stories and we built community together on those experiences.

But the true value of sharing my story has become most evident recently. For my story of a charmed life has taken a new twist. Grief has painted a different patina on my view of life. Things that were once boring are now priceless. I’ve learned not to take the ordinary for granted, because it is often the ordinary that becomes extraordinary in every day life. My story is one of brokenness and survival. It’s a story of God’s continuing blessings in a dark and horrible time. And as I tell my story and listen to the stories around me, my heart heals a little more.

Every story is important. Every story needs to be heard. What’s your story?

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I Confess

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I’m a widow. This is my confession.

I don’t want to go to restaurants alone. It’s almost like I have a sign on my forehead that says “She’s all by herself.” I have done it, but I feel like I’m wasting valuable space.

Sometimes, I get take out and eat it in my car. In my driveway. I just don’t want to go into an empty house and eat alone.

Cheese and crackers are just fine for lunch and dinner and even breakfast. Chips and dip or Raisin Bran are also acceptable.

I sleep in my recliner most nights. I hate crawling into my bed all by myself. Too many memories.

I keep the TV on 24 hours a day. It keeps me company, and it muffles the outside noises. It helps make the house feel less empty, a little less lonely.

I talk to the TV. And the dogs. And myself. A LOT!

When I’m all by myself and I don’t have to get up and get dressed, I don’t. I’ve spent entire weekends sleeping just because I don’t want to get out.

I buy Peeps marshmallow chicks and bunnies every spring. Sometimes I get a box in every color.

I don’t like Peeps. Terry did.

Seeing couples around my age holding hands and just enjoying time together still makes me cry and a little jealous.

I still get mad at my husband and yell at him on occasion. I don’t think I forgiven him for dying, yet.

I still miss the other half of my couple.

I always will.

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Today

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There are things I miss:

Your smile and your laugh.

Falling into your arms for a reassuring embrace when things aren’t going that well.

Knowing that there’s always someone on my side, even if I’m wrong.

Feeling beautiful and loved just because you say so.

Unplanned date nights, just because.

Snuggling on the sofa watching television with you thee to tell me what I missed when I fall asleep.

Late night talks and dreaming and planning and wondering what tomorrow will bring.

I have become accustomed to missing all of theses things on most days. But not today.

Today my heart hurts and my tears flow freely. And the ache feels fresh and new.

I will count my blessings. I will look to tomorrow and dream of what is to come.

But today, there are things that I miss.

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Eights Years Later

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A close friend asked me this weekend if Valentine’s Day was any easier eight years after losing my husband. Without much thought, I answered “No.” After some thought, I think I will amend or at least explain my answer.

Valentine’s Day (although very commercial) is the day we celebrate love. In my ideal world, it’s the day of hand-written notes and super gooey expressions of love. It’s an excuse to go all out to tell someone that they’re special and loved. Now, Terry was not a super romantic. He tried, and he had his moments, but it was work for him. He was under the (mistaken) impression that one box of cheap candy from Wal-greens was enough for the whole family on Valentine’s Day. He did find ways to make it a day of special remembrances. I still have the last Valentine’s card he gave me. It’s silly and I cherish it.

The first few years after Terry died, I HATED February 14. It was a reminder of everything I had lost, the life that was stolen from me. Terry made me laugh and cry. He made me angry and helped me to calm down. He loved me deeply and completely. He was my confidante and my co-conspirator. He was always there, always ready. We shared our biggest dreams, our deepest fears, our greatest hopes. How do I “get over” losing that one person that was such a huge part of my world? I never will.

This year, eight years later, I don’t say that “I Hate” February 14. The day is not as crippling to me as it has been in the past. But, I still mourn what I’ve lost. I confess that I look around at the roses being delivered to the office and I am envious. I miss being special and having a special someone to shower with love and silly gifts and cards. I would like to have one of those special Valentine’s Day dinners with someone other than one of my kids. I wonder as I look at couples if they really understand how wonderful it is to be a couple. Do they just take it all for granted?

So, my answer is remains “No.” I close my eyes and try to return to those days when I was cherished. I try to remember feeling safe and loved and special. I give thanks for the love I did know. And, on those dark days that still overtake me on occasion, I ask “Why?” No, it’s not any easier after eight years.

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Thankful

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Tonight I was the entertainment at a Valentine’s Party. I was asked to do about an hour and a half of romantic music. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve done this kind of music. Did I tell you I was asked on Wednesday evening?

I has to find music that I could play and sing. That’s no easy task in today’s world. You can’t just walk into a music store and find a huge selection of piano music. And love songs are even harder to find. But, I did find some show tunes and several wedding books of love songs that would work.

I was the only ‘single’ person there. As I sang “When I Fall in Love,” I wondered if these couples realized how blessed they are to have each other. Thoughts of those first days of marriage flew through my mind during “We’ve Only Just Begun.” And I silently thanked God for the love I had when I sang “Keeper of the Stars.” I just wish I had told Terry that more often.

I try to avoid Valentines Day in most cases. It’s too easy to focus on what is missing instead of the true blessing I was given. I had 18 years with a man that thought I was beautiful and loved me deeply. Tonight, I remembered.

“So I tip my hat to the keeper of the stars
He sure knew what he was doin’
When he joined these two hearts
I hold everything
When I hold you in my arms
I’ve got all I’ll ever need
Thanks to the keeper of the stars

It was no accident me finding you
Someone had a hand in it
Long before we ever knew.”

Excerpt from “The Keeper of the Stars” by Tracy Byrd

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Valentine’s Day

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Some have known great love in life. This day is bittersweet. A time of cherished memories.

Some enjoy great love now. This day is a day to celebrate that blessing.

Some look forward to a great love. This is a day for joy and anticipation.

Let us all take the opportunity to show love to those God places into our paths on this day.

“If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!

Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless.

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”
(1 Corinthians 13:1-13 NLT)

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Things I wish I’d said.

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There’s nothing more frustrating than to walk away from a conversation and then think of what you wish you had said. I always think of the wittiest comebacks, the sharpest digs and the best advice after I walk away. I guess that’s why I like the written word so much: I have time to think. I can rearrange sentences and thoughts, review everything for hints of idiocy, and just wait to be sure that’s what I wanted to say. But, today waits for no one and I can’t always weigh every word or thought too carefully.

We’ve all heard “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” And in most cases I would have to agree. Too often, we substitute sarcasm for conversation. The definition of sarcasm is “the use of words that mean the opposite of what you really want to say especially in order to insult someone, to show irritation, or to be funny.” It’s too easy to be sarcastic and stay away from open dialog. If I’m on the offensive, sarcasm is my best weapon. I’m learning to just be quiet. But don’t confuse being nice with avoidance. Sometimes the “nicest” thing to say isn’t the “best” thing to say. The hard truth is often necessary and even kinder in the long-term. But, I will fall back (too often) into not upsetting anyone, say nothing and then regret it later. All of my words need to be thoughtful and caring.

Still, the words that I wish I’d said swirl around in my head. The regrets for opportunities missed will overwhelm me if I dwell on them. I cannot go back in time and say the things I neglected to say. So, I have made a promise to be generous with compliments. I will make the extra effort to make the person on the elevator smile. I will say “I love you” whenever possible. I will tell the people who mean the most to me how I feel. I will be truthful and honest and loving all at the same time. I never want to regret words not spoke, actions not taken, love missed.

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Honestly

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Can I be honest? There are times when I want to go to sleep and never wake up. Ever. Before you start sending me Suicide Hotline numbers, let me be clear: I’m not thinking about hurting myself. It’s not that I want to die. I just don’t want to live. Not in this reality. I don’t feel this way every day. But on those days when I am over-whelmed with waves of frustration, sadness, desperation and/or (honestly) hopelessness, disappearing from this life sounds really good.

I have a great life from most viewpoints. I have a good job and a nice home. My kids are growing into successful, productive members of society. There are no needs and few wants in my life that are not met. I have friends and encouragers all around me. I was married to my best friend for 18 years. So what’s the deal, right? Right. I ask myself this all the time.

I try not to think too far ahead in my life. My son is working and on his own, building his own life. My daughter just graduated from College and is getting ready to move into her “adult” life. Gracie tells everyone that I am “kicking her out” in June of this year. And I did tell her that realistically, she should have a job and be on her by the summer. But, I’m not kicking her out. I think she needs to grow up. I think we need some space between us. Since her dad’s death, we’ve spent a LOT of time together. Out of necessity and out of habit. I’ve seen Gracie decline invitations because she didn’t want to leave me by myself. It’s time for her to have her own life and for me to have mine. This is when I start to hyperventilate. I hate coming home to an empty house. I’ve shared a home with someone for 28 years. I don’t want to live alone. But, its best for both of us.

With the new changes coming so soon, I’ve considered selling my house and downsizing. An apartment would eliminate some of the responsibilities that cause me so much grief. Someone else would be responsible for leaky pipes, and bad water heaters, and critters in the attic. But, this is the only home my kids have known. It’s the house that Terry and I sought out and bought together. I’m not sure that I ready to leave it. (sigh)

I’m not Rip Van Winkle and I’m definitely not Sleeping Beauty. I can’t sleep for 100 years and avoid the reality of my life. Friends will come and go. I can’t stop the changes that are coming. So, I’ll take a deep breath and face life as it comes. This too shall pass.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

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The Doll

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She was a beautiful doll made of delicate porcelain. Her face was painted with the utmost care. Her dress was taffeta and was edged in delicate french lace. Beautiful red hair fell in delicate ringlets around her shoulders. The utmost care had gone into her creation. She was exquisite, not a blemish of any kind could be seen. The squeals of delight could be heard throughout the house as the little girl opened the box and saw her special gift.

At first, the little girl was careful with her gift. She held the doll carefully and just gazed at her beauty. As the days passed, her excitement began to wane. She was no longer content to just look at the beautiful doll. A tea party was setup for all of the toys with red fruit punch and chocolate chip cookies. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful doll’s dress was smudged with chocolate and stained red from the punch. She was still beautiful, just not quite perfect.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, the beautiful porcelain doll was hard to recognize. Her once beautiful ringlets were gone, cut-off with the snip of little brother’s scissors. What was left of her hair covered a large crack caused from falling off of the bed one night. The beautiful painted face was now smudged with the remnants of crayon “lipstick” and sharpie “eye-shadow”. Her beautiful dress was in tatters and had been removed so the poor doll was covered only by the blanket wrapped around it. And then one day, in a fit of temper, the once beautiful doll was thrown against the wall and her right leg was broken off at the knee. She was no longer special, no longer perfect. She was soon left in the closet, forgotten by the little girl who had seemed to love her so much.

Years later, the little girl grew into a young woman and had her own little girl. While searching through yesterdays toys, the once beautiful porcelain doll was once again discovered amidst squeals of delight. The doll was carefully held and gazed at once again. The young woman remembered the special doll and wished she had taken better care of it. She took the little doll to an expert in restoring dolls. The doll was cleaned, repaired and dressed in a beautiful new dress. When the young woman once again gazed upon her precious gift, she was amazed to see the beauty had been restored. There were still marks that evidenced the lack of care the doll had received, but she was once again a beautiful and delicate doll. A doll that deserved a special place on the display shelf in the young woman’s home. Never again would the doll be subject to not so gentle hands or be left out in the weather. She was special and to be protected.
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Is there a “porcelain doll” in your life? Have you been given a beautiful gift that you abused and cast aside? No matter what we do, God still cares. He is still there. He is the great Restorer.

Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity.
Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.
Psalm 51:8-12

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Memories and Icy Days

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Sometimes I get caught up in memories from the past. Today is one if those days. It’s a cold-day in Houston. Because we don’t drive in ice but once every 5 or 6 years, this wet winter blast closed schools and some offices. These kind of days bring so many memories and wishes and sighs.

I think back over the weather days thru the years. They were meant to keep us safe. But, we knew that they were really fun days. When we were first married, we were iced in at my parents house. My dad built a big wooden sled and pulled it behind his pickup truck. Daddy’s favorite thing was to pop the rope and dump us off the sled into the snow drifts. I can still hear Terry laughing. And there was the year I was pregnant with our son and we had ice in Houston. We lived in a 2nd story apartment. The steps were icy and I couldn’t see my feet, so Terry had to help me make it safely down. I don’t know what we did that day, I just remember the giggles while he herded me on the ice.

Today the streets are now clear and as my daughter and I drove past West Oaks Mall, visions of the past came flying out to greet me. Memories of chilly mornings sharing a Cinnabon with Terry while we waited for the stores to open. We knew the stores well and our hunt for Beanie Babies and Snow villages and other fun collectables was about to begin. We weren’t looking for much and it really wasn’t about shopping as much as it was being together and having fun. None of those stores survive in that mall today. But in my memories they linger still.

On this ice day, I will make new memories with my daughter. I will remember playing with the little dogs, giggling while scraping ice off the windshield, hunting for THE Tex-Mex restaurant and girls night at the movies. I will store these memories away until they are stirred to the surface sometime in the future.

I know I must live in the present. But reality is often softened by those sweet memories of yesterday.