A Stray Hair

A hair glistened on the lampshade. Carefully, I took it off and held it between my fingers. Should I keep it? A few weeks ago, the hair would have been in the garbage without a thought. Nothing was the same now. 

The wavy, silver hair wasn’t mine. Memories of Alan bombarded me and made me smile.

While relaxing on the couch, I had given him hundreds of head rubs through the silver hair which he always said was blonde. 

Multiple times I cut his thick, wavy locks. How scared I was of messing up when he first asked me to be his barber. At that time, he sported a military type flat top.  Later the style lengthened. His hair thinned, and an almost bald spot became a challenge to hide. The sessions always gave us time to talk and laugh.

His last hair cut was only a couple of weeks before he died. He sat in the driveway of our new house without needing his 02. Neighbors stopped to chat. We enjoyed the weather and never thought it would be the last time. 

The stray hair went into the trash because I didn’t need it to remember him. Though tears threatened, pleasant memories pushed them away.

During the last few months, we spent hours talking and wanted to share our thoughts. Alan was able to do that with many people, and I need to continue in his memory.

Live each day as though it was your last. It might be. Cherish your loved ones. Make special memories. Be thankful for what God has given to you. 

Do all things without complaining or bickering with each other. Philippians 2:15 

(The Voice)

With every sun’s rising, surprise us with Your love, satisfy us with Your kindness. Then we will sing with joy and celebrate every day we are alive. Psalm 90: 14 (The Voice)

Father, thank you for every day. Help us to be thankful for those you have given to us. Amen

Molly's Picture

On our trip to Virginia, I had given each of the girls small, numbered presents to open. One was a package of post it notes. 

When Molly opened hers, she grabbed a pen in her tiny hand and began drawing. After carefully putting a picture in the top corner, she announced, “This is mommy’s sad face when grandpa died.”

Anne and I looked at each other in surprise. Molly’s three year old mind processed more than we imagined.

“We were sad when grandpa died,” I told her, “because we miss him. But we know he is with Jesus.”

She agreed and went back to her drawing.

Children can guide us as we deal with the hard parts of life. Acknowledge the pain. Don’t dwell on the past. Go on with life. 

Psalm 127: 3 Know this: children are a gift from the Eternal...(The Voice)

Psalm 128: 6 May you have the privilege of seeing your grandchildren as they grow... 

(The Voice)

Father, help us be more like children in trusting you. Amen

Another Dreary Day

Rain pattered the roof and dented the lake. Dark clouds shut off the sun. Wisps of fog swirled across the water. I huddled under a blanket and watched.

Events of the last four weeks, replayed in my mind. Alan’s sudden death remained with me every day. But tears don’t come as frequently. I laugh occasionally and can think of other things. God continues to teach me lessons and provide gifts which comfort and encourage me.

As I gazed at the lake, I variety of birds visited. A brilliant scarlet cardinal hopped from branch to branch on the bare cypress. His bright color reminded me that God shows up even in the gloominess of life.

Nine anhingas (snakebirds) fascinated me. Their bodies, like overloaded boats, sank beneath the water. They looked like gliding cobras drifting across the lake. They dove for morning morsels, resurfaced, and shook their heads so breakfast could slide down their long necks.

Unlike most resident birds, the great white egret didn’t blend with its surroundings. Its bright whiteness defied the dreariness. Stepping along the shore, it circled the lake and stopped in front of my patio. After its elegant stroll, the stately bird hunched over like a feeble, old man and waited. Then its neck stretched out like a long pipe, formed an S, and finally disappeared into its feathery body. 

A smaller white bird flapped its wings vigorously. Its flight went up, down, and around the anhingas. It dove toward the water and aborted the landing inches from the lake. After several attempts, it sailed into the water like a rocket, submerged for a couple of seconds, and resumed its frenzied quest for food.

Though they were all in the same place, every bird behaved differently. I am learning that dealing with grief is the same way. The cause of my grief stays the same but how I handle it varies from day to day and minute to minute. Just when I think I have reached a milestone, a picture, a thought, a Valentine, a question... causes an unexpected response. Likewise, each person experiencing grief does it in a way and time unique to him/her.  

I pray each day for peace, comfort, and strength to face whatever comes. God constantly provides. 

Alan’s last words to me remain etched in my mind. “Do not be afraid or discouraged. The Lord your God is with you always.” (Joshua 1: 9) “I love you.”

When I repeat those words, I feel close to him. He kept telling me that God would take care of me. That continues to happen through so many people.

Isaiah 41: 10 So don’t be afraid, I am here with you; don’t be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you, help you. I am here with My right hand to make right and to hold you up. (The Voice)

Heavenly Father, thank you for taking care of me always. Amen

Another Surprise Gift

With Alan’s death so fresh, I couldn’t believe we faced another challenge. Anne’s call told me that my son Chris was at the ER with chest pains. What next?

My mother instinct kicked in so I threw some things in a bag, grabbed the food I was going to serve Chris and his family for dinner that night at my house, and took off for their home.

While I watched my three granddaughters, Anne visited the hospital. Tests. More tests and an overnight stay. Finally, he was released with one more test to be done next week. Thankfully, nothing has been abnormal but so glad he was checked out. 

When I returned home, exhausted and ready for a nap, a shoe box was at my door. There was no name or street address from the sender. Only a PO box, city, and state. 

I cut the tape and looked inside. A beautiful message laid on top. 

Just a simple prayer shawl

Knit with prayers of love and comfort for you

To cover you with blessings

For the times you are going through.

I pray that wrapped around you

    You will feel our Savior’s arms

Holding you and loving you

    And keeping you safe and warm.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

  the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort.

2 Corinthians 1:3

Beneath the paper, lay a lovely beige prayer shawl. I wrapped it around my shoulders. Again, God led someone to comfort me at just the right time. 

The knitted symbol of God’s love enfolded me. The love of a special, unknown giver warmed my heart. Each day since Alan’s death, I have been blessed by so many loving, compassionate people. How fortunate I am to experience God’s love through every one.

Alan is smiling. He told me over and over that he was ready to see Jesus but knew it would be hard for me. He was confident that I would be ok and that my family and friends would help me. He was so right.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Philippians 4: 4-5 (NIV)

Loving Father, thank you for your loving people who reach out to the hurting. Amen