Autumn Times

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 1 Corinthians 1: 2-4 The Voice

Brown stalks of corn replaced bright, green foliage of summer. Vibrant bean fields turned golden. Dazzling yellow and red leaves glowed in the fall sunshine. What dramatic changes occurred between my July and September trips to Indiana. 

Likewise, autumn appeared at my class reunion. Brown and blonde became gray. Agile bodies creaked and slowed. Eyes dimmed and trim figures expanded. 

Memories flowed of simpler, happy times. Laughter came with recognition of aging faces. 

Many knew of my year of losses. Tight embraces held me. Words of comfort and compassion blessed me. We shared heartache. Tears trickled.

Years of pain and struggles united us. No one bragged of important jobs or achievements. We shared life--good and bad. High school worries lost significance as real life happened. Carefree teenagers turned into caring adults. 

For two days we reunited. Close friendships continued. Life broke down high school barriers and allowed acquaintances to become friends. Unlike in high school, God entered conversations. 

The reunion, though difficult at times, took me further along on my grief journey. The support I received from classmates soothed the pain. Reconnecting brought happiness. 

Dear Lord, thank you for reunions as we share and comfort each other. Thank you for the comfort and blessings you give. Amen

Sharing Comfort through the Pain

“We asked you to email us your favorite verses,” Pastor Vernon said.

Oh, no. I meant to send one in but forgot. 

He continued, “We’ll have time later for some of you to share your verses. Even though we know there are stories behind every verse, do not share the stories.”

I grabbed my Bible. I knew the one I had to share. Many Scriptures had sustained me as I faced the illnesses of my parents and husband. The Bible continues comfort me as I walk the journey of grief from their deaths.

Two microphones were placed in the sanctuary. One stood at the end of my row. I restrained myself but wanted to jump up and speak right away. I had to give my verse. 

Though the verse was etched in my heart, with hundreds looking on, I was afraid I might stumble. I prayed I could read it and not cry. A peace settled over me.

Pastor Vernon asked for people to step to the microphones. I crawled over knees to the aisle. As I stood, hundreds of eyes focused on me. 

I faced the congregation. “My verse is Joshua 1:9. My name is Rebecca.” The words of my Bible blurred. But knowing the verse in my heart allowed me to go on.

“This is my command: be strong and courageous. Never be afraid or discouraged because I am your God. I will remain with you wherever you go.” I looked up. I had to share a teeny part of my story.

“Those were the last words my husband said to me before he went to be with Jesus.” 

Hands clasped mine as I returned to my seat. A lady near me wiped tears away. My chest thumped wildly. Tears squeezed out. A terrible pain clenched my lower back. I  made it but returned to my seat in agony. Did Satan attack me because I shared God’s word? Within minutes and silent prayers, the pain was gone, and I began singing.

The verse reminded me of the last night with my husband. After giving Alan his medication, I held his hand and told him his low oxygen level scared me. 

With bright, but weary eyes, Alan told me that he loved me. He recited Joshua 1:9. Then he turned over and went to sleep.

Four hours later when I returned to give him medication, he was gone. He had taken off his oxygen and left to be with Jesus. 

His final words have formed a constant reminder of God’s gift to me through Alan. 

When Pastor Joel stepped on stage, he said, “This is going to be a solemn sermon.”

He was right. He shared his own grief over the death of his son. More tears slipped down my face. 

Three other widows sat by me. All of us still struggle with our losses. Pastor Joel looked at us several times. I felt he was speaking directly to me. 

“God doesn’t always solve our problems. Sometimes something greater is coming,” he continued. “We influence others by the way we turn to God in our pain.”

I don’t know why Alan and my parents weren’t healed. But I have to look ahead to what God has in store for me.

My fear of crying in front of the congregation was overcome by my determination to share a tiny bit of my story. I wanted others to be encouraged. To know that God would be with them too. Even in intense pain and grief. We are comforted so that we can comfort others.

Heavenly Father, thank you for your gift of the Word. In pain and suffering you comfort and encourage with special blessings. Help me as I go forward. Amen

Unfocused and Jumbled

As for me, I will call upon God, and the Lord shall save me. Evening and morning and at noon I will pray, and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice. Psalm 55: 16-17 NIV

Dirt clung to my fingers. It was almost impossible to pick up black, bok choy seeds from little cups. Two other co-op members joined me in trying to plant the elusive, teeny dots. My early morning chore would help to fulfill the sixteen hours required for the growing season. 

Four containers of soil were attached to each tall pole that lined the garden. Only by standing on my tiptoes, could I see into the top tier. 

A seed was to go into every corner of the hanging pots. I circled making small indentations, dropping seeds, and replacing the dirt. Only one seed was to be put into each hole. 

My mind wandered. Did I get each corner? Had I remembered every pot? I tried to focus. I tried different, rather scattered, methods.  After several attempts, I had a routine. Make all the indentations. Drop a seed and cover it right away. It worked. By the time I figured it out, over half of my row was finished.

During my grief, much of my life has been unfocused and scattered. Some days my mind functions clearly. Then I feel completely jumbled. 

Don’t  make any important decisions for a year. That made sense to me. Would I even be ready then?  

As I dealt with my parents’ finances, before and after their deaths, along with Alan’s estate, I was often overwhelmed. Added to all of that was keeping up with my own affairs of running a household. 

There were days I was drowning. I could barely lift my head to take a gulp of air. Over time, I learned to float or even paddle a bit. Then another wave would hit. I felt myself slammed to the bottom again. But the struggle to reach the top lessened in intensity and duration. 

With eyes closed and uncertain of the path to safety, arms surrounded me and lifted me to the top. Over and over family members, friends, and even kind strangers have made my journey easier. 

Father, thank you for staying with me and providing unending help as I struggle to rise above the waves. Amen

Comfort During the Storms

Even though surrounded by people at the reunion, loneliness took me captive. I struggled. Constant reminders mocked my loss. Alan no longer enjoyed the bountiful buffet of delicious food. He was not sitting by me nor getting me a lemonade. There were fewer jokes and smiles to make me laugh. Animated conversations surrounded me,  but I felt detached. 

Tears came. Arms enfolded me. Kind words encouraged me. Others missed him too. All afternoon tears occasionally seeped out.

Exhaustion touched every cell of my body. But sleep eluded me. I prayed. I thought of happy times. Nothing helped. 

In the quiet of night, I wept. Grief overtook me. Instead of my normal short bout of crying, tears flowed and flowed and flowed. I longed to escape the intense pain. 

Thunder rumbled faintly and  then boomed. Rain pattered on the roof before a deluge hit. Covers formed a cocoon around me. Strangely, when the storm came, I felt relaxed and at peace in the dark room. 

God has not taken the storms of my life away. But He constantly gives me peace, strength, and comfort during them.

Hear my cry, O God, attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a shelter for me, a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in your tabernacle forever; I will trust in the shadow of Your wings. Psalm 61: 1-4 NIV

Dear Lord, thank you for your unending love, protection, and peace. When you don’t take my pain, guide me though it. Amen