Remarriage following widowhood has been a blessing. The funny thing is…I truly never expected or desired to be married again…UNTIL…God placed that desire in my heart when I met Joel. I had to laugh, because God continually reminds me that “Leah’s plans are not His plans”. But, His plans are ALWAYS better!

Considering Joel never experienced the death of a spouse, God prepared him to marry a woman that has…and all that can accompany a situation such as mine. While God has so graciously healed me in most areas as a result of losing my previous husband (Chris) to suicide, God is still healing me in another area…one I really didn’t see coming until I was thrust right in the middle of a circumstance that made my need of further healing evident. The issue? I’m deeply anxious whenever I don’t hear from my husband after a few hours. I know this sounds silly, but in all honesty, after dealing with Chris being “missing” for over 24 hours prior to discovering that he had died, I panic now when I’m unsure of Joel’s whereabouts.

Now, don’t get me wrong…I’m not worried about experiencing the same thing with Joel…not in the least. I guess I just worry that something’s happened to him.

The first time this happened (and I realized I had “issues”) was while we were still dating. He had a doctor’s appointment, and he told me he would call me after the appointment. However, the doctor happened to be running late (like that never happens…ha!). However, rather than acknowledging the possibility that the doctor could be running behind…I assumed the worst. I assumed Joel had run his car off the side of the mountain and was laying in a ditch somewhere unable to answer my call/texts. Terrified, I couldn’t seem to calm my anxious heart no matter what I tried. My mind raced with horrific thoughts faster than I could keep up with it. Whenever I allowed myself to think sensibly, I knew that I was overreacting, but I couldn’t get those possibilities to leave my mind.

I texted Joel a couple of times asking him to let me know where he was and if everything was okay. I left a couple of voicemails too. And…finally…after what seemed like hours (even though it was actually less than an hour)…he called. He was fine and explained the doctor delay. I felt like such a goober. How silly of me! I can’t live the rest of my life this way! But, my precious husband simply understood. He knew that the days of Chris’ disappearance and eventual discovery will be forever etched into my mind. While they won’t always “cripple” me the way they do now (at times) they will still be there. Joel acknowledged that he would be even more diligent to communicate at times like that day at the doctor’s office in light of all that’s happened. And…he does! I can’t tell you how much that’s meant to me.

I still look forward to the day that I no longer panic over silly little things or that I am able to kiss my husband goodbye in the morning as he leaves for work and not have that horrible thought that something’s going to happen to him in his commute. I look forward to not being continually “challenged” by Chris’ suicide in my day-to-day life. However, I also KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt how deep God’s healing has already been, and I KNOW that He’ll complete the work that He’s begun in me!

To my widow friends: continue to allow Him to heal you without being so hard on yourself. I think that’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned along this journey. I always expect far more out of me than anyone else does. God just wants me to trust Him with each thought, each emotion, each step I take in this life on Earth that He’s so graciously given me. The rest? Leave it in His hands!

Isaiah so beautifully reminds me…

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Isaiah 26:3 (ESV)

Keep your mind set on Him, keep looking to Him, and watch what He can do!

I’ll never forget the first Mother’s Day after my husband died. It was the day I buried him. Through a nightmare of events, I had to have his service on Saturday and wait for burial until Mother’s Day of all days. After the graveside service, we said goodbye to most of those that were there for the service, and then my daughter and I planted ourselves on the grass and watched while they lowered my husband’s casket into the ground. I know that most people choose not to see this act that brings such finality to an already most difficult scene. However, I wanted to be there until the very end, and my daughter asked to wait with me.

We watched them close the casket into the vault and then lower both pieces into the ground. Then came the dirt. Lots of dirt followed by loads of tears down my cheeks. Soon after, the cemetery workers placed some of the cut pieces of grace back on his grave and the funeral director added the flowers that had been on his casket or sent to the service. It was over, or maybe I should say…it had really just begun. We walked away…broken…full of mixed emotions, but most of them encompassed by utter sadness.

During those early months, I visited the cemetery almost daily. It was the last place of connection I had to my husband’s earthly body. I guess, in some ways, I felt closer to him at the cemetery. Sometimes I would just sit and stare, most often I would cry, or maybe I would pray and read from God’s Word. Nevertheless, I walked away sad…very, very sad.

This past Sunday, I made a return visit to the cemetery. I like to change out the flowers upon his grave seasonally, and so I felt with the cooling temperatures, it was time for the autumn arrangement to be displayed. Again, my daughter went with me.

Right after placing the flowers into the vase, we heard a loud noise over to the side of where we were. My daughter asked, “What is that noise?” And..it hit me. It was raining on the tin roof of a nearby utility building. “It’s rain!”, I exclaimed. “We better hurry up.” No sooner had the words escaped my mouth when the rain started falling…rather, it was pouring! Sheets and sheets of rain. We were soaking wet within seconds after it began.

We immediately took off running through the grass back to the car. While running, I started laughing hysterically! I couldn’t stop. We looked like a couple of drowned rats trying to outrun rain that felt like it was pouring as thick as the waters of Niagra Falls. The very thought of it made me laugh harder. Then…Anna started laughing. It was contagious. We finally made it back into the car and took a moment to catch our breath, and then we started laughing all over again.

After we calmed down, I looked at Anna and said, “Wow! We laughed…in the cemetery. That’s a first! Look how far God’s brought us honeybun.”

She smiled and agreed.

From tears to laughter.

From brokenness to healing.

From the pit to the mountaintop.

Only God.