lonely Archives - Page 5 of 5

38 Days. What’s the significance of 38 days anyway? It’s a little over a month. It’s less than the number of days and nights rain fell on the Earth during the days of Noah. It’s still quite a few days less than it takes to reach our next Christmas. So, what’s the big deal about 38 days?

It just happens to be the number of days you’ve lived in Heaven, my love.

It also happens to be the number of days

I’ve been a widow
I’ve slept in our bed without you
I’ve cried consecutively
I’ve worried over some element of my future (even though I’m trying really hard not to)
I’ve had to go without seeing a text message or phone call pop up from you on my cell
I haven’t been able to snuggle with you on the couch in the evening after putting the kids to bed
I’ve had to cancel another dream we shared together in our hearts or minds but never had the opportunity to fulfill
I’ve had to miss your warm embrace through your large teddy-bear-like hugs
I’ve had to go to bed without a goodnight kiss from you
I’ve had to wake up without hearing you say “Good morning sweetheart! How did you sleep?”
I’ve had to realize my life will never be the same again without you in it
I’ve had to parent our four youngest children alone
I’ve failed repeatedly at parenting our four youngest children alone
I’ve begged God to let me see a glimpse of you in my dreams
I’ve had something wonderful to share with you, but you’ve not been there to share it with
I’ve had to walk into our closet, and see your clothes hanging there…in the same places they’ve been for the previous 37 days
I’ve talked to you repeatedly, but you haven’t responded back
I’ve slept with your pillow in my arms
I’ve thought about how empty the rest of my life will feel without you in it
I’ve had to go without hearing you tell me you love me

Thirty-eight days…typically a rather insignificant amount of time. Until today. Today…38 days took on grand significance. Sadly, most of it brings on the tears. But…even so… #Godisstillgood

I have a feeling you know her. Maybe not all of you, but I would venture to say that most of you do.

She’s the worn-looking lady down the street with the three rowdy children that frustrate you frequently.

She’s the sweet white-haired woman that you faithfully find at church in the same seat on the second row.

She’s the one in line in front of you at the grocery store spending the last of that week’s paycheck and scrounging for one more dime.

She’s the white-collar executive that drives the fancy sports car yet never looks happy to be living that carefree life she loves to display.

She’s your child or grandchild’s teacher at school they always complain about, because she’s running low on patience.

She’s the greeter at church that flashes her pearly whites each Sunday to mask the flood of tears on the verge of spilling out of her eyes.

She’s the teller at your local bank with the scowl across her forehead.

She’s the blogger who has openly shared her challenging journey.

She’s the one you cut off on the interstate the other day, because she was daydreaming and driving a bit too slow for your liking.

She’s the one spending Thanksgiving alone this year.

She’s the one who volunteered to work at the diner Christmas Day, because she has nobody to spend it with anyway.

She’s the widow often forgotten.

I know her well. I used to be her.

I’ll never forget the first Christmas after becoming a widow. I dreaded it with a passion, because families everywhere would be enjoying that special time together, and my daughter and I would be spending our first Christmas without my late husband.

I begged God to allow me to smile that first Christmas even though everything within me didn’t know how to show happiness. I asked Him to allow my daughter and me to feel His love in tangible ways. I prayed that although that first Christmas was expected to be quite hard, I wanted to experience true joy within the season.

God answered each of those prayers exponentially!

Most of the smiles I displayed or the joy I felt or the tangible love of God that surrounded me came as a result of others taking time to love on us. I wrote about a group of “angels” who, to this day still remain anonymous, blessed us immensely (you can read that post HERE)! These “angels”, as I fondly call them, became Jesus with skin on to my daughter and me. They helped to make each of the twelve days leading up Christmas something we looked forward to waking up to greet. They allowed us to know that we were not forgotten in the hustle and bustle of everyone else’s busy season.

As Christmas nears again this year, my mind returns to that first Christmas as a widow, and I think about “her” – another lady experiencing that first Christmas without her husband. Or – perhaps – it’s a precious lady who’s been a widow for twenty + years but continues to dread this holiday season, because it brings nothing but sadness.

And so…I challenge you. I challenge you to think past the busyness that you’ll encounter this season and try to find a widow to bless. A neighbor…a co-worker…a church member…

There are so many things that you can do to help make her season a little brighter:

1) Invite her over for a meal (especially on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day).

2) Take her a basket of homemade goodies.

3) Make her a stocking and fill with little mementos or gift cards to show you care.

4) Offer to help decorate her house for Christmas and bring a tree if needed.

5) Be a Christmas “12 Days of Christmas Angel” anonymously – read more HERE!

6) Take her to an area Christmas program.

7) Fill her pantry for the rest of the month.

8) Invite her over to spend Christmas with your family.

9) Take her to a Christmas Eve service.

10) Do something else creative to let this precious widow know she’s loved and not forgotten this season.

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our own little worlds that we forget those who are hurting around us (especially during this season). Allow God to use you and your family to bless His precious widowed daughters this Christmas. I promise…it’ll be a Christmas neither of you will ever forget.

~A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. (Psalm 68:5, NIV)