The Young Widow's Rant

My Blog Has Moved

2012-02-15T10:25:00.001-06:00

I have decided to move over to a Word Press Blog. I would love if you would come check it out and follow me there!

Striving After The Wind

Dear Matt

2012-02-05T12:25:00.000-06:00

Dear Matt,

It has been one year since you left me.

There has been so much that has happened since that day; since the day you died; the day that I hate to think of. There are days when it feels like ages has past since you were here with us, and moments when I think I can still hear you clambering around the house. I think of you everyday. Each waking minute brings the possibility of a thought that has the unwelcome power to throw me back into my old life with you. I struggle each time one of those moments arise with the question of whether or not I should melt into a pile of grief and let the tears overcome me, or push it aside with courage to continue on.

You cross my mind in daily tasks. I let your determination encourage me when I'm faced with things I would rather not take on. I imagine the things you would say to me to get me to try harder. I feel you smiling down on me when I finish a project that I know you would have loved to take on with me. I'm proud of myself every time I take care of my house in the same way you would have, knowing that you are so relieved to see I actually did learn a thing or two from you.

My heart flutters each time I hear Evelyn say, "I miss daddy", and she does so often. I lose my breath whenever Isaac turns his head quickly to look at me, and I see your eyes shining out from his. I soften when I call for Maggie in that low slow tone you would, and she jumps towards me, as if for just a moment she thinks it was actually you calling her to play.

I can't put into any amount of words what I would tell you if I had the chance at one more conversation. I long so much for reassurance from you. Reassurance that I made all the right decisions over this last year. The thousands of decisions ... in regards to our home, to the kids, to the new home, and to all your material things. I would want to hear from you that you are happy I found Brad, and that you give us your blessing in mending our broken family together. I would want to hear you loved me, that you always loved me, and that you had always felt loved by me as well. I would want to know that on the night you died you were not afraid, but instead at peace knowing I was with you. I would ask you what it was you most wanted the kids to know about you, and what you wanted them to know least. I would tell you that Isaac misses you; even if him missing you seems unlikely, I would tell you he does. I would make sure the pictures and notes that Evie leaves you under her pillow, for the angel to take, are all making it into your hands.

I've changed so much in the last year, Matt. Changed how I see life, how I see death, how I see God. I've started putting aside fears so long held in my heart that I had begun to believe they were who I were. I've learned to hold death differently, life differently, and fears differently. I've stopped letting my past get in the way. I've started to step out in faith, and dance around the mystery of unknowing.

To say you are missed doesn't start to explain. To say you were loved, still are loved, doesn't begin to scratch the surface. You made an impact on this Earth, and I feel so blessed that - even if it was for far too short a moment - I was able to call you my husband.

Always and Forever,
Stephanie

A Couple More Rants

2012-02-01T11:24:00.000-06:00

It has been a year for me since I began The Young Widow's Rant. It has been a year of grieving and one of growth. I will continue in my blogging, but with a new home. A new blog that gives me the ability to widen my range of topics and close the journey I've been on with this one. I will still write about Matt, about grieving, but hopefully I will write about more. Please follow me on this new journey as well, you can find my new blog at:

Striving After The Wind

As this year comes to a close, as this month does, I have been writing down some of my favorite memories of Matt. I have also been spending some time looking back and reading some of my old posts. It seems weird to say, but I can't believe what we have gone through as a family. I can't believe I'm still here. I'm so thankful I decided to write out this journey. And I am so thankful for everyone who have read and responded to my posts over the last year -- and I hope you will continue to do so on my next blog.

I have a post for this Sunday, the one year anniversary of Matt's death, but this will probably be the last before that one. I've decided to do some 'popcorn' memories, and I would love if those friends, family, and loved ones of Matt would share some of their own in the comments section. I can't imagine trying to put these in any type of order, so I'm writing as they come to me ... despite the oddity of the order!

I remember Matt's "Mike Jone" phase, and how for a good six months of his life the first response to any question you would ask Matt undoubtedly would be, "Mike Joooooones!". This happened to be during the time I found out we were having Evelyn, after I told Matt he said, "Can we name it Mike Jones?". He quickly looked at me with regret all over his face, lol.

I remember when we would take the limo, that he had bought with a friend, downtown for the night. But the limo was more useful than just a nice ride. I also remember using it when we helped a friend move out of his house. We packed the back of that limo full of furniture and household goods as if it was a rented U-Haul.

I remember Matt taking the little red wagon with us to New Orleans when my older brother got married. He had Evelyn ride in that wagon, with a rope attached, everywhere we went. Up and down the halls of the airport, on the city streets of New Orleans ... it was quite the attention getter.

I remember my 31st birthday, not long after Matt got his license back. I was sitting at my cubical and was suddenly very aware and annoyed by a vehicle that had it's music so loud, my windows were shaking due to the bass ... and then I realized it was Matt's truck. When I went to the door he had in his arms three huge bouquets of flowers, and two very expensive boxes of personalized chocolates. He could never do anything small.

I remember when he prepared Evelyn and Isaac's nurseries. Both events were so similar, and he did both of them without any help from me. He went to Target, picked a decor, and bought two of every item they had that went with the theme. He had decals, nightlights, blankets, pillows, and more. For Isaac's sports themed room there was even a set of pajamas that matched. Matt bought each size from newborn up to 5T, I guess so that Isaac would always be able to match his room at night if he wanted.

I remember Matt getting his two little brothers packages of underwear and socks for Christmas each year ... and then stuffing a couple $100s in there. It always shocked me and softened me how much he gave to them, but I always knew it was only because he loved them both so much, he felt he could never show it to them any other way.

I remember the way Matt would eat cereal. He would often eat a box at a time. Always in our bed. He would march up to bed, gallon of milk in one hand, a brand new box of Lucky Charms in the other. He would fill, pour, and eat until there was nothing left in the box. He would often then drink straight from the milk jug until that was empty too. We went through a LOT of milk and cereal.

I remember each household project Matt would take on, and then take to the next level. Putting hardwood flooring into every place that it would fit at his house on the lake, including the landing in the garage. Painting the ceilings in the house. Learning how to epoxy a floor, and insisting it must be done to every cement area of our homes. Wiring, rewiring, and souping up each TV and computer in our homes - if it was capable of something, he would make sure it was being done. Staining our deck, the privacy fences, and Evie's playground. His insisting that every single document that we had, or obtained, must be scanned, shredded, and placed into a designated folder in the external hard drive of the computer (this initial project was weeks long).

I remember our wedding night. Going to dinner, walking up and down the streets of Deadwood, playing some slots, and enjoying each other.

I remember the first time he saw Evelyn, the first time he held her. And not too long after that the first time he threw her in the air (one of his very favorite games).

I remember the first time he saw Isaac. He showed up to the hospital, in true Matt fashion, with a dozen donuts, something like five bouquets of flowers, vases to put the flowers in (he thought it made more financial sense:), and a new blanket for Isaac. Isaac was sick so he was in the nursery hooked up to all sorts of tubes. Matt was right there with him though, snapping pictures like the paparazzi, so proud of his new son.

I remember the night we met. We were sitting together on the deck off of his bedroom on the lake house, watching the sunrise ... it had been a long night ... and he turned to me and ask, "I just don't get it, what is there about you that isn't perfect?" (He found out quickly, but for that moment I enjoyed being viewed in such light).

I remember the way he made me laugh almost every time he spoke. I'm not sure if he did it because he had a hard time being serious, or if because he enjoyed my laughter -- but it is by far one of the things I miss the most.

I remember the way he would hold Evelyn in church during worship and dance and sing to those songs like there wasn't another soul around.

I remember the mother's day in 2009 when he bought me over a dozen gifts. He wrapped each and put them all in the laundry room. It was a complete surprise to me. Each one was a gift that I had wanted for our new home.

I remember the hobbies we would phase in and out of doing together. Puzzles, playing cards (I can't remember what we played for the life of me right now), watching episodes of Lost back to back obsessed for weeks, and having sudoku contests.

I remember loving being in a room when it was his brother Mike, his sister Marissa, and him. The three of them constantly bickering, picking on one another. I would always step in to mediate - and be quickly reminded it was all out of love. The three of them made me laugh so hard when they were together.

I remember him surprising me with a trip to Mexico to see my best friend get married the night before we left. And the trip to Vegas with the girls he surprised me with on Valentine's day.

I remember the way he packed our van for our road trip to the Black Hills when we got married. The amount of stuff he jammed into that van was beyond words, and I would still say to this day only about 90% of it we used:)

I'm not sure I can go on anymore. I could go on forever. Matt touched my life in so many ways there is no way to put it all into words. I may just come back and add to this list over the years as things come to me. Please, I encourage you all to add your own. I would love to have these memories to keep, to learn things I didn't know, and to have the honor of sharing your Matt memories with you.

Grace and Peace!

Cousin's Night

2012-01-27T10:20:00.003-06:00

Since Matt's death his cousins decided to start a tradition of getting together on a regular basis. 'Cousins night' would be about catching up, having fun, and letting loose a little. This group consists of Matt's siblings, his cousins, their spouses, and kids. It has been such an unbelievable blessing for me. It seems to be one of the few places left I can let my guard down and grieve. A place where Matt is still so very much alive and among us it is difficult to imagine he isn't about to walk right around the corner during one of these parties. This last one was just this weekend, and we decided to propose a toast to Matt. We went around the room and each gave a favorite memory of Matt, and I inventively listened and jotted notes as to not forget anything later on.

There were many great things that were said by Matt's family; some from recent years and some from long ago. One thing that stood out to me more than anything though, was the repeated feelings on Matt's excitement for life. It seemed throughout his life Matt found many things to pour himself into. He always took on ideas, projects, or goals with such enthusiasm. He was the kind of guy that could have excited you about dirt if it just so happened he had fell in love with dirt earlier in the month. Matt sold a type of juice the last two years of his life; it was part of a multi-level marketing company, and it was just as any other multi-level company is. Oh, but how Matt loved this stuff. He was ordering it by the cases, handing it out to everyone who stopped over. He could talk about nothing but this juice for an hour straight without a breath. It was the same way with his Christmas lights, his computers, his business ventures, his newest hobby of his toy trains ... it went on and on with him. If there was something he believed in, he would share his passion with such intensity a person couldn't help but want to run out to Hobby Lobby and pick up a train or two for themselves.

One of the other things that really touched me was when a cousin was reminded of a time shortly after Evelyn was born that we had all gathered as a family at some event. Matt had told her that he was so excited to have his own family now. He was looking forward to the times we would be able to hang out, and being able to watch our families grow together. Matt had a rough time in his late teens and 20s, there were a lot of times his family members would go a long time without seeing him. It was after Evelyn's birth that he started to feel the importance of family again. To appreciate just how important the family unit was, and felt remorse for missing those years he was away.

There was a point in the night I was in the kitchen and the rest of the crew was dancing in my living room ... possibly to Don't Stop Believing. I was looking over their faces, feeling so blessed that they continue to let me in as part of their family. I was overwhelmed that I was able to marry into such a loving, fun, and beautiful family. I was sad Matt wasn't with us, but so overjoyed that we were still dancing despite our loss of him, because he would have wanted nothing more.

The Good Ol' Maggie Mags

2012-01-17T00:32:00.000-06:00

It just wouldn't be right if I were to make the effort to write down memories of Matt and I were to leave out his love of animals. I could go so many directions with this post, it is almost hard to know where to start. I think though, out of respect for his most recent pet, it is only right if I talk a little about our dog Maggie.

Technically speaking Maggie was a Valentine's Day present for me, or at least that is what Matt said. It was February 13, 2010 when Evelyn and I walked in the house after coming home for the day that we saw Matt sitting on the living room floor with the most adorable, little yellow lab. I immediately teared up, and it was not because Maggie was so cute. I teared up because I could not believe Matt had gotten us a dog. There I was stunned and standing in our entry way with Evelyn in my arms. She turns to me, slaps her hands on both sides of my cheeks and exclaims

Mommy, a puppy! It's a puppy Mommy!

Well, after that there was no arguing about whether or not the dog was staying. And although I was fearful about the responsibilities that came along with a dog, Matt was utterly faithful in taking care of everything to do with Maggie. Up until this point Matt and I always had cats. We had four to be exact; Yellow, Blue, Simon, and Blue Two. And Matt loved those cats with all his heart, but it wasn't until we had Maggie I knew just how good Matt was with animals. He had such a good way with her. He trained her, disciplined her, loved her, played with her, and cuddled her with amazing love. He had this way of calling her name, in his low and loud voice, "MAAA ... GGGGGGIIIIIEEEEE". I wish I had the ability to call her the way he did, maybe I would have better luck in getting her to listen to me now a days.

A memory that I always recall about Maggie is from a day Matt and I were both at home, taking a day off to rest together. For the most part I wasn't a fan of allowing Maggie into our bed. On this day Matt and I were spending the day in bed watching movies. Matt would get up to get to get some food or go to the bathroom, and I could sense something was going on, but I couldn't figure out what. He would crawl to the top of the covers, way up by the pillow, and then shuffle down off the end of our bed. It seemed strange, but Matt was a little strange, so I didn't think a lot of it. So after a movie or so, I hear him whisper, "Shhhh, stay down". I look over and for the first time that day realized that there next to Matt was a rather large lump under the covers. I remember laughing so hard, and then Matt laughing. He pulls back the covers, and there under the duvet was Maggie. She was curled down in a little ball completely covered trying to hide from Momma. I don't know how he got her to lay so still, for so long, but she seemed to always do exactly what he wanted her to. I ended up letting Maggie snuggle with us that day.

When Matt first died I struggled for months on what would be best for Maggie. We now lived in a town home, and there was far less places for Maggie to run. I had so much on my plate, and balancing caring for a dog seemed daunting at times. Not to mention the amount of time Matt would spend playing catch with her each day, and how it seemed unfair for her to have such a change in a workout routine. I struggled for months on whether or not a different home for Maggie would be best for all of us, but in the end I came to the conclusion that we needed her as much as she needed us. I know now I made the right decision.

Maggie still drives me nuts now and again. She always has. I'm not a huge dog lover, and Evelyn is much like her mom. We are fickle when it comes to how much we want to have her around. On the days when Evie and I were loving Maggie up Matt would be bustling around the house announcing to whoever wanted to listen, "Everybody loves the Maggie Mags. Oh the good ol' Maggie Mags. Who couldn't love the Maggie Mags." And on those days Evie and I felt we needed a little extra space you could hear Matt in the same melody declaring on Maggie's behalf, "Nobody loves the Maggie Mags. Poor ol' Maggie Mags. Why won't anybody love the Maggie Mags."

I think that Isaac may just fall in love with Maggie the way that Matt had. I'm teaching the two how to play catch. Right now it leaves a little to be desired ... Isaac will pick up the tennis ball and throw it down; the ball landing about 6 inches in front of him. Maggie will happily pick it up and drop it back down for him. He picks it back up, giggling the whole time, and throws it back down another 6 inches ahead. I see the love for animals Matt had in Isaac already, and I hope someday soon Maggie will have a playmate as good as she once did in Matt.

God Bless The U.S.A.

2012-01-10T01:02:00.013-06:00

Matt had a thing for patriotism. He loved the Fourth of July and all the hoopla that comes with it. He loved those good old country songs that speak of being American. I don't know where exactly this came from, I never did inquire further, but this embedded patriotism made for some good memories.

The first one that comes to mind is our trip to the Black Hills, which is where we got married. He had this childlike excitement about seeing the monuments that idolize our nation. When we went to the 'light up the night' event at Mount Rushmore he video taped the whole thing. Not Evie and I - the movie and park ranger who spoke ... probably not one of our more exciting videos. On the way out of the park he stopped at the gift shop and insisted on purchasing three posters of the Presidential faces. I did my best to encourage him against it, thinking to myself that I could do without one of these posters framed in my home, let alone three. And for the record ... two of the three ended up hanging in our garage; one above his office door.

And then there was the singing. I'm not sure if it was by chance, or if he brought the CD on purpose, but we a copy of Lee Greenwood's God Bless The USA on the trip. Now this song had always been a favorite of Matt and I's, mostly because we knew all the words and could sing it whenever, no music needed. But on this trip he played it relentlessly. I remember poor Evelyn, only two at the time, begging us to stop the singing. We had so much fun with it though, it was inconceivable to stop. We took a road trip around the parks one day, and every time we would spot Rushmore in the background we would belt out the tune.

So for your listening pleasure ... God Bless The USA

The other most distinct memory of Matt and his patriotism was the American flag he constructed out of Christmas lights. I haven't the slightest clue how he came up with the idea, but the project started as a display for Memorial Day and wasn't ready until Independence Day. He used a green plastic garden fencing, and spent hours and hours weaving tiny Christmas lights around each edge. The end result was impressive, to say the least, but what a trip it was for all of us in getting there.

There wasn't just the construction that took attention to detail; there was the hanging, storing, and repairing that all beckoned for his attention each time a holiday came up with the need for it. It is hard to believe, but I can't seem to find a picture of that flag anywhere ... I will have to keep looking (*see below for update*:). The flag was truly a beautiful thing.

My dear friends who were kind enough to get a team (and that is what it took) over to tear down Christmas lights last spring have been 'storing' the flag for me. Since there is no way I could ever take care of this thing, and I'm thinking my friends don't want the responsibility either, I will sell it to the highest bidder ;)

Let's Play Hockey

2012-01-06T00:21:00.007-06:00

Behind our home in Chanhassen we had a pond. You could call it a pond; I think technically, however, it was a city drain off. From the time we moved into our home, before the snow even had a chance to melt, Matt had a desire to make something of that little pond. He let our dog Maggie swim in that water, which was not something I was none too fond of. He bought a small blow up boat to take the kids on short journey's up and down the water. He liked that pond. The first spring we were in the home, along with help from the neighbors, Matt proceeded to take down all the cattails surrounding the pond in order to ease it's appearance.

It was the second winter we were in the house he decided to build a skate rink out of the pond. I loved the idea. When I was a kid we flooded the two gardens in the back of our house a couple years in order to to do the same. I should have known though, that when Matt decided to make a skating rink, that it was going to end up being the best rink within city limits that winter.

He spent countless hours out back that winter. He would flood the rink, smooth it, and shovel it. He spent a week building up the snow around the edges, then taking the hose to those mounds in order to make it more official with 'boards'. With flood lights on each end we had a chance to enjoy that rink a few times that winter. The neighbors, all our kids, and us would get dressed up in our warmest and take to the ice.

Evie was pretty comfortable on skates. Matt would have her hold a hockey stick and skate backwards, as she held on to work on balance. I didn't have a chance to take her skating last winter, and this winter isn't looking too hopeful for ice rinks yet, but I hope that she learns to skate. I look forward to telling her about daddy's extravagant home made pond rink, and the times he helped teach her how to skate.

An Old Wooden Island

2012-01-03T14:52:00.006-06:00

If you were to go into my basement today you would find an old wooden kitchen island being used as a TV stand. It isn't the most beautiful piece of furniture in the world, but it is probably my most loved piece of furniture. I often think of that table as the island Matt and I fell in love around.

When I met Matt he had it placed in the center of his kitchen. I suppose it was because this was the place the drinks got poured, but it was always the place everyone gravitated to. People were always coming and going, eating and drinking, dancing and living life big around Matt's house - and it all centered around this kitchen island.

I loved that kitchen island, I loved that kitchen. I loved helping Matt entertain there. Making food and drinks, chatting and having fun. It was the dancing though that I loved the most. Matt was a fool for techno music. He had his entire home wired to his stereo; each room with a volume controller, and hours of unending techno music always rolling. If Matt walked into a room and the volume wasn't on a ten, he would walk right over and turn it up (It was usually me turning them down after he left the room).

So here we were in this beautiful lake home, loud music, drinks, and friends - sounds like a wonderful recipe for dancing. Matt loved to dance, but if you knew Matt at all you would know he was not given the gift of rhythm. The man danced to his own beat, which is part of the reason I think he liked techno so much - it is hard not being able to just jump on time to the booming bass. Matt loved to dance, and so do I. Oh, how I love to dance. Not everyone does though ... So it would often be that people would walk into Matt's house and everyone would be hanging around the kitchen island. And while they were standing around chatting they would be simultaneously dodging Matt and I as we would dance around and around and around that thing for hours.

I loved dancing with him, and I love the old wooden island we fell in love around.

Watch Out Walmart, Here Comes Mattyo

2012-01-02T21:00:00.005-06:00

It was about 1 week before I started dating Matt that he had one of his infamous trips to Walmart. I had the pleasure (if you could call it that) of sorting and placing all these purchases into his lake home, he owned prior to ours, for weeks afterwards. Although I wasn't there for that specific trip, I had the pleasure (again, if you could call it that) of experiencing other trips, much the same, throughout the years. And it wasn't just Walmart: Menards, Home Depot, Target, or just about any store with similar qualities could have been a target for his shopping extravaganzas. And when I say it was an experience, I mean just that.

Matt had an extreme case of ADHD. He was not one of those people who it was hard to diagnose; it was obvious and it was intense. He was also compulsive, not OCD necessarily, but more in a 'hyper-focus' sense of the word. If he put his mind to something, it would get done. If he wanted something, he would have it. If he was going to build it, fix it, create it; he would.

So imagine a man, completely free from worry, who didn't leave the house much, entering a world like Walmart. It was a site to see, really. I can best describe it as if he was a foreigner or alien even. He would go into a store, that for other people would seem ordinary, but for him it was a new world. With eyes like a child he would literally fill carts with the most seemingly insane things one could think of.

Now ... I think this post needs little disclaimer here. By no means do I condone these trips. Ethical shopping, financial insanity, and adult irresponsibility could all make a person wonder about his motives. But it was part of who he was, part of what made him Matt, and so I share (but by no means recommend).

Matt once shared with me that he didn't like the feeling of trying to do something around the house and being caught without something that he needed for the task, which is why he would shop like he did. The trip that I spoke about at the beginning was the largest I was aware of him taking. He purchased so many idle trinkets, home goods, personal toiletries, and other stuff I still have some of these things around the house. If you wanted to stay with Matt back in those days, you didn't need to bring a thing. His house was stocked with anything a person could imagine; it ended up being quite the little hotel. I still have the receipt from that trip and it makes me want to cry and laugh a little each time I come across it. The total number of carts he ended up checking out with was always up for debate, but it was somewhere around seven.

My mom and I, to our surprise, came across similar receipts shortly after Matt's death. While cleaning out the house it became obvious that Matt had went to every Menard's in the Twin Cities and bought up each clearance box of Christmas lights the store had. It became somewhat of a Twilight Zone experience for us matching up each of those receipts to the boxes (which we found piled and hidden in the above garage storage area), calling each Menards, and requesting ridiculous returns. Mostly, the employees at Menards were great about it. I can only imagine what the light show would have looked like this year.

Another shopping trip that comes to mind was Matt's first Black Friday outing in 2010. I don't know what made him decide to venture out that year, but he did so with a vengeance. He didn't just purchase a WII; he purchased a WII, 6 controllers, a balance board, a dance mat, 25 plus games, a Rock Band set, accessories, and more. He purchased a full size drum set (although no one we know plays drums), a keyboard, and an electric guitar - amp and all. Not to mention a couple TVs.

It all seems silly. Expensive? Yes. But silly too. If you could have shopped with him you would have understood why this makes my memory list. As adults we rarely have moments of complete childlike innocence. Moments where there isn't a care in the world. Times when fun is the only thing on your mind. Experiences where if you could imagine it, dream it, want it, you could have it. That was what it was like to shop with Matt when he would go all out. That was what it was like with Matt a lot of the time, actually.

Of course, he didn't always fill five carts at the store. Sometimes he would just go, and get what he would need, and that would be it. But that is part of it too. You never knew what you were going to get with Matt. It was always an adventure, and if you got invited on one of his adventures you knew it was going to be grand. That is the way he lived ... Grand!

I came across a receipt from Target just a couple weeks ago when I was going through Matt's coat pockets before donating them. I was excited to see what he had bought, get a glimpse into the day he may have had. I was disappointed at first when I opened it, and realized that because I had washed his coat, there was no printing left on it. And then I laughed. The receipt was easily two feet long. I became aware at once of two things; 1) It didn't matter what he had bought that day, but that he had fun doing it and 2) That it saddened me to know, without a doubt, that I would never get the chance to experience a trip like that again. I imagined him coming home with piles of stuff; organizing, moving, plotting, planning ... just the thought of it all was enough for me.

The Beginning of the End

2012-01-01T13:40:00.000-06:00

Well, I made it through Christmas. It had it's tough moments, but mostly we were busy. The beginning of February is coming quickly. The beginning of February will mean that Matt will have been gone for 1 year. I can hardly believe it. It is harder now accepting that then it did 6 months ago ... I have no idea why.

February will also mean the 1 year anniversary of my widow's blog. I have decided for a lot of reasons that his death day will be my last post on this site. I will keep writing, just not here. One of the many reasons for this blog over the last year is to give the children something to look to, when they wonder about what it was like when daddy died. I hope that I have given them something substantial; that they will be able to treasure these words, and it will help them better understand this year. There is one thing I feel I have touched on here and there, but haven't devoted a ton of time to, and that is some of my favorite memories of Matt. Matt and I, the kids and Matt, and just Mattyo and all he was as a person. So for January I am going to spend some time doing just that. These last posts will be memories of Matt. Things that I can write down while they are still fresh in my mind, and be able to look back on someday and enjoy.

My first memory, appropriately enough for the date, will be New Year's 2009. We had been in our new home in Chanhassen less than a month. Matt and I continued to rearrange room after room, working to get our home just the way we imagined it to be best. Evelyn just about to turn two years old had fallen in love with the sightly annoying Australian children's sensation The Wiggles.

On New Year's Eve Matt and I stayed in, and worked late into the night on the new house. I was upstairs in the bonus room, organizing and arranging my scrapbooking space. Matt spent a good part of the night working in the garage (because really the most important place to focus one's efforts in a new home is the garage . . . right?) Yet even from across this spanning 3000 sqft home we felt connected. Stopping down from each of our own spaces to show off to each other what the other had done. To ask opinions on where things should go, and what would work the best. We had a blast that New Year's. Taking a break just around midnight to walk out into the cold, and take in our new home together. Counting down in the silent darkness of our new little neighborhood to kiss in the New Year together.

The next morning, tired and worn from all our work, Evelyn promptly woke us at 6am. So in true Mattyo fashion he decided the best way to celebrate a new beginning, in our new home, was with a Wiggles concert! Put on by the three of us, right in our own living room. We all dressed up; Matt in one of his fine blue glittery Tom James suits, Evie in a fairy dress, me in sunglasses and dress up wings. We each were armed with musical instruments, including a microphone. And right there in our living room we put on a little concert. Singing along to Evie's new favorite DVD of The Wiggles - You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.

Matt recorded the whole thing. I wouldn't share it here for anything, mostly because we all look so silly. I watched it last night though. Towards the end, as Evie got bored of our concert, Matt egged her on. He said, "Honey, you better dance it up, because in 25 years daddy is going to play this video on your wedding day." Watching that, hearing that, brought me lots of tears. I love that memory though; really, really love it.

How To Face Death - Part 3

2011-11-21T09:54:00.008-06:00

This section has proven a little more difficult; I suppose because it is a bit more emotionally charged than the others. Some of the things I'm suggesting may seem a bit out there, but if the worst was to happen (whether it is at the age of 25 or 65) I believe the benefits to those you leave behind just can't be measured.

7) In Isaac's closet right now I have 12, custom-designed, Tom James suits; each one embroidered with "MAO". I have no idea if they will ever fit Isaac; and if they do if he would ever have any interest in wearing them. What I do know is they were some of Matt's very favorite things in the world. The night I met Matt some friends and I were picking him up to take him to an after party; it was easily 2 in the morning. When we came to pick him up, he was up in his room trying on these suits, picking one out for the party. I'll never forget that night, beside other obvious reasons, it was the first glimpse I had into the love-affair he had with his suits. Given any chance to wear one of these suits, he always did. So, where am I going? Although, I'll always keep one for memories, and there is a chance Isaac could want these, they take up a lot of space (seriously, a lot). Not only do they take up a lot of space, but I wonder if there is someone out there that needs a suit to get a job, or keep a job? Could they go to someone who needs them more? They were also extremely expensive. Could I sell them, and instead of handing the suits down to Isaac, could I be building up his college fund? This is just an example, of course. It was only one of the many decisions on possessions I had to make (and continue to have to make). I don't expect anyone to go through everything they own and decide what would go and what would stay if they were to die. What I would suggest is if there is something that you know you want to stay with your spouse and children - let them know, this way they can feel freedom in making the other decisions with the best of their ability.

Matt in one of his shiny suits at a Governor's dinner we attended ...

8) What would you like your family to have? Each family member deserves [and will want] something to have that would be a piece of you. Your parents, siblings, nieces, nephews. This could be something small, or something that reminds you of your childhood together. I would suggest naming something for each family member. Not only does it take away a tough decision for the spouse in your passing, but it will be a comfort for your family to know it was the thing you wanted them to have.

9) If you were to both pass in an accident together who would you want to take your children? Beside identifying this person, it is important to ask the person you have in mind if that is something they would be willing to do for you.

10) This will be my last piece of advice in this series, and although I imagine readers will have mixed feelings in making the decision to do this, it is the one thing I wish more than anything I had for my kids. Have you ever went back to watch your home videos from the year prior? How often do you actually see yourself in these videos? So often, us parents are the ones taking the videos, or would rather not be seen in them at all. I wish I had something to show Evelyn and Isaac that was just their father - something that captured his voice ... his tone ... his mannerisms ... his humor. I challenge each of you to take your home video camera into your bedrooms and make a video for your children. Include your favorite memory, hopes you have for them, games you played together, and anything else that seems appropriate. No need to start the video with a, "If you are watching this ...". No need to re-watch it, or edit it, or share it with anyone. Just talk, just be you. Place the memory card in an envelope, and put it away. It would take 5 minutes, but the price of something like that could not be measured. Even if you were to live to be 90, a video like this could be a place of immense comfort and great treasure for those who love you. For some reason I think this song helps capture what I'm suggesting ... The Words I Would Say

To end this series I'm going to show you a video of Matt. It is the one video that I have been able to find of him, and just him. Although it is hilarious, and does capture his humor a bit, it leaves a little to be desired in regards to capturing his 'legacy'. I watch it over and over now, wishing it were longer. He took this video after getting a new web camera, he was so proud, and sent this clip off to show off his new toy.

Down By The Bay

How to Face Death - Part 2

2011-11-17T12:21:00.005-06:00

A few more thoughts on how to prepare for the unexpected. You can read my first blog post on this series here.

3) Do you want to be buried or cremated? It's sometimes hard to remember life before Matt died, but I *think* I assumed he wanted to be buried. At least, that assumption is what made me decide to bury him. However, I don't know that with any certainty. From what I have gathered, cremation is becoming a more popular choice in the past few years. Cremation is better for the environment, leaving less chemicals behind for decomposition (which are mostly found in the casket and vault), and taking up less space on our planet. Cremation can also be cheaper. The thought of being cremated versus decomposing is an issue for some people, and so that makes cremation or burial a subject worth thinking on and discussing.

4) If you choose to be buried, do you know where you would like to be buried? If you are a young couple, and home is a new city you've only lived in a few years maybe being buried there is not ideal for you. Maybe you really don't care, and if you don't - great, tell your spouse that. This idea must be discussed for cremation as well. If you are to be cremated, what you like your spouse to do with the remains? Keep them displayed in your home? For how long? Do you want them spread somewhere? Where?

5) This may seem like a silly one, but I have lived through the fear of walking into a casket room. Others I know have shared similar stories, so I feel the need to share with you. If you will be buried, your spouse must enter a room filled with caskets ... some small, some big, some comfy, some fancy, some oak, some metal ... they must pick the place you will rest forever in the ground. Although it sounds dramatic, the weight of this choice is nothing less than that when brought into that room. Your heart desires to give your spouse the best, but the difference between 'the best' and 'a box', when it comes to caskets, is literally thousands of dollars. Unfortunately, I imagine funeral homes are aware of this tension, and likely make money off of this very thing. Please, give your spouse the okay to bury you in a cheap casket, with a vault that has a sub par seal on it. You will not know what you are laid to rest in, no one at the funeral will notice the hardware of your casket, and your children will have extra money for college. For those of you who are would like to be cremated, and your remains kept, you will need to answer this question as well (because you can be placed in a tiny wooden box or fancy gem encrusted vase ... they put these in the same room as the caskets).

*Sigh*

I didn't plan this list out prior to writing it, which means, I don't know how long this series will go on for. I can think of at least 3 more topics I would like to touch on before I'm done with this little series. I will put all of the topics in a listed format, easier for discussing, when I'm at the end. Grace and Peace.

How To Face Death - Part 1

2011-11-16T13:06:00.007-06:00

This is a post I've pondered writing for some time. I recall many times in Matt and I's journey swiftly thinking on the 'what ifs'. What if I were to die, what if he were to die, what if we were both to die? Were we prepared? Did we have a savings? Life Insurance? Plans for the children?

The subject was hard, and Matt proudly lived life one day at a time (with a hint of invincibility showing right under the surface). He didn't want to think about the 'what ifs'. "That would never happen to us," he would say. It was only last January I finally talked him in to signing up for life insurance through my company. The plan started on March 1; Matt died on February 5; I assume they would have figured out another reason to deny me, had it not been those 25 days.

So there I was the night of his death, without one moment to discuss anything with him. He lay with emergency workers surrounding him, and unbeknown to me I was about to make 100s of decisions for him over just the next 7 days alone, and I did not have one concrete answer. How stupid of us. With the help of his parents, my parents, my church, our friends, his siblings, and my own deep understanding of Matt we all made it through. I am fine. But oh, how I wish those decisions could have been easier. Oh, how I wish this grief journey could have been less stressful on me, and subsequently on his children.

So, I have decided to give a little martial advice; "Uh-oh" I can hear the people say :). I am going to go over some topics throughout my next few posts that I would encourage all married couples, especially those with young children, to discuss. I know it is not fun. It can be emotional. It is also responsible, respectful, and deserving of your time and energy to do so. My suggestion is to make a written list of these decisions, and to review and update them every year.

Today, I'll start with two easy ones . . .

1) Prepare yourself with life insurance. I know it is a pain. The physicals, the investigations, the questionnaires, etc. Imagine though, if your spouse could spend the first year of their life as a widow/er doing what they should be, grieving you. Instead of, let's say, buying and selling a home. Selling your property, to make ends meet. This one should be a given in most homes, and I hope that at least half of my readers already have this one accomplished.

2) In which situations would you like your children to see you before you die? If you end up on life support, breathing but not conscious, would you want your children to be able to see you. To say goodbye? This was something I struggled with. My heart wanted Evelyn to be there, but most thought it was probably not wise. I trusted them, and I still do, but I don't know what Matt would have wanted for Evelyn. There are lots of other scenarios besides this one, but it comes down to whether or not you would want your children to see you still alive, but not as your true self, in order for them to say goodbye.

I will continue to add to this post throughout the month. God bless each of you. Thank you for continuing down this path with me. Love to you all!

Apologies

2011-11-08T19:45:00.003-06:00

I'm sorry I couldn't have done more.

It became clear early on in therapy that there were far more haunting events in my past besides just the singular day of Matt's death. Tragic events that I held so close to my soul I was simple unable to identify truth from lies. Which is why when I started therapy after last February we didn't jump directly into the day he died. Maybe because it was still too soon, or maybe because my other wounds needed attention first. However, when the season of firsts hit earlier this fall it was obvious it was time to set aside the work I was doing, and focus on Matt's death in regards to how I had planted this date in my mind's eye. I would have never known the weight I was wearing had it not been for my therapy. And so I share this in hopes that someone else can identify with the weight I was unknowingly carrying upon my shoulders. That someone else can be assured that your loved one knows you did all you could.

I'm sorry I didn't save you.

I know that I did everything I could. Matt did not seem to have anything more than a common cold when he went to bed that Friday. He was not showing signs, or complaining about difficulty breathing. When he arose, and could not breath, I called 911. When the operator told me to give him breaths, I did. When instructed to stand aside, I did. I called on God to save him. I averted Evelyn's eyes so that she could not see. I contacted his family so they were able to all be there to say good-bye. I made the right decisions about organ donation, and when to pull the breathing machine. I made sure he was prayed over. I did the best I could on that terrible day.

I wish I could have stopped death from coming.

I know that it wasn't my fault. I know in a rational tangible way, but I found out this week my soul didn't agree. I found out this week that what I needed was Matt to reassure me that he knew. In other moments, while re-living past experiences, I have seen the face of Jesus. I have forgiven others. I have forgiven myself. It was Matt that I needed this time. I envisioned him standing in that bathroom, the place which he had collapsed. I saw him putting his arms around me tightly. I saw him reach his big hands to my face, look in my eyes, and say, "You did everything you could to save me. I know this. I love you."

But death won that day.

See, none of this would be so terrible if it didn't affect every other aspect of my healing. I am new this week. I am lighter. I can imagine what it was like to be in Matt's presence again. Not Matt who is lying almost dead on a hospital bed. Matt who flew around our home with lightening speed, spouting ridiculous jokes, and singing so terribly out of tune. My thoughts of him are no longer overshadowed with guilt, and before this week I hadn't even known they were.

Death will not win forever.

This Is Kingdom Living

2011-10-24T13:07:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting here listening to Brian McLaren's book The Secret Message of Jesus, which I highly recommend. I'm sitting here trying to put the message of his book into a blog post, and was continuing to come up short. How can I possibly put into words the ache in my heart, the ache that longs for us to be living out the message of Jesus right now (versus waiting for His return to set it straight for us). Christ desires for us to leave aside consumerism, turn off the images on our computer and TVs that do not glorify him, and start tending to those in need. My heart is in pain at times longing to live it out myself; and even more, to share it with others. Kingdom living is not about "when will it happen", it is about making it happen now. Making it happen as a body, for each other, for His glory. It is possible, but it must be our focus. So how do I contain all this excitement? I was overwhelmed. I should have known.

I should have known to put my hope in Him. I finish up with Part 2 in the book, flick on my Facebook page, and there it is. Some children from Uganda, that I do not know, spelled out what Christ living is for me. I have no idea their situation, but I bet they know what pain is. I bet these children know what it means to go without. I bet they can relate in the some way to what my son will face as he grows to find out he didn't get to know his father. And so, anointed with the Holy Spirit, my sister in Christ - Roxanne, informed me that these children paused "Kung Fu Panda", prayed for us, made Isaac a 'Happy Birthday Isaac' banner, took a picture, and posted it on Facebook for us.

This Is Kingdom Living! So simple. So impactful. So amazing.

To my friends in Uganda, my love to you all. You have brought me tears of joy, and I am so thankful for that. May God bless you with grace and peace. I will look to you for hope in Christ, that someday I will be able to give back to the Kingdom the way you have done for me today!

You can find out more information about my friends here.

You Are Not Here

2011-10-23T09:59:00.004-05:00

Today we will be celebrating your son's first birthday
And you are not here
He will stick his chubby little fist into a giant cake and create a beautiful mess
And you are not here
He will fumble with wrapping paper as Evie sits close by doing the actual work
And you are not here

He has gotten so big, so unlike the last night you saw him. He is a chubby boy, just like you were when you were a baby. He loves to eat, and does so every chance you give him. He's barely crawling, just scooting around, and reaching out - full of curiousity. Curious and yet so content to watch life going on around with a huge smile on his face. He's just beginning to want to stand, to want to be helped walking. He laughs so much. Laughs when Evie tickles him. Laughs when you make faces at him. He is a sweet baby. He snuggles in when you hold him, and he rarley fusses. He loves the silky's you got for Evie and him, remember his was brown. Saying he loves it is putting it lightly. He gets anywhere near it and immediately curls into a type of ball, head first into the silky side of the blanket. He's whole body seems happier in those moments. Oh and he also does this thing when he gets excited, where he lifts his hands, makes fists, and revs them up (we call it the motorcyle).

I really can't describe how painful it is that you are missing this. How unfair I feel it is. How anger, long since forgotten, has reared it's ugly head once more. One of our friends reminded me this morning that, 'Matt always did love a good party.' And she was right. There will be a smile missing in the room today. A voice a little louder than the others that won't be heard. No one will probably show up in a suit, tie, and hat (and possibly sunglasses). We are having a party today that you would have loved, but you are not here.

I miss you.

A Season of Painful Firsts

2011-10-13T15:59:00.003-05:00

Emotions are running so high right now. I haven't felt this down since the first six weeks. It's the time of year. The leaves changing, the weather turning cooler. It's that feeling you get when you smell something you haven't smelled in ages, and the memories of something wonderful melt over you with such a realistic sensation; except now the wonderful is tainted with death.

Our anniversary, my birthday, Isaac's birthday, his birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Evelyn's birthday - In that order. These days are flying at me at a frightening pace, and yet time is slowing down. My hearts aches so bad to see him raking leaves, or putting up Christmas lights (this would not be too early for him to have begun working on that display). I want to celebrate Isaac's first year of life, but I also want to hide from it. I want to look forward to what life is bringing, but it's just not that easy.

I heard Evelyn crying last night after saying goodnight. I went back in to check on her, and she was clutching a photo of dad and her riding on the log chute from Nickelodeon Park at the Mall Of America. I broke down next to her. It was the first time in months we had held each like that, and audibly cried out together to God for peace. It felt good, and it felt awful.

"I just want him to come back to play with me the way he used to."

What do I say to that? Her father was a 7 year old living in the body of a 33 year old, wrapped up with so much energy at times it could be exhausting to just watch him, and topped off with more time than any father I've ever known. He didn't care how much he spent on her, or how long it would take to rig up something fun for her. All that matter was that she was happy.

How do I tell her that he wasn't "normal"? That those are the reasons I loved him so dearly, and yet the reasons we often fought so passionately. Most men grow up. Matt fought that, and I suppose in some ways he won. Evelyn was lucky to have got to experience that person. I can't say the same for Isaac, and that breaks me to the core. Matt should be here for his son's first birthday, he just should be.

The First Kiss

2011-10-03T13:47:00.000-05:00

As Evelyn and I were getting settled into my new vehicle the other day, we decided to pack the 6 disc CD changer with some tunes we could do some car dancing to. As she is flipping through the discs she spots one with Daddy’s handwriting on it, and hands it to me. I tell her that the disc is full of techno, and I’m not sure she would like it, but she insists.

As soon as I popped in the disc I was thrown back six years into Matt’s entertainment room at the old lake house. I remember one of the first dates Matt and I had. We were spending some of our first moments together as a couple playing a little ping-pong, drinking beers, and listening to techno. Ha, perfection.

I look back at Evie and tell her, “Honey, this is the song your daddy and I first kissed to.”

She was jamming out by this point. She had one finger poking the air along to the bass, as I have taught her to do in respect of her father’s favorite (and signature) dance move. She sort of slows down, cocks her head to the side, and lowers her hand. I thought for a moment I had upset her telling her something so intimate, but then wondered if she wasn't just letting the thought sink in.

“Mom?” Because no question can be asked without assurance that I know she is talking to me . . . even if it is only us.

“Yes, honey”

“This is a really weird song to kiss to.”

Smile ... Deep breath .... Silent thoughts. “Well honey . . . your dad wasn’t much of a romantic, but I liked it. I asked him to find this song for me, and he did. It was nice.”

“I guess that is nice. But maybe he thought it was a different CD he was putting in, and this one just got put on by accident.”

Confused, but with a smile on her face she slowly raised her pointer finger and kept on doing the “Mattyo”. How she knows what would be a good song to kiss to or not a good song to kiss to is beyond me, but the innocence of her thought brightened my day.

Who’s to say Rock U by Laurent Konrad wasn’t a good first kiss song – It must have been a half alright first kiss song, since he managed to get himself a second.

What a Difference a Year Makes

2011-09-29T11:33:00.001-05:00

I was standing behind my almost 5 year old daughter this morning, brushing her fine static-y hair, and looked up to glance in the mirror at us. There she was, this glowing shining picture of youthful beauty, and I looked . . . well, tired. Tired, and yet still beautiful. I didn’t condemn myself for looking my age; rather I saw it for what it was. The years have aged me. I am soon to be 32. 32 doesn’t seem so old to some I suppose, depending on where you are standing in this long line of numbers, but because of the last year of my life that 32 seems daunting.

When I was 31 I gave birth to my second child. When I was 31 my husband tragically died in my arms to pneumonia. When I was 31 I had to put a house on the market, in this economy, and sell it. When I was 31 I had to move to a new home. When I was 31I became a single mom.

Maybe I should be ready for 32. Maybe I should be excited. Instead of being ready or excited I’ve found my go to emotion lately is fear. This part of my internal struggle is my doubt in God, and I’m choosing to share it with you. Please . . . handle with care.

My twenties were traumatic; most of those even closest to me do not know the terrors that lay within those years. Most of those traumas were self-inflicted, at least to a point. And I had God through these years. Jesus was there, weeping with me, begging me to take a chance and step out towards Him. It took a while, but I finally did. I am now beginning to scratch the surface of healing those wounds internally through therapy, and I would not wish this on anyone. Reliving those traumas in order to understand the reality of what I did does not define my worth is the most petrifying and painful mental battle I have ever had to endure. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I pray it will be worth it.

So . . . my twenties sucked, and when I turned thirty I had built a stronger relationship with God, one in which I trusted in Him. A relationship that meant turning to him for answers, and following those answers. I was excited to turn thirty; I was excited to see what He had in store. And then 30 happened, which looked different that 31, but it was also filled with pain, anguish, trauma, change, and anger. Then there was 31.

And now? 32.

I find myself driving in my car promising God I will endure anything for Him. I cry over my steering wheel, voice shaking, as I plead with him for mercy on my life. I fear God now more than I ever have before. His provisions have proven nothing short than miracles. He provides for us, and He loves us – there is no question there. And refinement through suffering is the most sure way to becoming more Christ-like, which is my ultimate desire. But I am tired. I am scared of what is next - not hopeless that he doesn’t have plans for me - but scared of the suffering that will go along with that. There will always be hard times, I know this. And I am still young, I know that as well. But, God, I just would like a little breather; a couple years to enjoy my kids, learn about you, grow in Christ, to reflect, to gain confidence . . . . to heal.

The most I can do in this season of life is rest in Hebrews 12:7. It will be painful, and I must submit. I must remember this is love for me. I can rest assured this endurance will produce in me what His will desires. And I can pray for my peaceful harvest to come soon.

“As you endure this divine discipline, remember that God is treating you as his own children. Who ever heard of a child who is never disciplined by its father? If God doesn’t discipline you as he does all of his children, it means that you are illegitimate and are not really his children at all. Since we respected our earthly fathers who disciplined us, shouldn’t we submit even more to the discipline of the Father of our spirits, and live forever?

For our earthly fathers disciplined us for a few years, doing the best they knew how. But God’s discipline is always good for us, so that we might share in his holiness. No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.”

I Am Convinced

2011-09-22T11:03:00.002-05:00

It’s been almost a month since I’ve written a word. Nothing seems to go the way I think it will go; so it seems the smart thing to do would be to stop worrying about the way it will go. To place myself directly into the faithful hands I claim to stand upon, relax, and enjoy the world around me. So easy to type; not so easy to live.

Mostly, I’m busy. Mostly, I’m tired.

I’m also surrounded, overwhelmed, excited, confused, happy, and frustrated.

Surrounded by those who love me . . . my children, my parents, my friends, my church, Brad, and so many more. Overwhelmed by the to-do list, that didn’t even exist in life prior to Matt’s death, now haunting my desk with an endless array of menial tasks. Excited that I have decided to start school again; this time to finish with a degree. Confused, even still, as to how I got where I am, why it was my life it happened to, and what this means for where I am going. Happy the children and I are healthy and getting settled in our new home. Frustrated by, well, aren’t we all frustrated some of the time?

I’ve been listening to Romans 8 lately. Intently. Patiently. Waiting on it to explode in my soul. There are a million treasures God has stored amidst these 948 words. There are words like flesh, Spirit, God, suffering, heaven, hell, angels, and demons. These words are moving. They are exciting. They remind me that God is hyper-present in our lives. Not just for a widowed mom of two, but for all of us. We are all suffering with Christ, but the reward of that suffering is great, and not the reward we catch ourselves waiting on promised after this life. I'm talking about the reward we are living right now.

Romans 8 tells a story about a God who loves us. Who loves us so much he not only let us have His Son, but allowed us to crucify that Son for our own sake.

And after all that . . . after love . . . and sacrifice . . . . and death . . . and resurrection -- there was Sprit. Spirit left behind to live in us, to be in our flesh.

His Spirit . . . In our flesh. In our bones. In our blood.

The flesh that succumbs to the world. The bones that rattle in frustration over things far too small for such anger. In the blood that boils when we have to wait for things we want now. He is there. He is the one that goes before us and reminds us that we no longer our bound by the laws of this world, and so he will see to it we no longer succumb. He is the one that moves us away from frustration and into action for those who can not act on their own. He is the blood that warms us to the social injustices of those who can not afford healthcare, those who need food, and those who need clothes.

It is that moving, that warming, we should follow. When we follow Him who was sent to go before us we are living the reward now. We will find peace and grace and joy. You have the capability to make a difference. Ask for it. Look for it. And act on it.

My First Guest Post

2011-08-29T22:35:00.007-05:00

Kurt Willems is an Anabaptist writer, and I am honored to say today I am guest posting on The Pangea Blog, which is the place he calls home. Part of his life story is one of a church leader who found himself hiding behind doctrine and religion, and instead of staying put he followed the Spirit when it told him to "come out of the theological closet". He is real, uplifting, inspiring, and he always makes me laugh. He is someone I relate to, connect with, and respect greatly. He is currently working on promoting a video for Compassion that deals with the need to supply clean water for everyone on the planet - watch the video here and the vote for it here!

The first post I read of Kurt's was the one comfortably stationed on his home page at all times, "You Might Be An Evangelical Reject If ...". When I read it for the first time I laughed, nodded, and 'Amen'ed my way through the entire list. Kurt's ability to address {and question} in a light-hearted {and relevant} manner what I sometimes feel {and think} was beyond refreshing.

Through our social media connections I now call Kurt a friend. He asked me to write a post in regards to my grief journey, and I was happy to. I'm excited to share that guest post with you, my readers. It starts like this ...

"Imagine it’s a Friday night like any other. Your husband, sick from a cold, went to bed early. So you decide to spend some time alone. You pick out a good bottle of wine and some scrap-booking supplies, and spend a quiet evening enjoying some Riesling, being with your thoughts, and reminiscing on family times through the photos laid out before you. Around two in the morning your evening of solace comes to an end. Since the better half isn’t feeling well, it will no doubt be you getting up early the next morning with your two little ones.

As you hit the landing of the two-story home, you look up the stairwell, and sitting there still as a statue in the bay window is Jesus. He doesn’t have the long blond hair and blue eyes your faithful Lutheran grandmother always led you to believe He did, but nonetheless you would know Him anywhere. Your knees buckle, your stomach lurches, and you get so dizzy you almost fall over. The ‘Jesus Christ?’ uttered under your breath is far too ironic. Your mind races – it doesn’t feel like the rapture, and since you don’t qualify for the next virgin birth – you know this can’t be good.

He reaches out for your hand, and you go to Him. He then speaks, as kindly as one would imagine Jesus would. He tells you that when you finish the walk up to the bedroom, the room you share with your beloved, your spouse will wake up and be unable to breathe."

Please visit The Pangea Blog here to see the rest, and don't forget to leave a comment there and tell him what you think. Enjoy, and thank you!

Diversify

2011-08-25T10:46:00.007-05:00

So I have now had this widow's blog for just about six months. For those of you who know me, or have spoken to me about it, I am really enjoying it. I enjoy being able to write, being able to be honest, being able to share things with others in hopes that they can find some comfort here. I enjoy following what I believe is God's calling for me. And I have had the feeling for some time that I should diversify a little. I have more going on in my heart then just what life is like being a widow. This blog is holding me back in some ways that I don't think are still healthy. It narrows my audience, and it narrows my topics. I want to share more. At the same time I want to give the readers of this space the chance to continue to follow it for the reasons they started; to hear about hope in the midst of loss, to learn about Matt, to watch over the kids in some capacity, and help me along my grief journey.

I feel I have a sense of a plan, but it will start with this . . . I'm going to over the next month introduce some new blogspot blogs. One will be poetry, one will be short daily inspirations, one will be humor, one will be dealing strictly with my Christian walk, and one will be for my creative outlet (artsy stuff) -- they will all be deeply connected to my walk with Jesus, because there is simply no separating Him from any facet of my life. (I've linked to the one I've got a good start on already above). Each has it's own use to me; mainly a use in stretching my writing abilities, and my blogging consistency. Teaching me to use other avenues of my gift to see how I can help, share, and be creative.

I invite you to check them out, and see if any of them interests you. If one does please use the email subscriber in the top right corner of any of these blogs you like to sign up to receive an email when I post something new (and if you haven't done so for this blog, I would encourage you too!). As far as my Widow's Rant goes I've been working on a book of Matt's life from the time I met him until his death. The book is really just a gift I'm giving to myself, but there are stories in there I would like to share and so I imagine for the next few months that will be the main content of this blog. For those of you who know Matt you know that it should be a fun ride (and I encourage any of my readers to throw out stories to me in the comments - in which both Matt and I were a part of - that you would like to see me put into story format and share:).

My goal is to someday have a site where I can converge all these topics in one place that would be my own singular space, but for now I'm still learning and growing in this place. I'm having fun, and trying to follow where the Spirit is leading me. It's time for me to stretch out into other areas, and see what happens.

Thank you to all of you who have supported me in this journey. Thank you to everyone who is reading! If you are connecting with what I write here I continue to encourage you to share my work, because that is my ultimate goal in this whole thing. To use my writing to connect, encourage, and fellowship with others, and to glorify God within that.

I have also been asked recently to guest post on another writer's Christian blog. He is someone I have great respect for, and enjoy reading immensely. It's something I am very excited about, so please look for that link which should be coming in the next couple weeks.

The Struggles of Single Parenting

2011-08-24T14:24:00.002-05:00

As I continue to heal from my loss of Matt I notice the more time that goes by the more the grief changes from sad thoughts to happy memories. There are so many areas I feel I'm growing, continuing forward, and moving through the hard part, but the one thing that continues unchanged is the struggles I face in a single parent home. I feel so inadequate. I cleaned my house for the first time since I moved this week (this confession disgusts me). And I'm still exhausted from this task three days later. I used to clean my house top to bottom each week, pick up everyday, prepare and clean up a meal, and do laundry as one fluid task. Now it's as if I have no time to get any of these things done the way I wish. The laundry gets started, and forgotten. Two days later my washed clothes now reek of mildew, and the stuff in the dryer is so wrinkled I have to start over. Dinner remains to be a point of frustration for me. Evelyn is such a picky eater, and I've never been a foodie - unless we're talking chocolate I'm sort of a take it or leave it kind of girl when it comes to food. Somehow my time and motivation was simultaneously cut in half when I lost Matt, and I suppose that makes sense. And yet, I refuse to just let this feeling of inadequacy in the way I now run a home be the new status quo.

All this to say, I don't have much inspiration for this part of my frustration at the moment. What I want is solid ideas on how to feel more in control. Meditations I how I can let go of the need to control, without living in a state of chaos. Advice on how to get a four year old to help, and not feel as though she is being left out, or that mom must always put work and house tasks before her. So I'm just throwing this out there to my readers. What works for you? What doesn't? What are your tricks?

I would love to hear any responses you'd be willing to give!

Seeing Matt Each Day

2011-08-22T19:14:00.005-05:00

In the car yesterday Evelyn said something to me that she says quite often, "I wish I could just see daddy." It's heartbreaking, and up until that day I always fumbled with my answer. I told her I wanted to see him too. I told her that we will always have pictures and memories. I told her that he will always live on in her heart. And, at times, some of those things gave her some comfort, but it never felt as though I was helping her the way I desired.

The answer that I gave to her on this day came from a day I had last week. I was changing Isaac's diaper. There he was peaceful and serene, just laying in on his changing table. He was looking up at me, and me down at him. He wasn't smiling, he was just being. He blinked. And there was Matt. He blinked again; and again, I saw Matt! It was now me blinking, but they were blinks to hold back tears. Everything about Isaac's eyes were shining brightly, and I could see Matt alive again in that very moment. It was exhilarating.

So on this date when Evelyn told me that she wished she could see her dad I felt a little leap in my heart. I had an answer, and I was excited to share with her. I told her that she could see her daddy anytime that she wanted by simply looking at her brother. That both Isaac and her were each half of daddy. That in their own special ways we could see daddy in each of them.

I continued to tell her what it is about her that reminds me of her father. Her attributes are far more personality related. She repeats phrases over and over, a funny quirk her father definitely was known for (for those of you who know him the following might ring some bells 'M i k e J o n e s' 'Foove-a-lyn-duv-a-lyn' 'Everybody loves the Maggie-Mags' ... I could go on for hours, but I'll save some for another time).

Evelyn understood. She got it. She looked happy. She watched Isaac for the next ten minutes straight, wonderment on her face. It was nice to be able to give her some wisdom that actually brought her real peace. It was nice to see her smile, instead of frown, after a discussion about her father. It was a nice step forward.

My Own Contribution: 'Dare to Share'

2011-08-11T19:59:00.010-05:00

It is time for me to share something in this space. Something real. Something raw. Something that is on my heart, and has been for some time. Something that new widows face. Something that is hard. Apart from the words woven together on this screen, I have been quietly dealing with families; with mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. Apart from the faithful followers of my blog I have addressed this issue within my church walls; with my pastor, my elders, and my friends. I have bled this thing dry, and then stood up dusted myself off and continued on down the same path I was on. Why? Because I feel this is a provision God has blessed me with in the aftermath of Matt's death. More pointedly, it is one of the most cherished provisions God has provided.

In my last post when I was speaking of reprocessing events I came across something disturbing. I discovered that there were many things I kept 'secret' from Matt. Not because I didn't want to tell him, but because I think if I had it would have been a further place of hurt for me. Back then this seemed acceptable, it seemed right. It doesn't anymore. I can't place blame for this fact on either of us. I was anxious and had no self worth. Saying he was a poor communicator misses the mark by a long shot, but it will do. Overall, we weren't good in the arguing arena. If I shared these 'secrets', even the lies, they would have been brought back up in an unattractive way, at an inappropriate time. And the feelings they brought to the surface in both of us would have been shoved down inside.

It was in my therapist's office that I stumbled across this fact. She asked me what the top five worst things I had ever faced were, and as I began to tell her I became flushed. My whole body heated up. I felt like I had scarlet fever. My head became light. My stomach turned . . . I had never told anyone this before. See - there were others involved so I assumed in some fashion I guess I had shared it - because I had "shared" it with them. It was in that dizzying moment I became acutely aware that forgiveness from God is not to be mistaken as an alternative for human to human confession. Sitting there in that chair I opened a rusty, dark, and murky cage that sat in the deepest corner of my heart. I reached into that cage, took one of those ratty old stories, and I threw it across the room. As it spilled from me I could almost see it; the story that consumed me from within for years like a monster. It was now darting over the carpet, small as a mouse, looking for a hiding place. I had rid my heart of something dark. It had gone out, and although I knew that event happened, it's ability to control me was changing.

Let's be honest though, our therapist's offices are the easy way out, right? I fought going to therapy up until a couple weeks ago because, 'Therapy never does anything for me'. I now realize that I have yet to have a therapist that I've told everything too. I even have anxiety about them thinking I am 'less than' . . . sad, really.

I will not be sharing with you my dark and ugly story, because it doesn't define who I am. Because I am not healed from those wounds yet. Because that is not what God is calling me to do. If at some point He does calls me to share those dark moments in my past in order to help others then I will. But for now? I'm going to share who I shared this story with. His name is Brad. And he's my boyfriend (I feel a little '12 stepish' right now . . . Hi. My name is Stephanie. I am a widow. And I'm dating.). Our story will come later. Now is not the time. Now is simply the time for me to breath into the universe the one secret I was still holding from those kind enough to have continued traveling this grief journey with me by reading what God has written on my heart.

Since I made the decision to start dating there have been presumptions about my state of grief. Unsureness about my readiness. I've received questions about my motives. I've been tested on whether this can be a Biblical blessed relationship (I believe it can, and is). And not just me, but Brad as well. He has stood by me, and my two kids, through Hell on Earth. Loved me despite - for one of the first time in his life - his character and motives being questioned. None of these questions, tests, or presumptions were meant to hurt us -- for the most part it is for opposite reasons. We are loved by many, and those who love us are trying very hard to protect our hearts. We recognize this, respect this, and wouldn't ask for it to be any other way. It doesn't make it easier to decide, as a new widow, to let someone into your messy life. It doesn't make it easier, but as I said before despite the questions, comments, and concerns we are doing our best to travel this road with gentleness, thought, and care. We are being as careful as we can, while still trying to praise God in the face of this amazing relationship He has given us.

So there it is. Honestly, I have fear over this post. I fear your judgment. I fear inflicting pain on those who love Matt. I fear people thinking that this somehow takes away from my love of Matt (it doesn't). I fear the 'what if' statements. I fear the assumptions that I can not grieve while in a new relationship (but I can and I am). I fear all these things, but at the same time, I also want to honor a God who has blessed me beyond belief. I want to honor Him by sharing with the world just one more amazing gift He has given me during this long and very difficult year. So thank you . . . thank you for letting me share something with you.