Dream: Woman Wading

~ Woman Wading ~

I seldom, if ever, wake up knowing I have dreamed.  Yet this morning was one of those rare days.  Makes me wonder, why this morning? The only thing I can think of is that I knew going to sleep last night that this would be a totally open ended day. No phone date to work around. No one stopping by. Some notes to write or other pleasant ‘might do’ items on my daily list. No musts or shoulds breathing down my neck. 

After a wonderful weekend with guests, Monday was empty and perfect for regrouping. Tuesday was a rare gorgeous Spring day with my grandson who came to help clean up the yard - followed by a fun zoom with widowed friends in the evening.  Wednesday was loose with a long wonderful phone call scheduled in the afternoon. But today, nothing is scheduled. I love a totally open ended day like this when it happens. I often spend much of it writing. It feels extra indulgent in my already indulgent life with no one to be responsible for but myself. 

So I wonder why I woke this morning knowing I’d just been walking in a huge lake - or perhaps it was the ocean. Not dressed for swimming. Just in shorts and summer top. I’d been sitting on the sand in the sun and simply decided to get up and walk out into the shallow water.  Then  finally, when up to my waist, quietly turned around and walked back to the shore.  I don’t know if I was alone or with others - or who those others may have been.  I was simply enjoying myself. 

For 5 years now I’ve been having quiet days alone. Adjusting to suddenly being on my own. Thankful for my home and all the memories captured here. For my family. Yet without John there is always the ache for what was so long familiar - now severed.  The camaraderie of long lived love. 

My main occupation now is to read and write. In need of having a purpose in my life, (this chapter where for the first time in all my days, absolutely no one needs me or depends on me for anything) I study and ponder a great deal - which occupies most of my time. Not only does no one need me, I have not found a niche in which to do for others in a meaningful way. A nudge to participate in the give and take of what was once daily living. I do participate in zoom gatherings a few times a week. Also in phone calls, texts etc with my kids. But I think I’m past the time for me to go out to volunteer. At 84, no longer driving, and not steady on my feet, I don’t see much that I could do. 

I rarely watch tv or movies. But this week, for some reason, I’ve craved escaping into a film - and have watched one Prime Movie each day or evening. Pure escape. Often silly. Totally non purposeful. I don’t know how long that yen will continue. Nor what switched in my mind that something once deemed frivolous and unattractive suddenly has become a delightful escape!

Perhaps it is connected to other changes I am working toward. Within a year (I hope) I will be leaving the warm blanket of this old home where we/I have lived almost 45 years - and downsizing to an apartment in a Sr Living Community.  While I am comfortable here, I’ve become quite isolated and find myself more than ready all of a sudden to be in community again. A place where I can physically participate in as many or few activities as I please, yet be self sufficient in my own apartment. I’m quite  excited at the prospect. 

After so many years of being active in one group or another, the mainstay of which has always been our church, death, and then the pandemic - along with aging, has effectively put an end to all of that. My group contacts are mostly via zoom now and I guess I’m suddenly ready for more. I’m not looking for a bosom buddy, but I do hope to make a few friends in my new place. It does seem to be a friendly climate. When I have toured or visited, the people tend to smile when passing in the halls with a pleasant hello.  

Here in my neighborhood of large old city homes - most of which are now apartments, even after all these years, strangely, I don’t know most neighbors. We used to take frequent evening walks. Now I cannot do that - nor do I care to by myself. In the summer I often work on the front porch and nod a warm hello to folks walking by who might catch my eye. Some may even be familiar, but I don’t know them.  I’m hoping to get to know a few people at the Meadows. 

So back to the young woman in my dream. She is confident, happy and content.  As she walked deeper into the water, she was tempted to dive in and swim but it had been so long she wasn’t sure she still knew how to swim, (nor, she thought, was she prepared with a towel) so continued enjoying her wet walk.  

Perhaps she is a reflection of the woman I am today. Sticking to what she is confident about, yet moving forward with joyful anticipation. A bit  cautious yet eager to try something new.

JoMae

4/7/22 

Words

~ Words Words Words ~

At times I’ve followed writing prompts to discover my word for the day. One word to ponder, carry with me and/or write about. Then there are periods such as this past year with long unframed days at home, when I’ve fallen into the habit of waking each morning tuned in for an idea heard or read to jump out at me as a prompt destined to become the subject of my daily free write.  It may be a totally fresh notion or hit me as the perfect addition to round out yesterday’s unfinished effort. 

Think of all the people on their own for hours, days on end and consider all the quiet musing going on! Remembering, imagining, worrying, figuring things out.  And as we sort out life’s blows and blessings, a lot of insight occurs. A lot of learning happens. Some ponder while making puzzles, doing handwork or various hobbies, working in the kitchen, the woodworking shop or garden. Those of us who favor phrases, write words down so we can look at them again - or simply to anchor their ideas more firmly in our minds.

Today’s prompt came while reading Kathy Swaar’s blog post, ‘Give me a Word.’ Halfway through I stopped to jot down thoughts of my own which came to mind. Then back to finish hers. Join me if you wish. I always learn something from Kathy's work. You might too! 

Give Me a Word - 2021 Edition - “Hold” — kathyswaar.com  

And yes, I’ll give you a word as well. My word for this season is HOPE. Spelled T.R.U.S.T.  But that is another post!

JoMae

1/15/21

Labor Day

~ John's Labor of Love ~

~ Labor Day ~

I wake to another Monday Morning.  One that should feel a little different because this is Labor Day. A holiday. We often did not make a big thing of holidays. Simply spent them together. We might not go any where or gather friends around, yet the day felt different.  That in itself colored the hours as we lingered over coffee or fixed a hamburger. 

When we spent holidays alone we liked it that way. I marvel over what a difference it makes when a couple is alone or when one is alone.  This day too, I’ll spend with myself.  And it’s ok. Almost 4 years now, I should be used to it.  

Thankfully, I keep busy with my pages.  Books. A lot of thinking. The pages I fill with words born of that thinking - and with my blog pages and other media waiting for the work I wish to share.  

It will be a day like any other.  Every once in a while I’ll look up and remember that this is Labor Day.  I’ll read articles considering this special day. I’ll wander to the kitchen for another cuppa and tell the sink full of dishes - hey, it’s Labor Day after all.  Maybe later. Then return to my favorite chair and the page I’m working on.

At first, coming to grips with being on my own, I saw this as a new chapter. So different than the one before. So unexpected, foreign and disorienting. A chapter difficult to find my way into; difficult to write.  Gradually I realized, these years are not just a new chapter.  This is a whole new book.

I’m trying to make it a good book. One that shows how in every loss lies buried gifts - to be opened when the time is right. Small seeds to nurture into blossoms.   New responsibilities to grow into. A book reminding us that every ending is a new beginning - and to trust, to savor it’s unfolding. For I’ve learned already that when/if another loss occurs, I will be ok. I might be scared, but will be ok.  

If mine were a real book, I’d name it 

~ Hope ~

JoMae

9/7/20

New Normal

12/9/19 note:

Dear friends, especially those who are still in your first year, today i ran across this note on how my new normal felt at that point (8/7/17).  On being comfortable with solitude, I still tend to hibernate, but in time have become far more comfortable with it. I’m thinking of all of you still in your early stages of this journey and share it with hope for continued healing, love and encouragement.

~~~~~~~~

August 7, 2017

My New Normal

Most mornings after breakfast, I settle in my chair, open my laptop and think, write etc for a few hours. I might not step outdoors for almost a week if I don’t need to run to the store. All the while feeling slightly embarrassed about it, slightly guilty, sort of a concern that others, if they were aware, would think there is something wrong with me. Wondering, what would people, my own kids, think if they knew how truly I am hibernating here. As if this is something I must explain or make excuses for if asked. As if this hibernation is abnormal. I know it will not always be this way, and yes it is abnormal - from what life was 7 months ago - before John died. But for now it is normal. It is OK.

This now is my day. My work. My purpose. My joy. I can send away that ‘shoulds’ monkey on my shoulder and embrace this abundant time of quiet I have for healing and for writing. I can drop the apologetic stance and mindset I’ve been carrying around inside of me. It feels like a sigh of relief! It is OK! This is now who I am. I will embrace this new routine and gradually modify it over time. I might even go outdoors and read in the sun for a while this afternoon! -JoMae

Something Taken...

 March 21, 2018

Hi my friends. This is a fresh observation for me, a moment of recognizing something new.

Something Taken, Something Given

I think most couples develop the give and take of compromise. Easing off a little here or there to give the other space. Like a beautiful dance or a jazz duet. Often so subtle as to hardly be noticed. It is what we chose for love. It is what it takes for two unique (sometimes opposite) personalities to get along.

In our marriage, John was the quiet one. Took his time to speak. I was the talker - apt to barge on ahead of him. Especially with friends, I tended to be conscious of this and tried to temper blurting out my opinions somewhat. (not always successfully, I'm sure) It was always there. Occasionally annoying, but usually barely noticed - until last night.

I have not been very social since John died 15 months ago. Last night I met with a few friends for the first time and found myself at ease, enjoying myself and deep into good conversation. I noticed something felt different. Only later did I realize what it was. I was not holding back.

The bad thing is I’ve lost my soul mate, the good thing, I think I’m finding my Self in a new and healthy way. It was a lovely feeling actually. To step out from the past (still holding hearts) and step into the future to find this woman dancing solo, free, eager and able to be responsible for her own self.

So while my great love and anchor has been lost, it appears that something good has also been found. Something taken, something given. I am blessed.

JoMae

Looking Back

~ Looking Back ~ 
A Free Write on Loss and Moving On

As I approach the three year mark of John’s death, I find myself assessingg more closely where I am - as I’ve done each year.  Evaluating what I’ve learned and being thankful for whatever progress has been made.

Today I noticed that each morning lately, as I walk into the living room to crawl into my laptop and get to work, I go to the window and draw back the sheers. I enjoy taking in the street activity without the blurring of the curtains. I’m still barely visible as my chair is tucked in a corner well back in the room.  I see it as a sign of progress in becoming comfortable in my new identity,  my new normal.

The first year, still in shock I now think, I flew alone to California and enjoyed two road trips on my own - all to visit family. All the while wrestling with a million questions, thoughts and feelings, yet determined to accept what I could not change, find my way and do it well - to honor the long marriage so much of my self is rooted in.  

Year two brought a health set back, now remedied, which curtailed all travel and emphasized the ache of doing life without my love. In it, my ‘I can do this’ bubble burst and has never returned in the same way. I haven’t ventured far on my own since.  I became even more than before, a reclusive hermit.  Happy enough and thankful, yet extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious in unfamiliar (and especially old familiar) situations. All the world felt unfamiliar - even the warm familiar of our old home became a silent void of what once was.

Year three I found it easier to be seen. I re-discovered my beautiful front porch and spent long summer hours out there with my books and writing. Offering a smile to passers by if and when I’d catch their eye.  One young man once stopped to mention he had a laptop like mine and loved it.  Later in the summer he stopped again to say he’d miss me - he was moving, joining the girl he loved. I said goodbye and wished him well. A few visitors from the nearby B&B stopped to say hello, and neighbors with their dogs would nod.  I guess I was the old lady on the porch who’d smile and wave back at you!  I no longer felt conspicuous, rather a small part of the community.

So now I observe from indoors. With the curtains open, people passing are no longer fuzzy shadows walking by and I enjoy a clearer focus on my world. I wonder if they notice this small change. Not small to me, it marks a comfort level with my own sense of becoming complete again. Different. Not the old me. Rather, the ‘comfortable in my new skin’ me.  More ready to interact and meet new situations with less angst.  

Each year I find I'm more ready to leave the old wrapped gently in it’s place to visit, meet new friends and form a new familiar. I wonder what year four will bring. One day I’ll have to leave this old home I love, we loved.  I think I will be ready when the time is right. Meanwhile I’ll watch the world go by with this new identity I am adapting to.  Today there are few folks out on the sidewalk and those are bundled warmly against an early frigid snowfall.  The day is dark and snow is falling although most trees still hold their leaves, now laden heavily, their limbs as well all coated white - as soon our whole world will be. 

And I’m inside and warm. Stocked with all I need. At peace with myself and thankful to Godde,  I've become a Happy Hermit!  So blessed.

JoMae

11/11/19 

Fond thoughts and memories today of my dear Aunt Jo,  born 11/11/11 - my namesake. Josephine (although my dad thought it too long a handle and I’ve been JoMae all my life)

One Last Farewell

John & JoMae
August 29, 1959

One Last Farewell

One last farewell to the life I used to know. To a life rich in fond memories of fifty seven years of being one with John. Sixty years ago today was our wedding day. And this is my small celebration of thanksgiving for that day and all the glad years of companionship we shared. 

There are many chapters in a long life. Some we choose and some we don’t. Some we can prepare for and some take us by surprise. Some are a delight and some are simply dreadful to adjust to.  Some are deep wounds that take a long long time to heal - and even then will ache from time to time. 

Widowhood is a wound like that - disorienting every ounce of one’s being. Finding our way in its foreign world can take a long time.  Yet after almost three years on my own following so many as half of a whole, I can attest that in Godde’s Grace good gifts are waiting to be unwrapped even in this chapter. 

Sometimes they hide a while, but always have just been waiting to be found. This I have learned so far - with many lessons still ahead, I’m sure.  So on this day of looking back at many joys and blessings with a grateful heart, I can share that I’ve learned to trust - one step at a time - that new gifts will continue to unfold. In that knowledge, even when the well seems empty, I can greet each morning wondering what insights and smiles the day will bring.  Thanks be to Godde.

JoMae

8/29/19

——

It’s interesting that this piece sort of asked to be written following a bright summer shadowed by a kind of melancholy woven into the many lovely days. I knew this summer would have been our 60th and somehow that haunted me a lot.  Until a week or so before the anniversay, it lifted.  I think I simply got sick of myself wallowing in what couldn’t be. Tired of the inner conversations I had about it, I just closed the chapter one day. I’d had enough of me.  And with joy began a new page.

Our 60th

Love for a Lifetime
August 29, 1959

~ New Skin New Self ~

  (notes on my journey)

No. We didn’t reach our 60th anniversary, yet its date has transformed into a positive landmark on my journey. As the day approached, two an a half years after John’s death, it loomed like an ever enlarging spectre the closer it came. All summer I wondered how I would endure those hours. I’d survived many special days since becoming a widow, yet this one haunted disproportionally. Bringing with it a melancholy shadow floating just beneath the surface of an otherwise amazing summer.

About a week before the dreaded day however, I realized I was simply sick of dwelling on it - of letting a cloud so permeate my days. Something had to change. I decided to instead, try focusing more deliberately on others, to listen and watch for small opportunities to show interest and caring. That small shift in focus seemed to break down some barrier. By the time that monumental anniversary arrived, the shadow had faded to the extent Iwas truly able to quietly enjoy the day.

I’m finally beginning to feel whole again in a way I hadn’t been able to achieve since losing half of my identity. I feel more centered and able. Like I have come home - am finally coming to be at home with my new self. In the ups and downs of grief, I know more downs will surface. I know the joyful ups will follow too.

Our 60th now stands not only as a touch stone to commemorate the wonderful chapter of our long marriage, it also marks a turning point in my quest to discover who I am without John by my side. I’ve shed old skin and now know I am able to fit well into the still tender, still emerging new.

JoMae

9/14/19 

Moving Day

This little mother moved into a tiny apartment tucked within an old fence post a couple weeks ago. She regularly comes to check on her nest and it amazes me to watch her slip into that thin slot to feed her young. She’s fast! It was hard to capture even this blurry photo.

~~ To Bloom Where We Are Planted ~~

It must be a pickup truck moving day today!  It’s June 1st and all morning, pickups of every color have been traveling these four corners in every direction loaded with mattresses, couches, refrigerators etc probably trying to beat the thunder storms predicted for this afternoon.  I’m enjoying the scene from the front porch as folks move house - to and from this apartment filled city neighborhood.  

As I watch, I think about all the different kinds of moves we each make in a lifetime.  I’ve made few house moves in my adult life, having lived with this view for 40 years already - after starting our family in our first home of 15 years.  

Yet in those years I’ve moved from being a new mom to being a great grandmother.  From raising a large family to being empty nesters and later on to the foreign realm of widowhood. I’ve moved from being a mom to being also a foster mom, to volunteering and to running a small book business.  From my childhood understanding of faith,  to traditional Christian views, to a passion for gender equality - including the need to use inclusive language in our understanding and worship of God.  

So many moves on this long path.  So much packing away the old, unloading the new, regrouping and moving on.  So many blessings!  Yet so much of what I started with remains.  From my faith to my children, my love of books and writing, to the furniture of early days which one day will be carted off in pick ups to a senior lodging I suppose - another fresh start and regrouping to adjust to.

Some of our moves are losses. Some gains. Each one contains lessons, seeds of new blessings and gifts to build on.  May we each strive to watch for the gifts, grow the hidden seeds and endeavor always 

to bloom where we are planted.

JoMae
6/1/19

Bookwifery Challenge

Five Day Challenge on my book idea re Reflections on Loss~

John's Garden in Glass
~an icon of love~

The following pieces first appeared on Instagram responding to a #bookwiferyvisibilitychallenge to answer five questions when considering a potential book idea. Exploring the possibility this way helps clarify goals. 

Day 1 - Name Your Message

My message is to bring insight about grieving both to those who have lost recently and are walking through it for the first time and to those who have friends and family who are mourning loved ones.  To share insights into loss one can only learn by walking in those shoes.  To give a glimpse of small moments that show both the hopeless sense of emptiness and absence as well as the glimmers of new that sprout up from this dark place.  To let people see examples of hope, of unwanted gifts which emerge out of the pain of loss.  To help others see that it is possible to accept those ‘unchosen gifts’ and flourish in embracing them.  To show examples that yes, horrible as this is, some good can come out of the sadness.  One can live on.  Grief can be transformed through the unforgotten love it is rooted in. 

Day 2 - NameWhy It Matters

I believe my message matters because when a loved one dies, we who remain find ourselves in uncharted waters, feeling stunned and lost and in need of finding a new identity. New relationships in a once familiar world.  New balance. It will take much time and healing to be centered again. During this time of adjustment and transition to finding your new self, the voices of those who have walked in your shoes will be invaluable. Their words can be both touch stone and guide through this new terrain. Yet in the shock of loss, one may find it difficult to focus, to absorb long articles. I hope my short pieces will hold the hand of someone in deep mourning. I also hope the experience shared will help friends and family better understand the pain. 

Day 3 - Name Who It's For

Who am I writing for?  First of all, I wrote these pieces for myself.  They emerged from journaling my way to healing after losing John, my husband of 57 wonderful years.  Most of them came out in short poems which captured a moment of insight or reflection on this loss.  Also the hope and healing which often surprised me.  My hope is that these short reflections may be a touch stone for others encountering loss. For both the immediate loved one and friends/family wanting to better understand the many dimensions of loss. 

Loss of a loved one, deposits those left behind in a world of unknown territory. Suddenly we must learn to maneuver strange, confusing thoughts and terrain. Often we are left to translate well meant words that otherwise would hurt.  All the while knowing that before our own loss, we didn’t ‘get it’ either.

I know that at first, I was unable to focus long enough to tackle lengthy articles or blog posts on grief - which became valuable to me later. So maybe my pieces will hold the hands of those whose mourning is still raw, and bring comfort.

Day 4 - Name What You Wish They Knew

What I wish they knew, starts with what I wish I’d known. What I didn’t 'get' when my own Dad died. What I didn’t understand about what my Mom was going through.  The visceral reality of absence. The silence. The void.  Not that anyone else can fill that void, but the acknowledgement of it is so important. A call, card or text from time to time to check in to see how a grieving friend is doing and if they need anything, goes a long way - even if nothing is needed. It is comforting to be reminded you are not forgotten.

I wish I’d known how long the emptiness remains - even when life gets busy again and others think all must be back to some kind of normal. I wish I’d understood these things when Mom lost Dad and when other friends were mourning their losses. I wish I’d known to recognize that the smiles of early mourning are likely masks donned for stepping out, yet discarded behind closed doors.  I wish they knew how self-conscious many feel, not wanting pity. Preferring to stay inside instead. 

Before death comes for one we love, it’s almost impossible to imagine surviving such a blow. I wish I’d known, and others too, that as life goes on, unsought gifts slip in - not to replace the grief, the love you had, but to grow from it as you find your new identity without your beloved one. That out of the seeds of your buried love, you will blossom once again. 

I am so thankful that I had a hobby, in my case it is writing. Alone, now on my own, I let the solitude embrace me and dove into this thing I love to do. I lost myself in words to pass the hours and sort out the confusion. So I encourage others to consider what brought you joy before, whether cooking or music, knitting or gardening… - let yourself be lost in it as time allows. Dive deep. That too, is what I wish others who are grieving, know to do.  

Day 5 - Name How You Can Help

Perhaps I could help by offering thoughtful words in small bites meant to share the heart of one who has also grieved. Someone who has walked in their unfamiliar shoes and struggled with bereavement first hand. While each person’s reality is vastly different, I have found comfort in the insights gleaned from others who are grieving. From others who are members of this unchosen tribe into which we have all been pulled, kicking and screaming. I hope that sharing these vignettes of moments on my journey might hold someone’s hand by being the voice of another who has experienced a deep loss; might be a virtual listening ear to one who is grappling with the same questions and uncertainties I’ve had. 

JoMae
10/29/18

New Seeds

John's Spring Garden

New Seeds in the Garden - A Reflection on Healing

Most of us who have lost a spouse or experienced some other untimely loss, deeply understand the pain, the impenetrable emptiness, the visceral reality of absence.  Death leaves a shocking void which can never be filled and will always mark a line dividing after from before.  

I know that many of you have been on this road before me. I know each tale of grief and healing is unique and moves at a different pace and direction. I have learned much from experiences shared by others. Here is a small glimpse of mine. 

With Godde’s help, I am finding that the void can be molded, transformed into a platform, a garden, if you will, for finding new happiness in life.  For building the ‘after’ you.  For discovering and identifying the person you will now become - after the loss of one so much a part of you.  When  John died, half of me was gone, the rest of me was deeply wounded - floundering and wondering who I would now be after this paradigm shift in my life.  

By Grace, the silence of our empty house, at first so ominous and heavy, became a haven for the hobby I delighted in and for years had diligently carved out time for. The way John loved his garden and his woodworking, I love to write. That is where I’ve always turned to sort life out. So, now given endless time and silent space, I crawled into my words and began to find myself again.  

Losing myself for hours at the keyboard, wrestling with this new reality, reflecting on my world, I soon discovered to my surprise that I was beginning to feel content. I felt comforted, found a sense of purpose, developed new interests. What had seemed impossible became a blessing. Not the blessing I had wanted, but a true blessing none the less.  

Today, embraced by memories, the home we formed together, the love of friends and family, and mindful of Godde’s hand holding me, I am deeply thankful. 

Then too, it’s Spring!  And even in the Autumn of my life, I’m looking at new beginnings - even as I am immersed in the joy of an old familiar hobby where I will continue writing my way toward more healing and discovery.  

This Spring I’ve reached a bit into John’s beloved garden, whose beauty I’ve mostly enjoyed from the porch all these years. It was his palette, his design.  As I clean it up and dig a little, I see him there and think of things to write and say. His heart was there - and mine. 

Dear heart, I’ll meet you in  the garden.

JoMae

5/3/18

Till Death Do Us Part

    
 ~~~Till Death Do Us Part~~~

As a couple ages, thoughts of death begin to enter the mind. One of us would likely be left behind some day. Although in decent health, we sometimes spoke of it. Quite often, actually. Yet in my heart of hearts I couldn’t go there. I could only see the impossibility of going on alone. I couldn’t imagine how I could survive—or want to—the loss of John.

We walked with Godde and knew that Divine Love and Grace would save us from despair when that day came. We lived with that trust and had experienced abundant blessing in our lives. Yet I froze in fear each time I’d try to think about it. To prepare. We were aging. John was sometimes frail.

And then it happened. John was suddenly gone. Stunned and in shock, surrounded by the love of family and friends, I soon realized I’d not fallen into some pit of despair. Christ’s Grace was there, preventing me from falling. Rather than a desperate sense of being buried alive, the loss of any will to live on, I somehow saw steps that needed to be taken. A farewell service to honor John had to be planned. One small purpose after another led me through each day. Looking back, I marvel with thanksgiving that, while Godde often pulls us out of pits, this time those Beloved hands held me from falling in.

Many, many have survived this path before me; we each have our stories. I guess my message is, don’t freeze in fear when you think about it. Christ’s Grace is sufficient and will guide you and give strength and confidence when sorrow comes. You can count on it. For that, I am eternally thankful. It is hard. I miss John, but it was like a miracle to be saved from falling apart, to land in Godde’s arms instead of in a pit.

It’s been more than seven months since John left this world. I often wonder what his new life is like. I imagine his spirit is full of joy and peace and purpose. I, too, find myself in a new world, on a new path. Everything has undergone a paradigm shift. Our home, so full of memories, is the same, yet his voice, his presence, is silent. Or I might say, his presence echoes in the silence. Even so, I am amazed to find joy and peace on this new journey, and even a fresh sense of purpose. For that, I praise Godde with thanksgiving.

We were an item, John and I, as are so many couples the world over. For almost sixty years, we wove a strong yet fragile shell around us. It was a beautiful wrap even with its many flaws. We loved and respected each other, but perhaps the most important key to our long-lived love was that we basically accepted each other the way we were.

I once found a small wall hanging that said: “I want for you what you want for you.” That rather flimsy bit of cloth hung on the wall in our room for a long time, quietly reminding us, when angry or in disagreement, of a sense of balance governing our marriage. Our unspoken goal, in spite of being two very different people, was to put the other first. We often failed in all of this, only to soon find our way back into the warm harmony of our shell.

In later years, the children long grown, our individual threads became more interwoven, threading through and around each other so that when death suddenly took John, it was as if the fabric of our wrap had been ripped apart, forcing me to scramble to mend the brokenness and weave some kind of selvedge to my life, to form some kind of healthy separation so I could continue on alone, to form from the remnants of that broken shell a new security and confidence to move ahead.

Grace has taken on new meaning for me now

JoMae Spoelhof

6/15/17

In August of 2017 this piece was published on ViewPoint, a section of the CFT (Christian Feminism Today) website. 
https://eewc.com/til-death-do-us-part/ 

Mourning Hope

Whether you are mourning the loss of a beloved life partner, a child, a parent, good health  or some other emptiness, these words are for you.  They were born out of the pain of the death of my husband, but they speak to the amazing gift of hope offered through the Grace of Godde in Christ. Grace that enables one small step after another to regain our balance in the face of an unthinkable loss.  

We are each unique and when troubled will find our solace and inspiration in different places.  My John was a gardener and woodworker and those are the areas he would turn to when sorting life out.  He could get lost in his garden or shop.  I imagine he did some of his best praying there.  Beauty emerged in many forms from those favorite spots.

My bent has always been to write.  That is my sorting out place.  I can get lost for hours reading, pondering and writing.  That is when my answers emerge, my hope for the years to come.  So when John died suddenly and I found myself with hours of quiet solitude, it was natural for me to journal my way through the loss.  To capture small discoveries I saw for the first time.  To come to grips with the finality of death.  To remember and reflect. To grieve. And in the process, to discover who I am now. For after almost 60 years of being half of a loving couple, steeped in the commeradarie of that familiar world, there is much to learn about now being on my own.  

As I write this afternoon, I’m facing the first anniversary of John’s death.  Looking back, I have learned so much.  Some of my reflections I have already shared. I hope to keep doing so.  May they be a touch stone for others dealing with loss.  Going back over the work of these past twelve months, editing and tweaking, the words become my garden, my workshop where I get lost in the joy of memory and reflection.  Rambling through these entries, I feel most close to John. That in itself is a blessing.  Here I find meaning. Order in the chaos of brokenness. Perhaps some of these pieces will help others find hope and spark healing ideas as well.  That, dear friends is my prayer. 

Trust in Godde, whose love will sustain you.  Trust what Godde has given you over the years.  Trust who you are in Christ.  Trust what you have learned, whether through failure or success, through gain or loss.  Trust the still small voice of Wisdom in a quiet moment.  Know that Godde is with you every step of the way - even when you forget. As you mourn and slowly heal from the invisible wounds of loss, be patient and know that hope will come again.  You will find meaning again. One small step at a time. Not the same as you have lost, but a new chapter. The page is blank. As you fill it, may you find joy!

JoMae
12/06/17

Birther Godde

As we reflect Godde’s love, as we teach and praise our Beloved Maker, as we serve the ONE who rules our lives, let us not limit the essence of the Divine Mystery with language that pictures our Loving Godde as if only and exclusively male.

You deserted the Rock, who fathered you; 

you forgot the God who gave you birth.  
Deut 32:18 NIV

~~Remember The Godde Who Gave Us Birth~~

Aside from the gender inequity inherent in our world, one reason I find myself determined not to use exclusive language for Godde, is that it diminishes our view of the endless enormity of the Divine.  It shrinks our understanding of the ONE reflected by all created in  Godde’s  image, to honoring only a portion of Godde’s amazing being.

Words draw pictures in our heads, engrave them on our minds and in the hearts of our children. A traditional Sunday morning full of quotes from male theologians, numerous references to our Heavenly Father, Lord, King etc. - and multiple uses of he, his, and him, reinforces the patriarchal picture.

A typical message about Godde tends to render invisible and mute both the feminine face of theGodde who gave us birth and the daughters who bear the divine image along with their brothers

     ~~Prayer~~

Heavenly FatherMother, 

Please speak to our hearts

Whisper your truths to ponder

that we may know you more fully

that we may serve you more truly

As we walk in the Holy Name of

Jesus Christ
Amen

JoMae
10/1/17

Two Faces Into One

TWO FACES OF MY DAYS -

Two opposing tracks weave together in my life these days.  On the one hand, I’m getting used to living in solitary silence.  Even with the radio or TV on, the void is so dense you could cut it with a knife.  I wake to long hours of empty air.  Not feeling very social yet, so no schedule or commitments.  

On the other hand, I wake to an abundance of empty hours and the quiet solitude I’ve always loved and carved out time for.  Now I’m swimming in it and actually making good use of it.  I’m writing my way through this journey.  The blank page each morning has become my good friend!  Some pieces I share and when kudos come, they wrap around me like warm hugs.  

For example, I somehow pulled a muscle in my hip so have stayed in and favored it this week.  Stayed off my feet as much as possible to let it heal.  So it’s been a string of quiet uneventful days.  Phone calls most days, meaningful conversations online, but little or no in person interaction.  

Earlier I joined a private Facebook group for widows and have watched and been impressed with  the caring and encouragement that goes on there. It is a safe place for some to scream their pain and others share small joys of healing. All of us trying to figure out this new world we find ourselves discovering.  Our new normal. Our new identity.  Seeing how our stories, while so different, overlap, the other day I shared one of the piece I’d written about my journey.  The response was kind of overwhelming.  As the hugs and thank yous began to pour in, and women conversed on how my words had helped them, I saw a glimpse of purpose in this quiet week. A sense of confirmation that life has not completely stopped.  That out of this dark silence, perhaps my pondering can bring a bit of solace to another.  A thought which brings me joy.   

JoMae
7/27/17  

Hibernating

MY NEW NORMAL

Most mornings after breakfast, I settle in my chair, open my laptop and think, read and write for a few hours.   I might not step outdoors for almost a week if I don’t need to run to the store. All the while feeling slightly embarrassed about it,  slightly guilty,  sort of a concern that others, if they were aware, would think there is something wrong with me. Wondering, what would people, my own kids, think if they knew how truly I am hibernating here.  As if this is something I must explain or make excuses for. As if this hibernation is abnormal. I know it will not always be this way, and yes it is abnormal - from what life was 7 months ago before John died.  But for now it is my normal.  And it is OK.

This now is my day.  My work.  My purpose.  My joy.  I can send away that ‘shoulds’ monkey on my shoulder and embrace this abundant time of quiet I have for healing and for writing. I can drop the apologetic stance and mindset I’ve been carrying around inside of me. It feels like a sigh of relief!  It is OK!  This is who I am. I will embrace this new routine and gradually modify it over time.   I might even go outdoors and read in the sun for a while this afternoon!  

JoMae

7/19/17

Mending Broken Cords

-- Tulips Every Spring Remind Us That New LIfe Always Follows Winter --

~ Mending Broken Cords ~

Lives long lived in intimate proximity, shape each other for better or for worse.  Thankfully, ours was abundantly for better.  

During many years together, our ways rubbed off onto each other.  Each of our unique manners of being, tempered the other.  Moreover,  in our mutual love and respect we molded ourselves to accommodate our differences - to better fit together.  In many ways we held each other up.  In some small ways, I suppose, in accepting each other’s foibles, we held each other back.

By the time we  began to reach our 80s, many strands were interwoven within that protective shell encasing us. So many nurturing veins ran between and through the two of us that when John was unexpectedly taken, it felt akin to a ruthless ripping apart of con-joined twins. Like an earthquake tearing woven strands asunder.  Suddenly it was over.  The harmony of this intricate duet has gone quiet.  

When one half of a couple dies,  disappears into the mystery of eternity, numerous cords are left dangling and disconnected. The shell which nurtured two, shatters when one is taken. yet the one remaining faces a new journey as well.  Paths full of lessons on how to carefully gather the dangling ends and somehow find a way to weave the broken parts together and go on- now without the familiar support and companionship of her other half.  To find her balance and a purpose for each day.  To find out who she is in this new reality.

Who will she now be?  How to figure out just who you are when half of you is missing?  Clearly you are not the girl you were before you married.  You have changed and adapted to blend into the harmony you loved.  Gradually you notice a quiet chipping taking place.  A gentle reshaping.  A stiffening of backbone over here,  A quiet confidence seeping in.  New interests surface.  A new resolve for decisions that did not quite fit into the scheme of things before begins to emerge.  Each small accomplishment of something new builds on another as slowly you discover who you are - and are becoming.

All this brings to mind that once before, long ago, I was aware of a new beginning.  The summer before seventh grade, our family moved across the country.  On the one hand it was awful to leave everyone and everything I knew behind.  On the other hand, there was no choice, so when my older sister  decided to use the move as an opportunity for a new start in life, I was the perfect copy cat.  This was our chance to shed all bad habits and turn over an fresh page.  To put our best foot forward.    

We would start by changing our names.  Genevieve Arlene would now be Arlene.  She was in high school, older and wiser and able to accomplish her goal.  She is Arlene to this day.  Josephine Mae, younger and less sure of herself, didn’t do so well.  At home I’d always been JoMae.  At our new library in Northern Minnesota I signed up as Mae.  At school, my parents registered me as Josephine.  Elsewhere I was Jo and often simply, JoMae.  Mostly I was horribly mixed up.  Unable to remember who I was where.  Terribly embarrassed at the library one day, when they couldn’t find me under the ‘J’s, I gave the whole thing up.  Walking home in tears, I vowed to never let that happen again and have  happily been JoMae ever since.  

 Now, once again, I must discover who I am. Blessed by the support of friends and family and surrounded by our home full of the many reminders of the love we grew here, I have had the gift of time to process what has happened, to ponder the meaning of it all and to get over the shock.  Most important, I  have been held together by the firm and loving hands of Godde. Through the whole of this experience, I’ve been shielded from falling into the pit of despair I first expected.  And with Godde’s help am discovering who I am; who I will be.  Even, unexpectedly, coming to anticipate the journey.  I am learning many lessons.  Perhaps I will find ways to share some of them.

JoMae 

4/18/17