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“Though the mountains be shaken
and the hills be removed,
yet My unfailing love for you will not be shaken
nor My covenant of peace be removed,
says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”
Isaiah 54:10 (NIV)

In grief, our mountains are shaken, and every hill is removed.

With the loss of our husbands — whether we had a warning or none at all– our world has been shaken. There are no signs of our previous life, and we have been thrust into an unwanted and unrecognizable place.

Questions come through the sadness and the pain of our loss.

We find no sure or certain answers but are forced to settle into a place and life we never wanted.

Life without our husbands can seem like trudging through the muck, mire, and tar of life, held by shoes tied tightly with shoelaces.

The effort to move, to make decisions we never had to before, learn new things, be the boss of things, and even the boss of ourselves becomes our new focus.

Have you ever felt like this is all just too hard?

This has been a hard season — a hard summer.

July 17th was the six-year anniversary of Steve’s homegoing. On August 18th, we would have celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary — but there was no celebration.

In between those two very emotional days, I had surgery to remove a tumor in my kidney along with the removal of a worn-out gallbladder.

Tests were run and surgeons’ schedules were coordinated — with all results leaning towards a malignant mass.

Instead of fear for the outcome, I began to untie those shoelaces.

After years of working so hard to accept this new and unwanted reality, having made progress and feeling like I truly had found a new purpose, I was instantly ready to come out of those shoes and head Home to a reunion with my husband.

I prayed about my health and God’s will but excitedly thought about the possibility of being reunited with Steve again.

Was the Lord taking me Home? I began to untie the laces holding me here.

The surgery was successful. The cancerous tumor was removed, and they were able to save my kidney.

My surgeon’s advice, “Now, go home, be well and live.”

It was a report that so many desperately pray for.

I had prayed about this health issue and trusted God in it all. Now I was having to reach down deep, just like after Steve went Home, to trust Him again.

Panic as I left the hospital. Going home, but not to where I would find Steve.

Unexplained sadness waved over me.

Then I was reminded of my favorite passage — Psalm 91.

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
Psalm 91:1-2 (NIV)

Suddenly, I had to re-tie those shoelaces.

And then, I asked the Lord, “Why?”

Through a devotion shared on A Widows Might from the heart of another sweet widow, God gave me an answer.

“God has mapped out our lives and numbered our days. Because we don’t know how long we have we must make each day count and live with purpose — God’s purpose.”
(Thank you, Michelle Allen)

As I waded through recovery and the foggy brain of anesthesia, I wondered if I would ever find my ‘words’ to write again, God led me to this verse.

Kathy…

“You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in My name the Father will give you.”
John 15:16 (NIV)

Love, God.

We must remember that GOD WASTES NOTHING.

I am so very thankful for the Cross, Salvation, and the Hope of Eternity. One day, our grief will collide with our eternal reality.

What we can only imagine today will be our eternity shared with our husbands again — designed with God’s great love for us.

WE WILL BE HOME.

Until then, you and I will walk this journey together and remember we have been chosen to bear fruit — a fruit that will last.

Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for Your unfailing love for us. Please equip us with all we need to share our stories and bear fruit that will last. Let no moment of this season be wasted. Amen