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But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain.
1 Cor 15:10 (ESV)

During those first weeks after losing Tom, I walked about in a fog we call widow-brain.

My mind put everything in a blur perhaps to protect me from a harsh truth–I was no longer a wife. I seemed listlessly unaware of appointments and conversations happening around me. My thoughts instead circled around Tom and my worry for these four boys he left in my care.

I don’t recall shuffling them into a pet shop, but somehow I found us huddled around an open pen with a sign that read hold our baby bunnies!

When my ten-year-old reached in and cradled a bunny, a genuine grin spread across his face, the first I’d seen since his dad wrestled with him the morning of that fateful day. Eyes grew round with pleading, “Mom, can we stay and hold every bunny?”

And keep that smile going? Sure!

Time flew as we held bunny after bunny, and my happy child reemerged. I blissfully imagined doves flying above and a whisper, the boy will be fine, hardly noticing the chirping of my phone, but breaking away to answer it.

“Kit?”

I recognized the voice—Lysa Terkeurst: not just a lovely woman from my church, but the president of Proverbs 31 Ministries. I quietly wondered why she was calling. We were acquainted, but not particularly close. Something nagged at the back of my bunny-land mind.

“Holly and I are at your front door. Are you home?”

Reality scattered the bunnies out of my widow-brain—Lysa had scheduled to bring me a meal that afternoon!

I glanced at my boys, lost in bunny mania, and calculated a thirty-minute drive back to my house.

Of all people to make this mistake with! Lysa travels practically every week, speaks before thousands, and publishes many books and articles, all while raising a large family of children. And still, she took time to make me a meal! I had looked so forward to getting to know Lysa and really coveted this time with her.

“Kit?” She asked again.

“Oh, Lysa.” I paused at what to say, and felt the Lord hug me. Lysa, of anyone, would understand. I’d seen her speak about mixing up which day she’s leaving to go to Disney and barely making the flight. I’ve heard her announce to the world the same deep anxieties and worries all women have. “I have to be honest,” I said. “My brain left me when Tom died. I forgot. I’m all the way at a pet shop, and I can’t get there for another half hour.”

Her graciousness helped, but it was up to me to fight the urge to beat myself up. Tears welled up. It’s bad enough to be lonely, but now my widow-brain had made me miss out on an evening with a special woman.

“Mom,” Brian’s squeal of delight interrupted my reprimands. He hugged a little white bunny close to his face. “These bunnies make me sooooo happy!”

That’s when I understood. God used my widow-brain to minister to my ten-year-old by putting bunnies first, when my responsible brain would have pulled him away from much-needed cuddles of comfort.

I was reminded of Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “I am what I am.” God used Paul, as badly as Paul had persecuted Christians, to further the Gospel. Surely, I thought, God can use me too.

And He did–first by erasing my shame over having widow-brain through Lysa’s compassion. She kindly invited our family to her home to share in her family’s Easter egg hunt, and never mentioned the missed meal. It’s not necessary. That’s what grace is about.

That was only the beginning of how God used my connection with Lysa. It was through our light-hearted friendship that I began writing for a small widow’s blog inspired under Lysa’s ministry. A beautifully heart-felt ministry I later expanded to become A Widow’s Might.

Isn’t it funny how even the lowliest moment of widow-brain can lead to God’s work in His Kingdom?

Dear Father, grant newer widows the ability to have grace with themselves, especially during the early months after losing their husbands. Encourage them with loved ones who understand when she misses appointments or forgets conversations. Amen.