Groundhog Day Revisited

Never thought I would dread to see a fun day like the American Groundhog Day come around. It's a crazy, but harmless, tradition, based on folklore, that tries to predict the length of our remaining winter by whether a groundhog sees his shadow when he emerges from his wintry home.

For me, however, it now holds a three-year memory as the day of my husband Dean's passing. Yes, we lost him three years ago now in 2018, and there is little pleasure for me in the day, except for one thing. Someday this "winter" we're in will end, and I'll see him again in heaven.

A friend sent me a fascinating booklet recently that reinforced my understanding of death from a biblical standpoint. I was reading it just last night, and it was comforting to know that Dean is asleep, resting in the grave, waiting for the Resurrection at the Second Coming of Jesus.

As our tired, old bodies begin to wear out at the end of life, it's nice that God allows us such a delightful, needed sleep before the "party" begins at the Marriage Feast of the Lamb in heaven. Yes, Dean is resting in peace, and so am I, for the greatest family reunion of all time is coming soon. And we'll get there together! Comforting words indeed...

1 Thessalonians 4:17, 18

Here's what Dean may look like in heaven. Many of our friends won't recognize him "in his prime".

The New Snow for the New Year

 They call it a New Year, but for some reason I'm having a hard time feeling the newness this time around. Were it not for the break Sabbath gives me, I honestly could not feel like any day was different than the next. Let alone new and special.

The end of 2020 has felt very anti-climactic and even a bit serene. There's a fresh blanket of snow on the ground from last week though, so my thoughts do turn to newness in regards to the newness of life, promised us in the Bible. God said in Isaiah 1:18, "though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow." And David said in Psalm 51:7, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."

I'm yearning for something new, and it goes way beyond one day out of the year. I'm looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, as promised in Revelation 22:1. A place where there will be no more death, sorrow, or pain (v. 4). This pandemic has driven us all to desiring a place like that. Come, Lord Jesus, come (v. 20).

The old is getting...well, old.

Being Content

 Winter is here in Nebraska, with cold temperatures keeping me inside most of November. But I still have my outside "chores" which provide me with brief, very brief, times out of the house.

I'm feeding a feral cat twice a day just outside my back door. And then checking the little free pantry in my front yard several times a day to make sure it stays stocked with staples and snacks to feed the neighborhood. That and my computer, plus some intermittent visits by my daughter/warden, all keep me suppled with my material and social needs. (Being a minimalist isn't just about our home furnishings and decor.)

All of these blessings were fully noted this Thanksgiving. I even had the company of a friend's dog, Juliet, for a week. So, as you can see, my holiday was not all bad--as a matter of fact, I rather enjoyed the quiet and peacefulness of it.

Philippians 4:11 says, "...I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content". Circumstances are testing many of us in this regard. But it is possible to achieve with God's help. After all, verse 13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Caregiving in my Front Yard

I like to see spiritual connections in my caregiving efforts, so here's one I've been thinking about lately. God must feel like I do sometimes. It would be so nice if I could have guests in my house for dinner again, but I'm having to make do with feeding people from a distance. God can't wait to have us at the dinner table with Him in heaven, but for now He's having to "make do" by remotely answering our prayers and providing for our needs.

Here's my story: Toward the end of last month, it suddenly hit me that the "little free pantry" I've been encouraging others to have, might be a good idea for my own neighborhood. And of course, you guessed it--that location ended up being right in my own front yard.

I thank my daughter, who immediately went to the store to purchase what I envisioned as a workable, temporary pantry. Together with friends and neighbors, we've been making sure the supplies are there for it. School snacks are a hot item (we're just a block away from a school), but there have been lots of other food items gone too, every day when I check the shelves (or in this case, drawers).

Thanks to a local non-profit though, I'll be able to have an attractive, more secure pantry here soon. I'll probably show you pictures of it in my next post.

See the photo gallery at https://www.littlefreepantry.org/ for ideas!

(Will see you next month with something more winter-proof.)

Love Lives On

 This first week of September marks the anniversary of my husband's tractor accident 21 years ago now. It was an event that rocked our world and began those many years of caregiving that I never would have imagined for us when we were younger.

Losing her dad two years ago has not been easy for our only daughter, now in her thirties. But yesterday she discovered that her neighbor had just lost his only daughter, who had been tragically shot by her husband, the neighbor's son-in-law.

Kayla immediately got out of her car and gave the man a healing hug, a gesture that sounds so much like what Dean, my husband, would have done. I've never been much of a hugger, but her dad was. And I was so proud that she didn't worry about wearing a mask. The situation was too grave to bother. She did the right thing, and I'm so proud of her for listening to her heart and delivering the comfort that the situation demanded.

It was the best tribute to her dad she could have made. Thank you, Kayla, for being a comfort to me as well and reminding me that love is the only thing that matters.

Faith in the Future

My purpose for this personal blog of mine has always been to be able to share what it means to be a caregiver, how caregiving shaped me during those years when my husband was alive, and how those memories and lessons continue to impact my faith even now.

As this pandemic lingers, however, and tightens its grip on our sense of normalcy for everyday living, I'm finding it more and more difficult to link the past with what my life is now. Caregiving just seems a lifetime away. I can't grasp onto it as well, can't allow it to inform my decisions and experiences like it did previously.

So, writing here is good because it forces me to retreat once again to a different time, in a different world. This, of course, as healing as it can sometimes be, will never match the benefit from instead, reaching to the future and the glorious things it can hold for us.

In essence, I've been made to realize that the past can inform us, but it's the future that truly inspires us. We must keep our eyes on that "city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God". Hebrews 11:10.

As a matter of fact, I was memorizing Hebrews 11, the "faith chapter", before Dean's death two years ago. I had just about mastered it, when it happened. I have failed to review and revive my memories of that chapter until recently. Now, those verses about faith are a sweet balm for me. Keeping my faith intact, making it all I need to take with me to the Kingdom.

It's the only lesson worth learning on this sick planet. Instead of asking someone, "How are you?", we should be asking, "How's your faith?"

My YouTube channel--a daily Bible study

Appreciation of Life

It's been almost a week now, and I haven't been able to bring myself to write about our anniversary, which was June 6th. Mostly, it's because I've been busy, but perhaps it just hasn't been on my mind as much as it should be, now that he's gone. My caregiver guilt showing up again? I think we all have it to some degree.

This is going into the third year since he's been gone...and life goes on. Thankfully, I've been able to fill my life, even with these abnormal times during a pandemic, with many worthwhile things.

I'm learning new things on my computer, and am connecting with far more people than I had previously. I still miss face-to-face time, especially with close family members, because I'm one of those sheltering-in-place, not-going-out-in-public seniors, for as long as this virus is out there.

My respiratory problems demand my vigilance in this. And even though some may see it as a lack of faith, I see it as an appreciation of life. Perhaps losing Dean has taught me that. My daughter has already lost one parent (never easy), and I want to do all I can to spare her losing another one before necessary.

Dean's memory lingers, however. I fondly remember our wedding. That, and all the other major events in our life together. So, anniversary or not, I'm thinking of him and missing him every day of the year.