…… that I am at a loss.
I’m at a loss for words.
I’m at a loss for feelings.
I’m at a loss for some kind of permanence in my life.
Something to anchor myself to.
Other than God.
Yes, God is my anchor …… most of the time.
See? I’m going to open myself up here.
Hopefully you won’t take advantage of the openness and preach at me.
Because I’m being honest.
And maybe this is just me.
In fact, it’s probably just me.
But as I told one of my daughters last week, after learning that my father had died …… and that it will cost over $150,000 to put my house back
together …… sometimes I just can’t pray anymore.
It doesn’t help that I’m watching a telethon right now to help the victims of Harvey and Irma.
I’m ugly crying as a result.
A result of the telethon and of my feelings, which I guess I’m finally feeling.
I know without a doubt that I am beyond blessed.
I didn’t lose everything.
I lost the house that I had.
But I didn’t lose anything in it.
It can be fixed.
For a price.
No one I love died.
My family is safe and well.
I didn’t lose much, really.
But many of my friends are now homeless.
And my heart hurts for them.
It also hurts for all of those who lost so much in the past few days.
It feels like our world is spiraling out of control.
That many of us are losing our sense of permanence.
My heart hurts for the relationship I never really had.
My heart hurts for my sister, who has spent her life seeking love and support from a man who couldn’t give it.
My heart hurts for that man …… who spent his life missing so very much.
My heart hurts because sometimes …… life just sucks.
Not always, thankfully.
And sometimes …… so often and so long that it’s difficult to see a way out.
Or a way through.
I am so thankful for all of you who comment and who tell me that you feel (or have felt) the same way.
You help me feel so less alone in the suckyness (yes, I know that’s not a word).
I appreciate all of you and thank you for your words.
I want you to know that I don’t feel this type of loss all of the time.
Or even most of the time.
And sometimes is sometimes too much.
I miss him.
We pray for those who can’t find the words to pray for themselves, Janine. And, at one time or another that is each one of us. We are watching too and it is good to see so many people who have so much willing to pitch in and get involved. These disasters didn’t show any mercy, didnt matter, everyone is affected somehow. We will keep praying for you and for everyone to find some peace and some light in all of this.
Thank you, Susan. I know that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us when we don’t have words. But it’s more comforting for me to know that other human beings are interceding for me. So thank you for your prayers. And for you love and support.
I feel every word of this
Thank you, Becky …… for telling me so.
It must seem so BEYOND tolerance. But, it is not. We’ve never met. We both know the Lindholtz family and CTK. I’m sending you a HUGE hug. With so much feeling and love, from one widow of a fabulous man, to another. – Catherine
Thank you, Catherine. It seems strange that we’ve never met because I feel like we know each other very well. ❤
(((Janine))) It’s not easy and these disasters have cause so much damage everywhere. One day at a time is all we can do. Glad you were safe and you and I know material things can be replaced but lives can’t. Yes life does suck.
Thank you, Janet. It helps to know that you’re here. ❤
I can’t imagine how much you miss him. I hate that your life kind of sucks right now. I’m glad you still know God is there even if you really don’t feel like talking right now. There has to be something in this, what we are going through in this moment of our lives. It’s just not always for us to understand. I know that doesn’t help very much but keep trusting in Him! Glad you came my way once upon a time.
Thank you, Joni. I agree that it’s not always for us to understand. I will never, ever understand Jim’s death. But I’m thankful for the friends I’ve made because of it. Who knows? You and I may connect again. Thank you for continuing to be there. ❤
I love you so much. If Dad did one thing good in his life…he made us. I found a letter in the house that I had written to him in 1995, I was literally begging him for his love and approval. He kept that letter, so clearly it was important to him…but he never gave me what I needed most. Not once.
You know what though? I’m going to be just fine. I KNOW who I am even if he never really knew me.:)
He managed to make two amazing daughters,,,and we can credit our mothers for our hearts!
Here you are, worrying and praying for those less fortunate than you even in the midst of so much pain.
Here I am, taking the $500 dollars that he had in his wallet and handing it to a friend who is running a rescue mission for Texas shelter dogs!
In spite of what we have been handed, WE give to others…and that makes us special.
I don’t know what to tell you about feeling “grounded”. I hope and pray for you that it will come…that you will find a way to feel that way again.
But don’t worry about me. I hurt right now, but I’ll be stronger for it.
I love you!
I love you.
And am proud to be your sister. ❤
I can imagine some of this, but I can’t even fathom most of it. I just wanted to say, I’m here, I read and I am thinking of you. Jennifer B.
Thank you, Jennifer. It’s always so good to hear from you and to know that you are here. I love you.
These floods were terrible. I’m mad that our family is displaced for the next year. I’m also sad because of the amount of money and time this will take away from my family. Most contractors are telling us 9-12 months for completion. Realizing that I am grateful and blessed but it still sucks. Please let us know if there are things we can do.
Miss you my friend.
Thank you, Amy. I’m so sad that you’ve also been affected by this damn hurricane. And I’m humbled because you’re here, yet you lost so much more than I did. I wish that I could do something to make your family whole again. I’m thankful that you’re all safe. But I’m sad for the road ahead of you. Yes, it could be worse. But sometimes, even those words ring hollow.
I love you.
I’ve found the last 5-7 years that my reactions to bad things tend to be very delayed. But I suppose that’s always been me, even when first widowed. And when it’s gets ugly, it gets ugly.
And seriously: the Universe needs to give you a break already. It’s past due.
Love you, my friend. ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, Candice. I agree with you. For whatever good that does. But yes, sometimes our reactions are delayed. Thank you for reminding me of that. I love you.
I have always admired you for your ability to still have your beliefs and a relationship with God after your husband died. I have also admired you for saying the truth about this experience. Your words helped get me through the darkness after my husband was killed and I was left to raise my three kids myself. I knew from you it wouldn’t always be so very very dark. I also knew from your words that it would always hang around to some extent, coming and going, ebbing and flowing… That was also oddly comforting since I wasn’t waiting for the pain to go completely away. I was angry(the nicest word I have) at God for a really long time. I have made some peace with that but I honestly don’t pray the way I used to.
I am sorry for the loss of your father. My father and I had a difficult relationship. I was in my thirties, and he too missed out on his life in my opinion(alcoholism). It was hard to get stuck with what felt like the left over feelings of my relationship with him and the things that could now never be said or fixed.
I know it’s just a house, and I feel terrible for the people that lost everything and especially for those that lost loved ones. The world feels really very scary right now to me. But I have to say, 150K is a lot of money. That sucks.
Jill …… Your words mean so much to me. Thank you for taking the time to not only comment, but to connect with me and what I’ve written. I’m so sorry that you’re on this sucky road, too. And that our fathers had alcoholism in common. That adds a whole ‘nother level to grief. I’m thankful that you have felt a connection with me and my words. That’s what keeps me going. I, too, don’t
pray the way I used to. I feel like I’m way less naive, unfortunately. But it is what it is.
Thank you for being here …… and for letting me know that you’re here. ❤
My father and I have a difficult relationship as well. It’s the alcohol, the absenteeism and a couple decades of abuse at the hands of his mother for me. I read your words and I ponder if I’ll actually grieve. I doubt it. I mostly think it will be a relief (hey we all get to be honest here, right?) But, I know how difficult my mother’s death was, and that I’ll never be over that. So, with both extremes in my head I send you hugs and want you to know I’m thinking of you and wish there were more I could do than just say that- but, it’s true, I am. Thank you for always being honest with us and letting us in your life. Hang in there. And when in doubt I say hug those darling puppies. ❤
I love your honesty of “sometimes I just can’t pray anymore”…..we have all felt that at one time or another. The best part of that is that (1) there are many people who will continue to pray for you when you cannot/unable/don’t want…… and (2) – the very best – God understands completely! He knows you better than you. He’ll be waiting patiently and unconditionally to listen when you are ready to speak to him again.
I’m so thankful that you and your family and your ‘stuff’ are all safe. As one commenter said, when in doubt hug those puppies! best medicine of all.
Thank you for always being real and sharing with all of us. Keeping you in prayer (and everyone affected by these horrible storms that just won’t go away!). Hugging you hard from California!