40 Days of Desert Wandering

Today marks the 40th day of my grief journey...my walk through a difficult desert. May 3 was the day my beloved Chris went to be with the Lord. May 4 is the day he was "declared dead", because his body was found that day. May 4 is the day that his death certificate and his grave marker declare as his death date. But, May 3...will always be the day I know he entered the land of the living...our true home...our forever home. And...May 3 is when I began the most arduous walk I've ever endured...through a dry and dusty desert, and I find myself parched and searching for an oasis most of the time.

Biblically speaking, whenever God uses the number 40...something transformational always takes place. I've actually blogged about this fact before, so I won't repeat it here, but I challenge you to study some of those examples yourself...

Noah - 40 days & nights of rain
The Israelites - 40 years of wandering in the desert
Moses - 40 days on the mountain with God
Jesus - 40 days of fasting in the wilderness
Ninevah - a warning of 40 days until their city was overthrown - repentance followed

For me, I guess I've been more like a desert wandering Israelite these last 40 days. I'm still looking back to see what transformation has taken place in me these last 40 days. I've had days of questioning, days of complaining, days of deep worship, days of obedience, and many days of wondering when I'll get to my Promised Land! I've had such sweet fellowship with my Lord during these 40 days, because I've been clinging to Him like He's all I have...and, honestly He is. Nothing else is sure in this world but Him! But, I've also had many, many days of deep, deep sorrow...like today. So, here I am...day 40...and, I ask, "God what transformation has taken place in me this time?" I don't feel like I've come very far. Oh, how I ache to feel my husband once again. Oh, I crave his touch. I long for his hand in mind. And...my throat has lumps in it all over again. The tears continue to pour. And, I continue to look for something...anything...that resembles transformation.

I continue walking...wandering...and, I begin a new 40 days. Interestingly, I see an oasis in my future, as I'll be at She Speaks 40 days from today. Maybe I'll finally get a refreshing drink of water then, as I'm surrounded by hundreds of sisters. Maybe then I'll see a glimpse of something transformational. But, if not...I'll continue walking...wandering...and waiting with 40 day anticipation!

Kissed By Heaven

After a very difficult 24-36 hours, today has been...well...pretty amazing and saturated with the goodness of God.

I've been praying since Chris went to be with Jesus last month that God would allow me to dream a sweet dream about him at night (and then be able to remember the dream the next morning). Last night was the night! I was elated this morning as I woke up remembering that I actually got to see Chris in heaven in my dream, and he was so happy and at peace. Thank you God for answering my prayer! Now praying for dream #2!

Later this afternoon, after returning to the office from lunch, I was so suprised to find the most beautiful cut flowers sitting in a vase on my desk. One of my co-workers quickly shared that they were from a volunteer that had been praying for me ever since she learned of Chris' death. We had never met...until today. This sweet sister said that God clearly told her to bring me those flowers today, and she said she's learned through the years that when God says to do something...she best do it! I just love her obedience! Now...here's the amazing part of this...

Today would have been my 34 month wedding anniversary. We ALWAYS celebrated our anniversary every month on the 9th. And...Chris always brought me flowers! ALWAYS!

I started crying when I realized how sweet my precious Lord has been to me today. He has saturated me with His love. I don't deserve such love and attention, but He gave it to me! I knew I had to share this story with my new flower-giving friend. But, I also knew I would cry a flood of tears as I did. Up the stairs I went, and pulled Sheila (my flower-giving friend) aside and simply uttered these words...

"There's something I need to tell you about those flowers. Uh...today would have been my 34-month wedding anniversary. We celebrated on the 9th of each month (because we were married on August 9), and my husband ALWAYS brought me flowers. God used you to bring me a kiss from heaven today with these flowers."

Her hands flew to her eyes, and then she looked up towards heaven and whispered a word of thanks. Then she grabbed me and we embraced as we both balled our eyes out.

God is in ALL the details, my friends. ALL the details. And...today...I've been sweetly kissed by heaven!

The Firsts

Anytime a loved one dies, there always seems to be a multitude of "lasts" that are grieved. In the case of my husband, I've rehearsed the "lasts" more times than I can count...the last time I heard his voice, the last time I felt his lips on mine, the last time we sat beside each other in church, the last time I woke up beside him, the last time we went to the beach together, and the list seems endless.

Over the last month, I've also learned that the firsts are almost just as difficult - actually harder than the lasts. And...tonight...my mind has gone there so often, as tomorrow will be the first month anniversary of the day I buried Chris. For some reason, this first was harder than the first month anniversary of his death a few days ago. This first has been so much more difficult than...

the first time I realized he wasn't coming back home...

the first time I slept in our bed without him...

the first time I went to the cemetery by myself...

the first time I went back to our favorite restaurant...

the first time I went to a church service without him...

the first time I went back to our Sunday School class...

the first time I had to share with someone that hadn't heard the news of his death...

the first time I received a hug from someone after he died...

the first time I walked into our closet and got a glimpse of his never-to-be-worn again clothes.

That's just a few of the firsts, but for some reason...knowing that tomorrow brings the first month anniversary since he was buried, I'm suffocating with grief again. I've had such a blessed day today with many laughs, many hugs, many smiles, and now this? This avalanche of sorrow all over again? I'm simply worn out from this pain...again.

Nothing Else Matters

First of all, thank you so much for all of your prayers, kind words, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets, and blog comments - especially after my last post, The S Word. Yes, it was probably one of the most transparent blogs I've ever written. I had no idea what to expect when I wrote of the way my husband went to be with the Lord, but I knew I had to write those words regardless of the outcome. It was healing...for me. And, I pray that it was healing...for some of you as well. I know that several asked me via Facebook or Twitter for my email address to be able to communicate a little more at length, and I'm happy for any of you to email me anytime the Lord directs you to: leahgillen89@yahoo.com. Just remember...I'm still grieving and still healing and still very much hurting. Thank you for all of the precious comments about how much my grief has been ministering to you. Please know I feel your love during these difficult days more than you can imagine.

This past weekend, some very close friends of mine came to town to help with several projects, including fixing my car and helping me clean out the garage in advance of our community yard sale this weekend. Can I tell you that cleaning out the garage was significant? I mean significant!

The garage was always Chris' "chore area" in our home, because most of the things were his gadgets, tools, play toys, and things that I had no idea what to do with. Ever since we moved into this home last Thanksgiving weekend, he's been working on it a little bit at a time. But, honestly, everything that was left seemed like a pile of mysterious "man gadgets". I knew I would have to tackle this eventually and had already asked a couple of Chris' friends if they would be willing to help me with it, because I wouldn't have a clue what to do with some of the stuff. They were more than willing to help, but then I got word that our community was having the big annual yard sale this upcoming Saturday. Even if I wasn't at a place of selling any of Chris' items...I knew the garage had to be cleaned out to make room for all of the other items I had been planning to sell. Either way - it had to be dealt with.

Before Chris died, we agreed that we were going to start getting rid of our "stuff". We have rooms full of "stuff" and we can't take any of it with us anyway. Honestly...I am so sick of excess...and, we have so much of it in this country. I think I was spoiled by going to Africa last summer (I set foot on African soil one year ago today actually).

But, my spoiling was not for more things...my spoiling was for more of Christ with LESS things. You see, I was privileged to witness some of the most authentic worship of our sweet Savior my eyes had ever seen...and to think it was done in one of the most poverty stricken countries in this world. But, it was authentic. They didn't need material things to get closer to God. They didn't need "stuff" for their prayers to be heard. They simply offered all they had, and all they had was enough. Nothing else matters to God. He just wants us...authentic us...all of us.

I digressed a bit, but that leads me back to this upcoming yard sale. In preparing for it, I'm thinking about Africa...I'm thinking about heaven...I'm thinking about my purpose on this earth...and, I'm thinking that NONE of it needs me to have loads of "stuff". It just doesn't. God wants me. All of me. Broken me. Grieving me. Nothing else matters.

So, even as I cleaned out the "stuff" with my friends yesterday, I still found myself getting angry...angry that Chris left me to have to do this, left me with a mess to go through, left me to have "man" the yard sale and answer questions about all the "man toys" that I won't have a clue about. No, I'm not going to sell most of his stuff at this point, but there will be some things in our "piles" that I know will be worth something to somebody. And...as the day went on, the garage got more and more organized, and God diffused my angry spirit, and kept whispering to my heart...

Nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters.

Yes, Lord. I know...I really do know that. I want all of you, so I must give you all of me. Take whatever you want Lord. Continue this refinement, even as I ache. Everything I have...everything I am...everything I desire...it all belongs to you. I live and breathe to serve you. And, if you need to...take it all. Nothing else matters.

The S Word

Our love story was very unique.

Chris and I fell in love very quickly...after only about 2 months actually (he would tell you a few weeks for him...sweet man). We married 11 months after we started dating, and this August would have marked our 3rd wedding anniversary.

You can ask anybody that knows me well (and even some that don't know me that well), God had not only blessed our marriage, but He blessed the type of love we had for each other. We were crazy about each other, and our love never weakened after getting married...it actually grew stronger. We couldn't stand to be apart for very long, and we acted like a bunch of lovesick teenagers most of the time. We never had a single argument, and I can count on one hand the number of times we had what I would classify as a "disagreement". It almost always seemed to be about time. Chris couldn't tell time very well. Ha! Ha!

I know he loved me. He told me...all the time. He sent me a love email every morning and love texts throughout the day. He told everybody how much he loved me, and I know I was blessed beyond belief to have somebody love me like that. And...even more...to be given a second chance at such an amazing love after such a heartbreaking divorce many years ago. God truly redeemed the years the locusts had eaten in my marriage to Chris.

So, how could a man that loves me that much end his own life? Yes...he committed the S word. Suicide.

Many have asked how my husband died, and many of you already know. But, I honestly had to write this post not to answer the question, but simply...for me. Every word I write is part of the healing process it seems.

But, the answer to the question of "why" will never be fully understood this side of heaven. There was no note. There was no obvious reason. But, in talking with professionals, and in putting together some pieces of the puzzle with a little hindsight (only about 3-4 days worth of hindsight actually)...it appears to have been mental illness. It appears that Chris may have been mentally sick, and it may have even been his first "episode". It's possible he had no idea what was happening to him. But these things I do know...

Chris was a believer!

Chris was cleansed of all sin through the blood of Jesus!

Chris loved God!

Chris loved God's word!

Chris is now completely healed in heaven!

While I can type these words, and while I know them to be true...it has been a difficult road to walk. Within minutes of my receiving this tragic and life-altering news, Satan was already working on me. With thoughts like...

Leah, how could you have let him do this?

Leah, you could have stopped this.

Leah, you are not worthy of love like this.

Leah, you always fail at marriage.

Leah, you're alone again.

Leah, you are nothing.

Leah, God can never use you now. This is shaming to Him.

My mind was going crazy with these stupid thoughts. And, I actually remember uttering some of them out loud, because I also remember my friend, Lorie, looking me in the eye (while I was still in a state of shock) and boldly reminding me these were all lies of the enemy.

In the 4 weeks that have followed Chris' death, God has also been reminding me of a few things. Interestingly, these were the same words that I shared with a precious group of women in Kentucky just a few months ago...

Daughter, remember I am the only One that determines your worth. Your circumstances do not determine your worth. Your family does not determine your worth. Your friends do not determine your worth. I made you...you are Mine...and I love you! And...My love is complete!

My earthly love affair with Chris may have ended abruptly because of the S word, but my love affair with Christ is only heating up more and more intensely. And...He calls me worthy.

The Joys of Dirty Laundry

In the weeks following my husband's death earlier this month, I've been blessed by having my house cleaned twice by other people. What a precious gift it was not to have to focus on something as mundane, yet as important, as house cleaning. It seems that even something that simple can take a toll on a grieving widow. However, the time came this past weekend when I had to do it myself. Another first since entering this new phase of life. There never seems to be a shortage of firsts.

I had no motivation to clean but knew I would feel so much better after it was done. I had my list of chores, and my daughter had hers, and we both got to work. I think it took me practically all day on Saturday to get everything done, because I kept getting distracted. I would go to put something away in a drawer and see something that reminded me of Chris, and then I would just park there for a little while.

While hanging up some of my clean laundry, I side-stepped to Chris' side of the closet for a few moments and literally stuck my head into the area where his clothes were hanging. You see...within hours of learning of his death, I quickly ran to our closet to seek out a whiff of him and found comfort in his clothing. I could smell him when smelling his clothes. I'm sure I'm beginning to sound a bit crazy at the moment, but trust me...having his scent around me brought extreme comfort. So, on Saturday...I did my usual routine of "sniffing out" his clothing only to discover his scent was barely there. Actually, I'm not sure it was there anymore at all, but I think my mind wanted to pretend that it was. I actually panicked a little, and the tears began to well up in my eyes. It was almost as if it was my last link to a small piece of his physical presence - even though I know he's gone. But, as long as the scent was there...I still I had a small piece of him with me.

Deeply saddened, I took a 30-minute break to go sit outside and read some. I had no desire to clean at the moment. I felt betrayed...again. This time...by a loss of a scent. It reminded me of when Isaac was comforted by the scent of his beloved Esau (actually Jacob in disguise)...

So he went to him and kissed him. When Isaac caught the smell of his clothes, he blessed him and said, “Ah, the smell of my son is like the smell of a field that the LORD has blessed." Genesis 27:27

That's similar to how I felt whenever I could still smell my husband among his clothing. It was a pleasing and most blessed aroma. But, now...it...was...gone.

After my break outside, I came back to our closet and just started shuffling things around a bit. I'm not sure I was really accomplishing anything. As I was straightening up some items on the floor, I noticed a small pile of clothing on the floor on Chris' side of the closet. Oh my goodness. I remember now! Right after he died, I saw his dirty clothes on the floor and asked everyone not to touch any of it. I wasn't ready to move any of his things. I had literally forgotten all about that little pile until I saw it again on Saturday. I scooped it up into my arms, and YES...his scent was there...boldly there! You would have thought I had just opened the most glamorous gift I'd ever received. And...in a way...I had. Who would have thought that finding dirty laundry would have brought me such joy?

Prison

I've been in prison. No...not the literal type with the metal bars and barbed wire fencing. But, I've been in prison nonetheless. Not only have I been in prison, but I've been in shackles too. Barely able to move...

My prison has been my home filled with pictures, smells, reminders of my sweet Chris who left me 23 days ago.

My prison has been my closet filled with reminders of the clothes he used to put on each morning.

My prison has been the memories in my mind that continually interrupt my daily thoughts and take over any available cavity and crevice in my brain to render me useless in accomplishing anything else.

My shackles are my dreams of what could have been but now never will be.

My shackles are the unending task lists that are created following the burial of a loved one.

My shackles are my emotions that tend to control me rather than the other way around.

My prison...is my grief.

I feel like I've been sentenced to a prison called Grief. It's a lonely, painful, sad place to be. I don't know my release date just yet, but it seems like it's an eternity away.

During my time with Abba this morning, I almost heard His audible whisper...don't forget Paul and Silas. What Lord? Don't forget Paul and Silas.

Yes Lord. I know all about Paul and Silas's time in prison in Acts 16. It just happens to be one of my very favorite stories in all of scripture. And...I read the story again.

"After they had been severely flogged, they were thrown into prison, and the jailer was commanded to guard them carefully. Upon receiving such orders, he put them in the inner cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken. At once all the prison doors flew open, and everybody's chains came loose." ~Acts 16:23-26 NIV

They praised their way out of prison. The greek word for hymn in this passage implies they celebrated God in song.

After being led back to this passage, I fell on my knees...raised my hands in praise to God and asked Him to meet me where I was (as ugly as I might be right now). And, then I began...

to pray to Him

to thank Him

to speak His Word back to Him

to celebrate Him in song

to PRAISE Him!!

And...the shackles started to come undone, and the prison door slightly opened, and He picked me up and carried me out the door.