In "My Story - Part 1" I shared some of my personal experiences, especially the most painful moment when I learned that my wife had died. Here in Part 2 I want to tell you why I feel the urge to help others who are on similar paths of grief.
When Cyndi passed away, I felt intensely lonely. I desperately sought other people who had been down this path of grief and loss before me, so they could help me know there was hope to come sometime in the future. Even in our rather large church family, there were people who had lost their spouses after many years of marriage, there were women whose husbands had died suddenly, and there were people who became single parents through unwelcome circumstances (usually divorce). Several of these people offered many kind words of help and hope, for which I am forever grateful.
But I still could not find one person who met all of these qualifications (male, sudden loss of spouse, and single dad of young children). I longed to connect with someone who understood the unique levels of grief and fear that came from losing a younger spouse, particularly grieving the death of the future and fearing the future for my own young children.
Dear reader, if you are in the throes of grief and pain, I want you to know I have traveled down this path before you, and I can assure you THERE IS HOPE. Through this blog I want to offer you words of comfort. Along the way I want to offer some practical ideas for dealing with daily life in the "new normal."
Although you and I will probably never meet in person, I want you to know that I am praying for you and for every person who visits this site. I want you to know that if you reach out to the Lord during this time, He will meet your every need.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
My Story - Part 1
Personal stories are very important. As you look at the material in this blog, you are likely curious about my own story and why I am interested in helping other widows and widowers. In Part 1 I will share my own story of loss, and in Part 2 I will share my motivation to help others who are walking similar paths of grief.
It was Saturday, October 25, 2003. For weeks I had made preparations for our church to host a satellite-simulcast marriage conference. For two days I had sat next to my wife, Cyndi, as we listened to speakers like Gary Smalley and others talk about marriage. As the conference came to a close, Cyndi and I held each other's hands and gazed into each other's eyes as we renewed our marriage vows along with more than 100 other couples in the room, plus thousands more participating in the same simulcast across the nation.
"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love you, to honor you, to cherish you and to protect you, forsaking all others as long as we both shall live."
After the conference concluded, Cyndi left the church to go home, check on our young children, and drive the babysitter back to her own house.
I continued the work of putting things away and resetting the sanctuary for Sunday morning's services. It was the weekend to change our clocks, and somewhere in the midst of my massive to-do list and the confusion between having some clocks already changed and others not yet changed, I lost track of time.
As I completed my work, I went to the church office to make some copies. Two men entered the church through the nearby doorway. One was my senior pastor and dear friend, Jeff Hinds. I did not recognize the other man. With grave looks on their faces, they asked me to join them in Jeff's office. Bewildered, I followed them, my head already beginning to fill with questions about what might be going on.
The stranger gave me his name and identified himself as the chief of police in a neighboring town. Then he said in a straightforward manner, yet with a quivering voice, "There's been a terrible automobile accident. I'm sorry to say your wife didn't make it."
The room swirled. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Jeff had wisely slid a chair behind me so I would have somewhere to land when I collapsed under the weight of the news. I honestly don't remember the next few minutes very clearly.
Somewhere in the blur, I heard the officer say that my children were in the car, but were alive and okay, and waiting for me at the hospital down the street. Somehow, Jeff had already made some hurried phone calls to various friends, so one friend was already at the hospital with the children until I could be there with them. At the hospital other close friends, stunned and filled with grief, joined us over the next couple of hours.
From the hospital waiting room, as my children were being entertained with videos and snacks from the cafeteria, I made the most difficult calls to my parents and Cyndi's parents. They called the rest of the family members, and all of them started on the road within a few hours' time, driving long distances to be with me during those first dark days of grief.
Thus began a painful and unwelcome chapter in my life. Nobody in their right mind would invite this kind of pain, but sometimes pain like this invades our lives without our permission.
As a young husband, I had seldom considered the possibility that my wife might die at an early age. I was focused on the logistics of daily life and our dreams for the future. When Cyndi passed away, my world shattered. Perhaps you can relate.
This is continued in "My Story - Part 2."
http://helpforwidowsandwidowers.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-story-part-2.html
It was Saturday, October 25, 2003. For weeks I had made preparations for our church to host a satellite-simulcast marriage conference. For two days I had sat next to my wife, Cyndi, as we listened to speakers like Gary Smalley and others talk about marriage. As the conference came to a close, Cyndi and I held each other's hands and gazed into each other's eyes as we renewed our marriage vows along with more than 100 other couples in the room, plus thousands more participating in the same simulcast across the nation.
"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love you, to honor you, to cherish you and to protect you, forsaking all others as long as we both shall live."
After the conference concluded, Cyndi left the church to go home, check on our young children, and drive the babysitter back to her own house.
I continued the work of putting things away and resetting the sanctuary for Sunday morning's services. It was the weekend to change our clocks, and somewhere in the midst of my massive to-do list and the confusion between having some clocks already changed and others not yet changed, I lost track of time.
As I completed my work, I went to the church office to make some copies. Two men entered the church through the nearby doorway. One was my senior pastor and dear friend, Jeff Hinds. I did not recognize the other man. With grave looks on their faces, they asked me to join them in Jeff's office. Bewildered, I followed them, my head already beginning to fill with questions about what might be going on.
The stranger gave me his name and identified himself as the chief of police in a neighboring town. Then he said in a straightforward manner, yet with a quivering voice, "There's been a terrible automobile accident. I'm sorry to say your wife didn't make it."
The room swirled. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Jeff had wisely slid a chair behind me so I would have somewhere to land when I collapsed under the weight of the news. I honestly don't remember the next few minutes very clearly.
Somewhere in the blur, I heard the officer say that my children were in the car, but were alive and okay, and waiting for me at the hospital down the street. Somehow, Jeff had already made some hurried phone calls to various friends, so one friend was already at the hospital with the children until I could be there with them. At the hospital other close friends, stunned and filled with grief, joined us over the next couple of hours.
From the hospital waiting room, as my children were being entertained with videos and snacks from the cafeteria, I made the most difficult calls to my parents and Cyndi's parents. They called the rest of the family members, and all of them started on the road within a few hours' time, driving long distances to be with me during those first dark days of grief.
Thus began a painful and unwelcome chapter in my life. Nobody in their right mind would invite this kind of pain, but sometimes pain like this invades our lives without our permission.
As a young husband, I had seldom considered the possibility that my wife might die at an early age. I was focused on the logistics of daily life and our dreams for the future. When Cyndi passed away, my world shattered. Perhaps you can relate.
This is continued in "My Story - Part 2."
http://helpforwidowsandwidowers.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-story-part-2.html
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
God's Heart for Widows and Orphans
I have been doing an intensive study through the Scriptures to learn more about God's heart for widows and orphans. For now, here is one such verse:
Psalm 68:5: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."
If God defines Himself as a father to the fatherless and a defender of widows, and if you are a widow (or widower), then you are in a place of God's special grace. God has a heart for you!
Psalm 68:5: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."
If God defines Himself as a father to the fatherless and a defender of widows, and if you are a widow (or widower), then you are in a place of God's special grace. God has a heart for you!
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