Last night Father asked me if I was ready to go forward now. It surprised me because I thought I was going forward all along. However, I’d confided in a friend last year that I’d lost my mojo somewhere along the way. And I’d begun to ask Father if he was still there.

In the last couple of months I’d asked Father to give me a song in the morning. It was something he’d done so often…before. But it hadn’t happened often in the last couple of years. I didn’t know why. I didn’t realize what had changed. It’s kind of ironic I didn’t connect that I wasn’t communicating with Father the same way as I had.

In a moment my life changed. It was instantaneous. In the blink of an eye.

Hunny was gone and that changed everything. All the big and the tiny details of our life were different now. And they would never be the same again. So, I couldn’t rely on old habits. Rather, new ones had to form.

My head spins at how quickly everything changed. How can that be so true? And yet, it is. All the time. Every day.

Lurking stealthily in the back corner of my mind was guilt over Hunny’s passing. I could have done my caregiving differently, more quickly, more intelligently, or more effectively. The fear monster was waiting to pounce. Waiting for the death certificate to show that I had failed.

So, I went to Father pleading for my absolution or avoidance. I didn’t know how to combat this demon.

As a result, a video about complicated guilt popped into my feed and I watched it. It shined a light into my dark place. This wasn’t a new thing but rather an old one from another death that haunted me. It had been Hunny’s mother 20 years ago and I had been her caregiver. As I am now, I’d wondered if I’d done it wrong.

My 2 cents to anyone grieving would be to “Change your Mind”. Change how you SEE losing someone you love by radically flipping your thinking about how you see loss via death. Don’t choose to suffer so hard for so long. It isn’t brave and strong. Rather, consider thinking differently.

Sure I’ve only been grieving about a week but I’ve grieved before and did it wrong. Once I let myself become a basket case which resulted in physical illness which stole time from my life and learning. I could have harvested the lessons from it. Instead, I made it hard work and caused unnecessary trauma to my body.

It seems I’m getting to know my dead spouse better than I did in 30+ years together. Maybe that’s because he isn’t dead. That was only his body. And now that he can see things more clearly, there’s a new aspect to his character: Profound wisdom and understanding. But he’s still using gifts he had. How can it be possible for our love to continue growing even more?

Even more so, when I look at his empty chair and remember him sitting there, I love him and miss him. But in the next second I begin to see that the person who used to sit in that chair is changed. Not only physically, but intellectually, and spiritually. He is still growing. And he’s dropped off some of the things that were holding him back. Maybe they were behaviors engraved into him as a child. Or prejudices he carried from traumas. And even identity patterns that don’t pertain to him anymore.

When my Hunny left me and flew into Eternity, I wasn’t in the room. I had stepped out the side door to move our car. Only a few feet so the ambulance would have easy access. It was only a minute, maybe two before I stepped back inside. Then I looked up to see him falling lifeless from his chair. I ran toward him, but he was already gone.

I had just called the ambulance to tell them he was in severe abdominal pain. All day he thought he was passing a kidney stone. But he wasn’t. He was bleeding internally. So, when his legs stopped working, I called 911.

Recently, I heard J.P. Sears say, “I like nature. Nature doesn’t lie and we seem to be surrounded by lies in our world”. That resonated inside me.

For 8-9 years I didn’t watch news or political broadcasts. Amazingly, life went along just great and I was never at any great disadvantage because of it. Then a couple of years ago, when the world somewhat fell apart, shut down, and freaked out, I began listening. Not because I was afraid, but because everyone else was and I didn’t understand that. It was weird to me that one-minute people were talking trash about pharmaceutical companies, and the next minute they were nearly on their knees to them.

As I watched, our world seemed to cling to one crisis after another. Panic seemed to be nearly predictive in its ebb and flow and the masses embraced it more readily than the latest cheeseburger. Fear and anxiety were the newest fads that nobody admitted having. Instead, it was accepted as normal. And I was not normal. (Ha, go figure, lol).

There have been prophets and seers and mediums since the beginning of time. Millions of them. And there is only one way to know if they are truth bearers or not. That would be by hearing Father’s voice ourselves.

I don’t purposely listen to prophets or their prophecies, neither do I track them. Why? Because the voice of God lives and dwells within me. And each of us. We have the ability to hear what he speaks every moment we need him. He’s there to walk with us, guide us, and encourage us, through every hell that comes our way. And he’ll do it in a way that overcomes all our perils either by walking through the fire or escaping the destruction.

I’ve noticed a propensity for prophecy in nearly every person who is made aware of it. So, I’ve attributed that to Father’s presence within us all.

“I can trust thee, I do trust thee. O keep me abiding in Thyself.” by Andrew Murray in “Abide in Christ” pg 160.

In Kindergarten I discovered that I could resist anyone and anything by withdrawing and keeping myself separate. It was my first true aloneness. And in it, I accidentally found great power.

Through the years, during many more times of aloneness, I also discovered the One. And I knew that I was never truly alone.

Together, we were the One that carried me quietly, even covertly, high over great chasms of crisis where I could have easily been destroyed down below in the turbulence of the chaos.

Are there thieves inside your temple; the temple of you? Jesus cast money changers (thieves) from the temple in Mark 11. Not only that, he forbid carrying merchandise about. Something worth a ponder.

I wonder what the money-changers are inside my temple and what are they stealing from me? What merchandise am I carrying that has no place here?

Jesus went to the temple the day before casting out the money-changers just to look around. It was the next day that he called them thieves.

We assume dishonesty was the issue.  But history notes that money-changing was carefully regulated by the priests.  Interest wasn’t allowed however, a fee was assessed.  Were the rates too high? Is that what prompted Jesus to call them thieves?