I Trust My God...

Photo Credit: Google Images- Return of Christ Banner If you follow me on Facebook, you may have noticed more recent posts referring to missing being romanced by my husband.  I have had to really take this to the Lord.  I have had to lay these feelings at the foot of the Cross.  Of course after the death of one’s spouse, or even a breakup or divorce—you’re most likely going to miss the romantic sparks.  The sweet surprises, love notes, flowers, the whispering's of “I Love you”… whatever it is that defined romantic gestures in your relationship.  I know it’s normal.  I know this is a part of grief I have to walk through.  But I also know my personality.  I know if I dwell on this part of my life being lost along with my husband it can create a dark pool of self-pity.  It can create a selfish monster who says, “I deserve that in my life”.  That selfish monster would not make wise decisions.  I don’t have time to not be wise.  Neither do you.  Can I get an Amen?    Let’s take

Photo By A Smile Is Forever Photography, Marisa Durrett This past weekend I had the humbling honor of standing next to my best friend, Shala, as I witnessed her make vows before God, family, and friends, uniting as one with her, “Redneck Romeo”, Ryan.  It was a beautiful, Christ centered ceremony.  As I stood there watching the Holy Matrimony being created I couldn’t help but be overcome with emotions.  As the tears streaked my face I could vividly see me and Cody standing at the altar almost five years ago.  I could remember my heart racing with excitement and a little fear of the unknown.  I remember thinking—this is it.  My life is “complete” now.  I have the one that will be by my side until I’m old and grey… Or “Until Death Do Us Part”.  When the Officiating Pastor, Willie Williams, spoke the words “until death do you part” during yesterday’s ceremony, it was an arrow piercing through my heart.  My eyes closed as I prayed that this beautiful couple have a lifetime togethe

During one of my many sleepless nights as of late, lying in my king sized bed, with my eyes wide open, I was trying to hold back grieving cries.  Because once I cry, I don’t stop for hours.  In this particular moment I was at a loss for words due to the pain of my husband not being next to me.  I closed my eyes.  I opened my mouth and all that came out was “Lord, You are enough.”  Silent tears streaked my face.   I repeated this over and over in a cadence rhythm.  “Lord, You are enough.  Lord keep being enough for me, Lord You are enough.” As I repeated this over and over, an out of this world tranquility washed over me.  The unexplained kind.  In this moment I had a vision of being in a raging fire.  I was in the center of the flames, not knowing what to do.  I could see a figure come to me.  He wrapped His arms around me—shielding me from the flames.  It was my Heavenly Daddy.  He got in the fire with me.  He is in the fire with me.  I sat up in the bed and sobbed a

Photo by Cody M. Lusk Lately at night I wake up and I need him.  I need to feel him close to me.  So I give in and randomly select videos out of the hundreds of him I have stored over the years.  Tonight I landed on a video of us on the same aluminum boat I watched him take his last steps onto.  The video was recorded on March 22, 2016 at 9:01 a.m.  Cody was checking juglines—the same thing he was doing the night he never came home.  He was fishing for catfish.  I am recording our morning adventure.  I found myself smiling through tears as I watched my beautiful husband sip his coffee, watched the steam escape from his mouth as he talked into the cold air.  That steam off his breath meant he was breathing and alive.  Our commentary on the video is so normal.  Life was so normal.  Watching back, I just wanted to climb into the video and wrap my arms around his body and never ever let go.  But I just sit and watch the screen.  He caught a catfish at the end of the jugline.  What I w

Grief.  Late nights of counting sheep, can’t sleep.  I want to scream.  The king sized bed is empty.  I am a mess.  I miss you like crazy.  I can’t catch my breath.  I am angry.  I am trying to stay strong.  I don’t get why you couldn’t be here.  I am angry at you for fishing that night.  I am angry at you for having to check the jug lines one more time before you planned to come in.  That one more time took you.  I can’t breathe sometimes.  I am suffocated with anger, fear, loneliness, guilt, memories, love that I can no longer give.  Grief.   But I have to be strong.  There is a little blue-eyed, blonde-haired baby girl that looks up to me.  She grins and my world is right again… for a moment.  And then I remember I will never see her in your arms again.  The lump in my throat returns.  I gulp it back.  Blinking back my tears rapidly so I don’t feel the hot liquid run down my cheeks.  Because then I can’t stop the streams.  Grief.   I question God.  I used to thi