“Picnic in the park…it’s date night!”

“Give us this day our daily bread.”  Matthew 6:11 KJV

Remember when you were a kid and summer stretched out before you like an endless ocean of fun? I do. We played all over the neighborhood from morning till dusk when the street lights came on. Then you could still be outside playing for a while but you had to be out in front of the house. Finally, mom would call us in and we would drag our seriously sunburned and mosquito bitten bodies in for a much needed bath. If we were really good, we got milk and cookies or a bowl of ice cream before bed.

Even though I didn’t own a calendar and I never really payed much attention to time, I always knew when summer was drawing to a close. You could hear the loud “whee-oh-whee-oh-whee-oh” of the cicadas droning in every tree in the neighborhood. There is a constant serenade of night noises in the summer in West Virginia. Our climate is bug heaven. But it was the cicadas, or locusts, that were the harbinger of fall. As we drove around town last night, we heard their incessant buzzing every time we passed a tree. I cannot hear them without having that same back-to-school cozy feeling I got when I was a kid.

“Sunset over the Ponderosa.”

“The Lord examines the righteous, but the wicked, those who love violence, he hates with a passion.”  Psalm 11:5 NIV

One would think, after nearly five-and-a-half years as a widow, I wouldn’t still be gaining insights into the nature of grief. After all, I’ve written nearly 2,000 daily essays...many dealing with the subjects of death and dying. I’ve passed many milestones. I’ve fallen in love again. Yet, it never ceases to amaze me when I get to peel back another layer and learn something about myself through the lens of loss.

Before Mr. Virgo died, I never really thought about death…not on the daily anyway. I had certainly dealt with loss. My beloved grandma, my wonderful mom, and even my estranged father. Still, those losses didn’t put death in my sights. Since his death, however, the prospect of losing someone so close to me again has caused me a great deal of anxiety and a fair amount of fear. Early on, there were so many times when I felt I was just one crisis from losing it completely and my prayer was always, “Lord, please keep everyone safe. I can’t lose another one. I don’t have it in me.” I remember telling people I loved to be extra careful. Don’t get hurt. What I was really saying was, “Please, don’t die.” 

“Ironic…Oprah’s De-Clutter issue on top of one of my piles. Oy!”

“But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.”  2 Chronicles 15:7 NIV

I am a well rounded individual. I know how to do a lot of different things. I know my way around a tool box, I can do just about any crafty thing, I can tow a camper across the country and back...several times. But, I’ve got to tell you...organization is NOT in my skill set. This is an old photo, taken in the “junk room” at the house I shared with Mr. Virgo when we lived in Denver. A lot of what you see here are art supplies and various papers...records, receipts, ephemera. Some of it was my mother’s and grandmother’s. But the biggest majority was my crap that I hauled around from house to house, paying perfectly good money to have it moved rather than bite the bullet and downsize. 

In those days, downsizing was inconceivable to me. This was my STUFF! And, just like my first two husbands, Mr. Virgo hated it. Why do you think I call him Mr. Virgo? He and my second husband both were Virgos. Highly organized. Highly intolerant of piles. I, however, was all about the sparklies. I have the attention span of a toddler. 

“The wilderness of Colorado offered me a place of solace to grieve.”

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”  Matthew 4:1 NIV

When Mr. Virgo died and I went alone into the wilderness and backroads of Colorado for three months, I was often faced with views such as this. Vast expanses of wilderness, as far as the eye could see. I could go days without seeing another soul. It was what my heart needed...to walk alone with God. To seek quiet counsel with my Father who could comfort me like no other. To feel free to express my emotions in ways that could release the pain and anguish without constraint. It was all part of the life-altering experience of loss and healing.

Pastor Justin spoke yesterday of what happened to Jesus after he was baptized. In Matthew, Chapter 4, Jesus had just been baptized and was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness. There, he was met by the enemy who tempted him. After fasting for forty days and forty nights, Jesus was hungry. Satan scoffed at him saying, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” To which Jesus answered that man shall not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. The devil led him to a high point and commanded Jesus to jump, saying surely God’s angels would catch him and he would not be harmed. Jesus said, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” Again, the enemy took Jesus to the highest point and offered to give Him all of the kingdoms if He would just bow down and worship him. To which Jesus replied, and I paraphrase here…Get the heck away from me! I will serve only my Father in Heaven!

“Brer Rabbit better stay out of my tomatoes!”

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”  2 Corinthians 4:16-18 NIV

The other day when I was out at the farm doing laundry, I sat on the front porch with my coffee and wrote my post. There was a little traffic, but nothing like earlier in the summer so I wasn’t paying any attention. I was gazing around when suddenly, I hear someone whistling. Sound direction can be deceiving with all the woods and hills and hollers so I couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. I carefully scanned the neighbor’s place across the road to see if they were home but there was nothing. The whistling sounded all the world like it was coming from behind our farmhouse. I sat very still and suddenly I could hear voices. Two distinct voices having a conversation, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. It only lasted ten seconds or so and was gone. It was quite eerie, but I shook it off and went on with my writing.

As I was driving home…suddenly, I heard the voices again. I could catch a word or two, but could not get the gist of what was being said. I checked my phone because it kind of sounded like when you set your phone down but don’t put it on speaker. You can hear the conversation, but not clearly. It wasn’t the phone. I glanced at the radio to see if perhaps it had come on. Nope. It wasn’t the radio. This went on for several minutes. 

“Goldfinch on the thistle sock. Life on a farm is full of wonder!”

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”  Isaiah‬ ‭55:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Since the power went off in the middle of doing laundry Thursday, I went back out to the farm yesterday to finish up. The weather is tropical rainforest sticky and more rain is in the forecast. I set up my iPad on my little red café table on the front porch to write while the clothes were in the wash. 

One thing I have noticed the last few weeks is the drastic reduction in heavy equipment traffic. It’s a darned good thing because there isn’t much left of the blacktop on this old country road. Depending who you talk to, they may or may not repave. They are currently digging up the worst spots and filling the large rectangular spaces with base and gravel. This has eliminated the deepest holes, however it has left the entire road a washboard of gravel and old asphalt. I’m hoping we will get a new road by winter but I’m not holding my breath. I’m just grateful the heavy trucks have pretty much stopped. 

“A summer-fresh supper…Silver Queen sweet corn, fried green tomatoes, and Amish potato salad.”

“Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce.”  Jeremiah 29:5 NIV

Yesterday we went to the farm to mow and do laundry. Mr. FixIt outside, me inside. We have one of those fancy schmancy washer dryers at the Ponderosa. You know, with the water savings and a gazillion buttons...setting for things I don’t even understand. And, there’s no agitator. Just this little flat, bumpy circle on the bottom. The first time I did laundry here, everything black had white soap residue all over it. It didn’t matter how many times I rinsed, I couldn’t get rid of it. Then, it takes forever to dry a load of clothes. When one load takes a total of three hours, I don’t understand the savings.

Mr. FixIt has tried to show me how this thing works, but I just don’t get it. And, since I have to go out to the farm a few times a week anyway, I just take the laundry out there. There’s a regular old Kenmore washer and dryer out there. The water and the gas are free and I can get four loads done in the same time it takes to do one at home, and no white residue on the black clothing. Win-Win.

“Firsts don’t only come once.”

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”  Psalm 147:3 NIV

The other day, I was reading a tweet from a gal that I follow. She was commenting about a deep feeling of grief she felt she had long ago left behind her. She is a widow and her youngest was off to college. Another “first”. They don’t always come in the first year. There are graduations, and weddings, and grandchildren, and vacations, and retirement...all things you thought you were going to get to do with your person.

When you are newly bereaved, the initial shock numbs you. You walk in a haze as you go through the motions of planning a funeral, greeting the attendees, and writing all those Thank You notes. Somewhere before too long, you start peeling back all these layers and grief continually bubbles up as you realize all the things you have lost along with your loved one. You have a sense of this loss up front. But you don’t realize how it will affect you when you get to those milestones. They can knock you down just as hard as some of the earlier waves of grief.

“Mamma Mia! I’ve always loved what Daughter #1 called ‘Singing and Dancing Movies’.”

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”  1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV

We were at the mall the other day and I saw that Mamma Mia 2 was showing. I asked Mr. FixIt if he had ever seen the original and he said he hadn’t. Well, we couldn’t go see the second till he saw the first, so I downloaded it on i-Tunes. We watched it Monday night and he really enjoyed it.

Yesterday was mowing day at the Ponderosa and when we were finished, Mr. FixIt asked if I wanted to go see the new movie. Now, this would only be the second time he and I have gone to a movie together. We don’t even watch them at home. Because…I don’t watch TV. I can’t even tell you what the name of the movie was we saw last year. I don’t remember what it was about. All I know is it was LONG and I sat through it thinking of about a million other things I could be doing with that time.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord showed me: a basket of ripe fruit.” ‭‭Amos‬ ‭8:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

We went to the class picnic on Saturday and took a whole bowlful of vine-ripened yellow tomatoes...still warm from the summer sun. I gathered them carefully in a bucket, rinsed them to get off the garden dirt and bugs, and sliced them thick. As I held these golden orbs of sweet juicy perfection, I lifted them to my nose to breathe in the smell of summer. I took out the cutting board shaped like an aspen leaf that was a gift from Brooke Allen and staff...my last real job before I took off in my camper for two years or so.

I placed the warm tomato on the cutting board and reached for the presentation box where I still keep the cutlery set Mr. Virgo was given by the Ritz Carlton as a reward for his hard work and dedication. I held the handle of the chef’s knife in my right hand, feeling the heft and the balance. I admired the beautiful colors of the inlayed handle…reds, browns, yellows. I remembered his sense of awe and pride when he showed them to me. The blade is sharp and made quick work of the task at hand. I carefully rinsed the knife, dried it, and put it back in its presentation case and placed it in the middle utensil drawer.