thinking about thinking about writing

I sometimes think about my blog. About writing. And then I feel tired. I've never felt so tired so often as I do now. And I am obviously full tilt in an episode of self-pity. And I have things to be grateful for. What are they, say you? I'll save that for a rainy day. Goodnight

Until....

In a thousand hours or a thousand days or a thousand years, I vow to hold you, my husband, Rick, firmly within my cracked heart. I want to talk to you, to see your eyes look into mine, to see you smile and light up at my presence, the way you always have. I want to hold your hand, walk with you down a dusty country road, dangle my legs in a creek beside yours, smell you beside me, work beside you, feed and love and hold you forever. You sleep safely in Jehovah's arms until you are resurrectetd and we can go about these activities and others with joy and delight and without the fear of loss of any kind. I am yours. You are mine. Forever. Jehovah promised to satisfy my desire. And this desire, to be reunited with you, my husband, my mate, this is in harmony with his will. So...I breathe until I breathe not, I weep until I weep not, I laugh until I laugh not, and I wait for our first sunrise together again. O Jehovah, aid me now, in the depth of my sorrow and empty heart, to endure and to live a life of generosity. Help me end my selfish sorrows, until you see fit to restore to me what I have lost and need so dearly.

You, my husband, Rick, my beloved...may you be well pleased to know I loved you so well. And may you forgive any hurt I extended to you, as Jehovah has forgiven every last bit of any hurt you extended to yourself or anyone else. I love you, Rick, miss you madly....please come home.

things I probably never knew

my mother probably was wonderful and complex and bright and fearful and brave and scared and I probably never knew her heart. I mean...we look at our mothers so harshly...so judgmental. I could write alot of detailed reasons for my suppositions, but I hope to see my mother again some day and I think it's time I displayed some compassion and respect and honor for her...because as I am, I can't imagine she'd want to talk to me or spend time with me. Of course...I don't think she'll be mad at me then...but you never know, right?

Something I do know...I loved her. Not without reservation, but I loved her and wanted her. I don't know why that didn't happen with mine...makes me think there is something truly intrinsically missing in me. Oh, and I know...I want to know my mom and her heart. And I'm glad our hurts will be healed and forgotten. Thank you, Jehovah, for that.

for pity's sake

I feel the need to write, but have no idea what to write about. I am so full of this emptiness created by Rick's death...it's unbearable. I find myself wailing without let up, wanting what I can not have. Rick. Just to touch. See into his eyes. Smell. Hold. Talk to. Hear. Who am I kidding? I want him back so badly, I could never have begun to understand this. I'm trying to get ready for the district convention, and I can't focus. I want my husband. O Jehovah help me, please, to endure the unendurable.

The last breath taken by someone you love. The most horrible thing. Not breath. Not life. Last. Breath. No. More. Life.

I hurt. A lot.

I am alive. This should be cause for celebration, right? But I don't feel like celebrating. I have missing pieces. Richard Allen Beals. The two will be joined and they will become one flesh. My husband, my beloved Richard Allen Beals, died at 2:30 AM on 05/17/2010. After years of battling cancer, he went to sleep. I have as much confidence as is possible in the Bible's promise of the resurrection. I have some solace knowing he'll live again. Knowing he's no longer in the excruciating pain he was in. But I want him now. Right now. Forever. Never to lose him again. I can't tell you all the things I need to say to him. I can't tell you how I ache to touch his knee to capture his attention when I see a beautiful summer night sky or drive down a shady picturesque city street. I can't tell you how heavy my body feels, how hard it is to breathe, how many tears I am capable of. At this loss. I lost my companion. My bedmate. My love. The other person on the planet that thought my life was more important than his own. I miss him so...I need him. I am not whole without him. For those who decry this, who say I lack, well, phooey on you. I loved him, and I miss him and oh what I would give to just hold him again. I will. But not soon enough. Don't hate me, Jehovah, for being dissatisfied...I am dust, and you formed me...and you designed me with this longing for my husband. And it has nothing to do with the marriage bed. You know this is true. O Jehovah, how do I live? Only with your help, and because life is precious. It is bitter. I know how Naomi felt. I have been given bitterness. These words...won't bring me what I want and need. They just say how I feel. I hurt. Real bad. A lot. More than I could ever imagine I could have.

you are NOT alone!

as I go through arguably some of the most difficult days of my life, I receive a phone call. Jere's there, she says, "Hey, doll, what ya doin'? I just called to say hello! Now remember, you are NOT alone!" As she lovingly but firmly utters these words, I can see her shaking her small but mighty hands at me. No, I am not alone. Jehovah never leaves a righteous person alone, and though I don't presume to declare myself righteous, I do know I am loved. And I am not alone.