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.

time in a bottle

Jim Croce has to be, in my estimation, one of the finest lyricists of my generation. And he withstands. I'd like to put time in a bottle...however, I can't deny how picky I'd be about the minutes and seconds I'd place there. There are some really big ones. And some I can barely remember...but want back to live over and over. And do-overs. And take-backs. Yes...I'm obviously having a lapse...a digression of sorts. I want back what I can't have. But I want it unspoiled by the pain and sorrow and fear of loss that accompanies everything. I want back a moment when I lay with my husband examining his eyelashes. He's Irish. And before chemo and the great hair loss, his eyelashes were curly. I want that moment back. I don't want to have to endure the bad things to get it...please, Jehovah, let me have it back.
The day my daughter Christine took her first step. Such strong legs. I want that back. The day Sara sat in the back seat of a friend's car and ate dog biscuits from a book bag, the coated kind, and got 'gravy' from head to toe. I want that back, please.
The day my son Shane first begged me 'tickle me, mommy'. I want that back, please.
O Jehovah O Jah, if errors were what you watch...who could stand. Not I, dear Sovereign, not I.

Does Hope Float?

well, when you speak aloud something you've only uttered under your breath and to no one who can hold you accountable...it's as if you commit yourself to act on your words, right? I've done so. In prayer, but aloud, I've spoken of my desire to act. So a loving friend said 'first, form a PLAN OF ACTION' and she wrote this on the back of a menu while we were talking. Set forth a plan. What will it take to accomplish? Finances? Start saving. Consider the possible results of your actions. Are you prepared in all ways to cope with desired or undesired results of your actions? I'm imagined this step a hundred or more times. Now I've done more. I've made specific petition to the hearer of prayer, and will know his answer soon. I was asked, in regard to dealing with changing something if we could...if I knew for a certainty that I only had 24 hours left, what would I do? My immediate response was 'get on a plane'. So the point was made...none of us have any guarantees of the next day...time and unforeseen occurrence befall us all. So I am getting on a plane. I'm making plans, seeking guidance and direction, and will go to Corvallis and just attend the meeting, and under no obligation at all...Sara can choose to talk to me or not. I pray for the best outcome...and I can't believe Jehovah wants a bad one...he formed families, after all. So I am, like Jacob, petitioning my child for forgiveness and love, and hope that rather than find a wall or war, she greets me like Esau. We shall see...will road blocks arise? If so, perhaps it means, not no, but just not now? As in all things, Jehovah, not my will, please, but yours. So this is my course/plan of action for Sara. And even for Shane...I have an address and phone number for him, and although his father refused my call...perhaps he won't refuse someone else's. So...let's see.
Psalm 27:14 Hope in Jehovah; be courageous and let your heart be strong.
Yes, hope in Jehovah.

I finally knocked

I went to bed so utterly exhausted last night, I was probably sound asleep by 7:00 PM. The natural result? I'm awake at 3:00 AM. So I am here. Perusing my daughter's words. And finding ones I didn't know she'd written. She was longing for me in the middle of the night, and sure Sara and Shane must, as well. I don't know the answer to that. I've just begun (I can say 'just begun' because this is recent in a lifetime that has expanded more than 48 years, although it began in September) to fight, to see the need to act on my intense longings. Let me explain. I have screamed inside, wept buckets and buckets, ground my teeth into near oblivion, eaten my way through years and years of painful longing...longing for things I've allowed others to take from me. It is as if I had a yard sale, stating, "Here they are, the valuable things, take them!" These 'things' aren't things at all. They are people. People I love and need with such intensity that I've screamed and wept inside and simply ASSUMED that this would be conveyed. I mean...can't the world see my pain? Can't the universe see and feel it? Can't the sheer magnitude of it be felt by Christine, Shane, and Sara, so that simply by feeling this immense pain, expending these fountains of tears, wearing away the enamel on my teeth, flooding my system with harmful calories...can't all of this just be felt and understood and KNOWN by them? As if by osmosis or something? WELL, OF COURSE NOT! The fact is, I've spent this time aching without conveying, without ACTING!!!!! So I have begun to take action. Guess what? I took an action. And got what I needed. Christine, you are here, in my heart. Not just a whisper or promise of someone, but a real living adult and beautiful woman...and when I knocked, you opened the door. My groanings unuttered were answered. I'm not done. I won't be done until Jehovah says I'm done. And in the meantime, I will keep working toward my goal. I gave birth 3 times. I loved 3 people without reservation or expectation. They don't exist without me. I'm no creator. But these individuals are on the planet because I gave birth. I need and want you, Shane Michael DeMoss, Sara Elizabeth DeMoss, and one day, perhaps, you'll know, as your sister does, how much, and you will open the door when I knock.