In April, 2020, I was one lost soul. Having moved to a new town only seventeen days after becoming a new widow, my life was unrepair-ably broken. At least, that’s what I believed at the time. The thought of taking care of a home sitting on 1/2 acre of intricate gardens was overwhelming. I almost cancelled the deal, but something inside promised I’d have the strength to go on.
Almost four years later, I’ve been blessed in ways that seemed improbable, if not impossible. My yard didn’t die. The house didn’t fall down around me. I found God, made new friends, fell in love, and married. To think it’s all happened to me brings me to my knees in gratitude.
My world came alive on December 12, 2022, my baptism day. Before then, God was busy directing my life from behind the scenes. Missing a move to the best little wide spot off the interstate on the high plains of Northwestern Nevada would have been the ultimate tragedy. If things hadn’t gone the way they did, I wouldn’t have traveled the path God intended for me.
Just days before the complicated real estate deal was to close, I was at my wits’ end. I was selling the Dun Movin House in Virginia City and buying Winterpast. The little restaurant in VC kept me alive Wednesday through Sunday. I’d order enough food to have some leftovers on Monday and Tuesday. With tearful trips off the mountain to deliver boxes to storage (350 in all), the devil had time to work on my brain.
“You can’t really handle 1/2 acre.”
“the new house is too expensive.”
“Living alone will be too much for you.”
“Your real estate deals are going to fall apart.”
The negatives kept rolling around in my brain, fueled with things EVERYONE knows.
“A widow shouldn’t move during the first year after her spouse dies.”
“A woman can’t possibly take care of husband-ly things.”
“A widow is weak and incapable of anything but a mass a tears.”
On a windy afternoon, I called my realtor and asked to see a smaller house on a local golf course. I was dangerously close to making a huge mistake. Walking through the tiny house with a tinier yard, I really considered the alternate home. Again, something inside told me to stay the course. Escrow had opened before my late husband’s cancer diagnosis. In the end, I’d stay with the original plan.
I’ve learned so many important truths in the last four years. I’ve discovered that I’m capable for caring for my own needs and have been all along. More importantly, I’ve learned to slow down and listen for an inner voice offering life’s advice. Even when the answer isn’t exactly what I want to hear, it’s probably what I need to do.
When the journey of widowhood is just too much to bear, turn to God for some help. During those lonely years, I prayed that angels would spread their wings over Winterpast and kept Oliver and I safe. When I asked for deep sleep, it came. When I asked for ultimate safety in my new home, HE delivered. When I prayed, through tears, for new friends he took the wheel and drove me to them. Slowly I learned HE was only a prayer away. Through long conversations, I now know HE is always there. Through those conversations, I know myself much better.
Whatever you do today, quietly listen while in a mindful state. God will hear whatever you need to say. With patience and faith, answers will come.
More tomorrow.