The beginning.

It has taken me 10 years to create this blog and post on it. I sit down to write and I get physically and mentally tired. It's a hard thing to write about something that is so painful. It's almost impossible to find the right words.
I have a hard time knowing just what I should write, what is the purpose for this. But I know I need to. The spirit has whispered to me many, many times over the last few years that I must do this.  I have had so many moments of insecurities and doubts, wondering, "Why would I be prompted to write about this?" I'm not a writer, I have a hard time expressing the things I feel.
I have spent many nights on my knees asking Heavenly Father for guidance so that I might know what he wants me to write.  Then in a still moment I felt the promptings of the spirit,  just write whatever it is that comes to mind, any painful thought or happy moment, just be open and share. Maybe there is one person out there who needs to read this, maybe that person is me? I have much to be grateful for and I need to share my experiences.



Mark 12:

42. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites which make a farthing.

43. And He called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury:

44. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living. 

I think about this poor widow alot. Who was she? What was her name?  Did she have children? How long had she been a widow when she cast in her mites that day?

I think she was young, too young to be a widow.
The line that sticks out to me over and over again is "but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living."  Maybe that just meant her money, all her "living" all that she had to provide for her family. But, now, to me this line means something different.
It is just what I did when my husband died. I cast in ALL of my living. That day, August 10, 2003 I gave all my will, trust, pain, sorrow and anger over to the Lord. All I was, all my hopes, and my fears were given over to Him.  Everything I had and everything I am.

I guess a good place to start is at the beginning, 

That night Joel was not feeling well, he complained that his stomach hurt and that he couldn't sleep.  When we finally went to bed, he tossed and turned and then stood, bent over, by the bedroom window. I remember just what he looked like standing in the moon light. He said he was going to go lay on the couch and watch TV for awhile. He kissed me and went downstairs. That was the last time I heard his voice. 

It was August 10, 2003, a Sunday morning. The phone rang around 8:00am and woke me up. I turned to my side and noticed Joel was not there. I got out of bed and crossed the hall to go to the bathroom. I looked down the stairs as I passed and saw Joel on the couch, "He doesn't look good," was my first thought, then my second thought was, "Dang I have to teach primary alone today." I went to the bathroom and had a very strong feeling to go get some clothes on. This is not normal, something is not normal. I did not want to look downstairs again as I returned to my room. I put some clothes on and went to the top of the stairs. I took one step down and called his name, "Joel?" Something was wrong! I stepped down a few more stairs and called a little louder. Nothing! I got to the bottom and walked to him, "This is not happening!" I thought. I looked at his foot that was resting on the floor, it was black and blue! I yelled at him "JOEL! JOEL!" I touched his chest, then his cold forehead, I shook him, I begged him to wake up, "PLEASE, JOEL WAKE UP!" I screamed and fell against the wall,  "God!" I yelled.  I often wonder why I yelled God, maybe it was a call,  no, a plead for him to help, to please be with me now!

I called 911 and they asked if I wanted to preform CPR, I told them no, he was gone, I knew it, I didn't want to believe it but I knew it. It was too late. His body was cold, his foot was black, he was stiff. I begged for them to hurry and get there, and then opened all the doors and windows, I felt like I was suffocating, "I can't breath! This is not happening!"  I  picked up Joel's cell phone and called his sister Melanie.  I screamed to her that Joel was dead.

Could this be real? Could Joel really be dead? He is only 26! A few hours before he was telling me how wonderful and dear I was to him and how much he loved me. Did his spirit know it was his last few hours? Did he sense something?
I remember some details about this day so clearly like when the first police officer got there and he checked for a pulse and then talking into the radio on his shoulder and reporting to who ever was on the other end that, "He is down." "NO!" I wanted to scream at the officer and beg him to bring him back, but I didn't. I already knew.  Or another vivid memory was  the look on Joel's dad's face as he walked slowly into the house to see his son. "My boy, my boy!" he cried out loud as he held him in his arms.
On the other hand, some things I don't remember ever happening at all until someone tells me about it.  Like, the other day, Sara, my oldest told me about sitting on the grass out in front of our house with my kids by my side and all the rest of the family circling around us, almost as if to protect us from the outside world.

As more and more cops and family showed up I went outside to sit on the porch. One of the officers brought my sweet 2 year old, Savannah, to me and sat her on my lap,  all dressed for church. He heard her cry out from upstairs while all the commotion was going on and went and got her. He had looked around and found a phone number for my friend, and visiting teacher, Cindy. He asked her to come get Savannah for me. I remember thinking how kind, thoughtful and gentle this man was.

As the family all gathered around my husband Joel, we cried and held each other. Joel's dad offered a prayer. I don't remember what was said, but I do remember that I felt Joel there. I felt his concern and sorrow for me and his family.

I am a widow, I'm 29 and my husband is dead. My kids have lost their dad and friend. I am alone. There are so many people around but I am ALONE.