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So, I know it has been quite a while since I have written, and you probably thought I was done; no such luck!  I have much to say, but I have to wait until God gives me words to express my thoughts.  I will write out of sequence, as the thoughts flow, and trust you will be able to make order of my musings.

Holidays have been challenging for us since Joe died, and Easter was no exception.  Joe missed family time while traveling, but he was always with us for holidays, and provided a special effervescence to the occasions.  Joe could be serious and quiet, but he could also be the life of a party.  During holidays, he would relax, laugh more often, and tell jokes which everyone but me understood, which added to the fun (he and the kids just thought it was hilarious when he would tell some esoteric joke I didn’t understand until minutes later, when I would laugh and then they would ask “Did you just now get the joke Mom?”  Then they laughed more, with the opportunity to poke a little fun at me).  It was also a loose family tradition to see a movie, and we looked forward to all these moments with expectations of fun and merriment.

So, Thanksgiving was torture (a blog unto itself), Christmas was not too bad because we went on vacation after, and as Easter rolled around, Laurel, Jackson and I were looking for diversions to occupy the hours until our “regular” lives began again.  We went to church and did indeed celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, but afterwards the day dragged as, with somber emotions, we mourned our loss.

Jackson and I decided to go fishing.  It was a gorgeous day, sunny and temperate, and we thought both the fishing and weather would be good distractions.  While Jackson readied his lines, and cast, I skimmed magazines and books, played phone games, and passed the time waiting on a catch by web surfing.  I noticed a fit youngish guy jog by, but gave him no other thought.

Some time passed, and the jogger reappeared as he completed his run.  I assumed he would run on by us (and quite honestly wanted him to, because I don’t really like to be approached by strangers), when he detoured into our space.  “Oh lord” I thought, bracing myself for polite chatter.  Leaving me to answer, Jackson ignored him and continued fishing, even as the runner asked, “How’s the fishing?”  He then got down to business.  “Do you guys know the Lord?”  I have been asked this question many times. When I worked for Social Services, my clients would occasionally ask me, and I was always uncomfortable.  Why did it matter whether or not I was a believer?  Did that make me a better (or worse) case manager?  Were they going to witness to me in the office?

I quickly responded, “We do,” in an unsuccessful attempt to fend off any lengthy conversation (Jackson was studiously ignoring him now).   Running man then asked if we had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  OK.  Wow!  I LOVE Jesus, and God, and am ready to talk about them, especially when someone is curious about Christianity, but I feel turned off somehow when a person begins proselytizing, and spouting scripture to me; it feels like I am just another potential convert for them, to claim another soul for Christ.  It’s hard for me to describe; maybe you feel like I do, or perhaps you are one of God’s followers who looks for every opportunity to spread His word.

Anyway, now feeling very squirmy, and trying in earnest to shut the runner down, I answered, “Oh yes.  We are Methodists and we go to church regularly!”  I could almost see Jackson’s eyes rolling as he listenned without appearing to do so.  “What a dumb answer!” I thought, and then proceeded to add, “We’re Christians.”  I know, I know, my responses were so awkward, but I felt awkward, and I couldn’t think, because I was so consumed with how long he was going to talk to us.

What occurred next has never happened to me, ever.  The runner (I never got his name) moved in closer, and told us that as he was running past, God asked him to pray for the man in the red shirt.  Jackson had on a red shirt; our friend was referring to Jackson!  He asked if we had a specific need for him to pray about, and I told him about Joe; I said Laurel was at home, and both kids were trying to cope with the loss of their beloved Dad, and were also struggling with anger over Joe “being taken too soon.”  He went over to Jackson and talked with him a while.  He told Jackson that he wasn’t in the same situation, as both his parents were still alive, but that he had been angry over some family situations and made some  poor decisions several years earlier, as he attended UNC.  He said he continued that way until the day Jesus sat down beside him and changed the course of his life.  He assured Jackson God felt his pain, understood his anger, and loved him.  He reminded Jackson God was his Father too, and longed to comfort him.

He asked me if I had any physical pains, particularly on my left side.  He felt there was a specific problem area he was to pray for; although my left knee was in a lot of pain (I was trying to do a walk/run regimen and my body disagreed), I didn’t mention it.  I told him I was in pain from various ailments, but I still don’t understand why I failed to share about my knee.  He asked us to move closer, but in a humorous way, said we didn’t need to hold hands, and he prayed for Laurel, Jackson and myself.  He asked God to give us peace, to be with each of us, to heal me from the physical pain I was having, to comfort us and surround us with His love.

Before he left, I remarked I would have a difficult time if God asked me to go up to a stranger and pray for them.  He said at first, it felt strange, and he was slightly embarrassed, but that every time he followed through with God’s invitation, the request was valid.  In every situation, the prayer was necessary.  He also said each time he followed through, and received confirmation of the validity of the request, it was easier the next time to listen and obey.

Jackson and Laurel don’t talk much about emotions, so I don’t know the degree of impact the prayer has had on them.  I sometimes see a lightness to Jackson’s demeanor that had been missing since Joe’s death.  Laurel is harder to read; Grief continues to look for cracks into which it can burrow, to steal her energy and leave her an empty vessel, as climbing ivy does to a tree.  But Laurel is armed with the axe of strength and grace from God, and she is pruning Grief, although she has not eradicated him.

As for me?  Since the entreaties from a follower who obeyed God’s commission and became His voice, I have experienced a sense of peace surrounding Joe’s absence.  I miss him daily, and I continue to talk to him most days, but the anchor of sorrow, which had previously chained me to a place of pain and emptiness, has lifted.  I am not sailing yet, but I am free-floating, and the breeze of healing is welcome.

Oh, and my left knee you ask?  God mandates us to help ourselves, and to think.  My knee is fine; I stopped the run of “walk/run,” and I just walk.  I am too old, and too heavy to be running.  Now, ask me again about running when and if I drop 50 pounds!