Step By Step

"Hope does not necessarily take the form of excessive confidence; rather, it involves the simple willingness to take the next step." -- Stanley Hauerwas

I woke up this morning and had to remind myself it was Saturday. Then, being the number-obsessed person that I am, I was groggily trying to figure out what that made the date on the calendar. ' October 4th. Oh my gosh -- October 4th!' And then I lay there with a smile for a minute.

Twelve years ago today, after some "pre-event festivities" in the dorm, the juniors in the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M formed up behind Duncan Dining Hall, just behind the band. They milled around with their dates, if they had one, looking around nervously for seniors who were looking to smack them on top of their heads and rattle their bonfire pots (helmets). The rest of the attendants of Midnight Yell practice that night were already assembled at Kyle Field in the student section of the stadium, straining to hear the distinct thud of the bass drums echoing throughout the massive east Texas campus as the procession of the Fightin' Texas Aggie Band and the following entourage would make their way through campus and onto the football field.

Upon walking into the stadium and onto the sacred green grass, the crowd cheered wildly as they did every other time. The yell leaders roused the assembled group into a maroon frenzy as they led the yells (not cheers at A&M; that's for sissy schools with female hussies cheerleaders). Finally, after the "Beat The Hell" yell, as per usual, the lights were turned out at Kyle Field and the smooching began! For about three minutes, in the electrified darkness of the football field, those with dates got to kiss in keeping with Aggie tradition. When the lights came back on, a few more yells were done, everyone proceeded out of the stadium, and we probably don't want to know how the night ended for those in attendance...

If you could've been in that crowd looking down on the field at a dashing, young man in a red Company L-2 t-shirt, you would've seen him look sheepishly down at his date, give her a grin, and have his first kiss with her, a kiss that would begin almost a decade of love, children, the military, and end so quietly on November 30, 2005, in Shreveport, Louisiana, a kiss that can still be felt even today. You would've seen a ditzy blonde who had had one too many margaritas (I think; can't remember!!) who had been swept off her feet by this tall, dark, and handsome boy and had waited for over a month for him to finally ask her out. That's where it all began, folks, and the rest, they say is history...

I usually remember and celebrate this date, but I must admit it snuck up on me this year. I will always remember it, however, and I know it will always make me smile and chuckle a little at how young we were (and how stupid I was to drink all those margaritas!) and all of the good times we had, especially in college. It's a good memory.

I immediately fast-forward to the first summer after T. was gone. He had died 8 months earlier and I was realizing that I would probably want to have another relationship. This brought me no guilt; perhaps it should have. T. was a man of his word. He had told me more than once that, if anything should happen to him, that I should remarry. I, of course, told him that he was bound to me for eternity and, should he remarry, I would haunt him and the heffer he was with, so he'd better not chance it. At any rate, I was interested in men but was very nervous and insecure around them. Basically, they scared me to death. I hadn't dated in ten years -- had things changed that much?!? (Answer: more than you know!)

My first "relationship" after T. was weird. I tried the online dating thing, too, and all of my friends and family (who, conveniently, were married) freaked out at the thought of me going on a date with a perfect stranger met via these sources. It was a liberating feeling knowing that I was able to attract people, but I was also very afraid of letting them too close to me or the kids. There were many, many times where I figured this was my cross to bear, like it or not, and I was destined to hell on earth be alone forever. My friends would get to prattle on about their husbands, complain about what a drag it was to "have to" have sex with their husbands, get to be invited to things for couples, find out that they were pregnant (again! tee hee!), go out to dinner and watch a movie together, etc., and I would get to watch from the sidelines. My bonus prize for being a widow? Getting to hang around married people. Getting to hear moms complain that dads would rather take a nap or go hunting that help out with the kids ("I swear -- it is so hard to do everything by myself! I mean, he really does not know what I go through!"). Have to pay double to stay at a resort or go on a cruise because the rooms are meant for double occupancy. Eat alone at a restaurant. Go to the movies. Alone. Mow my yard, install and repair things in the house, maintain the vehicle, teach my kids to fish, fix broken furniture, etc. Alone. While the married couples rolled their eyes at each other.

I remember where I was when I realized that I was created for companionship. I was sitting at church, and my dear friend and pastor at the time was preaching about adam and eve (not capitalized on purpose; that's a whole other blog). At any rate, it is "right and salutary" that we should desire relationships and connection with others, especially male/female relationships and marriage. I guess I was waiting on a green light from God, and I felt like I had it.

There are scores of people who have lost a spouse that are, for whatever reason, unable to reach even this point. They dwell in the safety and comfort of that relationship, and for some it is all they say they desire. I would venture to guess a couple of things here:

1) The pain of losing their spouse is overwhelming, and eventually, the pain they feel becomes their companion. To be rid of that pain of loss would be akin to the complete absence of that person. They would rather hold on to the pain because, in an indirect way, it keeps that person close.

2) The number one reason that you hear (and honestly I question): issues of fidelity. Personally, I blame this on the modern, western concept of heaven. People romantically envision their spouse waiting patiently for them at the pearly gates, where they'll join hands and walk into the light to spend eternity together. *insert chirping birds and release the white doves on cue... To give one's self to another man/woman, even emotionally or romantically, much less physically, is to violate their marriage vows. They have become a cheater just because they didn't want to be lonely. How selfish of you. Bad widow/widower!

3) Maybe their marriage was less-than-ideal and they are finally free from emotional or physical bondage. To enter into another relationship seems like opening up a raw wound. Why would I want to let history repeat itself? they might ask.

4) They risk being hurt again, and quite frankly, they have checked off the "personal tragedy" box, thank you very much -- no need to ask for a second helping there. I think I myself fall into this category, but I didn't necessarily fit here at the beginning of my journey. My fellow heartbroken peeps just don't know how or if they'll survive a break up, a cheater, etc., in addition to having lost a spouse. The griefwork they already have to do is a heavy task, so why add to the load?

5) They perceive factors that should keep them from being "on the market" again. This could be age, appearance, children, and a kajillion other things. I most definitely fell into this category at first, although I have moved past it. My biggest factor was my children and their ages: Li'l G was 2 1/2 years old when T. died, and Bud was 9 months old and still nursing. Who was going to want to raise two small children with me? Or worse yet, who was going to find a stretched out, post-partum body attractive? T. was still attracted to me, but he saw my body when it was young and perky and watched it change with time and maternity. I was beautiful to him, but not in a single guy, lemme-put-dollar-bills-in-your-thong sort of way. You know what I mean.

And let me interrupt the blog right here to talk about plastic surgery for widows. If anyone out there wants to get upset that some of us do this, let me invite you to go sit on a pincushion. HARD. The perception is that, now that they roll naked in billions of insurance dollars on a daily basis and plot ways to throw away blood money, all widows go get themselves a pair of knockers because they've got "all this money to spend" now. Please, feel free to go stand on a subway track at rush hour and report back on how that felt. Most of the people (usually women) who do this, like me, feel completely undesirable and embarassed at how they will be perceived by a potential mate. If these people can do anything at all to restore a shred of confidence in themselves, then I say go for it. As long as they aren't snorting nose candy or becoming abusive alcoholics (which happens WAY more often than you'd think) and neglecting their kids, let these people get on with their lives without criticism. Chances are you wouldn't last a day going through what they go through.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled blog post. Where was I? Oh, yes. It is such a huge step to take back on to the dating field after loss. Terrifying. Worrisome. Stressful. I won't even lie. I'm in a fantastic relationship with R. and even then I still worry about things. But I have found that the risk has been worth it. I have learned lots about myself, but probably more about other people. I have learned that I'm really in this on my own. I know three other people, out of the scores of friends and family I'm blessed to have, that are in my shoes, one of whom is another military widow we served with at FT Riley. No matter how I explain things or look to my married friends for advice, sorry guys, it's just not working. We operate in such different spheres. I have to switch into my once-married brain just to be a part of conversation with them and function, much less not get my feelings hurt. It's not their fault they are still married, be it happily or not. And I'm so very thankful they cannot understand what my life is like; if they did, geez. Beyond terrible. Don't want to think about it.

I'd love to talk about how rewarding my relationship with R. is, but at his request, I try not to mention him on the blog. As I've said before, that's hard because I feel like I could really be sharing valuable insight and experience with other people, like me, who feel like they're all alone in this weird journey. All I can say is that every step has been important, and I have learned so much along the way. I was so scared that I'd never feel love again, as in, never have the capacity to love like that. (And it's hysterical at what a big deal the marrieds make out of the whole issue of sex, too. There are so many other things to worry about, but I digress.) I was scared about making myself (and my kids) vulnerable. I didn't realize how much "dirty laundry" in my heart I had to do until I was in the throes of my relationship with R. He doesn't realize it, but in needing to open myself up to him, I realized I was hanging on to unfinished business with T. In order to fully make my heart available to him, I needed to have some closure on those issues. It has been real work, let me tell you! But sooo worth the risk involved. And it has all been one HUGE opportunity to learn about trusting Abba.

One of my favorite verses I found recently was Psalm 116:5-8, and I keep it posted on the mirror in my bathroom:

"The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you. For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling."

I have needed reminding all along the way that I can rely on God, that he is consistent and faithful. It's an easy lesson to forget.

I don't know if most or even half of all who lose a spouse ever decide to take that next step in their lives toward loving again. I can tell you it's worth it, if you are someone out there in this position and wondering. (I can tell you NOT TO BRING THIS UP IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FUNERAL or even for the first six months if you are someone trying to console a person who has lost a spouse.) After all, as Stanley Hauerwas said, the simple willingness to take the next step may be the biggest step you take of all.

Among God's best gifts to us are the people who love us.