Ice Cream, Tostitos and Jesus

Joe and I ordered a new couch from a furniture store in Denver about two weeks before he died. The night before it was to be delivered, we needed to move our old couch into the garage to make space for our new arrival. Our garage is a two-car garage, but one of us would have to park outside so the old couch would fit in there. I got in my car to move it outside (slightly put out, I might add -- it was quite chilly), when Joe yelled at me that he would park outside. I yelled back that I would park outside. He yelled back that he would park outside. We persisted back and forth for a minute or two, both crying, until Joe said softly, “You have to let me park outside.”

What our hearts realized at that moment was that the roles we had always played in our relationship were changing -- that our story together (at least here on earth) was reaching its final chapter. Both of us were sad and scared, and neither one of us could do anything about it.

I can’t remember who said it or if I read it somewhere recently, but the sign of a good marriage is one in which both people feel like they got the better end of the deal. I happen to know that I won the lottery with Joe; but for some reason, he always felt the same about me. We fulfilled each other’s greatest need. I was needy, and Joe needed to be needed. That night, I needed for Joe to park outside, and Joe needed me to need him to park outside.

I’ve been able to fill the needy hole a little bit by remembering the lessons Joe taught me, relying on family and friends who have been amazing and by even hiring professionals to help out here and there. I’m busy and fulfilled with a new job, a new church and with exercise class, tennis and hiking. But I can’t shake the loneliness. It’s always there, following me around like my shadow. It’s the knowing that when something good or funny or bad happens in my life, the person I love most isn’t here to listen and laugh about it. There’s no one who understands how funny it is when Bella runs around in circles in the field, and no one to share dinner with. I eat Oregon Hazelnut and Salted Caramel “really creamy” ice cream with mashed up Reese Cups (my personal touch) and handfuls of Tostitos for dinner, and don’t really even enjoy it (much). A couple of years ago, I read an article about a man who lost his wife to cancer. One of the things he said was that he had a lot of people to do something with, but he had no one to do nothing with. It’s this restless “by-myself-ness” that’s confusing and overwhelming and makes me tired.

Lonely, needy and tired. So now what?

It’s really quite simple. I think God backs us into a corner, because He wants us to realize that He is our only answer. He wants to be our Father, our Friend, our Healer, our Light, our Refuge, our All in All, our Everything. He is the only Person who can take care of me better than Joe. But I have to let Him, and it’s my choice to make.

Why is it so hard for me to let Him be Who He says He is? Can a spiritual relationship with our Creator be as real and as satisfying as a husband/wife relationship? What does a deep spiritual relationship with Christ look like? How can you have a best friend you can’t even see? I don’t pretend to know the answers to these questions. But I do know that He was there for both Joe and I when Joe was sick, and He’s been there for me in undeniable ways after Joe’s death. My head knows He won’t disappoint on a deeper level, but my heart just doesn’t know how to give in even though it wants to. I think it’s broken.

The most important thing I know is that Jesus died, rose again and defeated death so that I can live forever with Him in Heaven – with all of the folks I love! For this sacrifice, I owe Him my best efforts at getting to know Him for everything that He is. He’ll take care of the rest.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” --Jeremiah 29:13

I’ve posted this song before on Caringbridge or Facebook, because it reflects how I’ll always feel about Joe. I also do a weird thing with songs sometimes, where I turn them around to be Christian songs. The songwriter probably didn’t intend this in most cases, but I do it quite frequently. After all, Christ created everything, including music, so it makes sense that “A Better Place” could be considered my prayer to my Savior. A song for Joe and for Jesus - kind of a BOGO (buy one, get one free).

Oh – and who ended up parking outside? Joe, of course. It was cold, after all. Joe always kept me warm and safe -- he made my world a better place. God led Joe and I to each other (a match made in Heaven), so I trust that He will amaze me like He’s always done if I find the courage to give my heart fully to Him. And thank God, He has made this world and the next a better place for all of us.

“So I pour my heart into your hands
It's like you really understand
You love the way I am.” -- Rachel Platten, A Better Place