Nobody Warned Me: Moving Forward to a New Beginning

"... but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

— Philippians 3:13-14

June 1, 2015: Two weeks after we buried my mom, today we buried my dad. His service was beautiful and so appropriately him. Thank you to all who attended, who sent well-wishes, and who participated by sharing their stories. I laughed, and I cried.

And a very special note of thanks and awe to Chuck Alexander (Insufficient Funds/First Presbyterian Church)— your voice astounds me, and the way you sing "I Bowed on My Knees and Cried Holy" is like no version I have ever heard before. (I think you do it better than Michael English.) That was exactly, exactly the way my dad would have loved it. I cried with gratitude as you sang.

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I knew this time would come. The day in the chapter of this story in which both my parents were gone, at least in this life.

I just didn't know they would pass so closely together — or at such young ages. As I've shared before, I thought my mother would live long past my dad. I feared she would suffer for a long time from losing him.

Mercifully, that is not the case.

I suppose God, Mom and Dad decided that Jimmy and Nicki should continue to be together in Heaven. They were a team for 55 years. Why stop now? I believe Mom went first so she could show Dad the way.

Or something like that.

I wonder if my mother was beckoning my dad when he was standing between here and there? I would like to think so.

I could ponder these questions forever, and they would and will give me comfort and things to smile about.

But still, here Kim and I are with the true "now what?"

It seems obvious that after we have settled post-funeral tasks, the answer is to just get back to living life the way it was before. She goes home to her family and business — which she will — and I put my house back together and resume whatever it was I was doing before.

The thing is, I had kind of been in transition mode when this all occurred. I was enjoying a peaceful life of freelance newspaper work, house projects and traveling with Dorsey to his various work sites. It was the calm blessing before the storm.

And why wouldn't I want to live in Bend? WOW.

As much fun as I had on those trips, especially to Bend, Oregon, (twice, where I'd love to live), Northern California (twice) and to New York and Connecticut for Jordie's birthday last year, the past seven months of my life have been the most meaningful. They've been the hardest and most painful, too. Ever. (And I've put myself through ridiculous amounts of pain in my life — so much so that I could reign as Queen of Ungraceful Aging.)

The peaceful calm I had been blessed with provided space and time I had never before experienced to begin a personal transformation — to a physically, spiritually and emotionally healthier me. This had been a two-year strengthening process when the dam with my parents' health broke loose.

The blessed work that began in me — what is now three years ago — took off at breakneck speed. I can honestly say I will never be the same.

Neither do I want to be.

So ... here I am. A different, better and much stronger person. (And I'm sure my sister is, too, but she has her own story to tell someday, if she wants.)

I have choices I never had before. Some truly are new opportunities, and some I just never believed I had. I have a different mindset and a renewed faith.

I feel intensely grateful that God let me have that time with my parents so they could finally experience the healthy me. They got to die knowing I was exactly how God created me to be and that they always knew I could be. That's all they ever wanted for me. Thanks be to God for that gift!

I realized, too, in this journey, that of all the things I've ever strived for in my life — for all the things I've ever run myself insanely ragged — the last seven months gave me exactly all I've ever wanted, too — the same thing my parents wanted for me.

For whatever reason (and perhaps another story for another time), it took me an exceptionally long time (45 of my now 46 years, to be exact) to accept God's grace for me in all my imperfections and finally get my bearings. Accepting God's grace was the secret all along. Why it clicked for me when it did on that exact date in July of 2014 is something I still ponder.

So you know ... It takes what it takes —both to get you where you need to be and to keep you there. My blessed last seven months with my parents (and my sister) has been the catalyst to plant me where I need to be now and allow me to grow. I'd be a fool to turn back now, so I won't. My job now is to continue to respect and honor God and my parents in whatever I do from here.

God is good ... in ALL things. He can and has transformed every unfortunate or ugly or cruel or tragic circumstance in my life into something beautiful. (Romans 8:28)