Pathetic or Am I Grateful?

Something very awkward happened to me yesterday.  We had our annual Thanksgiving Mass at school, and the kids brought items for the food pantry to the altar.  It was a rainy morning, but so far the day had gone well. 

I had my hymnal in my hands to sing as we were going up to Communion.  The song was Harvest of Justice, by David Haas.  I've sang the song several times, and I like it.

But I wonder if I have ever really paid any attention to the words.  The 3rd verse went something like this...clothes for the naked, food for the hungry, (something here I can't remember), hope for the widow.  I was singing along and "hope for" was on one line, and as I glanced down and saw "the widow", I had to choke out the words.

Poor widow.  I wonder how many looked at me and felt pity.  How many looked at me and thought, yep, there's a poor widow that we need to pray for.  Suddenly the word widow felt so awful, and I felt overcome with anger that I am a widow.  I even felt angry at Brian for making me a widow (how crazy is that).  I walked the last few feet to the front of church to receive Communion, and on the way back, I felt in a daze.  I kneeled down and told God I don't want to be a widow, and I don't want to be in a song.  I don't want to be grouped with so many out there who need food, shelter and clothing.  How did my plight end up being anywhere related to the hardships of the hungry and poor?

I am on the Ministry Center board so I am involved in a lot to do with the food pantry, and I have plans to start working on the clothing room side.  So I know the needs, and I felt overwhelmed that I, the Widow Halley, would even be mentioned in a song.

It didn't sit well with me for most of the day.  It has nothing to do with thinking I am better than those who need clothing or food.  On the contrary, it felt more like I shouldn't be using up prayers because so many are struggling to feed hungry mouths.  So many things ran through my head, mostly wondering if others seriously felt sorry for me.

Last night I was in the bathroom taking off my makeup, as well as finding some crusted cool whip along my jaw line (got pied yesterday for the American Heart Assn).  Tye came to the door and knocked and said, why did you love my dad?  Wow!

I answered.

And did you like to kiss him?

Oh, yes!

(Giggling) So you wanted to get married with him?

This whole deal kept me awake last night.  The odd thing was, when I laid there pondering my widowhood at such a young age, I actually did feel sorry for myself.  I thought, you know, this totally sucks, and I don't think I am ever really going to get used to this.  I felt a little different about the song.  Instead of feeling angry about it, I was starting to feel a little more grateful.  How did I shift from being ticked that I sang a song today about widows to being thankful?  I closed my eyes and thought I just must be crazy!  Then I realized that I was thankful because someone noticed.  The author of the song noticed that a widow would always need prayers, especially for hope, especially someone like me.  I have lost so much hope, and I should be grateful that the entire church sang a song of prayer for me and other widows, young and old.  And while our financial plight might be different in the fact that I am blessed to be able to feed and clothe and shelter my children without struggle, it doesn't mean that I don't need and deserve someone to care for me and pray for me.  So somehow I became pathetically thankful....almost a split of feeling like poor me, while also feeling blessed to have a loving church family who prayed for me. 

So how is it for a widow whose husband has been dead for 614 days (which is 87 weeks and 5 days, or 20 months and 4 days)...so how is it?  Brian's name is rarely mentioned to me.  I do have several friends and family who feel comfortable saying something to me about him when something naturally comes up.  Besides that, several days go by with me grieving him silently, mostly because I am ok with keeping him and his memory inside me, even if I do it alone, and also because that is just life.  It goes on, and it should go on, despite the fact that I am a widow.  I don't actually feel sorry for myself, just sorry for what was lost, sorry for what my children went through and how it has affected us, sorry for Brian suffering, and for not being able to save him (even though I know I couldn't), sorry that my son has no father, and sorry that he is starting to forget things about Daddy.  So maybe I do actually feel sorry for myself, I just don't know.  I know that I am deeply saddened by the thought of another 614 days without him, wondering what the next 614 days will do to me as a person, to the girls, and to Tye's memory of Daddy.

There is so much that I am not sorry about.  I remind myself daily to be proud of my belief that I helped Brian get to Heaven.  I also believe that I brought much happiness into his life, and he was blessed to love and be loved by me, and by Rachel and Amberlea.  I'm not sorry for spending every ounce of energy to care for him, although I do have regrets on how that affected my relationship with Rachel.  I don't feel sorry for missing him, even when I have to miss him alone.

So I guess hope for the widow is something I should ask for.  I do need prayers that my life would be filled with hope, that the sadness would be replaced by hope for the future.  It is my hope that all widows out there, young and old, might be surrounded this holiday season with hope and love.