For Better or... What???

Grief changes you. No doubt about it. There is no way that you can't let it change you. But you can decide how it will change you. Especially in the loss of a spouse. Never before has "for better or worse" rung so true. 

During my first journey of grief I can recall sitting at a pizza place waiting for the order I called in 30 minutes earlier. They asked my name. They asked my phone number. Then they came back and told me it should be just about ten more minutes... What kind of pizza was it that I ordered? Everything in me wanted to say, "Really? Can't anything go right?" Here I was a couple of weeks out from losing that which was so precious to me and now I can't even get a pizza order? What did I have to do to get a break in this life? I sat in a chair and just glared at the empty pizza rack. Then it struck me. How does the displeasure of not getting my pizza order in a timely fashion compare to the gut wrenching pain of losing a child? It doesn't. It's petty. And thus there was my turning point. In the pizza restaurant, flour floating in the air, God came to me and made me adjust my priorities. From that point on my wife and I both made a point to say to ourselves, "This is not a life and death situation. Treat it as such."

It's not that I don't still get angry at the little injustices of life. I do. But just not as quickly. I still want my pizza on time. I still want people to admit that they have made a mistake rather than give me an excuse. I've always felt that there is a fine line between an excuse and a reason and I don't like excuses. But if they aren't life threatening then they aren't worth threatening someone's life! And maybe not even their job. 

During my second lap on grief's track I must confess it is a little more difficult to let some of the injustices go. It gets harder and harder to again keep from saying, "Really? Can't anything go right?" Or its sister quote, "How much more can life throw at me?" It's like I decided to throw all of life's crap right into a fan but didn't step out of the way as it flew back on me. But then I remind myself how blessed I am. I live in the greatest country in the world. I have the best parents and wonderful family and in-laws. I couldn't ask for a better group of friends. I have gotten so much more than I deserve. I got to spend most of my life with the most beautiful woman in the world and for 15 years of our life together we got to spend time with the best daughter anyone has ever had the honor of raising. 

I would be lying if I said that grief hasn't changed me. What I'm praying is, as my journey continues, that the changes are for the good. I promised my bride, "for better or worse." But that promise wasn't for her. That promise was for me. And it was a vow I intend to keep. For the honor of the most beautiful woman in the world.  

The Winner Takes It All

Isn't it amazing how certain events put things in perspective? For instance, I am writing this after watching the hometown team get humiliated by a team that is not that good. I have expectations for my team just as they do. My expectation is that they will win. Every time. From now on. I realize that those expectations are quite lofty, but aren't they the same expectations they put on themselves? 

Several years ago I attended a football game with my daughter. This was time together that we both enjoyed. She was not a great football fan, she was just a daddy fan and she enjoyed spending time with me as I did with her. This particular game also ended in a loss and I took the loss hard. It was a team we should've beaten. But, on the way out of the stadium my daughter took my hand and I realized I had been taking something for granted. Earlier that week a friend had lost her newborn child. As I walked away from the game I couldn't help but hear the Lord tell me, "It's just a game. Look at the hand you are holding. You still have your daughter." And I realized how silly it was for me to get worked up over a game. Up until that very moment my priorities had been misaligned. It all changed for me that day as I walked back to my car with tears in my eyes and my daughter's hand in mine. 

Fast forward a few years and I find myself walking to my truck from the same stadium after a loss. But this time the loss, while not enjoyable, was not devastating. Why? Because I know devastation when I see it. Now I don't get to walk back to the truck with my daughter's hand in mine. Nor do I get a hug from my wife. Instead I walk back with my brother beside me (but not holding my hand because that would just be too weird) and let the loss roll off my back. 

Some things don't go our way. And sometimes there isn't a darn thing we can do about it. My wife was always the neat one. She kept the house virtually spotless. I am no slob, but I also am not as particular as she was. But some things bother me. Like light switches for example. When a switch is up the light is on. When it is down the light is off. But when there is a three-way switch then if both the switches are in the same position then the light is off. If they are in opposite positions the light is on. But when they are both up and the light is off then my universe is off tilt. I don't know why I am this way. (Probably the way I am wired!) for this reason I will go across the room to flip the switch so it's in the correct position according to the status of the light. And when there is a row of switches and I am leaving the room then all the switches must be in the down position. One switch out of sequence throws OCD into overload. But, in my kitchen I have three switches controlling the light. This means that one switch must always be up and the other two down for the light to be off... Perhaps you should read that last line again. ONE OF THE SWITCHES MUST BE UP.  Up means on. Down means off. But, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I have to learn to live with it. I have to learn that not everything is going to go my way. And I've learned the lesson the hard way. 

I don't get to go home from ball games with my daughter. I don't get to come home to my wife in the evening and get a hug. And you know what, it really hurts. But there isn't a darn thing I can do about it. Life just isn't fair sometimes. And, if you find yourself upset over your team's loss, the fact that your pizza took longer than 30 minutes, or that the store is out of what you went there to get, thank the Lord for the blessings you do have and remember, a late pizza isn't life and death.