February 12, 2020
I have never been so aware of life changes as I have been since my husband passed. It has been a time of reflection upon what was and an opening to the possibilities of the future. A future without him.
I recently made a major decision that was the most difficult yet. It was the decision to stay in our home. It took some time to weigh and measure it. In the beginning I looked at it as, which would be less painful. Leaving this house where Brian and I had spent the last 36 years or staying and being reminded of the memories of what once was but could no longer be.
When Brian first passed, I was so raw. It felt as though my heart had been fileted open and the very air upon it was nearly unbearable. Just 38 days later my house, our home, was burglarized and ransacked. My already fileted heart now felt the full impact of his leaving. I remember asking Father Mother God, “Am I to be broken Father? No my child, Mother whispered gently. Broken open my love, not broken. That is much different indeed. Being broken open is a glorious happening.”
Then one day, I received a wonderful sign. On January 30th, Will and I were dragging some trash to the street while doing some renovations to the bathroom. As we bumped our way out, the storm door banging against our load, I made a comment to him that I had never liked the storm doors on the house. Within about 10 minutes he had removed them both. It felt so good. There was such a change in the energy. Opening the door and just stepping out without the hinderance of the storm felt so freeing.
That very evening, I heard that small soft voice say, “The storm is over. You can settle now. You can rest easy.” I knew immediately that there was divine inspiration behind my removing the storm doors earlier in the day. The symbolism was so powerful. It was that event that really cemented my decision not to sell this house but to stay and rebuild my life.
Just one week later, on February 6th I received a phone call from Detective Karst at the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. He was calling to let me know that the man who burglarized my house had been arrested and was in jail. I knew it! I knew that he would be caught.
Just days before the burglary I had said a prayer asking Creator to please help the police catch whoever was causing the mischief in our neighborhood. Then wham! My house was broken into! My first thought was, I guess I should have been more specific in my asking but then quickly said well, why not me? I was the one asking for the help. Why shouldn’t I be the catalyst for this prayer to be answered.
When walking into my house that day, the contents of my life strewn about without care or concern, I was at first angry. Angry that someone had gone through Brian’s desk. Touched his things. How dare they, I thought. How dare they violate his memory. As I reached the bedroom where we had cared for him during his illness I was taken aback. The contents of the dressers and closet covered the floor but there in the doorway laid my prayer bundle. It had been carried from my bureau in the master bedroom and was still bound. Its gold satin cord tied securely, just as I had left it. A vision flashed through my mind. It was of hands holding the bundle when suddenly the hands flew up as though being burned by the bundle and it dropped to the floor. I heard that usually small voice, booming now. “No, not that. Here no further!” I knew that I had been given a wonderful gift. That small prayer bundle, that was so sacred to me had been protected. The burglar was not allowed to take it and in that moment I felt so loved by God and my angels. My prayer was being answered but a line had been drawn and I had been spared the sadness of losing my precious prayer bundle.
As my eyes once again began scanning the destruction and my mind tried to grasp exactly what I was seeing, there it was! Just two feet from where my prayer bundle laid a blood- filled latex glove. We got him, I thought excitedly! DNA, we’ve got DNA! As I looked more carefully, I noticed that one of the drawers that now stood open contained one black Isotoner glove. I looked about and did not see the right glove. Just the day before, I had placed that pair of gloves in that bureau. Now the right glove was gone. Well, it didn’t take a detective to surmise that the thief cut his hand on the glass as he came through the door and then found my glove as he searched the room. Although I can only speculate, I can just image God plucking it from the pocket he probably stuffed it into and dropping it just there by my prayer bundle.
Well that was a very long and difficult night. Megan called to let me know that Trey wanted me to stay in his room that night. He had actually given Will very specific instructions that under no circumstances was I to be allowed to stay at the house that night. He was cleaning his room top to bottom and washing his linens so that everything would be perfect for me. When Will and I arrived at their house in the wee hours of the morning, there was Trey asleep on the sofa. I slipped quietly into his bedroom to find a fluffy fresh bed and the scent of essential oils in the air. A bottle of water was next to the bed and a stack of movies on the dresser that he thought I might enjoy. He had even set up a charging station for any devices I may have with me. But even more wonderful than all of that was the powerful feeling of his love, his kindness and his compassion. And as I laid my weary body down on his bed, his love filled my fileted heart like a soothing balm and I slipped into a restful sleep.