Like a River in QUOTIDIEN

It was ugly! Tuesday, I left my security job and headed towards my director’s job – feeling anxious. We are set to close on the house at 9am, Friday morning – not that this is a problem. In fact, the sooner the better. But wait! I have to be out by Friday afternoon at 5:30pm. :deep breath:

The dumpster was loaded with no room for the junk my husband allowed someone to dump under the lean-to. Trash-bags filled with outdated clothing – and an assortment of military manuals that my husband read like a child devours Dr. Seuss – began coming out my ears. Oh, the services to turn off and/or forwarded to my new address. Meeting the landlord on Thursday morning to hand him a first-month/last-month/animal desposit check which will quite effectively empty my bank account.

I arrived at my job, recalling last week’s 3 page list that was only partially completed, with a newsletter deadline looming near, and was met with another 2 page list of ‘must haves’. I took a deep, cleansing breath – and my eyes welled up. The Good Doctor is not only my boss, but he’s a long-standing friend whom I respect with every fiber of my being, and yet, I looked him square in the eye and told him that my goal was to put the newsletter to bed, get his mail, and made address corrections to our 1500+ list. And before he could object, I added, “And next week, I will be printing out envelopes (3.5 hours at best), and inserts so that when the newsletters do come back from the printer, you can actually send them out – so be mindful of the list.”
He did nothing but raise his eyebrows and said, “In this area, you’re boss.” Between this and the house and the emptying of the garage and the throwing away of his clothes and the removal of my ring and the frightening prospect of moving forward as a single mother in a small space with a teenage girl and a full time job and a house to empty and a truck to rent and the crippling loneliness and the fear of the unknown – I was, for the second time since my husband passed, experiencing FULL ON despair. So I worked the newsletter. The Good Doctor had included an article about my husband and his spiritual journey, his dedication to the service of others – not for financial gain, but to fill a need. TGD is not given to flowery speech, and his writing reflects that…..but I knew the heart that lived behind the words, and I was moved. VERY moved. After playing around with margins to accommodate for the number of articles TGD thinks I miraculously manage to fit into our 4-page quarterly, I came away with dead space at the end which was too small to allow for larger font, and too large to leave blank. And then this thing happened. It’s a writer’s dream – when the fingers begin to move as if of their own accord – slow, but steady:

Quietly ...He drew near, after the passing of my husband, in a time when I thought nothing outside of pain and grief could ever exist, and became such a presence in my life that I can do naught but celebrate! Every day has revealed a new blessing, a new opportunity to witness, a new source of comfort, a sense of balance, and such an influx of love and encouragement, that I am filled to overflowing. ‘God has been—so very good to me!’ -MJ Gibson

Even as I typed that first word, my spirit quieted. This three sentence river washed over and through me, quenching the despair with truth! It was a balm. A reminder. A blessing.
Among the things I can be grateful for is that I have not been left to despair for very long for quite some time, now. At any rate, I'd not been invited to include an 'article', but I left it there - at the end of the newsletter. The review came back. "About that article, MJ.....I don't think...", and I was sure he was going to nix it. "...it doesn't belong at the end of the newsletter. I want it to follow David's article.

So the newsletter was put to bed - it is now up to the printer - and the phone rings. The guy who is picking up my husband's truck wants to know if he can take the metal out of the dumpster. Sure! Turns out, he filled an 18' flatbed and had to come back for more. There is now more room for the disposal of the lean-to junk. In addition, he wants to know how much for my Stihl Weed-trimmer. He left a check.

I was so encouraged that when I got home after my 12 hours of work, I didn't stop. I began packing almost immediately - clearing the spare bedroom, and my daughter's bedroom. She'd already clearned her bathroom. I cleared the kitchen last night. I have the front closet, my clothes, my closet and minimal work left in my own bathroom.

In addition:

A volunteer came forward to help move the large armoire and other heavy pieces of furniture for us Thursday. I was able to contact utilities and cable to switch service over - and I can finish the remainder of my packing with another 5 hour push.

Namaste