The following excerpt is from My Journal – October 4th, 2018 –
The valley of Achor. That’s where I feel like I have been living since Mike was taken from me. I have tried to leave it behind so many times since then. Clamoring with all of my strength, praying to God to give me strength from Him, and waiting, waiting, waiting for hope to ever climb out of this valley.
For people who are not familiar with this valley, the name of Achor means nothing to them. Some people are familiar with the name “Achor” and can give a definition of it and some even can give the story of the poor man who was associated with it and was forever banished there with all those he loved and all things he loved.
His fault was in taking something that was not his and it was something that God had strictly forbidden His people to do. Achan chose to sin, and his penalty was death in the Valley of Achor. So his name and the name of the valley are forever connected in the minds of those who know the story in Joshua 7. Many people can describe how he got there and why he was there.
Not very many people can describe what it’s like to really live there. To be a resident there and look over at the rest of the world with its mountains of glory, and then sink lower into this valley.
Achan chose sin and paid the penalty.
So what’s that got to do with me and other widows?
Widows did not choose widowhood and yet we feel like we are living in this terrible valley, too.
Are we destined to just die here? We were removed from society and the life we loved by no fault of our own. We just watch life happen all around us as Sovereign God chose to let us become widows. We are tossed out in so many ways and our life is totally different than it used to be. A widow is a penalized victim of circumstances that were no fault of her own. Everything around her is affected because of her spouse’s death. Everyone connected to her is affected because she lost him. She didn’t lose just him, but her life with him.
So, the Valley of Achor is like where widows reside.
Some people feel that divorced women are no different than widows, when in fact, we are so different. We share some things, but our loss is so different and people respond to us differently. There is often more mercy and help shown to a divorcee than to a widow. People think that we can just move on, putting the past behind us. But, it just stays with us and we move with it inside of us.
A divorce represents the loss of a marriage. Life is forever changed but life is still there.
A death represents the loss of a life. Finalized, but not signed for, not agreed to, not consulted about, or not being a part of the decision process to choose it.
The Valley of Achor represented being cast aside, removal, and discarding everything attached to Achan. That’s how I feel in regard to my life with Mike. It is gone. Yes, I still have our children and grandchildren and our “stuff.” But, it is all marred and affected by the loss of Mike.
The good is always tainted with the bad. The happy is always touched with the sad. The laughter is always threatened with the crying. The peace is always disturbed with the emptiness.
I live here. No one can understand what it’s like to live in this valley of Achor, until they become a resident here. No one wants to stay here or even to die here. Everyone wants to leave.
As I read again, today, of Achan and this valley, I was struck by the feeling of despair and anguish that he must have felt, not just only for himself, but for all those connected to him, who were so innocent of the guiltiness that he chose.
I know that I didn’t sin to be living here in Achor, but widows are cast aside and discarded much like they have sinned or something, like we have a debt we have to pay, on a purchase that we didn’t want to buy, that was forced into our lives whether we wanted it or not! We never chose this and yet we must accept this new life, ostracized from the “couple world” that we were happily living in. We are continually facing losses of things that people don’t even know or associate with our loss of our spouse.
Some are obvious to people, like an empty chair beside us wherever we go. But, there are so many losses that people don’t really see. The losses of calls, invites, conversation, and texts from our “old friends” that must assume that all the rest of our “old friends” are still here for us. When, in fact, most of them are gone.
The loss of self confidence in ourselves as women who are still fun, interesting, and as lovable as we ever were with our mate. When every positive thing your mate says or tells you, or does for you, is gone, it affects how we start to perceive ourselves. Even the strongest of widows who still “look” the same as they used to look still ache inside from loss of affirmation that they are as good as they used to be before the death of the one they loved.
It takes a strong woman to put on some makeup and to try to look good on a day that she knows she’s probably not going to see anyone else, or hear from anyone else. It’s easy to lose hope that anyone really cares what happens to us. It’s easy to think that the world will go on spinning even if we stopped.
And it would. But,
I believe that God holds me and cares for me, and that I can trust Him. I can cling to Him for hope when I don’t feel anything happening right now that’s hopeful in any way. Yes, I have lots of joys, but I can’t see anything different in my future or any really definite way to positively affect my future right now. I don’t have the strength or wisdom right now to do it, to even take the first step toward it.
We yearn to feel “normal” again. To be included without second thoughts, again. To be missed, again. To be asked, again. To be accepted without missing our old spouse, again. To be loved for being just myself, and not because I was part of my old team. We look for doors of hope for people who want to know us and be with us, and to love us because of who we are now, not because of who we used to be.
Some people can’t accept the new me. They miss the old me. I miss her, too. But, she died with Mike. I can’t bring her back, no matter how hard I try. She left with him. I’m trying to get to know the person who’s left living here as a widow in this Valley of Achor.
It’s totally different for me and I know it’s totally different for my old friends. They are learning to know the new me that’s left here, and they still miss Mike and the team we were.
It’s hard sometimes not to feel that they miss him being here more than they miss me while I’m still living here. I know they’d not admit that, but that’s how widows often feel, especially when their mate was the extroverted, outgoing one.
People miss his controlling, outgoing presence that drew them. I was usually there, helping and supporting him, encouraging him, and enabling him to do what he did and to successfully have so much that he had in his life, especially our family. He left and I’m still here. But, it’s like I died, too.
So, I yearn for the door of hope in this Valley. I’ve not been able to even write about my life here now for months. My last journal entry was June 18th, 2018. About 3 and 1/2 months ago.
I’ve written my feelings a few times on some closed Facebook pages for widows like myself to commiserate with. I guess “misery loves company” fits that type of writing. But it did make me feel better to voice my emotions about widowhood and to feel that they really understood and validated my feelings, without condemning or ostracizing me.
I have withdrawn from posting on Social Media on pretty much everything except commenting on my kids’ posts, or close friends’ posts, or saying “Happy Birthday.”
I guess I have stopped showing emotion on so many topics of everyday life, because they all seem so unimportant or irrelevant to the emotions I’ve been facing, living in this valley.
I still care about everything I used to care about. But, not in the same way. I look at it all through the “after death” lens that makes every other concern seem very petty when compared to it!
So when I have started to post about something like politics, religion, family, parenting, or kids, I usually just come back to the fact that I don’t want people to think that particular post or issue is uppermost in my mind and heart, now.
It’s like grief and loss have ruled out everything in my life having top priority in my mind now. There are momentary lapses, when I have posted pictures of my times with my family. I guess I’ve wanted people to know that I’m still trying to live life with the joy still around me.
My world often seems so very small. People in the normal world often seem to be growing, enlarging, and being enriched with opportunities, events, travel, and relationships.
But, my widow world has kind of frozen me in place except for occasional heart melting times with my kids and grandkids. So I’ve watched what I posted because I don’t want to portray that my life is all really good now or that it is all really bad now. It’s neither, now. I’m living in a totally different way of life and place in life, than I’ve ever lived in before.
I know it could be much worse. But, I also know it has been much better in the past. And, is it too much, or too greedy, for me to even wish or pray, for hope that it will be good again, someday?
Is it wrong to pray for the door of hope to open? Is it showing contempt in the face of God to believe that there is something better for me than the life I am living now? Is that how people creep to the edge of insanity an inch at a time, believing there’s more, somewhere?
I pray for contentment now, peace now, hope now, faith now, wisdom now, mercy now for me to others, and mercy now for others to me.
Give me love, Jesus, love, that forgives, expects the best, forgets, and moves on.
Help me to not build my life permanently in this Valley of Achor. Help me to rest and be content while I’m here, but please, please give me a door of hope that comes from living here.
Thank you, God for sustaining me while I live here, now. Give me love for others who are also here. Help us all to depend on you to be with us in each situation that we face here. Thank you for holding us every moment.
Give me hope to give to others. That’s one reason I haven’t been able to publicly write. I want to extend hope, but I have been held bondage with feelings of hopelessness that this new life will get better. How can I portray hope when I can’t see or feel anything that says life will be better and normal again?
I know “Now, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 13:1
But, our hope has to come from believing in God’s strength and faithfulness. We can’t base our hope on our own strength, wisdom, or abilities. I’m too slow, weak, and worn down to feel any hope in anything I can do.
Everything good in me comes from God and His presence in my life. He, alone, can take my weaknesses, and turn them into strengths. In fact, He uses my weaknesses as much, if not more, than my strengths!
But, I just read today that there are certain joys that can only come to us through sorrow. I’m going to keep searching for those joys.
