An Obstacle Course of Faith

The sudden loss of my fifty-four year old husband in 2000 devastated me. His death forced me to take a deeper look at my life and my faith. The following piece is about rediscovering my faith and finding meaning in life again.

In the 1950s, I grew up in a Christian family where lutefisk dinners and potlucks with hot dishes and endless desserts were typical church social events. As much as I loved my Lutheran Sunday school, I envied my friend, Janice’s Catholic life. I loved the rituals of her church with all the kneeling, praying and flickering candles. I would have traded my “Tiny Tears” doll for her fancy communion dress and veil.

Standing by my bedside every night, my mother nurtured my spiritual life as she recited the Lord’s Prayer. My faith made a steady climb until 1965 when I entered the University of Minnesota. During those psychedelic years fraternity parties, football games and study breaks at local hangouts became higher priorities than my weekly church attendance.

In 1972 when I said “I do” in front of God, family and friends, I figured I was finally back on track. Wrong. When my husband, John, died suddenly in 2000, the path crumbled out from beneath me, and I gave up on the whole God thing— at least for a while.

Years later, thinking I’d give the faith thing one more shot, I joined Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church a few miles from my house. For the first time in my life I participated in a women’s Bible study group and served on a “Habitat for Humanity” team hammering nails with a group of guys. I must confess, my motives weren’t totally holy. Spending so much time alone and not having any luck meeting “dates” at grocery stores, I thought maybe a direct line to God at church would help.

My spiritual journey is still more of an obstacle course than a smooth path to enlightenment, so this fall, I decided to sign up for a women’s faith event, “Quenched? If Not, What’s Missing?” The presenter, Suzie Umbel, sings with the church band at Saturday night services, so I figured if nothing else I’d enjoy the music.

(Presenter Suzie Umbel)

Throughout the morning, Suzie shared scripture readings, life experiences, humor and songs that inspired us to take a deeper look into our faith. When she sang, Breathe in Me, I felt God’s spirit filing the room. The small group discussions not only revealed other women’s doubts and challenges in their Christian lives, but also their personal joys and sorrows assuring me I wasn’t alone. We shared our thoughts on how to go deeper in our faith with prayer, studying God’s word and making time for daily reflection.

At the end of the session, with raindrops splashing on the church windows, I realized I had left my umbrella at home. Luckily, Karen, a young woman who also had been widowed, offered to give me a ride to my car.

Before we said goodbye I gave her a copy of my story, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels, and she gave me a copy her CD, little bit of faith, that she recorded after the death of her thirty-eight year old husband. Realizing others had experienced losses in their lives, motivated me to continue on my spiritual obstacle course. Connecting with others and a "little bit of faith" helps!

(Ruth Nasseff, Mary Jacks, Kathy Wagenknecht and Diane Dettmann)

Diane Dettmann's memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels, available in paperback and ebook on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003FHMAUS

Information on Karen Pavlicin's "little bit of faith" at http://www.karenpavlicin.com

Suzie Umbel: "Suzsong Ministries"

The Lone Oak

The Lone Oak

Sometimes the silence of grief is deafening, the loneliness painful. You spend time crying and wishing the loved one back, but they never return. After my loving husband died suddenly at the age of fifty-four, people often said, “Be happy you had thirty years together.” Which was probably true, but I wish I had an eternity more. Two years after the sudden death of my husband, I spent time writing daily in my notebooks. In the following piece I share my insights and reflections of loss as I sit on my deck alone and observe the world around me.

The white caps appear and disappear as the cobalt river flows south in the distance. Beyond the deck, the lone oak tree wiggles and blows in the November breeze. It’s brown, dry leaves still attached and a few bare twigs stick out like a snowman’s arms.

The tree was hearty enough to survive and grow in the rock on the bluff. Over the seasons, it fought for sunshine and rain among the invasive buckthorn. I almost gave up on it once and came close to cutting it down, but gave it more time. It amazed me how it struggled to live. So I left it there, alone among the buckthorn and brush. It continued to survive in spite of the challenges of severe weather and the invasive vegetation around it.

After Olaf, a local handy man, leveled the brush surrounding the lone oak it grew into a strong, sturdy tree. I often wonder if the young oak was happier and safer when the buckthorn surrounded it with its thorn filled branches.

In grief and loss, like the solitary oak, sometimes we find ourselves buried under the dense brush of life where light doesn’t shine. Like the widow left alone, the oak depends on its supple trunk and deep roots to help it survive. The battered oak reminds me that to survive in grief we need to be kind to ourselves, stay anchored in our roots, and stay alert to God’s gift of time. The light and love will return to our lives again.

Thinking of all of you who are facing the loss of a spouse and sending you hope and comfort. My book, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels, shares my widow journey and the process of rebuilding my life. Available in e-book and paperback at Barnes & Noblehttp://bn.com/w/twenty-eight-snow-angels/1114818659?ean=2940016268804 and Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/author/dianedettmann