The Widow's Might
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Welcome to my world, dear widow. I know you don’t want to be here. Its’ not your choice. I understand. I am one. We now have the title nobody wants. (I still will not mark ‘X’ in the ‘widow’ box.) But I can tell you today, with a bit of living behind me, that life can be good. Mine is, in fact it's GRAND. Walk with me a bit and let's explore the possible.
We are part of the fastest growing demographic in the United States. One million joins our ranks annually. We are noticed by new home builders and a lucrative niche for health and beauty products. We are invited to dinners by financial planners and surveyed by designers for home features that will convince us to sign on the dotted line.
In contrast, one pastor described us by saying we moved from the front row of church to the back row of church and then out the door. We moved from singing and serving to solitude and silent sobbing, and then on to find a place we belong.
Scripture says the character of a nation is shown by how it treats us, in fact the character of individuals and the church is shown by how it treats us.
Few can imagine the extent of the changes in our lives
We lose 75% of our friendship network when we become single again. 60% of us experience serious health issues in that first year. One third of us meet the criteria for clinical depression in the first month after our spouse’s death, and half of these remain clinically depressed a year later. Most experience financial decline.
If someone had described this scenario to me, I would have stated emphatically, “It can’t be so! In the community of believers we support each other. We walk together on the journey.” I look back on my own responses to women who became widows and realize how little I understood, how little I empathized, how seldom I walked beside them. Many, in fact, became invisible whether it was in ministry positions, small group participation, or social events. It appears that about half leave the church they attended with their spouse: some reconnect to a place that matches their needs.
If someone had quoted the friendship statistic, I would have thought, “That won’t be me.” With the network that surrounds Bob and me, I will never experience loss of that magnitude. Yet I did. Connections that are primarily through our husbands, change and departures, while appropriate are still painful to process.
Becoming a widow means nothing is the same. With Bob’s exit to heaven absolutely every iota of my existence has changed: my calendar, my check book, what’s in my frig, the wake-up alarm time, the thermostat, the traffic pattern in the bedroom, which restaurants I can enter, and yes, the look in my children’s’ eyes when they step in the door on holidays. My living ...
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