Tag: Rachael’s Ramblings

Who Knew?

By Jeanie Stirling

I fixed myself a good dinner the other night. Earlier in the day I had been in a grocery store where I had seen the fresh, summer corn piled high. Thinking, oh, that looks good, I picked out one ear. When had I ever bought only one ear of corn?! Corn-on-the-cob had traditionally been something I served to a group or at the very least made for my family, yet there I was with one ear of corn in my cart.  

Dinner that evening was tasty and the corn was an ever so good addition. But I concluded that eating summer corn shouldn’t be done alone. It just seemed that there should be someone else there with buttery fingers, smiling, and saying “yum” along with me.  

It was an unexpected reminder of my loss, another surprising realization that widowhood continually impacts me in so many different ways, both large and small. We talk about the many secondary losses of widowhood but no one, to my knowledge, had ever mentioned eating corn-on-the-cob alone as one of them. Certainly, it could fall under several different categories: loss of best friend, loss of social interaction, loss of intimacy, loss of shared enjoyment, loss of humor . . . Few people, other than other widows, understand the extent of these secondary losses and how they can slap you in the face or creep up behind you in ways that are often surprising. I had no idea about the corn! 

I’m thankful that I could enjoy the corn and several days later, I bought another solitary ear. It was good but I did imagine that Al was sitting across from me with buttery fingers and a smile.  

Jeanie Stirling

“My dear friend, 

When grief presses you to the dust,

Worship there…”

-Charles Spurgeon

On a beautiful Colorado Sunday years ago, Larry mentioned to our pastor that he was having a desert experience. The pastor responded, “Oh, Larry, Jesus likes your company. He’s there, too.” That simple phrase gave him comfort.  

Fast forward about ten years from that conversation to today, two days before the date of our 58th wedding anniversary, the grief is pressing me into the dust. The anniversaries and birthdays haven’t been as difficult to face since Larry’s been gone. The hardest seem to be events like our first grandchild giving birth to our first great-grandchild, funerals of friends where congregations sang It Is Well With My Soul, our Crabb family hymn, the weddings of some of our favorite kiddos, still signing the cards Larry and Rachael, and unexpected health diagnoses and many doctors visits alone. But the big event is turning eighty years old without Larry.    

I’m a fixer and I wanted to figure out why grief is all of a sudden pressing me in the dust. I stewed for days when I should have been worshiping. Still stewing, I went to church and the passage for expository congregational worship was Psalm 46. The word selah (praise, pause) is used three times and the pastor had us pause and individually reflect on a question after each selah. The question posed after the second selah: 

How has God helped You? 

He then had us hang our arms by our sides to represent being still. I felt such calm and peace wash over me. In conclusion, he pointed out four “be stills” from Psalm 46.

1. Be still because of proven presence (God is in the midst; The Lord of hosts is with us)
2. Be still through judgment
3. Be still in the midst of chaos
4. Be still because of the promised peace

We grieve differently and I want a community that speaks truth to my thirsty soul. He has had a proven presence in my life and I can worship in the dust and be still. Stop stewing, Rachael,  

The Best is Yet to Come.

Becoming me without Larry,

Rachael  

“When I feel like I’ll never be able to pick up all of the broken pieces of my heart, it’s the other broken-hearted souls in my life who help me.  The ones who are busy picking up their own broken pieces.  What a beautiful thing that is – the love and empathy sent out into the world from hearts that are not even whole themselves.”   –Author Unknown 

The above quote was the opening to our first of a new monthly blog on the Larger Story website. Below is that blog from 17 months ago which featured a letter Jeanie and I found written by Larry’s friend, John Garrett, on Larry’s first birthday in heaven.  If you read the introduction to that first blog you’ll read that Jeanie (CA), John (IL) and I (NC) are still having chat dates every few months.  No, we haven’t met face to face, and don’t do zoom, but are picking up pieces of our hearts and discovering joy in relationships.  We still laugh, cry, tell stories, share life and pray.  Hoping this encourages you to join with others who are becoming themselves without their loved one.   

Becoming Me Without Larry, 

Rachael 

 … 

I experienced the truth of these words when I received a letter from John Garrett, a man who became a friend to Larry during his first year of graduate school.  As newlyweds during Larry’s second year, we were welcomed by John and his wife Sharon, along with others, into their church where we immediately became part of a wonderful family.

People from across the decades of our life sent me many kind, heartfelt, memory triggering, tear producing, touching notes following Larry’s homegoing.  But the letter from John that arrived on July 13th, Larry’s first birthday with Jesus, was particularly meaningful.  John, as a widower, knew what it was like to pick up the broken pieces of his heart.  I read the letter and handed it to Jeanie Stirling, who had come from California to spend some time with me.  Her first words after reading it were: “He gets it.  This needs to be shared.”

The seed for this blog post was planted.  John’s letter, shared here with his permission, is the introduction to “Rachael’s Ramblings” for the Larger Story.  But to add even more weight to the strength of John’s letter, here’s a little more of the story: After reading the letter and talking with Jeanie, I felt a strong prompting to call John and tell him how much his letter had meant to us.  That call with the three of us was forty minutes of laughter, tears, stories, more laughter, and more tears.  And another seed was planted – chat dates with John every few months.  Jeanie (in California), John (in Illinois), and I (in North Carolina) have been encouraged, blessed, and motivated to keep picking up the pieces of our hearts, discovering joy in the process.

Perhaps reading John’s letter [below] will give you more insight into what Jeanie and I, along with many others, have experienced with such a profound loss.  We’re hoping that this blog prompts you into action to live in the Larger Story that’s playing out all around us.  How might you make God look good by reaching out to someone who needs to be seen?  Until next time!

 

–John’s Letter–

Rachael,

You and your family have been on my mind a lot lately, and, since it’s near Larry’s birthday, I wanted to share some of my thoughts with you.  All of these “first” times without Larry by your side have to be very difficult for you.  I know they were for me.  I just wanted to run and hide, to just be alone when birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays came around.  It seemed like I was living in a black and white world, with no color, for so long.

I can pretty much imagine how difficult this new era of your life’s journey must be for you.  I know how hard it is to find yourself “alone” when it seems you’ve lived all your life being “half of ONE.”  It’s difficult to even want to go to bed when the one who was always beside you is not there anymore.  (Hugging a pillow is just not the same.)

Who do you say the everyday words of life to, like: “Hey honey, come look at this…Hi dear, how did your day go…Wow, you are so gorgeous (so handsome)…Honey, I have to run to the store, want to come with?…Hon, can you help me with this?…Wow, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me today…Babe, I’ve had a rough day, I really need a hug…Honey, I’m so proud of you…” and the list could go on and on.

Who do you sing to? Who do you say “I love you” to? Who do you say “I’m so glad I married you” to? Who do you hug and hold close and share all  your hopes and dreams and problems with?  Who do you laugh with?  Who do you share a lifetime of personal memories with? Who do you just hold hands with or share a kiss with?

I know that our Lord is always with us and never leaves us nor forsakes us, and we do find our peace and rest in Him.  But He also said, “It is not good for man to be alone.”  He knows that we were also made for “flesh and blood” relationships as well.  I have every confidence that you are well and strong in your faith and love for the Lord, but the journey does seem a little harder without our life-mate beside us.  Please know that you are continually in my prayers.  And know that I sure miss my friend.

I did watch both memorial services and was so impressed and thrilled in seeing Larry’s life story shared in such a meaningful way.  The Lord certainly gave the two of you a marvelous ministry together.  You have impacted people’s lives all over this world, including mine.  May God continue to bless you and use you for his glory in your ongoing ministry.

My love to all the family.

Trusting and resting in Him,

 John Garrett

A New Blog Column

Introduction by Rachael Crabb:

I’d like to introduce you to Jeanie Stirling who has been an encouragement to me. Jeanie is a  few years ahead of me on the widow path and has led the way for me as we have talked, cried,  and laughed together during these last months. Larry and I first met Al and Jeanie when they  were leading the Sunday school class we joined in Colorado. They also went through the  MABC program, were in a couples group with us, and over the years became good friends. The  friendship not only survived, but deepened as we all lived together for several months when  they came from Hungary for Al’s cancer treatments at the Denver VA.

Jeanie was with me when I received the letter from John that I shared with you last month. As  was said, the letter became the impetus for chat dates with John and this blog. Jeanie will be  contributing to the blog as we discuss grief and the process of what we are calling “becoming me, without you.” I’ll be discussing this new title next month. For now, here are some thoughts  from Jeanie….

Thoughts on Widowhood 

Amanda Held Opelt in an interview about her new book, A Hole in the World, said, “I do not  think we can say of grief, this too shall pass. There is no going back. A new landscape has  been carved by grief’s rushing waters. And if we are to survive, we must make a home in it,  however that might look.” She went on to say, “You will always carry the burden of grief with  you, but you do develop the strength to carry it. You do develop the skill set I think is required  to live a life of grief. And so to someone who’s in the thick of it, who’s really deep in the woods of it and can’t see a way out, I would say, be patient with yourself. You will develop the strength  to carry this.”

The moment Al took his last breath every single thing about my life changed. Many people  don’t understand the extent of the loss. But it’s huge. The primary, overwhelming loss of your  partner in life and best friend is followed by the many secondary losses that we as widows, in our unwanted new identity, experience. Secondary losses can include loss of a way of life,  purpose, identity, loss of friendships, community, intimacy, income, dreams for the future,  confidence, health, a shared memory of your life, laughter, faith . . . With little to no experience  with great loss, we have no choice but to navigate through these losses and in time find the  strength to move forward while honoring the life we had and honoring the man we loved in that  life. Does this mean we’ve completed the grieving process? No. Does this mean that happy  moments now are no longer tinged with bittersweetness? No. But in moving forward,  developing the skill set Amanda mentions, we open ourselves to new possibilities. We make new memories. We take the loss, the grief, and the woman we were before along with us and move forward with what I believe to be bigger hearts.

As you or others you know navigate these losses, remember to be patient. Patient with yourself. Patient with others. Patient with those who simply don’t get it. The title of Amanda’s  book says it well – there’s a hole in our world. It will always be there. We will never be the same.  But we can also become more than we ever imagined we could be.

About Jeanie Stirling

Al and Jeanie served in various ministries over the years that all had a focus on hospitality. They served 22 years overseas first with Cadence International in Germany and then with Ministry Essentials in Hungary. The Sunday School they led in Littleton became a real community that Larry refers to in his book, Connecting.

Jeanie continues in a ministry of hospitality opening her home to her local community for various activities and most recently leading adventure trips for widows to Switzerland and England. She realized the importance of continuing to travel and add adventure to her life when she walked 350 miles of the Camino de Santiago by herself to mark her 70th birthday and celebrate the life ahead of her.

“When I feel like I’ll never be able to pick up all of the broken pieces of my heart, it’s the other broken-hearted souls in my life who help me.  The ones who are busy picking up their own broken pieces.  What a beautiful thing that is – the love and empathy sent out into the world from hearts that are not even whole themselves.”   –Author Unknown

I experienced the truth of these words when I received a letter from John Garrett, a man who became a friend to Larry during his first year of graduate school.  As newlyweds during Larry’s second year, we were welcomed by John and his wife Sharon, along with others, into their church where we immediately became part of a wonderful family.

People from across the decades of our life sent me many kind, heartfelt, memory triggering, tear producing, touching notes following Larry’s homegoing.  But the letter from John that arrived on July 13th, Larry’s first birthday with Jesus, was particularly meaningful.  John, as a widower, knew what it was like to pick up the broken pieces of his heart.  I read the letter and handed it to Jeanie Stirling, who had come from California to spend some time with me.  Her first words after reading it were: “He gets it.  This needs to be shared.”

The seed for this blog post was planted.  John’s letter, shared here with his permission, is the introduction to “Rachael’s Ramblings” for the Larger Story.  But to add even more weight to the strength of John’s letter, here’s a little more of the story: After reading the letter and talking with Jeanie, I felt a strong prompting to call John and tell him how much his letter had meant to us.  That call with the three of us was forty minutes of laughter, tears, stories, more laughter, and more tears.  And another seed was planted – chat dates with John every few months.  Jeanie (in California), John (in Illinois), and I (in North Carolina) have been encouraged, blessed, and motivated to keep picking up the pieces of our hearts, discovering joy in the process.

Perhaps reading John’s letter [below] will give you more insight into what Jeanie and I, along with many others, have experienced with such a profound loss.  We’re hoping that this blog prompts you into action to live in the Larger Story that’s playing out all around us.  How might you make God look good by reaching out to someone who needs to be seen?  Until next time!

 

–John’s Letter–

Rachael,

You and your family have been on my mind a lot lately, and, since it’s near Larry’s birthday, I wanted to share some of my thoughts with you.  All of these “first” times without Larry by your side have to be very difficult for you.  I know they were for me.  I just wanted to run and hide, to just be alone when birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays came around.  It seemed like I was living in a black and white world, with no color, for so long.

I can pretty much imagine how difficult this new era of your life’s journey must be for you.  I know how hard it is to find yourself “alone” when it seems you’ve lived all your life being “half of ONE.”  It’s difficult to even want to go to bed when the one who was always beside you is not there anymore.  (Hugging a pillow is just not the same.)

Who do you say the everyday words of life to, like: “Hey honey, come look at this…Hi dear, how did your day go…Wow, you are so gorgeous (so handsome)…Honey, I have to run to the store, want to come with?…Hon, can you help me with this?…Wow, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me today…Babe, I’ve had a rough day, I really need a hug…Honey, I’m so proud of you…” and the list could go on and on.

Who do you sing to? Who do you say “I love you” to? Who do you say “I’m so glad I married you” to? Who do you hug and hold close and share all  your hopes and dreams and problems with?  Who do you laugh with?  Who do you share a lifetime of personal memories with? Who do you just hold hands with or share a kiss with?

I know that our Lord is always with us and never leaves us nor forsakes us, and we do find our peace and rest in Him.  But He also said, “It is not good for man to be alone.”  He knows that we were also made for “flesh and blood” relationships as well.  I have every confidence that you are well and strong in your faith and love for the Lord, but the journey does seem a little harder without our life-mate beside us.  Please know that you are continually in my prayers.  And know that I sure miss my friend.

I did watch both memorial services and was so impressed and thrilled in seeing Larry’s life story shared in such a meaningful way.  The Lord certainly gave the two of you a marvelous ministry together.  You have impacted people’s lives all over this world, including mine.  May God continue to bless you and use you for his glory in your ongoing ministry.

My love to all the family.

Trusting and resting in Him,

 John Garrett