Positive.  Usually, when I think of that word, I think of a positive attitude, a favorable response, a wholesome sureness of something good.  Not so much this time.

I could hardly wait to get my vaccine for COVID!  I turned 65 on March 5 of this year, and, at the time, only people 65+ were allowed to get the shots.  On March 2, I called and asked if I was close enough to 65 to get immunized, and they said yes!  So shots were March 3 and April 1 for me, being fully immunized on April 15.  What a relief!  No more masks (unless businesses required them, which I felt they had the right to do) and no fears of contracting the dreaded virus.

Fast forward to this past Tuesday evening.  I started getting a scratchy throat and developed a cough by the next morning.  Hmm.  But then, all I got was a nasty, nasty chest and head cold.  I know it’s been at least two and a half years since I’ve had a cold, because I haven’t been sick since Kenn died.  Anyway, it progressed as usual as I remembered my past nasty colds do.  No body aches, no fever, just coughing and blowing the nose.  I decided to get a COVID test on Friday ‘just in case’, fully expecting a negative result.  Two days later…..SURPRISE!!!!!  I got an email saying test showed positive results. 

I jumped into gear.  The first thing I did, was call the three friends I had meals with the previous three days to the scratchy throat.  I wanted them to be aware first.  Two of them were tested the same day and showed negative results.  I’m still working on the third person.

It’s funny, my initial thought wasn’t ‘what will this virus do to my heart?’ Or ‘I hope I don’t end up in a hospital!’  My first thoughts were ‘Please Lord…..don’t let me unknowingly have given this to someone else!’  Yes, I do hope my heart isn’t affected.  And, of course, I don’t want to end up in a hospital.  But I’m going on day 6 this morning since the scratchy throat, and I still just have that nasty cold.  

So here I go again….flying totally solo for the next couple of weeks.  Several people from my church and a sweet neighbor has offered to bring me anything I need.  I have absolutely no idea where I caught it or even how I caught it, but if it stays like it is right now, I can handle this!  I choose to believe that the vaccine is helping me have a milder case than I would have had if I hadn’t taken the shots.

Oh!  Do you believe in miracles???  I do and experienced one a few days ago!  There was a peak to a meteor shower Thursday night going into Friday morning.  I have tried to watch meteor showers in the past, but always miss them.  This time, a friend and I had discussed taking my boat out a little ways to get away from lights and watching to our hearts’ content.  But, as soon as the scratchy throat started, I isolated and, quite honestly, that was when I was my sickest.  I told my friend (on the phone) that I’m beginning to think God doesn’t want me to see a meteor shower!  Well, at 2:30 Friday morning, I was awakened by one of my bedroom smoke detectors chirping, telling me to replace the battery.  Ugh!!!  In my mind, I was thinking where are some ear plugs, I don’t FEEL like climbing up and changing that battery!  After the third or fourth chirp, I rolled on my back and said, ‘God, could You please stop the chirping?!  I’m not feeling so great!’  It never chirped again that morning.  But I did get a sense He was telling me to get up and go out on the deck.  I walked outside and within 5-10 minutes, I saw five shooting stars, one with a long, dramatic tail!  I couldn’t help smiling, and saying, ‘Thank You, God!!!’  

The smoke detector didn’t chirp again for two days, and then God let me change the battery, when I was feeling better.  I am glad I am vaccinated, I am glad I was tested, and I am SO thankful God gave me a sweet miracle!

Eight years ago, I was moving to a new home in a new city in a new state.  I was excited to find out what my future would hold!  I am still on my journey, trying new and wonderful things that life has to offer.  Yes, there are things that I wish were different, but God has a plan.  I just have to keep my heart open to His leading!

The beginning of January…..

I’m sitting on my rented condo’s 9th floor balcony, taking in the scenery.  I’ll be here in North Myrtle Beach for a month.  There’s nothing between me and the ocean but sand.  I hear the roar of the waves, and it looks like billions of twinkling, white, Christmas lights have been laid on the surface of the water.  I’m watching a father and son toss a football back and forth, a few women playing a game of volleyball without a net, and couples walking up and down the beach, some with a dog in tow.  My smart watch says it’s 48° outside, but on my protected balcony, I’m in jeans and a T shirt, as it feels like it’s at least in the 70°’s.

I am alone.  Almost all of the time, I’m alone, especially since the pandemic hit.  I’ve come to this place to learn to deal with this aloneness.  And yes, as a believer, I know I am never truly alone.  God is always with me, of that I’m sure.  But often, I still feel lonely for human companionship.  

I’ve come a long way, with the help of God, friends, and family, since that awful day in 2019 when Kenn left this earth.  But I still think I have some more work to do.  I’ve found an online counselor/coach that specifically helps widows move on with their lives.  She has a 6 month program that has several zoom meetings a week, as well as monthly workbooks that were mailed.  It’s a pretty intense course, which I like.  Before I joined, I ran some of her tools I know she uses by my son, Ryan, as he works in behavior therapy.  He said it’s a lot of cognitive behavior therapy which he thinks will help me.  I guess time will tell, but I am hopeful. 

Apparently, you can learn to be alone but not lonely.  I remember seeing Terri Irwin, Steve Irwin’s widow, on a talk show.  She said, “I’m lonely for Steve, but I don’t live a lonely life.”  However, she has her kids nearby and working with her.  Every single widow or widower I know, either has children and/or grandchildren nearby or a job.  My kids live in other states and I am retired.  So truly, it’s up to me to find fulfillment within myself.  

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I have been in the course for a month now.  It’s a real eye opener.  I’ve come to realize that, as much as I love and am so intent on being kind to all people, I’m not always that loving and kind to me.  The saying ‘you are your own worst critic’ is coming to bite me!  

I am a work in progress, as I guess we all are.  Bring on year nine!

I love Facebook!  And I hate Facebook!  

I love seeing pictures of my family and friend’s children and grandchildren!  I love seeing their pets as I love animals.  I love seeing beautiful nature pictures.  I love seeing funny videos, or poignant videos.  I love reading about how God has moved in people’s lives.  I love seeing who needs special prayers.  And I try to always stop right at that moment and pray for them. I’ve moved quite a bit over my life. I love reconnecting with old friends and staying in touch with new friends. 

I hate the hate that is spewed on Facebook.  I hate when people profess Christ in their lives in one post, and the very next post, call someone a ‘libtard’ for being politically liberal or a ‘pile of @#$*’ for being politically conservative.  (Yes, I’ve seen both.) I hate posts or videos that make fun of a group of people.  I hate videos or pictures that show cruelty. Especially child or animal cruelty.  

Then there are the memories that pop up. That’s a toss up—I love most of them but some are quite painful as I’ve been on the site for a long time. 

The last time I thought of getting off Facebook entirely was four years ago.  This year, I actually deleted my Facebook app. Then my niece asked if I saw her baby’s cute pictures and I couldn’t resist getting back on!  

I wish I could just scroll over the posts I find offensive, but it’s kinda like a train wreck—I can’t look away!  I guess for the time being, I’ll just continue my love/hate affair.  But I do wonder what will be the proverbial straw. If I suddenly disappear from Facebook, it will be because my camel’s back has been broken.

When I was a child, I asked a lot of questions.  I mean a LOT of questions.  Always!  Usually, my parents patiently answered them.  Sometimes, they delayed.  I remember once, when I was probably six or seven years old, we loaded up the car to head to a visitation and funeral.  I remember distinctly sitting in the middle of the backseat of our blue Ford sedan, the hump under my feet, with my sister, Gayle, and brother, Barry, on either side.  (I most likely had to sit in the ‘hump seat’ because I was the youngest.). As we pulled into the funeral home parking lot, I remember my mother saying, “Belinda, if you won’t ask any questions while we are in there, I promise I will answer all of them after we leave.” Well that got my brain to buzzing!  I knew we were about to enter a query filled environment!  I don’t remember all the things I needed to ask about, but I remember my curiosity was quite piqued!  I sat down near a beloved great aunt, who everyone called Doll, and asked one tiny little question.  She answered me very kindly.  I remember looking to see where Momma was—she was far enough away—then I let ‘er rip!!!  I asked and asked and, bless Doll’s heart, she sat there and patiently answered every one of my questions.  I loved Doll!

Fast forward to my grown up life.  My information seeking nature didn’t fly too well raising two boys.  However, my oldest, Jonathan, would absolutely spill his guts without me opening my mouth if he could catch me at, oh, say 2 AM.  I would sit and listen and nod and try to stay awake, reveling in our ‘talk’.  Then, when he would finish, he would pause, look at me, and say, “How do you do that?!  You just got me to tell you everything!”  I replied, “I just have to stay awake long enough!”

Seven years ago today, I met my beloved Kenn for the first time at an Olive Garden in Bowling Green, Kentucky.  We had talked, texted, and emailed for probably 30+ hours beforehand.  And boy howdy, did I ask him questions!  The day before we met, he texted me, saying, “Believe it or not, I’m a pretty quiet and private guy.  I can honestly say that you already know more about me than anyone else in the world!”

I am so thankful to God that He let me meet Kenn.  And I’m thankful Kenn didn’t mind me and my questions!

One year ago, my heart broke in a million pieces.  One year.  How can it be?!  Wasn’t it just a month ago that Kenn died???  This has been a tough year.  People always said you never know what it’s like to lose your spouse until it happens to you.  And they were so right.  You THINK you know what it would be like.  But you don’t.  Life totally and completely changed at that moment, unlike any other change I had experienced before.

I have evolved over the year, though.  At the beginning, all I did was replay over and over my final days with him and then seeing his beautiful, lifeless body at the hospital. I now can think of so many sweet things about him.  He told me repeatedly, over our few years together, how happy he was with me and our life together.  And, while he adored his extended family, (and, since I loved him so, I was so happy he loved and spent time with them as much as possible) he told me often that his absolute favorite place to be was with me, just the two of us, at the place we both cherished—our home on Norris Lake.  He was funny, loving, goofy, and strong.  No matter where life takes me, I know I will miss and love him until the day I die.

The following is a letter I wrote for the pastor to read at his memorial.  I still thank God daily for my sweet Kenn.

Every morning for the past few years, when I wake up, I say ‘thank you, God, for letting me wake up, and thank you for my sweet Kenn’.

Kenn and I found each other on the heels of both of us experiencing life’s most difficult moments. After unexpectedly losing his wife, Kenn lost 45 lbs. in two months and was grieving himself to death. He adored Nancy. I know, without a doubt, he found me in survival mode. It didn’t take us long to know we truly enjoyed each other’s company, and, after 2+ years, we married. In the next three years and three months, we have rarely been apart. We often said to each other, ‘let’s not take one day for granted as we never know what the next day will bring’ and we didn’t. We have laughed and loved every single day. Kenn did everything ‘hard’-worked hard, slept hard, played hard, and loved hard. He was my rock and gave the very best hugs.

As most of you know, we met on Christian Mingle. Below are some saved letters he sent to me. The first one was the evening before we met in person.

Belinda,
By this time tomorrow, we will have met and gotten back home to our own pillows. No matter what the impact is after our first visit, I want you to know that you have been incredibly nice and special to me in ways I cant explain and don’t understand. If our relationship blossoms and grows, I will know that I could not have waited one more day to find you. If it falters and fades away, we will have to be at peace knowing that our Father in Heaven is protecting us as his children, and in his time, he will show us the way. I hope this is His time, and that it is His hand guiding us into a relationship that he planned when we could not know.
Kenn

This next one is after meeting at an Olive Garden in Bowling Green, KY.

Belinda,
I am so glad I met you and I am so looking forward to see what God has in store for us. I cant see clearly how this will all play out me in Cincy you in McMurphyville (Murfreesboro) but I can say, after spending the past two weeks talking and texting and emailing, and our incredible day in Bowling Green, that I want us to work out. I hope you are as ready as I am to be able to say that these past couple of weeks were the first days of the rest of our lives.
Kenn

Then, this last one was several months later, after meeting my sons and some of my dear friends who helped me through my roughest days.

Belinda, Thank you so much for a wonderful weekend. There was not a single thing that I would have rather done than be with you and meet your sons who are both special in their own way, but more important, special to you which makes them special to me. It was very nice to meet your friends and realize that God puts in place everything and everyone we need to help and comfort us as we navigate the paths of our lives. I am glad—so glad our paths have united and look forward to our continued walk side by side hand in hand. I love you and am so looking forward to Friday— you are in my every thought and in my prayers.
Kenn

I suppose I will never understand why God chose to take him at this point in our lives. We were so happy and so in love. I truly believe—and others have said so that knew us well—that we shared more joy and love in our short marriage than some people do in a lifetime. I can honestly say, even through the horrendous pain and heartbreak of this past week and a half, I wouldn’t trade one second that I had with him.

So I will continue to praise my God, and every morning, wake up and say, ‘Thank you for my sweet Kenn’.

Covid 19. Coronavirus.  Social distancing.   Isolation.    Loneliness.   Who would have ever guessed that, in our lifetime, we would have a time such as this.  The loneliness I have felt since Kenn died has been exacerbated during these past weeks.  I am thankful for my sweet McKennzie, who is a great distraction!

For the past several Sundays, I have ‘gone to church’ in my living room, as I’m sure, lots of people do.  This morning was no exception.  I chose two services to attend and prepared for them both.  The first one was led by Kenn’s Uncle Dean. They were only a few years apart in age, so they grew up more as friends, rather than uncle and nephew.  Dean is the minister of Hopedale Church of Christ in Ohio.  That service started at 10 AM, while the church I attend in LaFollette, First Baptist Church, started at 11 AM.  I knew the first service would have communion so I got that ready beforehand.  I got on Facebook, got comfy, and waited for the first service to begin.  Dean opened the service with the song, Holy, Holy, Holy.  Love that song, and, now that I’ve removed all carpet from the great room, the acoustics are fantastic!  So I began singing along enthusiastically!  And that’s when all ‘you know what’ broke loose.  My sweet puppy, who I love so much, decided it was time to attack.  I guess my singing made her think that a rowdy, roughhousing, play time was in order. She pounced on my face, my arms, my chest. I tried desperately to get her to calm down, and eventually she acquiesced.  So she jumped down, grabbed a plastic toy and LOUDLY played with it during the end of the song and opening prayer.  Next, she jumped back in my lap and went for my communion.  Luckily, I stopped her in time, but she did manage to grab the nose strip I had removed  (that allows me to breathe at night!).  So I retrieved that from her mouth and settled back in to listen to the sermon.  Within a few minutes, I looked up and there she was, carrying a pee pad across the room (unused yet, thankfully!) to her pile of toys so she could begin the process of shredding it.  Finally, she began to settle down and let me listen and partake in communion.  I hoped she would have a long nap during the second service.  But, at the beginning of it, she decided she needed one of my socks to go with her 100 toys.  So she grabbed my toes and started pulling.  I finally got my toes out of her mouth and just let her pull my sock off.  She pranced victoriously over to her pile with the sock, which shortly lost its appeal since I didn’t chase her down to get it.  Next, she found an electrical cord to chew on, and I immediately put a stop to that. I always picture that cat in the movie ‘Christmas Vacation’ when she grabs cords!  So she jumped back in my lap and decided the best place for her was across my shoulders.  I could live with that.

I love my church family and I miss them a lot.  McKennzie has given me yet another reason to love going to the actual building where we worship together on Sundays! Oh, she is now curled up angelically for a nice, long nap.  Sigh!!!!!