Putting The Lord In The Driver's Seat

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I have struggled with fear issues for all my life, but thanks to my personal relationship with the Lord, I am able to say that I have overcome a few of my fears with some of those anxiety-filled situations. Much of my angst has centered around driving in some form. Perhaps it has something to do with being a very late bloomer and not learning how to drive until I was in my mid-thirties. I still avoid freeway driving at all costs, and stick to rural main and back roads as much as possible. My world is relatively small and I have always been okay with that. Whenever I am with family or friends, I am almost always a passenger.

My anxiety was greatly increased, when about eight years ago, I had a sudden attack of some kind, while Buck and I sat in church one January Sunday morning. Out of the blue, the banners in the front of the sanctuary startled whirling like a Ferris wheel and I knew I needed to get out of there immediately because I was overwhelmed with nausea. I told Buck I felt sick and when I tried to stand to walk out, my legs wouldn't work. Buck and my friend Harry had to almost carry me out. I will spare you the remaining embarrassing details. I didn't understand what was happening to me and it was frightening! I had never experienced vertigo before and it lasted for a day and a half. Stillness and keeping my eyes closed were my only saving grace.

The events of that day set Buck and I on a lengthy, dead-end journey in pursuit of an explanation of what might have happened to me. It was disturbing because it left me with extreme fatigue and some vision and balance issues. It appeared that there was some residual damage that affected my vision perceptually and caused me to feel loopy, as I call it, somewhat like being mildly intoxicated. I'm certain that it often appeared that I walked like I was drunken (still happens when I'm tired). The vision and balance issues never went away and all the doctor's visits and tests were never able to come up with anything conclusive. These symptoms made me feel very vulnerable and fearful and I didn't drive again for fourteen months. It was horrible and I hated being so dependent, but, just the thought of driving filled me with terror!

Thankfully, I had a very wise husband, who knew I was going to need a push to get me back behind the wheel again. One day, Buck was going to take me grocery shopping and went out to the car before me. When I got outside, Buck was in the passenger seat and told me I was driving. I flat out refused, since we lived on a very narrow, windy, country road. I promised when we got to the main road with a wide berm, I would get in the driver's seat. I was nervous after not having driven for so long, but I knew I had to try. I'm so glad that Buck had the confidence in me that I didn't have in myself.

Crossing the Conowingo Dam has always been a little scary for me and uncomfortable for many of us, if we're honest. If you have traveled on it, you are familiar with the narrow part, where you often have to share the road with a tractor trailer. With a towering wall on one side and a guard rail lining the other lane, it is easy for a timid driver to feel claustrophobic! After the onset of my mysterious illness, my brain told me that there was not room enough for two cars, let alone a car and a large truck in that narrow passage. I have prayed my way through that spot many times, as I braced myself for the sound of screeching metal. Crossing the dam the first time after I started driving again was a huge step of faith for me! "Lord, You know how fearful I am right now, but I'm counting on You to do this for me, because I can't do this in my own strength!" Trusting God was the only way I could have the confidence I needed to overcome my fear. Even now, an involuntary, audible groan will escape my lips (similar to a sound I might make if someone punched me in my stomach) if I encounter a large vehicle on that stretch of roadway. I am always thankful and relieved when that part of my trip is behind me.

I still have many areas of fear in my life that I need to learn to trust God with, but He has been so faithful when I ask for His help to overcome those places of vulnerability. I am learning that it is okay to trust God and still feel afraid. I like to think He is happy that I am a late bloomer instead of never blossoming at all! I find great peace in knowing He is always with me and I never travel alone; a true Tandem Journey, by every definition!

Humor Is Healing

I am still learning new things as I familiarize myself with the Blogger website. I just found out that I can't edit a post that I published in the past, without removing it from my published archive. While searching for a sample of my writing to submit to the art's director at my church, for the next copy of our in-house publication,  I realized that I inadvertently removed it from my published work. The only way to get it back in the archive is to publish it again. So this is a re-posting from an October entry.  Please forgive me, but it is one of my favorite posts. I hope you think it is worth reading again, and like me, it may make you smile too!
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It is difficult to believe that my sweetheart has been gone for over two years already! I never dreamed I would find myself in these circumstances at this age. Buck was a strapping, healthy, 60 year old outdoors man until the early hours of that life-changing New Year's Day, 2009. If you are not familiar with our story, you can read more in the About Me column to the left.

Our faith carried us through those dark days and continues to sustain me, as I adjust to life as a widow. Keeping a journal has been very therapeutic for me and I share my story in the hopes that it will be helpful to others going through challenging circumstances in general, not just adapting to life without a spouse.

In looking back over the months since I have been a widow, I have thought about the things that have brought healing to my broken heart. In addition to the important role my family and friends have played; humor quickly comes to mind. Most often it is delivered through my grandchildren, namely through my five year old grandson, Colin.

After returning from Buck's funeral in West Virginia, I stayed with my daughter, Sarah, and her family for two and a half weeks. Just being surrounded by all that love and the distractions provided by my family and grandchildren were very helpful.  My then, 13 year old grandson, Justin, had given up his bedroom for my use during my stay there.  Upon waking one morning, I made my way to the bedroom door, just as Sarah was also coming out of her bedroom with five month old Kyrstin in her arms. As our eyes met, my knees buckled and Sarah raced to support me, and guided me back to Justin's bed. I was weeping, in the throes of deep grief, and Sarah and my grandchildren all climbed in bed with me to comfort me. Colin, who was three years old then, studied my display of emotion and didn't understand why Nana was crying. In his little mind, he assumed I must not be feeling well and urgently recommended: " NANA, IF YOU HAVE TO THROW UP, RUN TO THE BATHROOM!"

Colin had his face painted at the circus and was being his silly, animated self for the camera!

                            

Needless to say, the tears of grief immediately turned to tears of laughter and we all laughed till our stomachs hurt. Even now: two years later, if I am struggling emotionally, Sarah, Bob, (my son-in-law), or Justin might get the laughter ball rolling again by simply saying: NANA! in that same urgent tone and the abundant laughter and smiles return.

Colin is often our comic relief, even without trying. He is just a funny character, whose personality is just what I need at that moment. He loves to dress up in costumes and often makes up his own, showing up in ridiculous combinations of everyday clothes .  I am inspired to giggle just by his addition of a pair of yellow rubber gloves that I gave him during one of my visits. He wore them to bed one night recently. Watching him, decked out in his jammies and my gloves as we read a bedtime story, attacks my funny bone every time! Justin is also an expert at making Nana laugh. Sometimes, he has no mercy, but I love every minute!

                      Colin in his Handy Manny costume,
              complete with tools, hard hat and work gloves!

Two versions of one of my favorite verses from the Bible states: A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones (NIV). The Message, a paraphrasing translation of the Bible says: A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone tired. (Proverbs 17:22) Although I have experienced much sadness since my sweetheart was called home, I am so very thankful for the accumulative gift of laughter and the many, abundant sources of joy that God has placed in my life!

A Time To Hold On And A Time To Let Go

As the long-awaited spring approached, I sensed a new heaviness in my heart. I was and continue to be very sensitive emotionally, especially since April 21st came and went. That was the day that marked the second anniversary of my sweetheart's being called to his eternal home.

I still don't understand why the calendar has such an impact, but there is no denying the intensity that comes with the significant days! This fact rang true once again, as the calendar was a witness to the wrapping up of another year (without the love of my life) and the beginning a new one.

I have reflected on my commitment, to focus on the present instead of the past. I felt very strongly that  the Lord was encouraging me to do just that, in January, as we slipped into the new year. For the most part, I think that has been the case, but the memories are so bitter-sweet when they arrive. Thankfully, the teary emotions are not so devastating as before and I seem to recover much quicker now.

However, that April 21st anniversary also marked the beginning of some new goals and they have set into motion a very painful season, as I have purposed to start making decisions about Buck's belongings. Facing this has inspired new triggers and memories and has been literally exhausting! 

I found that it was true (for me personally, anyway) that the second year was indeed harder than the first. But, this gives me hope that perhaps the year ahead won't be as painful, since I have faced many "firsts and triggers" along the way. Just the same, I fully expect this season to be emotion packed as I go through Buck's personal things.

I started by removing Buck's clothing from his dresser and closet. I was limp at that point, and to be honest, just moving his belongings from one location to another, but, I did accomplish my goal and for that I was thankful! Then, I went through Buck's grooming tools a few days later, and decided that I had to take a break from the intensity of pursuing my goals. I still can't bear the thought of removing his hair from his hair brush, or disposing of his brush! I just can't do it! Someone else will have to deal with it someday, when they are going through this process with my belongings. I needed time to regroup, so, I dove into some long-neglected yard work. That proved to be very refreshing and was just what I needed to face the next phase of reorganizing my home.

Now, I realize the importance of pacing myself and doing some rewarding tasks along the way! I'm thankful that there is no time-line for this project and I know this will probably take a long time. I'm okay with that, and I understand that there is no right or wrong way to go about this, but, I know I will feel better when this part of my grief journey is behind me. I'm glad that I can say, I'm already seeing progress as I'm taking multiple baby steps toward my goals. God has been so faithful to continually show me how to do this: one step (even if it's a tiny one), one day at a time!

Ecclesiastes 3 (The Message ~ Paraphrased Version of the Bible)

There's a Right Time for Everything

 ¹ There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:
 ⁶  ... A right time to hold on and another to let go...

It's the right time to start letting go.

A little of my Haiku poetry to sum it up:

Cherishing the past

Holding on and letting go

God is helping me

Fight The Good Fight

                                                                              

During our eleven and a half years of marriage, Buck and I were active in the Emmaus Community. Emmaus is sponsored by the United Methodist Church and provides a Thursday evening through Sunday afternoon discipleship retreat several times each year. It is a life-changing experience for many!

In October of last year, I was asked if I would consider providing the banner, depicting the theme of the weekend for the men's spring retreat. I accepted the invitation and with lots of prayer and searching of scripture, I sensed the plan and design that God wanted for the group of men in attendance. He inspired me during the two months that I invested in it's creation. What follows is a copy of the letter that I sent with the banner, to share my story and the symbolism behind all the components that made up the design. I wanted to be assured that these men, and now my readers, would understand what I felt God wanted me to communicate through my artwork.
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Gentleman,
I wanted to let you know that I had the privilege of providing the banner for your weekend. Some of you may know my late husband, Buck Barnhouse. I am certain, had he not been called home almost two years ago, he would have been enjoying your weekend along with you! When your weekend director asked me if I would consider doing your banner, my response was honest: "If you let me know about your theme and your vision, I will pray about it and let you know what the Lord has to say about this. But, to be honest, my first thought is 'no way; no thank you'! But I will pray and see what the Lord has in mind." Two hours later, your Director responded:"My theme is 'Fight the Good Fight' from 1 Tim 6:11-12."

Your weekend theme is more than meaningful to me. I will try to share why. As I sat facing Buck's casket at his grave site in West Virginia, his brother, Jimmy, stooped down behind me and told me that while Buck was in the hospital, Jimmy had a dream. He said Buck came to him and said, "I have fought the good fight." What I now refer to as Buck's verse goes on to say: "I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me that day-and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for His appearing." 2 Tim 7-8. Buck loved the Lord with all his heart and "fought the good fight" in a way that made me so proud and thankful that God choose me to be his wife! There was no doubt in my mind that the Lord wanted me to design and paint your banner.

As I prayed and searched the scriptures for inspiration, I sensed the Lord's leading me to include two critically important components of a Christian's armor: his Shield of Faith and his Sword, symbolizing the Word of God. No medieval soldier in his right mind would go into battle without his weapon (sword) and a way to protect himself (shield). It is no different today. Also, solders don't go into battle alone. The Lord wants us to depend on Him, as well as, to look to our Christ-follower friends and family members to support us with prayer and accountability.

As Christian's, we need to be alert to our enemy's tactics, especially in the personal battlefields of our minds! My prayer for you this weekend is that the Lord will communicate His unconditional love for each of you and that you will have a clearer understanding of what 'Fighting The Good Fight' is supposed to look like in your life as you journey on with the Lord, knowing that He has your back! He promised that He would never leave or forsake you.

I felt inspired to use strong, bold colors to symbolize the confidence you can have in the Lord's Faithfulness to provide all that you need to live a godly, manly life. The purple in the sky is meant to represent the challenges, trials and struggles we all face on a daily basis...the darkness that often tries to consume us. Notice the Light of the SON SHINE breaking through the darkness and the Shield of Faith protecting the modern soldier as he humbles himself and asks for God's help to be strong, courageous and ALL God created him to be! The sword and shield are depicted in glittering gold to remind you of the priceless value and unmeasurable worth these invaluable tools have, as you utilize them in your daily lives.

I was very personally blessed in the process of creating this gift for you! I hope you are blessed by what the Lord and I put together and that it will come to mind in the future, when you need some encouragement to "Fight The Good Fight"!
God bless you gentleman,
Renee' Barnhouse
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Sometime in the future, I would like to write more about some of the things I learned through the process of designing and completing this artwork. It was an interesting and challenging process. Most importantly, I sensed that God wanted me to know, that now, I needed to be intentional to "Fight The  Good Fight"! I know the Lord will equip me to do just that, as I move forward on this: my "Tandem Journey"!

A Man And His Truck ~ A Painful Visual Reminder

I am sometimes caught off guard by the power of the visual! That has been the case once again, as I encountered an unexpected situation this week. I recently had the title for my husband's pick-up truck transferred into my step-daughter's name, so that she could benefit from the sale of her daddy's vehicle. For the past two years, the truck has resided alongside the camper, where we lived for eight months while we built our new home. Buck's truck was hidden from my view all that time. I would only see it whenever I was returning home from an outing. Under those circumstances, seeing the truck never bothered me because I would be quickly distracted with getting inside the garage and into my home.

I was away from home this weekend and returned to find Buck's truck in my driveway. Jessi found a buyer for the truck, but it isn't drivable due to a brake-line leak and will need to be towed. They parked it in the driveway for easier access when they come to tow it to Baltimore. I knew of the pending transaction and assumed the truck would be gone when I returned to my home. I was totally unprepared for the flood of emotion that arrived as I approached my driveway and found the powerful reminder of my sweetheart.

Just a few days ago, I was inside Buck's truck, cleaning out any remaining personal belongings and even took pictures for Jessi to show her prospective buyer.  I had no problem with it then, as I had faced the initial pain of cleaning out his truck about a month after he was called home. That experience was excruciating for me, but was beneficial in that it helped me to pour out my grief! I really thought I had fully dealt with my feelings in that area, but it is very evident that more healing is necessary in facing the association of my man and his truck. I hate that my emotions can be so powerfully affected by an object. The feeling of powerlessness and helplessness can be overwhelming as I begin to crumble emotionally each time I catch a glimpse of his much-loved emerald green Silverado. This afternoon, I closed my blinds so I didn't have to look at it any more. 

It  is amazing to me that the location could make that much of an impact. Out of sight; out of mind was working so well for all this time. Seeing Buck's truck in the driveway is extra hard to face, because that is where I thought it would be in my present and my future, with my precious man behind the steering wheel, smiling with his ornery grin and signing I love you through the windshield as he often did. And of course there are many memories connected to his truck, namely, our day-long first date, when he drove me to Skyline Drive; the day we fell in love. Then eight months later, when he proposed in that same magical, mountainous setting and the transmission went up as he put the truck into reverse immediately following our mountaintop experience!

I can't help but think of all the times we loaded up the truck and towed our dinosaur camper to our favorite campgrounds in Pennsylvania, New Hampshire and Vermont. We made so many wonderful memories on those adventure filled vacations!

The cargo was always changing as it carried everything from building supplies to prepare our previous home for the real estate market, to tons of wood pellets to heat our home and also for the cabin where my daughter and grandson lived. I can visualize the bed of the truck filled with power tools, ladders and tool boxes, equipping Buck and church family friends for the many mission trips that he so willingly poured himself into during unpaid vacation time. The truck was also used for many trips to West Virginia, filled with his hunting gear, making it possible to indulge in two of his favorite pastimes: visiting his family and the pursuit of deer meat and wild turkey. Almost always, he would return with a cooler full of venison for our freezer and an occasional turkey as well. Buck excelled in his marksmanship skills and his hunting strategies and did a great job of providing for his mom and ourselves. Such a trip was the last one he made, returning home just three weeks before his heart attack that forever changed our lives.

As hard as the past few days have been, I am thankful to relive these memories before Buck's truck finds a new home, but I will be glad when it isn't here any longer to torture me. Although I still often feel heartbroken, I know I have traveled a long way on this grief journey and the days of heartache are growing farther apart and have less intensity. God has taught me so much during these many months and I sense His Presence so often in my quiet times of personal devotion as well as times of corporate worship. I don't understand how it is possible, but I can honestly say that I have Peace in spite of the pain. I guess that's why they call it the Peace that transcends all understanding in one of my favorite verses. Such Grace He pours out! Thank You Lord!

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians  4: 6-7

More Memories From the Cookstove Days

My life with Buck had been so busy and full, especially the three years prior to moving to our new property, as we prepared to sell and planned our new home, that these days had been tucked away, unvisited for a very long time. My cookstove days that I shared about in my last post, led to memories that went farther back and reminded me about the birth of our daughter, Sarah.

Her birthplace was the little cabin in the woods, with a large creek in the front yard, where Sarah’s dad and I lived in Whiteford, Md. Being part of the hippie generation, we were thrilled to hear about a woman obstetrician, who still believed in delivering babies at home. When Sarah was ready to make her debut, Dr. Gordon came to visit in the early afternoon, left to deliver another baby over an hour’s worth of traveling time away, and returned at midnight to deliver Sarah around 1AM. After twenty-four hours of labor and doing the natural-childbirth breathing techniques I had practiced; all went like clock-work for her arrival and I was so thankful to have the opportunity to deliver Sarah naturally, into the familiar setting of home. What a precious gift and blessing she has been to our lives!!!

 jsphotocreations.com

 

Unfortunately, this is not a picture of Sarah. We didn't have a camera back then. As I remember, Sarah spent her first night in a blanket-lined, wicker, laundry basket, because we didn't have her bassinet in our possession yet. Such a sweet memory! I kept the handles from the well-used basket for sentimental reasons, for many years, until they literally disintegrated! Such a sappy mommy! Sarah was not the only one who had a make-shift bed, as her hippie parents had to trade in the waterbed for a regular boxspring and mattress...doctor's orders. During one of my prenatal, doctor appointments, I mentioned that we had a waterbed. Dr. Gordon shook her head as she quickly responded: " I can't deliver a moving target. The waterbed will have to go!" We didn't think of it, but she knew full well that each contraction would bring a wave of motion, making her job impossible! I was not saddened to see it go. In true hippie fashion, our new bedding sat atop four cinder blocks. How resourceful we were...ha! You know your a hippie when...!

We didn’t have a telephone back then, so early the next afternoon, I slipped into my long denim skirt, tee shirt and sandals, bundled Sarah, walked across our foot-bridge and we went to a neighbors to share the news with our parents. My mom didn’t believe me, thinking there was no way I would be up and getting in touch so soon. Bill had to get on the phone to convince his mother-in-law that indeed, it was true! Her granddaughter was really here!

Those homesteading days were some of the most productive days of my life. How I would love to have a fraction of that energy and motivation now! Although my life is certainly not what I thought it would be, having faced many ups and downs as we all do; it is still so very good, as I face my future with the Lord at my side each step of the way. Missing my Bofren and adjusting to widowhood has been painful and challenging ; but, my here and now is filled with more moments of blessings and beauty than I could possibly count, thanks to all the special people God has brought into my life! Just the same, many precious memories took place in those days and live happily in the archive of my heart! It was wonderful to revisit! Thanks for the inspiration, Tess!

Memories From My Pioneer Days

In my last post, I shared about my 24-hour power outage story and my journal entry addressed to my late husband, Buck. When my power was restored the next day, I mentioned my little adventure on my Facebook status, and my friend, Tess, commented that she remembered me being a pioneer woman when we first met many years ago.

Her comment made me think about those days when I was in my twenties and thirties and a flood of memories took me down a long-neglected memory lane. According to the dictionary, I didn't fit into a pioneer profile in any way. But, I think it would be fair to say that Sarah's dad and I explored the road less traveled with our back to the basics, self-sufficient lifestyle, as did many of our peers. We heated our little cabin in the woods with firewood from our property, raised pigs for our neighbors and ourselves and enjoyed fresh, brown eggs from our Rhode Island Red hens. I'll save my memories about the beautiful, but equally mean rooster, named Harold!

We grew a gigantic garden, and I canned tomatoes in every possible form: whole, chopped, tomato sauce and juice. I even made ketchup to use up some of the bazillion tomatoes that we couldn't give away. That's what happens when you combine good manure-rich soil with newbie gardener's ignorance and plant 100 tomato plants! I dreamed (well...had nightmares would probably be more accurate) about bushel baskets full of the beauties . Bill and I did learn our lesson and were more reasonable in our future gardening efforts after that first bumper crop.

I remember the many days of picking, cleaning and snapping green beans and canning them in mason jars in my canning pressure cooker.  I also recall making homemade sauerkraut on several occasions. We were blessed to have an orchard near by, where we picked peaches and apples when they were in season. It was our custom to pick about forty pounds of their sour cherries when they were available in early summer and I would pit (more dreams) and freeze them for future use. I loved picking blackberries and wineberries from wild, roadside bushes and using them to make jams and homemade pies with the lard from our pigs. There was nothing better than a made-from-scratch fruit pie in late winter!

I recall participating in a street festival in Bel Air, Md. in the seventies with some of our neighbors. I spent days making all kinds of baked goods and actually selling my homemade pies for two dollars each! I wonder what one would bring today? Making our bread was another endeavor I enjoyed. My bread-baking day would yield six loaves. This was my routine for a season, until Sarah and her dad decided they only liked my whole wheat bread on baking day and bread from the freezer didn't appeal to their taste buds.

I was thrilled to find this photo of a Home Comfort stove that was identical to the one I cherished many years ago. Notice the tank for heating water on the side.

Website for this image

Tess had a vivid memory about coming to visit and seeing my wood-burning, cook-stove in my country kitchen. She also erroneously thought I had baked the cake in the cook-stove that I served to them that day. Nothing could have been farther from the truth, as I never even came close to mastering the art of baking in that stove. My brother, John, also has a memory connected to that stove and will never let me forget the "stone pizza" I tried to feed him that was prepared in that oven. No Tess, clearly, I had baked that cake in my electric oven! I'm so glad you shared your memory about that day. It was good to think and reminisce about those days again.

I sincerely hope this post didn't come across as boastful in any way. It was my attempt to share several verbal snapshots from my past. I hope you enjoyed walking down my memory lane along with me.