A depth of foreboding sadness has followed me this past month, unrelenting, strength absorbing, leaving me in constant lament when I am alone. I sleep to assuage the burdensome immobility that results. Formless in the void it has made within me, I have searched for words to capture it but none have come.

Is this grieving? Or am I in trouble of losing myself in such a series of unfortunate events? 

I can pinpoint no discernible trigger though for triggers, there are many…  There’s the breakage: truck batteries, flat tires, refrigerator, freezer, grill, A/C, friends and family…

And there’s the flooring project: new flooring installed after 20 years. My workers have been kind and skilled but the prep has been overwhelming nonetheless. 

Today, at last, as the flooring project came to its end, I began to get it.

I am simply desperate for Philip.

It seems so obvious now but my confusing emotions have muddled it all up.

I am strong and more than capable to supervise this project and all the others but the fact, I now realize, is that I don’t want to. 

What I want is Philip by my side. 

Now there’s a trigger I can pinpoint,

Anne

September 28, 2021

As the birds flew over her head on this sunny day,  Bella, my 4-month-old puppy, started chasing their shadows as if they were bunnies, ears flopping in delight, excitement in her bounce.

It seems I’m chasing shadows these days, as well, only there’s very little bounce in my steps.

Today there are the shadows of a broken refrigerator freezer and a car that needs a jump to add to an already burdensome list.

There’s always something more isn’t there? A series of unfortunate events casting shadows on our well laid plans. 

And there’s the shadow of Philip, as usual. 

One of his favorite days of the year went by without notice, for a week. Opening day of dove season: an event in the Braudt household. The day he would take his sons out of school every year. Highly anticipated, intricately planned, every year for 26 years and it passed by without even a glimmer of a thought until today…And it bothers me that I could be distracted so easily from what was so dear to him. 

The first year after a death is supposed to be the hardest because of all the firsts you do without him. I know that but nobody ever mentions the firsts that come and go without a thought. Those are proving to be insidiously more dangerous to my lengthening series of unfortunate events.

I’m tired. The weather with all it’s brilliance lays like a heavy blanket of oppression. 

Some days I just want to be a shadow myself, blotted out by the cloudy sky for the time it takes for the sun to shine again.

Thank God  for the delight of a puppy breaking through my funk, if only for a moment, to remind me that His grace is sufficient for me even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Anne

September 12, 2021

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. [1]

Psalms 91:1

“When the night is holding on to me,

God is holding on”

King of my Heart by Sarah and John Mark McMillan

So I’ve been in a funk lately, really missing Philip, sorrow bubbling up. The thing is just as I give in to the sorrow, I am reminded that life’s challenges don’t take a vacation when you’re grieving. 

Grief’s sorrow, Breast cancer close to home again, family hunting accidents… It’s kind of funny that I found a house long crack in the foundation of my house yesterday; a bit of a metaphor for my life these days don’t you think?

Fortunately, there is only a crack in my emotional foundation. My true Foundation tells me that when it seems close to more than I can bear, it’s probably true but it is NOT more than He can handle. Another metaphor perhaps because He is the handle I am holding on to… good thing is though, I don’t need to hold on to Jesus because He’s already holding on to me in His sure and powerful double grip.

Life’s challenges meet my Jesus.

Anne

September 6, 2021

There are times I fear I lose myself

I don’t know who I am

I get caught up in the struggle and the strain

With my back against a stonewall

My finger in the dam

Losing strength and going down again…

John Denver’s To the Wild Country

I long for a simpler life. I took a deep dive into obstacles and stymies today; losing strength and going down again.

One task that turned into five more impossibilities followed by another and another. It was too much. Stopped me in my tracks, ransacking my get up and go, which got up and went in a decisive finger pulling from the dam flurry.

It is strange what sets me off; that which I approached with confidence and vigor turned so quickly into disillusionment and seemingly insurmountable dread.

“I should have known” I find myself repeating as if anticipating it would make it less harsh. 

I guess my life is rather simple: The pain of loss is the gift that keeps on giving.

Anne

August, 28, 2021

“A ruined man and Tiger, the kitten. The same world held them both. The tragic capacity of the human race for going off course was a little balanced by the integrity of the animals who were always obedient to the law of their being.”

Scent of Water by E. Goudge

A 95° day with a westerly breeze bringing the fragrance of late summer and playfully wet dogs. The delicate hummingbirds dance beneath our tree in the distance while I, like an audience, sit in the comforting shade of my favorite grand mulberry tree, my bookended pups by my side, watching the show. 

Yet it is all somehow diminished by the return of melancholy, once again. It seems so incongruous on such a brilliant, pretty day but I imagine it is just that which will balance me out with its watering.

Anne

August 23, 2021

The overcast skies, the warmish breeze bringing the scent of water with its movement as my faithful dogs lie by the side of their blind woman. As I sit, I realize I am sort of a blind woman. I get entangled in the concerns of my day and their ties so easily bind me yet, I am not left there. I am gently gifted with the dawning of sight as I open myself and accept the goodness of God all around me.

Gratefully,

Anne
August 16, 2021

Hebrews 12:1-2

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

It is a lovely day for a picnic, I think, and my doggers heartily agree though they know not where I’m taking them. Outside, together, is all they have need to know. I have chosen a shady tree near the edge of the pond. It is a mosaic of gradient greens, dark to light fluttering sweetly. The breeze is cooling and the smell of the earthy water floats gently upon it. The sounds of a distant lawnmower and birdsong, and is it bugsong?, drift all about me surrounding me in nature’s afternoon dance.

I had hoped that the poppets would swim and join the dance as I enjoyed a soft start to my midday but they stay by my side as if I were a blind woman; wary and watching. The little one copies them in a moment of unusual stillness but is soon easily and abruptly lured away by a pair of dark feathered, imperceptibly, red-throated hummingbirds with the tiniest wings. They are so quick that Bella can only sense them. She jumps where they might be just as they whisk away out of her reach, their instinctual timing impeccable. 

When they return, out of sight of Bella but close enough to me I can almost touch them, it is then that I can’t believe what I see. I am treated to a glimpse of an astonishing passionate salmon-pink throat. It is only for a moment and the miniature bird flies off to a nearby branch to pose, I suppose. The brilliant color is hidden once again. Could it be a volitional greeting intended for a select audience only? I am unexpectedly delighted and lose myself in their frolic.

When I come round again, I become aware of the field of the Canadian geese who have chosen my pond this year. They spread out on the lawn off across from me, safely out of reach of my hunting dogs. They are magnificent and regal somehow. 

I’m reading one of my favorite books again and it has inspired me to sit and seek the watering of God. As the afternoon carries on, my shade becomes less and the temperature more, but my heart swells full with the watering. 

Running to the Father.

I picture you and I running. We are two little girls running toward the brilliant Sonrise, across a field of golden grain. We meet in the middle grabbing hands, twirling for a moment at the joy of meeting each other. We then continue our run toward the rising Son. As we come near, trembling from the dashing, smiling with excitement, we meet Jesus at the foot of the throne of our Father. He gathers us in His arms so delighted we have come. We feel the rush of His love deep in our chests as His mercy calls out our names. Just as we are, He pulls us in and, together, we fall into the grace pouring out from the very heart of our God, three in One.

Romans tells us that He is doing a great work in us through these struggles of ours. And not only that, He has given us the privilege of running together until we see His glory through it all. The privilege of locking arms as we run toward the Son. I’ll see you there every day until we see this through.

Loving you, Marijo, as you have loved me. 

Gratefully, Anne

August 10, 2021

See Run To The Father

By Matt Maher and Cody Carnes

As I lay upright on my hospital bed struggling to breathe the other night, I wondered if I might die. It was a curious thought devoid of any anxiety or dread. I was actually ok with it. And if I were going to die, I considered what I would want my last thoughts to be. I found that I was surrounded by gratitude and prayed through my list of cherished ones giving thanks for each one…

Then the air conditioning on my hospital floor stopped working. The temperature rose quickly. No overnight visitors were allowed and I was alone. I was too short of breath to get to the door and my fear stampeded into panic. I couldn’t breathe and cry at the same time and I became close to hysteria…my mind flying through options for relief. There were no thoughts of death then only a rocketing relief seeking intensity. I was on high alert with every fiber of my being.

The curious thing is though, that the panic actually opened my airways; that which I thought would be my complete undoing, was the thing that I needed most in that moment. 

After my breathing and the air conditioning were restored, I called my sister who read me the rest of the way into calm. 

I felt ridiculous and fragile but also grateful to be calmly grateful once again.

Anne

July 20, 2021

Hallelujah, Even Here
By Lydia Laird

Right now I feel a little overwhelmed
Right now I could really use some help
Right now I don’t feel like it is well with my soul
I’ve tried to find a way around the mess
I’ve prayed in faith that the night would end
Right here when I just can’t understand
I’ll lift my hands

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here

Somehow I bow and my heart gets free
Too far, too hard becomes so easy
I find peace here in surrendering
In letting go
Sometimes nothing left to give
Ooh, becomes the sweetest offering
And sometimes choosing just to sing
Is the thing that changes everything

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
Hallelujah, even here
~~
So I arrived in Albuquerque. Pam, a gracious Phoenix friend who spends her summers in Albuquerque, picked me up and brought me to the boys. My cousin, Shane, met me and connected me with a mechanic for the morning.
The car is drivable but only slowly and with limited distance. The brakes are definitely calling out for help with every stop.
As we settled into another hotel, I went looking for a Walmart to buy dog supplies.
The nearest one turned out to be the very one I used to go to with Philip, right next to his Highland High School.
As I found my way there and back, I passed every known bittersweet connection to him. I was tired and feeling sick and the flash flood of memories proved more difficult than I anticipated. I turned on the radio to the very beginning of a song I have never heard before: the song above. Through my tears, as if Lydia Laird were right there next to me, we lifted our hands and pointed at each memory…”Even there, even there… hallelujah, even over there.”

Over there, his favorIte New Mexican restaurant, I wondered where that was; and even there he bought me my first bicycle shorts, before we were even married; and there, we walked the Old Town square; and there, we danced at some random festival, and there at his beloved Lotaburger and brewery and …

Hallelujah, when the storm is relentless
Hallelujah, when the battle is endless
In the middle of the in between
In the middle of the questioning
Over every worry, every fear
Hallelujah, even here…

Feeling the Double Grip,
Anne
July 25, 2021

John 16:33 NIV
“I have told you these things,
so that in Me you may have peace.
In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart!
I have overcome the world.”
❤️‍🩹, Jesus.