This is me. How did I get here?

thank you Sonya and Amy for making this photo possible

I have good hair. Not bragging, just stating a fact. I know it is true because my hairdresser tells me so. We talked about it again this morning when I got my hair trimmed. For years after we married I wore it long, mainly because Bill liked it that way. I still remember my surprise more than 15 years ago when he said, "If you want to cut it, go ahead, I don't mind." So I did. And liked it immensely. So did he. I kept it short, going to see Sonya about every six weeks. A week before Andrew and Bre got married in August of 2013 I got a trim so it would be newly but not freshly cut for the wedding. I had celebrated my 54th birthday in June, and in September, when it was time for another trim, I thought; "I am not getting any younger. Bill likes my hair long. The kids are all grown and gone. I have more time to care for it now. If I am ever going to wear it long again for him, now is the time." And I let it grow. When Bill died I had no reason to continue growing it out, but I had no reason or energy to make the decision and commitment required to keep it short. So I let it grow. And grow. I had two trims amounting to only a few inches off the ends until October of 2017 when I looked in the mirror and saw what I perceived as a scary old woman looking back at me. And wondered "how did I get here?". I called Sonya to make sure she was still cutting hair and made an appointment. I am glad I did. I'd be lying if I said it was easy, because it wasn't. Growing my hair out was one of the last things I had chosen to do out of love for Bill. Getting it cut was a weird acceptance of widowhood. 

I have posted this picture of Bill and I numerous times. It is one of my favorites. But, it made me cry this week when I saw it as my profile picture on a flyer advertising a Women's Retreat I am privileged to speak at in April. The potential title of my talk is "How Did I Get Here?"

Yesterday I texted my friend Amy to ask if she could take a picture of me today after my haircut to use for the Retreat information. 
Why? Because I am not the woman in this picture anymore. 

I was an emotional wreck all morning. Why? Because replacing the photo on the flyer was another acknowledgement of widowhood. And while I trust that God knows what He is doing, I still wonder sometimes, how did I get here?

As I sit here tonight writing this post, the emotional turmoil of this morning is long gone. How did I get here? Love. God's love poured out through friends today.

A haircut with a shampoo and style afterward from Sonya this morning and later in the day her braiding the ponytails she cut in October so I can donate them.

The photograph Amy came to my house to take and the time we shared talking about life together.

A visit with the Haynie's after I cleaned at church where I got to chat with each one, read aloud to them the first Sophia book I wrote, play a new game, and leave with two tangible gifts- a delicious brownie and beautiful flowers.

The message I got to stop by the office and see Anita-where she gave me a sweet note of encouragement and a new travel buddy.

I am especially thankful for the real, live travel buddies who have been by my side literally and figuratively as I practice living this new life. You, my dear family and friends are often the portals of God's lavish love. Without your love, prayers and support this would be a much harder road to travel.