“The Lord examines the righteous, but the wicked, those who love violence, he hates with a passion.”  Psalm 11:5 NIV

One would think, after nearly five-and-a-half years as a widow, I wouldn’t still be gaining insights into the nature of grief. After all, I’ve written nearly 2,000 daily essays…many dealing with the subjects of death and dying. I’ve passed many milestones. I’ve fallen in love again. Yet, it never ceases to amaze me when I get to peel back another layer and learn something about myself through the lens of loss.

Before Mr. Virgo died, I never really thought about death…not on the daily anyway. I had certainly dealt with loss. My beloved grandma, my wonderful mom, and even my estranged father. Still, those losses didn’t put death in my sights. Since his death, however, the prospect of losing someone so close to me again has caused me a great deal of anxiety and a fair amount of fear. Early on, there were so many times when I felt I was just one crisis from losing it completely and my prayer was always, “Lord, please keep everyone safe. I can’t lose another one. I don’t have it in me.” I remember telling people I loved to be extra careful. Don’t get hurt. What I was really saying was, “Please, don’t die.” 

As I’ve told you often, I don’t watch TV…I catch my news online so I can pick and choose what I watch. I have noticed changes in the last six months or so. I can concentrate enough to read a book now. I can knit again. I can even go to the movies…something I’d only done once since Mr. Virgo died. Mr. FixIt and I went last week and it was wonderful. Things are changing. Things are healing. And, while I don’t make a regular diet of the news, I have watched the news on occasion lately.

It’s culture shock. After not watching TV for years, watching it is…visceral. Politics. Severe weather. Fires. Crime. It’s been a difficult summer in the world. Last week I was transfixed by the case of Chris Watts. While the facts of the case are abhorrent, my interest was from a psychological standpoint. I saw his interviews with the press. I watched his body language. I knew he was lying. And, I knew he was going to blame his wife for killing the girls and then he was going to say it was a crime of passion. It was like the script was written all over his face. Then, yesterday, they found the body of Mollie Tibbetts after a high profile search. Another layer of the onion of grief was pulled back to reveal a deep fear.

Being a grandmother, one cannot watch stories such as these without thinking of your grandchildren. I realized I had watched too much…dived too deep… when I spent the night clutching my pillow to my chest and begging God to protect my people. I felt riddled with anxiety. My granddaughters are adolescents…attractive, smart, gregarious. I want them to be invisible. I want them to walk around with a force field. I want them to stay in their rooms till they are forty. But, of course I don’t really. I want them to live their lives. I want them to be joyful. I want them to learn and have adventures and be strong women. I just want them to be safe.

I will back away from the television now. It causes me dis-ease. I cannot control the world. I can’t keep bad things from happening. I can’t hover over my children and grandchildren. But I can send out as much love and light into the world as I can. And I can encourage others to do the same. I can dish out heaping helpings of encouragement and positivity. With enough prayer and love and light, maybe we will see the change we so desperately hope for…we so desperately need. Walking strong in my faith, knowing who is really in control, soothes me. ?