What we didn’t realize during our *wilderness years* — that season of time from Hubby’s job loss through cancer — was this: The paring down and simplifying of our lives was for a larger purpose, for lighter travel over mountain trails and barren places.
Photo credit: Gary Johnson
Back in February, I wrote a blog about why you should tell your story. Today, April 27, happens to be National Tell A Story Day. But what if your story didn’t turn out the way you wanted?
Photo credit: Pixabay
Before Hubby and I were a couple, we wrote a years’ worth of letters back and forth between Denver and Europe. When I packed to return to America, I left his letters behind. Weight limits on luggage.
I would give anything to have those letters back.
Pay attention to what doors are opening for you on this new journey that maybe you didn’t want to take but you’re there nevertheless and so why not make something beautiful and purposeful out of the loss and the sorrow — that journey.
Photo credit: Gary Johnson
My niece recently posted this to my Facebook page (my niece knows me well):
She was an adventurer at heart; but oh how she loved drinking this tea from this mug in this chair. Oh how she loved home.
Photo credit: Pixabay
Standing at my window yesterday, I noticed a tiny snowflake that landed on the deck railing. It captured my imagination. How it must have made its journey down from a cloud and gave no thought to being alone, but obediently plopped down on the deck railing — doing what it was designed to do.
This morning, underneath all this mass, there are those first brave snow flakes, holding up their end of the bargain.
25th day of spring in central Oregon
Shortly after Hubby died, I read Chasing Daylight: How My Forthcoming Death Transformed My Life by Eugene O’Kelly. O’Kelly was diagnosed with cancer and given maybe three months to live. His book is about what he wanted to accomplish and how he determined to live those remaining 100 days.
April 6 is National Walking Day—of course, we don’t need to wait until then to begin walking—and so in honor of this monumental occasion, I just finished walking the 3-mile loop of the Deschutes River trail. As I did yesterday. And will do for part of Friday date night. And am scheduled to do Saturday morning with a friend.
Photo credit: Pixabay
If you’ve lost something of incredible value — your health, a way of life, someone who is precious beyond words — then it is important to grieve. To take your time and grieve in your own way.
At some point, though, it will be to your advantage and good health to set aside your deep sorrow and take a stab at living again. And while you’re learning to live again, see if you don’t become more attractive in the process.
It’s New Jersey’s spring break and I’m vacationing somewhere in the United States with Son-In-Law Josh, Daughter Summer and the six grands.
Hint: 1) The tallest brick lighthouse structure in the U.S. is in the vicinity; 2) We are in a house on stilts; and 3) There are quite possibly more seashells on our back patio in plastic buckets than on the entire beach at this point.
Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
