Crying with a Stranger

"If your son doesn't get into our school, would you be homeschooling again next year?"

"No, I can't. My husband died."

Ugh, how I wish she had remembered who I was and what I said on my email. I could tell during our conversation - when she gently pointed out that most parents start applications in September - that she didn't remember that I was recently widowed.

But when I had to say it outloud, the tears came. Not just teary eyes. Crying tears, streaming down my face, holding in the sobs. Shoulders shaking as I sat in my car on a freezing cold January morning making this dreaded call while my son was in play therapy.

Why is he in play therapy? My husband died.

Why did I decide to stop homeschooling? My husband died.

What will I do if I can't get him into these schools? I don't know. My husband died.

Where am I going after my son is done with therapy? The grave yard. My husband died.

My husband died.

My husband died.

Feels like everything comes back to that these days.

I'm exhausted. My husband died.

Family is taking turns staying with me. My husband died.

I don't know how I'm going to do a 2 hour drive tomorrow to take my mom half way home and then drive back to this empty house. My husband died.

Friends say trust God! He has a plan! It will work out!

My husband died. So yes, I agree that God has a plan. But sometimes in his plans, your husband dies. I do trust God - I think? Or maybe its that I know I should and I agree that he has a plan. And I even believe his plan is ultimately best and will bring me what I ultimately need - Jesus now and Jesus later.

But do I think that God having a plan means that P will get into a school that is convenient, safe, kind, right, good, etc.?

Not necessarily.

Why?

My husband died.