A WIDOWS CONFESSIONS

A WIDOWS CONFESSIONS:

(Pulling out the drafts that have been dormant for a bit.)

I find myself reflecting on the incredible journey with Mr. Schoof, together – shy of 49 years of marriage, a tapestry woven with threads of joy, challenges, and unwavering faith.

It wasn't always easy. We both knew ,that the path was not a smooth, predictable one. There were many rocky stretches, moments of frustration, and times when our perspectives diverged dramatically. But through it all, was the constant of our shared faith and the support of our church community.

I remember so clearly our first Sunday in 1976 – his initiative, and God's guiding hand in bringing us to worship together at GCC.

He chose me, a stubborn half German woman and gentle English lady, to be his helper, and I am eternally grateful.

Living with a husband shaped me, challenged me, and ultimately made me a better person.

While there had been times when we seemed to operate on different wavelengths, the foundation of our relationship remained steadfast.

We aged together, embraced the unexpected, and navigated the changes life threw our way.

Oh, yes, he tolerated my quirks – my blogging, my photography, my sometimes overwhelming enthusiasm – with grace and patience.

He put up with my passions, He supported my need to express myself creatively through writing and capturing memories with my camera. Those were outlets vital to my well-being, helping me process life's complexities and find peace.

We shared profound moments of joy and sorrow. The overwhelming happiness of expecting our first child, followed by the heartbreaking loss in the next one, remains etched in my memory. The arrival of our other children, the years of laughter and growth, and the pride of watching our son mature and then snatched from earth at age 33, had all contributed to the richness of our lives.

I know that I wasn’t always the easiest person to live with. My strong opinions, my tendency to focus on what bothers me, and my occasional failure to express my gratitude were things I deeply regret. I did not always show him the appreciation he deserved, often taking our love and shared life for granted. There were times I was critical, focused on shortcomings, or treated marriage like a transactional exchange.

The truth is, I was not the same twenty-something he fell in love with. While some of my youthful exuberance remains, I've changed. I’ve slowed down, I experienced increased anxiety, and become a little more rigid. But through it all, his love and unwavering support had been a lifeline.

He was there through countless ER visits and urgent care trips, always steadfast.

Marriage is a paradoxical blend of beautiful moments and messy realities. It's 24/7, demanding and rewarding in equal measure. But the joy many times shared, far outweighed the challenges.

To the man I married, and the man he became, I offered my heartfelt love and gratitude. We faced future challenges together, and I’m eternally thankful for his unwavering love and commitment to me.

I continue to reflect on the journey Mr. Schoof and I took (yes, he would lovingly call me Mrs. Scoof) together, a wave of complex emotions washes over me. Almost Forty-nine years. That’s a staggering number, a testament to the enduring, if often perplexing, nature of love.

Exodus 4:11 speaks of God's power, and I’ve often pondered His hand in our relationship – the tapestry woven from our distinct personalities, our shared history, and the undeniable bond that remained until God took him home.

Remember Reinhold Niebuhr's prayer? Seeking that balance between acceptance and change had been our constant companion. I’ve watched him wear many hats throughout the years, carrying burdens I can only imagine. We tested the limits of our love, sometimes faltering, sometimes triumphing, always learning.

Our journey lacked the glossy perfection portrayed on social media; our "happy couple" facade, if ever present, was a carefully constructed illusion.

Our love was unique, a blend of the best and worst of times, mirroring Dickens' vivid portrayal in *A Tale of Two Cities*. It's a journey that had at times been a season of darkness, at times, a spring of hope. We were far from perfect. I’ve been selfish, impatient, unkind;

I wasn't always the steadfast wife I aspired to be. And yet, within this imperfect union lay a love that endures, a commitment that transcends our flaws.

Yes, there were moments of frustration, far too many misunderstandings born of our differing natures, of unique wiring, of my sometimes overwhelming need to "fix" what isn't broken.

God made my dear hubby, and I’ve learned, painfully at times, to accept that. The constant striving for understanding can be elusive, yet the glimpses of faith, like seeing that open Bible in the early morning light, filled me with a profound sense of peace.

My impatience, my harsh words, my failures were a constant reminder of living in a sinful world.

There’s gratitude in the small things – the shared moments, the milestones passed, the simple comfort of knowing that I was his and he was mine for only a time.

We supported each other, imperfectly, uniquely, profoundly.

I strive for more grace, more patience, a greater understanding of the intricate workings of our hearts. Sanctification is a lifelong journey, and I embraced the challenge.

"What if marriage is really about making us more like Christ, not so much about making us happy?" Kirk Cameron

Our love story was written in a language neither of us fully mastered, yet the unfolding narrative, with all its complexities and contradictions, was undeniably ours.

In 2024, I had looked ahead, not with trepidation but with a firm resolve to strengthen my heart, sharpen my spirit, and embrace the next chapter, hand in hand, with my husband, my love, my man until God unfolded a new chapter without him.