In a way, this post began several years ago. We don’t always
see things clearly as they happen. At least I don’t. So I’ll just share my
story. It is a story of new beginnings.
Tom and I made the decision to
retire on a December morning in 2011. His surgeon had just told us the
circumstances leading to his recent quadruple bypass were genetic.
“Your
cholesterol is fine,” she said. “Your blood pressure is great. You eat right and
exercise. This was all genetic. It will
happen again.” I stole a glance at Tom. His expression was grim at best.
“I can’t
say when it will happen,” the surgeon continued. “It could be a year from now
or twenty-five years from now, but it will happen.”
“Then I
choose the twenty-five years,” I piped up. That got a smile from Tom.
“You’re
doing everything right,” she told him. "Just keep it up."
As Tom and
I left the surgeon’s office, we made the decision to retire early. He had to
turn sixty first. That would be the following September. The earliest date he
could leave his job was October of 2012. I taught at a college operating on a
semester system. By the time we got into our car we had tentatively set our
retirement date for December 31, 2012. One year. It wasn’t set in stone. We
still had to pray about it.
New Beginnings.
By the second week in January 2012
we were confident this was God’s plan for us. Tom spoke to people at his work.
I spoke to the dean at my university.
“When I
retire I’m going to fish and golf every day,” Tom announced. “What are you
going to do?”
Good
question. I could fish and golf… but not every day. I considered teaching an
online class or consulting. I didn’t know what I would do. I prayed about it.
One
February morning I woke up with a clear picture of what I would do when I
retired. “I’m going to be a published author,” I told my sweet husband.
He didn’t
cast a bit of doubt over my decision. “You can do it! What are you going to
write?”
Another
good question. I had published education pieces in professional journals. I had
written children’s stories for my students as an early childhood educator.
Continuing in either direction would have made sense. “I think I’ll write a
novel,” I told him.
I used my
week of Spring Break, to draft a business plan for writing. I then started
writing the novel and researching writing conferences. I honed my skills by
completing self-imposed writing exercises. I attended the Write-to-Publish
conference in Wheaton, Illinois for two days once the semester ended. There I
attended workshops, networked with other authors, agents, and editors, and
pitched my book to Eddie Jones of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas.
One Saturday evening in early
August I received an email confirming one of the stories I had written as an
exercise had been accepted for publication in Chicken Soup for the Soul. I went
to bed happy. The next morning I wanted to show Tom the email, but when I
opened my email account I not only had the email from Chicken Soup for the
Soul, but a new message from Eddie Jones. It was a contract to publish Breathing on Her Own.
New Beginnings.
I spent the next few months
teaching my final classes at the university, finishing my novel, and making
plans to move to Florida for the winter. Tom and I enjoyed two wonderful
winters in Florida. He didn’t golf and fish every
day, but enough to make him happy. He bought a fishing boat the first year. The
second year we bought a used truck camper and pretended we were young enough
and agile enough to climb into the bed above the cab of the truck without a
worry in the world.
Tom continued fishing and golfing. I
continued writing every day. I wrote a second novel set in Door County,
Wisconsin. My third book was about a widow who found her way back to living a
full and happy life after losing her husband to cancer. The fourth one focused
on a teacher caught in the middle of the “sandwich generation” scenario, caring
for her mother while juggling a husband, and son at home. The fifth book I
drafted was a romantic suspense where the main characters are in their early
twenties.
In my spare time during those first
two years of retirement, I published another story in Chicken Soup for the Soul, had a couple of articles published in The Lookout Magazine, wrote for Home Health Aide Digest, and began work
on a nonfiction book tentatively titled Write
it on the Doorframes. It is a book on Christian parenting.
Breathing on Her Own was released in March of 2014. Tom was as excited as I was. We
had a party in Florida. We had another one in Ohio when we came home in June. It seemed 2014 was turning out to be the best
year ever. We decided to sell our Ohio home and downsize. While we were
downsizing our living space, we upgraded our camping space and bought a used
fifth wheel camper. Life was good.
I purposefully did not even try to
publish any of my other books. My publisher said it takes nine months to a year
for a first book from an unknown author to “grow legs” and build an audience.
Tom and I discussed a timeframe. The plan was to leave for Florida November 1st. I would spend November and December polishing
the second novel. We would be in Florida in February of 2015 when the Florida
Christian Writers Conference takes place. I would have the book ready to pitch
to Eddie Jones or another publisher at that time. It was a plan.
October 29, 2014 was a beautiful
sunny day. In a few days we would be heading back to Florida. After lunch, Tom
headed out for his daily bicycle ride. I headed to my computer to work. A few
minutes later I received the call telling me Tom had an accident.
Tom’s tire went off the pavement,
throwing him into a tree.
Yes, he was wearing a helmet.
No, there was no one else involved.
Two hours later, my precious
husband of forty-three years was pronounced dead. Though it wasn’t announced,
part of me died that day, too.
Losing Tom has been the most
difficult experience of my life. I find comfort in knowing it was his time. I
have every evidence of it. The Bible tells us our days are numbered and that
our life span is determined before we are even born. (Psalm 139:16)
I looked at my success in writing
as a gift from God. God knew when Tom would leave this earth. He knew I needed
something to do. A purpose. My writing provided all of that. However, I was
stuck and I couldn’t figure out why.
I managed to keep my blog going. I
piddled around with my books. Some needed tweaking while others needed some
serious revision. “I should be publishing these!” It was the voice in my head.
The voice telling me I was letting God down by not doing what he commissioned
me to do. The same voice telling me in some way I was letting Tom down, too.
The voice of disappointment.
New Beginnings.
Two and a half years after Tom’s
death I made the decision to move to a different house. Downsizing had been our
plan anyway. Moving is both physically and emotionally exhausting. The process,
though, brought with it more than fatigue. It brought clarity.
I came to realize I needed those first couple of years to mourn -not to publish. I needed that time to heal. And I came to
understand that the books I had drafted were indeed a gift from God. He had
given me those so I would have a place to start when I was ready to return to
my writing. I’ve since forgiven myself for not publishing any novels during
that difficult time of my life. And I’ve now given myself permission to enjoy a
new and different life. A life that honors God…and Tom.
I’m listening to a new
voice. It is the voice of courage and determination. It is the voice of New
Beginnings.