And Then I Met James

The older we grow as we travel this journey called Life, the more we realize we don't walk alone; many have influenced us. Friends, family, clergy, and others have provided guidance over the years.

After my son died, I filled journals with emotions, questions, woes----basically, lots of pain. Most of the pages were not ones I wished to share with anyone. Even though I felt I was losing my mind, fading from who I used to be, and finding the future scary, writing gave me comfort. Journaing brought clarity, and sometimes even solace. To help me on my rocky journey, I also devoured books about grief from memoirs to tomes on writing. It was in Louise DeSalvo's book that I met James Pennebaker.

Who is James? In a nutshell, he's a professor at the University of Texas at Austin whose studies have shown the value of expressive writing when dealing with turmoil. James' work piqued my interest.

In one six-week study, he had half his class write about trivial things and the other half write about wounds and the more sorrowful parts of life. At the end of the study, those who had written deeply were healthier. Pulse rates, heart rates, etc., were checked before and after the study to prove this.

James writes: “If keeping a secret about a trauma was unhealthy, it made sense that having people reveal the secret should improve health. As a social psychologist, I was concerned with having people talk about their secrets to another person because of the complicated social dynamics that would likely result. Consequently, I decided to have participants write about the most traumatic experience of their lives or, for those in a control condition, write about superficial topics.”

I knew writing worked, but because of James' studies, the value of writing as a tool for healing has become more "scientific" for me. The findings from his work are evidence I can use when I advocate for writing as a means of healing. It's not just me telling others writing works because it worked for me (and continues to do so), but there is research that validates how effective what I call "grief and loss writing" is.

My "After Daniel" journals were safe places to unleash all the feelings bottled in my heart. These tear-stained epistles now sit in my closet in a large canvas bag given to me by Sascha, a twice-bereaved mom, poet, and friend. These journals represent my journey of healing, and are one of the reasons, like James, I believe in the writing-health connection.

Writing through life's traumas is good therapy!

Can Grief Make Us Creative?

I remember being overwhelmed, guilt-ridden, and shocked at tears that sprung on me in the bank, the cereal aisle, and when watching a commerical on TV for St. Jude's. As I cried at the clinic, I told my midwife I feared my excessive tears would hurt the baby in my womb. I recall those early days of wanting to drive into the truck ahead of me on the road and die. I could not do this bereavement life, I could not continue in a world without my son Daniel.

Yet I, somehow, was propelled to write. Not just in my journal, but articles, poems, and essays. I didn't have energy to meet with friends, but I could sit at my kitchen table and put words onto paper. Ideas for articles filtered through me as easliy as waves topple the shore. I jotted outlines onto note cards while my toddler napped and and my eldest learned to read at her elementary school. I submitted some of my work to magazines and newsletters. When my first piece was published, I danced around the living room shouting to the sofa and walls, "Daniel, we did it!"

Often the phone rang as I wrote; I ignored it and let the answering machine take the call. Grief flattened my self-confidence, my purpose, and my faith. But writing kept me sane and motivated. Writing helped make sense of the senseless death of my four-year-old boy. The ability to express myself made me bold. Best of all, the connection I felt to Daniel as I wrote about him made my heart feel warm and hugged.

And then when another bereaved parent wrote to say my article communicated what she felt but was unable to form into words, I felt heard and understood.

~~ Alice J. Wisler believes in the power of the pen for healing, health, and hope. Join her on April 27th at the Hampton Inn and Suites in Raleigh for an all-day writing workshop, Weep Boldly; Write Bravely.

Chocolate Sandwich Cookie Recipe

Ingredients

6 Tbsp butter, softened

2/3 cup granulated sugar

1/3 cup cocoa powder (I use Hershey's)

1/4 tsp baking powder

1/8 tsp salt

1 egg

2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 recipe for filling (below)

1. In a bowl, with a mixer, beat the butter on medium for 1 minute. Add the sugar, cocoa, salt, and baking powder. Beat until combined, scraping bowl as needed. Beat in egg. Beat in flour until dough comes together.

2. Spoon dough onto a large piece of plastic and wrap into an 8-inch line. Wrap the long sides of the plastic tightly over the dough. Roll dough gently over the countertop while twisting the ends until it is a smooth, uniform log approximately 1 3/4 inches in diameter. Freeze for 1 1/2 hours until it is firm enough to slice. (Or chill for 4 to 6 hours.)

3. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper. If necessary, reshape log to make it evenly round. Using a sharp knife, cut log crosswise into 1/8-inch-thick slices. Place slices 1 inch apart on prepared cookie sheets.

4. Bake until edges are firm, 12 minutes. Cool on cookie sheet 2 minutes, then remove and transfer cookies to wire rack. When completely cool, fill with filing of your choice.

I used a butter-powdered-sugar-vanilla and vanilla cookie wafer and crushed almonds filling. I didn't have any freeze-dried raspberries on hand. But the original recipe has a raspberry filling. I think as long as you use butter and powdered sugar, you could add whatever you'd like.

Raspberry Cream Filling Recipe:

In a medium bowl beat 1/2 cup softened butter with a mixer on medium until creamy, 1 minute. Beat in 1 cup powdered sugar and 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Add 2 to 4 Tbsp. very finely crushed freeze-dried raspberries. Add more powdered sugar to form the consistency you like. Pipe or spread the mixture evenly onto the bottoms of half the cookies, 2 tsp. each, and then top each bottom with a cookie, bottom side down onto the filling. Gently press together. Makes 18 sandwich cookies.

When Love and Laughter Play the Tune

It's those tapes that want to ruin our lives.

When we've lost a loved one, the tapes of the last moments play in our heads like a broken record that never stops its scratchy noise. The music is the worst we've heard---loud and grating. There is no off-button. The noise is made up of our thoughts that cause us to contemplate the last words spoken by ourselves and by our loved one. We think of how it could have gone differently and how if it had, our loved one would still be alive. Over and over we ask, why did it have to end this way? If only . . . . If only I had taken him to the hospital earlier. If only I had watched him more closely. If only I had known more about the disease or his friends or the event where he was in danger. We scream into the night. We think the constant-playing tapes will kill us. Exhausted, we want to shut off our minds.

As we go over in detail the last moments with our loved one, we want to believe the moments could have been orchestrated differently.

Control is the loud tune that plays in rhythm with If Only. The two work together. We have been led to believe that we have control. We think it is ours. We wore our seat belts and ate our vegetables, were kind to our neighbors (even the nosy ones) and bought toys for our children. We shouldn't have to be going through this confusion, this ache, this despair. Our loved one should still be here with us. Instead, we are now living a life without him or her and wondering how to face each day. For whatever reason, we have bought into the myth of power, control, thinking we could play God in our lives. We ignore the soft voice that asks, "Did you get to choose your place of birth, or height, or color of your eyes?"

To try to make sense of our confusion and illusions, we journal. Page after page, we fill them with questions like: How long does this pain last? When will I get back to the old me? For help, we read the lives of others who have been on the bereavement journey. We marvel at their survival and at the same time wonder how they have done it. Can we do it? Can we journey year after year without our child, our spouse, our parent, our friend?

We put the journals and books aside, and go back to the If Only and Control. Over and over the frantic tunes play as we continue to live the last days. While the re-living the last days seems detrimental, the truth is, it is necessary. It's called process. Our brains need to process what has happened to us in our loss. Eventually----and I don't know how long eventually is---the tapes wear thin. We forgive ourselves, we realize control is a myth, we realize it is not up to us to have control over when someone takes his last breath. We acknowledge we are not God. We may never understand why our loved one died when she did or the way she did. We may never get the answers we want on this earth. But one thing we know, until our last breath, we are going to have to figure out how to make this bereavement journey work.

On a day where the sun pushes past the clouds, we hear the laughter of our loved one. As we drive to work, we recall a road trip with our significant other. In the parking lot, we remember a joke our son told. The laughter feels strange to our ears. A smile expresses the memories we carry in our hearts. The next day we may be back to listening to the If Only tapes, but once again, on another day, a fond memory slips through. She did like to bake oatmeal cookies, he did give the best hugs. And we trod on the journey, clouds and sunlight, dreariness with glimpses of hope. And we are progressing. Day after day, we embark on the rocky path, finding our footing, discovering what we need, learning and growing.

And one morning, we find ourselves thinking: Maybe I will survive. Maybe, perhaps, I might even thrive again. And in the meanwhile, we savor the laughter and the love. They are what fit inside our hearts; their tunes are worth carrying and playing over and over again.

What We Never Lose

I always think, "the wound won't be as painful this year," and I am always reminded that love never dies and missing my son is part of who I am.

Weep Boldly; Write Bravely --- A Writing Workshop Just For You --- Watch the Video

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Cooking with Author Marilyn Nutter

Today we welcome author Marilyn Nutter who has a new book out that offers hope for widows. She also has a recipe for us to bake. So let's get rolling.

I'm glad to have you here, Marilyn. Thank you for joining us at the blog today.

What were the circumstances that led you to write Hope for Widows: Reflections on Mourning, Living, and Change?

I was encouraged by a fellow writer to write articles and a book to help widows--sharing my thoughts, responses to grief, and how to help someone navigate this journey. Some of my book comes from my journal entries. Other parts are experiences with friends and family that once I was encouraged to write a book to help widows, I began to record and apply to grief, mourning, and life changes. And some are responses to scriptures in my devotional reading or Bible studies.

How long did it take you to complete your book?

That’s an answer with many layers. The book evolved over several years. As I said, I was encouraged at a writers’ conference to write a book to help widows walk on their path. I attended conferences and a writers’ group for critiques, so the work went through much editing and changes. I took out a section from each vignette that I might use now for another book. It was declined by several editors because I didn’t have a large platform and some even thought there isn’t a market for widows’ books. That was disappointing. Each day 1,000 women are widowed and the average age of a widow is 59. Finally, once represented by an agent who believed in the message (she has a widowed relative and saw the relevance) she shopped the manuscript. That was about nine years since I began writing, then rewriting. It was a good example of Isaiah 60:22 “When the time is right, I, the Lord will make it happen.”

What was the most difficult part of writing your book?

Probably reliving the night my husband died and the days and months that followed. I could visualize all that I wrote about-even the details. In grief or trauma, when we do that-tell and retell our story- we are in that experience again. We have to re-ground and look at our surroundings to go back into the present.

What do you hope readers will gain/learn from reading it?

I wrote the book for widows- to support and encourage them that they are not alone. The book is interactive and following each vignette, I offer two opportunities: Treasured Reflections where they can respond to their application of the story, such as- did they have a similar experience and what were their thoughts. The other is Treasured Thoughts – asking them to journal how they want to respond and move forward. So the book isn’t just my story but guiding widows to write theirs. The book is not just about the reality of grief but also change, living, and purpose.

I also wrote the book as a widow’s advocate. Everyone, even those with the loss of the same person, grieves in different ways. But aside from the grief of losing the person physically and relationally, there are other losses. We call those secondary losses. An example might be always driving alone somewhere, learning new skills such as banking or home maintenance, and of course loneliness. I want others who know and love widows to have insight into the dramatic life changes and challenges a new path brings to a widow and read Hope for Widows too. Grief is far more than the death of her husband. Hopefully, others who are not widowed will read it and then care more intentionally for the widows in their lives.

Please share a recipe with us.

Sticky Rolls

2 loaves frozen bread dough, thawed

1/2 cup butter

1 large package vanilla pudding (cooked variety, not instant)

1/4 cup milk

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

Spray a 9x13” pan with cooking spray. Tear off pieces of bread dough and place in pan, pieces next to each other. Set aside. Melt butter and add milk, dry pudding mix, and cinnamon. Blend until smooth and pour over bread dough. Our family doubles the butter and milk so we have lots of caramel with the rolls. Cover and refrigerate three hours or overnight. When ready to bake, remove cover and place in a pre-heated 375 degree oven for 30 minutes. Leave in pan to serve. Have a spoon ready to scoop up the caramel!

Why is this recipe special to you?

It was a traditional Christmas morning breakfast when my girls grew up. Now they have carried on the tradition and do the same for their families.

Thank you for joining us today, Marilyn!

You can get a copy of Marilyn's new book on Amazon.

Read more about Marilyn and her writing at her website.