Risking it All for Love

This week has been spent in a beautiful time of sharing about a man who changed the world in his short time on earth. Tears of sadness and tears of joy flowed freely as Curt’s beautiful name rolled effortlessly off our tongues.

This beautiful man stole our hearts... there is no doubt about that.

As I spoke with countless family and friends, one theme that seemed to come up over and over was how Curt seemed to have figured it out. A life of balanced harmony.As more and more people shared how they aspire to live their life as Curt did, it made me pause to figure out what it was that made Curt so unique, so rare, and so charismatic.

My heart pondered this as my mind replayed his easy smile and seemingly endless energy and boundless strength. I thought about our ten thousand quiet conversations we had together on the secrets of life and our understanding of what this world is all about. I thought about his huge dreams and our mile long list of goals. I thought about our life, our decisions, our huge strides we made together in such a short period of time. It was then that it hit me...

Curt had it figured out because he was not afraid to risk it all when he saw potential.

He took risks that led him to finding a beautiful wife, an awesome career, friendships that are like family, and faith that could move mountains.

He saw what he wanted and he went for it. If he was gonna risk, he was gonna risk big and that is how he figured it out.

I have realized that this is not how everyone lives their lives. Often we are so concerned with what will happen if we make the wrong choice or take the wrong path that we never experience the feeling of freedom that you get when you realize that the risk that you took led you to a place of such beauty that you never even knew it existed. God’s perfect chapter.

So often we are afraid of this kind of consequential risk. What if it doesn’t work out? What if I fail? What if I put my heart out on a limb and someone gets hurt? What if the job turns out to be unstable and I lose it all? What if I don’t have enough money? What if I take too much time off of work and don’t have vacation for when I need it? Risk comes is so many forms. We are so concerned about the consequence that we lose sight of the fact that we are not promised any more time than the present moment, and that too can change in an instant.

It seems to me that the scariest part of humanity is that so often we let the fear of the unknown stop us from living into our own individual, infinite possibilities.

When I met Curt and decided to get rid of all my stuff and move into a tent by the river, risk was an understatement. We didn’t know what we were doing and we certainly didn’t know that our love was going to be the kind of magical love that stops time. But, what we did know was that when we talked about life and listened to each others hearts, there was a freedom in knowing that we both felt like better people when the other was around. So, the tent it was and after that first act of life altering risk, our lives changed forever.

Curt lived by the principle of faith. He didn’t spend more time wondering if he was going to fail or get hurt than he did in taking action to become the man he wanted to be. 

I have to admit there are times I falter now. I wonder if perhaps I should rein it in, take a step back so as not to get hurt again. But, I know that is not how I got this beautiful life we created. I know that in order to have a big life you have to have big risk.

So often we settle for so little when God called us for so much more. God’s plan is bigger than ours. When you look around at the incredibly vast mountain ranges and perfectly formed rivers, we realize that our lives are called to be just as great. Curt, I will continue to hold true to risking it all for love. Go big or go home, baby.

Chapters of Life

Recently I was sitting in the sun and something happened. It was as if something shifted ever so slightly. I looked around and it was as if something had lifted. I couldn’t pin point it at first. I could only sigh with the moment, my current reality. I tried to see what had changed, what had shifted from the moment before. I was still the same, yet newness had begun. I looked at the stuff that has been surrounding me over the last year and I realized that a chapter has closed. My beautiful earthly chapter that God gave me, designed specifically for Curt and myself, has closed. As I am very aware that I carry his heart in my own, our physical chapter with each other has been put on pause.

The man with beautiful blue eyes, chiseled features, humble grace, contagious laughter and exuberant, boyish energy, is now waiting for me in the next chapter. I’ve cried so many tears over this last year that I know I could fill the rivers. But, in that moment, I felt peace.

Someone asked me recently how I was feeling about facing the week that Curt died. As I paused, analyzing how I felt, I vaguely felt I should answer that I am devastated or overcome with sadness, that I should live up to what others expect me to say. But, as I do feel those feelings often, what I felt in that moment was that I feel as if I just woke up, just starting to feel alive again, but when I look around Curt is not here. This realization makes me time and time again pause in quiet wonder. Pausing to try to comprehend how we can survive such deep pain in this life and keep going.

Curt thought I hung the moon. I had never felt someone look at me the way that he did. Last night I was talking with an older gentleman who has been married forever. He shared of when he met his wife, how he was mesmerized by her beauty and grace. He said “I thought she was Holy, I would have done anything to have her”. I smiled through my tears. That is how Curt looked at me. He cherished our love, our precious time together. He wrote me love notes and he opened the door for me. He constantly whispered in my ear that I was the prettiest girl in the room. He believed I was Holy and I believed he was the most intricately, perfect man I had ever met. God’s perfectly designed chapter for both of us.

 

When Curt was here I used to witness to others that were looking for their love chapter. I remember wanting to inspire others of the kind of love that God gives us. Love that never hurts and always protects, the kind of love that you can’t get enough of, that inspires you to be a better person because of the person that is standing next to you. When you look into your partner’s eyes and feel as though you can do anything, and are inspired to do so, that is love. After losing Curt I am even more inspired to witness to others that this exists, to hold out and to not to settle for less. Curt would tell you the same thing if he were standing here holding my hand; I know this because we finished each other’s hearts and sentences.

 

 As I think about my earthly chapter with Curt coming to a close, I can’t help but look forward to the next one. Partly because I know the faster I get through another chapter the faster I get to be with Curt. But also because I know God has designed my next chapter as perfectly as he has the last. I know that my life is shaped by love, God’s love. As I am waking up after this last year of rest, I have a feeling His plan is bigger than mine. 

I hold you so tightly, my love, deep in my heart. I love you equal, I love you to the moon, I love you for eternity. 

Transparency

I often speak of the strength that I find within myself. The feeling I have that God is leading my path, this curvy road that led me to where I am now, with so many twists and turns that I know no map could have gotten me here on my own. I write of this strength often because I feel it is part of my identity, this identity that God is revealing to me daily. This strength that is ingrained in my heart, my heart that belongs to not only me, but to my love.

But, there are times that I don’t feel strong. I ache with an ache that can’t be described to those who have never felt it. It overcomes my core and I shake with anxiety. Let me try to find my earthly words to explain, in hope that it may help those who need it. For, what good is it to share your strength, if you don’t share your weakness? 

I’ve been feeling a strong urge to run away. To be rid of the burdens that seem to weigh on my shoulders, these shoulders that feel like they strain to continuously stay pulled back, strong in demeanor, ready for the next battle and ready to look as if I have it together. I long to run away, to be rid of the title that seems to quietly sneak into my conscious, a title that makes my heart cry out, fighting against this word with all it has.

Widow.

I struggle to stay present because everything in me wants to either rewind or fast forward. This present moment cries out for my attention and my intention is to always answer the cry, give this present moment the respect that it deserves, for, I now know, we have nothing if we don’t have this present moment. But, I don’t want to give this moment my attention. My heart turns away from this moment as if it is electric and it wants to escape the shock. So often this happens that I have to diligently remind my heart to turn back, look at those around me, and smile for the moment that I am granted.

But, when I do, when I look at those around me, I am reminded that Curt is not standing next to them. That I am a widow and that I don’t get to fast forward to when it may seem even less foggy than this current reality that is vastly less foggy then it was a year ago. It is a cycle. The endless cycle of grief.

My heart aches for Curt. It bleeds for Curt. It pours out bloody tears that mix together and I feel weak from their loss. The mess that pours out of me is so extravagant that I struggle to hide the pool that slowly surrounds my feet. This puddle that shows my weakness and is a tangible sign of my reality, I desperately try to clean it up without others getting concerned. Hoping that all they can see is the girl with her shoulders held back and her eyes towards tomorrow.  The amazingly transparent girl that Curt married, the girl that holds his heart in her own, the girl that believes she can move mountains and change the world. 

Widow.

I know these moments, to, will pass. I know this because I am becoming a veteran at this… this title, these feelings, this loss of bloody tears. I now understand the weight of the word. The weight of the darkness that surrounds you when you are bleeding, and I know well the feeling when it passes and the bleeding stops, if even for a little while.

I began these words by talking about my strength, and I did so for a reason. My strength is in simple, humble faith. In Jesus. I don’t know how I would keep walking without His light. Without Him here to help me clean up my bloody mess. He is there, right beside me, helping me with the burden of clean up.

Widow.

I will walk by faith, even if I can’t see the road ahead of me, and, sometimes, when I can’t even see the ground beneath me because of the mess. When I see nothing but water ahead of me, I will keep walking with unfaltering faith, until the water parts. I will keep walking toward the water, getting my feet steady, ready to move a mountain and change the world.