Now that The Widower and the Washer is available and the launch team is in place, I can finally take a moment to exhale. Of course, there is still plenty to do as I plan in-store signings, podcast interviews, and social media promotion. But for now, let’s take a minute to catch up.
In an earlier entry, I shared how I was wrestling with conflicting emotions over my pending book launch. Trying to be excited to offer something valuable to the world while at the same time acknowledging the deep loss that birthed this book in the first place.
So you may wonder, how am I doing? Did I find a way to reconcile those conflicting feelings?
Yes, but not at all in the way I expected.
Stuffing Emotions
In the days that followed my most recent post, I felt an ever-increasing emotional agitation. Or maybe it was more of a spiritual agitation (or both—they aren’t mutually exclusive). Either way, there were multiple contributing factors.
My wedding anniversary was approaching, which meant having to cross another milestone without Angela. Concurrent with this came all of the normal anxious excitement around releasing a new book and hoping that everything goes okay. To be fair, I can blame only myself, since I timed the release of The Widower and the Washer to coincide with my wedding anniversary.
Still, there was something else stirring in my mind. Releasing this book meant releasing Angela’s story—our story—to the world. In a way, it was like giving new life to her story, which came with a renewed sense of loss over her departure.
I was aware of these feelings and the full weight of them. And honestly, I didn’t want to deal with them. So I did what made sense to me. I turned my emotions off. All of them. It was the only way to ensure they wouldn’t interfere with all of the work ahead of me.
The Off Switch
Some of you may wonder how it is that I can simply turn off my feelings. While I’m not qualified to explain the mechanics, I do know that shutting down feelings is easy for some, challenging for others, and impossible for a few. We’re not all wired the same way.
I also know that it doesn’t work like the circuit breaker in my garage. I don’t have a whole panel of switches to control certain zones and functions. I can’t just shut off the “grief breaker” while the others hum along happily. (Wouldn’t that be something?)
Nope, it’s just one big master switch to shut the whole panel down.
That was it. That was my solution. Let myself grow numb while staying task-minded. I spent a few days stuffing the emotions away, but I still felt the agitation—the spiritual agitation. My emotional bunker was under siege, and it wasn’t going to last indefinitely. I knew something had to break, but I didn’t know when or how.
Then, the Sunday before my book release, I learned that while I have a lot of control over that “emotions on/off” switch, God has His own override switch.
Your Power Has Been Restored
Have you ever experienced a power outage? You sit in a quiet and dark space and perhaps nod off because there’s not much else to do. When the utility crew restores your power, your senses are assaulted as everything comes back online all at once. Lights come on, clocks and electronics squawk, water pumps, heaters, and appliances whirr back to life. What I experienced was like that, only it happened in the most only-God-can-do-this way.
Throwing the Switch
That Sunday, one of our lay preachers delivered a special message on the Biblical theme of community (what the New Testament writers called koinonia). Our congregation has been working through some visioning and strategic planning exercises, and community has emerged as a central theme in our discernment and our shared vision.
It is also the central theme of The Widower and the Washer, where I examine how koinonia applies equally—and interrelatedly—to our partnership in marriage and our community life in the church. Seeing this connection, I appreciated the timing and took the whole scene as a small bit of confirmation.
Then I scanned the bulletin, and about halfway down the order of worship, a certain song jumped off the page. I’ll leave it here for you, and I encourage you to give it a listen if you are able.
This song evokes some of my strongest memories of Angela. When we sang it on Sunday mornings, this song frequently brought her to tears, because she associated it with a coworker who had passed unexpectedly several years prior. Despite the emotions that the song stirred in her, she loved the song and its message.
If you watched the video above (or already know the song), you can see how it is meant to be experienced and shared in community. For these reasons, I chose this as the song to close Angela’s funeral service. A final message from Angela to everyone who gathered to say goodbye.
That Sunday morning, looking at the bulletin, I knew this song would produce the breakthrough in me that God was engineering. But there was still another piece that He had to put in place first.
Emphasis on Community
Remember, the theme of the worship service was “community.” I can’t overstate the importance of this. I also need to provide you some background. I sit in the last pew of the church, right on the center aisle, in the seat closest to the door. Not because I am shy or want to have an exit strategy, but because I am the head greeter, so I need to be near the door.
When we sing, nobody sees me, because I am behind the whole congregation.
But not this time.
As we prepared to sing The Blessing, our worship leader stepped down and walked to the middle of the sanctuary. Heads naturally turned toward him, so we were all facing the center of the church—and each other. He asked us to stay this way for the remainder of the song, as the point was to sing to each other.
Well … that did it. My knees had enough. I sat down, put my head down on my arms on the back of the pew in front of me, and sobbed for the duration of the song. One congregation member had previously moved to the back of the church while we were singing—I am certain that God sent her to that spot. She was there specifically to pray over my son (who was also sitting and sobbing) and me.
And the whole church saw it.
There was nothing private about this moment, even if most of the people in the room didn’t know how much I had been fighting my emotions in recent weeks. I am certain the breakthrough would not have been as effective—or complete—apart from the community.
The Surprise Takeaway
You might think that I may have learned a thing or two about not shutting down my emotions. There’s some truth to that. Even as I write this, I have found the tears bubbling up a couple of times. (Though a contributing factor might be the fact that I am sitting less than 100 yards from the spot where Angela and I exchanged our vows.)
However, the bigger lesson for me is that I can’t write a book about community and then retreat to solitude. The Lord is inviting me to live more fully in community with the people He has placed in my life. Not just to contribute to the work of His kingdom, but to draw strength from the Body of Christ. To experience Him through the koinonia. Because that is exactly what He designed us to do.