Forty-five

 A little over a year ago, our family moved north. After graduating seminary, I received a call from a church in northern Minnesota. One year into it, I can firmly say that this is where God wants us to be. I love my job. It's one of those, 'This is what I was born to do' kind of things. Pretty cool.

Life in northern Minnesota is so different from the Twin Cities, where I spent nearly 30 years of my life. We technically don't live in a town; we live in a township. The closest town has 190 people. I have no neighbors, unless you count the wolves, deer, bobcats, and bear. I own a fleece-lined flannel. People in the church are frequently amused at my "city girl lives in the country now" moments. This spring, our senior dog, Buddy Lee, was gnawing on something in the yard. I went to investigate and discovered he was gnawing on a femur that still had a hoof. A quick Google search revealed it was a deer femur, and since it was mostly skeletonized, it was fine. But then he brought home the pelvis...and the jaw. Imagine his disappointment when I wrestled a deer pelvis from his clutches and threw it away.

Recently, we returned to the Cities to visit my parents. My parents have lived in the same home for 15 years, and before I married Andrew, during, and after he passed, I lived about a mile away. When I married S, the kids and I moved into his house about 45 minutes away. This visit was the first time in over four years that I have spent extended time in the area. Andrew was everywhere.

We took the big kids school shopping, driving past one of the churches Andrew and I tried out when we were first together. We shopped across the street from the mall where I wandered, lost and alone, looking for an outfit to wear to my husband's funeral. We stopped at the REI where Andrew and I bought wool hats prior to our engagement photos, because some would be outside and it was -40 below zero. S and I had coffee at the local Caribou, where Andrew would stop and pick me up coffee on Saturday mornings. Sitting in that coffee shop, I could see the restaurant where Andrew and I decided we didn't want to date anyone else, the same restaurant we ate at before our impromptu wedding in his mom's hospital room. We bought a chainsaw at the hardware store where Andrew and I bought all his plumbing tools prior to starting plumbing school. 

I have spent days searching for the words to describe what I experienced. Andrew has been gone for longer than I knew him. My entire life with Andrew was lived in this 5-mile radius. I bought a house as a single woman. I sold a different house as a widow. In the span of 10 years my life completely changed, more than once. That five-mile radius is Andrew. It's my very own living history museum. Stepping back into that space was like watching a highlight reel of my past. 

I also drove past the Wal-Mart where I went and bought new bedding the morning after Andrew died. I purposely bought bedding I knew he would absolutely hate. It's a widow thing. I passed the Dunn Brothers Coffee shop where I received the phone call letting me know that Andrew's kidneys had been successfully transplanted into two patients the night before. I drove past the McDonald's where I would get my kids dinner every Friday night. We passed the Wendy's where we would grab lunch with my parents on Sundays after church. 

I'll be honest: I was a bit relieved to return to my wooded paradise in the north. That little corner of the Twin Cities was the site of many of the best moments of my life, as well as some of the worst. It was nice to go back. It was also nice to leave. That's grief. That's widowhood. That's life in the after. Nearly seven years after Andrew passed, and four years after moving away, my heart can enter the Andrew space. I can remember the good and not so good. I can laugh at the memories. I can praise God for his faithfulness through all of it. And I can go back to my current chapter of life. A chapter where God has blessed me with a wonderfully compassionate husband, a third child, another dog, and where my big kids are growing in their faith and thriving. 

Today is Andrew's birthday. He would have been 45. While he's celebrating his seventh birthday in Heaven, we're honoring him on Earth. This morning, Mr. M and S ran a mile in his honor. The humorous part: I don't think Andrew voluntarily ran a mile at any point in his life. Nevertheless, it was sweet to watch them take off this morning. 

I'm still singing. Today, I'm going with a classic:

Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday, dear Andrew!
Happy birthday to you!

I love you the double mostest infinity googolplex times pi with whipped topping. Forever in our hearts.