"I have invented a new way of imitating flowers."
Mary Delany, a widow of 72, in a letter to her niece, 1772
In January 1927, Thomas Moses died of a heart attack on the family farm in Eagle Bridge, New York. His wife, Anna Mary, was 66. They had been married forty years. Their children were grown. One of her sons helped keep the farm going, and Anna Mary did what a lot of new widows do. She kept her hands busy.
She stitched pictures out of yarn. Farm scenes, mostly. When arthritis made the needle too painful to hold, her sister suggested she try painting instead. So in her late seventies she did. Her first pictures sat in the window of the drugstore in Hoosick Falls, priced at a few dollars each.
In 1938 an art collector named Louis Caldor happened to drive through town, saw them in the window, and bought them. Two years later, in October 1940, a month after her 80th birthday, she had her first show in New York City. They called it "What a Farm Wife Painted" (Bennington Museum).
The world came to know her as Grandma Moses. She kept painting until she died at 101.
When Thomas died, nobody could have guessed the biggest chapter of her life hadn't started yet. Least of all her.
Maybe you don't think of yourself as a "spiritual person." Maybe you came here because it's 2 in the morning and you typed something like will my life ever feel like mine again?
You're not looking for a sermon. You want to know if starting over after losing your husband is even possible. Or if the best you can hope for is getting through the days.
That's a fair question. I'm a pastor, but I've sat with enough widows to know that honest questions deserve honest answers. So here's mine. Your story isn't over. It may not look like Grandma Moses' story. But the chapter you're in right now probably isn't the last one.
01Small first
Before the painting came the stitching
Notice what Anna Mary didn't do. She didn't wake up one morning with a plan to become a famous painter. She didn't make a vision board. She stitched pictures to fill the long afternoons. The painting came years later, almost by accident, because a small thing led to another small thing.
That's how starting over usually works. Not with a big leap. With a small, ordinary step you take before you feel ready.
Grief counselors sometimes call this behavioral activation. It's a plain idea. When you're grieving, the motivation to do things often doesn't come first. You do a small, meaningful thing anyway, and sometimes the feeling follows. Sometimes it doesn't, and that's okay too. You still did the thing.
A walk to the mailbox. Repotting a plant. Calling the friend who keeps calling you. None of it fixes the loss. But it reminds your body and your mind that you are still here, still able to make something happen.
Try this week
Pick one small thing that keeps your hands busy. Knitting, baking, sorting old photos, planting bulbs. Do it for twenty minutes, three times this week. Don't judge how it turns out.
02Another late bloomer
A widow, a geranium, and a pair of scissors
Two hundred years before Grandma Moses, an Englishwoman named Mary Delany lost her husband. She was 68. They had been married for twenty five years.
Four years later, while staying at a friend's country house, she noticed (as the story is usually told) that a scrap of colored paper looked just like the petal of a geranium. She picked up her scissors and started cutting. That fall she wrote to her niece the line at the top of this page: "I have invented a new way of imitating flowers."
Over the next ten years she made 985 of them. Each one was cut from hundreds of tiny pieces of tissue paper, so lifelike that people still mistake them for paintings. She stopped only when her eyesight failed. Today they belong to the British Museum.
Mary wrote that she took up the work partly to keep herself occupied after losing the man whose good opinion had meant the most to her. She didn't start because she was over her grief. She started in the middle of it.
What grief researchers have found
Psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun spent years studying what they call posttraumatic growth. Many people who go through a devastating loss later describe real changes, including new strength and new possibilities they wouldn't have seen before. Not everyone experiences it, and no one should feel pressured to. Growth doesn't replace the grief. The two can live side by side. (American Psychological Association)
A free gift, if it would help
3 Secrets Every Widow Wishes She Knew About Grief
Before a new chapter starts, most widows need to understand the one they're in. This short guide names three things I wish every widow knew sooner.
No cost. No pressure. Unsubscribe any time.
03The science
What learning something new does for a grieving brain
If you've been forgetting words, losing your keys, or reading the same page three times, you're not losing your mind. Grief is hard on memory and focus. Many widows call it brain fog.
Here's some hopeful news. Your brain can still grow, at any age.
What the research shows
In a study at the University of Texas at Dallas, 221 adults between 60 and 90 spent about fifteen hours a week for three months either learning a new skill, like quilting or digital photography, or doing easier activities like social clubs and puzzles. Only the people learning a demanding new skill showed real gains in memory. (Park and colleagues, Psychological Science, 2014)
The lead researcher, Denise Park, put it simply: "When you are inside your comfort zone you may be outside of the enhancement zone."
You don't need fifteen hours a week to start. That was a research study, not a prescription. But it means the painting class, the piano lessons, the Spanish app on your phone, or the quilt you've always wanted to try isn't silly. It may be one of the best things you can do for your mind right now.
Grandma Moses learned to paint at 78. Mary Delany invented a new art form at 72. Neither of them was too old. Neither are you.
Try this month
Look up one beginner class near you, at the library, the community center, or a craft store. You don't have to sign up yet. Just find out what's there.
04Bringing him along
Starting over after losing your husband doesn't mean leaving him behind
Some widows hear "starting over" and feel sick. It sounds like erasing him. Moving on. Wiping the slate clean.
That isn't what happened to either of these women.
Look at what Grandma Moses painted. Sugaring off in the spring. Haying in the summer. Farmhouses in the snow. She painted the life she and Thomas had lived together, from memory. Her new chapter was full of her old one.
Grief counselors call this continuing bonds. You don't have to cut the cord to have a future. You carry him with you. His humor. The things he taught you. The places you went together. Your next chapter can include him in a hundred quiet ways.
And notice one more thing. Neither woman started her new chapter in the first year. For Mary it was about four years. For Anna Mary it was closer to ten. If you're early in your grief and none of this feels possible yet, that's not failure. That's simply where you are. The new thing will wait for you.
Keep reading: Somewhere in the middle: widow grief timeline
05An ancient promise
Something new springing up
I'll be honest with you about where I stand. I'm a pastor, and I believe there's more to your story than you can see from where you're sitting. You don't have to share that belief to read on. But I'd be leaving something out if I didn't tell you about a line that has comforted grieving people for thousands of years.
It was written to people who had lost nearly everything. Their homes. Their city. The life they knew.
"Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."
Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)
A way in the wilderness. Rivers in the desert. Not instead of the wilderness. Right through the middle of it.
Whatever you believe about God today, you're welcome to hold onto that picture. And if you've ever wondered whether the God behind those words might care about you personally, the door is open. No pressure, no strings. You can read more about what that relationship looks like whenever you're ready.
Something to sit with this week
What did you set aside years ago?
Grandma Moses loved to draw as a girl, long before farm work and children filled her days. Mary Delany had cut shapes from paper most of her life. Sometimes the next chapter starts with something you put on a shelf long ago. Think back. A class you never took. A hobby you gave up when the kids came. A place you always meant to see.
Write it down on a sticky note and put it on the refrigerator. You don't have to do anything with it yet.
And if you'd like, here's a prayer you're welcome to borrow, whatever you believe.
God, if You're there, I don't know what my life is supposed to look like now. Help me take one small step this week. And if there's something new ahead, help me see it when it comes.
Grandma Moses' first paintings sat in a drugstore window, priced at a few dollars, while people walked right past them. Nobody knew what was coming. Not even her. Your window may look ordinary right now too. Leave something in it anyway.
Blessings, Pastor Howard
Know a widow who needs this today?
Sometimes the kindest thing is a quiet "I thought of you."
What's something you set aside years ago that you'd love to try again?
A class, a craft, a trip, a dream. Tell me in the comments below. I read every comment, and your words might help another widow feel less alone.