Today I went to visit my good friend Mama Pauline.  Ever since we buried her pastor husband, I have been committed to visiting her once a month.  Widows are quickly overlooked and forgotten.   She is very grateful that I am still thinking of her.

We talked about this and we talked about that.  How hard it was to start all over again.  No longer a wife.  No longer a pastor's wife.  Trying to find her new roll.  Where does she fit in? Having to learn so many new things.  Never in her whole life has she had to change a gas bottle.  We cook on bottled gas here in Cameroon.  But now that she is alone, she has had to change her first bottle all by herself.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she missed her husband more than words could tell.  Somehow she managed to connect the new bottle and move on to the next challenge.

Together we discussed the possibility of her starting a new group for other widowed pastors wives.  Said she knew of one not too far from her.  And surely with a little research they could find others.  Maybe they could meet once a month to pray, study God's Word, and discover ways to help each other as they struggle to find their way alone.  This was an exciting prospect.  Gave her something to look ahead to.  Maybe she would be useful again in the future.  As we hugged our good-byes, there was hope in her eyes.