Why should I be like a veiled woman?

I am thinking along the same lines Fellowsojourner. Prone to wander– oh!
The following was first in The Friendships of Women, but it was so appropriate to quote in The God of All Comfort — I’d like to share it here.

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When I was writing the first edition of The Friendships of Women in my thirties, I saw how vulnerable we are, especially as women, to cling too tightly to a good friend, either driving them away by smothering them, or being devastated when they eventually let us down, as every person will. Our daughter Sally was just ten at the time that I wrote the following:

Sally and her friend Tricia are practically joined at the hip. They zip their sleeping bags together, share their popsicles, and even, when pressed, borrow each other’s underwear and toothbrushes. When they are separated, I sense Sally’s anxiety. They told me they would absolutely die if they didn’t get in the same fifth grade.
Pondering their friendship, I asked, “Do you think you are dependent on each other?”
“What does dependent mean?” Tricia asked.
Searching quickly for a simple synonym, I said, “Do you think you need each other?”
In unison they chimed, “YES!”
Seeing my perturbed pause, Sally questioned, “Is that bad?”
“Well,” I responded, “we should be dependent on Jesus.”
“Can’t I be dependent on Jesus and Tricia?” my daughter asked.
I contemplate this. I, who had recently told my extremely capable
tax-form-filler-outer, smoke-alarm-putter-upper, sliver-remover husband that if anything happened to him, I hoped a total-care nursing home would accept a forty-two-year-old woman with her three children.
Finally I told Sally, who was waiting expectantly: “I think we both have some growing up to do. It’s important to love our friends, to cherish them, and to be committed to them. Girls and women are good at that—and it’s a beautiful side to our friendships. But we need to learn to be dependent, leaning on God, because He’s the only one who will never betray us or die or move away.”
Sally looked at me quizzically. She cannot imagine any of these things ever happening to her and Tricia.

And truly, at that time, I couldn’t imagine any of those things happening with me and Steve. But God was beginning to whisper the truth to me: Depend on Me, Dee—I am the only One who is the Solid Rock. God was already beginning to prepare me for my husband’s early death.
Many widows or divorcees start clinging too tightly to their children when they are bereft of their mate. At first it is natural, and for a time, permissible. My girls and I slept together in my king-sized bed the first nights after Steve’s death, and it assuaged some of our engulfing pain. We spent the first ten days after his burial at our cabin, weeping with each other, reading the thousands of cards that came.
But then, one by one, the girls became strong enough to leave the nest. In January, Beth moved to Kansas City to live with her brother and sister-in-law and study graphic arts. Sally planned to leave as well, in the spring, to begin her masters in clinical psychology at Wheaton College. Only Annie would be left, and I was frankly relieved when she told me she wanted to stay, live with me, and attend a nearby college. Yet by February, she was falling in love, and I sensed God was prying my fingers from her as well.

Monday, February 27
Four months after Steve’s death

Our pastor’s son, David, has offered to help Annie paint her room and they’ve been spending days together stripping the Laura Ashley wallpaper and painting with a “linen” effect. A long process, purposely drawn out, I think, by what Sally is certain is a “brewing romance” for her little sister.

David has asked to talk to me tomorrow. Annie tells me he wants permission to date her. She so wants me to say, “Yes.” I told her I had lots of questions for him first. Help me be wise, Lord.

Help me not to cling to Annie, but also to be wise, for Annie’s so young, so vulnerable in her grief. Show me this young man’s character.

Tuesday, February 28

David came and I sent Annie to the grocery store so we could have privacy.

He answered each of my questions honestly and humbly. I then told him that I liked him and loved his family, but still had one concern. He owned a motorcycle and guns—and Steve wouldn’t have wanted his daughter around either.

Without hesitation, he said, “I’ll sell them.”

I know Steve would have been pleased with his immediate response. It took the wind out of me! He sat there, looking at me, wondering what other objections I might bring up. I couldn’t think of any.

After a moment I said, “Well, then, David, if you are willing to do that right away, then you may date her. But, please, David, go slowly. She is tremendously vulnerable right now. Her Dad has only been gone four months.” He nodded vigorously. He’s obviously smitten.

Their romance progressed, and David honored my wishes to move slowly. When he did come and ask for Annie’s hand, I realized how terribly hard it was going to be for me to let her go, even though I was by now convinced of David’s godly character. My soul was anxious, so I had to talk to her. I remember singing “Be Thou My Vision” to her. My vision had to be Jesus—not family. Husbands and children are a great gift, but never were they intended to be “our life.” As Colossians 3 says, “Christ is our life.” Everything else is simply an added blessing. If we make family, career, comfort, or “man’s empty praise,” our life, we miss the life God intended for us.
But when we have a deeply ingrained default mode, as I obviously do with my family, we can’t talk to our soul just once—she needs to be reminded continually. I would sing a verse from “Be Thou My Vision” and my soul would calm. Then she would spasm again, and I’d listen to Sara Groves sing “Hiding Place” on my iPod, asking God to make it be true in me.
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