The Ministry of Widowhood

Outside of worship services, committee meetings and coffee hour in the undercroft, a unique group of more than two dozen meets at All Saints Episcopal Church in East Lansing. Sharing more than a faith, they each experienced the loss of the partner they had hoped to grow old with.

Shannon Fineout and Jo Hartwell, longtime parishioners at All Saints and both widows of clergy, created this community.

“When Bill died in 2016,” Fineout said, “there were only two other widows at church. I felt like I needed some extra support from my church family. So, Jo and I started talking, and that’s how we became really good friends. We had known each other before from choir but once she lost Senia, then we had a bond and we started talking on the phone.”

Hartwell would ask Fineout questions that each person who loses a longtime partner has.

“When I thought I was losing my mind, I would call Shannon, and she’d say, ‘Yes, I feel like that,’” Hartwell said. “It was a wonderful coincidence, because we’d both been clergy wives, but it was more that Shannon had the same experience of being widowed.”

The two eventually thought that their conversations might do others some good. With the support of their parish priest, they formed a support group for the 33 widows and widowers who attended All Saints – and some non-members who also needed a community.

Deb Lashbrook is one of those widows.  She lost her husband in 2021.

“The early days after Michael’s death were filled with nonstop tasks,” she said. “You have to make funeral arrangements, call people, handle legal paperwork and financial matters. There’s no time to truly grieve at first. It’s mechanical, exhausting work. But you do it. One task at a time, one day at a time. Because you must. You’re just trying to get through the day and do what needs to be done.

“Later on, the quiet sets in. The cards and messages stop coming. People move forward with their lives, but you feel alone in a new and unfamiliar place. You’re no longer part of a couple. All the things that used to be shared — cooking meals, taking care of the house, helping with family, managing bills, handling paperwork, even taking out the trash — are now solely your responsibility.”

Lashbrook said the group at All Saints has been a vital part of her healing process.  

“It’s a space where we show up with our authentic selves,” she said. “We share stories, exchange advice, cry, and even laugh at the oftentimes funny situations we now deal with. Sometimes we laugh more than we expect. It’s a reminder that even in grief, life continues to offer moments of connection and light and hope.”

The hope, however, often finds itself mixed in with several other emotions. Each is welcome to be expressed in the widows group.

“There’s a lot of anger,” Hartwell said. “When we’ve lost our spouses so early, a lot of us have been long-time caregivers, we haven’t enjoyed retirements together. And a lot of people are angry at God.

“I think people need to process that.”

“I also think that our Christian faith gets us through a lot of stuff,” Fineout added. “If I didn’t know, in my heart and in my spirit that I’m gonna see Bill again…if I didn’t have that…”

Fineout said that she and Hartwell prepare for their gatherings with snacks and deciding on a theme. They’ll open and close with prayers and spend time in small groups discussing the theme or guiding question.

“Sometimes our themes are practical,” she said. “Like, we’ll gather a database of plumbers and electricians, and handymen. But sometimes we talk about deeper issues.”

“How do we deal with holidays without our spouses,” Hartwell added. “What kind of traditions do we start now?

Marcia Austreng, another member of the sisterhood, remembers some of the practical things she had to deal with when her husband Don died in 2018 – challenges the widow group helped her overcome.

“When your spouse dies there’s so much you have to take care of,” she said.  “I thought we were prepared but we weren’t. Comcast had his social security number wrong for all those years and we didn’t know it. When I went to have it transferred to my name, they wouldn’t do it because the number I had didn’t match the one they had.”

And while the widows can draw strength from their family, Fineout clarifies that the shade of grief is different.

“Of course you’re mourning the same person,” Fineout said, “but it’s a completely different relationship. Your kids don’t understand. They’re grieving a parent but after the funeral and a few months, you’re alone and your kids have kids and [partners] and jobs. They’ve got their own lives.”

But in one another, the group draws strength from their shared experiences. They know that grief has no expiration date and is amorphous.

“When I say that you don’t get over it,” Hartwell said, “I mean, you can be perfectly fine [any given] day. [Then], even after all these years, you’ll see something or you’ll have a feeling and you’ll start crying.”

Austreng agrees.

“Don’t listen to what people say to you,” she said. “About them being in a better place, so many things that are wrong to say. The truth is, grief never fully leaves. Some days it’s a whisper. Other days it’s the elephant in the room. But over time, its vise-like grip loosens. A new kind of life slowly begins to take shape — not the one I planned for, but one that still holds meaning.”

When Fineout is asked to reflect on the power of the group to bring some peace and comfort to those mourning, she thinks carefully before answering.

“I kind of feel that since Bill died, this is my ministry,” Fineout said.  “To minister to other widows and remind them they’re not alone in it.”