What's in a Name?

This year, as I have become more serious about walking, a whole new world of names has opened up to me.

I now have conversations that involve the words 'shoe last' and 'wicking fabric' and 'yoga head wrap and 'polar fleece'  I have brand knowledge of such brands as Reebok©, Adidas©, Champion©, Polartec©, New Balance©, and PrAna©, to name a few. 

It is a whole new world!

But...especially at this time of year...I cannot help but think of other names...names that are infinitely more important...

Names like Wonderful Counselor, Everlasting Father, Mighty God, Prince of Peace...

This year as we prepare to celebrate the birth of our Savior, the boys and I are working our way through Carol Garborg's The Family Book of Advent (http://www.christianbook.com/advent-stories-activities-celebrate-meaning-christmas/carol-garborg/9781609365417/pd/365417?product_redirect=1&Ntt=365417&item_code=&Ntk=keywords&event=ESRCP).  Each day, we read devotions, complete object lesson activities...and write the names of our Lord and Savior to hang on a wreath (we are doing a tree instead).

Each time we hit a "name alert" in the book, we are reminded of the richness, the completeness, the depth of love our Lord has for us.  He came to live and die so He would understand us...and so He could save us.  Mind blowing, when you think about it.

And much, much more important than walking gear.

I pray the whole world sees that!

For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus, every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. -Philippians 2:9-11

In the Pink

This morning I got up extra early to work on getting our day together.  I knew we had a lot on our plate:

• hair cuts
• Christmas crafts for relatives
• Christmas cards
• Christmas baking
• youth band practice

Not to mention:

• house cleaning for our weekend company
• homeschooling
• the 5-6 loads of laundry (I have lost count) that are on my bed to fold

Too much for one day!  I hurriedly complete my Bible study (sorry, Beth) and start on the planning of this hairy day.  The Amy Grant song I Need A Silent Night ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRSSsNbF29I) is running through my mind.

I endeavor to persevere.  I plan the day down to the moments and get ready for the boys to get up so we can hit the ground running.

Then...

Jackson gets up and comes down...he's got pink eye.

Ugh.

Now, this was not entirely unexpected.  I had started my day Tuesday with a run to the doc-in-the-box around the corner from the house with Tanner..  Since then, we have been washing hands furiously and peeking at everyone's eyelids.

I thought we had dodged the bullet this time, and that Tanner was going to be the only one down with it.  Nope.

Next, checked Alex's eyelids...pink eye starting there, too.  Matthew...same scenario.

Obviously my carefully planned schedule is out the window.  Regroup, regroup...

And someone (Someone?) has just turned up the volume of Amy Grant in my ear...

I've done it again, haven't I, Lord?

Single parenthood is never easy, but especially not if you try to be Supermom, creating the best. Christmas. ever.

I know better than this!  Really, I do!

Yet it happens again and again that I get myself too deeply planned, too tightly stretched...

Not good for anyone.

And that is when God steps in...and gives me a time out...this time in the form of pink eye.

Instead of the crazy rushing around, my day now involves movies and jammies and an afternoon nap...and maybe some of those Christmas crafts and that laundry to fold.

Sorry, Lord, for doing it again...and again...and again.

Thanks, Lord, for loving me enough to get me out of my stress-mess via a time out.

Now I have to check my own eyelids...praying that other shoe does not fall.

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord.  “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:8-9

Up In Flames

Last week, while visiting my folks, my dad and I took a ride in the golf cart.

First, we smelled a funny, plastic-y kind of smell.  "What's that smell, Dad?"

"Not sure."  He keeps driving the golf cart, telling me about the houses we are passing.

"The smell is not going away, Dad..."

He keeps driving.

"Daddy, there's smoke!"

Now he stops the golf cart and we get out.

Dad pulls up the seat...and flames come out!

We send a passer-by to the gate house a few hundred feet away for the fire extinguisher.

By the time this gentleman returns, the cart is fully engulfed in flames, and we run to the gatehouse to have them call the fire department.

The fire department comes to put out the blaze, leaving only a charred pile of plastic and a bit of metal that has to be scraped from the road.

Five minutes...just five minutes...and the golf cart lay in ruins.

How equally quickly my attitude can go up in flames!

I can be sailing along, leaving the future to God, not feeling pressure and stress, holding firmly to God's hand...when out of the blue...

Flames!  Smoke!  Meltdown!

I have to ask myself...why?

My dad's fire was caused by a battery issue.  Could the cause of mine be the same?

Did I recharge with my daily dose of Godly encouragement through Bible reading and study?  Have I spent enough time on maintenance, seeking from the Lord what about me needs to change? 

In those instances of "fire," the answer is...probably not.

While I am not sure whether my dad's golf cart fire could be prevented, I am pretty sure my "fire" could have been.

I resolve to work harder at the PM (preventative maintenance) to avoid the fires...and their consequences of burning me and others.

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. - 2 Timothy 2:15

Unpacking Christmas

It is the beginning of December and that means the annual frenzy to get the house ready for the season.

Right now, it looks like Christmas threw up.  Not a pretty sight.  Boxes are strewn everywhere.  There is foam and fake pine needles all over the floor, and half-done shopping lists and baking lists cover the counter.  You can barely move without having to shift something else first.  I rush around, doing one thing, until I spy another that needs to be done just as much, and stop and tackle that.  The boys try to be helpful where they can, but they don't think like me (imagine that).  (Actually, that is a great blessing.)

Currently I am unpacking the boxes of ornaments for the "family" tree.

And in this activity, I get my first Christmas miracle.

This is the tree of memories.  I have the pretty tree in the living room, but this tree holds my heart.

I unpack ornaments that graced my tree as a child:  a knitted stocking Mom made, needlepoint I did, wooden Santas as old as the hills that may have even come from Mom's tree growing up, my grandmother's Hallmark carousel ornaments.  I praise God that I grew up in the family that I did, with love and joy all around, and with Christmas memories that still bring me to tears.

I unpack the first Christmas ornaments that my mom so lovingly picked out for me and Keith, and Christmas ornaments that we got for our wedding from the Huffs and the Fontaines.  I praise God for a loving husband.  Even though he went home to Glory early, I would not have traded one moment with him.

I unpack the ornaments made by the boys over the years.  Some are crude and falling apart, but they make me smile.  I praise God for loving children, who love God, and who love me, despite my cranky days.

I unpack ornaments that Shari and Julie helped my boys to make a year after Keith died, the presents they gave me that year.  I praise God for friends who care enough to make my Christmas special.

I unpack a bell from Becky's wedding, and bluebirds from Courtney's, favors that have graced my tree since those blessed events.  I think back to the beautiful brides they were and praise God for their marriages and their children.

And then I find it.  It doesn't look like much, but to me, it is priceless.  Aunt Hilda gave my sister and me each one...can't even remember when.  It is about 1" x 1/2" x 2"...Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in a little glass box.  From the time I was little, I just knew looking at this ornament that it was real...He had been here as a baby, and a man, for me.

And that is the greatest miracle of all.

I pray that this moment can stay fresh in my mind through this entire Christmas season.

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.  - John 3:16

Paving Stones

We have a group of widows (and a few widowers) who meet together a couple times a month for support.

This group has been invaluable in my life for healing...and to create a sense of normalcy.

Right after Keith died, God was gracious enough to give me 5...yes 5...new friends who were widows.  I met these ladies in a variety of ways:  friend of friends.  Meeting with them was wonderful in those first months of loneliness, pain, confusion, etc., etc., etc.  They had only a few things in common:  the Lord, me, and the 300-lb gorilla of widowhood.

Realizing what a joy this is...and being of a sort of Julie-the-Cruise-Director mentality, I organized them to start meeting together.  Our times are mostly fellowship, but it is fellowship without the awkwardness.  We get each other. 

All of us have in our lives dear friends and family who want so badly to help, but are just not sure what to say, how to say it, how to be supportive.  They are not sure how to deal with us on this grief path.  And they have no idea how to lead us.

Sometimes you can almost see their inner turmoil.  Do I laugh at the jokes?  Will there be tears?  What is the proper response both she...and I...should make here?  What if she wants to talk about sex or dating?

It would be funny if it weren't so painful--for all involved.

Our group is called Travelers on a Different Journey.  We did not choose to be here, but we rest in God to get us through, trust in Him for all things, and lean on each other to guide the way.  The fellowship in the Lord is sweet, the people sweeter.  We have around 25 involved in the ministry.

My sweet friend Theresa, widowed 14 months before me, puts it this way, "I may not be able to pave a smooth road for you, but I can tell you where the potholes are so you can avoid them, or at least slow down."

And this group works!

It is never more evident than on a light like last night. 

We met for dinner at PF Changs (yum!).  One of the gals brought a friend, Wanda, who was widowed not quite a year ago who had not yet met the group of us.

Well, Wanda fit right in!  We gained a sister, and she gained a group of them.  I know that my journey will be a little sweeter for my association with her, and pray that hers will be as well by association with us.

Life is hard.  Sometimes it is harder.  But God is good and He is there every step of the way, to provide paving stones to smooth our path.

I am so thankful for my pavers!!

I pray you see the pavers He has provided along your journey.

And of course, that you know and trust the ultimate Paving Stone...Jesus Christ! 

I will give You thanks, for You answered me; You have become my salvation.  The stone the builders rejected has become the Cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. 

-- Psalm 118:21-23

Testimony Today

I gave a testimony at our church this morning:

Testimony 11-11-12

            Today, I am grateful for many things.

            First of all, today is Veteran’s Day, a day dedicated to those brave enough, devoted enough, to be willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of others.  I praise God for the men and women willing to be of service to their country, regardless of the cost.  There are many veterans in this room.  Thank you for your service to this great country of ours.

            Today is also my 17^th wedding anniversary.  Two days ago, Friday, was the 5^th anniversary of Keith’s graduation to Glory.

            Today, for me, is bittersweet…but mostly sweet.

            It is in this loss that our family has really learned to be grateful.  

            I have much to be grateful for in having been married to such a wonderful, Godly husband.  His Christian example has helped to make the boys and me into the people we are today, and his dedication to Christ and Christian principles have allowed us to go on without him…and even to thrive.

            I look around this congregation and see much to be grateful for as well. 

 

            Several of you were there on the day Keith and I married.  You have been with us since the beginning, welcoming each of our boys in succession, watching us grow and change with each passing year. 

            I see even more who have been there every step of the way since Keith’s death.

            In these past five years, the boys and I have confidently, consistently, completely felt your support and love.

            Whether it was Mother’s Day or birthday gifts, home and car repairs, or support for the boys as they become men, this congregation has listened to the Holy Spirit’s prompting and helped out my family.

            That’s what community is supposed to be…the church as described in Acts.

            I can never fully express what that means to me…and to them.

            Mostly, though, on this day I am grateful to a God who loves me in spite of my failings with a passion that I learn more of each day.  He holds me in the palm of His hand…and He always will.  He loves me enough to hone the rough edges…and to make glory out of my ashes.  He quite literally floors me with His love.

            I am thankful that in my grief and sorrow, He has not left me but instead has allowed me to grow ever closer to Him, being my Husband in a new and special way. 

            I have learned many lessons over the past 5 years.  Some of them have been painful; some of them have been very painful.  But the most important lesson my family and I have learned is that God is always there.  On the good days, on the bad days, in the middle of the night, on the road trips, as the boys grow.  Always.

            And I am grateful.  So, so grateful.

Five Years...Wow!

Five years ago today, my beloved husband journeyed on to Glory.

So much has changed in that time...yet so much has stayed the same.

When Keith died:

• there were no IPads and the IPhone was brand new
• we had not had an African American president
• Osama Bin Laden was still at large
• Haiti had not been severely damaged by an earthquake and Japan had not suffered a tsunami
• we had not suffered a good-sized earthquake in Northern Virginia
• Kosovo had not declared itself an independent country and been recognized as such
• Facebook, Twitter, and blogs were not commonly used by everyone and did not provide a major vehicle for communication
• the housing market was slipping but had not crashed

In our own family:

• I was still taller than all of my children
• we did not have a dog at all, much less two
• Jackson and Tanner could not read
• Alex did not play guitar and had no interest in being in the praise band
• we were not out for much of anything past 7:30 at night
• I did not get up at 5:00 to spend precious quiet time with Jesus every morning
• we did not have company at every holiday, and any time we could think of an occasion to have people over

Yet so many things have stayed the same:

• I am blessed and  privileged to still be able to homeschool my boys
• I live in the same home, the dream home Keith so lovingly painted with all 17 paint colors I wanted
• I have friends who have stuck by me for these five years, taking care of me and the boys, from the moment Keith died until now
• Our church continues to be a home and a haven, blessing us and allowing us to bless them
• God is still God - in His heaven, in control, in my corner, in my life...each and every day, and in each and every situation
• I am His beloved daughter and by His grace I can stand - each and every day

And because of these blessings...because of this God and His love for little old me, I can have survived these five years.

And, by His grace, I will survive many more. 

As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise You more and more.  My mouth will tell of Your righteous deeds, of Your saving acts all day long—though I know not how to relate them all. -- Psalm 71:14-15

Like Glue

Another lesson on perspective yesterday.  (Note to self:  all of life is really a lesson in perspective.)

I walked a few minutes later than I normally do and therefore got to talk to my friend Renee after Joel got on the bus.  Great conversation!  Love getting to know this sweet sister in Christ!

Before our conversation ended, Carol and the other Renee came up as well.  I got to introduce these precious women to each other (yay!)...and to invite Renee to our Bible study (here were walking examples in Carol and the other Renee of the ladies in our group)!

God is so gracious!

Before Keith died, this Martha-to-the-max probably would not have taken the time to get to know any of these women.  I would have been too focused on my schedule, my kids, my life.

Not on the greater community.

Now, none of my prior focuses were bad.  In fact, God gave me charge of those things to steward.  They were, and are, my primary responsibility.

But the world has gotten smaller and bigger at the same time since Keith died.  I can and should do more.

I see another call on my life...being glue.

I met Carol and the first Renee simply by walking.  We have lived just a couple blocks from each other for years, but met because of speaking to each other while walking.  I gained acquaintanceship with two sisters in Christ!

Now, due to walking (and my big mouth), they now know each other.  The community grows!

Christ had twelve intimates, but I don't see any evidence that He ever turned down getting to know another person.

I praise God that we can grow in community in the same way...simply by walking and being open to the people we meet along the way!

And this is love:  that we walk in obedience to His commands. As you have heard from the beginning, His command is that you walk in love. -- 2 John 1:6

A Matter of Perspective

The end of last week, the deputy who lives in our neighborhood stopped to tell us that, really, we should be walking on the other side of the street, against the traffic.  Today was the first day I tried it.

It is amazing what a difference ten or fifteen feet makes!

Hmm, that birds' egg blue trim is brighter than I thought it was.

Wow!  Those flower beds really look great!

Yuck!  That pothole sure is deep.

I saw new things, spoke to new people, on the "other" side.

It's all a matter of perspective.

Isn't all life like that...a matter of perspective?

Sometimes I need to look at things more closely to see what is really going on.

Why did he hit is brother?  Was it a ploy for attention...or some deeper issue?

Why am I feeling so out-of-sorts?  Do I need to take more me-time?

A new perspective can make a world of difference in the way I view my circumstances.  The things that bug me become small potatoes; the things I need to put more attention into come into focus.

All depending on how I look at them.

And the best perspective of all is...on my knees.

My days can be fraught with stress and confusion...and I have no human sounding board to help put me back into perspective.  That is when...especially...I need to turn to God to give me the perspective I need.  His is always perfect.

And I learned something else as well today.

Walking in this new way this morning, I had to keep reminding myself to cross the street.  I had to be diligent to avoid the old patterns.  I had to keep focusing on what was new and different, what new things I was seeing instead of the familiar, the old way.

How like me in my walk as well!  Keeping my eyes focused on the positive...on my Savior...makes all the difference.

Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming. -- 1 Peter 1:13

Walking Buddies

I am the analogy girl.  I see analogies in everything in life.  You may have guessed that.

Many of them lately come from my daily walks around the neighborhood.  Somehow it always relates to my "daily walk."

That's really pretty awesome, when you think about it.

I have some great walking buddies--two regulars and a sometimes addition.  Each of these precious women adds much to my life.  We have a great time walking and talking...often talking about heart-and-soul matters, sometimes praying together.

They are a tremendous blessing from God--all three of them.

Some days, though, the circumstances and busy-ness of life has me walking alone.

It is not bad to walk alone.  I am often quiet, listening to God.  And looking...always looking...for Him to speak through His creation to this analogy girl.

A morning last week was beautiful and balmy, with a breeze blowing (I also like alliteration).  I walked along, greeting the day and the others I normally see on the way (it's amazing how quickly we have fallen into the pattern of being part of the morning in our neighborhood).

I listened to the birds and felt the wind in my face...and talked to my Father.

Much of my lifewalk is a parallel to my 2.5 morning miles.

Sometimes I walk in community, and sometimes I face things without an earthy companion.  (Well, always without my favorite earthly companion...nearly 5 years now.)  Regardless, God walks by my side, guiding my steps, listening to my diatribes and my praises, supporting me and correcting me as I need it.

I am thankful for all my walking buddies--the morning ladies...and all who have made this widow walk so much easier.  I am thankful for the beautiful fall days, my neighborhood, my freedom.  I am thankful for God's constant intervention in my soul to point out the good in my world...and to cleanse the yucky parts to shining white. 

My morning walk is uphill in places, just as is my lifewalk.  Regardless, I know I am never truly alone, never facing things alone, regardless of the circumstances.

And that is a lot to be thankful for.

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.  -- Psalm 68:19

Daddy's Girl

There is a dad whom we see every morning walking whom we find intriguing.  He walks his middle school-age daughter to the bus stop each morning and waits with her for the bus.  Then he walks back to the house and drives off to work. 

I must admit that he has caused us to speculate.  Is there potential for trouble at the bus stop?  Is she a problem?  Has he a need to ride the bus?  All idle speculation, but I think born of a desire to understand, not gossip.

After watching him since the start of school, I have come to the realization that he is just a dad who loves his daughter.  He loves her enough to eke out each moment he can with her in the mornings, not letting his schedule get in the way of his love.  And that is beautiful!

Almost even cooler is the fact that she doesn't seem to mind.  She seems to enjoy her moments with her dad just as much, not copping a preteen attitude or acting embarrassed.  The mark of a close daddy-daughter relationship.  And that is beautiful, too!

I have a great dad.  I don't tell him enough, but I really do (yes, I am sending him this blog).  He is strong and brave and has had my heart from the time I was a little girl. 

He is the type of dad who would walk me to the bus stop, I am sure of it.

My dad has been my number one fan since I was a little girl, accepting me as a bright and capable person, and encouraging me to reach for the stars.  He has always been fun and funny, a fact that my children now appreciate as well. 

In fact, my dad is so wonderful that when I married Keith, I looked for qualities that were like my dad...decisive, bright, dedicated to family, loving and caring.

Because of a good relationship with my earthly father, it was easy to develop a relationship with my Heavenly Father.  And that has been crucial in this widow's walk.

From the beginning of this journey, I have crawled up in Daddy-God's lap, much like I climbed up in my daddy's lap, accepting His love and support, His direction in my life, His love and acceptance...much as I have always accepted these things from my daddy. 

That is a beautiful and special place to be all around.

And I cannot imagine my life without either one of them.

Praise be to the Lord God, the God of Israel, who alone does marvelous deeds.  Praise be to His glorious name forever; may the whole earth be filled with His glory.  Amen and Amen.  -- Psalm 72:18-19

Of Course I Will!

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus' name.

It has been one of those days.

I woke up with a headache.  I cried at the breakfast table because I felt unappreciated by my children.  I cried on my walk because Keith was not here.  He (usually) knew how to make me feel better when I was in one of these moods.

I walked along, tears flowing...whining to God (gotta be honest here).

I knew I was about to reach where Renee stands in the morning, waiting for the school bus with her charge.  I met Renee walking but found out she attends the same Wednesday night service I do.  I dried my tears and smiled.

"Good morning, Renee!"

"Hi, Liz.  How are you this morning?"

"Fine, thanks!  How about you?"

"Good, thanks."

"Great!  Have a good day!"

And I walked a few more steps.

Then God spoke to me in my spirit.  Nope.  Own in.  Go back.  Tell her.

So, swallowing my pride, I broke stride from my walking and went back.

"Actually, that's not entirely true.  I am having one of those mornings.  Will you please pray for me?"

With a big hug, Renee said, "Bless your heart!  Of course I will!"

And I walked on, feeling better.  Provision!

I could now hear the birds singing.  I even found a quarter...that will go in the missions box the boys and I are currently filling.  I smiled at the others I normally see and speak to on my walk.  My world had tilted back in the right direction.

My morning was just some of life's "light and momentary troubles" (2 Corinthians 4:17).  They happen to us all.  Jesus promised they would.

I am thankful for a God who is gracious enough to put people in my path (literally) for the times when I need them.  And I am thankful that He knows I sometimes need that extra little push to take what He has so graciously given to me.  Sometimes, it is just a matter of me looking beyond myself  As I reflected on this, I could see many blessings in my life, things that had been hidden from me as my thoughts circled myself instead of the bigger picture.

At the end of my walk today, I ran into my sometimes-walking-buddie Carol.  We greeted each other and she asked how I was.  And I could honestly tell her that I am doing...OK.

Praise God!

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.  -- John 16:33

Crows vs. Hawks

On my daily walk the other day, I heard...long before I saw...a murder of crows harassing a hawk.  (Yes, I looked that up.  That is what you call them.  Word lesson for today completed.)

Oh, they were really giving it to him--circling round and round, cawing away.  He gave them  a couple of shrill cries in return, but they were really dominating.

As I watched the exchange, I realized that I could see myself in that scene.  And sometimes I am the crows...and sometimes I am the hawk.

I can be a fuss-er.  I sometimes get focused on something and worry it to pieces.  Whether it is finances, or boy behavior, or the cleanliness of my house (or lack thereof), I get hold of an idea and won't let go.  Like the crows, I fuss and fume.  I try to bully the ideas, pushing and shoving them into what I think they should look like. I continue the harassment, regardless of the facts, and God's plan...seeing threats where there probably aren't any.  Sometimes I even find my own "murder" to fuss with me.

Sometimes, however, in my better moments, I'd like to think I am the hawk.

Sometimes I doggedly maintain my God-directed course, taking the attacks as they come, and maintaining my place in the sky, like this hawk was.  I don't see the harassment and obstacles--whatever form they may take--but stay the course.  When the opportunity presents itself, I, like the hawk, cry out my side of the story, but from a position of calm statement, not from a position of stressed excitement.  This hawk calmly held his position, and so do I--or at least I try.

So why am I not able to be more hawk-like all the time?  Why do I take that drift toward the stressful group-think of a murder of crows, seeing threats everywhere, real and imagined?

Usually it is because I have taken my eyes off the Ruler of the Skies...if I may be so bold as to give Him a name like that.

I get freaked out and stirred up when I don't spend enough time with the Lord...in prayer, reading His Word, seeing things from His perspective.

I also get in a tizzy when I choose to be around the murder instead of alone with the Lord.  Oh, I am not discounting the value of good friends...not by any means!  But we all need to be careful of miserable comforters.  Time alone with the Lord can get me soaring again instead of squawking.

May I find those moments today!

Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary. -- Isaiah 40:31-32 (NASB)

The Importance of Being

I have a dear friend walking her days with a very serious illness.  No one but God knows what the outcome will be.

Sitting with her this week, she had a lot of questions for me...about Keith's last months and days.  She is exploring and preparing for what may be. 

I knew the questions were coming.  I knew she was thinking.  I was blessed to be able to share.  Keith would approve, too.  He loved this dear woman, too. 

The talk went fairly smoothly...not too many tears from either of us.  I told her some things that the average person does not know about that last day...some even my family does not know.  That day was hard, personal, and very private in some ways.

This dear, sweet, Christian lady told me again and again that she is not sure what she is supposed to do.  She said she keeps asking God, but is just not sure what to do.  I gave her some answer, but felt there was more to say.

I have thought about that statement all week and have come to some conclusions, which I am sharing with you all...and with her.

Sometimes being is enough.

We are go-getters, especially as Americans, I think.  We feel that we need to be doing, acting all the time.  I think part of it comes from all the opportunities we have here...constant entertainment, work, activities for ourselves and our families.

It is hard for us to be still and know that He is God.  But sometimes that is all we can do.

Be still.  Know.

This precious lady is in the palm of God's hand.  He has her.  He has this illness.  He will heal her -- this side of Heaven or that.  In that she can rest and just be.

She can be other things, too, even from her sick bed:  wife, mother, grandmother, friend, sister.

The bottom line is that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow.  None. 

I have a couple dear friends who lost their spouses in the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan.  They had more of an inkling, perhaps, that something could happen.  I have other friends whose spouses took some sort of a trip (fishing or to the dump) and never came back.  Others faced longer sickness, multiple tests, lingering, and finally failing, hope of healing here on earth.

That is life here.  Death happens.  To some sooner than others.  To some with more warning than others.  To all eventually.

We all face the life-and-death questions that this sweet sister faces, whether we realize it or not.

This is not scary...or shouldn't be.  God's got it.  He is in control.  His Word says that again and again.

And sometimes all we can do is be...and the most important thing we can be is His child.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

Mousetraps

This morning I saw a mouse run across my kitchen floor.  I literally heard the little scampering feet and looked up to see a little dark streak out of the corner of my eye.

My first reaction was to fuss at Dakota, who was not 6 feet from there, dozing while I did my Bible study.  She should be reacting to this little invader.  She surely reacts strongly enough to every random car and child on a bicycle that comes near the house.

Next, I stalked the little critter to see if I could tell where he had gone. Alas, no luck!  I also had no shoes on, if he did run out at me.  Yes, I would stomp him if I could.  Bloodthirsty or no, he has invaded my territory and the gloves are off.  He's going down!

So, I pulled out my box of mouse-eliminating paraphernalia.  Oh, I have some of everything!  Old fashioned, standard mousetraps, and glue traps of various shapes and sizes.  (I don't do poison because of dogs and children.)  They are now placed in some strategic locations.

Then I started looking for the why of the situation.  Is there spilled food somewhere that I missed that is attracting him?  I checked in the pantry and then headed to the garage.  Sure enough, I found a ton of dog food on the floor behind the dog food container.  Note to self:  find a better way for the 5-year old to dip up the dog food.  I cleaned up the dog food and went back to my Bible study.

I probably should have been more prepared, had my traps out already.  It is fall and we have had some cooler days.  Inevitably this time of year, some furry critter is foolish enough to try to find hospitality at the Wright house.  And, inevitably, he never makes it out alive.  I am determined here.  I don't want those nasty creatures in my home, touching my stuff.

But am I this determined when it comes to keeping out the nastiest creature of all -- Satan?

Y'all, I had a whole blog post prepared for this morning.  Reading back over it, it was a bit...whiny.  I know that days like this come, that they are part of life here on this rock, especially in grief, but do I need to wallow in them?

I had been unprepared for the Creature scurrying in under cover of night whispering yuckies in my ear...and he is the one who is in charge of the night!  I should have expected him.  I should have been better prepared to handle the situation, both before and after.  That negative poison is no good for me...and certainly is not good to spew out and pass on in this venue.

In my personal Bible study this morning, I was reading toward the end of the book of Nehemiah.  The remnant who had returned rebuilt the wall in record time, and they praised God for that, but they still had some concerns...chiefly, their brothers and sisters still in captivity.

Know what they did?  They spent time rereading to the assembly the Word of God and retelling the God story they had been given.

My God story over the past nearly-five years could fill a book...in fact, I hope to do just that.

God has been there, there, there!  By recounting that story, remembering all the times He has taken care of me, held me up, saved me from the darkness that could envelope me...I can be free of it.

But it is all about choice.

I have to be prepared, then be ready to take action...away from Satan and toward God. 

God can handle my bad days.  After all, He knew they were coming.  In His word, He says "in this world you will have trouble" (John 16:33).  But He also says to take heart, for He has overcome the world.

So my whining will be replaced by rejoicing.  It could be much worse than it is.  Those negative thoughts, that whiny-ness serves no purpose.  I can acknowledge the tough days to God and move on.

The ugly little thoughts are going down, just like the critter in my house.  I am determined!

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. - Proverbs 3:5

A Tale of Two Gifts

This week I got two precious gifts of flowers.

My sweet friend Shari, knowing that Keith's birthday had just passed, and knowing that gifts are my love language, sent a wonderful dozen multicolored roses. They grace my kitchen counter in their full array, seeming to burst further open each day, yet staying fresh and lovely.  As I looked this morning, their centers are actually starting to show, they have opened so far...yet not a petal has fallen.  They are some of the prettiest roses I have ever received.  They make me smile just looking at them. 

The other gift was much different...but equally as sweet.  A four-year old girl came with her mom for the first time to Bible study.  As she left her house, she picked a clover from her front yard, and told her mom she wanted to take it to "Mrs. Liz."  When she arrived, she shyly presented me with her gift, and we found a vase to put it on my kitchen counter.  This sweet little clover is one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.

It seems to be a week for me to receive gifts...and God has been no exception.

I have been studying the gift of manna to the Israelites this week, and this gift has a special meaning to me.

God's provision and His grace floor me...quite literally.

A few weeks after Keith died, a woman called me to come do a security investigation on one of my neighbors for his new government-related job.  This is a pretty routine thing in our area.  As we were talking about my neighbor and the family, I talked about how they had been assisting me since Keith had died, which I found to be a strong indicator of their character and beliefs.

The woman asked me if I was a believer and we started talking about things that were a lot more important than Chris's security clearance.

She told me the story of her church, which had been going through a really rough time and had lost a couple young members of the congregation.  Her preacher had preached on manna as part of his messages of healing, and about God's grace wrapped up in that manna each morning. 

For the Israelites, there was always enough manna for each morning.  Whether they collected a little or a lot, when they measured the amount, it was always enough to meet their needs.  Not extra, not some to save for tomorrow, but always enough.  As long as they tried, it was enough.

As a result of our conversation...and her promise to pray for me, I am sure...I started mentally picking up my manna for the day each morning as I nursed baby Tanner.

And I got by. 

More than that...we continued to thrive as a family.  The manna was enough.

I get asked all the time, "How do you do it?"

The answer is daily reliance on my Savior.  In my own strength I cannot do this.  Not for a day.  Not for an hour.  Probably not for a minute.

In my own strength, I am short-tempered, sometimes mean, and often whiny.

I do not do this in my own strength.

Every day, I am in nearly constant communication with my Lord...through His Word; through His people; through prayer; through uplifting music; through wise words from books, devotions, and sermons.

And it is enough.

The manna has always, always, always been there.

And I know it always will be.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. - James 1:17

Duct Tape, Anyone?!

Yesterday at Alex's soccer game, I made a mom-of-teen faux pax.

He was the goalie, the ball passed by on the outside of the goal (good for his team), and headed toward the road...where there was a car coming.

I couldn't help it.  Before I knew it, out of my mouth comes, "Watch the car, Alex!"

He shot me a look that said, "Really, Mom?!"

The other parents around me tittered.  They knew I had blown it...and that I would hear it from my teen.

They were right.  He told me later that I had thrown off his game, and that he missed the next shot that came to him at goal because he was afraid what would be coming out of my mouth.  He also told me he would be keeping duct tape on hand in case I lost control again...and that he would leave the field and come use it.

I believe him.  He was steamed...and embarrassed.

I slunk away mentally, properly chastised.

In my own defense, I still have a 5- and a 7-year old.  I have to say that a lot still.

My little ones in particular seem to pay no attention, skipping (Jackson literally) through life, regardless of the dangers that may be there.

It is aggravating and frustrating.  I feel like they should know by now to look both ways...not play with scissors...stop fighting or someone will get hurt...not tip the chair.  I also feel like they should know to flush, to wash their hands, to bus their dishes at the end of the meal...on and on.

Sometimes I correct them patiently.  Sometimes not.

But you know what I have discovered?

God, as my Parent, has to do the same thing with me.

In some ways it is exactly the same as when I correct my kids.  I sometimes do the equivalent eye roll at the King of the Universe, thinking I know better than He.  I threaten and cajole, trying to get my sinful way, even though His "no" has been very clear.  I pout.  I whine.  I act like a total stinker.

But...in some ways, this Parent-child relationship is markedly different.

God does not lose control with me.  He has high expectations of me, to be sure, but He does not have humanness to get in the way of the discipline...or the praise.  He treats me with love always, regardless of what I have done, but corrects me each and every time I need it (which is a lot, let me tell you).  He gives me the wings to soar when I need to, and hold me in His lap when I fail, encouraging me to try again.

Just this morning, I had a conversation with a dear friend whose wife is ill.  I told him about pouting to God and telling Him, the God of the Universe, that I could not handle raising these kids on my own, that I must have Keith here to help me.

Some days I have felt like a failure in the area of parenting (see above...) and some days I have felt like I am doing OK.  Regardless, God is there to correct me, reprimand me, guide me...but above all support me on this journey.  No ego on His part, no 'tude being sported, no forgetting what I am capable of...and no mistakes.

May I follow that model as I raise my own children!

But, just in case, I'm headed to the store for a roll of duct tape for Tuesday's game.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.  For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight.- Ephesians 1:2b-4

"Love you, too!"

I never realized how much I would miss saying, "I love you."

Sure, I still say it to my kids and my parents.  (Well, I text it to my teenager - he seems to like it better in that form.)

But the person I said it to most was Keith.

We would say it at least once in every conversation.

We were actually quite silly about it, now that I look back on it.

Our conversations went like this:  I love you.  You.  You.  You.  You.  You.....You.....You............You...............You.....................You......................You.

Now I have to content myself with new ways to say "I love you"....and to receive them.

My sweet friend Tammy is big about saying it.  Many conversations we have, she ends with "love you."  I respond back, "love you, too."

And I do love her.  She is a good friend and a good neighbor.  She is a blessing in my life.  I am happy that she tells me that she loves me, and I am happy to tell her.

It is a word we don't use enough in general language.  Oh sure, we use it for TV shows, coffee, new clothes...but that is not where it is really appropriate (well, maybe for coffee...nah, not even coffee). 

But do we use it to tell those in our lives who mean a lot to us how we feel?  That we get that they are a gift from God and that we appreciate that gift?

So...I am freer now with the I-love-you's.  I tell all my friends and family that I love them.  (If I haven't gotten to you yet, know it's coming!)  I end emails and texts with "love you" or "luv ya" or xoxoxoxo -- or all of it! 

Time is short.  I don't know how many opportunities I will still have to say "I love you."  Things can change in an instant.  So my view is say it often, say it with truth and meaning, make it count.  You don't know how much someone needs to hear it. 

I know I need to hear it.

And God knows that, too.  He tells me a million times in a million ways that He loves me.  My soul hears the words and glories in them. 

- The sun is shining gloriously today.  God saying, "I love you!"

- My children are healthy, happy, and well fed.  God saying, "I love you!"

- We have had a good first week of school.  God saying, "I love you!"

- My seven-year old is making connections in Bible learning that are amazing.  God saying, "I love you!"

On and on, over and over, His love shines in all I do, all I see, all I can be.
 
I  bask in His grace!  Little ole sinful me is loved by the God of the universe!  Mind-blowing, when you think about it.

And I love Him, too.  May I always express to my Lord just how much He means to me -- in all that I am and all that I do!

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. - Psalm 52:8
 

Iceberg Emotions

The other day we went downtown to visit the National Archives.  We saw the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  Very moving.

I cried, unashamedly.

My boys think I am silly, especially when I cry in public.  They thought so that day.  Even the friends we were with did not totally understand the depth of the emotions I was feeling. 

Neither did I.  It just hit me--the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this document coming to be.  The hours of intense living that went into the whole idea of freedom.  The greatness of a God who allowed a little upstart group of people to have Providence.

The guard told me that lots of people cry.  He said, "It's your declaration.  It's your country."

Amen!

I feel that way about my grief journey.

I feel that way about my life journey.
 
The American Indian proverb says, "Never criticize a man until you've walked a mile in his moccasins." (I looked it up to make sure I got the wording right.)

I still cry over Keith.  Not every day.  Not in predictable places and at predictable times.  I may always cry at those unpredictable times.

It's my declaration.  It's my grief.

It's not that I am ignoring the grieving.  I have waded in with both arms open and have embraced it.  It is just a long, involved process.  Like learning to walk again...or run...after an amputation.

It's not that I am weak.  I just have these tears God gave me, this pain God gave me.  I am not wallowing in it.  Embracing is not wallowing...at least it doesn't have to be.  I am exploring, testing, growing, changing -- all because of this pain.  And I thank God that He loves me enough to give me this chance to refine off some hard edges and become even more His child. 

We all have stuff we are going through...we are all on a journey.  Mine just happens to be a grief journey.  But we are all being refined in the fire.

We just have to allow ourselves to be refined.  And that sometimes is the hardest part of the journey of all.

Another old saying says, "God loves us just the way we are, but too much to let us stay that way."

Praise be to God!

Even for the Refiner's fire...especially for it!

For you, O God, tested us; You refined us like silver.  You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs.  You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but You brought us to a place of abundance. - Psalm 66:10-12
 

Thanks for the Memories

We sold our first house to friends.  It is in the neighborhood over.

Today I dropped Matthew off there for a birthday party.

Even after 6 1/2 years, it is still a tiny bit odd to be in the house.

It is not that it is still home -- it truly isn't.  It's just that it was home.

We brought 2 babies home from the hospital to there.  Three learned to walk there.  We celebrated our 10-year anniversary there.  It is flooded with memories, even though the colors are not the same and the furniture is in different places (just as it should be).

And somehow that makes me...just a little sad.

I drove away and off to run errands...missing Keith.

My memories of there are ALL with him.  We bought the house together and worked on it together.  It was the first either of us owned.

I am a creature of habit, I know I am.  I would make a good blind person, as I never move my furniture.  When I think of repainting, it is not to change the color but to touch up what was already there.

I think that makes my grief just a little harder at times.  I want to fall back and cling to the past.  I fight the rut.

But God loves me enough to kick me in my complacency on a regular basis.  He is there to pick me up after He does, but He does not let me wallow, He does not let me dwell.

My dear friend and fellow widow Theresa puts it in terms of the rearview mirror.  We all have one in our cars because it is important to know what is going on behind you.  We have to be able to move from in front of the fire engine or know when to stop for the police car.  But we cannot spend too much time looking behind.  If we do, we will inevitably get in an accident.  The focus of our lives has to be in front -- where we are going, not where we have been.

I finished my errands and headed back home -- the dream house we built a year and a half before Keith died.  More good memories.  But not all these memories involve Keith.  I have lived twice as long in this house without him as I lived with him.

Oh, the evidence of him is still all around.  The man painted 17 -- yes, 17 -- colors of paint here for me.  We still refer to "Daddy's closet" and "Dad's dresser."  But there are things here he never did see -- including one currently-barking dog, and another currently-whining dog.

But somehow, after all the living here, the memories with and without Keith all have a place and are...just right.  We miss him here, but feel close to him here as well.

I'll tell you a secret.  The day we closed on this house, my big, strong, Marine husband cried.  He felt so blessed by God to have this home, and so thankful to my mom for providing for us even after her death so that we could.

I am still blessed - to live here, to have been provided for equally well in death by Keith, to be able to continue to homeschool my boys...to live among the memories, and to have the freedom to create new ones.

I guess the suddenness of the onslaught of memories got me at the old house, and I started looking a little too much into my rearview mirror.  Now, I am back on track, glancing in it periodically, but firmly looking forward as I travel forward in my life...blessed...so, so blessed.

You hem me in behind and before, and You lay Your hand upon me.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. - Psalm 139:5-6

Stoned or Walled In?

The Lord tears down the house of the proud, but he sets the widow’s boundary stones in place.- Proverbs 15:25

I read this verse earlier this week and it struck me.  I thank God every day that He maintains my boundary stones.

Today it happened again.  This verse became real as God upheld my boundary stone...in the form of my wall.

This morning I stepped out of my bedroom and felt water on the carpet.

Living in the house I do--with the people and animals I do--I bent down to smell the floor and make sure it was really water.  (It was.)

Then I realized we could be facing quite a conundrum here.  Especially since I had just been spending time in prayer with God discussing the schedule for the next few days and how tight it would be.

God is forever setting my boundary stones in place as far as my time. 

That's because I really, really, really need it.

I have once again over-committed our family, which inevitably leads to stress and confusion.

When I get these checks from God it simply makes me prioritize my life better.  He is looking out for me, and keeps my boundaries in place by the way He pushes me to move at times.

So...blessing number one:  the water was simply overflow from the drip pan on the A/C in the attic.  My neighbor Jeff was home this morning and snaked it for me and cleared out the clog.  He also told me to dump in some bleach to clean out the gunk in there.  Easy for me to do.  

Blessing number two:  looking at the complicated nature of our schedule, my oldest graciously decided to not attend the lock-in at church tonight so that my stress level is down--no fussing, no complaining, totally gracious.  He continues to surprise me with his maturity!  What a blessing he is!

Blessing number three:  even in this, I did not lose control, stress out, or fuss at anyone (too much)--real progress for me.  (My children were so impressed they gave me a round of applause.)

My boundary stones are in place!  God acted, changed me, refined me some, and it wasn't even too painful.

Praise God for His indescribable gift!

Of MRIs and Blessings

Yesterday I had the opportunity--and blessing--to help a fellow widow.  I sat with her pretty little daughter while she had an MRI on her knee (poor thing).

When the nurse brought her back out, she asked Friday if she needed help getting back out to the car.

Friday said, "No, my friend is here with my daughter."

It warmed my heart.

First of all, I was that widow with young ones who needed this sort of help not that long ago.  I needed people to stay with the boys for the doctors' appointments, the social events, and the Christmas shopping.  I had so many people bless me, and it was a privilege to serve another as I had been served.

I also couldn't help but be blessed that we are friends in the first place.

We probably would not have met this side of Heaven, had we not both been on this journey in life.

We call our widows/widowers ministry Travelers on a Different Journey.  It is not a journey we would have volunteered for, by any means. 

But God, in His infinite wisdom and supreme grace, has allowed us to journey this path together. 

It means more than I can tell you to have so many friends who "get it." 

Don't get me wrong...all of my friends have been wonderfully supportive over the past nearly-five years.  And they have walked this strange, long, twisting journey with me, involving themselves in my pain.

But I am not always sure they get my joy. 

Sometimes I see in their eyes an accounting of the cost of my new joys...things that would not have happened but for the loss of Keith...and they don't really see how that adds up to joy. 

But my Travelers friends do.  Life takes on a new intensity after tragedy, and maybe especially after this tragedy.  Half of me has been ripped away, but yet I continue...not just to survive, but to...thrive.

When I watched Oscar Pistorius run in the Olympics a few weeks ago, I saw joy.  I saw a man taking what life had given him and using that very thing to catapult him forward...quite literally.

I cried, not only because he did well, and that was amazing, but also because of the look on his face.  I could identify with the intensity I saw there...intensity for his running, not as a man with no legs...but as a man with a dream.  He found joy in his journey.

And in this life, I am finding mine.  Moment by moment.  Through trials.  Because of trials.

Praise God!

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. - James 1:2-4

Confessions of a Possible Hoarder

I just felt the need to clean out my makeup case. 

Never mind that we have to leave the house in half an hour.

(And if you are reading this post and wondering what possible purpose there is in blogging right now, I am wondering the same thing...but the words came, so here you go.)

As my sister would say, "Go with the urge."

We grew up in a family whose love language was gifts.

Okay, my mom was probably a hoarder.  My sister is now saying, "No maybe about it."

Therefore, whenever I feel the need to purge, she is right there with me, encouraging me.

When she purges, she brings it to my house, but that's a story for another time.

As I sit here scraping years of makeup gunk from the bottom of the storage box I have (for those who know me, you are correct in assuming that the box is rather large--I am not a lipstick chicken!), I wonder at scraping the gunk from my soul.

Do I purge there when I need to?

I just tossed dibs and dabs of my favorite eye makeup of yesteryear.  Do I take stock of where I am in my spiritual walk and throw away the old dibs and dabs of self-doubt that I used to enjoy clinging to?

I threw away the eye liners that were so short they could not even be sharpened again.  Do I toss out pieces of me that are ineffective and not as spiritually sharp as they should be?

I let go of mascara that is so old they no longer make it.  Do I let go of old hurts and habits in favor of new and more soul-pleasing ones?

I hope so.

I hope I can make changes in me that will not leave me with a gunky mess at the bottom of my soul.  I hope I can start fresh and clean, leaving the guilt and pain of the past, the bad habits and sinful ways.

I get a sense of accomplishment and maybe even a little joy when I get cleaning jobs done.  I pray that I feel the same with my eternal cleaning plan--now and always.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:  The old has gone, the new is here!- 2 Corinthians 5:17

Gifts of Mercy(Me)

I don't know how they do it, but the guys who write for MercyMe must be looking into my life.

If you are unfamiliar with this Christian band, they have beautiful, soulful lyrics which have touched me deeply on this journey.

When Keith died, we did a slide show for the funeral.  The sweet friend who compiled it used two MercyMe songs in the background.  These two songs epitomize the way I feel about not only Keith's graduation to Glory but also how I feel about being left here.  We think about Heaven and talk about Heaven, but now half of me (often I think the better half of me) is there experiencing it.  It takes a lot of the mystery and inevitable fear of the journey not yet taken away from that place for me...and for the boys.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ywDqzvKvvI (Homesick)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_lrrq_opng ( I Can Only Imagine)

As I continued on this journey of widowhood and single parenthood, another MercyMe song deeply touched me.  In the busy-ness of my life, I found little time to just be...to be a daughter of the King, blessed and highly favored.  The words of this song I have played nearly weekly since it came out to recapture my lost self, my inner beauty, and my joy at being who I am in Christ.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vh7-RSPuAA (Beautiful)

This is not a journey for the faint-at-heart, but it is a journey that, by the awesome and all-encompassing grace of our Lord, is very do-able.  I cling to the good that has happened in my life--the joys that have been brought to us by the fact that we have had the opportunity to be cradled in the lap of the Lord and washed by His healing hands as we journey this road.  To Him be the glory.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8HgAVenbUU (Bring the Rain)

And even today, may we never fail to help others find the joy we have found.  May we help them on their own journeys as well so that they can experience His healing touch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xzaivDbu9c  (The Hurt and the Healer)

Amen and amen!

I am a Four-Eyed Freak

Now I don't just have two eyes, Mom...I have FOUR!  I can see even better!

Ah, the perspective of a child!

Matthew had just gotten his first pair of glasses and this momma was worried.  How would he adjust to them?  Would he feel...different?

I needn't have worried.  He did feel different...and he was...glad.

When I found out we had lost Keith, the first words out of my mouth were, quite literally, "I'm a widow."

The reality of that did not hit me at that moment.  Well, maybe on some levels.  But not as fully as it later did.

Now, nearly five years later, I can truly tell you that I am...glad.

I know that sounds odd.  How can having your heart ripped out, your life ripped apart, be something that makes you glad?

Ah, my friends, therein lies the mystery of God.

Today a dear friend of mine prayed for me as we were ending a play date..."Lord, help her to feel You as her Husband, first and foremost, above all others, all she needs."

Mostly I feel that--feel God as my Husband.  Mostly I count my blessings more than my stresses, my joys more than my sorrows.

If you know me, you know me to be a glass-is-half-full kinda gal.

Thank God I am!

But it is a choice, one I have to make on a daily basis, sometimes a minute-by-minute basis.

Like my sweet Matthew, I choose to look at my lot in life as a gift and not a stress, a way to help me see better...

To see my Lord!

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. - 2 Corinthians 2:17-18

Smack Between the Eyes

Not everyone is going to do a job the same as everyone else.  I got that reminder big-time this past week.

I was watching someone work.  She does things much differently than I do.  Not incorrectly, but certainly differently.

As I was watching, another friend came up and commented on how he appreciated what she does.

I gotta say it.  Inwardly, I snorted.  Self-righteous little piglet that I am.

Then I got to thinking.

How often on this journey of grief have people snorted at me!

Stop homeschooling - you need more time to yourself!

Not dating yet?

You gotta take care of that right away!

You should..._________!  (fill in the blank)

With prayerful consideration, I am doing things the way I feel I should be.  Well-meaning though others may be, sometimes they cross the line, in my opinion. 

I don't think they mean to hurt me or doubt my abilities...but sometimes that is just how it comes across.

Here comes the 2x4...I have done the same thing.

Shame on me!

Forgive me, Lord, for not trusting that You have given people certain jobs and certain circumstances to have their unique flair put into the work.  Forgive me, Lord, for looking down my nose at them.  Help me extend to them the grace that I expect to be extended to me.

And...forgive me, friend, for doubting you and not accepting your way of doing things.

I always thank my God for you because of his grace given you in Christ Jesus. For in Him you have been enriched in every way—with all kinds of speech and with all knowledge — God thus confirming our testimony about Christ among you. - 1 Corinthians 1:4-5

Manna to this Momma

God's got it.  I know that.  He has shown in so many ways, and in so many instances!  I have faith in Him.

But sometimes in my heart of hearts, I wonder how He will work it out.

Today, I got a bit of an answer.

My dear friend Lorie had my little two over to play at her house with her youngest.  They were playing Playmobil and had invented a game with families.  Jackson was the dad, and Lorie started listening.  Did he get it?  Did he understand the dad role?

Praise God, he did!  She said he was the proper mix of kind and strong and firm and loving.  He gets being a dad, even though he was 2 1/2 when his dad died.

Now, I will take very little credit for how he learned the dad role.  I certainly don't act the part "dad" but stick to "mom."  It would not be a real representation of dads anyway, nor of moms.

My oldest steps up and acts the dad a bit, being a very loving big brother, especially with the little two.

I think, though, mostly Jackson has seen it modeled around him, and for that I am so grateful.  Men at church have taken all the boys under their wing and modeled Biblical manhood for them.  Neighbors and friends have allowed them to help them build things, fix things, take care of the house.  They have talked endlessly about sports and guns and "guy stuff."  They are crucial to me surviving as a single mom.

Even in a world where dads are often ridiculed as dumb, unnecessary, or irrelevant (look at most TV dads), the men around us are coming out of their comfort zones and away from their own busy home life to work with my boys.  My guys are getting what they need to be dads themselves some day.  The gap is being filled.

God's got it, and I don't have to worry.

And that is certainly manna to this momma's heart.

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.- Ephesians 3:20-21

The T-Shirts We Wear

Americans surely have a love affair with their t-shirts.

They express loyalty:  to sports teams, universities, and causes.  They express belonging:  to families (and reunions), a variety of special interests, and teams.  They express fondness and memories:  to old TV characters, favorite sayings and scriptures, and trips taken.

In my house, we have a plethora of t-shirts that show all the different rec teams my guys have been on.  The standard souvenir when we have been on a trip is a t-shirt.  All the boys have t-shirts with my alma mater (Go Hokies!).  We also have a variety of t-shirts for the Nationals, Yankees, Giants, and Colts.

I had a conversation this morning with a dear friend about the t-shirts we should wear.

You see, she has had hard stuff in her life, too.  She lives with cancer, and has for more than 14 years.  She is doing well, the doctors say.  She is a survivor.  And I think she is amazing.

But she shared with me that sometimes she would like to have a bio to pass out, rather than to retell the story.  She would rather not deal with the pity -- or the label.  She would rather wear the t-shirt I Have Cancer, But I'm Still Here than to go through the whole, drawn-out explanation. 

I get that.  Some days I am ready to share my life and my story; some days I am not.

Some days, I see myself wearing a t-shirt that says Widow with Four Children - Don't Judge Me, Just Love Me.  That way, I don't have to go through the story or the pity, either.  And I might not have to explain being a little...off.

Other days, I am more ready to wear a t-shirt that says Ask Me My Story...See God in Action!  Or, I'm Not Superwoman, But My God Is Superman!  I am ready and eager to share what God has done and is doing in my life and the lives of my kids.

I guess my point is this:  I am more than the label, more than the momentary t-shirt I wear.  In my humanness I often miss the mark of representing Who I love the most.  And I need to ask Him to forgive me for that.

I have the opportunity--and the responsibility, I believe--to rise beyond my circumstances and be a living example of my God.  I am the sum total of all I have been through and all I will go through, but, most importantly, how I have responded to these things.

And as such, the t-shirt I strive to wear is this:  God's Child, Wholly and Completely!

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be My witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. - Acts 1:8

Waste Not, Want Not

How many of us have heard that old analogy?  Waste not, want not.

I know my mom used to quote it to me regularly in relation to the food on my plate.

But do we think of this analogy in relation to our spiritual life...to our pain and sorrow?

When Keith died there was, obviously, pain -- pain galore.  Deep, abiding pain, that put a pall on everything for a time.

But God is not a God of waste.  In His economy, it is ALL for good, it is ALL usable, it is ALL glorious.

Waste not, want not.

You only have to look at the way the world works together to see that this is true. 

Forest fires cause destruction, but also allow for elements to be added to the soil, and for the undergrowth to see the light of day.

Should it be any wonder to us that our grief is the same?

In the greater community, I am able to be an example, a light, a hand to reach out to another -- if I take up the challenge that is before me.  I am able to use the lessons learned to show my children, my friends, and others around me the power and awesomeness of our Lord.

Waste not, want not.

Also implied in this statement is that if we waste what we have been given, we will be wanting.

If I had curled in a corner when Keith died and stayed there, I would have missed so much along the way.

Closer relationships, including with God Himself.  Revival in our hearts and in our church.  Beauty out of the ashes.  All precious, precious gifts!

And so, for as much as it hurts, I would not have traded this journey for the world.  Even if I could have Keith back.

Waste not, want not.

Amen and amen! 

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. - Romans 8:28

It's Not in the Owner's Manual...or is it?

So what I thought on my car was no big deal is really a need for a MAJOR REPAIR or...(gulp!)...a NEW CAR.  Sigh.

Blessedly, this is not a right away need, but a near future need.  So I have time...to think.  Thank the Lord, because something like this takes time for me.  What I know about cars could fit on their dipstick and still register as add oil (total pun intended, since that is where my car problem lies).  This puts me at a definite disadvantage when stuff like this happens.

 I have to take it slow to figure out what to do, to make the right decision.  I have already asked the advice of a couple of my "car guy" friends and plan to ask a couple more.  Thank God for Steve and Craig and Diana's brother and Billy and George!  I have researched on the internet this problem with my car and found out what others have done and what it cost.  Beyond that, I am praying...and praying...and praying.

This kind of stuff is not in a manual...and I think it is natural to fear making a mistake.  There is no definite answer, but various opinions.  Fix or cut my losses and run?  Keep the big gas guzzler or downsize a bit?  Buy new or buy used?

And in my prayers so far I have come to one definite conclusion:

God's got it.

And...maybe the answer is in the BIG Manual--His Holy Word.

In it, I have learned a lot that can apply:

Rather than lament that Keith is not here...
Remember that I have a Counselor even wiser (John 14:16-17).

Rather than worry about the skills that I don't have...
Remember that other members of the body have other skills which they are graciously sharing with me (1 Corinthians 12).

Rather than bemoan my having to handle this on my own...
Remember that God has a special providence for widows (Exodus 22:22).

Rather than stress and worry...
Remember that God has a plan for my life (Jeremiah 29:11) and His admonitions on worrying (Matthew 6:25-34).

In Him and because of Him, I can get through everything...not just car stresses.

But I could use a few prayers from you all as well.  ;-)

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. - Romans 8:28