Class of 2021

It's hard to fathom, as you look at your squirming, bewildered newborn, that they will not always be tiny and helpless. Making a connection between this little stocking-capped person who can curl up in the crook of your arm and the lanky teenager smelling up your house isn't one easily made. And while my children are still quite young, the ways in which they have grown both delight and depress me. Simply put, they are growing up, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Case and point: Kindergarten graduation. Seriously, who came up with this? Someone who exacts emotional revenge on parents of five- and six-year olds, that's who. Is the growth chart on the bathroom wall not enough of a reminder that this precious, chubby person would rather watch High School Musical than Backyardigans, which WAS her favorite show until she left the soft, sweet cocoon of preschool? Do you just enjoy watching me in pain?!?

All drama aside, Li'l G did, in fact, graduate from Kindergarten today. Given the recent events in my family, as you can read from the previous post, my emotions have been maintaining the red-line area for a couple of weeks, so I was determined to keep it together for Li'l G's sake if for no other reason. This was actually quite simple to do, as I was shooting her daggers with my eyes since she and the little girl sitting next to her were giggling and pushing for the majority of the occasion. But, as per usual, I was struck by several precious moments during graduation that pressed through the floodgates and tore me up good.

After each student had walked the stage and received his or her awards and diploma, all of the Kindergarteners gathered on the stage to sing their sweet, innocent version of that song that says, "The world is a rainbow, made of many colors..." This song puts into simple language, that even they can understand, the concept of living in harmony with people who are different from us. What a profound Kindergarten concept with which we adults continue to struggle! What I saw on their faces: joy, opportunity, promise. I wanted to cherish that space in time for each of them, a time when children genuinely care about the well-being of every student in their class, a time when they know that, if only for that eight hour span of time at school, the adults in their lives love them and want to help them succeed. I watched each child walk across that stage, and I wondered what they would look like at high school graduation, if they made it that far. I watched the kids I knew well from Li'l G's class and cried because I was so stinkin' proud of each of them. These precious little people.

At the end of the gala event, yet another sadistic person had put together a slide show, a poignant compilation of pictures and song that captured each class and showcased the kids doing what they do in Kindergarten. Of course, the only dry eyes in the room belonged to Bud, who was begging to go home by this point in the show. All the while, I was literally willing myself not to cry. As the lights lifted and children were dismissed to accompany their parents back to their respective classrooms is when the bomb dropped on my house.

Li'l G was upset. She was crying, had apparently been crying for several minutes during the slide show. At first, I assumed that the events of the day had caught up with her and she realized she would miss her friends and teachers during the summer. (Keep in mind this is the child who weeps over sad books, cartoons and movies like, "Velveteen Rabbit," and, "Little One.") I asked her why she was so sad and was mentally preparing the salve for her little breaking heart when she said, "I'm sad because I miss Daddy."

Of course, this same thought had been playing in my head during all of graduation. We have reached the beginning of many milestones in life that will come and go without the presence of T. by her side to cheer her on and be her Number One fan. It's a day I have dreaded since November 30, 2005. The mother in me grieves for my children that they will experience their loss over and over again every time something like this comes up. As wonderful as today was, there was no denying its bittersweet aftertaste. The Christian in me reasons back at Grief, reminding me that death has been conquered by the Risen Christ and that the connection between T. and his children is still there and remains forever, albeit behind a gossamer-thin veil that is just opaque enough to always leave room for them to doubt his eternal love of them and how proud he will always be of who they are. In the end, we just sat there, Li'l G and I, and had a good, ugly cry, the world of happy mommies, daddies, and grandparents swirling around us, completely oblivious about the little girl with the broken heart huddled with her mother who could do nothing but quietly cry with her.

What Li'l G and I experienced together was only part of what occupied my thoughts. After I thought of what a loss it was for T. not to see his children grow up, blossom, and move through life, I thought what an opportunity this would've been for R. to have been here today. If we are ever going to transition to being a blended family, R. will have to be there for these milestones. What I have learned thus far, and will no doubt be doing graduate-level research on this summer, is that the transition time of learning how to blend a family makes the milestones less bittersweet. R.'s presence, be it simply in our lives or physically being there, is tangible evidence of the cycle of life, continuing to grow and change into a new person or a new situation. R. brings continuity to a life that has felt like the pause button was pushed almost four years ago. His presence does not erase the pain; rather, it demonstrates that it can be survived and that life, most assuredly, goes on.

The date today is June 2, 2009. I've got 12 more years of living and loving to prepare for Li'l G's next big step into the world. Congratulations, Little Lady. I'm so proud of you.

"I thank my God every time I remember you... he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." -- Philippians 1:4, 6

GGG Unplugged: "Word of God Speak"

I have had a great deal of stress and heartbreak in my life for the last six to nine months, and I've done relatively little blogging about it. This is not because I feel as though it's too painful to share. On the contrary, I think blogging about it would've been therapeutic and might've even reached out to others weathering this storm. I've decided not to blog about this because of the sensitive nature of everything going on, and I think that to have spoken freely and publicly about what was truly on my heart would have been very damaging in many ways.

Some of you know that my church has really been put through the wringer for a long time now. This Sunday will be my pastor's last Sunday with us. It has been a long, painful road with her, and it has crushed my heart to have witnessed everything unfold. I can attest that there is some serious spiritual warfare going on, like none I've ever seen before, and even though there have been some sunbeams pop through the clouds along the way, there are still dark, churning stormclouds over head that simply refuse to burn off and go away.

The praise band has been practicing this song, and I hope we get to do it this Sunday. If not, at least I will have had a chance to lift it to the Lord as my true prayer here. I heard Matt Maher, writer of the song, "Your Grace Is Enough," talking about composing that song during a heavy time in his life. This upbeat song he described as a lament, and he was quick to remind people that God blesses us when we praise through hard times and suffering. I agree with Matt -- I, too, have had to do a lot of that in my life and know he's exactly right. So, that is my intent with my musical offering today; may it rise as incense before the Lord and be pleasing in his sight. Amen.

Quick Reflection

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -- II Corinthians 4:18

This is the Bible verse on my desk calendar for November 30. This is a date that is etched on my heart forever. For me, it is my 9/11. That is T.'s birthdate into heaven. Really, I struggle with that day and the day before, which is when he had the accident on the motorcycle, but that's a completely different blog. This verse really captures my view of what happened that day in the surgical ICU in LSU Medical Center in Shreveport, Louisiana, and it's something I need to remind myself of more often.

I didn't blog anything on November 30, not because I was avoiding it or dreading it or planning some uber-emotional tribute. We were out at the cemetery laying a wreath that day, with the cold, damp late fall wind whipping our hair around, musing about how long it had been, how fast the time has gone and yet how it has seemed to go so slowly at the same time. I'm learning that, as Heath Ledger's widow has lamented, the longer T. is gone, the more I miss him. Strangely enough, it hasn't kept me from embarking on a deep, sweet love with R., which is God's working in and of itself. In fact, when R. showed up for the holidays, I could just feel every muscle in my body relax and my blood pressure go down. It was so comforting to see the continuity in my life that he brings and how he allows me to both go on loving T. but yet move forward with my life with him. As stressed out and emotional as I get, I know that all my complexities can be exhausting, but he loves me through it and comes back for more.

But back to Shreveport, 2005. I didn't have the extensive mental Scripture file that some of my friends have, but I knew this verse. I couldn't have told you the book, chapter, or verse, but I understood this truth in my heart. When I realized that T. was gone, not breathing, not going to open his eyes any more, not going to sit up and complain about having to eat spaghetti one more time, or fight back to good health, my thinking had to shift immediately from temporal to eternal. To consider the temporal without T. was to want to reach into his chest and pump his heart with my own bare hands to make it work again. I could not dwell on this because I would have begged for death myself. Instead, I know that God had already planted the seed of eternity in my heart -- I instantly had to look beyond where I was, standing over the body that no longer contained the soul and let him go. I actually had to tell him this, that he needed to go. In looking back, he was already gone and I would realize this when piecing together details after my brain was functioning somewhat normally later on. But for me, I had to put him into that eternal context to keep from caving in on myself.

Flashing forward to Advent 2008, I reconnected with a college buddy last night on FaceBook who had not heard of T.'s passing, and it obviously came as a real shock to him. I remember telling my friend Marily about this last year, and she was completely speechless as well. And even just last week, HisGirl was watching Super Nanny and was just floored by the episode involving a widow with a two year-old and a five month-old, which is almost exactly the ages Li'l G and Bud were when T. died. It was a real eye opener for her on what our reality is like, especially with such little ones in the picture. What's amazing to me is that I have come through any of this, and now this feels normal, if such a bland, descriptionless word could ever be used in this context. I have no idea how I have made it this long, and still have no idea how any single day in the future will transpire. All I know is this: having an eternal perspective has everything to do with it.

Consider this: Our economy is as fragile as a glass Christmas ornament. Terrorism is a constant threat. People die every day in tragic ways, and more still are diagnosed with terminal illnesses. Millions of people in our own country sleep under blankets of cardboard in sub-freezing temperatures. Children starve and are abused. In my own life, I have certain ideas on how I'd like things to play out, but there are no guarantees. To live with our focus on the temporal is overwhelming, at least to me. Even the wonderful glimpses we get of beauty and love are not enough to get me by. To live with an eye on the eternal is where I draw my strength and my hope. It helps me to get past all of the pain and hurt in the world, in my own life, and to keep walking toward the One I know to be faithful, the One constant in a world filled with variables. "How do I know this?" I have been asked countless times. To be honest, you can read your Bible or not; I don't really care about that. All I can say is that God has been there for me, revealed to me in real and tangible ways that honestly speaks louder to me than Scripture. Hang me up to dry if you want. I read my Bible as often as I can and revel in its words, but there is absolutely nothing like experiencing, really experiencing, the peace which passeth all understanding in real life. There is nothing like knowing that the same God which brought his people out of Egypt and cared for them in the wilderness for 40 years is caring for me in the midst of my wilderness. There is nothing like knowing that the same God who bodily resurrected my Jesus has my sweet T. in his care right now and has made him whole, healed his broken heart and body, and is guiding the kids and me all at the same time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've not read any passage of Scripture that says he will take away our pain if we just pray or come to him. What God does promise is that he will never leave or forsake us. He is there if we keep our eyes on the eternal and don't let the temporal distract us.

As I prepare in my home and in my heart for the birth of Jesus, I think of Him in a tempral perspective, and it brings a lump to my throat. This precious, soft, sweet child is our sacrificial Lamb. Those tiny little fingers and toes will end up bearing Jesus' physical weight and the spiritual weight of our sins on the cross someday. How sad! How tragic! But in an eternal perspective, it inspires awe. This baby boy, through the love and nurture of his earthly parents, grows up and maintains His obedience to the Father. The story begins with the stirrings in the womb, continues through the labor pains, infancy, toddlerhood, life as the son of a carpenter, radical ministry that ends with His death on the cross, and is still continuing at the right hand of the Father. Why wouldn't we want to focus on the eternal in this picture?

This may sound crazy and hair-brained, and I'll give you that, but it has everything to do with how I understand my world, how my perspective has changed and continues to do so. I have got my eyes fixed like a laser past the end of my temporal existence to one that is eternal. It gives me hope and strength to march on with purpose in situations where I cannot comprehend uncertainty, grief, suffering, or even evil in the world. And even as I try my hardest to speak light and life and live what I believe, I still pray constantly, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

May that also be our prayer as we journey toward Christmas and, ultimately, Resurrection Day!

Christmas Thoughts

I've got so many things on my plate right now this minute that I shouldn't even be posting, but this song has really touched my heart this season.

I promise to be up and posting soon... Enjoy this song -- it really speaks my heart...

The Week(s) In Review

"A cheerful heart is a good medicine." -- Proverbs 17:22

I just realized today, as I was catching up on all of my Bloglines feeds, that I have been relatively "offline" for almost two weeks now. It seems like a lot longer than that! Not only have I not posted in that long, I also have read very few posts of others. My apologies for being such a slacker!

If your house is anything like mine right now, it's a real mixture of excitement and exhaustion, long grocery lists, recitals, exponential amounts of laundry and cleaning to do, and a potentially sick child as of bedtime tonight. In the midst of this, I'm trying to keep my chin up and soldier on, but my knees are already starting to feel a little weak. Between PMSing this week and celebrating T's third birthday in heaven, I know that God is going to have his hands full listening to my prayers for the next week or so!

In light of all that has gone on in the last two weeks, and all that will undoubtedly transpire over the next one, I thought I'd take this point by point and try to find God's fingerprint in all this mess...

Recitals: Li'l G has had two of these in the last ten days, one of which went for about two hours and ended around 8:30 P.M. on a school night. Ugh!! The one today was so, well, weird. Let me just say that the recital itself went well and was thankfully only 20 minutes long. But when we were warming up and rehearsing her "piece," her debut of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," she just mentally shut down. Couldn't even remember the song. Partly she was distracted by Bud watching "Pinky Dinky Doo" in the background, but I suspect now that she wasn't feeling very well. It really made me panic -- she was about to perform this song by herself and she couldn't remember even half of the song that she's practiced almost flawlessly since August! Somehow she pulled it off and did a really good job, but you could tell by looking at her face during the recital something just wasn't right. Then she tossed her cookies tonight after dinner. GREAT! TMI, I know, but I'm a mom so I have no qualms discussing childhood ailments. Now I feel like a total dragon mom for hounding my kid to get out there and do her best when all she probably wanted to do was lay down and croak because she had a low grade fever and wanted to sleep. Where is God in this? In the sweet little face of my beautiful baby girl. She is such a fighter and wants desperately for me to be proud of her. One more recital after Thanksgiving and then we get a month-long break, thank God!

Parish Lay Ministry Academy: I attended my last class session last weekend, and literally wanted to throw a tantrum and refuse to leave when the day was over! This two-year program has been such an amazing experience; it has literally changed my life. I can honestly say that, while I'm so incredibly grateful for this experience, it's made my life extremely difficult in many ways. First of all, there is the time when you have to complete reading assignments, papers, and projects. The kids have certainly watched their fair share of movies or played unsupervised in the backyard (gated and locked, though -- I promise!), and many family members have come through to hang out with them as I spend full-length days in class. Even though these have been serious sacrifices for me, the real difficulties have been internal. While I have had to read some borderline-heretical material, God gave me a clear understanding of what was false teaching and what wasn't and why that was so. I have had to excavate some serious familial demons, assess my own spiritual understandings, and measure that up against society's yardstick. The real problem I'm having is that I have come to some stark, clear understandings about myself and how I believe based on things I have learned. In and of itself, this is not the problem; rather, the problem is how to interact in the world, quite honestly. There are certain perspectives out there, popular and seemingly Biblically based, that I just cannot endorse anymore. Combine my strong conviction with my personality and that should pretty much explain my conundrum in a nutshell. I've also come to the conclusion that I need to pursue seminary. Every possible avenue I've looked into has turned into a dead-end so far, so I'm taking at least the first half of next year to digest what I've learned, get back into shape, volunteer at Li'l G's school, and see what unfolds. I want to savor this time of my children being young and still wanting to be around me. I just have this nagging feeling that my days are numbered the way they stand right now, and I want to enjoy each of those days and cherish them. Where is God in all this? Oh man, he's ALL up in my grill. I feel like Martin Luther walking through that field dodging lightning bolts. The problem is, I'm still unclear on where any of this is leading. So I'm putting the ball back in God's court. And waiting. Again...

Church stuff: Good.grief. You can't even BEGIN to know how much stress this has brought to my life over the last couple of months, much less the last two weeks. Some days I don't know whether to thank God that he put me in the position where I am or to curse the day I decided I needed to be involved. I can say this: I'm learning a LOT about people, both in general and specific ones. In my church in particular, I'm having such a weird experience. To my knowledge, I think I'm the first charter member child who has ended up serving on our church council, which is kinda cool, but is also very eye-opening. I have even asked my praise band cohorts, "Have things always been this way?!? If so, was I just blind to it because I was a kid and didn't notice?!?" Where is God in this big, hairy tangle? Good question! No, seriously, I know he's there. This whole season at my church is like a fire that was raging hot and engulfed with flames at one point and has now been reduced to a pile of ashes. If you poke around in the thick mound of ashes, you will still find a handful of red, glowing embers, and given the right conditions, that fire can be ignited again. Because I'm an emotional person to whom it comes more naturally to react and take things personally, I get all wound around the axle about the drama going on and even want to wash my hands of the whole thing sometimes, but I'm really learning that a handful of people respect my opinions, so I try to be clear and deliberate about what I say. I'm also learning the power of saying nothing. (I know, I know, stop the presses! haha!!) But as I have learned from Exodus 14:14, the battle does not belong to me; however, I am really trying hard to discern what role God would have me take in the next steps we take as a congregation. It's definitely a labor of love for me.

Thanksgiving/Gathering With Family: Who else's Thanksgiving gathering this week will put the "fun" back in "dysfunctional"?!? There is so much strife floating around in my family that at one point today I was actually having chest pains. Once again I was asking, "Have things always been this way?!? Or was I just too young to have noticed that the adults aren't playing nicely together?!?" R. is coming this year and will help us with some of the food prep. I always love schlepping him around with me at these kinds of things. His perspective is unbiased and fresh when it comes to assessing the social atmosphere at these gatherings, and I really appreciate his insights. To be honest with you, I'm desperate for this to be a relaxed, joyous occasion. I want the food to be scrumptious, the weather to be chilly, the home in which we're gathering to be cozy, and the laughter to be contagious. What I absolutely, down-to-my-core cannot handle is eyes rolling, back-biting conversations in hallways and corners, or just crankiness in general. With the third anniversary of T's accident and death just two days later, I am striving with all my might to reclaim Thanksgiving as the happy, comforting gathering that it was when I was a kid, both for my children and for my own sanity. Family drama needs to take a vacation, for crying out loud. Where, oh where is God in this picture? Going straight up my spine and into my heart, keeping me upright with a smile on my face to get me through this holiday. I'm counting on it 200%.

Advent/Christmas: It's been hard for me to have the emotional energy left for this holiday over the last couple of years, and for longer than that I've been so righteously pissed at what our society has made of this holiday. However, this year I have decided to take this holiday captive, too. I'm going as overboard as I can possibly go and still have a dollar left to my name. I'm trying to participate in as many opportunities to provide gifts or support as I can. I am trying to make the house festive and exciting for the kids. I'm trying to wrap my heart around the miracle of Jesus' birth, who He truly is, and how to apply this in my life. I want the kids to have a magical, memorable holiday, while also seeing that not everyone has warm, soft PJs and toys. I want them to be able to connect the soft, sweet baby in the manger to the grown man on the cross at some point. Advent is a season of preparation, sometimes somber anticipation, but always a time of remembrance that God is faithful and fulfills his promises, including his promise to send the Messiah because of his love for us, even when we don't always love him back.

To be honest with you, I haven't been very cheerful lately, which is why I chose the opening verse. And in catching up on some of my blogs, I can tell I'm not the only one. It's a hard time of year for more people than we realize. Case in point, my cousin's sister was just taken off life support recently and died. She had sustained a Christopher Reeve-type injury earlier in the year. It caught us all by surprise. Then a woman in the local community died from a stroke quite suddenly. She had taught music and been involved in a jillion things for over 60 years, and even played piano at my church when I was growing up. Last but not least, Li'l G reported to me on Friday that one of her friends' father was sent to jail last week. This little boy is just adorable but can be a behavior problem. I've written about him before; for some reason, he just touches my heart. Now he gets to go through the holidays with this burden. At the age of five. My heart just aches for all of these families for whom Thanksgiving will feel like a hollow experience -- been there, done that. Yet I know that "there are still good times to be had," just as Shelby told Miss Clairie in "Steel Magnolias." If we really look, get down on our hands and knees sometimes and scrutinize, we can see God at work in all these situations. When I can identify that, it makes it easier for me to find hope, to see even one positive thing, and that uplifts my heart more than kind words or inspiring songs. That, indeed, is good medicine.

"The Mermaid Chair": Yet Another Book Review

OK, I really don't have time to devote to books other than my academic stuff right now, but I finished this literally standing up in the kitchen, as S4J was waiting on me to get into the car so we could leave for Chicas last week. This book doesn't tend to get good press, and I think it definitely deserves a shout-out.

First of all, I've noticed that, at least for this reader, SMK books start off slowly and I tend to not care about the characters or the groundwork she's laying until a little way into the book. For some of you that may sound harsh. What I'm trying to convey is that, if you're looking for something that starts off as a cliffhanger and makes you strap on your parachute so you can BASE jump into a plot already in progress, then SMK novels are not for you. While I like that to some extent, I can also appreciate the way some writers painstakingly lay groundwork before they really kick off the conflict of the story. Just don't take all day doing it!

At any rate, I felt like the plot was going to be predictable, which it was to a large extent. It was like one of the characters from "Waiting to Exhale" walked into "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Being in my early 30s and widowed, I did not have a personal way to relate to a woman 20 years my senior going through a mid-life crisis and careening toward self-destruction. I was elated, however, to find that one of the male characters fit closer with me, which I find oddly pleasing. This guy was a monk who thrust himself into the realm of godliness after losing his wife and unborn child in a tragic car accident. Really, to watch how he relates to others, the internal struggle he has, the aching in his heart that consumes every mitochondrion of every cell of his being struck a chord with me, and the terrifying reality of wanting, needing to love again and the risks that come along with that. Also, the main character's father died tragically when she was nine years old, and the broken journey she ends up taking in her life and the harsh reality of secrets kept are really key to this story.

I feel like I've almost gone and said too much about this book. I hope I haven't given any key information away! The ending of this book is so emotionally gripping that I was affected for days after having read it. In fact, when I first read it, I was waiting on Bud at the dentist's office and was crying so hard I was dripping tears on the pages! I had to lean my head back so I could even see the words! (For those of you who need warning, the bomb drops in Chapter 33.) As I was reading and following along all throughout the book, I was curious as to how SMK was going to tie all this up with a bow and come to a logical ending. The ending she came up with surprised me, as there were few obvious clues sprinkled about. You feel as clueless about what is going on as the main character, and the reality of it hit me so hard I had to read the chapter three times for it to really sink in. It reminds me of how, when you receive some kind of bad news, your brain goes into some sort of slow motion or shock. People have to repeat even simple things for you because your mind is just so blown by what you have heard. It was REALLY that good!

SMK doesn't give this book a Disney ending, which I love. I mean, I'd love to see all the problems resolved and have that feeling of, "Everyone's gonna be OK after all," but that is simply not true to life. Her ending was realistic and therefore satisfying.

One of the things SMK does better than anyone except Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (Stephen King goes overboard in this department and "stirs me to wrath," haha...) is her unheard-of-amazing use of imagery. I felt like I could smell the primordial ooze of the tidal estuaries and streams she describes, partly because I have experienced that in some fashion, but also because she captures all five senses in words so well. The feeling of humidity at the beach, the way fog sets into your bones in the middle of the night, the electrifying sensation of a lover's kiss on bare, expectant skin all comes through with intensity in this book, just as she did in "The Secret Life of Bees."

Bottom line: Give this book a chance -- it will devastate you by the raw emotion you will feel, and it will surprise you, too, as to which character(s) you relate the most. It's honest, realistic, and well worth the time you will invest in it. BTW, it's been made into a movie. I have mixed feelings about watching it, however. I have an outrageously overactive imagination; I just cannot imagine Hollywood replicating what was going on in my mind. The same goes with SLoB, which is coming out this week. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ THE BOOK FIRST!!! You won't be sorry you did, I promise.

OK, now back to the books...

Ways In Which I Have Been Wronged This Week, Sort Of

Violated. Persecuted. Held down by The Man. It's such a hard life; yet somehow, I continue to trudge onward.

1. Yesterday, as I was enjoying the ridiculously-hot-yet-lovely fall day here in central Texas, I was parked at a stop light where a city road worker proceeded to sandblast the pavement cracks next to my two-month-old, a.k.a. brand new car. I scurried to roll up the windows and close the sunroof to impede the downpour of BLACK ROCKS falling down like hail on said new vehicle.

2. In an effort to salvage heretofore-mentioned G-ride, I pulled up to the all-service carwash, only to find out that my ginormous bike rack was going to be uninstalled and reinstalled by a kid working at the carwash. I had fifteen minutes to get across town and pick up carpool.

3. I have had an outer ear/cartilege infection since Saturday that is stealing my joy. While I now have mobility in my neck once again, the pain is relentless and throbbing. The swollen lymph nodes in my neck look like my toddler has hidden his marbles under my skin, so I'm sleeping like a baby these days, needless to say.

4. R. found out he was going to be at a conference in Austin in two weeks, thus affording us some government-sponsored Pookie visitation. Just as I am getting excited about where we should go to celebrate my birthday and what chauchie little dress and shoes I should don, I get the message that the conference is cancelled. Oh cruel world! Why must the stars be aligned against us?!?

5. We also had a heated debate about something last night about which we both AGREED. Pointless and ridiculous. I can assert that it was definitely NOT my fault.

6. To top it off, R. is sending my birthday gift to my house and then expecting me not to open it until the end of the month on my birthdate! Uh, hello... Have you met me?!? This is like taking me to Hobby Lobby and expecting me not to buy anything.

7. As I'm driving to Bud's school to pick up carpool today, I got stuck behind two drivers, driving side by side and blocking traffic, who were slamming on their brakes every few seconds. They were careening down the street at a mind-numbing 22 miles per hour in a 30 mph zone. I should've made a citizen's arrest.

Seriously folks, I've just had this silly attitude for the last couple of days but haven't had time to blog or anything. I was just musing today at how peaceful and content I am for the first time in three years. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing the last time I thought that same thought. T. and I were on the Harley, and it was my 29th birthday. The late October sun in Louisiana was bright and piercing against a pristine blue sky, the air crisp and light. We were going to a battalion function and I had specifically asked to ride the bike since he was preparing to deploy the following year and I would not be able to ride on the bike with him for my 30th birthday. The day was so beautiful, and he was so proud of the Harley. It really could've ruined our relationship, but I'm proud to say that I sucked it up and made a point to find time for us to enjoy it together. I remember, as we rode off post and into town, leaning back on the sissy bar and putting my arms out to the sides like long, lean wings and looking up as I closed my eyes. I was thinking to myself, "Thank you, God, for this day. If you took me from this world right at this moment, I would never have been happier in my life." I was specifically thinking of my husband, my children, the weather, my life in general.

Almost three years later, I surprised myself today that I was thinking that same thought again. By all means, my life is not stress-free. I still have a lot of things that are uncertain in my life. The last three years have been rough, jagged, raw, dark, enduring. But I feel like I have emerged through them in stages, almost like walking through a house that is a series of rooms separated by closed doors. As I finish with one room, I look back, think about what I learned or experienced in that room, tentatively turn the knob, and step purposefully into the next room. That new room might smell wonderful or hideous, appear frightening or comforting -- there is no way of knowing this ahead of time. But there is a sense of sequence to them, and I know that it is impossible to proceed to the next one without spending time in the one I'm currently in. Mercifully, I have stepped into a room that seems like a holding tank or a parlor. I know I can't stay here long, but it's lovely and restful. I can still see the fog dancing under the last door that I came through, but it's not seeping through. The furniture is nice but not meant for lounging, so it doesn't exactly invite you to tarry for long but is comfortable for the time being, so we'll see.

So which room are you hanging out in these days in your life?

Do I Have My Answer???

As I'm sure most of you have grown tired of hearing by now, I have been in a discernment process for over two years now on just how God is calling me towards working in his service. I've mentioned how I tend to be a jack-of-all-trades but master of none, and while I would like to narrow my professional focus to reduce this "calling ADD," I can't help but fantasize about all of the areas in which I think I have potential and skill that could be used for kingdom good.

There are certain areas that feel like a given, a reliable constant instead of a rash variable in my life. One is music ministry, and the other is to be active in the body of Christ as it pertains to serving my church. But is this supposed to be my vocation?

First and foremost, I knew that lovely November afternoon when T. was out on his first field training exercise (FTX) after returning home from Kuwait in 2002 that God had called me to become a mother. I finally felt as though my life finally made sense, and that all of the universe was in balance and groovy. However lovely and emotionally fulfilling this has been in my life (not to mention trying and stressful, but I'm trying to have a moment here), it does not pay the bills. I am fortunate to be able to stay at home with my children and not be pressured into being a single mother whose children spend all their waking hours in the arms of other caregivers. Just as T. made it possible in life for me to stay home (although I'm constantly on the go) to be here for our children, he continues to be our provider even in death.

But there is a day coming when I will have to enter the workforce, and those of you who know me even remotely know that I am one who cannot settle for anything in life, be it for a purse, a man, or a vocation. Not only must I be working at something about which I am passionate, I feel a responsibility, a calling if you will, to have my story "out there." I believe that there are people out there who are in need of someone who "gets them" in crisis situations, that isn't going to judge them, say something completely selfish or rude, and just love them through the life-changing moments they never thought they'd have to live through. I remember sitting with the ladies who met me from the organ donation agency thinking, 'I could do this -- I could help others having to make hard choices when they don't want to have to think about it because I've been there.'

So I've been working on becoming a Certified Lay Minister. It's just informal training, but it's a start, and I'm almost through with my training. I feel as if I could be approaching a fork in the road, although this one doesn't have anything yummy attached to it. It just branches out into foggy oblivion. I wish my life was as easy as an episode of "Dora The Explorer." She comes to a path and gets help from the audience to figure out which path to take. Spoiled brat!

At any rate, I've lost focus on those thoughts running in my head for a little while now. But when I was at Barnes & Nobles recently, my eyes caught the title of a book which I brought home and devoured. I won't give it away yet, as I'm still working on a review blog for it. It was as if I was reading about someone else living my life, and it awakened those thoughts of serving in the capacity of pastoral care and ministry of presence.

The Bible verse on my calendar here in the office for 9/11 was Ephesians 2:10 -- "We are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." For some reason, this made me think of people whose lives were changed on 9/11, survivors of those lost in various ways on that date. That was also T.'s birthday, and so I lumped myself into this category. I reflected upon how much my life has changed, how I'm a totally different person than the insecure, irrational brat he married on 1 July 2000, and undoubtedly how those survivors' lives have all changed as well. Then I pondered the last part of this verse, how God prepared in advance for us to do good works. God knew ahead of time who all of us were and who we would become in the moments just before and just after our lives pivoted on that tragic fragment of time. He's been crafting us all along, and for some of us, that crafting includes a massive puncture wound to the heart, complete with surrounding tissue damage and necrosis. The wounds don't mean our demise, but we are no longer the same creations we were; however, we remain his workmanship. Hmmm, OK...

So I had left the calendar open to this page, leaving it there as a reminder to blog on this verse. I'm tired of there being so many hits on the "Open Toed Shoe Pledge" (in fact, I'm not even linking to it!) -- I want people to be reading something of substance when they come here -- that I thought I would blog about it. I never got around to it until today. As I kept a finger on 9/11 and read up to today's entry, this is what I found:

"He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us." -- II Corinthians 1:4

And there you have it. I feel as though I have received a clear answer to my question. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I have got to pay forward the love and support God showered me with through the presence of the others who ministered to me during my dark valley experience. The strength and clarity and serenity he gave me in those first days were unlike any other experience I've ever had, and while I know I can never be that source for anyone else, I would like to be Jesus with skin on for them, a source for them to find comfort and to hear that God loves them no matter what and is, indeed, closer to them than they could understand, even in a time such as that.

In all my searching and pondering, I swear I have never read this verse before, and it just tumbled off the page like it was spring-loaded, waiting for me to stumble upon it. I'm going to cling to this verse and continue to pray and seek and see where this leads! I just know great things are coming...

D-Dang!!

OK, so after that last post, I'm updating my desk calendar to see what today's verse was. Look what little gem He left under my pillow:

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him." --James 1:12

Man, He is soooo reading my mail. Gotta love it.

Happy Anniversary, Schmupps...

"Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God... Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear." --Hebrews 12:1-2, 28 (NKJV)

Dearest Tom,

I wanted to make my last verse dedicated to you. I think of you every time I read vv. 1 and 2, and it gives me such hope. It helps me endure the long days as they spread out before me, here without you, knowing that I am surrounded by you and others who love me and cheer me on, praying encouragement and strength over me.

Over this last year I really hope you have been saying extra prayers for me. I hope that God has allowed you to peek into my heart, and then again, I don't. The saying that "time heals all" has felt more like a cruel joke than words of wisdom. This year has been harder than any other since you died. The longer we are apart, the harder I struggle. So many times I feel myself falling, feeling so lost and out of sorts. I went through such a dark time, a season in which past hurts were choking out my happy memories of you like wild, bristly thistles in a delicate herb garden. Just when I am ready and willing to move on, I come across baggage like this that dashes my faith and my hope. As I wrote those letters where I was supposed to be forgiving you of being some inconsiderate person, I realized my own depravity, my own sinfulness against you and realized how desperately I needed your words of forgiveness.

As I sat there in the blazing Texas heat with my hand over where yours would be, six feet underneath me in white cotton gloves, my mind raced through a rolodex of memories we made. I remembered the song being played in the hangar as you were the last man in the door at the redeployment ceremony in FT Riley, and the travel-weary smile you gave me as I smothered you in a relieved hug. I remembered how you cried so hard you almost couldn't get out the words, "I love you," the first time you told them to me, the song you had picked out for that moment, and how I drove the two hours home in happy tears. I remembered the sound of your voice, your easy laugh, and the way your eyes danced when you smiled. I also remembered seeing you for one last time in the church. You laid there, in dress blues ready to be taken into the sanctuary one last time on the shoulders of the soldiers who loved you. You were in the same exact place we were standing after leaving the church when we married, and we did a 'high five' because we were exhilarated to finally be down the aisle. Our marriage began and ended in the same place; how strange...

I need to know you are in that cloud of witnesses, Tom. The kids need to know it, too. All three of us have such a long road ahead of us. I struggle with knowing how to incorporate you into our lives without breaking their hearts, or mine for that matter. The next chapter in our lives has already begun and is moving in a good, happy direction. How do I appropriately keep you in the family without hurting him? While I'm at it, how weird is it to love two insanely different men? I wish beyond all wishing that God would just allow you a couple of words to me, a kind of "seal of approval," on everything, just to let me know that I'm doing the right thing. I feel good about all the choices that I have made so far, but knowing that it would pass muster with you would give me enormous peace of mind.

I didn't ask to be plopped in the big middle of this race I'm in, but as long as I'm here, I want to do it right, to make it to the end not just with a huff and a puff, but with flying colors. All I can think of is to keep my head down and just keep going toward what I know is right -- to keep my heart open to God's words and my eyes focused on the cross. Just promise me that you will be there with the others to tell me, "Welcome home," when I make it across that finish line.

Happy 8th anniversary, Schmupps; I miss you...

CrazySexyCancer

Oh MAN, this is worth a look... If we could all have the passion for life that this girl has, not just in hard times, but just in life in general, what power we would all have to change the world...

Click on the title of the blog to link to the site. Be sure to watch the trailer...

Today's Verse: Galatians 6:2

"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." (NKJV)



'Burden' must be the word of the day for a lot of us out there in the blogosphere. Maybe it's just because several of us are floating around in the same circles, I don't know. I just feel this cry coming up from myself, from humanity, and it just overwhelms me. As I sit here writing this, I can think of no less than four marriages that are either recently divorced or embarking on divorce, two friends who are battling depression tooth and nail, four people dealing with biopsies, diagnoses, and treatments, and so many other hurts and stresses I could probably never remember them all.



I won't get into the 'whys' here. Only One knows the answer to any of those questions anyhow. What I want to say here is this: with all this hurt in the world, I think we could all use for a little less impatience, road rage, and being too insecure to "put ourselves out there." In the immortal words of John Lennon, "All you need is love."

I think of a friend in particular, S4J to be exact. She, among several others but her especially, have really ministered to me over the years. One of her many talents and spiritual gifts is that of empathy. She will literally take on your pain with you and suffer right alongside you. She might not be able to take away your pain, but she will yoke up next to you and slog through the swampy rice paddies of your problems right there with you.

What, then, is the law of Christ? I believe it is this: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that your are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35, NKJV) By being there for each other during these times, we are doing exactly what Jesus commanded us to do. Sweet -- we're killing two birds with one stone! Seriously, no one needs to feel isolated or unloved at any time, much less when they don't know how they will make it another 24 hours through whatever they're struggling with at the time. And I think, if we pay it forward, it comes back to us tenfold.

I want to take a minute to highlight a couple of ministries that I think do just exactly this: Jenster and her amazing crusade through the murky waters of being a cancer survivor just unveiled yesterday a website specifically designed for women who are simultaneously living with cancer and all that comes with it, in addition to mothering a family. Someone saw a need for support in this ever-growing demographic, and now there exists a site where women can come to saddle up next to other women for prayer and encouragement. This new site, just unveiled yesterday, is called Mothers With Cancer. Please take a minute and go visit this site, and please pass it along to help get the word out.

Another group of people that I happen to know personally is HUGSS, Helping Unite Gold Star Survivors. This group of women specifically offer support to those individuals in the greater FT Hood area who have lost a loved one who was in the military, either to wartime loss, terminal illness, accident, or any other imaginable way. Most of the people I have met through HUGSS are similar to me -- young, have kids, widowed. This group does support parents, siblings, and anyone else who has lost a soldier, however. And some of the widows are older than me. Unfortunately, many of them are younger, and guys, I'm not that old. This organization began when one of the volunteers, whose husband is actually still living, began to see close friends of hers widowed and falling through the cracks. She was completely unwilling to allow this to happen. Long story short, HUGSS now has their own building ON POST at FT Hood, we have our own Gold Star parking at the commissaries (grocery store) and PXs, and many other kindness thanks to their activism. Please go visit them here.

(And BTW, if you're wondering what all this "gold star" stuff is about, you can read more about just who is a Gold Star Wife here. Basically, most of you have probably seen a service flag. The star in the center represents your service member. Once that person dies, their star changes from blue to gold, hence the term "gold star.")

Lastly, there is a cool site I have not personally used but have heard of through at least one person. It is called the HysterSisters. It specifically offers support to women going through hysterectomies and follows up with support for not just recovery, but over time. A hysterectomy is so much more than surgery. It can mean loss of feminine identity for some. For others, it can be a second chance at life. Go check 'em out...

In closing, I don't know who sings this version, but I found a great clip on YouTube, as usual, of some mission work in Cambodia, set to the tune of, "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love." Most of us know without having to talk about it just how mission work, both at home and abroad, falls into this category. So I'll leave you with this...

Article: "When A Baby Is Destined To Die"

I just read this on MSNBC.com and haven't cried that hard in a long time. Wow. So much strength and beauty in that story, and God so clearly evident as well.

For those parents who go through the loss of a child like that, I can't even know what to tell you. I won't pretend to have sage words of wisdom just because I've been through personal loss of my own. All I could ever muster up is to say how sorry I am that things like this happen, and that you are not alone, although you might feel that way.

If you've got your Kleenex ready, click on the title of the blog to read the article...

Mandatum Novum

OK. I was going to give everyone their "Maundy Thursday 101" lesson, but Sing4Joy has totally beat me to the punch! So, go hit her page and come back so we can continue...

Pretty interesting stuff, I think. I've noticed that not many churches have Maundy Thursday services, and I know my church has not always had them. At my church, we are observing this important day with a Seder, combining that with the chance for each person to take part in the meal as well as music. It's not a traditional, orthodox seder, but then again, we're not Jewish. We are trying to incorporate our Jewish heritage to better appreciate and understand our New Testament faith.

One of the songs that we are playing tonight is, "In The Garden," by Michael Card. I have scoured the internet to find you a clip to hear or watch of this song. It is NOT the traditional hymn that you are most likely thinking of; it's a completely different song. It is a lament of sorts, and the part that gets to me is the second verse. Here are the lyrics:

"Trembling with fear,
Alone in the garden
Battle before the final war
Blood became tears,
There in the garden
To fall upon the silent stone
There in the darkness, the Light
And the darkness stood still
Two choices, one tortured will
And there, once the choice had been made
All the world could be saved
By the One in the garden

The light of the dawn
Was seen in the garden
By gentle eyes, so sadly wise
The angels appear,
They come to the garden
Clothed with sighs, they realize
The One they've adored from the start
Will be broken apart
By the ones He had come to save
So they're here simply now to be near
He's no longer alone
They sit by Him and moan."

I have never viewed the Passion from the perspective of the angels, created beings separate from humans and from God, spectators in the history of creation. How they have adored Jesus, the Word made flesh, which has been since the foundations of the world, and ministered to Him no doubt, have worshipped Him and will do so again at the end of days. I envision Jesus, wracked with the reality that is so near. His aching, wrestling with what is to come, His desire to be obedient to the Father, His intercession for us as believers yet to come even moments before these terrible events begin (John 17:20-26), and yet there is an unseen assembly. The angels have come to minister to Him. They can't step into His place, but their ministry is one of presence. It was so important that He not suffer alone. They said nothing but they were there. Their spirits were so heavy, yet they came to Him.

Can we 100% prove that this actually happened? No. But is there exacting evidence that proves that this was impossible? Again, no. It seems acceptable in my understanding that this scenario is entirely possible, and it grieves me in a beautiful way to think of the Passion from this perspective. Thinking of the feelings running through Jesus' heart, the reason for all this to come to pass, break my heart. Then, when I think about the angels coming to minister to Him, their hearts breaking, that, too, makes me sad but comforts me as well. I can believe that, if the Father provided this kind of comfort to Jesus in His time of need, then He can also accomplish that in my life. The angels came to provide love and support, not to take the cup of suffering away. And so it is in our lives. God comes to us -- supernaturally, through other people, through experiences, etc. -- and shows us His ministry of presence, although we're still up to our eyeballs in some of the thickest mud we've ever found ourselves in. It is a big deal to me to not feel alone in my struggles and my journeys. When I feel alone in this world, I know that I have not been completely abandoned, and that thought alone has been something that has gotten me through many a hard day.

One last thought about the events of today: try to bring Maunday Thursday and Good Friday to the table with you every time you receive communion. As I like to tell Ron, communion, along with baptism, are two of the only things in my religion that are tangible. You can have a sensory experience with bread, wine, and water. They are, to me, one of the easiest ways to remind me of "what it's all about." It's about love. Jesus loved me, even me. He established the breaking of the bread and the drinking of the wine as simple, physical reminders of His love. He suffered, was broken, and poured out His life out of love. For me. For you.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." --John 15:13 (KJV)