True Legacy

Today is one of “those” days. Not as in a bad day… like it was just “one of those days”. Today is a day that everyone warns you about when you start the journey of grief. You’re told birthdays, anniversaries, holidays are going to be a lot harder because you will remember everything about your loved one and how they aren’t there. This I have found for the most part to be true. Not always but mostly. I can have a bad day for no reason at all too. Like in the middle of the frozen food section of the grocery store… a full on sobbing melt down while deciding which type of waffles to pick (true story- poor unfortunate clerk stocking the case in Safeway- it wasn’t you I promise).  But the truth is “milestone” days can be daunting to face. 

Today would be my 23^rd wedding anniversary. 23 years ago a terrified young woman (barely not a girl anymore) took a step down the aisle of a boiling hot church toward a cocky young man (barely not a boy) and pledged her life to him. A life stretched before them they could never have dreamed.  A life so hard that if they had known what was coming, both would have probably bolted from the church and never looked back. And a life so overflowing with joy that if they had know what was coming they might have only each said the two most important words in the ceremony to get it over and get their life started together.  Neither knew that day those 19 years would fly by in a blink and death would separate them in an instant.

 I have handled this date differently every year. The first year I sat on a beach and watched the waves roll in as the tears poured down my face, then I dragged my kids up a mountain on a hike while they complained every step until I yelled- “This is a bad day for me dang it!! So we are going to have fun if it kills us!” Not my finest moment as a parent but I was doing the best I could at the time. The next year I spent it quietly without feeling much at all and last year I was traveling and didn’t have time to contemplate it between switching planes and rushing to my next destination.

Then we come to this year. 23 years… The ache has been there in the pit of my stomach for days and I have found myself back in the pattern of wandering aimlessly through my day, which I have found is a normal reaction for me when the waves of grief rise up.  I had mapped out my plan to celebrate it in a way I thought would help me most and then random circumstances caused those plans to totally fall apart. So yesterday I was riding in a car, moving towards this day in total panic and trepidation. The tears started yesterday morning immediately and continued much of the day.  They rolled silently down my face behind my sunglasses, as I watched the waving wheat fields of Eastern Washington pass me by. Moving me closer mile-by-mile to the places that most remind me of Dave.  The other people in the car had no idea I cried so much yesterday, or if they did they were kind enough not to bring it up. The two in the front are working on their own journey of love and struggle through this gift called marriage. They laughed and joked and dreamed of what is next for them in this crazy phase of new love and building a family. The baby in the back with me giggled and babbled and when he smiled his eyes crinkled up reminding me so very much of the person I was missing at that moment. The Grandpa who would have bounced and tickled and made up crazy songs and just loved every single second he could get with this sweet boy.  I lay in bed last night under the roof of family. My haven, my rest from this stormy time in my life and wished that I could just stay there until the next day had passed. Asking God how can I get up and face tomorrow with an ache that feels like it will swallow me whole? 

But this morning when I woke up the ache was gone and in its place was something I struggle to find these days… It was overflowing, unbelievable thankfulness.  Thankfulness for so many things it was crazy. Sunshine for this trip, seeing faces of friends at church I have missed so much, safety for the trip we just made, plans this week to see amazing people…

 At the top of all this list of thankfulness was the realization of how grateful I am that a terrified young woman took that trip down the aisle towards a cocky young man who thought he could take on the world and love her better than anyone else.  He did try to take on the world and got knocked down quite a bit in the process, but he always got up again and again. And he did love that young woman with a fierce, protective, unselfish love that most would only dream of experiencing in their lifetime.  I am also overflowing with thankfulness for the two amazing children that came from that marriage and now a beautiful grandson who’s smile remind me so much of his grandpa’s.  This is true legacy. Not land, not money, not fame or things. Legacy is the memories you build. The good, the bad, the suffering and the joy. Those things build a true legacy and they are all that is left of a life lived well. 

So today is not a day I am going to dread.  Today or any other day from here on out if I can help it. I am realizing that  July 27, 1991 was the start of an amazing beginning. And everyday that I face from here on out, no matter how scared I am, no matter what I am struggling with, that day could be the start of a journey to something beyond my comprehension. Just like my wedding day was.  And I don’t want to miss what is in store for me, because life is full of sorrow but it is also full of wonder and love.  And life is SO short. We say that all the time but do we really grasp the truth in that? God gives us this time on earth to make every second count for Him, for eternity.  So what am I going to do with this? What can we all take away from this? Here are some things I think could help if we all worked on them daily. Today hug the ones you love. Tell them how important they are to you. Do something spontaneous with your family that you would never do. You don’t know how precious that memory could be later. And finally, if you need to… tell someone you are sorry. Mend that relationship that has been a little messed up or maybe a lot messed up. I can guarantee a little humility now in being the one to take the first step will go a long way to fixing the situation. And you won’t regret it. Regret comes when you never have the chance to say something to make it right… not when you have to be the first one to say it.  Let love become your true legacy. 

Longing for Home

“By an act of faith, Abraham said yes to God’s call to travel to an unknown place that would become his home. When he left he had no idea where he was going. By an act of faith, he lived in the country promised him, lived as a stranger camping in tents. Isaac and Jacob did the same, living under the same promise. Abraham did it by keeping his eye on an unseen city with real, eternal foundations—the City designed and built by God.”Hebrews 11: 8-10  

May 30, 2013- 9:53am. This date and time is written in capital letters and circled on the top of a page in my journal.  This is the date I gave my house away. Everything about that moment is still vivid to me. The warm sunshine flooded the back deck,  our big, lazy white cat slept under the edge of the porch and the majestic mountains shimmered in the distance. The hands of my husband built this house. A place that was brimming with the memories of a family that loved and laughed and fought and grew up there together. It was the most peaceful place I had ever known, but now there was an emptiness within those walls that nothing could fill again. A home full of a silence that was unbearable at times.  But to leave it behind was incomprehensible. The memories I could dwell in there were my cocoon from the reality of a broken life that now stretched out before me.

God had been wooing my heart to let go and follow Him to a new place for months before this day.  He was calling me over and over to go and I had been fighting Him every single square inch of the way. I sat in the sun that day and contemplated the impossible. How could I let go of the countless memories and experiences our family had on this land? The house built for us from the ground up by such loving hands. The last pieces of my old life were wrapped up in the walls of this place. Surely God would never ask for this too.  It was too much to leave behind- the cost is too great and I have given enough…. Too much. Surely God wouldn’t expect me to give the last thing I have to cling to.  Clearly and immediately the answer came to me as if God spoke it out loud in the stillness of that sun-filled space-

“ You could never give up more than I have given for you. I gave up my only son… on the cross… for you.  You could never give enough, even if you gave every moment of every day for the rest of your life it could never match what I have done for you, all because I love you. And this place… this house and land that you so dearly love… it is temporary.  Every place you have lived and every place you ever live while you are on this planet is rental property –your true permanent residence is in heaven with me. I want to give you something amazing now- a new life- new hope- new love- but your fists are so tightly clenched on your own will that you can’t take hold of what I have. Let go of this and see what I can do” 

At that moment something inside me broke. The knowledge sank into me that all that I had and ever would have is because of the Lord, what He had given, what He had taken away- everything is I own is because of Him and for Him. That’s what I signed up for when I traded my old broken life for a life with Christ. So I said out loud, actually, I think I yelled it- "Fine God- I give you this house. This place- all of it is yours to do whatever you choose with- It's all yours"  In that moment it was as if God breathed out the word “FINALLY”.  He had been patiently waiting for me to let go.  And unlike I would do in my selfish human state, He did not hold my months of resistance to His will against me. Over the next months, He graciously revealed in every single way possible that I was following Him. Like a tidal wave, His plan unfolded over me and He worked through every detail to lead us. We moved into our new home in Montana less than three months from that day that I gave my house to Him. 

Looking at the situation I thought quite a bit about of how I would have handled it if I were God. So ridiculous to even imagine myself in God’s shoes, but I did. I imagined myself with an amazing gift to give my children. Something they so desperately needed in their life.  With outstretched arms, I would offer it again and again only to have them turn their back. They don’t trust me that my gift is perfect and exactly what they need. They try to seek their own gift but they don’t have the resources or the wisdom to get it on their own. They try to get it themselves through many empty avenues and finally in frustration they cry out “Just give me what you have then”. Not with joy but with tears and trembling and fear. In that moment of their surrender would I extend the gift willingly and immediately with love? I want to think so, but I feel like my flesh would take over and I would withhold it. Claiming my right to wallow in my own offense over their constant rejection.  Praise God that He is at the very core mercy. His character is redemption and love and grace. He does not repay us as our sins deserve but pours love and grace and forgiveness out when we come. In the weeks that followed this moment I marveled over new truths about the character of our God. He isn’t just merciful to us, He IS mercy. He doesn’t just extend grace, He IS grace. To the core, every time.  He can’t do anything else because He can’t be anything else…. ever. 

Over and over since I moved to Montana last summer God has echoed the same words in my mind and in my heart "I AM ENOUGH". Such simple words to grasp, but I just can't seem to get my footing and cling to this above what I want.  I find myself falling back into the mode of doubting that this is His perfect gift to me. I am breathless with hurt in the times when my heart longs for our old home, those memories, and most of all for the family that laughed and loved and fought and grew up there together.   I don’t want this temporary home, this tent living anymore. I long for the familiarity of home.

There is a song out right now and I can't hold it together when it comes on.

"There's no place I would rather be

There's no place I would rather be

There's no place I would rather be than here in your love, here in your love."

I desperately want those words to reflect the condition of my heart and the focus of my days. That wherever I go, whatever I do - the place I want to be most is where God is calling me to be, not where I wish I was.  That the place I desire to be more than any other on earth is with Jesus. To want it more than the strong human arms that used to hold me when I was afraid. The warmth I felt next to my beloved in bed at night when the day was done and the house was quiet. To want to with God more than to be in the presence of my first love, the one whose heart was completely mine.  I want this so badly but it's really, really hard to live it out day after day. The loneliness feels like it could swallow me up, suck me down to the depths forever. So patiently, all day, every day God shows me in countless ways that my heart is His and He is mine. God is all and is in all. He is enough.  This is what I work on day-by-day, hour-by-hour and sometimes minute-by-minute. There is no going back now, so I struggle forward, to continue to pitch my tent wherever God calls me to go. Because He is enough.  I don’t know how many more times I will pull up stakes and move my tent for my God. I don’t want to think what other places He will call me to roam to for His purpose.  But my only choice is to strive to fix my eyes on the truth that one day I will open the door to my final home, already built for me now, waiting in eternity. Within those walls, the strong familiar arms I ache for will be open wide to welcome me… Finally home. 

Worry……..

 “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life” Matthew 6:27

My mind worries and races all the time. I have struggled with worry most of my life. I conquer it temporarily only to slide back into the pattern of it again.  I think I am not even cognizant of it most the time. I live in it, not recognizing it because I am so used to its presence in my life.  But I know there is a better way- a new way that God is calling me to. Where the desire to control loses its grip on me. Where I slide off the suffocating yolk of fear- anxiety- what if’s- what about’s and take up yolk of Christ. This is a yolk of peace, truth, love, mercy and grace. What if I focused on the cross every time worry advanced? On the ransom paid for me- a broken, struggling, stinking mess of a person like me? If every time a fearful scenario started to play in my head I replaced it with a picture of outstretched arms- body broken – blood shed in agony that I could be free? What would it look like if at the very site of fear and worry - I dropped to my knees in praise and thanksgiving for that all was paid for me? What greater scenario can I face- more frightening than separation from my creator- the lover of my soul? Can anything separate me from Him- ever? The Apostle Paul was so sure of the truth that nothing could separate God from us.  He wrote “ For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  But yet… But yet I doubt… I worry- I stew and fret. I let the worries dwell- fears grow- conflict sit in my mind until they take up all the room and nothing is left to praise Him for all that is good in my life.  I cling to things I cannot control- problems I was never meant to solve. The stories spin- conversations that have never happened. Outcomes decided in my mind alone because of my unbelief. Birthed in worry and fear rather than in truth. Things imagined that might never come to pass- that could never come to pass in the way I would imagine them because God alone knows the future. 

In my worries I become like a little girl standing before her Father.  Arms full of broken toys- refusing to put them down- trying to make them work but parts are missing- batteries are dead- pieces don’t fit or are long worn out. The Father holds a big shiny box. A gift- new things- things I need- things to bring joy- But I refuse to open the box- I would rather cling stubbornly to what is in my arms – to try and make things work that are useless now. All the while the Father gently pleads- lay it down- take this gift- trust me that what is in this box is better than what you cling to. The box holds grace, mercy, peace, wisdom and truth. It is everything I need but I am so afraid to let go of all I have- to truly empty my arms so the Father can fill them. My controlling nature- my flesh would rather be full of the wrong things than be empty, because emptiness would mean total abandonment of all control. So I cling to worry- fear- worldly comfort- the approval of other people- all these things give me a false sense of control. Better to cling stubbornly to the allusion of being full than face the nothingness of total surrender. Into the nothingness- the emptiness is where I am terrified to go. To really let go and see what is there. But that is the beginning of what I need.  The filling from God. That I might let go one by one of the broken pieces of my life so that I am total empty- arms limp- so that God can gather me into his. To fully glimpse His glory- His peace and love. To place in my arms what I truly need. The truth that God alone is all I need. And what I need is better than anything I could ever desire.

The heart of my current struggle with worry is rooted in my loss. I cling stubbornly to the idea that I will never be as happy as I was when my husband was alive.  That the giver of every good gift somehow loves me less or is less trustworthy with what He gives. That I will never be whole again. The place of contentment alone is unattainable now. I am clinging to the desire for my old life with all that I have. I hold the past so tightly and scream- “No God! You can’t have the past- I need to live in it to be whole.” If I truly give that over I will have nothing- be nothing. But what I think I hold onto is an illusion. The memories are there but Dave lives today with you. You chose Lord- to take him to be with you. To change his residence. He died and you said,  “This is my will”. My good and perfect, pleasing will to heal him in eternity. So much beauty when one of your children comes to you in paradise. No more tears- no more pain- no sin- no burden of shame- only your glory in all it’s perfection.  So much beauty wrapped in such a terrible, incredible gift. The tearing apart of a family- The two who had become one- who were adhered as it is defined in the Greek  “as if glued” are torn apart. Total destruction accomplishes your will. Only you can step in now God to fill that hole that's left. To complete in me what was torn away.  Just like when the veil was torn- when the perfect union between Father, Son and Spirit was broken. The greatest purpose in the history of the world was fulfilled. To reconcile a lost world back to you.  You know the pain of separation God. You know loss. You turned your face away the loss was so great on the cross. Even you, the creator of the universe could not look upon it.  You know.  Because you know, only you can truly give me what I need now.

So maybe what is in shiny new box for me- for all of us - can be trusted as better than all the wildest dreams and desires - than the past- than our attempts to control. The gift is greater than the most insurmountable fears.  I want to know it’s okay to let the broken toys slide to the floor- the pieces I am holding that no longer fit - those can be replaced as I stand with arms wide open before the God who is the giver of every good thing. Beauty and love wrapped in an awful, wonderful, painful, incomprehensible gift.  I am standing on the brink. I am praying I can let go and take the gift.

Why Blog??

This is a an ironic question for me.  We live in the overwhelming abundance of a virtual world. Texting, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat. These are terms that are thrown around our house on a daily basis. They haven't meant a whole lot to me and I don't really have the patience or brain power to learn how to use them, although I do use email and have a Facebook account.  Technology is really not my thing so publishing a blog isn't something I have pictured myself doing. In all honesty, it has taken me way too long to just figure out how to get my words onto this page and now I am not sure if anyone else will ever actually find it to read it. I love the face to face time I get with family and friends. I love to look into their faces while we talk, hear their laughter and their stories. I treasure every word we share. I think this is even more precious now that I am widowed. I live with a seventeen year old who while wonderful is not always the most thrilling conversationalist and let's face it, seventeen is an age where things revolve around you and only you.  So my days are sometimes so quiet, the silence is suffocating so talking through a computer screen is very unappealing.  But yet something has been calling to me for a while now to find a better way to preserve the details of this unfolding life.  

A few months after my husband died a package arrived in the mail. In it was a little book. A sweet journal with shiny flowers and comforting words on the cover.  A friend had slipped in a note with it that said 'You probably can't pray- can't breathe- can't think,  but write- write to God- He will answer. It began in reluctance at first, mostly in anger and questions and anguish. But the answers have come. He has spoken over and over through seven additional journals since the first arrived in my mail box. In the midst of this journaling has come a precious gift. A refuge when the winds of pain howl and the dark clouds of grief over take me. This blog is a record of some of the most pivotal conversations between God and I from those journals. And hopefully more conversations to come. But these are not just thoughts and ideas and prayers. Those are in there. But it is first hand view of the unfolding of God's grace in my life. Of a new relationship with him. After walking with Jesus for 20 years it was obvious to me that I really didn't know him the way I thought I did. This is the story of  a broken, bleeding, aching woman learning to really humble herself for the first time in her life to really know her God and to be known by him in the deepest places and to experience love like never before.