Eight Months and Counting....

It has been more than eight months—eight months of dealing with loss, finding a new normal, learning how to live again. We have come so far. Yet at times, I feel as if I am standing still, searching for something that I have forgotten. I pray for strength and stability. I pray for God to remove the longing. And I wonder if this emptiness will ever be filled.

The kids are adjusting. Life without their daddy is difficult at best. However, they keep moving forward, either denying or ignoring the reality that is now theirs. Hunter avoids the topic at all costs. Haley lives in constant fear that something will happen to me. And Haden is worried that he will forget. I cry for them. Their loss is magnified by the trauma that accompanied it, which creates a whole new level of complexity in dealing with Woody’s death. Even friends who have lost a parent cannot relate because they did not watch their mom or dad die in such a horrifying way. They did not see their parent start to slip and fall over 100 feet. They did not experience holding that parent on the side of a slippery granite slope while blood spilled into their hands. They did not see injuries too horrifying for words inflicted upon someone whom they loved with every fiber of their being. No, it is difficult to find anyone who understands what they are going through and what they have experienced. Yet, somehow, God is carrying them through it and they are adjusting remarkably well—supernaturally well.

And me? I cannot think about that day. I cannot think about the last time I looked into Woody’s eyes as he slid belly first over the granite slope before falling over the ledge. I cannot think about holding his hand and his head while we waited for the EMT’s. It is too painful. The tears sting my eyes and fall unapologetically every time I do. I miss Woody every day. I miss his laugh, his voice, his touch. I miss the way he loved me. I miss the way I loved him. I miss being a wife. In every scenario I imagined for my future, being a widow was not one of them. Yet, this is the path God has chosen for me, and so I praise Him. Even in my sorrow, I find joy in my Father. He has faithfully carried me through the darkest days and has set my feet upon solid ground. The clouds are slowly fading away and the sun is beginning to emerge. Hope is on the horizon. I will survive. Ever so softly, life has begun to edge its way back into my heart.

Through all of this, one thing has remained clear—God is love! He is merciful and kind. No matter what the future may hold for all of us, He will constantly guard and guide us. We are clearly under His protective wings. God is good, and if anyone had the right to question His character based upon his or her circumstances, it would be me. Nonetheless, I still say God is perfect in all His ways.  And that will always be clear.

Fragile and Frightened

“Your strength amazes me….”

“I could always see fortitude in you that left me in awe….”

“You are my ‘she-ro’!”

The accolades fall on the ground all around me while I sit, hugging my knees and crying into the emptiness that surrounds me. I am not strong! And in this moment I feel fragile and frightened. Yet, everyone believes I am strong and steady. No one sees the me that breaks down in the middle of a run and has to stop as the sobs take my breath away and defeat my soul. No one sees the tears that intermingle with sweat streaming down my face. No one sees because I am too busy hiding behind my Father, trying desperately to become invisible. What they see is supernatural. What they see is Someone greater than I will ever be picking up the pieces and holding them together.

I will never be strong. Fortitude covers my fragility; and a champion? There is only One, and it is not me. I will fall to my knees every time, delicate and defeated. Yet, somehow God shines through me and is revealed to those who cross my path. Just know that the real me does not deserve praise. I am as pathetic as they come, but I have found sustenance in a God who through my frailty is made strong.

God's Gift to Mankind

One of God’s greatest gifts to mankind is the ability to love another human being. True love is quite different than fondness or attraction. True love is sacrificial and unconditional. It does not change with our circumstances and is not based on the other person’s behavior. It loves at all times and is always sincere.

Some people go an entire lifetime without ever experiencing true love in holy matrimony. Yes, they are married, but they have no idea what it means to be in a covenant relationship with God as the cornerstone. There is no spiritual intimacy and, unfortunately, without spiritual intimacy, emotional and physical intimacy will never reach the depth or height that God intends.  The sexiest thing a man can do with his wife is to pray over her, lifting her needs to the heavenly realms. There is an indescribable connection made when two people pray together and seek spiritual wisdom. The bond created in those moments is resilient and will weather any storm. The transparency creates confidence in every other area of the relationship. Tender affection and respect become second nature. Holy matrimony is a sacred relationship founded on biblical principles and draws its strength from the author of true love.

Woody and I came to know that sort of love. It was a long journey which nearly destroyed our union. However, the last four to five years of our marriage were amazing. We finally had discovered what it means to be in a covenant relationship with God and each other. It wasn’t perfect; yet, we understood grace. More than anything, we respected each other. We never let the sun go down on our anger. We gave more than we took. We loved at all times with sincerity.  We understood God’s gifts—marital love and intimacy!

It saddens me when I see couples in the church throwing away their marriages, giving up on the most valuable gift God has given. Nothing is impossible with God. No marriage is beyond the point of no return. Why do we so easily throw in the towel? Is it because we are not truly loving? Has our society redefined love so effectively that even Christians have become blinded to the truth?

I am thankful for the years I had with Woody. I am thankful for his spiritual leadership and all of the times he held me close and prayed fervently for me, our marriage, and our family. I am thankful that I was able to recognize God’s greatest gift to mankind and appreciate it while it was within my reach. Do not take for granted what you have been given. Life is short—sometimes much too short. In a moment everything can change. You do not want to be left with a lifetime of regrets and “what if’s.” I can honestly say that if I had known Woody would die that day on Mt. Yonah, it would not have changed how we lived. I have no regrets. Will you?

Homeschooling Through Grief

When Woody died, we had about three weeks of school left. Of course, everything was put on hold.  Several times during the summer I would try to organize my thoughts enough to teach the kids and finish up the year. It would last a few days, and then grief would cloud my thoughts and darken my view. We finally did get to a stopping point, yet all their quizzes and tests remained ungraded. A pile of papers accumulated on my desk until it was so overwhelming, I couldn’t even begin to think about grading it and recording their marks in a progress report.

When we moved, everything went into a box. I tried to unpack and organize our new classroom enough so that we could start another school year in September.  I enrolled Haley and Haden in an online curriculum knowing that I was unfit for teaching. The classroom remained a war zone with piles of papers and books strewn on the floor and the desks. Once again I felt completely overwhelmed and closed the door on the chaos knowing that it would have to wait. Never had I felt so muddled and frustrated at my lack of motivation. Was this grief? Yes. My focus was completely annihilated. I wondered if I ever would be able to arrange my thoughts in an orderly fashion again. Were my days of homeschooling over?

Nearly eight months have come and gone since that life-altering day. Finally, today I organized our classroom. Everything has a place. The desks are clean and the books neatly line the shelves. Now I begin the tremendous tasks of grading four months of school work, creating progress reports and transcripts for last year, creating new excel worksheets for our new school year, and applying to colleges for Haley. It has been a good day.

At least it was. Going through the mountain of paper work I came across a physics quiz dated May 8, two days before Woody’s death. Tears stung my eyes. I felt the tightening in my chest that always occurs when I remember that once we lived without the overpowering sense of loss. Once my children had an adoring father who loved them with every ounce of his being. Once my husband slept in the bed next to me and kept me warm on those cool nights. Once everything was normal.

We will heal. We will move on as life gently pushes its way back into our hearts. However, it will never be normal again. It aches! I feel as if I have been damaged beyond repair. Sometimes I want to scream and beg for God to rewind time and let us start that day over with different results. Yet, there is no rewind button—no do overs. Therefore, we will continue going forward, one step at a time, knowing that God will restore our joy. God will help us discover a new normal, and somehow we will flourish as we learn to laugh and love again.

For now, I am thankful for the baby steps we are all making as we learn to move again. I will never cease to wish that day had not occurred. However, I cannot change the course God has chosen for my life. Therefore, I will grade papers and focus on homeschooling my children through their last years of high school, one page at a time.

2016: A Year of More or Less?

2016. As I sat alone with God this morning, my number one question for Him was, “What do you want from me this year?” I didn’t ask for a better year—more joy, more love, more money—I asked what I might do in order to bring God more glory. You see, I know 2016 has to be better than 2015. One cannot possibly suffer more than I did last year. So, instead of focusing on “more” I am focusing on “less”—less of me, less resistance, less whining.

Isaiah 55 may be one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. It begins with an imperative given by God:  “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” Everything we need is within our grasp! All we need do is go to the source. When we seek Him first we will find more! I know many may look at my life and say, “What do you mean? You sought God first and look what happened to you! You do not have more! You have less!” I know what my circumstances are. I get that sentiment. Yes, from a worldly perspective, I have less—no husband, no father for my children, less money and a smaller house. However, from a spiritual standpoint, we have more—more of God, more faith, more love. And even from a materialistic viewpoint, we are still very blessed! We still have more than 90% of the world. I hate to think how I would have survived this without God. In all reality, I may not have. It was too brutal, too harsh, too much! So, it is easy for me to stand on the cusp of 2016, and resolve to seek God first and ask what He wants from me.

I may never understand this side of heaven why we have endured the loss of 2015; yet I know my vision is obstructed by what stands right in front of me. I cannot see miles into the future and what lies ahead on the path. I cannot see what is waiting for me, but I do know that today is preparing me for what does. Every day I am in training for what God has in store for my future. As Isaiah 55:9 states, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” I’m okay with that. He has never failed me, never forsaken me. And I know that sometime in the future, I will “go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song” before me.  Perhaps that is what waits for me in 2016. And because I know what my future holds, I will ask God, “What do you want from me?”

We Will Be Okay

I will never forget the face of the EMT who broke the devastating news to me that Woody did not survive the fall. His eyes were full of regret, his brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all he said. No more, no less, but the meaning in those three words was communicated effectively.  My only response was a weak “no” as I fell to a heap on the ground. A couple, who had just come upon the scene, picked me up and held me. They walked—carried really—me to the waiting ambulance where more medical personnel waited, anxious to tend to my needs.

Everything was a blur. They had to be wrong. I asked the EMT’s who were in the back of the ambulance to check again. Someone was mistaken. There had to be more they could do! No. No mistake. They did all they could for him. He was dead. “Pray with me,” was all I could muster in that moment, and awkwardly they complied.  My only thought was for my waiting children whom I had promised hours before that their daddy would not die. And now I must break my promise. I would be responsible for relaying the news that would turn their world upside down.

White County had a chaplain waiting with Hunter, Haley and Haden. By the time I asked one of the EMTs to drive me to my waiting children, I was calm, a miracle really. I do not remember the words I used. I do not remember their response. I only remember that we stood in a circle holding hands with the chaplain and we prayed. Before we began, the chaplain looked around at the circle of blood-  and tear-stained faces before him and said, “I have done this a lot, but never have I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit like I do with this family. You will be okay.”

And here we are. Nearly eight months later, we have survived our first holiday season without the life of the party. We gave thanks for our blessings, picked out the perfect Christmas tree, decorated for the season in which we would celebrate our Savior’s birth, and opened presents one by one in front of the fire place and gave thanks because we were together. We all wrote letters to Woody and placed them in his stocking Christmas Eve and prayed that God would read them to Woody. We wondered what it must be like celebrating Jesus’ birth in His presence. And other than hitting a wall mid-afternoon, I survived being mom and dad to our children and kept everyone cheerful and grateful. We did it!

Somehow God keeps us grounded. Somehow He has brought joy and peace when in all reality, standing in the parking lot at Mt. Yonah nearly eight months ago with my children and a nameless chaplain, I never thought we would ever have again. We have survived a nightmare too terrible for words. We lived through the most traumatizing experience we will ever know, and yet we are sane.

I do not know what the future holds for me, but I do know that I am healing. I now know what the chaplain knew that day—we will be okay.

Beautiful As You Are

I have shared this post many times. However, I believe it is a message that every woman/girl needs at least once a year. You are beautiful! Do not let the world around you define who you are. We have a great identity crisis in our world. We have let an unseen enemy steal our identities and feed us with lies. What's worse is that we believe the lies! We believe we are not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, talented enough, and the list goes on. If you want to know who you are, read Ephesians 1 or John 16-17. You are empowered and loved by the God of the Universe! You are beautiful just as you are!

“I’m fat!”  She looks in the mirror with loathing.  The image being reflected back to her looks nothing like the image she sees gracing the cover of every fashion magazine at the supermarket.  Her physique isn’t dangerously thin; her complexion isn’t satiny smooth and airbrushed to perfection.  Therefore, in this media driven society, she has come to believe that she is fat and ugly.  And as a woman, we have all stood there with her, believing the lies, hating the image.

The reality?  She is perfect.  She is a healthy weight and refreshingly natural for a growing, adolescent girl.  Yet, one can’t tell her the facts enough that she’ll ever believe them.  She believes what she sees, and the voice of truth passes by her like a soft, summer breeze barely noticeable in the heat of the scorching afternoon sun.  The images burn her soul until her self-confidence lies in a heap of ashes waiting to be carried away with the next gust of wind.

God created a world full of beautiful, diverse things.  No two sunsets are ever the same, yet each one is as breathtaking as the next.  Not once do we stop and say, “No, this one’s not pretty.  Only the one that had the streaks of magenta swirling through the slate blue sky in just the right proportions was beautiful.  That’s what every sunset should look like.  And if it doesn’t, it’s not good enough.  It’s not perfect!”  Instead, we appreciate each sunset for its uniqueness.

Of all the flowers in the world, with their varying shades of color, size, and shape, not once have we taken a pure white, slender rose and photographed it (airbrushing out all its imperfections), and placed it on the cover of every gardening magazine and said, “This is the only flower that has beauty worth having!”  In fact, most horticulturists would tell you that those lovely white roses fade very quickly and are difficult to raise.  It would be more practical to choose something with a more lasting beauty that is hardier.

Why, then, does our society do this to women?  And who gets to choose the ideal?

Daughters of America, do you not realize you are wonderfully and perfectly made by a loving God that recognizes what true beauty is?  You are beautiful because you are different!  Psalm 139:13-14 (NIV) states, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”  Did you get that?  God’s works are wonderful!  You are His work!  You are beautiful!  You are perfect just the way God created you while you were still in your mother’s womb.

It’s time to go to the mirror, look at the reflection, and appreciate the image that you see—another sunset gracing the sky with diversity and delight; a rare flower blooming to perfection.  That’s you!  It’s time to embrace who God created you to be no matter what your color, shape, or size.  Be beautiful, my dear sisters!  God created you that way!