John Wesley

When I was old enough to be thinking that someday I might be a mother, I was certain that I would most definitely give birth to sons. (Deep down, I'm pretty sure I knew that the only way to avoid having a daughter who put me through the kind of hell I put my mom through would be to not have a daughter at all!) With every pregnancy I could just "feel it"...I was definitely having a boy! So, imagine my surprise when I heard the words "it's a girl"...THREE TIMES!! After three tries I was done. No boys for me.

Who knew that God indeed had a little guy in store for me and that he would be packaged in some beautiful olive skin with two huge brown eyes and a melt your heart smile?

That little guy graduated from The Grace Place tonight and I have to admit, I got a little misty eyed! He could not be more excited about going to Blue Haze with the girls. As we walked out of the sanctuary tonight, he told a complete stranger, "I'm gonna turn six next week!" (Total lie! He just turned 5 four months ago!!)

Here he is in all his cuteness (and don't let that precious face fool you, he's definitely not as sweet as he looks!)

Never in the history of TAKS football...

has Blue Haze taken the championship! With Abbee at as the Quaterback (for at least two plays!), Blue Haze defeated North in double overtime and then forged on to beat reigning champions Liberty! To say she is "highly stoked" would be an understatement. With Coach Estes leading the way, Blue Haze made history...congratulations everyone!

New Mercies

It's amazing how God speaks to you even when you are trying to avoid him altogether. I've found that the anger phase of grief has crept over me even though I've tried to pretend it has not. The fact is, there is something so frustrating about loss. You can't wrap your brain around it. No matter how you try to comfort yourself with the "it could have been worse" speeches, you find yourself replying, "yeah, but it could have been better!" And that's what makes me angry. My dad should still be here enjoying his grandchildren because he invested so much in his family. I feel like he got robbed somehow...like we all did.

As much as I ache and as much as I want to have a big fat pity party, I know that the reality of this life is that death and loss are part of the deal. We are all born into a world that is guaranteed to bring us heartache. That truth left to itself is pretty depressing and when left unrefuted can bring great despair. But we are offered more. That "more" comes to us in a little package called hope.

While I have been trying my hardest to avoid God, he has been holding me tightly... sending his message of hope through the love and compassion of others. A couple of days ago, I opened my email to find this:

Lamentations 3:22-24
Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

[These are the words of my friend who sent the email]
The study I was reading along with this said that God gives us the mercy that we need each day. He doesn't give us a huge lump sum of mercy - he gives us what we need, a little at a time. I'm guessing that is so we continually have to come back to Him and ask for more. He's not going to give it all and send us on our way to deal with our problems.

Anyway, I was curious how The Message would say it, so here it is (the extended version!)

v.19-24, 28-29
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,
the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed.
I remember it all - oh, how well I remember -
the feeling of hitting the bottom.
But there's one other thing I remember,
and remembering, I keep a grip on hope.

God's loyal love couldn't have run out,
his merciful love couldn't have dried up.
They're created new every morning.
How great your faithfulness!
I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over.)
He's all I've got left.

When life is heavy and hard to take,
go off by yourself. Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer. Don't ask questions:
Wait for hope to appear.

And so God spoke his truth into my life. And I do believe that God will continue to hold me up and gently remind me of his love until I am somehow able to stand firmly in his truth again.

And to all my friends who are thinking and praying for me...thanks.

It's been four weeks...

...since I watched my dad leave his earthly body behind. The past week has been super hard for me. I've found myself weeping without warning...in the car, at my desk, talking on the phone...utter despair would sweep over me with such force that suppressing the saddness was not even an option. In an effort to quit reliving the final days, hours, and moments I spent with my dad, I've been trying to remember some of the things I loved about him, no matter how insignificant. Here's something I just thought of...

When I was young, and would get a hankerin' for something made mostly of sugar (you know the hankerin' I'm talking about!), if the pantry offered no solution (which, in our house, it typically did not due to the fact that twinkies, ding dongs, donuts, and the like never lasted more than about thirty seconds after my mom returned from the grocery store), I would go take a peek inside my dad's lunch kit. There, with 100% certainty, I would find that perfect something to make my taste buds sing and dance! And if you knew my dad, then you know that it was never found in the bite size variety! Inside his secret little box of delight, I could usually find a KING SIZE snicker bar, Reese's cup, a chic-o-stik, some bit-o-honey, or if I was super lucky, a carbonated beverage of some sort! And, I would help myself without even asking. I would totally take my dad's stash all the time! He never asked who took his goods either. He would simply replenish the stash...sometimes with a little extra something to let me know he had my back!

My dad was a generous man. I miss him terribly.

Finding the Grace

I'm not sure how I got to it (I think possibly a link from John and Brandy's blog) but tonight, I found a video interview of a couple who just experienced the loss of a child. It's strange because, although their circumstances are so completely different, as Angie (the mom) spoke, I heard my own thoughts spoken...I mean exactly what I've been thinking and feeling not only since my Dad died, but even in the weeks leading to it. She completely described the turmoil I was experiencing while he was in ICU. She spoke of the strange balance between preparing for the worst while still holding on to the hope that God will perform a miracle. That was EXACTLY where I was in those two weeks I spent in the ICU waiting room.

Even as we watched my Dad's blood pressure drop, his heartrate slow, and his oxygen sats plummit, I remember still thinking, "God, it's not too late. I believe you can still heal my Dad even now in this moment where every scrap of evidence is pointing to the contrary, I believe you can. So, please, God, heal my Dad." I guess I spent more energy holding on to hope than preparing for the worst because when the worst happened, I was completely disappointed in God. I felt abandoned. I felt silly for expecting a miracle. I began to ask questions like, "Who really gets miracles anymore?" I was angry with myself for believing God would heal him and I was angry with God for not doing so. Perhaps I am still.

Angie said something that really resonated with me. It's something I would have said I already believed, but I have never really had an opportunity to trust it until now. She said, with God, there are no plan b's. My dad's death was plan A from his conception. And, although, I've been caught off guard, God hasn't. Strangely, that brings me a little peace. I guess I'm learning a new way to trust God. I'm no longer trusting that he's always going to show up big and keep me comfortable with my plan A, but I'm having to trust him as he is carrying out his.

I must admit that this kind of trust is uncomfortable. It stretches me beyond the place in which I feel secure and puts me in a place where I can no longer make sense of life. I can only try to trust that God's plan A is working for my good.

God's plan A doesn't feel like it's working for my good. It hurts so deeply that the pain is indescribable. His plan A has brought me despair like I've never known. His plan A took my Dad out of my life and forever changed me. But, for some reason, for this small moment in time, I am finding the grace to trust him.