Riding my Turquoise Bike Past Her House in the Spring...

I love my turquoise bike.

It has what I call a mama bottom seat. You know, a seat made for a mama-sized bottom. Not some tiny uncomfortable contraption.

I had been eyeing it for awhile, looking longingly through the window of our small town hardware store each time I rode by on my hand-me-down ten speed, taken by the way the sun reflected off it's frosty blue goodness.

It was July, several years ago...the week of my birthday...when Tim handed me the money and told me to go get the bike as a present.

The first place I rode my new bike was to my mother's house. She smiled and said that she was just about to do the same thing. She knew how I loved to ride my bike, and how much I had wanted the shiny turquoise bike that had been calling to me from the hardware store window. She bought me a pink backpack, instead...to carry my library books when James and I rode our bikes to get books. Her house was always on my bike route. And, we would often stop there to pet her dog Pebbles, get James a drink (he is always thirsty), and grab some tomatoes from the garden. Even after she went home to heaven, her house remained on our route. We would stop and chat with Grandpa, pet Pebble, and get James a drink.

I still ride my bike, sometimes with James chatting away alongside me, and sometimes on my own. And, her house is still on our bike route.

Only now, it isn't her house anymore, or mine, or the house of my children's grandmother. Someone else has bought my mother's house. Her husband remarried and moved away last summer. Someone else will wash the dishes in the sink that I washed so many dishes in, while listening to the oldies with the summer breeze blowing the scent of lilacs in the windows, and the faint whir of mopeds humming in the distance.

The first bike ride we took this year we went around the reservoir lifting our legs as our bike sped down the muddy hill, life blooming all around as spring awakens from its winter sleep.  Her house came into view. And, I stopped, overwhelmed with the nostalgia washing over me. My eyes settled on the deck Tim built, where I sat on the swing, watching the boys swim in the pool that's no longer there. My throat swelled, and I shook the tears away.

James was with me, and I didn't want to dwell long on the sad. I didn't want to ruin the first bike ride of spring. Still, my heart ached with such longing I could barely breathe.

Last week, I started off on my ride, alone, over the creek bridge, muddy waters rushing fast, full of spring rain. I crossed the bumpy railroad tracks that surround my neighborhood and past the Methodist church, rode around the school, past the pool park and around the ball diamond, remembering the summers when all my friend Nicki and I did was ride around town, waiting for something to happen and dreaming our summer dreams.

I crossed Main Street and Ron's Super Valu, then over more bumpy tracks until I reached her road.

I've mentioned before how each season, the missing washes over me anew. Spring is no exception.

But this year, this year is different.

This year, when I ride past her house, the house where I grew up, I cannot stop and get a water and pet Pebbles.

I road by, drinking in the sight, allowing the ache to fully envelope me. My eyes settled where the flag used to fly so proudly, her rock garden that she and Grandpa proudly laid by hand, the pink stencil she painted on the gas tank.

Her lilac bush, not yet blooming.

And, her clothesline...with the clothespins still clipped to the top. She loved to hang the clothes out to dry in the summer breeze, and was quite dedicated, even tromping out in the mud in her snow boots.

That did it. The tears spilled over, and my chest heaved, as I pedalled away from the memories, the hurt, and the missing. Or I tried, but it followed me. It followed me as I rode over the bridge where the wildflowers bloom tall in the summer and past the field still muddy with spring, over the tracks again and around the reservoir hill. Still...I pedalled my turquoise bike, tears streaming, chest heaving.

By the time I rounded the corner of my road and pulled into my stone driveway, the tears were dry.

I rolled the turquoise bike into the garage, hugged my husband, and started supper for my family.

Time marches on, and the missing washes over me anew each season. It probably always will. Even more reason to make memories with those we love. Even more reason to soak in the gift of right now, with a grateful heart. Even more reason to cling to Jesus, and not the fleeting things of this world.

For, no season on this earth lasts forever.

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A Blessed Easter to you and yours....love and prayers for those missing someone during this spring season of hope and renewal.

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:25-26

Shopping and My First Black Friday Part 2...and Please Pray

I survived my first ever Black Friday experience intact. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed a rather peaceful drive to my friend Nicki's house in the wee hours of the morning, smiling at the memories of shopping with my mother and laughing at the hysterical "good-bye" note written to me by my oldest son on a paper plate...showing tongue-in-cheek concern for my safety. I took the road with the belly-getter hills, thinking of her. It felt as if she was in the car with me, the memories were so close. I could sense one of those Daddy's little girl days in the works...you know, those days when it's evident God has gone before you and leaves little blessings throughout the day...and you feel just like "Daddy's little girl".

And, it was like that...

I wish I had something more exciting to report, but other than one disconcerting moment when a pack of wild dingo-type shoppers dove in front of us for some item I couldn't see under the pile, I saw nothing disorderly. We quickly found the bargain I was looking for, were handed a ticket by a polite Wal Mart employee, and waited in a short orderly line for the coveted item. I saved $40 on the gift for our youngest son...and jumped up and down after the purchase! We finished our shopping and checked out in lawn and garden without even waiting in line!

Nicki (who happens to be Sawyer's mama) and I shared laughs and memories throughout the day. We marvelled at how easy and pleasant everything had gone...and I smiled, feeling not only the closeness of my sweet mother, but the blessing of my Heavenly Father throughout the day. I'm so glad I went. So glad I didn't let the tug of guilt keep me home. I would have missed out on the blessing of that day...and the gift of time with a good friend. Who knows? I may even have a new tradition. We'll see! =)

In other news...

Please pray for us as we prepare for tomorrow. Our band, One Way, will be doing the worship music at Holgate United Methodist Church and I will be sharing our family/ministry testimony. Please pray that the Lord would go before us, that He would give the words, that others would be encouraged and that He would be glorified. On a personal note, this is only the second time my husband, Tim, has heard me share the account of our journey. And, it can bring so many emotions for us. Praying for His strength...that He would enable us to be vessels for Him...even in our broken, imperfect state.

Also..don't forget to join us on Monday to kick off the SGM Christmas Extravaganza 2010. We will be sharing the ways that we remember our loved ones at Christmas and other memories. Be ready to link your post on the Walking With You page on Monday. This is for anyone missing someone they love this year....not just grieving parents. And, there will be some blessings offered to those who participate...yes, I am bribing you...but it's for your own good! We'll call it incentive...or positive reinforcement. =) I hope you will join us. It was a blessing for those who participated last year.

Shopping With my Mom and My First Ever Black Friday Experience Part One

I am not supposed to be awake for another thirty minutes, but I've been tossing and turning for a couple hours, so here I am. Not sure whether it's the massive heartburn from too much delicious food (if I do say so myself), the memories of shopping with my mom, the sweet smell of baby Max (my beloved nephew, who feels more like a Grandson) still lingering on my neck, or the fear of my first ever black Friday experience insighted by the frightening tales of crazed shoppers regaled by Grandma Isa during our Thanksgiving meal...that's keeping me up.

I've never in my thirty-five years experienced Black Friday shopping, although I've heard stories. Many stories. And, secretly, I've always wanted to go...just once. It doesn't really fit with my personality to do something crazy like this. I'm not materialistic, and I'm certainly not an aggressive shopper. But, I won't lie. I do love a good deal.

My mother loved a good deal, too. I don't believe she participated in the insanity of Black Friday, but during some shopping excursions, she was known to be a formidable foe. Although, she was a tiny thing...never weighing much more than 100 pounds, she was mighty. She could be just as sweet as honey, but if you crossed her or "did her wrong" or did not display proper customer service....look out and step back!

I am not like that. If someone pushes me, I will get out of the way. Most of the time. ;) If my mother were with us, and she saw someone push me, she would have knocked them over with her cane! She was a feisty force to be reckoned with. To this day, if we have poor customer service, Timothy says, "If Grandma R. were here, she wouldn't stand for this! She would make a huge deal of it. Remember how she always did that?" It's funny how the things that might have made you crazy about a person can become endearing to you once they're gone. What I wouldn't give to hear her stand up for truth, justice, and good manners in the middle of Bob Evans.

Needless to say, I probably won't come out on top during the Black Friday festivities. Let's be honest here, I'm just hoping to survive this thing, get a few laughs with my longest (longest sounds better than oldest) and one of my dearest friends, Nicki, and have some interesting stories to share on the blog for part 2 of this little adventure. Nicki...remember when we watched that silly movie, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure back in the day?? I'm betting this will top that! =)

I so miss shopping with my sweet, feisty mama. In the wee hours of this morning, the memories flooding my heart and mind leave me both smiling and aching for her. I remember being on bed rest with Faith and Grace and having her wheel me around in a wheel chair so that I could get some early Christmas shopping done. We always fit in some crazy Christmas shopping, buying my beloved Mariah Carey Christmas CD, tons of mauve Christmas ornaments at the old Hills store, filling the cart with goodies for her grandbabies. She loved Christmas and she loved her grandbabies. She always made Christmas fun and special, and she always wanted to give to those she loved at Christmas...and give big!! No matter how difficult the year had been, or what might have been going on in our family at the time...we always had Christmas...and she always had a child-like twinkle in her eye as she watched us open our gifts.

I remember shopping for the red suit I wore when I was Homecoming Queen (with white gloves because mom said that the Homecoming Court should wear gloves), and the modest cream pantsuit I wore on my wedding day. How she squealed with delight the first time she could buy new camping equipment and later...on one of our final shopping trips how she purchased a new tent for a trip we never made it to. She even talked about shopping during her last days at the hospice center...telling me I needed to get her something to wear so that we could make a stop at Bed, Bath, and Beyond on the way home. She needed rugs.

We ladies can be determined about our shopping, can't we?

I have much more to share on this...but for now, it's off to this crazy adventure. It may be the only time I try this...and I'm praying I can make it home safely. I'm kind of wishing I had that little 100 pound mama with a cane beside me. And, maybe I'm crazy...but in some small way, it feels like I do. She is probably cracking up from heaven right now!

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Stay tuned for Part 2 and for more Christmas memories coming up in the next several days. There will also be opportunities to win some wonderful Christmas giveaways (What can I say...I love to give to those I love at Christmas, too!). A very special Walking With You is coming up on Monday for anyone who is missing someone they love this Christmas. We are sharing the ways we remember our loved ones and other Christmas memories. You can link up and join in to win some lovely Christmas treasures. So check in Monday for details.

Hope you all had a blessed Thanksgiving...love to all...

The Drive

Giveaway has now closed. Winners have been announced. You may still leave a comment, but it will not count toward the giveaway. Thank you! =)

Tuesday evening, I took a drive.

Not just any drive...the drive.

I've been meaning to take that drive for a couple years, considering the idea of soaking in every whisper of the memories from four years ago when I drove that path many times from home to you.

It's the road that takes me to the place where you took your last breath on this earth. This week, before the anniversary of your passing, boasts all of the beauty of Earth's splendor...nature's last hoorah before the dark cold winter...God's artwork. And in a way, maybe only to me, a send-off celebration...a beautiful goodbye to you. That's what it felt like when I drove that path over and over again four years ago. The glorious celebration of color, such a contrast to the darkness of death's sting surrounding you.

I didn't miss the contrast then. And, I didn't miss it on Tuesday's drive.



As I approached the turn, I let my eyes wander to the house that always let me know the turn was approaching. It looked like a peaceful place to live, I thought. I remembered how I noticed it one last time four years ago, the dark night I drove home telling people the news that your battle was over, and you had gone home.



As I made the turn, I felt the weight in my chest and the catch in my breath. I opened the sunroof, so that I could allow every nuance of this drive to soak itself into my senses. I wanted to breathe it all in, deeply. I didn't fight the memories...the flashes. I let them wash over me, as I gazed at the magnificent beauty before me.








The name of a housing development...The Sanctuary did not go unnoticed. I turned up Jim Croche's "I've Got a Name" and drove on with a smile. Feeling entangled and free all at the same time. Letting the weeping and rejoicing dance their dances over and through me, I lived each memory of laughing with you and crying with you...fighting with you, hurting with you. I smiled as I thought of your spirit...how every time we drive on a hilly road, I accelerate at just the right point so that we can fully experience one of life's great gifts...the "belly getter" just like you used to. My kids love it as much as I always did. As I parent a teenager, I am acutely aware of all the time I spent fighting the wrong fight for the wrong reasons. And, all the fighting I watched you do most of your life, even in the end. I thought of how you sopped up every inch of joy in every moment life offered you...even making us laugh as your body failed. Your spirit never did.



I looked up through the sunroof as I drove through what could only be described as a tunnel of autumn splendor. The leaves surrounded me forming their own blanket, a sanctuary, if you will. I drove on...to the place where I last heard your voice.

I turned into the driveway and the memories pushed their way into my psyche with such force, they ran into and overlapped each other in their efforts to be remembered. I remembered all at once the day we brought you here...the day I collapsed in exhausted delirium, the day I returned after a rest, and the day I left after four weeks of watching you suffer more than I thought was humanly possible.

I entered the building to use the restroom, walking past two women, who were there to visit a loved one, waiting in this place where people go to die. The door was locked and a hospice nurse approached me to lead me to another restroom. She led me down your hallway, past the chairs where we contemplated decisions, conditions, breathing patterns, and what to eat for dinner. Past your room, where we slept and listened to my brother's stories and the rhythm of your breathing. The memories coming at such rapid fire speed, I staggered into the bathroom and felt the eruption of emotion...wondering for a moment why I made this drive. I let the emotion come, and made my way outside to the beautiful ponds and the serene path I walked so many times.



I remember walking this path to let out my anger, to cry, to pray, to refuel, to look at something beautiful and alive for a few minutes. I walked it with my kids, walked it while pushing your big hospice bed around the bricks and listening to your snarky humor as you tried to keep my huge sunglasses on your face. I watched James feed the ducks and marvelled at how intertwined beginnings and endings are as life and death weave their way through our days. I remember reading each brick, the names of those who have gone before us...feeling somehow less alone and realizing once more the precious gift of life each of us is given.




As I opened the doors that led to the path of serenity, I heard a group of ladies in the lobby begin to sing what might have been a hymn. The emotions were swarming my senses with such fury, I'm not sure. Suddenly, the doors closed behind me and all I could hear was the sound of the fountains.


Oh, Lord...will you meet me here again? I felt my feet hit the bricks. My eyes scanned the names through the tears. The cool air filling my nostrils and breathing deep into my lungs. I crossed the bridge to a little clearing with a bench. I sat down and soaked it all in for a moment as the peace settled over me like a soothing balm. The fountains sprinkled, the crickets chirped, and I began to read scripture aloud, letting the words join the melody of peace soothing my weary soul. As if the Lord whispered through His comforting words of peace and truth..."I've got her, I've got you. I am here." I prayed a little, wept a little, and let the Lord hold me a little in the place where you breathed your last breath on this earth. Then I stopped to read one last brick, leaning down to wipe my hands over the name of a treasured life...a beautiful soul that once walked this earth and now brightens heaven with her exuberance.




As I got into the car to drive home, I saw an ambulance bringing someone in. I sighed with a heavy heart, and left the place where people go to die. On the way home, I talked with my "in real life" Lynette and she mentioned a story someone shared where the hospice wing was referred to as the "birthing rooms". Perhaps in light of that, it would be better to say it is a place where people go to live...eternally that is.

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If you are new to this site, this post is about my sweet mom who passed away four years ago on October 20th after a very difficult battle with cancer. She was just fifty years old. I miss her dearly...

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Giveaway is closed....winner has been announced!

I know this is a long post...and if you're still hanging in, I'd love to share today's giveaway with you. We are offering a free copy of Mary Beth Chapman's book, Choosing to SEE, to one commenter on this post. Anyone can enter and leave a comment. You do not have to be a grieving parent (as is the focus of the rest of the giveaways this week...which you may also wish to check out!) No matter what we are facing in this life, it is always good to choose to SEE the Lord working through it all.

Blessings...

The Passing of Time and Some Upcoming Events...Yes, it's a Hodge Podge

October has arrived, and I realize I've been a little absent in blog land. Truth be told, I've been soaking in every minute of my oldest son's high school golf season. Yes, in the grand scheme of eternity...not the most spiritual of matters. But, the heart of a mother learns to love what her children love. Their passions become our passions. When something means the world to them, it means the world to us. While it's certainly important to keep an eternal perspective, it is also a worthy thing to soak in the time we have with our children and let them know how much they matter to us. It isn't really hard to do. I love watching my children soar with the gifts and abilities that God has given them. And, I know my time following my oldest son on the golf course is growing short, as he just finished the golf season of his junior year. I won't lie. It is one of my favorite things to do. Watching him swing that club, surrounded by the most splendid display of earth's beauty. So, forgive me if I seem a little less focused from August to October. I am soaking it in, and time with my children is fleeting.

I marvel at the way time passes. Here we are in the midst of another autumn shrouded in memories. This is the time I usually relive the last moments of my mother's life, mixed in with the memories of Faith and Grace. It is generally commemorated with sleepless nights, flashbacks, and an agony of missing as my body relives those last weeks...even while my mind resists. This year has been a little different. The flashes are there, as I walk on to the soccer field and remember "the phone call"...and other times that bring the memories back. But, the passing of time is a force of it's own to be reckoned with. This year, there are so many current good-byes looming that the past good-byes are being pushed aside to make room. They are still there, of course...just shifting. I suppose this life is a string of good-byes...with a few hellos along the way.

My mother's house is for sale/rent. The house where I...in true teenage diva form... argued with my mom, while getting ready for my first Homecoming and my last. (I will be taking pictures of my son and his girl later today, as he prepares for his next-to-last Homecoming.) Last Sunday, I had to go and get some of Mom's things out of the house, so that someone else can move in...a trip I've been putting off. It is a strange feeling...going through the personal belongings of one that you love, realizing that the things we cling to in this life, really do not matter. We are just passing through, and the only things we can take with us to heaven are the people whose lives we touch by sharing the love of Jesus. I know this may not be a popular or uplifting thought to some. But, it is true. And the tangible knowledge of this truth is really working it's way into my heart.

While we were there, I tried not to remember all the Christmas mornings we laughed together in the front room, the times I checked my reflection in the full length closet mirror before a date, laughing on the edge of my bed with my best friend Nicki, swimming in the back yard pool back when I could still swim faster than my little brothers, laughing with my own kids in the same pool. My heart aches with the memories. But, as we loaded her items into our truck, I willed my heart to be numb and shook each memory from my mind, even as I felt them squeezing my heart.

I remember the first time I walked through mom's house alone after she passed. It struck me, all the little touches of "her". A woman's house is filled with her touches....she pours her heart into making her home a lovely haven. And, her signature is all over it. I never once walked into her house, since she has gone home to heaven, and didn't for just a moment expect to see her laying on her beloved couch...followed by the heart breaking disappointment that she wasn't there, that she would never be there again. And, now...it is likely that I will never walk into that house again. It may seem silly, but sometimes when her house was still there...it was as if a piece of her was still with us. I'm still sorting through the emotion of the idea that someone else will be in my mother's house...that when we go on a bike ride and check on her lilac bush, it will no longer be her lilac bush. Every rock that she and my grandfather placed in the landscaping around her house...and the mailbox she was so proud of...no longer hers. The driveway where she swung me in the air with joy as I told her I was expecting twins. Someone else's car will be parked there. Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye all over again?

And, why do I feel the strong sense that we are just passing through...that the things I treasure (actually there are few earthly "things" that I treasure) will someday, at best be just a faint reminder that I once walked this earth...and at worst a burden of clutter to my children who will wonder what to do with it all...and most likely a little of both? Maybe this is why I'm not inclined to be a collector of things...and now even less so.

O.K....enough of my cleansing melancholy....so sorry to have taken you all there. God is working it all out in my heart...it's just fresh right now, and working through these matters takes time. The nitty gritty stuff of life is not something we can tie into a neat bow and wrap up in a little blog post.

So...in other news...

For those that are not local, please pray for the upcoming Sufficient Grace events...

And, for those that are local, please consider attending and/or supporting this month's festivities.

October 5th ~ Speaking at Napoleon Church of the Nazarene Women's Ministry

I will be sharing our family's journey of God's sufficient grace and presenting about Sufficient Grace Ministries at the Napoleon Church of the Nazarene on Tuesday October 5, 2010 at 6:30pm. All ladies are invited. I believe there is a small entry fee (just a few dollars). Come for an evening of encouragement, food, and some fun thrown in, as well!

Fundraiser hosted by the Napoleon Church of the Nazarene Women's Ministry

The Napoleon Church of the Nazarene is hosting a fundraiser to support the Food Pantry and Sufficient Grace Ministries. On October 15th and 16th, a photographer will be doing children's photo sessions. The pictures will be antique black and white with a splash of color. Special, fun antique clothing is provided for kids up to age 16. Cost is only $10 and you get a coupon for a free 10 x 13. You may order more pictures, but you are under no obligation to do so. You may sign up with either Kelly Gerken or Teresa Brown by October 9th. Times available are 10am-8:15m both days. List several options when you sign up so that we can find a time that works for you. This sounds like a fun way to get adorable pictures of your children and support two wonderful local ministries. I hope to see you there!

Please email me if you have questions.

I will be announcing some upcoming events to commemorate Pregnancy Loss/Remembrance Month soon. Also, please take a few minutes to encourage and pray for this week's Walking With You mamas. Thank you so much for those of you who are still reading!

Love to all...

Favorite Bible Verses

This week at Kelly's Korner, bloggers are sharing favorite bible verses. I have been thinking about that this morning, and feel compelled to take part...only I cannot choose just one. There are several, and even this list will not cover them all. The wonderful thing about the Word of God is that it is living...Holy Spirit-breathed truth that is always able to speak to a seeking heart in every circumstance. Sometimes the same verse can speak to you in a different way at a different time.

Some of my favorite verses over the course of my life-journey so far...


Love this promise that reminds me over and over again of the new life I've been given in Jesus...
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. ~ 2 Corinth. 5:17

This verse is the one from which we chose the names for our sweet Faith and Grace. Over the years, this verse has spoken to me so many times...reminding me of the gift of grace I have been given...reminding me that there is nothing I can do to earn this precious gift...reminding me that even the works that we do, He has prepared for us in advance, that He created us with a purpose in mind for His glory...

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. ~ Ephesians 2:8-10

Thomas' verse...sweet Thomas, how your life taught us about believing without seeing:
Jesus said to him, “Thomas, because you have seen Me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
~ John 20:29

When my mother was diagnosed with cancer...and many other moments of my life, when I needed to remember to look at the unseen promises of eternity...

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. 17 For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, 18 while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal. ~ 2 Corinth. 16-18

The promise God whispered to my heart over and over again as my mother's time on this earth was passing quickly...the same promise that inspired the name of our band, One Way...the same promise I have clung to many questioning nights...

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. 2 In My Father’s house are many mansions;[a] if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.[b] 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. 4 And where I go you know, and the way you know.”
5 Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?”
6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.
~ John 14:1-6

Another promise for my mother...and for me...

Even to your old age, I am He,
And even to gray hairs I will carry you!
I have made, and I will bear;
Even I will carry, and will deliver you.
~Isaiah 46:4

It's no secret this verse means a lot to me...oh, how we have experienced His sufficient grace in our lives...
And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

And, this one, which our ministry is based upon...

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ~ 2 Corinth. 1:3-4

When life gets tough...when the waters rise...

Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.
For I am the Lord your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
~ Isaiah 43:1b-3a

Do not remember the former things,
Nor consider the things of old.
Behold, I will do a new thing,
Now it shall spring forth;
Shall you know it?
I will even make a road in the wilderness
And rivers in the desert.
~Isaiah 43:18-19

There are so many more, of course, but these are just a few that are especially dear to me. What are some of your favorite verses?

Have a wonderful Friday...and thanks so much for stopping by!

Baby Love

When my mother was expecting my baby brother, Sean, we prayed each night that God would bless him...along with every other member of our family. Every sultry southern night, we said our child-like prayers in the Florida home where we lived for a short time. I was in about fifth grade and more lonesome for our Ohio home than I ever thought a person could be.

When Sean was finally born, he developed colic several weeks after birth and howled from the depths of his lungs from morning until night. If mom wasn't holding him against her tummy and walking with him, I was. We took turns singing to him, doing our best to soothe his little, aching tummy. It was like that from that day on...one of us always holding sweet baby Sean. And, Sean...howling much of the time.

As he grew a little older and I entered Jr. High, I would push him in the stroller up and down the bumpy Ohio sidewalk...doing my best to keep him happy. I remember his red and white striped bibs and crazy strawberry blond hair that would always stick straight up and out no matter how we attempted to coax it otherwise.

We babied him and mothered him and loved on him something fierce. He was probably one of the most spoiled children in all of the land. And, we didn't even care.

I am ten years older than Sean, and have always felt a mixture of big-sisterly and maternal love toward him. But when our beloved mother, our constant, and the most important person in Sean's world... laid suffering in the last days of her life at the hospice center, my heart ached for him above all others. Those days I felt a bond with my sweet brother, even deeper than before. We walked that path together. I will never forget how he loved her, how he stood by her side, how I watched my baby brother as he was thrust violently into adulthood in the harshest way imaginable. I couldn't protect him. I couldn't keep this harsh reality, this terrible loss from him. He was an adult, of course, and perfectly capable of growing up. But, I wanted to protect my baby brother, to soothe his hurting heart, as I had always done. And, I couldn't. This hurt was one I couldn't take from him.

He has grown into a kind-hearted young man who works hard at his job (with my husband actually), and now, he is a father. My baby brother is a father! While that makes me an aunt (again...because our other brother also has children), I have always felt so motherly toward Sean...and even more so since mom's passing...that I have joked that I "feel" more like a grandma! (I'm not, though...so don't get any ideas about Grandma jokes!!)

I was so excited for the birth of this sweet boy. A baby to hold again, when it has been so long since my arms have held one. My mother loved babies so much. She always said, "A baby is a blessing. No matter how they come to be." And, she is so right. Sometimes the blessing comes unexpectedly and sometimes we are prepared. But, sweet new life...is always a blessing! And, she loved her own baby, my brother, so dearly that she would have been over the moon that he was going to be a dad. Of course, even in our expectation of this new life, we felt the impact of missing her. At the same time, I felt a closeness with her, knowing that she would want me to make it a happy occasion. She would want this child to be celebrated. So, celebrate, we did.

Two weeks ago today, Max Michael was born to Sean and Megan. And, I couldn't wait to get to the hospital. I felt the waves of missing and closeness to mom, mixing in a contradictory blend that somehow made sense as I drove to the hospital. We waited with Sean until they were ready for us to meet Max, and as we walked into the room, I stopped.

(I cropped her name out so because her maiden name is listed on the sign. But, it was there...and is still on that sign today.)

By sheer "coincidence" (I think not!) unbeknownst to them until later, Megan and Max were place in the room on the OB floor that had been dedicated to our sweet mother. They were in mom's room! Even as I longed for mom to share this moment with us...to oooh and ahhhh over Sean's baby with me...to spoil him as rotten as we spoiled my baby brother so many years ago...it was as if she was there, smiling down on us.

I took Max into my waiting arms and felt a love swell in my heart akin to the love I have felt for my own sweet babes. Again, I smiled, knowing how my mother would love him, just as she would love our brother Chris' son, born in the month of her birth. Somehow I could feel the warmth of her love, as if it were filling my own heart and spilling out on to sweet baby Max. If we can see our loved ones from heaven, I have no doubt that she would have been allowed to peek into that moment. If I know my mother, she would have done all the negotiating heaven would allow to be able to see the birth of her grandbaby.

James and Timothy took turns holding him, and grinned like proud cousins.



Sean looked more like a grown-up than ever to me as he held his look-alike son, and at the same time I could still see the two year old with strawberry blond hair looking up at me from his stroller.

James took these pictures of me with Max...





When I looked at them later, I was stunned as the memories swirled into the reality of the circle of life. I had to look twice because with my hair cut short and the expression on my face, I saw my own mother in the pictures of Max and me...when she welcomed my babies years before. I dug up (and scanned) a picture of her holding James nine years ago.



She may not be here physically, but the evidence of her life undeniably lives on in her children and grandchildren.

Now, I'm off to hold Max for awhile! Have a beautiful day!

Loose ends, Sawyer update, and Dreams of her...

I'm getting ready to go to the Women of Faith Conference in a little bit. Just to give you a little window into the willy-nilliness of my life, I'm still not packed. That's just how I roll. And, at 5:52am, I'm not even going to apologize. I will say, though, that I do admire all of you who are organized and together. It's a beautiful quality. Unfortunately, I am wired differently. I won't say that isn't a challenge for my very organized and structured husband at times...but God gives us both sufficient grace. He is faithful like that.

If you're wondering who is claiming the ticket I announced was still available (through a series of twists and events) yesterday, you'll just have to keep wondering. If all goes as planned, there will be some pictures to share....maybe even a plethora of pictures. And the mystery will be solved. I'm sure all two of you out there in blogland are just on the edge of your seats waiting to know who will come to Women of Faith with us! Don't worry...all will soon be revealed. =)

I don't know about all of you, but whenever I'm going somewhere, I feel like I have to tie up all the loose ends in my life before I go. (Not that it ever happens...it's just what I want to happen!) As if being gone for less than 48 hours is going to cause some sort of irreparable havoc in my life. So, for some reason, while I am yet unpacked, just hours from our departure, it seems necessary to write a blog post. The craziness of the way my mind works...aye, aye, aye!

So...some bloggy loose ends...completely unrelated to one another...

If you've been praying for baby Sawyer, thank you so much. Please scroll down to previous posts if you don't know Sawyer's situation...just not feeling the Linky this morning. Yes, I'm aware that typing all these words to explain not linking is probably more work than clicking around to do the linking...again, how I roll. At least this morning.

Sawyer did have the procedure to close up the opening left from his open heart surgery, yesterday. The last update was the procedure was a success and one little hurdle in this situation of seemingly endless hurdles is behind him. Please continue to pray for this sweet baby and his family as he heals and faces the next hurdle. (His mama is one of my best friends.)

Speaking of best friends, I'm feeling a little Steel Magnolias-ish this morning. You know, what with getting ready to meet up with some women of faith in my life and worship with about 40,000 other women of faith. And, as I think of the beautiful women of faith I'm going to meet, thoughts inevitably drift to my own mother, a place my mind goes often in a day's time.

I long to hear her sweet laugh and see her smile...the one that dances in her eyes and warms the whole room. I won't lie. My mama was a feisty gal. And, she and I didn't always see eye-to-eye. I'll be the first to admit that I spent most of her life missing out on all the gifts she had to offer. God did redeem all that was broken between us in the last years of her life. But, I have many regrets over the gifts I missed...the gifts she offered the world. I know when someone leaves us, we often only hold on to the good. But as time goes by, I don't see anything wrong with only seeing the good in those we love. Maybe, we should do it more with those who are still with us. I think I kind of like that, and I'm going to embrace it. Actually, I think it's a biblical concept even...check out I Corinthians 13.

Anyway, I miss my mother with a missing that I cannot convey with words. Even when I dream of her, my missing comes out. The ache is so acutely with me that sometimes I am taken aback by it's strength. My dreams of her have not always been a comfort. So much about the suffering at the end of her life remains unsettled in my psyche. And, I suppose it's all trying to work itself out in dreamland where I can't push it back down under the layers where I'd like it to stay. Dreams render you helpless like that.

I won't get into details here about all of those dreams, but I do want to share about the last one. To tell you the truth, most of them I'd rather not relive.

One of the things I long for the most is to just stand in the kitchen with her, or the laundry room while she does ordinary things and we chat like mothers and daughters do. Many of you are mothers aching for your children. I share that ache with you...those dreams for all that could have been. This ache is different. It is for all that was and all that could have been. I never dream of my babies, although I wish I could. It seems it would be a comfort to feel them in my arms, even if just in dreamland.

So, I was delighted when in this dream, I was allowed to do one of the things I long for most. As always, there was a little bit of reality in the dream. The reality is that my mother's house will be going up for sale soon. So, in dreamland, my stepfather was packing their things in the other room. I was in the kitchen feeling the usual weight in my chest. And, I looked up and saw her standing at the kitchen counter, wiping the crumbs. (She hated clutter and a crumby counter.) She was smiling and in no hurry at all.

"Mom, you're here!" I ran to her and hugged her tight, something I did too rarely in real life. The questions followed of "where have you been" and "I've missed you" and "There's so much going on". Some part of me in the dream understands that she has been gone...that she has died, even as I'm talking to her. I didn't dwell much on that this time. This time was different. I laughed with her in the kitchen, as they packed her life away in the other room. I laughed with her as she sat at the kitchen table laughing with her grandchildren and doing some craft. I laughed with her while she was in the laundry room. (She really had a thing about laundry. She hated to get behind and was meticulous about the way it was done. I did not inherit this trait, much to my family's chagrin.)

In many of my dreams, there is little comfort as I work out all that I didn't know was inside me. But, in this dream, as we stood in the kitchen and I prepared to apologize again, as if I could somehow have prevented all that happened, she put her hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes and said the words I must be longing to hear...

"This is not your fault."

She hugged me and I inhaled the smell of vanilla and Tide, drinking in the beauty of her face and the feel of her arms around me, knowing even in my dream state that our time was short. Peace settled in my heart and I awoke with her memory still hanging in the air. It felt as if I did spend time with her. And, I was grateful, even if it was only a dream. Oh, the glory that will be revealed one day when I'll never have to wake up from that dream as we laugh with those we love in heaven's glory.

O.K....now that I got that off my chest...I really do need to pack! We will be visiting hospitals in Columbus today to give them some information about Sufficient Grace. Please pray that God will open doors and that we will find favor and make the appropriate contacts. And, please pray for God's protection and all the other loose ends as we march forth.

For now, I'm off to get my Women of Faith on!

Love to all...

----

Sixteen

Sixteen years ago, I was just one year out of high school...Tim still had one year to go...



Sixteen years ago on this bitterly cold January night, we bounced along in my mother's blue minivan, on ice and snow covered roads. Mom drove frantically, as I moaned and breathed through each contraction. A nervous eighteen-year-old, Tim tried to remain strong in the backseat. He may have leaned up to talk to me every once in awhile, to whisper words of encouragement. He may have held my hand. He probably did. But, I don't remember. I just remember the snow and ice, the anxious excitement, that look in my mother's eyes...that fierce I-will-meet-the-challenge-brave-the-icy-roads-protect-my-daughter-determined-mother-look.

We were so young...

I had been contracting regularly for some time, and by the time we went to the hospital, the contractions were about five minutes apart. They were getting stronger. I breathed through them for hours as my labor progressed at an agonizing snail's pace. More than twenty-four hours of contractions, (finally) an epidural, and a complicated delivery later, on January 20th, our Timothy was born. I became a mama. And, Tim became a dad.



In one, amazing, miraculous, life-changing moment...we were parents. Oh, the gift this boy has been to our lives. We thank God for all the ways his life has blessed ours. What we have learned about love, grace, life, loss, and family as we have walked through this life and grown-up together, in many ways. He is more man than boy now, as he prepares to get his driver's license and sasses me with his man voice or rolls his eyes to exert his independence. But, when I look at him, I sometimes still see my sweet four-year-old boy, still hear his deep belly giggles, still feel his hand in mine.




Sometimes, I miss my boy...but, even though we don't always see eye-to-eye, I am also thankful for the young man he is growing to be...


Sixteen years ago, I received an amazing miraculous gift...I became a mom!




Happy Sixteenth Birthday, Tim!

Dancing and Giggling...

My mother loved Christmas. Every year, no matter the circumstances of our family (and believe me, sometimes there were some difficult circumstances), she always made Christmas special! In the days leading up to Christmas, we enjoyed many shopping trips to purchase ornaments and look at all the decorations. She loved decorating...some years the house looked like Vegas inside and out with all the lights!

I remember the year I was on bed rest while pregnant for Faith and Grace, she wheeled me around in a wheelchair so that we could have a little Christmas shopping fun. And, after they were born, we shopped for the perfect ornaments to hang in remembrance of them. But, that's another story.

The year we were into everything mauve, burgundy, and Victorian, Hills had a bunch of ornaments on sale. And she bought me a cart full! After an especially rough year, she bought me a new pre-lit Christmas tree. We had the best time!

Since she has been celebrating her Christmases with Jesus the past three years, I have missed her greatly. The missing that often visits washes over me every year the first time I walk into the Christmas aisle. And, yet...her love for that very thing compels me to go there so that I can remember and feel her closeness. My boys hear me say, "Grandma loved this...she loved Christmas." They say, "Mom, you always say that." I smile and ache all at the same time. Then, I remember her gift for finding the joy in everything...her uncanny ability to not just make lemonade from lemons, but to enjoy the lemonade with the glee of a little girl.

Tonight, James and I had the best time eating dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. James appreciates a nice restaurant with some good bread dipped in oil and Parmesan, excellent Italian cuisine, and ambiance...ahhh, he is so a boy after his mother's heart! I love my food, you know! Of course, it was the icing on the cake that Biaggi's puts paper covering over their lovely white, linen table cloths so that children can draw on them.

After dinner, we went to WalMart to get some essentials, and there it was...the Christmas aisle. I took a deep breath as the missing washed over me, and I looked down at James. "Come on mom, let's go look." His eyes lit up with excitement as he appreciated each ornament with the fullness of joy that comes from the heart of the young and from the rare soul like my mom who manages to hold on to that ability long into adulthood. She gave me that gift, by the way. I smiled, and said, "Grandma would love this...she loved Christmas." James started filling the cart with a few little ornaments...he was exuberant when I allowed him to choose a few.

Then, we spotted the animated, musical stuffed animals. James and I started pressing the buttons to see what each one would do. We danced and giggled in the middle of the WalMart aisle, as I remembered all the other times I have freely giggled with my mom and friends over the years. But never before, have I had such a great time giggling deep belly giggles with anyone as I did tonight with this sweet gift of a boy that God gave me.

I just love him...

Thank you, God for deep belly giggles, one of my favorite sounds...especially the kind that happen right in the middle of the missing, reminding me that she will always be part of us. She would've loved giggling deep belly giggles and dancing in the aisles of WalMart. And, because she did...we still do.

Falling and Dancing...

I meant to write a post on the week of October 20th because that day marks three years since mom went home to heaven. I planned to tell you of the beauty of the drive we travelled along the river, to stay with her in the hospice center, as the trees exploded during the last couple weeks of her life with a rainbow of colors. I even thought of taking that familiar path and photographing the beauty so that I could share it with you. But, I didn't take the drive. Instead I'm sharing some flowers that my friend, Tracy sent to me in memory of mom...flowers with all the colors of fall...just like the ones in God's painting the day He took her home.

It is an amazing annual display...better than any painting created by man's hand. God's artwork, His glory displayed in full splendor. It was a symphony of color for the eyes as she left this earth. Each year, since she has gone, I notice it more profoundly...the last hurrah before the stark contrast of winter. During that week in October, an explosion of color...and just a few short weeks later...almost all the leaves have fallen.

Of course, the demands of life kept me from posting...and truth be told, there are several other things I should be doing right now instead of writing what is on my heart. But, even delaying this post, it has been on my mind. And, I know how this works...it won't leave my mind,until I have written it. So, here I am in all my frazzled, tired, overstretched, imperfect glory.

I have been thinking of how I was really just learning to dance, learning to celebrate the joy of being a new creation, just finding out the freedom that lies in complete surrender to the Lord. Three years ago, I felt so blessed that my cup runneth over. God had restored my joy after saying good-bye to our babies, restored my family, blessed us with a love that comes as beauty is made from ashes, blessed us with a ministry. He had blessed my relationship with my mother and restored all of our brokenness. My heart was healed in many ways. And, I was learning to dance.

Then, she left in the midst of the symphony of autumn beauty...and I drove home along the river road that night, exhausted, numb, grateful that her suffering was finally over, grateful for the promise of heaven, and having no idea the ache that lie ahead for my heart. I had no idea how hard it would be to keep on dancing without her.

The leaves started to fall the next week. I thought of the bitter irony...how the leaves are allowed to be at their most spectacular just before they fall silently to the ground in an anticlimactic end. Then, I thought that I could relate to the leaves. I had just begun to dance again, really for the first time, in many ways. And, then I started to fall.

The ache I feel for her washes over me anew with each passing season. The missing is with me daily. Even moments of precious joy are clouded with her absence. That doesn't mean that I don't feel joy...or that I don't trust in the Lord and His promises. I do. But, for the past three years, I have been doing more falling than dancing.

Don't get me wrong, there is beauty even in the falling...for when we fall, we are caught in the arms of a loving Savior. We are comforted in our sorrow by a compassionate Father. We are carried by the hands of a mighty God. I read these words from the heart of a grieving mother (Once a Mother) recently, and they struck a cord in my heart. I encourage you to read her incredible description of the falling. She ends her beautiful poem with these words: The beauty of life, too, can be found, in those moments that are out of our control. In those moments we fear most. In the falling.

I remember the times that I have found beauty in surrender...falling on faith as I stood on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by fog, taking the next step to where I could not see if He would catch me or not. There is beauty...great beauty in falling into His waiting arms. It is a place I have walked. And He has never failed to catch me. And, there is a time for falling.

Still...I haven't been dancing much...not like I was before she left. My blog-friend, Lynnette is a wonderful dancer. And, her way of dancing through life is a way that I share in my heart. It is a way I have known well...a way of living that I believe God has for us. Yet...lately, I haven't been acting on it.

My mother was just learning to dance when He took her home. I had been dancing for a little while when she left. Her dance was perfected in heaven's glory...and she dances still. As for me...I don't think it was in the plan for me to stop dancing. I'm not saying I have stopped, but...there's been sort of a limp in my step. I know some of that is just the missing of someone so dear to me, and I'm not trying to mask the missing.

It's just that I think it might be time to start dancing again. If she can see me from heaven, she and my sweet babes...I think they would agree that it's time to dance again. And, I bet my Father in heaven...the One who created me for dancing would take great pleasure in seeing me dance.

So, I am praying and venturing in with tender steps...hoping to learn a new dance...and knowing that even as I type these words, God has a plan to teach me the most beautiful steps yet...

September Wind

I can feel the September winds blowing in, filled with intoxicating memories that swirl around me, pulling me to that place of remembering moments I ache to experience once more and moments I never want to revisit.

Her birthday was in September. She turned fifty in a hospital bed, smiling as she ate a piece of my famous peanut butter cream pie...laughing carelessly with Pastor James (who incidentally, if I recall is among the two people in the whole world that did not profess my pie as the most wonderful thing in all the land!!). I was wishing she didn't have to endure the treatments much longer. She was determined to continue fighting.

I remember the day they said the word cancer. Actually, the oncologist spouted off a thousand other unrecognizable words. The kind of words that doctors use when they don't really want to tell you the findings. Words are easy to hide behind.

So, I finally said, "Are you saying she does not have cancer?"

"No," he said. "I am saying she most certainly does have cancer."

We walked out of the room, after she promptly told him that she would make him famous when she beat this cancer. He pulled me aside and said, "I need you to understand. It's not good. What we're dealing with...It's very serious...it's bad."

I guess it was easier to tell me than to look into her determined, beautiful eyes and say those horrible words. I appreciated his honesty, though. From the places I've walked, I'd rather know what I'm dealing with head-on. Once you know that you are not invincible...once you know that it's possible to lose someone you love...it's kind of always with you. That possibility.

I acted strong, nodding to the doctor, smiling at my mother. I felt the room start to spin, as I struggled to steady myself. I thought, "If I could just get to the bathroom before anyone notices." I barely made it inside the door, when I collapsed against the wall, my body shaking with the sobs of a helpless little girl...not the strong woman of faith who had been carried more than once through the sea of grief by her loving Savior. But, a little girl...whose mother was filled with a hideous disease that would steal her health, her body, her mind, and her life...but couldn't kill her spirit. The sea of grief swirled around me, taking me captive with swells of images from other times when death's darkness stood mocking me...as he threatened to steal the ones I love. I resisted crying "NO" from the depths of my soul as the memories washed over me, "I'm sorry there are no heartbeats...they're gone"..."a condition known as Potter's Syndrome"..."incompatible with life"...and, now..."cancer...it's not good...very bad". I cried out to God, begging him to spare her...to spare all of us. The sorrow had it's way with me in that oncology office bathroom. Then I wiped my tears and walked out, stunned to face a life that held that ugly word.

She had "cancer of unknown origin" that they think possibly started in her lungs. It had spread to her lymph nodes, her brain, her bones...it was everywhere! They said she had two weeks to six months. Two weeks? I couldn't even process that. Thirteen months and tons of chemo and radiation treatments later, she sat in that hospital bed on her fiftieth birthday, lighting the room with her smile.

Growing up, we had a tumultuous relationship. I was so head strong...always wanting to establish my independence. I spent most of her life missing all of her gifts and her beauty...all of the things about her that made almost everyone who knew her fall in love with her. She had that kind of gift about her. She was so beautiful that people were held captive by her, even after the cancer treatments left her bald and thin as a rail. Didn't matter. She glowed with beauty. I spent most of her life missing it...but when that word was spoken, everything between us disappeared. All I could see when I looked at her was the person God created her to be. All of the barriers between us tumbled helplessly when that word was spoken, and we could hug and laugh and share our hearts. As often happens, there were precious gifts, even in the face of such hideousness.

A few weeks after her birthday, we made the trip we had taken so many times down river road...the one with all the big beautiful, extravagant houses. She had one picked out on that road. Only, hers was a little cottage with some hanging baskets on the porch. She always did prefer the simple things in life. The leaves were a myriad of colors, exploding with the majesty of fall as we drove the winding path to the hospital for a visit to the ER to help manage her pain. It was just a "routine" pain management visit. We should have gone home later that day. We made jokes in the ER and giggled. I looked over and she was out cold...resting from the medicine they had given her. I felt the relief a mother feels when her baby is resting, knowing that she was not in pain at that moment.

They decided to keep her in the hospital over night. But it soon became clear that this time was not like all the others. She wasn't making sense and could barely wake up. When she did, she seemed like a little girl. I realized that I couldn't leave her in the hospital when I saw the condition she was in the next morning. She stayed for three days, and our very large family surrounded us as we tried to make sense of what was happening to our mother. In and out of consciousness...barely coherent. Where had she gone? I was just talking to her hours before. I can't describe to you what transpired next. The memories overwhelm me.

All of her doctors agreed that the next step was to take her to the Hospice Center or a nursing home. The cancer had spread throughout her body and it was only a matter of time. They said, "Maybe 48 hours." We had promised her that we would not put her in a nursing home, so we reluctantly chose the Hospice Center, thinking that it would probably only be a few days. We decided right away that we wouldn't leave her alone. So, we stayed there with her...sometimes all together, sometimes taking shifts. The Hospice people were amazing...and we are so grateful for their compassionate care.

Forty-eight hours turned into four weeks. For four agonizing weeks, she suffered in a way I never knew it was possible for a human being to suffer. We didn't sleep, except for a couple hours here and there when we would collapse out of exhaustion and then we would awaken in a panic. I sang to her, prayed over her, read scriptures...as I've described before. What I haven't described is the depth of suffering she endured. And I won't...I can't. Only the ones who were there can understand what it was like. All I can say, is that it shook me to the core...trembling the very foundation of my faith. There were, of course, glimpses of joy in the midst of sorrow and gifts...even in the pain. She would awaken sometimes and we hung on every word, when she was able to speak. We never wanted to leave...desperate to soak in every moment we were given with her...and wanting to be there, when she was finally carried Home.

I won't lie...I begged God to take her Home. The suffering was so much...and I couldn't bear to see her in such agony. But the moment she left us, I realized that her leaving left us without her. And, the missing came. The missing was like nothing I ever thought possible, either. And, if anything, it has intensified with time. Every September - October, when the leaves change and start to fall, and the fall winds blow...the missing washes over me anew...and the memories flood my mind. I even resist sometimes...wanting to just keep my eyes on Jesus and rest in His comfort...wanting to just enjoy the land of the living. But, almost involuntarily, my body reacts. I can't sleep in September and my heart aches with the missing of her so deeply, I am overcome. The memories flood my mind. The sights and smells and feelings of fall all bring with it that time.

I walked into her house this afternoon to let out her dog (which we do for my stepfather every afternoon), and the ache was stronger that I could contain. I felt suddenly so desperate to see her sitting on her couch. It's been three years, and I don't know when I'll be able to walk into her house and not feel disappointed that she isn't laying on her couch. I walked through the house, stopping in the kitchen as I remembered the feeling of "home" when we would stand there, laughing about when we were kids and the silly things we did. We would tell stories in the kitchen. I washed countless dishes in that kitchen (those who have known me a long time always laugh, because it seems I'm always doing the dishes...and have been since they've known me!) I thought about how if she were here, she would laugh at my "teaching Timothy to drive" stories and annoy me as she told him the stories of "teaching me to drive when I was 16"! I can't explain to you the bittersweetness of those memories or the depth of the ache. I can't explain how it feels to stand in the kitchen of your childhood home and feel like your "home" is no longer. It disappeared with her. But, if you have felt that kind of missing...if you have lost someone you love like that...someone who was your constant...your definition of family, you know.

There are so many things that a mother fills in our lives. Sometimes I wonder where she begins and I end. So much of our mothers are part of the person we become. You know, you can't really brag about your kids to anyone but your mother. No one else gets it, cares, or loves them like she does...like you do. She would love to hear about Timothy going to the Homecoming Dance, and James scoring a goal in soccer. She would be excited to hear her grandson's name on the radio for having the lowest round of golf. She would relish it and wallow in it like Grandma's do.

For the rest of the time I walk this earth, something...someone will be missing. Several someones. Eventually that is true for all of us, and I know that. We will all lose someone we love. I also know that there is comfort in the arms of our heavenly Father...that one day, we will see them again. One day, I'll laugh with my mother and hold my babies. I know, until that day, His grace is sufficient and He will carry me...I know all of that. But, right now...I'm just aching with missing...swept into the memories of a September wind.

Wearing Out

I don't know if I've written here how sad it makes me when things change. Some changes are good. But, I'm not talking about the good kind. I am sad that bodies wear out, that stuff breaks, new gets old, and gold loses it's luster. I may have even written how much I like the stability of things staying the same. I don't know, and quite frankly, I'm too tired and worn out to search my posts and see if I've shared my love for this sleepy little railroad town where I grew up, or the school that I attended as a girl, where I am currently employed. In fact, next year my son will have the same third grade teacher that I had in third grade.

Some of our dearest friends have been our friends since we were twelve. Some...even longer. They know everything about us. Some, I wish knew a little less than they do! When James and I take a bike ride, we take the same route over the same bridge where I rode when I was a little girl, dreaming my summer dreams. (Timothy used to ride with me, too...but you know little boys don't stay little and some get too cool to go on bike rides with their mom...another sad truth. =) As a matter of fact, Timothy just had his first driving experience yesterday, after getting his permit. That deserves it's own post, let me tell you.

I have grown more fond of things staying the same...of memories from a simpler time...especially since my mom went home to heaven. I find myself looking around, soaking it all in, breathing in each moment. Sometimes I'm caught somewhere between the memories flooding my mind and the present moments I want to soak in for future memories.

One of my favorite summer past times is to float on my back in my mom's swimming pool. I would look at the blue sky and the trees blowing in the breeze. It was calming to look at things that have always been there. Peace would settle in my heart at the thought that I was looking at the same blue sky and green trees that have always been there...floating in the same water as when I was a little girl (back when we used to listen for the boys to ride by on their mopeds!). It had some sort of soothing effect on my heart. It was as if for just a moment, the world seemed right again. Not everything had changed. Sometimes, it almost felt like mom was just inside napping and she could walk out the door any minute. And James could say, "Look what I can do, Mama!" as he did a cannonball off the side. I would close my eyes and smile.

Maybe I've said some of this before...I don't know. If so, I'm sure I said it better than I'm saying it now. I'm a little rambly (Monica says it's a word...so I'm using it!) and nostalgic. My boy is driving a car. My mom isn't here to share it with. And, only she would truly share it with me, you know? And, the swimming pool where I have spent many a summer...including the beginning of this summer...has worn out. It is now completely taken down and will not be replaced. I will never float on my back in it's soothing waters again.

And, I feel like another part of me has died. Another chapter has closed. I know that things wear out and change. Bodies wear out. Swimming pools don't last. Nothing on this earth lasts forever.

And...I'm sorry if I sound a little sad...but I guess I am. It's a little sad all the wearing out that goes on this side of heaven. One of my favorite things about heaven (besides spending eternity with my Savior and my loved ones) will be that we never have to say good-bye. Nothing will ever wear out again.

Several weeks ago, our church had a baptism at our friends' house. They have a swimming pool. Our church does full immersion baptism...so we used their pool. Tim and I had the privilege of sharing the worship songs. It was a lovely time of fellowship and fun after the baptisms took place. (Of course, I cried through each one because almost nothing gets my heart like seeing a changed life in Christ! I love me a good baptism, yes ma'am!) We sat around talking and laughing until well after most people had left. Tim and Pastor James exchanging their little one-liners like usual... Pastor James amusing himself at the antics of the Gerken family...All of our little quirks, like what Tim's favorite breakfast food is. (I can almost guarantee you could never guess what it is!) It was great fun...and I wished it could never end.

For just a moment, I was thinking of what the fellowship might be like in heaven. The laughing and celebrating. The enjoying each other. And, the best part...it will never have to end. Of course, I'm sure it will be way better, even. Exceedingly and abundantly better, if I know anything about the amazing God we serve.

You know what else I was thinking? Well...I'll tell you anyway. I was thinking that people don't sit in each other's back yards sipping lemonade and laughing together anymore. No time to just swing on the porch swing and tell tales until the lightning bugs appear. I was watching Steel Magnolias the other day (I know...it was just on the TV, O.K.! And, O.K. the truth is "laughter through tears", as Dolly so eloquently put it, might just be my favorite emotion, too...O.K.?!) and I was noticing how much the women gathered together to talk and hang out...to share life.(Yes...I know it's a movie...but women have gathered together in times past.) I wish we did that more in our society today. The other night, I took a walk and chatted with a friend. It felt so good. We need each other. But women aren't gathering as much, anymore.

I think that's why I love this blog world. We aren't gathering in back yards as much, but we can gather here. And, the gathering can be even bigger! I guess this is like our gathering place where we can sort out our feelings and share our lives...where we can shed tears and give virtual hugs, where we can share victories and sorrows, prayer requests and praises...where we can give and receive love and encouragement. I'm so glad I've come to this gathering of women who are so dear to my heart.

Thank you for letting me into your back yard...for sitting on my back porch...for showing me love...and letting me love you...

Thanks for listening...

A Little Piece of Heaven on a Sweet Summer Day

For those that read my blog, you may already know that summer is my favorite season. (Not that I would remember that detail about someone else, but you may!) You may also know that we said good-bye to my precious mother in October 2006, after a grueling battle with cancer. And, you may know that with every season the missing of her washes over me anew, with fresh intensity. As always, mom is on my mind today. And I would like to share with you one of the most beautiful summer days that there has ever been...at least in my little life.

In the summer of 2006, as the hospital bills mounted, we decided to have a benefit to help defray the costs and lift the burden from mom's (and her husband's) shoulders. I prayed and wrote several goals...praying specifically over each one. Never having hosted a golf scramble benefit, I wasn't sure what to expect. In the beginning, I was timid as I approached people, but when I saw their willingness to give, I grew more bold. Realizing that this was not about me...about my pride. It wasn't even just about helping with the money anymore. But about the opportunity to show my mother how much people cared, how loved, valued and treasured she was to every life she touched.

The journey was amazing. Almost everyone had a story about how mom had touched their lives. And I was able to share each one with her. We knew that short of a miracle, she would not live much longer on this earth. And, soon...the golf benefit became a way to honor her life. We invited non-golfers to come to the dinner afterward. And hundreds attended. Businesses gave triple the sponsorships on my tiny little goal sheet. (God's ways are higher than our ways!) I was hoping for 18 golf teams. There were 36. More than 200 additional people came to the dinner in addition to the golfers. There were dinner sponsors, cart sponsors, non-alcoholic beverage sponsors. People donated auction items which earned even more toward the cause.

Friends and family gathered, overflowing the place set aside for dinner into the pavilion and the patio. People gathered beneath the blue sky, dotted with white fluffy clouds and laughed and smiled. As I stood to say something before the outing began, I was in awe of the carts lined up, filled with people who loved my mom, our family, or who loved us...everyone who had a story. Overwhelmed with the beauty of the day. Overwhelmed at all that people were willing to give. The beauty of the day took my breath away...and I could barely speak. It was like experiencing a little piece of heaven on earth.



Mom and I had gone shopping a few days before to pick out a cute outfit for her to wear. If you know anything about us, you know that is an important detail. We had been praying that she would feel well enough to attend. And that she would be blessed as her life was celebrated. Mom and I always took comfort in joking about things that most people wouldn't. It was a way of coping, I guess. Humor is a frequent favorite way of dealing in our family. We said that we were hoping that this would sort of be like a funeral, except you're still here and we can tell you what your life has meant to us...a celebration of life. And it was indeed.

Friends from past and present came. Family joined together. There was even an amazing surprise. Mom's favorite teacher and best friend from school later married (as adults!). They had moved far away, but happened to be in mom's home town for a visit. They saw the flyer and decided to come right over. None of us had expected them, so it was a super surprise to mom. Amazing...that God wanted them to be there...and He worked it out.

I can't explain the glow of my mom's smile, the joy that shone in her eyes. The picture on my sidebar was from that day. It was amazing and beautiful. One of the most beautiful days of my life. It was as if God opened up the heavens and said, I see you dear Kathy, and you are dearly loved. I thought that this must be just a little piece what heaven is like...the joy and unity and goodness. The celebration of life. We will never forget that day...and the people who shared it with us.




The first picture above is my mom and my brothers and the kids. My brother's wife is in the picture, but Tim is missing! =( Just to prove that he really was there, the second picture above is my sweet husband and his golf team, who won the event! Tim is on the far left. I included this pic because Tim was sadly left out of the family photo, in the frenzy of the day. He was still out golfing or eating dinner...and I just said go ahead and take the pic. I so regret my hastiness now. I am horrible at realizing the importance of getting pictures for memory purposes. I am learning the hard way, though and (hopefully) won't make the mistake again!