Release...

I have not written in this blog in a LONG time. I have had many "that would be good for the blog" moments but for one reason or another I didn't write. In a nutshell though, we are doing really well. Girls are growing up too fast, so I am not missing a moment of it!  We are so blessed!  I need to be better at updating not so people know about me, but because Judy and I made a pact that we would carry this blog on to help other young women in similar situations. 

The other night I was emailing a close friend that is helping me with some projects around the house and planning a girls trip.  As I was about to close the email, I started unexpectedly journal the feelings I have felt for the past weeks, but could not quite put them into words. This is what I wrote...with the help of The Holy Spirit.  

"On another note, but kind of on the same, I think I am going through a new phase of all this "grieving" process. They say it is different for everyone and it is so true. In the past 3.5 years I have lived life and carried on my role of whom I became [9 years ago] - wife and mother. It has not been easy to let go of the wife identity. I think it was easier for me to carry on like that (or at times thought I would meet someone and instantly be "wife"again). It has taken me these past 3.5 years for me to be able to let go of that role [and identity].  It recently came to mind that part of the reason it has been so hard is that Mark and I had made 1 and 3 year goals (the January before). [We actually sat down, discussed, dreamt and wrote them down]. 

I have accomplished most of the goals, at least the ones achievable without him. Things I never in my dreams thought I would do without him. Things that hurt so much to not  have him physically next to me and our girls - [yes that "unfathomable" pain.  The amazing part to all this is that not once did I sit down and tell myself I had to achieve these goals... All have been presented to me - almost on a golden platter - all I have asked for is for God's will to be done.  It has been so amazing to see how loving, gentle and generous God has been with me.  And amazing to share all of this with my daughters. 

 What got me through each of those things was my faith of him [Mark] being right next to us. ..allowing us to never feel alone. The girls and I have spoken about him so much and being such an amazing father and man, I am happy that we have had this time together, the 3 of us, so the girls could get to know - through me- who Mark was as a father and husband and how our marriage worked.  It has helped me validate my married years.[ The short almost 6 years I was married were truly wonderful and full of love. His love for our family has given me incredible strength.]

As I plan for this next year, I am realizing we can do new things, visit new places, make new choices and make decisions with confidence because we are ok.  

..... I am feeling somewhat released yet so loved. It is so hard to describe what I have felt. I have realized that my mom had been so right...she would say that I was completely in love with Mark still. [She would tell me that I still had that glow when I talked about him and that I was not ready.]. I told her "of course I was in love, he was my husband and we loved each other very much!" (and in my head I would tell myself "he is"). I have had to let go gradually... Very slowly. It all happened so quickly.  I know now what emotions to let go and what to keep holding on to. I am ok with being a wife in the past and not being one now, because I am doing the best job I can being a mom and I have honored Mark everyday in that way. 

It is time for newness. I am released. I am confident. I am happy. A facelift to the house (keeping it humble though), venturing out, and living my life the way it is now and liking it even more. Thank you God that I have this in my heart. Please preserve it. 

freedom...

I became a widow on the third day of my thirty-first year.  Widowed at thirty-one and now a single mom to a son who was one year, three months and three days old.  The single mom thing wasn’t new as I had been without a spouse for sixteen months.  Sixteen months he unconsciously fought for his life in a hospital bed before finally being called Home. 

The months after Keith died are a blur, but one day I was finally ready to start thinking about the future.  I whole-heartedly believed that there was a future for me as well as for my son, Brooks, but I didn’t know what that future looked like.  In my mind I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know if what I wanted existed. 

I remember finally deciding that I needed to move on.  I didn’t know if the Lord had someone else out there for me, but I knew I needed to allow myself to be open to the idea.  I began to think about this possibility and I came up with two options:  I hold out for the perfect man – someone who meets my criteria for husband material as well as father material – or I find someone that I am compatible with to be an excellent father to Brooks. 

The perfect man would be nearly impossible to find.  I wanted someone that had never married before and didn’t have any children.  I was hoping there was someone out there that fit that criteria because he was too busy focusing on his career and never met the right woman rather than having some giant character flaw that kept him single.  I wanted someone who was sharp and funny and kind and generous.  I wanted someone who loved the Lord and loved children.  And since I was making this list of the man who probably didn’t exist, I added one final desire that would knock out 99.9% of the male population – I wanted someone who knew Keith.  I wanted someone who knew the man that I loved with all of my being because then he would truly understand the heartache that I endured for so long and be able to be patient with me as I lived this thing called life. 

The good father would be easier to find.  I knew he was out there.  I was certain I could find someone that I cared for and who would be a good father to Brooks.  I remember wondering if I should just take one for the team.  Should I find someone that I could potentially love, not be in love with, so that Brooks can have a father?  Should I settle for less than what my heart wanted and marry someone so that Brooks can have that male influence from someone other than his grandfathers and uncles?  Or do I hold out for the perfect man who would meet the needs of both husband AND father?

This was a tough decision and I finally realized that I had to let it go.  I released the burden of my future and decided to live in the present, knowing and being satisfied that I might possibly live out my days as a widowed, single mom. 

There was such freedom in releasing this choice; it was no longer my decision to make because I gave it to God.  That’s when I realized that this uncertainty, the uncertainty of my future, wasn’t my burden to bear.  I was trying to get through the day with this stress strapped to my back when Jesus was at my side asking to carry it for me. 

When I finally gave it to Him, when I surrendered my future to the plans He had for me, there was freedom.  There was so much joy and freedom I decided that I needed a vacation.  I had quite a lot of airline miles accumulated from paying hospital bills that I could literally go anywhere in the world.  Around this time I saw something posted on Facebook from an acquaintance, Patrick, who had recently moved to Australia.  Australia.  I could visit Australia.  I talked to a couple of my girlfriends and asked if they wanted to take a trip over there and they said yes.  I reached out to Patrick, who used to live in the same building as I did when I was married to Keith, to see if he could help us plan an itinerary and maybe let us crash at his place for a couple of nights. 

As Patrick and I corresponded about my trip across the world, we fell in love.  We fell hard and we fell fast.  He not only hit all of my criteria, but he surpassed it and I hit all of his.  I knew he was the one for me and I knew the Lord was just waiting for me to put the ball in His court rather than keeping it in my own.  Without Him and His guidance I would have just been spinning my wheels not going anywhere.  I had to release my plans and be satisfied in the present to gain the freedom and blessings that He had planned for me in the future.

And that’s what He wants.  I think it grieves Him to see the chains we place on ourselves.  Why are we limiting and restraining ourselves when we were made to be free?  The sooner we can release things to God the sooner He can put us on the path to His perfect plan for our lives. 

 

Finding Extraordinary Purpose in the Ordinary Days...

Four year olds are exhausting.  Twins are exhausting.  Day in and day out, life is exhausting.  The mornings are exhausting; the afternoons are exhausting; the evenings are exhausting and the nights are exhausting.  There are some days that I am so tired that I wonder what I did all day to become so tired, only to become discouraged when the answer seems to be “nothing.”  Days where it seems nothing of purpose is accomplished.  Days where I’m exhausted from the sheer monotony of having three kids at home.  You know the days…the ones that make you feel like this:

Thankfully, I believe we are out of the “trying to survive” stage.  We entered this stage after the girls were born and we began adjusting to life with two newborns.  One baby can be tough.  Two babies can test your limits.  During this stage I would wake up and just try to make it through the day, only to wake up the next day and do it all again.  I remember a phone conversation Patrick had with his mom and she asked what we were going to do that weekend.  Our answer?  Just try to make it through it. 

Currently we are in the “being alive” stage.  There are good days and there are bad days, but days are no longer survived; they are lived.  I can do more than just bathe both girls.  I can bathe the girls, make lunches, straighten up the house, play with Brooks, cook dinner and maybe even run an errand.  Again, sometimes the daily grind can be discouraging, but at least I am able to make a to-do list that no longer has to have “shower,”  “brush teeth,” or "get dressed" on it.  Luckily, showering, brushing my teeth and getting dressed are pretty much guaranteed in this stage of life.  And with the passing of each day I know I am one step closer to once again being in the “able to thrive” stage. 

Our church back in Australia has a blog entitled Selah Moments and it’s a place where women share perspectives based on the word of the month.  The word for July is “honour” and I wrote the following piece: 

As I contemplated this word, honour, I found myself asking, “What am I doing to honour God?”  Initially my response was a superficial one: I’m trying my best to live a life that is pleasing to Him.  But what does that really mean?  I pressed myself and began to dive into a deeper understanding.

While considering the question of what I’m doing to honour God, the parable of the talents was brought to mind.  Matthew 25:14-30 tells the story of a master who entrusts talents (NIV says bags of gold) to his servants.  Three servants receive five talents, two talents and one talent, respectively.  The servants who received five and two talents both doubled their portions while the servant who received only one talent dug a hole and buried his master’s money.  To the two who doubled their portion, the ones who went out and DID something with what their master gave them, the master said, “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.  Come and share your master’s happiness!”  To the one who buried his talent, the one who chose the safe path, the path where nothing was lost nor nothing was gained, the master said, “You wicked, lazy servant…throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness…”

“Talents” in this parable can parallel many things.  As I began to think about what the Lord has entrusted to me, the first thing that came to mind is my family.  How am I honouring my husband?  How am I honouring my children?  Am I an encouragement to them, doubling my portion?  In what areas are my strengths and what areas need strengthening?  Do I choose to honour them on a daily basis because honouring them truly is a choice and making this choice is easier on some days than others?  What am I doing to honour God?  By honouring them I’m honouring Him. 

“Talents” can also take the form of money, as was the case in the parable.  Am I being a good steward with the finances God has provided?  Is tithing a priority?  Am I honouring Him with how we choose to spend our funds?  Because, again, this is a choice and, again, it’s an easier choice on some days than it is on others. 

Finally, “talents” can reflect what God has blessed us each with – particular gifts and talents.  How are we using these gifts?  Are our abilities being put to use or are they simply buried, not accomplishing anything.  In some cases, these talents might have been buried so long that we’ve completely forgotten about them.  God didn’t bless us in areas only to have us choose to do nothing with it.  He wants us to use our talents so that we might bless others, in turn, honouring Him. 

This word, honour, didn’t encourage me.  It didn’t inspire me.  It convicted me.  I want to choose to live a life that gains the response, “Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.  Come and share your master’s happiness!”  I want to honour God by honouring what He has blessed and entrusted me with – my family, my finances, my talents. 

I wanted to share it here as an encouragement for those stuck in the daily grind.  I started viewing ordinary, everyday tasks as ways to honor God and it has benefited me greatly.  It has given purpose to the days that seem uneventful.  It has allowed me to see those days for what they truly are:  the opportunity to pour into the lives of my children.  Viewing these moments as a chance to honor God by honoring my family has made me a better wife and a better mother.  There is a renewing in my spirit that was absent before I changed my outlook.  The monotony of the previous days has been replaced with a joy and a love that can only be granted by the Lord and for that I am grateful. 

cherish...

I recently wrote this for our church in Australia and thought I'd share it here as it's been a while since we've updated this blog.  The original post is HERE.

As I rocked one of our twins back to sleep one night a single word was brought to my mind:  cherish.  The word for June.  I reflected on all of the Lord’s provisions in my life and thought about all that I have to cherish, including our most recent double blessing, twin girls.  I stared at them and my heart swelled.  While rocking my sweet baby girls I was overcome by all of the blessings in my life.  The entire world was right and it was not possible for my heart to feel any fuller.  Back and forth we moved as we were surrounded in total peace.  This time is most definitely a cherished time.

I love the time I have where I can experience them one on one, holding them close and soaking up their presence. There is nothing they can do to make me love them any more and there is nothing they can do to make me love them any less.  They have nothing to give and nothing to say; all they can do is just be. 

This is how it should be in our relationship with God, our Father.  Often times I neglect getting into the Word because I don’t have enough time to really dive into it so I don’t do it at all.  I shy away from praying for others because I fear I don’t have the right words to say or I won’t make any sense.  When I do this, I am missing the big picture: it’s not about words on a page or words spoken; it’s about spending time with Him. 

The Lord doesn’t want my time spent with Him to be burdened; He wants it to be cherished time.  In fact, He cherishes it more than I do.  There is nothing I can do to make Him love me any more and there is nothing I can do to make Him love me any less.  As I draw near to Him, He wants to hold me in His arms and surround me in total peace while he renews my mind and soul. 

It’s been several years since I’ve been reminded of this parallel between parents and newborns, God and His children.  However, this parallel isn’t just with newborns; my husband and I see it even as we parent our four-year-old son. 

I love how He uses our every day lives and situations to give us a glimpse as to who He is and what He’s about.  How humbling and truly awesome it is to know the Creator of the universe cherishes His time with us, regardless of our age and the season we’re in.  That He would look at us and desire to soak up our presence is a concept I can barely wrap my mind around.  I John 3:1 says, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!”  And as children of God we have unrestricted access to this cherished time with Him. 

rainbows...

I saw this picture that Mariana put on Facebook the other day:

It was captioned: 
One of the many rainbows we see every day in our home...

they bring such joy!  They are in every room of our
house...we have even seen them in the garage at night... 

We get them too.  It's crazy; they are all over our house at any given time.  The other day Brooks was taking a nap and when he woke up he started laughing and yelled, "Mama!!! Come here!!! Look what was next to me while I was sleeping!!!"

 Not only was it right next to his head...

It was directly above where he was sleeping as well.  :)

happy mother's day...

Happy Mother's Day to all of the wonderful moms out there and a very special wish of a fantastic day to my mom, Jan, and my mother-in-laws, Marilyn and JaNell.  We are so fortunate to have you in our lives and we love you all very much.

Today was the first time I celebrated a Mother's Day in the traditional "family" sort of way and I received the best present I could have asked for.  Brooks was taking a nap and Patrick and I were sitting around talking.  At one point Patrick looked at Brooks and then told me to look at whatever he was looking at.  He had this grin, Patrick did, and he sort of exhaled like he was reflecting upon something then he just simply said, "I feel like his dad."

I could feel some tears forming because I've witnessed this bond develop and it's a beautiful thing.  We've talked about it a few times and I've wondered when Patrick would fully feel like Brooks is his son.  The love has always been there between them, but viewing a child who is not biologically yours as your own takes time.  Watching as their relationship grows makes my heart swell.  I am one blessed girl.  Happy Mother's Day.

In the ring...

Imagine you are in a boxing ring.  A professional boxer looks at you straight in the face, winds up and you see the glove coming straight for the middle of your face.  You think to yourself...no way I can dodge this...its going to happen. BOOM! You take a blow. But it doesn’t knock you out...it just takes your breath away for a second and you are back ready for more.

That is a glimpse to the life of someone who has lost a spouse or a parent.

You can feel you are in the ring at any point in time, any place, in any circumstance.  And this boxer can creep in to give you a punch when you least expect it and for sure during the best moments in your life.  It is inevitable.  

Today I ate dinner with the boxer right behind my chair.  It was not only a blow straight in the face, but left and right at my sides too.  And it attacks the best of my teammates - my daughters.  

The boxer struck me the first time when a friendly couple sitting next to us (that turned out to be parents of a student in Anna’s class) asked where Isabella got her blue eyes.  People see her eyes and we here a reminder of Papa and how he is not with us.  My sweet Bella will have to deal with that her whole life (just like I had to deal with “you must look like your dad”).  So I told them what happened because I could tell they saw a potential “couple friends” - and well, I am no longer a couple (blow #2). 

Then we kept on eating dinner the 3 of us, and the waiter came and spoke with us a little and in a very nice but prying way asked why he didn’t see The Mr. with us when we went to the club to eat. Blow #3. So I told him what happened and within 30 minutes I got two of the same reaction...a look of pity, shock awkwardness and sadness.

All meanwhile enjoying a salad and burgers and making sure that Isabella didn’t ruin her pretty dress with ketchup and Anna didn’t fall out of the chair.

Of course, Isabella said in a loud voice...”I miss Papa” and Anna agreed.  And I agreed.

Then, the father of the little girl in Anna’s class took her outside to play because she wanted “daddy time” and the girls heard.  Of course they wanted to join.  Since I had just shared what happened with the mother she stood up and said “Oh I will take them!”

It was nice because she could see what was happening.  But I just felt like the girls were entering their own ring and with out me know.  Something I have to get used too.  They went outside for a little while while I wrapped up dinner and then I met them outside.  They were running and playing. I felt relieved. Like a break in the match and I was getting vaseline (or whatever they put on their face to heal the open gashes) on my face and water.  I knew what would come next...I noticed when I met the couple that they are good parents.  And that the father is a father of 3 little girls and he is in love with them- he is a good dad.  So in the next 15 minutes we were there, I faced Mike Tyson with my arms tied and a smile on my face to let the girls know this is all ok and we are ok. 

The father danced with one of his girls, then carried his 3 month old and sang an entire song to her while holding her tight, and then spoke of teaching the other one golf this summer.  

They looked at him like the most priceless gift ever...and untouchable for them at this point.  I could see Isabella remembered Mark and I could see Anna seeing what a father  is like and wanting one.

Then he said as he grabbed all of them, it was time to go home because his famous NFL draft was tonight...that almost knocked me out.

That used to be our life.  Now 2 years later...here we are with so many blessings around us and making a life of our own. He is what is missing.  We can not escape the pain and it will be with us forever because no matter what you can not replace a human being and the love you have for a spouse or father/mother.

We pray that God hears our prayers for a wonderful man to enter into our family - as Isabella says - a daddy here on earth to love and play with.  I know God has His plan and every time I feel the punch, it somehow fills me with more Faith.  I get beat up in the best of times that I have, but I will not get knocked down.  

Imagine what Jesus felt like during The Passion...

Please read this article so you can be aware of how you can help someone in our situation and when you find out about a loss.  Yes, it is shocking to hear, but try to get over the shock and remember this article.  Please pass it on it can be applied to any age.  Thank you!

www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/ct-talk-schoenberg-column-0424-20120424,0,2535133.story

chicagotribune.com

Don't be shocked when you meet a grieving child

Awkward silence needn't occur upon learning of death of a parent

Nara Schoenberg

April 24, 2012

There I'd be, a teenager more or less minding her own business at a school event or a social gathering, when a well-meaning adult would start quizzing me about where I was born, how many brothers and sisters I had, and what my father did.
"My dad was a doctor," I'd say. "He died."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. That's horrible," the adult would say, and then proceed to stare at me as the conversation ground to a halt.
I'd be thinking: "I'm 15. You're the adult here, you brought this up, and now I'm supposed to say something to make you feel better?"
The answer, of course, was yes, and I got pretty good at it, but I never stopped hating the way that conversation made me feel. When I finally found a close friend who had been through the same thing, we bonded instantly over the weirdness of an adult being shocked, just shocked, that some people actually die before old age. (It's awful, yes, but it happens quite a bit, and making bereaved kids feel like freaks of nature doesn't do anyone a whole lot of good.)
My friend and I joked that we should just burst into tears the next time someone pulled the awkward silence stunt. Or maybe we could circulate together at a social event. When someone was beating themselves up for reminding one of us that he or she had lost a parent, the other one could pipe up with, "My father's dead too!" (Cue the uncontrollable sobs, in stereo.)
OK, we were 19 and stupid, but our basic logic, I think, was sound. "You want awkward? We'll give you awkward!"
A lot has changed for the better since the 1970s and '80s, when I was dealing with these issues, including the rise of bereavement centers and age-appropriate support groups, a great step forward for grieving kids. But a new New York Life Foundation/National Alliance for Grieving Children survey of kids at bereavement programs across the U.S., billed as the first study of its kind, suggests that young people are still struggling with less-than-helpful reactions.
Among the study's findings: While kids identified strongly with key statements such as "The death of my loved one is the worst thing that ever happened to me" and "You never stop missing your loved one," when they were asked to choose just one statement that applied to them the most, the largest group of kids (32 percent), chose "People don't have to give me special treatment; I just want to be treated like everyone else."
That's the way I felt, and while the survey doesn't address the awkward silence issue directly, experts say it persists.
"I think it's the norm," said Joe Primo, associate executive director of Good Grief, a children's bereavement center in Morristown, N.J.
"As a society, we really struggle with talking about death. For most Americans, it's hard enough to have that conversation with an adult, and all of a sudden, you throw a kid into the mix, and I don't think adults have a clue where to begin."
Jill Hamilton, 49, of Palm Springs, Calif., noticed the awkward silence problem after her husband, Kelly, died last year. She's raising their children, Lauren, 11, and Brad, 14.
"It would be nice for the person to say, 'What kind of person was he?' or ask something about him, not just (lapse into) dead silence," Jill Hamilton says.
"Awkward silence!" Lauren interjects.
Experts have plenty of advice for what friends and family can do to help a bereaved child (listen, ask what he or she needs, don't tell the child to stop crying), but when it comes to the specific question of the awkward silence, they say there are no easy answers.
Each grieving person is different, says Andy McNiel, executive director of the National Alliance for Grieving Children, and some people complain about silences while others complain about intrusive questions.
"It's almost damned if you do, damned if you don't," McNiel says. "What do you say? I've been working with families for 20 years now and I still will go to funerals and sound like a bumbling idiot. The truth is, there's not always a really good thing to say."
Still, I do think it would help if people educated themselves a little about the topic, starting with the basics: You have every right to be unnerved when you learn a child has lost a parent, but you don't have the right to be shocked. According to a 2009 survey by New York Life with Comfort Zone Camp, 1 in 9 Americans have lost a parent before age 20; 1 in 7 have lost a parent or sibling.
If you can simply go into an introductory conversation with a child knowing that the death of a parent is a real possibility, you can probably spare yourself and others significant discomfort. You can avoid the question of parental occupation entirely, or if you choose to broach it and find out the parent in question is deceased, try a suggestion from Lauren's mother, Jill: Ask a question along the lines of, "What was (the deceased parent) like?"
"As a kid, you're proud of your parent and you love your parent and that gives you a way to talk about them that isn't tied to their death," Jill Hamilton says.
Lauren brightens immediately when she's asked what her dad was like: "He was a jolly man, like Santa Claus. He had a big tummy and a big beard, and he looked like Santa Claus." He even dressed up as Santa Claus one year, she says, and gave out presents to the kids at their church.
I was a cynical teen when I was mourning my dad, and Lauren is a gung-ho fifth-grader. But listening to her, I'm reminded that I, too, could prattle on merrily about my father at times, even with an adult I didn't know well.
I didn't have much to say about death or loss or a specific illness, and awkward silences were pretty much guaranteed when strangers veered off in that direction. But my dad? My funny, thoughtful, crazy-smart dad was my hero, and I could have talked about him all day long.

a grateful heart...

My two loves...

life...

I finished reading The Lovely Bones today and came across the following line written from the perspective of a girl who was killed but she had the capability to watch her family from her "heaven."  The passage said, "My father dreamed that one day he might teach another child to love ships in bottles.  He knew there would be both sadness and joy in it; that it would always hold an echo of me."

Bittersweet.  This is a word I have not just known the definition to, but I've lived its meaning and it's not fun.  I lived it when people saw me with Brooks and asked if he was my only one before innocently asking if I would have more.  I lived it as I completed pre-school enrollment papers for him - leaving all of the contact information for the father blank.  I lived it when getting Brooks his passport and I was told by three different people that I wouldn't be able to get it for him unless my husband was there with us too.  Finally I had to just tell them that his death certificate was in my purse.  Ah, yes, I know bittersweet.  To an extent I live it everyday.  But I also know redemption.

Yesterday I finished reading Redeeming Love and I related even moreso to the concept found there:  I have been redeemed.  The Lord didn't hang me out to dry; He sent me someone to live my life with and for that I will forever be grateful.  My heart, which once was broken, has been repaired.  It's full.  It's content. 

My sister got married a month ago and Patrick was able to come in town for her wedding.  The Beasleys, Keith's parents, were also coming in town for her wedding and when they found out Patrick would be there they were happy because they could spend some time with him.  Patrick's parents, the Copelands, also came in town for the celebration and they were able to meet the Beasleys.  It was upon realizing that this situation could take place - a merging of my past with my future - that my heart was overflowing.  In case that wasn't enough, both the Beasleys and the Copelands had breakfast together with Brooks the morning after the wedding.  At one point we were all at my parents' house - Patrick, my parents, his parents, Keith's parents, Brooks and me - and as I watched everyone spending time together I could hardly comprehend it.  I can't tell you how much it meant to me for that weekend to have happened. 

My goal in the near future is to be a better blogger...we'll see.  Now that I've finally sat down to write I feel like there are a million things I want to talk about.  Have a good weekend.  :)

8.28

On August 28th, 2010, Keith left his earthly body and began life anew.  August 28th landed on a Sunday this year and I found myself sitting next to my mom at church.  When the pastor began speaking I simply looked at my mom and said, "Are you freaking kidding me?"   It was fantastic.

I want to share this sermon with you in case you're missing Keith or someone else equally as special to you.  It really is good.  CLICK HERE.

1B...

After Keith died I had to face the realization of my situation - I no longer had a husband and Brooks no longer had a father.  Deep within me I really hoped that the Lord had someone else out there for me, but of course I was unsure.  Whenever I would think about it I automatically thought of this person as my #2 with Keith obviously being my #1.  The more that I thought of this the more discouraged I got.  I didn't want a #2, I wanted another #1.  A #2 to me would be settling and, consequently, not what I wanted. 

What Keith and I had was terrific.  Top-notch.  Solid.  We spent significant amounts of time just hugging because we fit together like a puzzle.  In fact, I can see the two of us in our kitchen.  It's locked in my memory.  We would stand there, embracing, and Keith would let out a deep breath before simply saying, "Just like a puzzle," and I would repeat, "Like a puzzle," and there we would remain.  He was made for me and I was made for him.  Several times we spoke about how we might not have tons of money, but we were rich in love and that's the best way for it to be.  He would say, "We may not have a back yard.  We don't even have our own mail box.  But I have you and that's all I need."  He said those types of things and he meant it.  And after thinking about these things I made a decision - I was no longer looking for my #2; I wanted a 1B.  I didn't want a step down; I wanted a continuation of what I had since time with my 1A was cut short.

I decided that I wanted someone of Keith's caliber and that if it wasn't possible, then I wasn't interested.  I had five fantastic years of marriage and was fortunate to have conversations with Keith about how we might have loved each other more in those five years than some people love in a whole lifetime.  This formed the basis and foundation of what I was looking for as I thought about what I wanted for the remainder of my life.

I quickly realized that I was not looking for someone to come in and save the day.  I wasn't miserable.  I was making ends meet and planning for the future.  I didn't need someone to swoop in and pull me out of a terrible situation.  My situation was far from ideal, but manageable, and I had come to terms that there was a really good possibility that I might've had a lifetime of marriage packed into five short years.  There might not be anyone else out there for me.  If that was the case then I was okay with it;  I would be content knowing that what I had was real.

I also realized that what I was hoping to find was a tall order.  I'm sure there is a chunk of the population that doesn't find it once so who am I to think I'll find it twice?  Did this person even exist?  And if so, would he understand what he's signing up for?  Would he understand my situation?  Would he be able to love Brooks like his own?  Would he feel like he's living in Keith's shadow?  Yep, a tall order for this one I was hoping to find. 

At the first of this year I decided I wanted to take a trip somewhere this summer.  A trip of a lifetime.  I didn't know where or with whom, just that I wanted to do something BIG.  I stumbled across our friend from San Diego who had recently moved to Australia and thought I might be on to something.  He was Keith's friend and I really only knew him in passing.  I knew a lot about him, however, because Keith LOVED him.  He ended up moving away from San Diego and landed in Dallas...so Keith set him up with all his buddies. 

In April of 2009 Keith had his accident.  Patrick came to Austin and cried over his buddy who was laying in a hospital bed.  He read him scripture and prayed over him.  Later that fall, before he moved to Australia, he sat in the nursing home with Keith, Brooks and me just as many of Keith's friends did throughout his time in various hospitals. 

As odd and random as it might've seemed for me to plan a trip to Australia, it always seemed completely normal.  Although I didn't really know Patrick, I felt like I did because of how much Keith revered him.  As my trip began unfolding, Patrick and I began communicating more and more.  Suddenly there was a shift in our conversations and we both realized the magnitude of what we were dealing with.  It's still very early, but I think I found my 1B. 

Not all that long ago I thought that if there was somebody out there for me it would be because I was scraping the bottom of the barrel.  From there I became completely content in my situation and trusted the Lord to provide in whatever shape He deemed appropriate.  Never would I have imagined that He would blow my mind and knock my socks off at the same time. :)

My Marathon...

I did something on March 27th, that I have been wanting to do since the day Mark passed: I attended the Rock n Roll Half Marathon - the 1/2 marathon Mark ran last year. I went with my dear friends Miles and Sarah Durham. We got there late and stayed for about 2 hours. We worked our way to the finish line and a nice police officer took us to the paramedics' tent right at the finish line. My heart pounded being there and I know that this is what Mark lived during the last seconds he was on this earth. I felt very close to him.

Last summer I went to "the site" and it was so surreal. Right next to where I was told Mark collapsed there was a pole with a yellow sign on it with a big black "9" and the word "yellow". When we were there, I turned to Sarah and said "Wow, it's like he is here saying hello!" The number 9 was Mark's trademark through all his athletic events - he even marked his golf balls with a red or black 9.

At the time I was blown away with that I saw, but it brought so much comfort. It is signs like this that kept me going all year - and they have not stopped. There have been WAY too many to list here...some people refer to them as "God's winks,"...I like that.

Even though you see those signs, sometimes you think that those things happen to get you through that moment, but the more they happen to me the more I see God's reassurance and I hear Him say - "Don't doubt that I am here." So I obey.

Back to the marathon - I asked around to see if I could speak with a paramedic that was there last year. When I told them who I was they looked at me like I was crazy for being there. Finally, one of the paramedics (actually the second one to get to him) spoke to me. She was very nice and tried to remember as many details as she could. She showed me exactly where he fell, what his symptoms were, and answered the most important thing to me - Did he have a chance to know what was happening? She said that he probably did not know what was happening, but that he was conscious enough to hear them tell him that he did finish the race and I know that in those few seconds he thought of my girls and me and God.

I was also able to get the images I have been living with for the past year (ones that I had created) out of my mind and saw what he actually lived, breathed, heard, smelled and saw for the last hours of his life up to the last seconds.

So as all of this is happening, Brett Michael (yes, from Poison), is playing in the background and screaming in his typical manner. Of course, this kind of ruined the mood a little and broke up the seriousness of what I was experiencing. This is something that has happened to me throughout this whole year - when I want to get really down Mark won't let me (most of the time).

We stood there for about an hour and a half or so and before the last couple of runners crossed the finish line the police officer let Sarah, Miles, and me cross the finish line. We stood where they told us it all went down. We said a prayer and right then "Every Rose has a Thorn" started playing. Mark played this on the guitar ALL the time. It was perfect. I was actually thankful for Brett Michaels at that moment. Miles got a medal for me and told me I deserved it after the year I have had and what I have accomplished.

We then saw the last person cross the finish line and the very peppy cheerleader finish off the race and ride off on the hood of the pace car. We joked about how she might have been Mark's last thought - she had a lot of energy! The mood was good and I felt so released from the past year. I don't know how to describe it, and please know I hope this does not offend anyone, but I felt like I could start my life again.

I have felt Mark with me at ALL times. This time, as I was leaving the fairgrounds, I felt him say to me that he would be with me, but in a different way now. To live my life, to close the book on the suffering and loss and instead remember the great life he led and we shared together. To take care of the girls and myself, to look forward to my life. And the greatest thing - that he was okay with that.

As we walked out of there, I felt renewed. I never thought that going to the marathon would give me this much peace, but it did. God works in such mysterious ways. You just have to be open to receiving His grace. It is abundant!!!

I waited a couple of weeks to share this experience because I wanted to make sure it was true. That the grief I have felt has been lifted up. So far, even though I have missed him, I feel like Mariana again, as opposed to the grieving young widow and mom of 2. Don't get me wrong, this is very difficult but I felt re-energized and capable to live my life. I feel we have adjusted.

It feels good to breathe again and most of all, continue to feel the hope, faith and trust I have learned to live with this past year. Regardless of what happens, I know He will provide.

I do want to mention that I could not have gotten to this stage of my life without the help and support of all of my friends, family and people I do not even know. The power of prayer is amazing and it has carried me through this experience. As always, I want to thank all of you for every prayer and support given to us. When I have my down and challenging days, I offer it up for all of you who have prayed for us, that you may see God's grace as clearly as I have.

Please continue to keep us in your prayers as we enter this next year of our lives...

life in pictures...

I hesitate to write anything like this because these feelings are not my norm.  Sometimes when I put stuff like this people misinterpret it and think I'm in a really dark spot and I'm not.  It becomes annoying enough that I would rather not put anything at all, however, these are honest thoughts and I want to share them so I will.

My mom has a very dear friend who lost her only child around seven years ago.  It was 2004 and we found out about his accident during one of my wedding showers.  Ironically, he and Keith were both taken to the same ICU hall of the same hospital in Austin although years apart.  I was browsing through Facebook the other day and I saw an album that she had entitled "Sweet Memories".  That's probably where I came up with the title of my last blog, although I did not do it intentionally.  Anyway, I looked through the pictures of her son and as I looked it hit me.  I thought, "He looks so young!  I can't believe how young he looks!"  Then my brain stopped.  That's how it works with me.  I'll be doing something seemingly harmless when a connection is made and then my brain freezes.  Everything stops and it's as if everything that has stopped is channeled into a piercing correlation of what that means for Keith and me.

As I scrolled through pictures of Jeff and Jeff with his daughter and Jeff with his parents I got it.  I understood what was in my future.  He looks young because we are older.  Everyone is getting older but him.  And Keith.  And anyone else that is no longer with us.  Their age is frozen and they will never get any older.  A friend of ours emailed a picture of Keith and me at the Alamo Bowl when Texas Tech played Iowa back in 2002 or somewhere around there.  When I saw it I thought, "Man, we look like babies; we were so young."  Eventually that statement will ring true for every picture I have of Keith...and I have a lot.  I'll get older and he never will. 

Again, just for clarification, these things happen every so often but then I move on.  I don't dwell on them and force myself into a funk realizing that Keith will never have another birthday.  I continue to move forward and I believe these things are all a part of that process.

sweet memories...

I'm not sure what made me think about it, but my mind was taken back to a night that happened several years back.  Prior to this night Keith had told me that he heard a song and he really wanted me to listen to it.  This wasn't uncommon so I didn't really think anything of it.  One of our favorite places in San Diego was World Famous, a restaurant right on the water.  They had dollar shrimp or dollar lobster tacos two nights a week and we were there almost as often.  On one of these occasions we were driving into Pacific Beach to eat, the sun was setting over the ocean, and the song came on.  He told me that he couldn't listen to it without having tears form in his eyes.  As I listened to it I was speechless.  As the tears formed in my eyes too I told him that it was as if he wrote it for me...every part.  This stuff makes me miss Keith more than I normally do, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

the stocking...

Every now and then something having to do with Keith surfaces and nobody quite knows what to do.  This last time it was with his Christmas stocking at my parents' house.  Do we hang it?  Do we not?  Do we just keep it in a box?  Do we give it to Brooks?  Finally, my mom decided to unstitch Keith's name and make it Brooks' stocking.  Using new thread she would sew "Brooks" where "Keith" had been and then it was my suggestion to use Keith's original thread and sew "Keith" or "Dad" on the inside of the back stocking flap - that way Brooks could have something tangible that he shared with Keith.  This stocking would be theirs.  Anyway, as my mom removed Keith's name she became distracted before  sewing the name "Brooks".  She grabbed the thread and after running out after sewing "Broo" she realized the thread she was using was from Keith's name.  She continued to finish the "k" and "s" with the new thread and you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.  It's perfect and actually much better than sewing something on the inside of the back as a reminder.  So the stocking for Brooks is the one that Keith used each year after we were married.  The letters were removed, reshaped, but remain...much like Keith and the love we will always have for him.  I am so thankful that the Lord has given me a son that shares so much likeness to Keith.  It's such a blessing that a part of Keith lives on in such a sweet, fun miniature version.

go ahead, i dare you...

My cousin's friend sent her a daily devotional she receives.  She wanted her to email it to me and it's the perfect response to THIS BLOG I wrote the other day...

Dare to Hope

1 Oct 2010

Wendy Pope of Proverbs 31 Ministries

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this." Lamentations 3:21

Have you ever cried until the tears would no longer come and your heart was broken in tiny pieces? Have you ever uttered, "Everything I hope for from the Lord is lost?" Then you, me and Jeremiah make three.

I won't ever forget those long nights of crying myself to sleep. Some nights only silent tears would fall; other nights loud wails accompanied questions and prayers. "Why Lord? What am I doing wrong? Why won't you just fix his problems?" The prayers would end with "if it is Your will," hoping that His will was different that what it appeared to be.

On these nights I would curl up in a ball under my covers, face the wall and hope this time there would be a break-through in my prayers. Many nights, as I cried myself to sleep, I believed everything I had hoped for was lost and the situation was hopeless.

Jeremiah, also known as the weeping prophet, found himself in a hopeless situation as he watched the Temple of the Lord being burned to the ground by the Babylonians. His heart broke. The elements of the Temple such as the water basin and lamp snuffers were stolen, taken to Babylon to be used to worship false gods.

Jeremiah prophesied God's words to the people of Judah and Jerusalem. The Lord's immediate future for His people was one of discipline and the utter destruction of Jerusalem as well as His holy Temple. Jeremiah was chosen by God to deliver these words to His people. He did his job and did it well, but not without punishment, ridicule, insults, and imprisonment.

Jeremiah cried until no more tears would come (Lamentations 2:11, NLT). His heart was broken for Jerusalem and for God's people, his people. In anguish he lamented the words, "Everything I had hoped for from the Lord is lost" (Lamentations 3:18, NLT).

Then, out of the midst of his despair, he dared. He dared to hope in what he remembered.  Many of us know someone who needs hope; perhaps we ourselves need hope, therefore it would serve us well today to know what Jeremiah remembered. What he remembered as he lamented gave him the courage to dare to hope again. The remembrance changed his perspective on his present situation. Jeremiah dared to hope and so can we, regardless of our circumstances. In reading Lamentations 3:21-24 you can hear the expression in Jeremiah's "voice" change from that of lament to that of optimism. In your mind's eye you can picture his facial features transforming. What Jeremiah remembered was the key to elevating him from the pit of despair to a place of expectancy. It is our key as well. Jeremiah remembered this about his covenant Lord:

• His unfailing love for him

• His new mercies meant for him

• His never ending faithfulness toward him

• His inheritance due him

God's Word is alive and active. It is designed to transform us from the inside out. Reading and applying its truths will change the expression in our voice and redirect our perspective for the future. During my desperate nights I longed for my circumstances to be different. I cried until the tears would no longer come. Many times I tarried in the pit of despair much longer than necessary. But when I remembered God's faithfulness and mercies to me, my expression changed.

Did the circumstances surrounding my sorrows change because I remembered? No. What changed was my outlook. Hope means to wait with expectation, and this is what I chose to do during those hard nights.

Are you in need of hope today? Will you choose to remember His faithfulness, love, and mercy despite the despair and destruction around you? Will you dare to hope?

Dear Lord, I want to dare to hope but life around me seems uncertain and tentative. Will You help me dare to hope? Will You help me remember Your faithfulness, love and mercy? Thank You advance for what You are going to do. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

Here are the websites if you would like to subscribe to the daily devotionals that are emailed out: 

http://www.proverbs31.org/
http://proverbs31devotions.blogspot.com/

***

Sunsets

I have had to find peace in the very small things the last 6 months. When you go through grief or a loss, I think part of the "defense mechanism" in us finds ways to comfort us to keep us going. I have found peace in a lot of different things that I choose to think God (and Mark) have sent my way to help me cope. If I were to go into details I am sure most would say "how wonderful" but would not believe the experience I encountered at all. That is why I will keep most of those private as it is all I have left and to me these experiences have been very meaningful.

But something you can see and maybe find some comfort in are sunsets. Mark and I loved sunsets. He would often be driving home and he would tell us to come out and meet him in front of the house so we could watch the sun go down. Many times we would be the only family out and we would say "why is everyone indoors?". He also taught Isabella at a very young age (probably 2) to say "Thank you God for the beautiful sunset!". She still says that to this day. When we see the sun set, we all think of him. It is a given. Isabella now finds the largest cloud and say "Papa is in that one because it is the biggest". Anna, which is only 19 months old, looks constantly up to the sky and is mesmerized by the clouds. Because she has heard her sister talk about the sky and Papa, Anna now relates both and points up to clouds and says "Papa". This happens just about everyday and it breaks my heart everyday. But at the same time, I see they are finding comfort in that. I also see Isabella's faith developing when she says "some day when I go to heaven I will see Papa again". I know she doesn't know much about death and she will go through many, many phases, but this is the beginning of faith for a child. I could write a whole other blog on how both girls have dealt with all of this - I am amazed.

As for me, I have never seen so many beautiful sunsets. I really am baffled by the weather this year. No spring storms and tornado warnings in the area...anytime there are storms, Lantana is clear and you can see the storms around (literally) my house, and the suns rays are so profound. I find so much comfort in those rays. They signify hope to me. Hope that I will be ok, that I will do a good job with the girls, that I will see Mark and my dad again and that I just have made it through another day.

The picture above is of a sunset when Judy came over for the second time since Keith passed. She and Brooks came over for dinner and we grilled out. We were talking about the sunsets and I was telling her everything I just typed above. As we were playing with the kids outside I looked up and across my backyard. I have never seen two fat large rays crossing over my house and beyond. Rays are most of the time thin and long, but most are fine. I tried to capture these two huge rays over my house because all we could say is "they just met for the first time. There are our boys watching over us". Take it as you will, but I choose to find comfort in it.