Tag Archives: friendship

The capacity to love

I have been filled with the busyness of momma days in the last two weeks. So magical were these days that I almost needed to pinch myself to prove that they could be real. Two weeks ago I embarked on a trip to meet someone whom God had placed into my life in the most remarkable of ways. The mission took me a little over 900 miles from home to share my family’s story, but also led me to a new band of sisters that only could have been orchestrated by our mutual Father above. Among those sisters was a friend that I never knew that I needed.

The “pinch me” part of this story involves a person who has no idea that she had any role to play in the rest of the story. Somehow I have to believe that Ann Curry’s desire and heart for a good story would want to know how she introduced me to a friend – well, sister of my heart.

For the most part, I live a sheltered life, yet I am finding since I began to share my story that God is calling me farther and farther from my comfortable home on the Minnesota prairie. Included in that stretching is the use of social media sites to share the story of my family’s loss and God’s steadfast faithfulness throughout. I am not blind to the ways that people use these sites in evil ways, but in my story, God can (and does) use them in ways beyond our imagination.

This story is the gospel truth.

Even my own imagination couldn’t have embellished this one. Here is where Miss Curry comes in. She is a journalist whom I trust and find very engaging. I decided to follow her on Twitter about the time of the Newtown school shootings. After watching parents awaiting the news of their children, I was transported back to my own moment in the school’s media center awaiting the news of my sons. The resurfacing of my deep hurts caused me to languish for days reliving the pain of losing a child. A few days later I learned of Ann Curry’s prompting to ask folks to complete 26 acts of kindness in memory of the lives lost. Blindsided by the deep tentacles grief can use to suffocate your heart, I needed something to refocus my energy, releasing grief’s stronghold. Using #26acts, an online army compelled by the force of love began, led by our “General” Curry. I was one among the ranks.

So too was a new friend I didn’t know God needed me to meet.

One of those doing acts of kindness was a Coach, whom I later learned lives in Kentucky. She posted something that she had done as one of her acts, and I decided to follow her on Twitter. In turn, she began to follow me. Much later, I posted about comforting a woman in the Wal-mart bathroom as one of my #26acts. Ann Curry re-tweeted my tweet, and the response I got from others melted my heart. One of those responses “Thanks for reminding us that compassion doesn’t have to equal dollar signs” came from this coach. It simply blew me away.

From that moment on, our “friendship” morphed from one of liking each other’s tweets to a mutual sharing from our morning devotions. Months went on like this where we discovered we were a lot alike -both sports nuts, both teachers, and both women of faith.

Without sharing all the minute details, she was brave enough to follow God’s prompting and reached out to work with her church to bring me to Kentucky. I had the opportunities to speak twice, which was wonderful. However, it was by “doing life” with them, that I learned what God was truly calling me to do – love others, opening my heart to a whole additional set of sisters.

The mystical thing about this whole story is I went there to meet a friend and to bless others, but I realized that a part of my heart was transformed as I was equally blessed in return.

Not long ago, my heart was so broken, fractured and splintered, I wasn’t sure that I could ever feel joy and love again.

I am so thankful that it didn’t take long for God to show me through the kindness of my friends and neighbors that His love was and is always present. The reminders came in a flood of acts of kindness. That continual filling of my spirit allowed my broken heart to be stitched back together with a profound awareness that love leads you in fantastical ways to do amazing things.

In some ways, I think their kindness allowed God to re-wire me with a greater capacity to love. My newly stitched heart led me to a wonderful place far from home – where my newfound sisters in Christ live. Among those is one whom God led to reach out and show me a new path for His love.

So today I am thankful for a place called Kentucky, Ann Curry, and all the friends God has given me.

Blessed is

Leave a reply

This last week has been one of wonders for me. So instead of a traditional blog with a story, I am going to just tell it in snippets with a few pictures thrown in for good measure.

Bliss is working together as a family for four days straight side-by-side to reach a common goal.

Celebration is seeing the chaos of your life begin to dissipate.

Awe is discovering that wayward tree growing in your lilac bushes is actually a mulberry tree your boys planted years ago on Arbor Day.

Happiness is realizing you didn’t cut it down when you first discovered its appearance above the hedge.

Wonder is spending forty-five minutes watching monarch caterpillars munch on milkweed leaves in your garden.

Satisfaction is realizing that when others thought you were weird for planting milkweed you were confident God would bring the butterflies.

Excitement is letting out a squeal of delight when you see the life-sized mechanical dinosaur move.

(Of course, this kind of delight may cause one of your best friends to almost run off the road.)

Thankfulness is knowing she loves you anyways – even if you are a science geek with a child-like love for dinosaurs.

Awe-inspiring is watching your little girl see a friend she met only once before walk hand-in-hand with that friend immediately while introducing her to her other friends.

Proud is watching the fruits of your friends’ labors create one of the most amazing small town open air markets I have ever enjoyed.

Tasty is bringing home those labors and enjoying every single bite.

Joy is watching your children smile – even in life’s smallest moments.

Amazement is being surrounded by your family and friends watching fireworks.

Rapture is swapping stories at our favorite viewing site.

Crazy is finding prairie roses in the ditch and wishing to bring them home to your garden.

Crazy love is a dear friend getting you the shovel.

Captivating is finding a killdeer nest in the community garden.

Nurturing is making little flags that warn others not to disturb the eggs.

Exuberance is espying the first lightning bug of the year!

Blessed is my life!

Here we go . . . again

2 Replies

It is April 18^th today, and my children were released from school early because of a snowstorm. I snapped this picture of my favorite goat (a tin ware caprine friend given to me by one of my favorite families). Poor Beauregard was plastered, prompting an immediate rescue. Hope springs eternal, and ol’ Beau has seen more than his share of winter in the two weeks he’s been back standing sentinel on the front stoop.

What he has witnessed got me to thinking about another time honored evidence of spring. Each year, we watch, waiting for our feathered friends to alight our yard. The arrival of robins in my neck of the woods also means the utterance of old time sayings. Most have something to do with the emergence of spring, but one in particular seems to be most fitting.

Gotta snow three times on a robin’s (or you could substitute guard goat’s) back before it’s spring.

This year the saying is definitely true. And it’s been verifiable a few other times in my life as well. Today marks number three for cold, white backs on our red-breasted birds.

While the rest of us begrudge and bemoan what seems like the worst winter yet (basically because we were spoiled with virtually no snow and warmer temperatures last year), there are others like a dear friend of mine who are thanking God for the miserable weather.

Sometimes it takes the wisdom of someone walking through a storm of life for you to really gain perspective. Chatting at church last night, my friend shared that she, too, was sick of winter, but then she figured God has a plan for everything.

Turns out a little boy very close to her is doing battle in his own body (Enemy #1 = leukemia). For the next so-many days, he is restricted to indoors while the war wages on. What’s the best way to stop sick little boys from playing outside in the fresh springtime air? The answer: make the weather miserable so he doesn’t want to go out.

Wow! Talk about a different perspective. While we still have our struggles here, some snow on the ground or extra days in school are pretty small beans in comparison to fighting for your life. Yet, it took the words of a worried friend to give me new vision.

Safe, secure, and snuggled in with my precious babes, today I am going to look at each flake as a blessing from God.

And just in case we get a whole lot more blessings on any backs, I will let ol’ Beau vacation a little longer in the house.

Jesus and his peeps

1 Reply

Jesus & Judas – I found this picture on hypervocal.com. I would love to credit the original creator. It is not listed on their site and it is stunning work.

When Clo was just over a year old, Reed taught her to say “What up my peeps?”. Seeing that curly-headed bundle of sweetness toddle around saying such a thing made anyone within earshot burst into laughter. It was one of the first things my future brother-in-law heard my kids say. Big brothers, argh!

A quick look at my Facebook account reveals that I am just shy of my own 400 peeps. (I’m not actually counting, and I had to go look it up.) I have been blessed with such amazing friends that my cup runneth over. Some of the KF’s (Kandy’s Friends) I have only met once and others I have never met in person but business dealings have connected us across the miles. I epitomize the saying that it isn’t what you have but who you have in your life. A closer look would find that there is an inner sanctum – the tight circle of besties that are there for me before I even need to send out the bat signal. Yet missing in that number are a few who have brought me heartache through the years, and though I have forgiven them I just haven’t been able to stick my heart back into their drama. For some of those relationships it took me years to realize that we weren’t good for each other. I read a book once that in a nutshell brought relief to this girl’s heart and soul. The author relayed that God calls us to forgive those that hurt us, but He doesn’t call us to live with basement dwellers – those that perpetually bring us down. That simple statement was freeing to me.

A while back I went with a friend whom I admire to our church’s regional women’s leadership conference. One of the speakers was a really young priest (I forget which denomination), but she was a dynamic speaker. She spoke on the thousands that came to see Jesus, but that mostly he was surrounded by a group of close friends. Later, she talked about those hurts committed against us by those closest to us. This is something that I really understand. What came out of her mouth next totally shocked me. “Jesus gets it. He gets when someone you love lets you down and hurts you deeply. Remember – here she paused and lowered her voice – he only ended with 11 friends because one of them (Judas) defaulted.”

What did she just say? Her words rained down like a soothing balm to my soul. The point of her talk was a reminder to take our hurts before the Lord of Lords because he understood hurt and betrayal. I love Jesus, and I love “talking” to Him, but never once in forty years had I thought about that He too was let down by his friend. And not just once either – Thomas doubted, Peter denied and those are only the examples of the ones we know about.

Jesus laughed and cried with his friends (not just the disciples). The sweetest verse to me is John 11:35 Jesus wept (NIV) when he learned of his friend Lazarus death. That verse reminds me that he did hurt emotionally. His heart leapt when He celebrated with His friends. He rejoiced. He attended weddings and parties, and He stayed up late just talking with His friends. He also retreated, prayed, rested, and loved.

Hey – wait a minute! We do all those same things, but seldom do we stop and think that Jesus – in His humanness – did a lot of stuff with his friends just like us. Why did I never stop to think that he too was hurt by them as well? As Easter is approaching, we remember that Jesus was fully God and that he took on the sins of the world, but we forget that he was also fully human, feeling the same things you and I experience.

He was wounded by humanity, but his heart was wounded by one close to him first. Simply the sweet little priest was right; Jesus gets it. When we are hurt or wounded, we really can turn to him. He’s there with open arms and listening ears. Although, I don’t think he would really say it, it might be easier to reach out if we envision him saying, “What up my peep?” You never can tell . . .

Yeah, whatever!

2 Replies

Yesterday, I wrote about the blessing of friendship. Over the weekend, my pastor spoke about having friends who love us enough to offer reproof. You know the type of friends who see we are doing something wrong and who are bold enough to say it.

Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Proverbs 27: 6a (NASB)

Ouch! I don’t think I had ever really dissected that verse. Reliable, faithful friends. Check! I’ve got those. Friends who point out what I don’t like to hear. Yep! I’ve got those too. I have a couple friends who God’s mission for their lives must be to point out whenever I’ve said “Yes” once too many times. Do I like it? Not usually. Do I make excuses? Absolutely! Do I know they are right? Yes, and eventually, I accept that they have offered sage advice. There is always the one friend, however faithful, that just comes right out and says it like it is.

After my pastor drew attention to that verse on Sunday, I was immediately transported back to a day about a week ago. That day we received some unsettling news, and there was an big evening event at our school I was to attend. I chose to stay home to be quiet and crochet. After a while, I received a text from THAT friend.

Where are you?

I didn’t feel well. Chose to stay home. I’m watching Matlock & crocheting.

Dan said you were under the weather.

Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted a quiet night at home.

Yeah, whatever! I don’t believe you. What is really going on?

What just happened here? She saw right through my smoke screen, and she called me on it. Since she was sitting in the bleachers surrounded by my husband and many of our friends, I sent her the honest answer, but prefaced it with a “DO NOT FREAK OUT! I will call you tomorrow.” text. Then I proceeded to tell her that we learned that Sawyer was going to need another surgery. I always knew it might have to happen, but I just wasn’t ready for it yet.

It was going to be surgery – number 7, and another one in March. This month has not-so-affectionately become surgery month for our boy. I hate it, and I just needed a night to process it. I think if I had gone to the school and anyone even looked at me, I would have cried. I couldn’t bring myself to put on a happy face. Instead, I chose to stay home and surround myself with comforting things – old quilts, old crafts, and old shows. The whole time I sat at home wishing this wasn’t our life, and wishing I could I wish it all away.

In reality, even though I was trying to hide from the world, God knew exactly what was going on. He wasn’t fooled for a minute. His awareness of my sadness is most likely what caused my friend to basically say, “Cut the crap. I don’t know what’s going on, but you are NOT fine.” Faithful are the wounds of a friend.

Her “wounds” allowed me to open up and share with her and several others about what my tomorrow holds. Her “wounds” allowed me to face my fears, but more importantly, it reminded me of the heart of this verse. Friends who say it like it is do so because they love us. They remind us that even if we feel isolated, we are never really alone.

Where’s my Bat signal?

Leave a reply

A while back, I received a call from a dear friend who needed some help. The request was one that I accepted realizing that it was going to be a stretch for me to pull it off. In my heart though, I knew other friends would have my back (or in this case, neck).

The request was simple. My friend (who is a preschool teacher) was looking for someone to make 8 little scarves in two weeks for her students to receive as gifts during their study of winter weather. The catch: they needed to be knit or crocheted. There was a book that she would be reading as a culmination of the unit, and the scarves would be a part of that story.

I hung up the phone, and then, thought what in the world did I just say I would do. (That type of behavior is my own curse, and fodder for a whole different blog.) Without hesitation, I went to my version of the Bat-signal. Batman had his alert method, and I have mine. Formerly, it was CaringBridge but now it is Facebook. As fast as my fingers could fly, I posted my friend’s request and asked for help. I pledged to create two, but I explained I could use some extra hands and needles/hooks for the remaining six. Within eight hours, all eight were spoken for. And within a week and half, all were delivered into the hands of some little preschoolers.

I never really doubted that they would be, but what amazed me was a comment that another “friend” posted. I should clarify our friendship status. We “met” making a transaction online, and the necessity of that business deal required us to befriend each other. Once we did, we discovered we had some similar interests and thus an online friendship formed. We’ve never actually met one another in person.

Yet in the midst of my friends chiming in that they were on it, this gal’s comments stopped me in my tracks. Sometimes especially when I encounter lemons or changes in plans, I forget just how blessed that I really am. The comment while simple summed it up perfectly.

Kandy, even though we have never met, you must have the most amazing friends.

She was right, and I knew it. Many times those same sweet friends have come to my rescue for all kinds of things including some of my doing. I don’t live anywhere remotely close to my family at all, and most of my husband’s family is fairly far away as well. Sometimes I don’t even have to ask for the help, my friends just know when to call, text, or show up. Somehow they get God’s gentle prompting that I need them.

Proverbs 20:6
Many will say they are loyal friends, but who can find one who is truly reliable? (NLT)

Thankfully, in my case, the answer to that question is “I can” many times over. Today, I’m counting each and every one of those blessings, knowing I probably never needed that Bat-signal anyways!

The grand finale . . . the last Reed’s Run

Leave a reply

Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed’s Run

Well this is it. I feel like I am sending my baby off to kindergarten. I have loved, nurtured, worried, fretted, and spent many hours praying for Reed’s Run, and now, it’s time to send it off. I carry in my heart precious memories of a job well done, funds raised, and hope given. To say farewell, I am just going to give a list (not all-inclusive) of some of those favorite memories.

Friends and family working together to remember and honor
Honoring veterans each and every year (including remembering Jason Timmerman)
The friends from the Patriot Guard coming (even if unofficial)
Being able to publicly thank all of the first responders.
That flag over the start/finish line – took my breath away!
Friends arriving that were a surprise to me
Family flying/driving in from all over the country
Hosting a Grampa’s Amp concert
Students taking a stand (I will never forget what they did.)
All the hugs!
The Reed stories that came out.
Remembering all the children gone much too soon. The luminaries were always my favorite, especially during the movies.
Remembering three adult friends who offered healing to us and now are gone before we ready.
Honoring those who have inspired us.
The Star Wars theme song!
Seeing the t-shirts everywhere!
The generosity of our neighbors!
The joy of the runners, walkers, and kid runners!
Cheetahs and all the love!
Popcorn stands, Boy Scouts & Girl Scouts!

Finally, the most important memory is the message that we worked so hard to send. Healing comes from a firm foundation rooted in the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ and from the all the many hands & feet (and HEARTS) of a loving community reaching out in love.

To rise from tragedy . . . cling to HOPE!

Thank you for being the hearts that offered hope and healing!

When we first envisioned doing something to fund the Reed Stevens Memorial Scholarship, we never saw an event as big as what Reed’s Run became. The four runs produced many different results: some expected and others pleasant surprises. The obvious by-products were a successful fundraising venture and a community event enjoyed by many. Among the unexpected were the blossoming of friendships and the renewal of friendships from long ago.

One of those friendships was rekindled in those early days in the hospital when Sawyer was still in the Intensive Care. It was something akin to the proverbial blessings that those who have walked through tragedy really have eyes and hearts open enough to see. The connection was with one of Sawyer’s godmothers.

As the days drew closer to the final run, we realized that we were going to have a house filled with loved ones as well as a few hotel rooms with other loved ones. For those travelling from far away, we decided to send out an agenda of what we would be offering in the way of entertainment. After working set-up all day Friday, a break would take place to cheer on Sawyer and the Lakers with a September/October birthday party at the fire pit in Reed’s garden afterwards.

To be honest, we didn’t think many would take us up on the offer for the football game. To our surprise, there were 15 people that comprised the cheering section for number 74. One among our group was Sawyer’s little god-brother, S, proudly clad in Laker blue and waving homemade flags emblazoned with Sawyer’s name and school “mascot”. S cheered on the team, and more than once he wondered aloud why the team or coaches weren’t listening to his flag as the score did not reflect his impassioned cheering. Sadly, Sawyer didn’t play for three fourths of the game, and for a while I felt like we had asked these loved ones from Georgia, California, western North Dakota, and Florida to come for nothing. Then in the final few minutes, Sawyer and the other Junior Varsity guys went in.

All of a sudden an amazing tackle happens, and over the loudspeaker we hear, “Tackle made by Sawyer Stevens.” (This, of course, reads better if you do the loudspeaker echoing voice out loud.) The Sawyer Stevens entourage cheered exuberantly, but none compared to little S. He jumped up and down, declaring for all who would listen, “Sawyer listened to my flag. I knew it would work!” I don’t really care what others would call the play of that game. For one sophomore player, that was definitely it.

For the trip to the birthday bash, Sawyer rode with his god-family the 30 miles back to Marshall. Even though I wasn’t there, the story told by his godmother about the trip home was priceless. Huddled together in the back of the car with their heads touching were two brothers (one in high school and one in elementary) deep in conversation and game playing.

For the one who misses his big brother every day, it was a model example of brotherly love and what used to be. For the rest of us, it was a reminder that even though the circumstances aren’t what we had planned, God’s vision of family is BIGGER than we could ever imagine.

Sliding into home . . . the last Reed’s Run

2 Replies

For those that personally know me, I hate good-byes. Given the story of my life, that isn’t all that surprising. Reed’s Run has come to an end. It was a wonderful four years, and the success of those four runs continues to inspire myself (and hopefully others). There is much more to the story than the countdown blogs that occurred before the run, and I feel now is the appropriate time to share them. But somehow, I just can’t just the word good-bye when describing a labor of love for the last five years.

It all started two days before the actual run. My parents, sister, brother-in-law, and nephew had arrived, and we were all in final countdown mode. I received a somewhat intriguing call from one of my “besties”. Her call was that she was leaving work now, and she needed me to meet her at the street because she had something really important for me. I knew that she was struggling with some health issues; so, I was nonplussed at the request for the espionage style hand-off. In my mind, I thought she had a donation from her employer whom we had asked for a sponsorship for the run.

When we met for the transfer next to the mailbox, I knew immediately it wasn’t a donation. She doesn’t have much of a poker face. Her grin from ear to ear said it was something much more significant. She told me that she had a story to tell before she gave me the surprise.

It started with a reminder that a gal with whom she works was having a garage sale today. Okay, no big deal. Then it transpired into details that another gal (also in on the sale) brought a big tub of toys for the sale. Earlier they decided that the best approach for all those toys would be to dump them en masse on a big table and to offer a certain price for each item. As the garage sale gals were sorting and arranging, one item jumped out at them. The co-worker stood speechless. She proceeded to grab the item, jump in her car, and head to work.

She pulled aside my bestie and asked, “Could it really be?” To which my friend said, “It has to be because no one else in this town has this name and after all, that’s Kandy’s handwriting.” Standing barefoot in the driveway, my hands received a gift straight from heaven. With tears streaming down my face, I lovingly held Reed’s t-ball mitt, emblazoned with “R. Stevens” in my penmanship on the side.

At that point I knew that Reed’s Run was going to be a huge success because we were given a love token straight from Reed that day. It was the boost we needed to finish out all of those last minute details.

It wasn’t Reed, but it was a piece of his story. The memories we had with that glove, which was faithfully used for a few years until he outgrew it, came flooding back . Eventually, we gave it to friends who must have given it to someone else until it landed in that garage sale.

The mitt’s history didn’t matter at that moment because the best part of the story was on a sunny September day, it slid right on home.

Reed’s t-ball glove on his bed.

Sweet Grace Blog

Just another WordPress site

Tag Archives: friendship

The capacity to love

Blessed is

Here we go . . . again

Jesus and his peeps

Yeah, whatever!

Where’s my Bat signal?

The grand finale . . . the last Reed’s Run

Sliding into home . . . the last Reed’s Run