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She was her own boss

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Leave it to grief.

Well that and an aptly timed phone call to change things around.

I have been experiencing a bit of a writer’s block.  Wait, that isn’t exactly right either.  I have been doing plenty of writing, just not the kind that appears here.  I began taking courses this summer in pursuit of my dream to earn a doctorate in education.  So I’ve been writing oodles of papers, video critiques, and discussion posts as a graduate student.  Back to campus happened and between lesson plans, emails to my students, and grading assignments, I have been doing plenty of writing as a teacher too.  Then there is that wonderfully amazing thing known as my book (to be released in November) for which I have been doing all kinds of behind the scenes writing with marketing and publicist teams. As excited as I am about my first book, this kind of writing is not fun.

So instead of writer’s block, I guess I have been experiencing blogger’s block.

But leave it to grief and a phone call last night from the dearest of friends to bring me back to the place where I have laid bare my heart.  Journaling on Caringbridge is where this crazy journey to become a writer started, and it was grief (that wretched beast) that taught me my hurts and my ability to share them bring comforts to others.

So am I back and I thank you for your patience.

My corner of the world grew a bit dimmer this weekend as my grandmother, Mama, passed away peacefully in her sleep in her own home.  She was one of the lights of my world and she was the last of my grandparents still alive.  Trust me, I don’t for one minute forget how blessed I am to be into my forties and still have my grandmothers.  My Nannie passed away four years ago and there isn’t a day that I don’t miss her either.

 

me-and-mama

The last day we spent together in June.

 

My friend, Karla, called last night just to check on me.  God bless her because she listened to me cry and laugh and cry while laughing for more than an hour.  She is a true second mile friend, the kind that just keeps on walking when everyone else dropped off at the first mile marker.  I am blessed to have several.

At some point in the conversation, she asked me to remind her how old my Mama (which is pronounced maw-maw) lived to be.  When I said, “ninety-two”, her immediate response was “Wow! And she lived at home essentially on her own all that time.”  That was just the way it was so this didn’t seem all that odd to me.  But what my sweet friend said next is where I started to see the light breaking through my heavy grief fog.

Kan, how many 92 year olds do you know who lived that successfully on their own?  You know, your Mama really got to live as her own boss.

I am sure she knew she had “released the Kraken” because after that statement I burst into laughter.  Having lived through many grief trials of her own, she had to know it was either a weirdly placed grief reaction or a true Southern story coming on.

Thankfully for me it was the latter.

I asked her if I had ever told her the “boss” story.  Even if I had, she let me retell it to her again.

My Mama Cloie loved gospel music.  By loved, I mean LOVED gospel music.  She and her friends and family would travel to gospel singings every chance they got.  Her all-time favorite was the “Dixie Echoes”, but with her Alabama twang it always sounded like the “Dixie Eckels” to my ears.  My mom always says my dad had a few of those language nuances when they met too.  The apple doesn’t fall far in Alabama.

Well a few years back, Mama, some of her cousins, and my Aunt Charlotte (my Daddy’s sister and Mama’s daughter) started attending the Gatlinburg Gathering for a weekend of gospel music and good ol’ fashioned preaching.  One of the cousins, who are closer in age to my Daddy, had a time share up in the mountains and this flock of Cunningham girls would travel to Tennessee for their annual get-away.

In between singings, they would sometimes hit the shops in the mountain town. On one trip, Mama had enough of shopping and told the younger ones to go on ahead; she would just rest on the benches outside the stores on the main street.  Every time, the shoppers would come out the stores, there she would be . . . sitting with another little old man.  As they moved down the strip, the scene replayed itself over and over.  Mama would be on a bench with a different little old man who had grown tired of shopping with his wife.

As the day went on, the cousins and Aunt Charlotte took to teasing her about how “they brought her all the way all to Tennessee for gospel singing and she was more interested in finding a boyfriend.”  True to our family’s style of teasing, the picking continued well up into the evening.  At some point, my Mama became like Popeye and she took all she could stands until she could stands it no more.

She let them all know what she thought of their boyfriend accusations.

Let me tell y’all something.  My Momma and Daddy bossed me for eighteen years.  Then Reed bossed for more than 60 years.  If it is all just the same to you, I’m going to be the boss of Cloie for now. 

Stealing a line from a Reba (who Mama adored too), and I guess she did!

I sincerely wish it wasn’t grief that brought me back here to the place of my roots. (Okay my writing roots because only my hairdresser knows exactly what color my other roots truly are.)  But I promise you that if this story about my grandmother touches you there are plenty more in my heart and definitely some about her and all my crazy people in my book.  And yes, grief gets a mention there too.

So for now I will be writing love notes to her in my prayers while my heart works to live without my “bossy” Mama.

 

2-cloies

My two Cloie’s – Mama and our youngest child

 

 

 

The healing came rushing in

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It all started at Easter dinner. We live hundreds of miles away from our parents and siblings; so we have created our own version of family. “Bloom where you are planted” is somewhat of a driving force behind our merry band of friends we call family. After celebrating the wonder and amazement of the significance of our Savior’s resurrection, we began what always happens at our table – swapping stories. Our dear friend shared the story of the man who saved his life as a child and how he as an adult he still maintains a relationship with him. The flint was sparked.

Later, Sawyer asked if we would mind if he invited the first responders from the bus crash to his graduation. ALL. OF. THEM. There was something like thirty units that responded; so the number of people had to have been in the hundreds. Without batting an eyelash, I told him, “Absolutely, but you will have to understand that they may not be able to attend.” He was okay with that uncertainty. We set out to find the addresses, while he penned a note explaining who he was and how he was doing. He also included a copy of a scholarship essay that he wrote defining a hero. Here is an excerpt from his closing.

“Hero isn’t a word I use lightly.  The men and women who bravely serve our country now and in the past have earned that distinction. Standing next to them, are the men and women who show up to help others in their darkest hours. Although, most of these individuals would never consider what they have done as extraordinary, to me, their selfless actions are truly what defines a hero.”  (used by permission from Sawyer Stevens)

We really left it at that and went on enjoying the final days of school for all of our children and preparing for his graduation day. When a mysterious letter arrived on official Minnesota Department of the Highway Patrol stationary, my first thought was someone was getting a ticket. Then when I saw the Boy Wonder’s name on it, my thoughts shifted to . . . he better NOT be getting a ticket. I could not have been more shocked when he opened this correspondence. The State Captain congratulated Sawyer on his hard work and achievements, let him know that some troopers would be in attendance at his celebration, and asked him a favor in return: be an honored guest at the upcoming trooper academy graduation.

Sawyer was speechless. I simply cried. My parents had the same reactions as I did while my husband was in Sawyer’s camp. What an honor! A few more letters like that trickled in, but in all honesty, we had no idea how much that simple gesture would mean to others or even to ourselves.

We had worked for weeks prepping our backyard, because (I will be honest) I had a vision of what I wanted it to be. In one word: SPECTACULAR for my son. What I didn’t know was I was dreaming small, and that God had much BIGGER plans.

First, we asked some very dear friends to help serve and even a few more simply volunteered. Everyone saying it was an honor to be asked. We are blessed. For their love and tireless love, we are thankful. Next, my parents came a week early to simply jump in and help. Considering my dad was just a couple weeks away from retiring, this was a huge sacrifice. Next, the other side of our family from North Dakota stepped in and started helping with final preparations. Blessings upon blessings! Then, in the final hours, people all over were praying because as I have mentioned before, I simply felt cheated that we didn’t have this experience with Reed. Grief is an ugly beast, but God’s grace is so much bigger.

Commencement went very well, but our party was looking doomed by the weather. All the hours spent grooming the yard, all the plans made, all the preparations completed were about to be undone by deluge of rain. And rain it did.

I was sad and disappointed, but again, God had much bigger dreams. We eventually made the call to move to our alternative location, our church. Moving all the supplies was a gargantuan task, made lighter by many hands. About an hour before the party was to start, I learned that Sawyer’s letter which had made its way to the news media was going to be featured that night. THAT. NIGHT!

Conducting the interview right before the party began complicated things a bit, and we were overwhelmed to see the number of people who were already waiting in line. Thank goodness we have amazing, take-charge, selfless friends who just took charge of the whole evening. Caught up in some type of time warp, I think I had talked to over a hundred people and thought this party must be close to over, when I realized that only a half hour had lapsed.

Cousins embrace with the long line of folks waiting to see the graduate.

Cousins embrace with the long line of folks waiting to see the graduate.

At one point in the evening, we were completely surprised by the arrival of two great aunts and several cousins who had been keeping their arrival a complete surprise. Sister says that the unbridled laughter that erupted from me, upon seeing them was the best part of the party.

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Classmates, friends, neighbors, a few teachers, church family, fellow Scouts, 4Hers, and Special Olympians, and first responders just kept filing in. It was overwhelming, but in a good way. Just like every Reed’s Run, I think I got about three bites of food in the entire evening. Thanking each one for coming, and of course, hugging as many as I could was simple incredible.

At one point in the evening, I stepped back and simply observed all the love that filled that room. I had to will myself not to let the tears come pouring out. People wouldn’t understand. The message would be misread. They weren’t tears of sadness. No, honestly they were healing tears of joy! I didn’t expect it, but a flood of soothing healing for my heart came pouring in. A tragedy had intertwined our lives, but tonight we stood together in celebration.  Only God could have dreamed that was possible!

All those came in love and support of a pretty amazing young man. That alone was enough to bring tears of joy. It is a beautiful gift to be loved. Many of those in attendance would have shown up two years earlier for Reed’s graduation had he lived beyond the seventh grade, and many had come over the years to Reed’s Run. But this celebration was different. Tonight was pure bliss, nothing bittersweet. Our boy didn’t merely live, he was thriving and touching the lives of many. My Boy Wonder’s small and very sweet gesture provided healing not only for me, but most likely did the same for the last group of people to see Reed alive.

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One Easter table conversation, divinely appointed, led to one tiny note which had God-sized dreams written all over it, and for that I am incredibly awed and humbled.

Here is the link to the story about Sawyer’s gesture.  A special thanks to Nina Moini and the WCCO news team for this link.

Survivor Of 2008 School Bus Crash Graduates As Valedictorian

3 days: A Christmas bloom where you are planted

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As I sit typing this blog, it is a very, gray and dreary day on the prairie. Hovering right above freezing, early fog and light rain have been the highlight for today’s weather. I don’t even know if rain is the right word. Spitting is what my Papa would have called it. My childhood home lies closer to Mexico while I currently live closer to Canada. On days like today, I hoping for sunshine and not at all, dreaming of a White Christmas, especially when the lawn has big muddy patches from our ninety-something pound dog.

We spent the weekend, cleaning house and working at the Elf Workshop. Having a daughter who plays high school basketball limits how far we can travel during the season. So it will be just us home for Christmas. We are planning a low key day, and we even gave our kids the freedom to choose what they would like for Christmas Eve and Day meals. Chicken Enchiladas and Poor Man’s Lobster were rather interesting choices, but nonetheless, we will be together celebrating the anniversary of Jesus’ birth. Next to him, my children and a love of learning and imagination are the best gifts I have ever received.

Dreary days like today drain me, but I am pulling myself together because it is baking night. No one in this house has any Belgian DNA in their cells, but we live among Belgians and have adopted their customs. Among the delicacies on the bakers’ agendas for this evening are these delightfully, crisp little waffle-like cookies known as Belgian cookies. We will be using a specially designed waffle iron (though I personally prefer the native name of lukkenyzer), which was fashioned, patented, and manufactured down the road in Ghent . . . Minnesota by “The Belgian” (who lived in the house that one of my best friend’s dad grew up in). I have very special memories of learning how to make these cookies from another bus family, whom Reed adored. So in a small way, he’ll be here with us.

Cactus

In addition to looking forward to tonight’s family baking extravaganza, I found a little bright spot earlier when I looked up from my dining room table to discover the Christmas cactus, given to me for directing the children’s pageant, was starting to bloom. It reminded me of another dreary time this summer when I found a blossom in the most unusual of places. The sweet friend who sent the pictures of my kiddos making the fairy gardens a few days ago was the same friend who owned an amazing herb farm down the road. Reed loved her lemon balm, and one year chose that plant as his special addition to his garden space. I think it must be propagated on the wings of angels, because it has sprung up in the most unlikely of places all over our yard.

I was having a really bad day following the Girl Awesome’s sports injury this spring. Some people had said some really awful things to her. My heart broke for her, which brought up all the hard things our family has been through in the almost seven years since our worst day. I spent most of that day in bed crying and talking to God. Eventually I needed to get back to living. After dishes, the most pressing thing on my agenda was taking out the trash. (I know –  I live the glamorous life.) A little glimpse of green caught my eye on the way to garbage can. Embedded in the rocks (where no plants have been in over ten years) was the tiniest lemon balm plant poking through the rock bed.

A different kind of tears filled my eyes as a chuckle so tender and quiet alit from my heart. I knew exactly what God (with maybe a little help from a redheaded boy) was trying to tell me. If I can make a plant grow in the most inhospitable of environments, I can take care of your troubles too.

There is always hope. Revolutionary, day-changing, love-filled hope!

Tonight we will bake and forget our dreary day! We will laugh and sneak batter and eat way too many cookies and dance like crazy people (a baking necessity), but most of all we will bloom where we are planted.

lukkenyzer

If you are in the neighborhood, stop in. There is always room at the table.

baking day

Freedom Day

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Today during my daily morning time with God, the opening lines in my devotional, Jesus Calling, summed up a recent experience of mine.

“TRUST ME, and don’t be afraid. Many things feel out of control.”

These were simple words which revealed an area of my life that I have battled for years. In a recent blog, I shared about my struggle with fear. As usual, I wrote openly and honestly, but I didn’t reveal my biggest fear of all. Those closest to me know that fear intimately, because I do talk about it even though I would rather not. My actions, both those grace-filled and those not so much, have reverberated how much control the fear of flying has held me captive. In all actuality, the fear had become a strangle-hold that has prevented me from participating in many life events, sadly including seeing family and serving God.

When I wrote that previous blog, I knew full well what plans I had to conquer (okay, let’s get real) – to challenge fear’s death grip on my life. I am blessed with some of the world’s best friends, and a special one gave me the opportunity to go on a cruise with her. The only catch was I somehow needed to get to Tampa. Oh, that’s only 1650 miles from my home.

As I researched my options, I discovered the most economical and most convenient (read: not taking an extra week of travel) option was to fly. Since God had already lain on my heart that I needed to let go of this all-consuming fear, I knew what I had to do. I didn’t like it, but I needed to be obedient to his call on my struggle. I will confess that it took me three months to have the nerve to buy the ticket, but once I did, I knew there was no turning back.

Previously, all my thoughts would have fixated on the panic of being inside the airplane. By all my thoughts, I mean every waking thought. So great was my terror that I could not watch airplane movies and even would tremble when purchasing tickets for previous flights. I won’t even tell you how bad my behavior was on those actual flights. Although, I will say I met one of my dearest friends that way – mid-air, consoling a sobbing me who was convinced she was going to perish that day.

This time was different. My captured thoughts (2 Cor 10:5) were spent giving my fear back to Jesus. My hands did not tremble when I purchased the ticket, and every time doubt crept in, I whispered, “Fear of flying, meet my Jesus.” Initially, I told very few people about my trip because I wasn’t completely confident of my abilities to do this. (It would not be the first time I walked on a flight and got right back off.) I acknowledged that I couldn’t do this, but instead placed it at the feet of my Lord, who could. Somehow, my heart filled with peace. It was a slow transformation.

The day arrived, and much to my surprise, I wasn’t filled with trepidation. I announced the day as “Freedom Day” to my family as they drove me to the airport. Freedom from what was holding me hostage was a huge obstacle to overcome.

AllegiantSun

After boarding the plane, I immediately set my mind on my previous week’s and day’s humble beseeching prayer, and hoped for the best. (I rest assured in the hope I have placed in God and his Son, my confidence in me, however, was marginal, at best.) Never one short in hugs or stories, I did the one thing that came most natural to me – struck up a conversation with my seatmates.

In the way that only God could orchestrate, my new found friends were a pastor and his wife. I marveled at their peace and reassurance of my situation (even on occasion holding my hand), but also at how much we had to share with each other. I came away buoyed not only by their friendship, but also their wisdom in many of the topics we discussed during the flight. We shared that while we all have struggles; God is faithful through it all. With that, I was reminded that I had already lived through (and survived) my worst nightmare (of losing a child) with God’s steadfast hand ever present. While our lives were not mirror images, we did have one reflection in common – a burning desire to live life for Jesus while loving on his people.

The hours passed quickly as we swapped stories. Faster than I thought was imaginable, the flight was over! I successfully flew with help of God and my new friends (B & T)! Letting go of my personal kryptonite, I tasted how sweet freedom truly was.

I wish I could tell you that is where the story ended. But that is not exactly what God had in mind! A week later, as it was time to return home, God provided once again! Because there in seats A and B to my C, were my friends from a week ago!

As I have professed before, the only things I truly collect are God’s blessings of friends. I was blown away by some amazing new ones who will always be able to say not only did they witness “Freedom Day”, but they were a part of God’s plan for it.

When I read those words this morning, I heard God’s gentle reminder –

Trust me, Kandy. I’ve got it all under control.

Humbly, I am truly thankful He does.

 

First world problems

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A dear friend of mine has a wonderful blog, and she recently shared about her realization of how some of her quirks might need minor adjustments. http://www.nancyholte.com/blog/2013/07/762/

Before I go any farther, if you think that you don’t have any quirks and that I am judging my friend, rest assured I am not.  We all have quirks –especially me (like my need to have all of my beverages completely filled with ice so that they are cold enough).  Nine times out of ten, those personality characteristics are what I love the most about my friends.  Trust me, I am not living over here in my glass house because I know many people the world over would love clean drinking water while I am complaining that my drink isn’t cold enough.  I get it.

I am acutely aware that even despite the tragedies that have befallen our family I am still more blessed than 95% of the world’s population.  That awareness is something that I am trying to instill in my children as they are becoming older and much more world savvy.  No name brand or one singular item will define the character of your heart.  Hard work and serving others is much more important than momentary thrill of a purchase.  These aren’t just platitudes for me, and I am trying on a regular basis to let my life’s choices be an example to my children.   Sometimes I don’t think they are listening.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

One day, our daughters were bickering in the van about something so trivial I cannot even remember what it was.  They both had valid points, but in the end of the day, they were clothed, nourished physically and spiritually, and housed.  The thing they were arguing about was not life threatening nor earth shaking; so I pointed out to them that their conflict was a “first world problem” suggesting that they should agree to disagree and move on.

They acquiesced, and our whole family started quoting lines from a family favorite video: Top 100 First World Problems by Scooter Magruder, as we continued on down to our destination. Upon arrival at the local big box hardware store, we made  a quick double-check of our list to create a game plan for this excursion in the midst of our home remodeling.

As we opened the doors to the van, our littlest was searching for her shoes.  Under the seat, next to the seat, in the back of the van, in my purse (as if they would be there), and on the ground – they were nowhere to be found.  I know I grumbled a bit asking if she wore shoes to the store.  She assured me she thought she did.  My annoyance wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t just gone through the same thing a week before when we drove THREE HOURS to pick up her brother from med school camp –  only to discover she was sans shoes.  We had to go to the Mecca of the South and buy shoes before the closing ceremonies, forcing us to enter late (something I detest doing).

There was no rescuing her this time; so, I scooped her up (which was a challenge as she is getting tall) and carried her into the store with bare piggies.  On our way in, I was chiding her for not bringing shoes.  I reminded her this was crazy,  and she was old enough to be responsible for her own shoes.

Then it came:  wisdom wrapped up in a long-legged, curly-headed, freckled-face eight year old little girl.

“You know, Momma.  This is a first world problem.  Lots of kids around the world don’t even have shoes.”

Touché, my little Sally Gal. Touché.

They are listening.  They are always listening.  Be mindful of what you say, and even more mindful of what your actions speak.  I know I am definitely trying to be much more particular!

Clo's keens

By the way if you need a chuckle, check out Scooter’s video on youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXCsRlpbqPM

An amazing “AHA” moment

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bulb can be found at www.nostalgicbulbs.com

bulb can be found at www.nostalgicbulbs.com

I had one of those “Aha” moments yesterday.  It was truly a game changer for me.  As a scientist, I’ve always loved the story of Archimedes jumping out of the bathwater when he discovered the method to prove that the king’s crown was truly gold.  Although it is rumored he yelled, “Eureka”, that is my favorite historical “Aha” moment.  As a teacher, I have always enjoyed the times when I saw the light bulb turn on for a student.  It’s that moment when you get a glimpse into a student taking knowledge and making it their own.  Bringing big smiles to me, those moments are priceless.

My epiphany yesterday came about in an unexpected way.  I needed to travel for a business meeting, and my ministry partner who was to travel with me was needed to care for her mom.  Utilizing the best network of friends I have, I posted on Facebook asking if anyone was free for a quick trip to Sioux Falls.  Luckily for me, a friend and her little boy (whom I lovingly call Turnip) were free and up for a road trip.

I have known this friend for more than a year, but we’ve never had this kind of just the two of us time together before.  I was looking forward to it, and I was so thankful for the company.  Turnip isn’t a bad companion either.  He rode along as a little trooper in his car seat.  I will never turn down an opportunity to snuggle with him – ever!

As the day progressed, we spent our travel time just swapping stories and getting to know each other better.  Turns out, we have a lot in common.  She probably discovered what most of my friends do – I have a story about everything!  At some point, we were sharing some pretty amazing stories of how God has handled things in our life.  I don’t really know how it happened, but she was telling of an amazing opportunity of when God had put her in a place to truly bless some strangers.

As she was telling her story, it was almost as if God dropped some knowledge on that mini-van that went straight to my heart.  Sometimes, I just need to get out of my own way.  That seems theoretically impossible, but what I mean is that sometimes, I let MY plans, MY worries, MY fears, and MY failures, get in the way of God’s.  I really get bent out of shape if MY plans go awry.

Listening to her story, I realized that every single time that MY plans didn’t, well, go as planned. God had either set me up to be blessed more or placed me to bless someone else.  That knowledge was a humbling game changer.  I thought about how God had lovingly given me a new set of skills for the next plan that falls apart.  I need to adjust my horizon by praying, “Okay God! I don’t know what’s coming but I’m ready to be blessed or to bless someone.  And I’m listening.”

When that light bulb went on in my head, I am fairly certain that the Ultimate Teacher smiled. 

3 Things: 10/8/12

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I needed a week long to recover from Reed’s Run.  I have a series of blogs that will be coming in the next few days sharing special memories from that weekend, but I have missed writing about things that I enjoy.  So now that Reed’s Run has come to a close, I am ready to share my weekly list of things that make me smile.

  1. Surprises – I had a big one at Reed’s Run which I will be sharing in a later blog, and I had one this summer.  On our return trip home from Florida our first night’s stop was actually at my grandmother’s house in Alabama.  When we arrived, there was a car in the driveway that I didn’t recognize.  If you grew up in the South, you know to read the license plates because it will tell you not only the state from which the car hails but also the county, designated by words or by a code number.  In this case, the car was from Fulton County, Georgia.  I knew in a heartbeat that could only mean one thing . . . my Uncle Rendell and my Aunt Margaret.  Knowing that my aunt was extremely ill with Stage 4 cancer, their presence was a gift incredible!  To know that I was loved that much to make a couple hour trip brought me to tears.  We had such a lovely visit catching up and seeing how my kids and their grandkids had grown.  It would be our last conversation because my aunt went home to Jesus at the beginning of September.  Even though it was our last visit here, she is just one of the many necks that I cannot wait to hug in heaven. Surprises that become cherished memories DEFINITELY make me smile.
  2. Impromptu Family/Friends Gatherings – The night before Reed’s Run we had an impromptu bonfire and birthday celebration for our September birthdays following the Lakeview football game.  We had a goofy sing-along naming off a bunch of names of ninth month celebrants followed by roasting s’mores in place of serving birthday cake.  The giggles and story-swapping only got better as the fire died down.  Sawyer had a great time meeting his “God-brother” for the first time and helping him to roast a marshmallow.  It wasn’t fancy nor was it gourmet – although we turned a few heads by following a Team Stevens time-honored tradition of using Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups instead of Hershey’s bars.  Even though the gathering lacked refinement, it definitely exuded magic.  The magic of life.  The magic of reconnecting.  The magic of celebrating.  The magic of the ordinary and the extraordinary thing called love.  That kind of magic will always make me smile.
  3. Amazing Friends – The week before Reed’s Run, I received a phone call from a dear friend who told me that she was praying for my Sunday.  It was a good thing that it was not a Skype conversation.  I stood mouth-apage with eyebrows raised in perplexity.  “Did she really think that the Run was Sunday?”  My silent indignation must have been perceivable through the phone line.  My friend further explained that she knew that Reed’s Run was probably the closest thing to a wedding that we would ever have for Reed.  She had been praying for me not to wake-up on Sunday and say disappointedly, “We went to all that work for that!”  I understood that sentiment of disappointment. She wanted us to wake up blessed and amazed.  (We did.) More importantly, this sweet lady wanted us to know that people were praying – even for things that we didn’t know.  Having friends that know your needs even before you know them is smile-worthy.

Feeling loved.  Being surprised, even when I knew I was  saying good-bye.  Having second mile friends.  Celebrating the little stuff.  All of it confirms something that I heard on the radio the other day.

The speaker said that we should all have “campaign signs” in our front yards that said that “God voted for me!”  My last few weeks have been a secure confirmation that the speaker spoke the truth!

Blessed and loved . . . and still smiling!

 

Sweet 16 (days to go)

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Along the way on our grief journey, our friends have been invaluable in our healing.  They have literally been our cheering section.  The amazing thing is these friends have always been there for us, even when we didn’t know or fess up to how much we needed them.  Yesterday, I mentioned classmates who will be graduating and how part of our decision making centered on them.   We continue to watch from the wings as they learn to spread theirs.

Reed had a diverse group of friends, both in personality and age.  We are excited to see how they will shine in this world. We already see glimpses of their glow in many different ways.  Not the least among those ways is how they consistently love on us, especially in the darkest days.  It seems they have picked up Reed’s encouragement “contagion”.  They share amazing stories and special moments.  They are always there with a hug, a card, an e-mail, or an unexpected visit. These friends share a history not only with Reed as well as being shareholders in keeping Reed’s legacy.  And they have done well.

It was purposeful when we asked these kids (many of whom tower over me now) to be on the Reed’s Run committee.  They bring a vibrant youthful perspective to every decision we make.  This group of friends also has a heart for God.  Even though their expression of faith may all differ, the way they let their lights shine is no less intentional.  And for that we are PROUD, and we know that Reed would be too.

So to: Quinn, Kayla, Jacob, Damien, Nattie, Mallory, Chelsey, Spencer, Cody, Ciara, Jacob, Garett, Taylor, Brent, Lucas, & Garrett

For being a huge part of Reed’s Run and for being an even bigger part of our lives, we thank you for being the Sweet 16.   Thank you for sharing your lives with us and helping us to continue to make our home a place where fun still lives (even if we put holes in walls and have out-of-control ping pong games in the garage).  For keeping inside jokes (like climbing the curtains) or for offering a hand to hold, together we have woven a web of shared love.  Any of you could fill the missing 6th chair at our table, and it would feel just like home!

 

 

The Value of Friendships

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Imagine a late summer day, my kitchen is steaming from the canning of tomatoes.  The phone rings, and the caller id says it is my best friend.  She is 430 miles away “delivering” her oldest to college in North Dakota.  I knew from hello she had something exciting to tell me.  “You know those crockpot liner bags that we’ve been dreaming of?  Well, I have finally found them. Woo hoo!”  Now let me tell you something about that moment.  It takes a real friend to know that you are going to get “jump and down excited” over that news.  And I did!

Yet, this friendship like most of my closest friends also has had to endure life’s challenges and hardships.  We have weathered the loss of grandparents, parents, and children; job changes, house relocations, illnesses in our children, and everyday hurts and disappointments. There are those people who will drop everything to come running when you need help.  And she has on more than one occasion.  

Incredibly, I AM SO BLESSED because I can make a list of  friends of that have loved me beyond measure.  Friends who appear in the line at your son’s memorial service and tell you that you are going to sit down and eat something – not because you want to but because you need to.  Friends who call you because God has laid you on their heart and they don’t know why.  Friends who offer to take your kids so that you can have some peace and quiet.  Friends who remind you that you cannot do everything, and they hold you accountable.  Friends who keep your traditions when you are so exhausted that you cannot. Friends who love you even if you are a maniacal sports mom, and they cheer with you.  Friends who call and tell you that you have incredible kids because they caught them in the act of doing something wonderful.  Friends who know that you will answer the phone in the middle of the night and who will cry with you.  Friends that  get your sense of humor and laugh with you in a lightning storm on a football field. Friends who share the coveted title of mother on her son’s wedding bulletin.  Friends who live far away but use technology to keep in touch and to encourage you. Friends who defend you when others don’t know what you are going through.  Friends who are praying for you, even though you didn’t ask. Friends who remember the little things and send a card, e-mail, or letter.  Friends who encourage you to be so much more than you think that you are, but yet who God designed you to be.  I have all these friends, and yes, I AM TRULY BLESSED!

It was a phone call recently that prompted me to pause and really think about friendships. Her words were like a soothing balm to me.  “I just had to call you because you would get it.” The short version is that through a previous conversation, she was thinking about something she wanted to share with me and some other friends,  but what she wanted to give us wasn’t readily available.   Then in a series of everyday events, the speaker she was thinking about was on her radio.  She just had to call to say that God was amazing, and that a little flip of a radio channel was the bolstering that she needed to go forward. 

 She was right! I did “get it”.  I shared a similar story of the friend where God laid me on her heart and her faithfulness to reach out.  God blessed her with a radio channel, and for me, it was recently a text message. With God, there are no concidences.  The same is true with friendships.  With God, there is no friendship too proud to get excited by crockpot liners, too humble to encourage a friend (even if you don’t know the circumstances), too busy to serve in love, too complacent to say thank you, or too blind to love beyond our shortcomings. 

God has used  spiritual spittle – manifested as the tears of my eyes – through life’s difficulties to wash away the dust cloud of doubt.  He has shown me that He has surrounded me with all sorts of friends to be the living, breathing reminder of the friendship that I share with His son, Jesus.  Through each of my friends, I have come closer to Jesus because each embodies a part of Him that I so desperately need. 

As an “older” Girl Scout, I keep hearing our old meeting song in my head . . . Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is silver and the other gold.  With all the friendships I have been given by God, I am truly swimming in heavenly gold.