Tag Archives: HOPE

Shine On!

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Dear Reed –

I cannot believe that today would be your 21st birthday.  How could it be that I have been a momma for twenty-one years now?  How can it be that eight of these birthdays we’ve spent away from you?  It doesn’t seem possible, and it definitely isn’t fair.

Last night, I got a serious case of the giggles.  I was thinking about how enamored you were one day with your Grandpa Earl.  I vividly remember being snuggled up with blankets on the cold, leather couch in the air conditioned basement, watching Land Before Time for the umpteenth time when out of the blue you told me how much you loved your Grandpa Earl.  You professed your admiration because your bar-owning grandfather worked at the candy store and eats fire. (Because who doesn’t go visit their grandfather at his namesake tavern and get sweet treats?)   I will never forget how hard I had to stifle my laughter.

grandpa and reed

Reed (around age 1) and Grandpa Earl

Yet, it was a defining moment teaching me: love sees only love.

Your ability to see the love (and many times hurt) in any situation is why I feel so profoundly sad on a day like this where I miss you more than ever.

The world lost an amazing kiddo the day you died.

While you were our sunshine, you were truly a beacon to the world.  You loved with abandon and you reminded us often if people hurt you they were most likely hurting themselves.  I will never understand how someone so young could have such wisdom.  I was truly blessed to walk this earth with you even if it was for too brief a time.

In the last few years, there has been so much hate spewed in this world, I grieve simply turning on the television or radio hearing all the awful ways hate and hurt can perpetuate themselves.  I often catch my breath because it all seems so intimidating knowing I am but one voice.  Then I remind myself you never diminished the power of a single person showing up to be someone’s beacon.  With that hope, I steel my resolve and know shining a light may be all I have to offer the world, but today and every day that will always be more than enough.

We need more of what you had in this world – right now and always.

After my late night giggles imagining fire eating grandpas at candy stores, my heart traveled down a lane that I don’t like to traverse.  I recalled our last heartfelt conversation. In a busy family of four young children, small talk abounds, but deep connections are sometimes fleeting. After picking you up at the local caucus (an incredible decision for a 7th grader), we drove back to our house where a Mardi Gras celebration was well under way.

Quietly, you once again amazed me.  It isn’t going to be much longer, Mom.

Perplexed, I inquired as to what in the mayonnaise you could have been referring?

Mom, there is so much hurt in this world.  It cannot be that much longer before Jesus comes back to make this all right again.  We cannot go on hurting each other like this.  We just can’t.

I will never know what you heard at that political gathering, but whatever it was stirred your heart and called you to love fiercely as you waited for the embodiment of love to return.

At the time, I thought it was a strange conversation, but to be honest, I was more worried about whether I hid the baby in the Kings’ Cake well enough.  Seemed so important then, and now I see how absolutely insignificant it was to the lesson you were trying to teach me. Little did I know that exactly a week later, we would be returning you to heaven to bask in the eternal light of love.

All this time, I have wondered if somehow deep inside, you knew that you would not be here for much longer, and you wanted to make sure I understood that like your favorite superheroes we can never give up hope, we can never stop fighting for those less fortunate, and we can never stop believing that good will conquer evil.

Well, I listened and in my heart, I carry your legacy with me wherever I go. 

Love is a powerful force.  No matter our differences, and I daresay, despite them, we must always be willing to love and show light where darkness tries to wipe out hope.  We must be willing to come to the table with hearts open enough to recognize we don’t know everything we think we know about someone else’s story.  We must always be willing to be a helper – at all costs. Finally, we can never, never, NEVER, give up on the hope that the world can be a place filled with love.

I cannot imagine what heaven will be like, but if just for a moment, I can believe that you and Grandpa Earl will find a bar stool in a quiet tavern there today to sit together.  When you two raise a glass “to love”, maybe just to make your momma smile, put a few quarters in the jukebox to sing along like we would at a campfire.

And for the rest of us, we will raise a glass (mine will be sweet tea), and go out shine our lights of love brightly, now and until we can hug you again.

Loving you every day until then – Momma

Commencement

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Oxford Dictionary gives two definitions for the word “commencement”. The second, North American in etymology, is a ceremony in which diplomas are conferred upon graduates. The former and more common is a beginning or new start. I will confess I had only ever really thought about commencement as the lesser used version, but after doing a little research, I clearly see how much I had previously missed. My vision myopic, other than my own degrees and diplomas, I have generally avoided attending graduation ceremonies, because I have always seen them as sad endings.

A few weeks ago, my heart was twisted and torn as the day of the Boy Wonder’s high school graduation finally approached. I tried so terribly hard not to let the feelings of being cheated out of Reed’s graduation cloud my excitement for Sawyer. Tried could definitely be loosely applied here, because eventually my broken heart blurted those words out loud. The gall-like taste of bitterness was choked down because I wanted the day to be amazing for Sawyer while the scab was still fresh from being treated like second-class citizens two years previous.

For me, it is often in the writing my fears or hurts that cause them to diminish. The giants are slayed. My confidence begins to bolster, as I remember that God’s light shines brightest in the darkest of places.

So it was on commencement day. I fretted about my feelings of loss, but once spoken aloud, I was ready as much as I could be. I did come fully supplied to the ceremony with plenty of tissues though, just in case. The tears did fall. At first they were tears of sadness, the end had come. (Remember I hate good-byes, but haven’t perfected the art of just slipping away quietly like my sweetie’s uncle used to do.) There were tears of laughter as I saw the superhero bedazzled mortar board atop his head. That’s my boy! There were tears of joy because we were surrounded by every one of Sawyer’s aunties, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers (including the honorary ones), godmothers and godfather, and even his former nanny and her family. Even the few who couldn’t be there watched via the internet. Each one of those precious people had cheered him on through the darkest nights and hardest moments. For this boy-soon-to-be-man, these people (our people) had prayed.

We all basked in the miracle of the young man who was in front of us. The Boy Wonder who defied all the odds to not just persevere but to become a shining example of resilience, faith, and determination was supported by amazing love that evening. All those prayers were for him to live and hopefully to prosper (and no that wasn’t a Trekkie shout out), but God had so much more planned. . . to give him a hope and a future. God-sized dreams really do come true as he earned the distinction of being valedictorian.

As he spoke to the audience, tears of pride for all he had overcome to achieve the goal he set in the eighth grade fell down my cheeks. Despite all the surgeries and days of missing school, he never wavered in his commitment to coming out on top . . . God-sized dreams, for sure.

Sitting next to one of my best girlfriends whose son also happened to be graduating that nigh, we both shed bittersweet tears. Our boys were leaving, but both grew to be amazing young men. Both a part of the day that changed our county forever. Tears welling up, we held hands. Then, it hit me. Yes, my son was growing up and leaving. No matter which way you look at that, it would be heart wrenching to have another son gone from our home. My revelation came from the true meaning of commencement, this was a new beginning. The boy who had endured so much came out on top, but more importantly along the way touched the lives of many. In the next steps of his journey, I can only imagine what God has in store for him.

All smiles while giving his teary momma a hug! photo courtesy of his godmother

All smiles while giving his teary momma a hug! photo courtesy of his godmother

What I wish I could say . . .

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Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed's Run

Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed’s Run

Last night, I received a text message from my cousin relaying news about another horrific school bus crash. The site of yesterday’s crash – a little over an hour away from where we laid our own sweet boy to rest in North Dakota. Her words sent me to my knees and to the deep recesses of my memories, a place I don’t like to visit. Sadly, I have earned an advanced degree in what lies ahead for BOTH the families of the grieving AND for the families of the injured. Unlike my cousin, I do not know any of them personally. If I did, these are the words I would want to say.

Right now, you feel as if the whole world stopped spinning. There are those who will say, “I know how you feel.” Don’t listen to them. Every person’s story is their own and no one, including me, can ever know exactly how you feel. Your world did stop and as much as I would like to tell you otherwise, it will never be the same.

Breathe. One breath at a time. For a while, maybe even a long while, that will be all your fragile and shocked system will be able to do. There are decisions that will need to be made. Why is it at our lowest moments there are boatloads of decisions that MUST be made. Simply trust that your faith, family, and friends will help guide you. Just breathe. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you will get through this.

In the coming days and weeks, you will discover that you are stronger than you ever knew possible and more loved than you can ever imagine. People – those you know well and those you have never met before – will rally around you. They will dig out crockpots and cake pans, watch your pets, call friends and family, blow snow and pick up mail, hug their kids while they cry for yours, but mostly, they will pray because they don’t know what to do to help you.

Believe me, they will want to help, but all won’t know how to do this gracefully. There are many reasons for this. The biggest of all is what just happened to your family (as what happened to mine) is their worst nightmare. You will be a living reminder that bad things do happen to good people. “Life is absolutely precious and can be gone in an instant” and “I don’t know what I would do if this happened to us” will be at the forefront of their thoughts.

This is where it gets tough because like I said nothing will ever be the same. Some of your friends will not be able to handle their own grief while trying to help you with yours. Remember they love you and your family too. Some will never get over the fact that something bad could happen to their own children. It is too hard of a truth to bear. Others will believe you are enjoying the “fame” that this event will have in your story, as if this is ever how you envisioned the life of your loved ones. Know that you did nothing wrong. Know they didn’t either. Their fears do not negate your grief or your hardship at any point. You will probably develop a thicker skin, but underneath that outer covering will be a broken and shattered – yet humble – heart that will recognize pain in others. Use that light to guide you someday.

Keep breathing and learn to be gentle and kind to yourself. Your body just experienced a trauma even if you were not sitting on that school bus. Every cell in your body experienced the most toxic of shocks. Bodies are resilient, but toxicity takes a toll. You will struggle with the simplest of tasks. You will be forgetful – because that is the amazing thing about these beautiful creations we are. God equipped them with ways of insulating pain – even it lasts for a moment and is fleeting. Right now, you are still focused on one breathe at a time. Someday – oh someday – you will be able to do more than that.

I don’t know all the details of what happened yesterday, nor do I need to know them. I simply know you are hurting. However, you are going to learn all throughout today and the coming days and weeks, how insatiable the appetites are of curious minds. News reports and conversations can and will get the details wrong. As much as that will hurt and you may want to right every wrong, it will not change your hurting, your grief or your loss. This is your story. You are the author of the previous chapters and of the precious ones coming up. You can choose how much or how little you wish for the world to read.

Just keep breathing because every tiny inhalation and exhalation means you are surviving.

Soon you are probably going to just wish you could erase this day and get back to living. This one day will leave an indelible scar, but I know you are stronger than all of this. I promise that you absolutely will LIVE again. It will never be the way you want it to be, but the day will come when you wake up and this isn’t the very first thing on your mind. The road to that day may be short for some, and painfully and agonizingly long for others. That day did come for me, but the journey that began almost seven years ago after our darkest day still has lingering and lasting effects for our family.

Healing is a word that will get tossed around a lot in coming days. Healing can be a lifelong journey. You may have considered yourself a sprinter in life before this moment, but now, you will be changing your pace to endure becoming a marathon runner. There will be surgeries, hours of therapies, medications, appointments, loss of work and income, arguments with insurance, services, memorials, remembrances, and grief, insanely profound grief filled with what-ifs and whys. On those last two, they are jerks and trust me, they will never bring you comfort. You will learn to become your child’s advocate as you didn’t realize that not only are you training for the toughest race of your life but somehow you were promoted to coach of the team as well. Breathe. You are made of the right stuff to lead your family to the finish line – however long and far away that might be.

Things will never be the same. Your lives are changed forever. You won’t want to hear this right now, but you will see better days. The earth opened up and swallowed you into the darkest pit you could ever imagine. But listen in those quiet still moments – even those filled with doubt and fear and trepidation. Really listen. You will hear the voices of those that love you cheering as loudly with their heart songs as possible. Their melodies are there. Old and new friends, you have yet to meet, are cheering the loudest, because they too have found themselves in the pit. They KNOW what you will need to just get up out of bed in the morning.

They always say light shines the brightest in the dark, like those horrible creatures in the deep, deep ocean. Even when grief and pain rear their ugly heads, keep your eyes open. There will be tiny light reminders of love and encouragement, including some heavenly sent, all along the way. Keep your eyes open and breathe. Cling to that shining love because those moments will help you take baby steps to what will ultimately help you move beyond just breathing.

Four little letters that string together to provide the mightiest of foundations. H-O-P-E. Hope it is such a tiny little word, but it changes everything. Outside of breathing, there is nothing greater than I can say to you than cling to hope in whatever way, tiny or grand, God provides it for you. Breathe and hope.

This quilt from Mama is over 65 years old.

Outside of my words, I wish that I could bring my favorite quilt and rocking chair to your halted world today. We could curl up together while my tears mixed in with yours. We would rock and pray, cry and rock, but mostly, I would just hold your hand and remind you to breathe.

As much as I wish that my experience and pain could lessen yours, I know it won’t. There were others than came to comfort us with the comfort they had been given. Their words did not fall on deaf ears, but my heart was not ready to believe the unbelievable. I didn’t think we would make it. The one truth that finally spoke to my heart were two words, the shortest verse in God’s word. Jesus wept. In the aftermath of losing one child and caring for two severely injured others, it was the first thing that made any sense. Jesus wept, and so too am I and many, many more for you and your families. You will make it through this, not because of these words or anything I or anyone else can or will do, but because I know that with Jesus’ dad, all things are possible – including living through and beyond your darkest day. With legions of others, I will be praying for you to be comforted with one beautiful breath after another.

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

Birthday letter

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Dear Reed –

I am sure that Pastor didn’t know how his words last Sunday would impact me. I had heard the quote before, but for some reason, this time the sentiment washed over my soul as if God himself had given me the explanation.

“If there were no love, there would be no grief.” ~Zig Ziglar

reedhuck

Truer words were never spoken because I love you without end. From the moment we learned we were pregnant to the day we said good-bye here on earth and every single day in between, I have been your mom. I always will be. Even though our moments are memories now, you simply cannot tell the heart to stop loving. It is a heart well that will never go dry. Grief would be nothing if a heart didn’t love so deeply. Although, it hurts not having you here, I could never stop being your momma, even if I wanted to.

Sometimes, I think there are people who wish that we didn’t share our journey. This will come as no surprise to you. I really don’t care what they think. They didn’t get the chance to love you the way we did, with a love that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth.

Though our eyes may sometimes be clouded by grief, our hearts are always reminded that as much as we love you God loves you and us more! His beloved Son erased those boundaries so someday we will see you again. Definitely a love without end!

Today has been a delicate tightrope balance, because your birthday falls on Father’s Day. This has only happened twice since you passed away, but it is really a hard day for Dad. I was always jealous of how he had you to hold on his first Father’s Day, just a few days after you were born. Today, I just hurt for him. I think he often wonders what you would be like now, especially after seeing your friends return home from their first year of college.

Both of us are trying to prepare our hearts for Sawyer leaving home next year. Maybe it is because we didn’t get to share all those moments with you; both of us are savoring every moment. We want to hold on with a grip that would keep him young, yet we watch him navigate in a world as amazing person, knowing he is going to do great things. He follows in your footsteps, yet leaving a mark distinctly his own. If you were here, I know you would agree “The FORCE is strong with him.”

Sister is doing well, especially after hearing the news that she would play again after her injury. Just like that time you carried her after her bike crash, I know you would have gently carried her again telling her she was tough. You were there cheering her on. One of the most tender sibling moments ever is one she carries with her as she loves on all the little children that she babysits.

Huck, your four-legged best friend, is doing better than he has for a long while. He moves a little slower, but on a recent trip to “visit” you he moved without haste to lay next to his boy. Cloie is doing her best to help keep him young.

cloie & huck

Speaking of our little Sally Gal, she is perhaps your greatest legacy. So much of her identity is you. Everyone calls her my mini-me, but her personality is a mini-Reed. Just yesterday, we finished reading one of your favorite summertime books, “Love, Ruby Lavender”.   She laughed at exactly the same spots. In her giggle, I heard your laughter. In her repeating the good parts, I heard your voice. I loved it all. Though there were struggles to get her here, I am so glad that God gave us her, but more so, that she came packaged with your heart. It does mine good in so many ways.

Just like you always wanted to do, we once again celebrated your birthday with blizzards for supper tonight. So much better than “Happy Birthday”, the cardinal serenading us as we drove into the driveway was one of those amazing small glimpses of heaven.

The invisible boundary between heaven and earth doesn’t prevent grief, but neither does it stop love.

By God’s design, a momma’s love is a force much stronger than that.

Loving you always

Momma

Love – BIG and small

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A few blogs ago, I shared about what I dubbed, “Freedom Day”. During the many conversations I shared with my new friends, we kept coming back to a central thought. Sometimes, it is the little stuff that matters the most. T and I shared how we wonder if the ways we serve are enough. (Trust me, those thoughts are ours and definitely not God’s who has equipped each of us with unique gifts and talents.)

However, it is easy to get caught up in thinking that the ways we serve God and others is small beans. Comparison is the thief of joy.  T shared about an event where she loved on single young moms in her community. The evening was not fancy, but it was love-filled. She was blown away by how much it meant to those women, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she shared their words.

I have been doing a lot of searching and praying in my family’s yearlong quest to make “JOY” our theme word. I am discovering that God has a lot to teach me about that subject.

Recently I was asked some pretty heartfelt questions about grief. I really pondered one inquiry. “What did you personally do to begin to heal?” Since the answer was about me and not what I did to help my family, I first shared about my sense of helplessness of not being able to serve in any area outside of my family’s day-to-day needs for a long time. I professed that I also had a deep awareness of several things. First, I wanted our home to be a place of sanctuary, not a shrine to sadness. Second, I never wanted my surviving children to feel they didn’t matter when compared to their brother.   Lastly, as bad as our family’s darkness was, I never lost sight of the fact that I had NOT lost everything I could lose, and there are millions of people in situations much worse than mine.

Perspective has a way of focusing your priorities. Reed’s death brought that to my life.

Walking through my worst nightmare (and on days continuing to do so) has brought a new clarity to my heart’s vision. Looking back now, the reformation of my life created a gentler and kinder me.

My new calling may not be fancy. It may not be earth shattering. It may not be record worthy, but it is where God has stirred my soul. While I might have had visions of grandeur before that fateful day, now, I just want to do what God has laid on my heart.

That desire is how I finally answered the question about healing. I combined my passion for serving with my realization of how blessed I was (and still truly am), and I learned how love with abandon. Loving in the small ways.  Loving the hurt, the wounded, the forgotten, the grieving, the disappointed. Loving by doing, by writing, but mostly by listening. And in the way that most surprised me, loving without any strings attached. Simply showing up and loving without any need for recognition or any return.  It is how people loved us (and still love us).

And for the most part, it has been loving in the small ways.

A year ago, some anonymous family did exactly that for my family. They loved in a small way. With the tug-o-war pull between a bunny with baskets and the cross, it is easy to forget how far acts of love go. The picture below is of a note that we received coming home from Easter service last year. Hidden all over our front yard were eggs. All, but one, were filled. The empty one reminded us of God who loved us all in the BIGGEST way, by leaving an empty tomb and the friends whose small act of love reminded us that even small acts of love go a long way.

egged

May you be blessed in the small moments of joy this Easter season!

May God stir in your heart to love with abandon every day of your life!

May you always know that no matter how small it seems to you that loving like God would is always BIG!

 

Shock & Awe

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A few days ago, I sat waiting once again for one of my children to undergo another surgery that was a direct result of injuries sustained in the bus crash that often feels like the albatross around my neck.  We have been doctoring for four of those years while she has dealt with debilitating migraines, out of control sinus issues, and difficulty breathing during sports.  Knowing she has allergies, we sincerely thought allergies and asthma were the cause of all of this.  Our allergist thought differently, and started doing some pretty extensive detective work.  Searching through her past medical records and knowing that no allergen treatment had been effective, he ordered more scans and sent us to an ENT.  I never once suspected what we were told the day we met with him.

Looking at this old CT scan, I don’t see anything amiss. 

The radiologist report says the most recent one is good too, but three days after it was taken she had a major sinus infection.

Well, I don’t know that I agree with that report.  See this . . . she has a deviated septum and these turbinates are completely engulfed in swollen tissues.  It is no wonder you cannot breathe out of your nose! Did some sort of trauma happen to you when you were younger?

It was at that precise moment when I felt as if someone punched me in the gut. Shock!

Trauma

Disappointment

Dismay

As the room was swirling with sinking thoughts, I tried to hold it together to hear the doctor’s suggestions and plans.

How could we have not known that she couldn’t breathe? Shock!

How did we not know that she was injured there too? Shock!

When is this ever going to end? Shock!

The prayers began. 

Ultimately, the decision was hers to make.  The doctors believed having the surgery would increase her chances of chasing her dream – to play college basketball.  Her only stipulation was the surgery could not interfere with this year’s basketball season!  She was exhausted with living this way.

Bracing ourselves for another post-surgical patient in our home, we cleared our calendars, finished up projects, and generally tied up loose ends.  In a household as busy as ours, preparations, lots of them, must be made when you need a parent at home at all times for seven days of recuperation.

As S-day approached, slowly, like a leaking pipe, fear began to ooze from my thoughts.  There are very few friends with whom I choose to share this vulnerability.  Despite my recent costume attire, I do not, even for one second, believe that I am Wonder Woman, impervious to fear and doubt.  Being afraid for my children is a pastime that I would love to retire.  Fear started to creep in, choking me, and I reached out looking for a lifeline.

God answered my prayers by calming my fears, and throughout the day, his reminders just kept billowing in.

Early in the morning:

Text from me:

Fear is consuming me.  I just wish you lived closer.

Text from my friend:

What time is surgery? We’ve been praying.

10:00 AM

I will be there.

What? This cannot be! I wish I could put into words the gift that my friend gave.  Let’s just say, her willingness to come from miles away, leave her children at home, and spend a day worried about me, more than my girl, was a priceless treasure. Awe!

Lunch at school:

Out of the blue, a fellow teacher and wonderful Christian woman shared a story with me about how God holds those who are in the darkest moments tightly to him.  Tears streamed down my face in the cafeteria as I heard words, literally breathed from God.  Awe!

Early afternoon:

An e-mail from the church secretary (and dear friend) alerted me that our pastor (and also dear friend) needed the time of the surgery.  He, too, would be coming to spend the time (which ended up being a day) with us at the surgical center. His steadfast friendship since the day of the bus crash has amazed us.  Awe!

Later in the evening:

After I shared on Facebook my prayer request for the surgery, e-mails, messages, and posts came pouring in.  These were not your average messages either.  They were heartfelt promises of prayer, practical suggestions from those who had also similar procedures done, and offers to help in any way we needed it.  Humbly awed!

Overnight:

Clothed in those prayers, I slept peacefully – which I don’t normally do. Awe!

Walking into the surgical center:

In a way only God could orchestrate, he placed two mommas (along with my pastor and friend) at the same surgical center, the same day, with the same doctor.  A little girl who my big girl mentors was having surgery immediately before her. Honestly, what are the odds?  During her dark moments of waiting, she buoyed me by giving me the biggest hug of encouragement. Just another reminder my teacher friend was right!

God does hold tightly those he loves – especially when they need it the most.

Like a small child on Christmas morning, I will never lose a sense of wonder of how he provides everything that I need, even when my light is dimmed by fear, doubt and worry.

So thankful that my God is bigger than all of life’s shocks and fills my soul with awe!

Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare. Psalm 40:5 (NIV)

Post-surgery: Okay, so this is not my actual child. She was pretty miserable so I would not take that picture - EVER!

Post-surgery: Okay, so this is not my actual child. But this bear, her parting gift, gives you a good idea of what she looked like.  They had matching gauze guards and Band-Aids.  I will admit, biasedly, that my daughter is much cuter!

Being still

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Photo courtesy of Lil' Sprout Memories

Photo courtesy of Lil’ Sprout Memories

A while back, I posted a blog http://kandynolesstevens.com/2013/09/09/i-cry/.  The blog wasn’t difficult to write, but it was agonizingly hard to post.  The shed tears were real.  More salinated drops fell for some points, especially the ones for my children, than others.  In the end, it was cathartic to write, because in doing so, the “monsters” don’t seem so threatening anymore.  It is as if with each keystroke God allowed me to replace my sadness.  Well, actually it isn’t replacement so much as relinquishment to the foot of his throne.

Why is the writing of such posts a beautiful process while the sharing of them such a challenge?  At times, I feel like a modern-day Jacob wrestling with God.  There are plenty of things that I write that are not published, but this time I had an overwhelming sense God wanted me to share my tears publicly.

I know I cannot circumvent the reality that losing a child is horrifyingly painful.  Add to that raising injured and grieving children, and my pain at times feels like pulling back layers of an onion.  Every time, I shed one layer, there is just another eye-stinging layer below.  I get tired of removing layers. So much so the sharing of them with others becomes less and less interesting to me.   I just don’t feel that broadcasting my pain is valuable other than to show my pain and weakness, not mention my doubts and failures.  What good comes from that?  Where is my purpose?  Is this really God’s plan?

It is a good thing my ways are most definitely NOT God’s ways, because He continues to remind me I couldn’t be more wrong.  As I was writing, “I Cry” I received a call from my sweet friends down in Kentucky.  They went out to dinner and felt something was missing in the gathering.  That something was their “Angel Girl” whom God brought into their lives this summer.  I could “join” them as they passed the phone around the table.  When the phone made it to Miss E, she shared that she didn’t understand why but felt that God wanted me to know that He would be replacing my clothes of despair with a garment of praise.  She had no idea what I was writing at the exact moment my phone rang.  I could barely choke out an audible syllable as her words bathed my soul in God’s love. She (through God’s prompting) gave me the exact words to share in my post.  A message of hope, when in truth, I needed a good reminder.

And if I needed more proof, which I didn’t, God provided it.  Within ten minutes of the blog posting, I received three messages (e-mail, text, and phone call) from dear, dear friends who said through their tears how thankful they were for someone to put into writing what their hearts were holding back.  In only God’s intervention, my words became an anthem for others to be rocked gently by the continued message of hope.  My heart’s desire is to honor God with everything I do.  Slowly He is teaching me that the road to achieving that goal may be filled with bumps and bruises AND the sharing of them with others.

I don’t have to be the poster child for grief.  Yet,  in my most vulnerable moments, He has used my writing to reach out to the souls of others; thereby reclaiming my mess and making it a message.  I never intended for my faith to be on display during our darkest moments, but that very faith that has sustained us.  A life blood filtering from the one who shed his blood.

There has been a long lull between posts.  The silence was not wasted.  In the quiet time since my last post, I have used this time to literally be still, finding peace and rest in the arms of my Savior knowing that He does have a plan for all of this. I pray each and every day that He helps me to see it.

As I have shared in many previous posts, sometimes that message of love and hope for my life comes to me in a song.  This time it came in the melodies of one of my favorite groups:  Sidewalk Prophets.  Their lyrics, like the words from my long-distance friends, touch me like God himself had them written just for me. Awed and humbled, I know if God can use the darkest moment of my life,  He can for you too.  Simply trust – He already has a plan in place.

Seeing clearly after the fog

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fog

Although he brings sorrow, he also has mercy and great love. Lamentations 3:32

This morning I started my day as usual with devotions.  Technology was not my friend as my Bible app would not open.  Not to be deterred, I grabbed my Devotional Bible – edited by Max Lucado – from my nightstand.  As I was heading to Ezekiel, my trusty book fell open to Lamentations.  Not just anywhere in Lamentations – nope – at a page that I had dog-eared and worn.  The highlighted words were a mirror reflection of where I was at last week – in a fog.

Thankfully, I had friends and family members praying for me and guiding me through what was quite possibly the hardest day of my life since the bus crash.  I did make it through, and miraculously with God’s help the fog lifted almost immediately.

I don’t believe in coincidences.  I needed that reminder this morning that God was not absent last week, nor was He when my son died.

I’m a prayer vigil person.  If I cannot sleep, it is usually because God has someone in mind that I should be praying for.  Last night was no different.  I have several friends, their kids, and communities facing a fog of their own.  So, I prayed . . .

While I personally cannot do much other than that to help ease the storm for each of them right now, I can remind them that there is one who can lift the fog.  My life story is a testament to that fact. Cling to him and He will guide you to new found peace.

The devotional below is from “No Wonder They Call Him the Savior” by Max Lucado.

The fog of the broken heart.

It’s a dark fog that slyly imprisons the soul and refuses easy escape.  It’s a silent mist that eclipses the sun and beckons the darkness.  It’s a heavy cloud that honors no hour and respects no person. Depression, discouragement, disappointment, doubt . . . all are companions of this dreaded presence.

The fog the broken heart disorients our life.  It makes it hard to see the road.  Dim your lights.  Wipe off the windshield.  Slow down.  Do what you wish, nothing helps.  When this fog encircles us, our vision is blocked and tomorrow is a forever away.  When this billowy blackness envelops, the most earnest words of help and hope are but vacant phrases.

If you have ever been betrayed by a friend, you know what I mean. If you have ever been dumped by a spouse or abandoned by a parent, you have seen this fog.  If you have ever placed a spade of dirt on a loved one’s casket or kept vigil at a dear one’s beside, you, too, recognize this cloud.

If you have been in this fog, or are in it now, you can be sure of one thing – you are not alone.  Even the saltiest of sea captains have their bearings because of the appearance of this unwanted cloud.  . .

Think back over the last two or three months.  How many broken hearts did you encounter? How many wounded spirits did you witness? How many stories of tragedy did you read about? . . .

The list goes on and on, doesn’t it?  Foggy tragedies. How they blind our vision and destroy our dreams.  Forget any great hopes of reaching the world.  Forget any plans of changing society. Forget any aspirations of moving mountains. Forget all that. Just help me make it through the night!

The suffering of the broken heart . . .

Seeing God . . .does wonders for our own suffering.  God was never more human than at this hour.  God was never nearer to us than when he hurt.  The Incarnation was never so fulfilled as in the garden. 

As a result, time spent in the fog of pain could be the God’s greatest gift.  It could be the hour that we finally see our Maker . . . Maybe in our suffering we can see God like never before.

The next time you are called to suffer, pay attention.  It may the closest you ever get to God.  Watch closely.  It could very well be that the hand that extends itself to lead you out of the fog is a pierced one. 

I know the story behind this song, but sometimes I believe that it was written just for me.  I think music is often a reflection of my soul and story.

Sweet Grace: hope-filled

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Note: While we are working on our website, the monthly newsletter will be found on the blog.  Once we have it finalized, the newsletter will be available by subscription only.  Graciously, we have some guest posts in this newsletter as we welcome submissions from our friends for the newsletter. Our lives have been enriched by the friends that God has put in our paths, and we would love for you to get to know them a little bit as well.

~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace ~

As a little girl, Easter was always my favorite holiday.  I enjoyed Christmas, but Easter always made my heart just jump for joy.  I loved picking out the perfect Easter dress, bonnet, shoes, and those oh so adorable white gloves.  I still love gloves today. There is just something so genteel about little white gloves.  Growing up down South, we had egg hunts outside and sunrise services where we didn’t freeze to death.  When Easter morning arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.  The items in my basket were always good, but for me the pure joy came when we stepped through the doors of our white church.  He is risen!  He is risen indeed!  Those hope-filled phrases were used in place of hello, and they echoed from every corner of the sanctuary.Lil' Sprout Memories   Christmas is wonderful, but it if you want to see joyful Christians come to church early on Easter morning.  I like contemporary Christian music, but I was raised on good old Southern gospel hymns. Each Easter, joy and hope exuded from every pore as we sang “Because He Lives” and “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”.  Even today, I still get goose bumps when I hear the organ roll leading into the chorus of “Up from the Grave He Arose”.

Easter is the definition of HOPE. Maybe not according to Webster’s, but it really should be.  Recently, I have been grappling with the reality of Easter.  For any believer who has lost someone, the significance of Easter is a clinging hope. The only hope that makes sense. It is the promise that through Christ’s sacrifice, we will see those loved ones again.  His incredible gift to humanity has made that possible.  When I was a little girl singing with her church family, I would often get choked up on Easter morning.  The chocolate bunnies and Peeps were nice, but even then I realized that someone gave his life for me.  Lately, my conflict has been are we recognizing what Jesus really did? He didn’t just give up extra cream in his latte or get bumped off a flight.  He gave his life in a cruel, brutal and foretold way so that we could know the lavish depth of His Father’s love. If you have ever felt unloved, this is why you shouldn’t.  He loved you enough to go through with the most horrific of deaths.  If you ever feel left out or rejected, please know that he chose me (and you and everyone else) – loved me enough to lay down his life.  But even more significantly, he would have done it even if I was the only one who needed to be saved, and that alone fills my heart with hope.

Family Cooking: Easter Bread Nest

oneperfectbite.blogspot.com

oneperfectbite.blogspot.com

This has been a gift for several years from our friend, Karla Adams.  She is an amazing cook, seamstress, volunteer, and friend.  Actually, I don’t know much she isn’t good at. Kandy’s kiddos have always loved when the Easter “knock” comes and there she is with the gift of this bread.  It always looks beautiful on our Easter table.  Delicious, fun, and something the whole family will love.

Ingredients:

2 Frozen loaves bread

5 raw eggs

Food coloring

Powdered sugar frosting

Dye eggs with food coloring. Add food coloring to 1/2 c water. Dye as desired. DO NOT boil eggs first.

 

When bread is thawed and just starting to rise,  make into ropes of dough. You will have 2 long ropes. Take the ropes and twist them together. Place on a greased cookie sheet. Shape into a circle and pinch the end together to form this circle. Place the dyed eggs into the braided gaps. This will look funny at first. But as the bread rises it will look more like a nest.

Spray dough with cooking spray. Try not to spray eggs. Place a flour sack towel over it. When bread has doubled in size, bake @ 350 for 25– 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Cool completely. Drizzle with powdered sugar frosting. Leave it white or color it. Sprinkle with Easter colored M&M’s or robin egg candies.

NOTE: Before making the ropes I like to roll out each loaf of bread and add some butter and sugar with cinnamon. This gives it a little extra look and taste.

February Challenges: The February newsletter’s theme was love.  We encouraged our readers to Did you love your neighbors? Did you encourage a young person last month?  If so we would love to hear from you. 

The best laid plans . . . well, we didn’t get the neighborhood soup night accomplished.   The mission/tagline of this ministry ~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace isn’t just something we say, but it is how we really operate on a daily basis.  We want to be genuine and real, even when we come up short on goals.  Instead of soup night, we cleared snow off of driveways following a recent snow storm.  Our neighbors who were out of town returned home to clean driveways and were able to just relax.  I did accomplish the writing of letters for challenge #2.  I chose six teenagers to write letters of encouragement and told how proud I was of them.  Most importantly, I told them how I was glad they were in my children’s lives.  After I had mailed them, I told my kiddos that I had done it, in case any of the recipients said anything to them.  A few did, and I received a call from one mom.  The best was the one who caught my eye (didn’t say anything), but made sure I noticed her after the school band concert.  It felt really good to do it.   So much so, that I think it is going to become a habit.

fay-prairieMaking hope a habit is the lesson from our guest writer this month.  Our friend, Fay Prairie has blessed us with a great piece on choosing hope.  Fay is a speaker, writer, counselor, wife, mom, and friend.  You can learn more about her at her website http://www.fayprairie.com/ I have enjoyed getting to know her, and she has been a huge encouragement to me as I have decided to follow God’s leading in forming all of this.

Hope Can Advance Your Life

Life is full of uncertainties, disappointments, and moments of despair. However, even when times get difficult and intimidating, as long as we keep hope alive, we can continue to move forward with confidence.

When you have hope, you believe and have faith that things will get better and you will persevere. Hope is a powerful attitude which opens doors where despair slams them shut.

The Webster definition of hope is the “feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” or the “feeling that something desired may happen.”

How does hope help us in our life?

1. Hope helps us to feel stronger. When we truly believe things will get better, we are willing to do whatever it takes. With hope we can look to the future with confidence and excitement, and we can begin to do more than we ever imagined.

2. Hope helps us focus on the positive. Whatever we focus on grows. When we maintain our focus on the positives in our life, more positive things come into our life. Hope allows us to look forward to all the wonderful things in life.

3. Hope helps us envision possibilities and solutions There will always be difficulties, but hope helps us to visualize good outcomes. It allows us to expect good things to happen.

4. Hope gives us the desire to learn and grow. Hope helps us regain interest and get involved more fully in life. By growing as a person we will make improvements that lead to greater life-satisfaction and well-being.

5. Hope helps us to take an empowered view toward life. A hopeful attitude helps us see the best, work for the best, and, ultimately, experience the best in life. Hope increases our joy, courage and level of success in life.

No matter what you face in life, always think hopefully, speak hopefully, work hopefully, and act hopefully. Do all you can to make hope a daily habit. Remind yourself that regardless of what happens in your life, you always have the option to choose hope.

Family Traditions

For the last few years, Kandy’s and Brenda’s families have gotten together to dye Easter eggs.  We all look forward to it.  Last year, I think we dyed eight dozen eggs.  We decided the four dozen from the year before just wasn’t enough. Everyone gets involved.  There is a lot of creativity – including planning for the next time we do this. Conversations of I saw this cool idea in Martha Stewart magazine or on Pinterest come up more than once. We dream, we plan, but mostly we laugh.  I don’t think anything tops the laughter from the year we created a mural with the left over dye.  After admiring everyone’s creations, we lamented about how the dye was just going to go to waste.  As a teacher, I am always up for a new experiment.  With a twinkle in my eye, I ran downstairs and grabbed an old white sheet that was destined to become a plant protector when the fall frosts threatened my garden.  We took those coffee cups filled with dye and splatter painted that sheet.  It was amazing.  It was so much fun that it lands up there with catching fireflies, playing in the sprinkler, and running to meet the ice cream truck for this Southern girl.  Of course, the most laughter came after the sheet dried and we noticed the now Easter dyed lawn.  Oh well, a little collateral damage was worth the fun we had.

We would love to hear of your families Easter traditions. Please respond to this post with what Easter traditions you and your family hold dear.  

 Family Easter Garden 

We decided to see repeat a blog from last year because it was such a wonderful activity that our whole family enjoyed. Our littlest one took pride each day in spritzing the garden with water.  As the garden grew, she delighted in trimming the lawn with scissors.

http://kandynolesstevens.com/2012/04/02/easter-countdown-part-1-johnathan-has-a-starring-role/

March Encouragement

Spend a few minutes each day in the next week, praying and asking God to bring to mind one – just one – person that you can bring hope.  Often in life, it is the small things that bring the most hope.  Once you know who that person is do one small thing for them – write a note, send flowers, drop by for a visit, make a call, make a meal, do a chore. Just do something, and leave a message of hope.  If you feel comfortable, you can tell the recipient you were the hope-filled giver.  We would love to hear what you decide to do.

Ministry Update

We are proud to announce that we have partnered with 5j Design LLC to design our logo and website  to help us basically help ourselves (when we are way over our heads technically speaking).  They are assisting us in developing a better way to reach others with the message of God’s grace and love. In the coming months, we should have a new website with a more streamlined method of communicating with our friends and churches.  The story of how we found Jake and Zach is an amazing God story, but just know He is looking out for us.  Based on guidance from our friends at 5J Design, we have made one small change in our ministry.  Watch for the unveiling of that change in the coming days.

We wait with hope for spring filled days where we can sit on the deck, sipping sweet tea and chatting.  Until then, we would love to chat with you.

Kandy & Brenda

Romans 15:13  May the God of hope fill you  with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you  may abound in hope. (NIV)