In the fog...

The wedding day finally arrived and what a beautiful day it was. I'm amazed at how much planning goes into a moment, and when that moment comes, you can't hold onto it long enough before it seems to quickly slip through your hands. Danielle looked beautiful-of course-and Adam her groom looked just as striking. Yes I may be biased, but I was so happy for both of them. This day would be one of the most celebrated days our family has ever known and yet none of us could escape the challenge that we all still had to face; our beloved Jay was not there.

In the days approaching the wedding, I found myself searching for him. What I mean is that I was looking for "the connection". It's the ability I've had in the past to just close my eyes and see him when I need him.  But, to my surprise, this wasn't happening. As the big day drew even closer my search turned into more of an  emotional panic as I found myself unable to find him at all. Why couldn't I connect? What was this "fade" I felt and where did it come from? Our daughter was about to get married and it felt like my soul had lost Jay.

I had begun a thought in my mind's eye that I was hoping to build upon. I started this thought weeks before the wedding. I kept thinking of what Jay would be like the morning of. I could picture him waking up in our hotel room being very quiet and very deep in thought as I'd be in some sort of a chaotic rush. I'd be talking his head off with all of my excited energy, and then [in my mind's eye] I could see him doing something that he always did whenever we had a special family moment. I'll try to explain as this was very intimate and personal:

Whenever Jay was feeling grateful about our marriage, and our "whole" family, he would quietly come up from behind me-- usually while I'd be in the midst of putting on my makeup or something like that-- and he would place one hand on each of my hips. I would immediately know where his thoughts were. I would stop whatever I was doing,  turn to face him, and he would always say "Thank you" of which I would always reply with a "Thank you" right back, and then we'd hug a very long and quiet hug. This was always a humble place for us to be together. A ritual that began because Jay and I had a great respect and appreciation for each other's good fight. We knew what it had taken to have these very special family moments, and our hearts were grateful to a God who had given us so much.

But unfortunately even this precious memory that I was clinging to so tightly would fade out and I wasn't able to build upon it any further. The countdown to the big day was turning to hours, and hours to minutes, and as our little girl was about to take her walk down the aisle, I found myself having to accept that despite my strongest efforts I would not be able to find Jay the way I needed. It left me feeling severed and a little lost. I wanted to say to God, "Don't you care that I need him right now?" But I couldn't. I know that this is simply the hardship of losing someone so important in your life. Jesus understood that pain and he wept because of it. John11:33-36

There's a scene that keeps repeating in the depths of my soul. I'm in a forest and the fog has become so thick that I can hardly see my hand in front of me. For a moment I want to freeze because I'm scared,  but I tell myself that I have to move. I lower myself to the ground, and as I do, I stretch out my arms in front of me finding a thick heavy rope. Lifting this rope I begin to tug on it, but just as I begin to tug harder I hear a faint whisper cutting through the fog. Within moments this whisper finds me and I can clearly hear the words, "I'm the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow". And suddenly the weight of the rope is lifted, and I remember that I'm not alone.

In less than a month Jay will have been gone for one year and there is most definitely a tug of war in my soul about it. There is nothing in the fiber of my being that says it's okay to let go, nothing. The ticking clock brings about a fade that I can't control, all I can do is surrender to it's purpose and nothing about it feels right. But my Lord reminds me that He doesn't change in a world that's broken, and where there should have been no hope He is all hope. He is my absolute anchor, and He promises to guide me through this unfamiliar territory.

The scripture says in Hebrews 13:7-8 "Remember your leaders who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow." As God navigated our teachers in His written word, His promise is that He too will navigate us as we face a world that holds unknowns. What is known is that He will never change. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Psalm 102 25-27 says, "In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garement. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discarded. But you remain the same, and your years will never end." John Piper says of this verse: "The visible universe with all its laws that scientists bank on so heavily to be unchanging is like a shirt compared to God: it was put on at creation, and it will be taken off when God is through with it. So what the world regards as the baseline of stability is not. God is. And Jesus Christ is God."

Through this painful journey I take comfort in these scriptures and in the truth that they hold for me. My fog may get thick, but if I continue to search for His purposes He will continue to navigate me through it. Where He may at times seem completely unclear, my Lord always knows where I am, and He will keep me on the right path. This is my heart's desire.

"Thank you Lord for being my anchor. Despite the pain of such great loss I see your grace that much more and I'm grateful. As the Psalmist King David prayed, so do I--"Teach me Lord, the way of your decrees, that I may follow it to the end". Amen

God is good...

How...?

My good friend, sister in Christ, and future mother-in-law to my daughter Danielle had asked me at lunch one day, "What's the hardest thing you're dealing with right now"? This was a question she could ask with much emotion attached because she herself is in the throws of dealing with a great loss. Back in April of 2013 she [Kathy] had found out her own mother had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and just 3 months after Jay went home to be with the Lord, her mother [affectionately known as Amee] would end her battle with sickness and take her glorious journey home to that mountain high above.

So as Kathy posed this very delicate question to me, I realized that she was opening the door to stop and think, 'Where are we right now, and what are our needs"? As mothers of the bride and groom we've been eagerly ready to unite our families, but we've also been through one of the roughest seasons of our lives, and now here we were just weeks before the big day.  How do our minds wrap around the joy of this great celebration, while trying to cope with such great loss?

I've said it before, and I can't help but say it again, grief is a process. One minute I think I'm doing good and the next, I'm literally devastated all over again. I ask God often, "How will I go the rest of my life with this much sorrow"? And that was my answer to Kathy's question--"How will I go the rest of my life with this much sorrow"?

I recently celebrated my 30th anniversary. This was a bit overdue since my anniversary was in December, but I've been sick, a lot! It turns out my immune system has pretty much shut down. This can be a pretty common side effect when suffering the loss of a loved one, but in March I was able to get well enough to head out to Laguna Beach and finally celebrate mine and Jay's life of 30 years together.

I was a little nervous knowing I'd be there without him,  staying at a hotel that held such great memories for both of us, seeing the spots on the beach we always called "ours", and passing all of our favorite food dives. But my daughter Danielle was with me the whole way to lend her love and support. After all, despite our grief, we had something we wanted to celebrate and we were determined to do so.

The weather was great, and I loved all of the opportunities I had to tell Danielle about the different stories of mine and her dad's time there. Some moments I shared with her were very special like when I surprised him with a stay at our favorite hotel. He turned the tables on me by surprising me with a beautiful heart shaped diamond necklace that he gave me in our room when we arrived. I was also able to share more casual moments like where our favorite walking paths were, and where we loved to eat Mexican food. It was such a great time of remembering him and feeling his presence throughout--but true to form--when I returned home his absence was that much more clear because of it, and when that happens the sorrow runs painfully deep.

So how does a person get through life with this much sorrow? The saying goes that time heals all wounds, but that gives little comfort when the clock seems to go slow when you need it to go fast, and fast when you need it to go slow. Time moving at all just seems wrong. And these were the thoughts on my mind when I went to bed that first night back from our weekend of celebrating.

As I laid in bed I reached out to the Lord for comfort and asked my pressing question, "how...",  but He was silent, so my next move was to mentally prepare myself for a difficult week ahead. What I feared was that the heartache I felt would have no relief, and relief is what I so desperately needed, but as morning came the Lord's silence would change, and I would be reminded once again of His great love and care for me.

Jay had a best friend named Ben. Before Jay passed away we found out that Ben and his wife Heather would be having their 3rd child. Not long after Jay passed, Ben and Heather got the news that they would be having a boy. Without a second thought they decided they would name their son after my husband whose real name is Joe, and that they would call their son baby Jay. The whole thing just tickles me inside when I talk about it! Anyway, on this morning I received a text to be ready--Heather was in labor and baby Jay was on his way.

Ben and Heather had decided that they wanted to give me the honor of being the first one to see him after he was born, so after receiving the text I found myself on call for the day. My excitement began to build. My thoughts were shifted from sorrow to joy, and with the anticipation of baby Jay coming into this world I found myself walking around in public with a silly smile on my face that I couldn't control.

At about 4:30 I got the text, 'she's pushing', and that was my cue to head over. When I arrived at the hospital baby Jay was born, and I couldn't get up to the room quick enough to see him. I got to hold him within the first two hours of his birth and I was elated! I remember thinking as I stared into his precious face, 'Welcome baby Jay. God loves you so much, and we're all going to make sure you know it". I found myself in awe as I thought about my weekend, and the start of this day. One minute I had been mourning death so heavily I felt like I couldn't breathe, and the next minute I was not only celebrating life, I was holding it in my arms.

Life is complicated, but I believe the answer to my question, "how will I go the rest of my life with this much sorrow', lies somewhere between accepting pain and embracing celebration, both with a grateful heart, because both make the face of Jesus that much clearer.

Please pray for me and my growing family as we prepare to embrace the celebration of  Danielle and Adam's wedding day. Jay and Amee will be there with us in spirit and forever in our hearts, and for that I am grateful.

God is good...

He stilled the storm to a whisper...

Well we did it. My family and I managed to pack up that huge house we had lived in for over 7 years and finally get on our way. It was an experience I hope I never have to go through again--there was just so much stuff to pack!!  It seemed as though we'd clear one area and box it up, and the mess would double in another. I remember thinking, "Seriously, is all this stuff mine?" Without Jay to share it with I was feeling very detached from it all, and for that reason, packing proved to be a difficult challenge.

The one thing I didn't feel detached from was my room. I had managed to keep it in tact while the walls around the house seem to come tumbling down so that no matter how chaotic it became, I could walk into my room, shut the door, and feel a sense of calm. Jay's closet remained untouched for as long as I could allow, and when it came time to start packing it up I decided through the wisdom of grief classes, to make it a time of reflection. My girls came over along with my niece, and although it felt awkward to begin the process of going through his items, once we did, we found ourselves enjoying all of the great memories that each of these precious treasures held for us.

We pulled out his infamous Grinch shirt and hat that he wore at one of our ugly sweater Christmas parties, and his reading glasses which reminded us all of him wrapped up in his soft robe, sipping coffee on a Sunday morning. His flip flops that he loved so much were all lined up, and we went through all of his walking shorts that were such a signature look of his. One of my favorite pieces was a long sleeve thermal that he wore often and it made his big muscular arms feel soft and warm. We smelled his colognes that carried his scents, and put on his jackets and scarves to feel a touch of his warmth. It really was a good and uplifting time of remembering how much Jay made us smile and how much he loved his family.

But as everyone left, the joy I was feeling began to quickly dissolve and I found myself standing alone in a room that didn't feel like mine anymore. This safe and comfortable place that I had kept in tact while the rest of the walls seemed to be tumbling down was now dented with a devastating blow. Jay's closet had been half emptied, and the reality of his presence slipping away from me began to hurt.  I tried to find some hope in my circumstances but my mind was tired and I began to shut down. Starring into Jay's closet I thought to myself, "these are the moments that can bruise a soul', and with that thought, I heard one word, "reach". I had no idea what I'd be reaching for, but I felt that this word came from the Lord and if  He was telling me to reach, I believed He had something for me to find. So I sat in my unpleasant silence committing my thoughts to Him, and began to dig as deeply as I could. What I found were more memories.

My first memory was when Jay got our dog Samson. I was furious! I didn't want a dog, but Jay had no fear of my firm "NO", and how thankful I am that he didn't. Samson became our baby. We both fell in love with him and Jay took a lot of pleasure in watching me become a doting parent. It truly was one of his biggest "I told you so's", and he loved reminding me of it.

I then thought about our couch dates. Every weekday that Jay wasn't traveling, around 6:00 pm, one of us would say to the other, "couch date?" and the other would say , "yep, what time?" Then we'd pick a time, [usually around 8:00 pm] to meet on the couch in our comfy clothes and catch up on all of  our favorite shows. Jay would usually sit on his side of the couch reclined back, and I'd usually lay across the couch with my head on his lap, and of course we'd both make sure one of us had a foot on Samson so he didn't feel left out. It was such a comfortable place for us to be and something we always looked forward to. In fact whenever we'd get into a fight you could tell we'd want to make up before our couch date time. Couch dates were considered sacred ground and not to be messed with.

Then I remembered a really special moment when Jay surprised me with my new wedding ring. We were in the dining room with our girls. He hadn't told them he was going to give it to me, but we were all having such
a good time that he said it just felt right. He quietly stepped out of the room, grabbed it,  and slipped back into his seat at the other end of the table waiting patiently for me to notice him holding the open box. I was in mid laughter when my eyes caught the sight of him. His smile was so sweet and sincere, and  he walked over to me and slipped my new ring onto my finger. We both were crying and even seemed to forget that the kids were in the room. I'll always remember how we both felt in that very moment.

As my mind became flooded with these precious thoughts I found myself in the midst of a soothing calm. I was still very aware of the boxes scattered everywhere, Jay's half emptied closet, and the now echoing halls of the house. But despite the storm that was raging around me, God used my thoughts to bring me to the center of it all where the waters were still and I could feel safe. I was in the eye of the storm. I thought about Psalm 107:29 which says, He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. I was reminded that God's eye is always on me, and that no matter what my circumstances are, He is my refuge--my calm in the midst of my storm. It was there [in the eye of the storm] that I was able to recover and my bruised soul found rest.

I know more storms lie ahead. There's not a moment that goes by that I don't think of Jay. That I don't desire him back, and moving forward without him means choppy waters for sure. But storms teach us faith as we learn to keep our eyes on our Lord and not the waters. We're able to witness His mighty hand still the storm to a whisper as He guides us to our safe haven, and why? Why does He do this?  Scripture says it's because of His unfailing love for us and that we're to praise Him for it, and I do. 

"Thank you Lord for your unfailing love. You teach me, strengthen me, and refine me as I journey home to you through the path of this broken world. But never alone, you are my refuge--you are my Lord." Amen

God is good...

Psalm 107:23-32
Some went out on the sea in ships;
they were merchants on the mighty waters.
They saw the works of the Lord,
his wonderful deeds in the deep.
For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
that lifted high the waves.
They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
in their peril their courage melted away.
They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
they were at their wits end.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
and he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
and he guided them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love
and his wonderful deeds for mankind.
Let them exalt him in the assembly of the people
and praise him in the council of the elders.

Turning a New Corner

Jay passed away in July, and not even two weeks later we faced his 49th birthday without him. From there came Fall--the change of the season which lead into Thanksgiving, and that led into my thirty year wedding anniversary, and then came Christmas, and so on and so on and so on. 

Grief is just hard, and there is a lot of opportunity to get lost in it. I often want to succumb to those thoughts that can discourage and tear away the very hope of the cross, but God is so faithful to his children. I find that every time I'm there, God says to me "you do your part and I promise I'll do mine". He simply wants my trust, He's capable to do the rest. 

One of my greatest comforts when I'm feeling so much pain at the loss of my beloved Jay is Psalm 34:18-The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. I take so much comfort in knowing that when I'm feeling broken hearted and crushed in spirit, that God's word tells me that He draws close to me. It's okay for me to melt, it's okay for me to stop--He understands. 

So, speaking of crushed spirits, we're in the process of moving and although I've had more than a few months to prepare for this, it's all happening too fast. I can feel my heart breaking as the time draws closer and closer to our final day here...and why? It's just a house right? But the truth is that it's so much more than that. It's what Jay and I we we're building together.

I remember our first day here. It's a cute story to me; really warms my heart to think of it. We got the keys to our new home from the model home office. Jay was so excited and suggested that we run back home [to our old house] and grab one thing that was most important to us to bring into our new home for the first time. I didn't even have to give it a second thought. He didn't want us to show each other what we were bringing so when we got back to our old house we ran in, grabbed our items, and threw them in the car without each other looking.

When we drove to our new home, he shot up stairs and I eagerly ran back to the car to grab the most important thing I could bring into my new house. Anyone who knows me might guess exactly what it was--my Kitchenaide stand mixer of course!! I placed it in it's new spot, shinned it up a bit and said, "Welcome home baby"! 

Jay came downstairs and got a big kick out of my selection but he wasn't surprised, he knew me too well. He then asked me to come upstairs to see what he brought. He took me up to our bedroom and on each side sitting on the floor where the nightstands would go, he had a framed picture of me as a little girl on his side, and a framed picture of him as a little boy on mine. This meant a lot to both of us because we always saw each other's vulnerable child inside. Jay so badly wanted me to protect him, and I so badly wanted protection as well. We relied on each other for this protection our whole young marriage, but what we didn't realize was that as we were turning a new corner, moving into our new home, this is where we'd grow up. This is where we'd stop seeing each other as children in need of help and instead become two adults who just wanted to rest together. When Jay passed away we were really enjoying life, enjoying our kids, and enjoying our home. 

I guess there's really no way to go through this without pain. It's time to turn yet another corner, and with that comes the need to trust God's plan for my life. I miss Jay so much but I'm so thankful that I have my Lord who will guide me through this. He's so good to me, never abandons me, and He cares that I hurt. 

Oswald Chambers says, "We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or the other beautiful attractions in life--those are simply intended to be moments of inspiration. We are made for the valley and the ordinary things of life, and that is where we have to prove our stamina and strength". 

As I turn this corner and step into a new valley I take with me my moments of inspiration that God has given me on the mountain tops--and I know that He has so much more for me that will come in His perfect timing. But as I walk in the valley, I can reach into my pockets where I store all of my gold nuggets that God has blessed me with, and I  can remember who I am. I'm His, and when I do my part, He doesn't let me forget it. 

The day before New Years Eve my daughter Danielle and I went to the movies. As we came out of the theater I saw the side of one of those big movie posters that line the corridors, and the movie's release date was written along side of it. I said to my daughter, "Hey look, that movie is coming out on my birthday". She said, "isn't that the Captain America movie poster?" I told her I didn't think it was, but sure enough as we rounded the corner, that was in fact the case. There we stood staring in awe at this big poster with the Captain America sheild purtruding out of the front of it, and my birthday written underneath. I thought of Jay--our hero, Captain America. I could literally feel the warmth of God smiling on me. A precious little gift from my Father above, and I had yet another nugget to put in my pocket.

Packing up this house and turning a new corner is going to be very hard, and I'm going to have to reach into my pockets a lot. But my gosh my pockets are full! And they're full because I. Am. His. 

"Thank you Lord for the full life I've had here, and for the full and complete marriage that you have blessed me, Jay, and my family with. You are so good, and my trust is in you. I'm so grateful that Jay's resting in the light of your glory". Amen

And this is the house that God built. "I love you Jay"

Father Knows Best

The scene would be...

Christmas Eve was typically the highlight of our family's Christmas celebration. Sure the kids would love their Christmas mornings with presents sprawled all over the place, but nothing compared to just being together at my parent's house celebrating Christmas Eve year after year.

We'd have our traditional feast of tamales, rice and beans, plenty of cookies and my dad's famous two-toned fudge. We also would do a white elephant gift exchange game--and let me tell you--this game progressed to be a very serious and focused tradition. Somehow, year after year we'd need yet another explanation of how the game was played, and of course there was always confusion, lots of noise, and plenty of over explaining by Jay...but eventually we'd get going and it was always a chaotic blast. Those are precious memories now that we all hold more dear than ever before. I know it'll take some time for us to work our way back to playing our game again and continuing our tradition, but time will help us get there. It's something I want to continue because it's such a special reminder of Jay's presence, and where for a time some things might sting, I'm also finding that they can be my greatest comforts.

Flash forward to Christmas 2013...

This Christmas I had a plan. It was a good plan I thought. With the loss of Jay and the quickly approaching Christmas Day, I thought it would be best to protect myself and my family from the pain of enduring this first Christmas without him. My plan? Vegas, baby! That's right, Vegas. Bright lights, busy action, shows, fast pace, noise, don't sleep, don't think, and let's not forget BUFFETS!! Yep, that was my great plan. We'd leave on Christmas morning so that we'd be too busy to "feel" on Christmas Eve because we'd be packing and getting ready for our trip, and since it was something so over the top different, we were all looking forward to it.

My mom still wanted us to come over on Christmas Eve and decided it wouldn't be so hard if we switched it up a bit. Of course we wouldn't be playing the White Elephant game, and we got together earlier than usual. It was more of a noon-time gathering so we could all get home early and get ready for Las Vegas. I liked the idea.

We were keeping busy, it was all going good until...

I had developed a pain in my back on Christmas Eve on the way to my parents house. "Okay, no big--I'll just try to stretch it out," I thought. Not the case. By evening it hurt to breathe and the pain had moved from my shoulder blade area to my side rib. I didn't know what was going on, but I had been coughing for a straight month at this point and feared that there was some kind of a connection. We got home that night and although the pain was increasing, I had the highest hopes that I would wake up healed and be on my way to Vegas the next morning. Instead, the pain became somewhat crippling to my movement and I knew I had to do the right thing, cancel our trip. I was really set back by this. After all, I had the perfect plan; our Christmas Vegas trip was going to protect us and help us cope with this difficult time without Jay. But circumstances stopped the process and I had to surrender to what I had no control over.

Another family tradition of ours is that I make snowman pancakes on Christmas morning, and no matter how bad I was hobbling around the house that morning, this was one thing we weren't going to give up. I cooked up our holiday breakfast and then we decided that we would go to Jay's grave site later that afternoon. I hadn't been to his grave site since his birthday in August--it's kind of a hard place to go--but I felt a great peace and a need to be there all of a sudden; now that Vegas was off we could take our time and leave when we felt ready.

When we pulled up to the cemetery so much went through my mind. I thought about the day of the funeral. I look back on that day and feel like I floated through it in a way. It still feels sometimes like I'm looking at someone else's life and not my own, but walking up to his grave lifts all that fog away and It becomes so real again. I felt the feelings of disbelief, the need to get down on the ground and get as close as possible to him, the desire to turn the clock somehow and bring him back, and then the acceptance of what is. I felt all that in the short walk to his grave.

My parents had been taking care of it and had decorated it with a Christmas tree and flowers. It was beautiful. It gave him such honor, and showed how loved he was. I so appreciate that they're doing what I can't right now.

My sister-in-law Dar was originally going to be out of town for Christmas but it didn't work out so she unexpectedly was having her usual Christmas Day open-house. The kids had decided after going to the grave site that they would go over there to spend some time with her, and I had decided that I would part with them and head home so that I could rest my back.

We stayed at Jay's site for a while--and then it was time to go. As we were walking back to the car, I felt good. I suddenly felt full of energy and decided that I would go to my sister-in-laws house with the kids. It surprised even me because I had been pretty determined to get home and rest, but I just had a need to see her and stay together as a family. I figured I could just go for a little bit, say hi, and get home.

My son Ryan was ahead of us in his car and pulled up to Dar's street first. We pulled up just a few minutes after him, and to all of our surprise almost every one of Jay's side of the family was there in her front yard. There was Dar and Tammy [Jay's sister's], my niece and nephew [Tammy's kids] and Herb and Bob. We didn't expect to see all of them and they didn't expect to see all of us! It turns out that a turn of events orchestrated this great union. My niece and nephew were actually leaving when a couple of loose dogs sidetracked them. If this didn't happen They would have been gone already and we would have missed them. Tammy and Bob were about to leave as well. They were just waiting to see my daughter Heather who was almost there. Nobody knew we were coming since we were supposed to be on our way to Vegas. But now here we were, all of us together, on Christmas Day. Talk about a Christmas miracle!

We all made our way into Dar's house and began to mingle, and the joy in the air was amazing. We were all so happy to be together. This very thing that I was trying to avoid by keeping myself occupied and busy, protecting myself from having to "feel" too much, was in fact giving me so much unexpected comfort and pleasure. I could feel Jay in the room and I could see him. It was precious, not just to me, but to us all. We all felt it.

Jay's sister Tammy is his twin and although I never noticed it before Jay passed away, what I can see now is that he's there in the corner of her eyes. She smiles and and I can literally see him for a moment. He's in her heart, and I get to see it every time she laughs. And then there's his sister Dar. They're so much alike. Dar does this thing where she likes to hold out on information and reveal it in kind of  childlike, mischievous surprise. When she does this, she gets a look on her face and everyone will ask what she's up to and she won't say it until she's ready. The more we beg, the more she proudly holds back with a smirky grin that always seems to get us going. It's endearing, and it's exactly what Jay used to do. Her and Jay shared the same playful side, and when she acts like that I can literally feel him in the room. Being with our niece Rachel and our nephew Josiah, Jay loved them so much. They had Jay's heart, and when I'm around them, I feel him because of it.

All of this joy in the air called for a toast. Dar poured some Ouzo And we all stood, raised our glasses and honored Jay. It was such a great moment. We all loved him so much, and we were all together, and we were all reminding each other of him because he's a part of us all.

Yes, my great plan was interupted, but thankfully my Father knows best. Jerimiah 29:11says, For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. This is what my God has for me. 

God is good...

A Time to Reflect

Saying goodbye to 2013 is bittersweet. The loss of Jay was the worst pain I've ever known and yet because of faith I celebrate his rest, and eagerly look forward to being with him again soon. Although I've experienced grief and continue to do so, I recognize the sovereign hand of God and feel overwhelmingly blessed. And even though Jay's gone, I feel God's presence and I know I'm not alone. I know Jay is safe, and that I'll be okay because God will never leave me. Jay has blessed us, his family, because he's pioneered the way for us and left us with a stronger awareness of the beautiful wonders of our living Christ.

Looking back on the year it was hard, painful, and life changing, but I have so much to be thankful for because God is good, no matter what. 

Happy New Year and may God bless you as you journey into 2014!

A look at 2013 with a grateful heart. He'll always be with us...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34BUwbAFbNo&feature=em-upload_owner

Exceeding Our Reach

I never, never thought I'd be facing my 30 year anniversary alone. Jay and I had talked about how we wanted to celebrate; after all this was a big one. We thought we could renew our vows, maybe go to Hawaii, try to get the kids on board for a family trip... but all plans came to a halt when our daughter Danielle's boyfriend Adam hit us with a big surprise. He sat across from us over sushi one night almost a year ago and I'll never forget the words he spoke; "I love your daughter and I want to spend the rest of my life with her".

My face immediately dropped into my hands as uncontrollable [happy] tears flowed from my eyes, and Jay just sat silent. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, nor did I care much since I was too busy dialing Adams mom so we could scream together with excitement over the phone. When things calmed down--meaning when I calmed down--we began to discuss what the next few days would look like as Adam laid out his plans for the proposal and the future he envisioned with our "little girl".

On our way home that night--after saying goodbye to our future son in law, Jay played the song What a Wonderful World [this was the song chosen by Danielle since Jr. High to be hers and his dance at her wedding], and suddenly this poised and well reserved daddy came crashing down. He cried the whole way home. Jay had always been kind of shotgun father who never fully trusted anyone to be good enough for his daughters, but Adam got to him. As much as he didn't want to see his little girl grow up, he knew Adam was "the one" and suddenly our focus gladly went from planning our 30 year anniversary to planning a wedding instead.

But now here we are, and so much has changed since that night and I find myself marking 30 years of mine and Jay's marriage without him by my side. It's hard, and inside I'm sad, but what a legacy we've left for our children. Danielle and Adam are standing at the threshold of the marriage journey and it won't be long before the rest of my kids are there as well. Together me and Jay have shown them that marriage has a bigger purpose than what could ever possibly be known without the power of the Holy Spirit. We taught them that faith is necessary on this journey, and that hope is given to those who trust Him.  We showed them that marriage is sacred and that if they entrust it to God, He will use it to teach them the ways of agape love. They saw two souls-their parents- who knew how to fight a good fight for their faith and for each other, and a God who was and is and always will be faithful and true. This is the legacy that we as man and wife, mother and father, leave to our children, and I think it's a great way to celebrate 30 years.

A quote from Robert Browning, a well known poet says, "Ah but that a man's grasp should exceed his reach or what's heaven for". I just want to say, "Thank you Jay for taking my hand and reaching with me. We exceeded our reach and God smiled on us. I'd do it all over again, and yet we don't have too. I can't wait to see you again my precious love".

A gift from my son Ryan. God is good... :)