I didn’t know we were family

It’s been a rough year around here. And those of you who follow me (thank you so much!), I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t been posting nearly as often as I used to. This last year my emotions have been so raw it’s hard to write and on top of that I am extremely empathetic. If you hurt, I hurt. Even if I don’t know you and I see you cry, it’s a safe bet I’ll be crying, too.

A few weeks ago, Facebook came out with a new feature. It wasn’t the thumbs down button we have all been asking for, but it was five (I think) different choices on top of the “like” button. And I am a child of the 90s, I am (on the upper edge) in the generation that was just young enough to get Facebook and MySpace and live journal (if you know how I can get my hands on my live journal these days I’d love to have those words!), but old enough to not ruin my life on social media.

All of these extra options on Facebook seemed so silly to me when they came out. All we asked for was a thumbs down. And I’m old enough, I don’t even know what all those faces stand for. I know that there is a heart for love (over like?) and a laughing out loud one and a sad one. I’m not sure what the other faces are for.

That sad face. The one with the tears and when you press on it, it says sad. That is the face I have used the most these last few days. Well, let’s be honest. These last 24 hours have been the saddest. I can’t even count the times I’ve pressed that sad face today.

We all love in groups. You have those closest to you and then like a ripple when you through a stone in the water your love expands. And you love every ripple, but maybe you love that first ripple more than the fifth or maybe you love all those ripples and can’t even tell the difference between them. I have always known who is in my first ripple. My first ripple is full of all the people who cried with me when Grandpa John died. It is family and friends who should be family.

That first ripple is all I did (could) focus on when Grandpa died. Those were the people who hurt with me. Those were the people who understood what he meant to me. Those were the ones that clung to me as I grieved.

Today I learned about the other rings. Those people who joked around with me. Those people who bought me a drink when we were hanging out. Those people who served me a drink or two too many and then walked me home because they love me and need me to be safe, and I’m safe with them.  Those people who get a kick out of me when I’m not at my best. Those people who aren’t blood but are better and closer to me than some that are blood.

Today we lost a mother. And while I am so close with her husband and son (they are some of my favorite people), I am not blood. And maybe it sounds bad to say, but before today I didn’t know we were family. I didn’t know how much I loved them. I didn’t know how much they meant to me and how much their pain would hurt me.

Oh my goodness. That’s not what I meant. Or maybe it is. I have this group of people, and I have known for a long time that I love them. What I didn’t know before today was how much I loved them. I always thought it was like anyone loves their friends, (although I have little experience with this as well. I have one forever friend (I’m looking at you, Cassidy!). And then today, my friends lost their mother, I thought they were fifth ripple friends, and then I learned they really are first or second ripple friends.

Now, biologically she was only the mother to one of my friends. However, by love she was the mother to most of the people who I am friends with today. I think of that group of kids that were around when I was young. They called my mom Ratmom because there were so many that loved her. Shirley was the Ratmom of my new group of friends.

There are people who lost their mom young, there are people who never knew their mom, there are people whose mom just gave up on them. And Shirley was there for all of them. It didn’t matter if you needed a mom as a child or as an adult, Shirley would be your mom. It didn’t even matter if you thought you didn’t need a mom. If Shirley thought you needed a mom, you got one in her.  And tonight, so many more than she birthed are mourning the loss of their mom.

Tonight I had the chance to look at all these “kids” in a different light. This is my family. I didn’t know before tonight how much I loved every single one of these people. We all come from different places and backgrounds, but when you put us all in the same room, you can’t tell a difference. This is family.

Maybe in this family, I am the third cousin twice removed. But I’m still family. And they are still family. And I would do anything to keep them from the pain they are feeling tonight. But what I can do is laugh with them, and cry with them. We can tell stories and talk nonsense. We will come up with a plan to take care of Dad (this is so familiar and again I am so grateful Grandma has us to ground her).

It seems so silly, but I didn’t know this was family until today. I had no idea how much I loved these people until the pain was knocking on our door. When we (because I know my husband feels it more than I do) say, “is there anything we can do?” What we mean is, cry on our shoulder. Let us buy you a beer. Just know we hurt so much and aren’t blood but wish there was anything we could do. And then remember that the one thing I knew about Shirley was that blood didn’t matter at all.

Those that are family, those that love us, those that we love, remember that every tear you cry, we cry with you. We feel every pain. And maybe it doesn’t make your pain less, but where she is now, there is no pain.

Jesus didn’t need the stone rolled away.

There is something that bothers me a lot when we talk about Easter or when I hear songs about the resurrection. It’s a little thing, a small detail that most people probably don’t even hear. But when we talk about Easter and use this certain phrasing it changes the story.

One of my favorite Christian songs is Glorious Day by Counting Crowns.  They use this phrasing in their song. “One day the grave could conceal Him no longer, one day the stone rolled away from the door. Then He arose over death He had conquered.” Did you hear it? Honestly its just one little word. THEN He arose.

Nope. That’s not how it works. Jesus did not need the stone rolled away so He could leave the tomb. When you use the word then it sounds like Jesus couldn’t leave the tomb unless someone opened the door. We believe He was born to a virgin, lived a perfect life, died on the cross for our sins, and rose from the dead three days later, but He needed the stone moved so He could get out of the tomb?

Maybe it’s silly how much this one word affects me, but, to me, this changes the story. It opens up room for so much doubt. How could Jesus be the Son of God if He needed the stone moved? He performed miracles but was trapped in the tomb until the stone was moved? Was He trapped in there until an angel of the Lord came down from Heaven and rolled the stone away? (Matthew 28:2)

No. Jesus wasn’t in the tomb when the angel moved the stone. Matthew 28:5-8 says, “But the angel answered and said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for He has risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead, and indeed He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him. Behold, I have told you.'”

The stone was not rolled away so Jesus could come out. Jesus was long gone from the tomb when the stone was rolled away. He was already on His way. He is alive. The stone was rolled away so that we may go in. It was moved so we  could see that the tomb was empty, so we could see the folded cloth and know that Jesus is not there. The stone was moved for us.

The stone was rolled away and we found an empty tomb, not Jesus waiting to get out.

Do you hear the difference that one word makes in the story? Death was already conquered. Jesus had already arose. God had already won, long before the stone was moved. The stone was moved so those who needed to see the empty grave could see it.

I’m not sure why the story gets told as if the stone was rolled away first. Maybe in the songs it just flows nicer that way. Maybe people don’t even realize the way they are phrasing it. Maybe I’m the only one in the whole world who hears it that way. (Although I’m guessing you’ll hear it now even if you never have in the past.) Maybe it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but it does bother me.

Jesus rose from the dead and THEN the stone was rolled away from the tomb. Not the other way around.

 

Super Duper Tuesday

It’s Super Tuesday in the United States. During election season, this is the day that the most states vote in the primary elections and tends to set the tone for the rest of the election season. It is very hard, if not impossible to come out of Super Tuesday without winning several states and continue on to win your party’s nomination. Today is an important political day.

I love politics. I listen to talk radio. I watch the shows. I read as many of the articles as I can stomach. I follow this stuff closely. Today is a big day for me even though my state isn’t voting today. In fact, if I could find someone willing to entertain my husband and children this evening so I can watch the election coverage on TV, Facebook and Twitter that would be super awesome. Since that probably won’t happen, I’ll be watching as much coverage as I can without my family losing their minds.

I like to talk politics. I like to argue politics. I have always been a conservative, both socially and fiscally. I am against big government. Until the last 6-10 years, I have considered myself a republican. However, as I have grown and paid more and more attention to the state of the world around us, I no longer consider myself a republican. Technically, I am probably an independent, but I lean hard to the Libertarian party. Because while I am very conservative in my personal beliefs, I honestly don’t give a crap what you want to do as long as it doesn’t affect my personal freedoms. I want the government to leave me alone and I want you to leave me alone.

So I’ve been watching this election cycle closely. I am amazed by the direction both political parties are going. I made up my mind about my vote more than a year ago (before people even began announcing that they would run). I have known for a while who I would like to see as the next president. And while I have made my decisions, there have been other candidates come and go that I could consider voting for. And there are some candidates that I would never vote for.

In the past I have normally voted straight republican, but that has changed. In our last state election, I voted for the libertarian candidate over the republican (who I know) because of the votes cast at the state capital. I have contact several of the people claiming to represent me because I will not vote for them again. You can not just assume you have my vote. I have actually contacted the democrat senator for my state on more than one occasion to thank him for at least doing what he said he was going to do, even when I don’t agree with what he is doing. At least I know where he stands on the issues.

There is one thing that I can guarantee you this election cycle. When it is my turn to vote, I will not cast a vote for Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders, or Donald Trump. I also will not stay home on election day. I will vote third-party. I will write in a candidate to vote for. I am tired of accepting someone who I can not stomach. I am not going to hold my nose and cast my vote.

I have prayed more over this election than any other in my lifetime. I truly believe this is the election that will decide whether the United States stands or falls. I have prayed that God would give us not the leader that we deserve but the leader that would bring us back to the path of righteousness. I pray that we will not vote with hate or fear or anger but that we would vote with love. That we would vote with a love for our nation and a love for God.

If you live in a Super Tuesday state, please vote today. But before you go to the polls, please pray. And know that there are people out there praying for you, too. I pray that the right person comes out on top tonight. I pray that God’s will be done. I pray that goodness and righteousness win out over name calling and lies and backroom deals.

A letter to Grandma for Her Birthday

Dear Grandma,

I can’t even to begin to imagine how hard these last few months have been for you. From the first hospital visit to today, your whole life has changed. Grandpa was your rock, and I can’t imagine anything that would be harder for you than losing him.

I’ve watched you this last year. I’ve seen the strength you gave him when you had no strength left because you knew he needed those last moments, we needed those last moments before he went to the Father. I know the nights you didn’t sleep because he didn’t sleep. I know that even when he did sleep you laid awake to keep watch over him.

I know how you struggle today to fill your time because he was your time. I know how alone you feel because he was your other half. I know that you never imagined a life without him because he was your life.

And I sat at your table this week. And you watched the boys play their games and we talked about life and everything that had happened in the week since we had seen you. And we even talked about Grandpa a little. Not in any big or hard ways, but just in the natural way he came up in conversation, in how he would react to the world around us. Or how we all think of him every time Purdue plays basketball. (Oh my goodness, he would be madder than my husband in how they have been playing!)

I’m not sure why, but this has been a hard week for me. I miss Grandpa so much right now, maybe even more than the week he died. He was always there to talk to, and sometimes when we talk I imagine how he would react to it. And if I’m struggling this much this week, I can’t even imagine how hard things are for you.

I love Grandpa so much, but I know you love him even more than I can imagine. I can’t imagine losing my husband after 11 years of marriage, and I know that’s only a drop in the bucket after 60. I wish I could tell you how to move on, how to breath in and breath out every day. I wish I could tell you what to do to make each day easier. I wish there was a way I could make each day easier.

And I know (and I know you know) there is a reason God called Grandpa home and left you here with us. And not that I would pick him over you, I’m just selfish enough to want you both here with me now. It makes me want to scream out that it isn’t fair. And we all know that isn’t the way life works. We all have a story to tell and God doesn’t call us home until our story is done, no matter how long or short the story is.

Sunday is your 80th birthday. Maybe that is why Grandpa being gone hurts so much this week. I can just see him trying to convince you that you needed a party and 80 candles on a cake. I can see him rejoicing that God gave us all one more year with you.

And maybe that’s where we all need to be right now. Yes, it hurts so much. Yes, we will continue to cry and miss Grandpa, but his story was told. Your story isn’t finished and we need to continue to tell it. And I thank God for every additional day I have with you, that my boys have with you because your story isn’t finished. And while I didn’t believe, even after he was sick, that Grandpa’s story was coming to an end, I am so thankful for every day we had with him. And I know you are, too.

So know that while you are struggling through this time of change, we are struggling with you. And know that while you are learning how to live without Grandpa, we are too. I know it’s not the same. I know as much as I hurt, you must hurt 1,000 times more. But also know that your story isn’t finished. God still has work for you to do here on earth.

This may be the least happiest birthday letter ever written. And this is probably your least happiest birthday ever. And while we celebrate God giving us another year with you, it’s okay to have tears for the year He didn’t give us with Grandpa.

I’m sorry this letter isn’t more cheery, but I don’t think cheer is what any of us have to give right now. Maybe for your 81st birthday we can be cheery. I love you very, very much. Happy Birthday, Grandma.

 

This is my story

I realize it’s not Wednesday. But even if it was Wednesday, it’s been so long since I’ve done a Worship Wednesday post, it would probably confuse you all. But it’s not Wednesday, it’s Friday. And this Friday, I’m listening to music waiting for my husband to get home from the store and one of my current favorite Christian songs comes on, Big Daddy Weave’s My Story.

This song speaks to me so much. I grew up in a Christian home. There was never a time when we didn’t go to church. There was never a time when I didn’t believe in God, or know that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God who came to earth as a man, who lived a perfect life, died on the cross for ME, and arose three days later. This has always been true for me.

And then I’m around people talking about their story, and they all have this big AHA moment where suddenly they understood and believed and knew Jesus came for them. And then I feel like I am less. Everyone is sharing their salvation story, and I just sit there uncomfortable hoping no one is looking at me. I don’t have this big story. I do not have a single moment in my life where I remember anything but believing in Jesus. Does this make me less?

I grew up in the church. We always, ALWAYS, went to church. If you spent the night at our house, you went to church on Sunday morning, too. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it (unless you snuck out at the crack of dawn. I’m looking at you, Joey). We went on Sunday mornings and Sunday nights until we changed churches and then we went on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. We were always in church. And if something happened with the church we were currently attending, we immediately were in another church. Church, God and Jesus are just something that has always been a part of me.

I hear people tell these stories, and I am so moved by them. They were in this horrible place and God spoke to them and they found Jesus and I rejoice with them. These are amazing stories. And then I am terrified they will ask me mine. And then what do I say? I’ve always believed? I’ve never doubted the presence of God?

Don’t get me wrong. I have made mistakes. I have made my own gigantic, horrible, terrible mistakes. But even in the midst of those mistakes, I knew God; I knew Jesus. While I was making my mistakes, there was never a moment when I doubted the presence of God. And while my mistakes may have taken me away from God, I knew that He had never left me.

What kind of story is that? What kind of testimony is it to say you always knew Him? There are days this makes me feel less, less Christian, less devoted, just less. And how ridiculous is that? Shouldn’t always knowing Him be more or equal to? But still I feel less.

My middle brother was the first of the three of us that were baptize. I remember so clearly as a teenager my brother saying he wanted to be baptized again because the first time he was baptized we were attending a Church of Christ where they have communion every Sunday and my brother really wanted to be able to have communion because every one else was. I remember my teenage brother with his amazing story being baptized again. (I am not saying that he ever doubted God or Jesus, just so we are clear.) I remember watching him being dunked into that water and being so proud of the choice he was making. I remember being jealous that he had this moment of clarity and a story he could tell. Isn’t that silly?

I know not having an amazing story doesn’t make me less. It doesn’t lessen my worth in my Father’s eyes. It’s such a silly human thing that I’m sure comes from Satan. And maybe that’s why this song means so much to me.

To tell you my story is to tell of Him.

My story (or lack thereof) doesn’t make me less. It doesn’t make me more. It makes me me. We all have different stories. We all come to Him in different places. Do you know what is important? It’s not the story. It’s that we come to Him.

So if you ask me my story, I will tell you a story of when Life overcame the grave. I will tell you of when justice was served but when mercy won. Let me tell you of the grace that is greater than all of my sin (and boy have I sinned.). Can I tell you about the kindness of Jesus which is more than any of us can imagine? This is my story. This is my song.

so far, Big Kids are the best

This week my baby turned six. It seems almost unbelievable.  I’m pretty sure it was just yesterday that he was this baby I could easily carrying around and now he is this “big kid” who is officially an inch taller than his brother who is two years older than him and darn near 100 pounds.

birthday bowl

He thought he was so funny with his

fork and the bowl on his head ready for birthday cake

After every birthday, I find myself thinking back on the birthdays past and thinking of what the future might hold for us. And with every birthday, I find that as the boys grow older each age is better than the one before it.

I loved having babies and all that comes with having babies. And I know I had easy babies. It was so much fun watching them learn and grow. I loved all those firsts we got to experience, the rolling over, the crawling, the first laugh and smiles, the first steps. There is something so special about babies. And if I could talk my husband into it, we would have had a dozen.

And then those babies who are so soft and sweet and dependent on you, grow into toddlers who are learning about independence and pushing the boundaries and taking on their own personalities and feelings and attitudes. And while there are times that they want to walk on their own, they also want you to carry them, and they’ll curl up in your lap to cuddle and hear a story or even be rocked to sleep. And though there were times as toddlers, the boys made me absolutely crazy, I loved having toddlers.

And now I have two “big kids” which is just mind-blowing. I remember taking my little kids to the park and hating when the “big kids” showed up. These big kids have their own very distinct personalities and opinions. I’m afraid they are going to eat us out of house and home. They are growing so fast. They are so smart and are learning new and bigger things each and every day. I love having big kids.

At this point, we get glances at the men they are going to be when they are grown. They look at ordinary, everyday things and can envision something wondrous and amazing. They are learning to read and write and think up new things. They have wiggly teeth. They tell jokes that 99% of the time make no sense at all. They love to wrestle and “play rough” with Dad. They still love to cuddle up with Mom. This is the best age so far.

That may look like a broken cardboard box and empty wrapping paper roll, but it's actually a submarine looking for sea monsters

      That may look like a broken cardboard box and empty wrapping paper roll, but it’s actually a submarine looking for sea monsters

And since it was Connor’s birthday this week, let me tell you a little about the big kid he is. Connor has a very tender heart. He is as likely to get mad about something as he is to just have his feelings hurt and then the tears come. He is fiercely protective of his brother and although they fight and argue, you had better not be mean to his brother (a lesson he taught another kid last week). He loves animals and wants to help them and knows so much more about animals than I do, but they also make him VERY nervous in real life (even the baby deer and goats at the petting zoo).

He is willing to give in and let someone else pick or go first, however he always qualifies it with, “But I get to go next” because he wants to make sure he gets his turn. Connor is a deal maker. And once he has decided on what the deal should be, he just goes with it. It doesn’t really matter if you have agreed or not.

For his birthday, Connor got all the dinos

     For his birthday, Connor got all the dinos

 

So far, big kids are the best. Happy Birthday, Connor.

It Doesn’t Feel Like Christmas Yet

king become baby

I’m in a strange place this year. We are one week from Christmas, and it just doesn’t feel like Christmas to me. I’m not sure why it doesn’t feel like Christmas time. This is truly one of my favorite times of year. I love the lights and the tree and the songs and the snow. I love THE Christmas story. The story of Jesus’s birth is the beginning to the greatest gift creation has ever been given. We get cards in the mail, and I make cookies and wrap presents. And I love it all.

This year is just different. Maybe part of it is the weather. It has been unseasonable warm this December. In fact last weekend it was in the 60s. I live in a place that is supposed to have a white Christmas. I want that foot of snow on the ground and snowflakes to fly Christmas Eve. (Last I heard they were calling for rain on Christmas Eve with a slim chance of snow on Christmas Day.)

As for the tree, we had it up early this year. We have never had a tree up before the middle of December, but this year we got it the last weekend in November. And then that sucker fell over completely decorated and broke our ornaments and lights not once but twice. Finally yesterday we got it decorated for the third time. I’ve told everyone that if it falls over again, I’m tossing it out the front door.

I have the most lovely nativity scene. I think it was Tuesday this week when I finally got it out. The boys and I drew and painted leaves to cut out and tape into a paper wreath to hang on our front door. The papers are still in a stack waiting to be cut out. There is a Charlie Brown and a Veggie Tales nativity set around here somewhere that haven’t been put up.

As for wrapping presents, well, we will need to buy them first. Christmas is one week away and we have exactly 1 gift for each of the boys. And it’s not that we go crazy with gifts piled a mile high, but just one under the tree with make for two very disappointed little boys Christmas morning. Someone really should start thinking about (and actually doing) our Christmas shopping.

What about that Christmas picture of the boys in front of the tree I like to take every year? I guess I did take one last weekend but it was just because that’s where they were standing when I took their picture and the tree only had lights on part of it because we hadn’t redecorated it yet.

And maybe I’m not the only one feeling this way this year. We don’t send out Christmas cards. Every year I think about it and then just never get it done. But even though we don’t send them, we always get a few. So far this December we have gotten exactly zero Christmas cards. And the boys love to look at all the Christmas lights on the houses when we are out driving around. It seems like there are just less lights up this year.

The boys did finally get to see Santa last weekend after missing all of the other opportunities we normally have in December with everything that’s been going on.

cameron and santa connor and santa

Thanks, Misti for the awesome photos! It was a great time and a great Santa, but it was also in the 60s and the boys didn’t even wear coats that day.

And the boys are just the exact opposite of where I am. They are so excited. They ask every day if it’s Christmas Eve. The saw Santa and made their lists. They talk about Jesus and His birth. They play with the nativity. Sunday they are in a program at church. They loved Piney (the Christmas tree) even when only half her lights worked and she had no decorations.

I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way this year. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s missing Grandpa. Maybe it’s because I had been picturing this Christmas looking a lot different than it does this year. I’m just not having that excitement that I normally feel especially by this time every year. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas yet.

I’m sure over the next few days the boys’ excitement will rub off on me, and it will finally start to feel like Christmas. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas yet.

That Busy Time of Year

Like most people, it feels as if we are just insanely busy this time of year. And this year, it feels much more overwhelming than it has in years past. At night when I finally get things wrapped up and get in bed to go to sleep, I remember that I was going to blog that day but I never got to it. In fact, I normally blog from our desktop because it’s easier for me than using our tablets. For Thanksgiving, our desktop was unhooked and placed in a corner out of the way. Today, I finally got it hooked back up.

Besides family get-togethers, company Christmas parties, Christmas shopping, visits to Santa, and all the regular every day things, these past few weeks have been so stressful. Shortly before Thanksgiving, Cameron had a cavity that became abscessed.  After treating the infection, he had to have the tooth pulled. He was an absolute rock star with how he handled all of it. And apparently, he doesn’t get his teeth from me because, where I’ve never had a cavity, before Christmas, Cameron has four additional teeth that are going to need fillings or crowns.

In case that’s not enough going on in our lives, for Thanksgiving, Connor got the flu. That annoying flu morphed into Bronchiolitis in Connor. By Sunday night, he was taking short, fast breaths and trying to take a deep breath would make him cough so he and I headed to the Emergency Room. After 2 hours in the ER waiting room, we finally got to see a nurse. Connor’s oxygen level was at 55. It’s amazing how fast they can get a doctor in to see you when your level is that low.

Connor got some steroids, a breathing treatment and a chest x-ray. He thought it was all great fun. I was functioning mostly on panic. After another 2 hours, we finally got to leave the hospital with a nebulizer, 2 prescriptions and instructions that if his breathing got worse or he started breathing like that again, I was to bring him straight back to the ER.

IMG_0933

The next day, not only was Connor sick, but Cameron and I had both caught the flu, too. Thankfully, neither of us had issues breathing, but we were all in sad shape.

What? That’s not enough fun? Well, there is more. While we were all sick, my husband had the one work trip he takes a year so there was no backup at home. (Thankfully he didn’t leave for the trip until after the ER visit.) We also got our Christmas tree that weekend.

IMG_0931

It is much bigger than the trees we’ve gotten in the past, but the boys love it and have named it Piney. Piney drops more needles than our last 2 trees did the entire time we had them up combined. And apparently Piney isn’t very happy about where she is sitting, or maybe it’s just really tiring being a Christmas tree because she’s fallen over twice. Let me tell you, the idea of having to decorate that tree a third time makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Oh, did I mention that last year we made glass ornaments and all but one shattered the first time Piney fell over?

So that’s where we are right now. Mostly well finally but also very overwhelmed.

I did noticed today that over the last week or so there has been a lot of visits to the Hope For the Holidays post from last year. I actually meant to talk about that a couple weeks ago (and then all the above happened). MODG, the blogger who started WANA, which Hope For the Holidays was based off of is back to blogging. She is hosting WANA again this year and I have decided that I just don’t have the strength to host a similar event. I would ask any of you who are looking to help someone in need to check out this years WANA. Any of you looking for help this year, please post your stories over there. (Fair warning, they use a lot more colorful language over at MODGblog.com than I use here.) You can find the post for WANA here.

I wish I felt I could do it again this year. I wish I could help everyone who needs help this year.

Now you guys are mostly caught up on where we are. I am hoping after the first of the year to be back with posts more than once a month or so. No matter what happens, 2016 is going to be an exciting year. I have lots of strong opinions on everything going on in the world that I would like to share. Hopefully, you guys will continue to stick around even when I’m not posting very often. I know I’ve lost some readers, as happens when you don’t have new content consistently. Thank you to everyone who’s hung around for 2015. It’s been one of those years.

Here is a special treat. Cameron wrote a song about Grandpa John today and had me video him singing it. He wanted to play guitar while he sang, but his guitar is broken and hasn’t been replaced yet (and he doesn’t actually know how to play the guitar). He is using a plastic wagon handle as a guitar. And a special thanks to Grandma for the lovely glasses she gave him yesterday that he needed to wear to make his look complete. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

 

This season I’m thankful for God’s perfect timing

We are two days away from Thanksgiving and over two months since my last post. This has been a rough year. I haven’t been writing nearly as much as I would like. There has been so much going on and so many thoughts and feelings that I’ve wanted to write down, but when I sit at the computer they seem too personal and private to share with the whole world. I actually did sit down one day and write a long post about how the boys have been dealing with the grieving process since Grandpa died. I got all the way to the end and then hit save instead of publish.

Emotions run high and low and, although I know Grandma would never tell me to censor the words I use here, I didn’t want to be responsible for more low emotions. So I write out long posts in my head and save them for a day when everything isn’t as close to the surface. It’s not that we will ever be “over” Grandpa’s death, but someday November will come and we won’t just sit around for days crying. You see, November 14th was Grandpa’s birthday, and yesterday Grandma and Grandpa would have celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary.

If all of that doesn’t make me emotional enough, I got some extremely disappointing and confusing news yesterday. We were in the middle of something big. It felt so right and like God had led us to this place in this time and all of the many, many pieces were falling into place at just the right moments. It was so close we could feel it. And it felt so right and we could all imagine just exactly how it was going to be. And then yesterday we got the news that it probably, most likely is not going to happen.

It was one of those punch you in the stomach, can’t believe what you’ve just been told, what do we do now, moments. And, yes, there is a very, VERY slim chance that all the pieces line back up and our plan continues, but that is just so very unlikely at this point.

And it just leaves us all confused. What do we do now? What we were moving towards had been prayed over day after day after day, by not just those directly involved but others who prayed that God would show us the right way. And we all prayed that if we were moving in the wrong direction that God would stop us and not let us get there. But if we were moving in the wrong direction, why did God let us get so far? Why did he answer the first, second, third, fourth steps with yes just to give us a no about 6 hours before the last step?

And with all these things adding up, it’s hard to remember to be thankful for what we do have. And then I remember that God has perfect timing. And for reasons that I can’t see today, these things were supposed to happen in this order at this time. I can even trace the decisions and steps made back to when Grandpa first got sick, if not before. There is a big plan and smaller plans happening all around us that we can not see, and that we may never see.

I believe that someday (hopefully in the near future but maybe not), I will understand why we took the steps that we have taken and why we were stopped in this spot at this time.

This Thanksgiving I have so much to be thankful for. I have an amazing family, a fantastic husband that I can not imagine life without, 2crazylittleboys that bring me such overwhelming joy, a God that loves me so much He was willing to die for me, a roof over my head and food on my table. I have a warm bed to sleep in. I have been blessed with so much.

And this week as we work to make sense of what’s happened, I’m going to remember to be thankful for my God who stopped us from making a decision that could have harmed us all. Instead of focusing of what could have been and what I wanted, I’m going to remember that this is what we prayed for. Apparently we were on the wrong path, and now we are waiting for God to point us the in the next direction we should go.

From my family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving. May God bless you with fun and food and family (and football!).

Memories To Be Treasured

I am patriotic. I love my God, my family and my country. And although there are some days when things happening make it hard to recognize my country, I still love it. I am extremely proud of our military men and women who give themselves every day to keep us safe and free. And maybe I’m a little bias, but there is this one soldier that I believe is the best.

One week after Grandpa died, my brother graduated from the army’s flight school. He officially flies helicopters for the United States Army. And to say that I am proud of him is a complete understatement of my feelings. We are all so proud of the things my brother is doing.

Throughout the summer as Grandpa’s health was declining and my brother’s graduation was approaching, as a family we started discussing what would need to happen so my parents could be at the graduation. It was an important milestone in his military career and important to everyone that my parents be there. Had life turned out differently, my grandparents would have been planning on being at the graduation as well.

My mom had been at every graduation ceremony since my brother enlisted. We were there when he graduated from boot camp. We were there when he deployed to Iraq. There was no way she was going to miss this one.

It was so hard as we were figuring out who would stay where and who would do what to help with Grandpa. And then in God’s infinite wisdom and timing, Grandpa died one week before the graduation and just days before mom and dad would have left to be at the ceremony.

The day after Grandpa died, my mom, grandma, aunt and I were all sitting around Grandma’s table talking about the coming days’ and it was brought up that Grandma should go with my parents to the graduation. There was some back and forth, but why wouldn’t she go? Well, one night there was a military ball. Not to worry, my brother said that if it was too late to get Grandma a meal at the ball that he would gladly give her his. She didn’t want to go alone? No problem. My brother got her a date. Maybe my brother wouldn’t want her there? Are you kidding? He had her a date and a meal before she had said the final yes that she would go.

I’m so glad that she went. I’m glad that she got to be there. And I know that Grandpa would have wanted her to go and be there with my brother.

What happened over the next few days says so much about the military and how they truly are a family. When my brother went in to pay for Grandma’s meal for the ball, as he had for our parents, he was told not to worry about it. His unit had paid for it. And although there were other grandparents at the graduation, our grandma was the only one the unit had purchased a bouquet of flowers for.

And when my brother said he needed an escort for his grandma to the ball, he had no problems finding one.

grandma and date

Grandma was asked to help my sister-in-law pin my brothers wings on his uniform.

grandma pinning justin

grandma kissing justin

after pinning

And if you look in the background of those last three pictures, you will notice that all the commanding officers were watching my brother and Grandma. I love the smiles on the commanding officers’ faces. You can tell that it meant something to them as it did to us.

On more than one occasion, people came up to Grandma and told her how sorry they were for her loss. It was obvious that they knew how important Grandpa was to my brother and how important my brother is to them.

everyone heli

The memories made that week are some that will never be forgotten and always be treasured. The honor, respect, love and compassion given, not because of anything we did, but because of how much Grandpa meant to my brother is something that even those of us who weren’t able to be there will remember.