My husband has been gone from this mortal life for 8 years today.  Nine years ago today we first heard the word ‘cancer’ after his first of four brain surgeries to remove the tumor.  We were also told he had, statistically speaking, 13 months to live.  He lived exactly 12 months from that horrible day.

I recently had a widow ask me when it gets easier.  She is nearing the one year mark and her pain is still such a fresh wound.  I wanted to comfort her by saying that the ache of grief will get better in time.  But does it?  Does it ever really get easier?  For me the answer is, No.  It does not get easier, just more familiar.

I still wake up wishing Larry was next to me.  I still go to bed wishing I could hear him snoring.  I still talk to him, tell him about my day and how the kids are doing.  I still know that there is an emptiness in my life that only he could fill.  The ache is still there and it always will be.  It is the silent companion of my every moment.

What has changed is that I no longer feel guilty for laughing.  It’s been quite a few years since I’ve cringed at myself for enjoying life.  That isn’t what Larry would want me to do and it is not honoring to a man who squeezed the most out of life, even when he was sick.  I’m not afraid to make changes, even big ones like moving from the middle of the country to the east coast.  I do still wish that he was here to take care of the details of life that I most definitely don’t like to deal with but I’m still trying.

Larry’s favorite verse was Hebrews 12:1.  He lived by it.  He ran with perseverance, the life God laid out for him.  I’m striving to do the same.

So I guess maybe it does get easier, if only easier to live with.  I’ve learned to make my own shadow albeit a timid one.

Mighty to Save video

Isaiah 61:10 – 12

¹⁰ I delight greatly in the LORD;
my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
¹¹ For as the soil makes the sprout come up
and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the Sovereign LORD will make righteousness
and praise spring up before all nations.

The first medical clinic day was in a remote mountain village.  Remote being a vertical term.  The drive took well over 2 hours, but we traveled less than 40 miles over roads that at times were not even trails.  How the driver knew where to go I will never know.  This was a village that had seen few if any white people.

The first thing I noticed was their clothing.  These people showed up in their very best clothing to stand in line all day to speak to someone about their physical needs.  All of the women wore traditional Mayan garments of hand-woven skirts and hand embroidered blouses.  Even the old women had their hair braided with colorful ribbons.  What were we wearing?  Jeans, t-shirts, sweats.  I wonder what they thought about our clothing?  I wondered then at the level of respect and honor they showed us that we did not show them.  I hadn’t even brought nice clothes along.  I felt so humbled by their attire and what it represented.  I’ve rarely ever seen such beautiful craftsmanship.

Breaking the ice with this village was a bit more difficult than it had been at the village where we’d built the houses.  These villagers had no reason to trust us beyond the words spoken to them by the native employees of the mission base.  It didn’t take too long to coax the children into games of catch, jump rope, frisbee, coloring and nail polish.  I had taken along some yarn and a crochet hook and decided to see what would happen if I sat down and started to crochet.  A simple rosette bracelet took about 5 minutes to work up.  After I got started a couple of grandmas came over to see what I was up to.  When I gave the first one away to one of them I was soon flocked with mammas, grandmas and girls who wanted a bracelet.  I kept working on them until it got too dark to see.  As I was sitting there surrounded by women in beautiful hand crafted clothes, children laughing and chasing the members of the team, Guatemalan men standing around keeping a watchful yet entertained eye on their family members and the beauty of the Guatemalan mountains around us… I couldn’t stop thinking about my grandmother.  Grandma taught me how to crochet when I was 9-years-old.  I wonder if she ever dreamed that I would be sitting in a tiny Guatemalan village crocheting rosette bracelets to show a bit of Jesus’ love.  I doubt it, but I’m sure she was smiling that day!

After the sun went down the movie came out.  The Jesus movie.  For many of them this was the first time they’d ever seen a movie at all.  After the movie Hermanos Jesus got up to preach about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  We didn’t need to understand his words to be touched by his passion for his Savior.  When he gave out the opportunity for Salvation, nearly the entire village came forward to receive this priceless gift.  The energy in that small one room school was even more overwhelming than it had been at the home dedications.  The lights seemed to glow brighter, the tears that gathered in every eye glimmered with the hope of the cross.  Hugs and prayers and smiles and joy.  The mission director told us later that one of them came to him and requested more leadership and discipleship.  God is so amazing.

To Be Continued………

He Knows My Name video

Isaiah 61:7

⁷ Instead of your shame
you will receive a double portion,
and instead of disgrace
you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you will inherit a double portion in your land,
and everlasting joy will be yours.

Today I’m going to back up a bit and fill in some of the details.  Details with names like Heidi, Linda, Henry, Willy, Yenifer, Elder, and Dolce Maria.  Details with smiles, tears, giggles and hands.  Lots of hands.  Hands reaching and holding, leading and helping, praying and preparing.  Hands with arms that hug and hold on.

Heidi is a beautiful 17-year-old wife and mama.  Her 14-month-old son Austin is an adorable little chubba with soft black curls.  The team that Noah and I were on built the home for Heidi and her husband Anabel and their son.  Heidi was somewhat shy, but determined to help out however she could with her new home.  She was often working with one hand while holding Austin on her hip.  Heidi’s joy and gentle pride in her new home was far greater than my joy in my new home.  We were blessed and privileged to be a part of their lives and kneel with them as the committed their lives to Jesus Christ in a moment so powerful that I cannot even begin to find the words for it.  Heidi was as much a gift to us as we were to her.

You can see a picture of Heidi, Anabel and Austin in yesterday’s post.

Linda is my little scarf.  Her favorite place was in my arms with her arms wrapped around my neck and her head on my shoulder.  Her sweet whispers for “dolce” or sweets were more often rewarded with a kiss on her cheek than actual candy.  Mostly because as soon as one child had a piece of candy you were swarmed by the rest of the children in the village and the candy was soon gone.  We each had one or two children who we became attached to emotionally.  Linda was mine.  She would come take my hand, regardless of what I was doing, and pull me somewhere in the village to show me what I could not understand.  The love and trust that Linda poured into me during those few days were a gift beyond measure.  Linda’s family had already received their house and they never missed a discipleship meeting.  When we gathered around to pray for the houses little Linda was right beside me with her hands on the houses as well.  A tiny little wisp of a girl with more power in her simple prayers than the rest of us put together.

Henry, oh Henry!  Henry is a deaf and mute little boy that the mission nurse has unofficially adopted.  He was cast aside by the village and Erin was told not to bother with him because he was nothing.  Erin is now referred to as his “white mama”.  For someone who can’t speak, Henry made sure that he was well known by all of us.  He has no trouble communicating what he wants.  Henry loves to draw.  He will cover every tiny space on the small pieces of paper he can find with pictures and tug at your hand to show you his artistry.  I would not be surprised at all if I see Henry’s artwork on display in museums one day.  He is quite a gifted artist.

Willy is an adorable little boy with a huge smile and ginormous sweet tooth.  I don’t really know any details about Willy’s life, I just know Willy.  Everyone knew Willy and Willy made sure that he made each of us smile.  Willy was Noah’s favorite while we were there.  He loved playing with Willy.

Yenifer is absolutely beautiful!  She is maybe three years old at most.  Beautiful eyes the color of chocolate pudding.  A smile that would light up your soul.  Soft black hair that always seemed to be attempting to caress her kissable cheeks.  The first two days anyone could pick Yenifer up and carry her around.  She giggled and hugged freely.  The third day Yenifer was fine as long as none of us picked her up.  As soon as one of us tried she would start to cry very loudly.  The common remark when holding Yenifer was that we all wanted to take her home with us.  Somehow that remark had been translated to Yenifer and she was suddenly terrified that we were going to take her away from her family.  We all felt terrible.  She had been so full of joy until she felt threatened.  These children were all full of joy at the simplest things that we never think twice about.   Seeing themselves on our cameras was something they never tired of.   If we had been able to bring them home with us we would destroy them.  In our desire to give them the world we would remove from them their contagious joy and replace it with the same restless boredom that our own children have.  Thank God we could not bring Yenfier home with us.  Her light needs to shine!

Elder is a 19-year-old young man who should be strong and vibrant.  His body has been so invaded by the parasites present in the water supply that his kidneys are shutting down and he can no longer even walk.  Elder’s family was one of the four families that our teams built houses for.   For Elder this new home was amazing.  He could now see during the daylight hours and there would be the possibility of a cross breeze to cool his feverish body with the window and door on their new house.  There was a tangible energy surrounding the house when the team was inside as the Gospel was presented, almost as if the house itself were preparing to receive Jesus Christ.  The team members who were in with the family had tears in their eyes as they described Elder’s hands reaching for heaven to receive the love of the Savior.  This was the final dedication of homes and at the end we all packed in to the room as much as we could to pray for Elder and his family, all of them now our family as well; adopted children of the one true God.

Dolce Maria….. Sweet Marie.  While we were in Guatemala the orphanage that is attached to the mission base received a new guest in the form of a 2 week old premie baby girl.  I’ve seen baby dolls that were bigger than Dolce.  If she had been born in the U.S. she would still be in an incubator in a hospital until she weighed enough to bring her home.  This sweet baby is blessed beyond what she will ever know.  She is in the care of loving, committed Christians who will raise her in a veritable castle.  The conditions at the base are so far beyond what she would have experienced had she not been brought here.  Holding the little peanut was a nightly competition. 🙂

These are but a few of the “details” of the trip.  I cannot sufficiently express the gifts I received …. in the details.

To Be Continued…….

The rhythm of life.  We each have our own beat to this dance called living.  Some of us are a waltz, others a cha-cha-cha.  Still others dance to a syncopated beat that no one else can quite catch on to.  The beat will change many times, flowing with the changing seasons of our life.  No matter what season you’re in or even if you’ve asked the drummer to stop, the beat goes on.  Life does not stop just because we have no desire to continue the dance.  The beat will go on, day after day, year after year.

This has been a season of change for me.  Not unwelcome change at all, but changes that must come as the beat continues.  Changes that remind me yet again that I am physically alone.

May 14 was a very special day of change.  My oldest son graduated from Liberty University in Lynchburg, VA.  My husband’s parents tagged along as Noah and I drove the 15 hour trip from Michigan to Lynchburg.  This trip was not a comfortable one for me, I’m not used to being the person in charge of the trip.  That’s Larry’s job.  We got there safely in spite of the torrential rain, car rattling thunder and lightning that made you flinch when we were in southern Ohio.  We found the hotel, we found Drew, we found the stadium where graduation was held.  It was a beautiful day in spite of the nearly constant drizzle that threatened to release the rain.  Liberty had purchased 30,000 rain ponchos to hand out though, so commencement proceeded as planned. What a wonderful day it was.  We found Drew in the lineup and exchanged ear to ear smiles as he walked past us.  Pride threatened to beat a hole in my chest as I watched this handsome young man walk up to receive his diploma.  Pride that co-mingled with an intense sorrow.  Once again I asked God, “Why?”  How is it that I came to be the only parent present on this, the most important day of his life so far?  My heart screamed, “NO!  His Mama and his Dad should be here too!  This isn’t right God, it’s not fair!  He deserves to have all of his parents here to celebrate with him, not just me.  I’m a poor substitute for all that he’s lost in his short 22 years.”  God was silent, he’d heard it all from me before.  Drew followed us home after graduation and one week after he received his diploma, I drove my son to the airport so he could fly to India for the summer.  A small taste of what it will be like when he moves there after graduating from grad school.  Not quite the same as putting him on the bus to go to school.  Change.

June 10 was another very special day of change.  On June 10 my other oldest son (both 22) got married to his beautiful Katie.  After a week of 90+ temps, the wedding day gave way to pouring rain.  All day it rained off and on.  I spent the day getting ready with all of Katie’s bridesmaids and her mother.  Laughter, hair, makeup, a bit of champagne… lots of fun!   I was okay until I put my dress on and couldn’t get the zipper up all the way.  Extreme contortions were required to finish the maneuver.  A moment that always causes me to miss my Larry.  At the chapel I went back to spend a few minutes with my handsome son Wade before the ceremony started.  To say he was nervous would compare to  calling a bald eagle a mosquito.   I wanted so badly to be able to impart some last words of wisdom to him, but all I could think about was the little boy who tentatively called Larry, “dad” the day after we were married.  The boy who grew up with 2 dads, but came to know not long ago that great love made this dad his father.  I was so happy for Wade and Katie, starting their new life together and my heart was breaking, … again.

At the reception there were still more reminders of the incessant beating of the rhythm of life.  The most touching and perhaps the most painful of all were my parents.  It took a lot for my father to get here.  He doesn’t get around too well these days.  Watching these two people whom I love so dearly, I was touched with overwhelming love and heart stabbing jealousy at the same time.  I watched as my mother tenderly raised the champagne glass to my father’s lips so that he could toast the bride and groom. I watched her feed him first before ever touching her own meal.  Jealousy would seem to be a misplaced emotion here.  My mother and father have been married 57 years and this is an achievement that I will never reach.  Larry and I had a goal of 50 years, we made it to 14 1/2  before cancer stole him from me.

Watching my parents brought to mind the changing beat as well.  My mother and father have always loved to dance, and I have always loved to watch them.  They would glide across the floor so effortlessly, as if they were one being.  This is also something that I have never achieved.  Through the years their dance has slowed some, but now that my daddy can only get around with a walker their dancing days are over.  This too caused me moments of sorrow.  These days they dance to the rhythm of doctors’ appointments and rehab.  A pretty slow beat.

Today is Father’s Day.  I’m at home alone with my youngest son.  He’s understandably angry at the calendar for allowing this day to roll around again now that his dad is gone.  He’s kneeling on the couch with all of the dogs, collectively looking out the window for signs of life,  jealous of all the celebrations going on around him.  The beat goes on, even though he’s yelling at the drummer to stop.

Reminds me of one of my favorite Matthew West songs:

“Stop the world I wanna get out, I need an escape away from this crowd just to hear you, talk to me.  Stop the world I’m ready to listen, show me a sign,  just give me vision of heaven, that I can hold on to.  Stop the world I need some time with You.”

The beat does go on, we can not stop it, we can not change the rhythm.  All we can do is learn a new step to work into the dance.  Perhaps one that includes some knee time… away from the crowd… listening to the One who provides the dance.  The One who never allows us to be completely alone.

My daddy always says that you can tell you’re over the hill when you double your age and don’t expect to live that long.  That being said, I’m pretty sure I’m at the top – or maybe just a wee bit over the top – of the hill right now.  I’m 47.  Pretty sure I won’t live longer than 94.  If I don’t get my behind off the couch, I won’t get close.  My husband died at 47.  We didn’t know that he was at the bottom of his hill though.

I’m not sure how I got to the top of the hill.  I sure don’t remember the climb, I’m no good at climbing.  Ask my daddy.  My days of mountain climbing ended the last time I said, “Carry me daddy!” and daddy said, “I can’t pick you up any more, you’re 12.”  He had to walk back down with me and miss the rest of the climb.  He wasn’t happy with me that day.  Needless to say I wasn’t invited to go along after that.  The climb to the top of the “Life Hill” isn’t very steep, I didn’t even break a sweat and that doesn’t take much.  But here I am, at the top and officially MIDDLE AGED.

I don’t feel ‘Middle Aged’.  I don’t feel 18 anymore either.  I was looking at some old photos the other day and ran across some from my High School graduation.  What happened to that optimistic girl with stars in her eyes and the whole world in front of her?  She had such wonderful dreams… she would marry Prince charming, live in a charming cottage, raise loving, adoring children, and live happily ever after… Nothing bad would ever happen to her because those things only happen to other people.

Wrong.  She wasn’t expecting things like divorce, abuse, single parenthood, second marriage, blended family, cancer, widowhood, single parenthood again, money issues… Bad things do happen.  They happen to everyone, not just other people.  But she (I)  have some positives that grew and blossomed out of all those bad things.  A stronger relationship with Jesus Christ, a deep reliance on my heavenly Father, a strength born of surviving experiences, resilience, compassion, mercy, I’m sure there are others that I haven’t even discovered yet.  I know that the road that led me to Larry was necessary to mold me into the woman who was perfect for Larry.  I know that the road I’ve had to travel with Larry’s illness and since his death is necessary to mold me into the woman who is perfect for the purpose that God has for my future.

I’m on the top of the Life-Hill and from where I stand, the view is pretty good from both sides.

Romans 2:3 (The Message)

God is kind, but he’s not soft. In kindness he takes us firmly by the hand and leads us into a radical life-change.