Joy in the Journey

Unpacking Christmas

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It is the beginning of December and that means the annual frenzy to get the house ready for the season.

Right now, it looks like Christmas threw up.  Not a pretty sight.  Boxes are strewn everywhere.  There is foam and fake pine needles all over the floor, and half-done shopping lists and baking lists cover the counter.  You can barely move without having to shift something else first.  I rush around, doing one thing, until I spy another that needs to be done just as much, and stop and tackle that.  The boys try to be helpful where they can, but they don’t think like me (imagine that).  (Actually, that is a great blessing.)

Currently I am unpacking the boxes of ornaments for the “family” tree.

And in this activity, I get my first Christmas miracle.

This is the tree of memories.  I have the pretty tree in the living room, but this tree holds my heart.

I unpack ornaments that graced my tree as a child:  a knitted stocking Mom made, needlepoint I did, wooden Santas as old as the hills that may have even come from Mom’s tree growing up, my grandmother’s Hallmark carousel ornaments.  I praise God that I grew up in the family that I did, with love and joy all around, and with Christmas memories that still bring me to tears.

I unpack the first Christmas ornaments that my mom so lovingly picked out for me and Keith, and Christmas ornaments that we got for our wedding from the Huffs and the Fontaines.  I praise God for a loving husband.  Even though he went home to Glory early, I would not have traded one moment with him.

I unpack the ornaments made by the boys over the years.  Some are crude and falling apart, but they make me smile.  I praise God for loving children, who love God, and who love me, despite my cranky days.

I unpack ornaments that Shari and Julie helped my boys to make a year after Keith died, the presents they gave me that year.  I praise God for friends who care enough to make my Christmas special.

I unpack a bell from Becky’s wedding, and bluebirds from Courtney’s, favors that have graced my tree since those blessed events.  I think back to the beautiful brides they were and praise God for their marriages and their children.

And then I find it.  It doesn’t look like much, but to me, it is priceless.  Aunt Hilda gave my sister and me each one…can’t even remember when.  It is about 1″ x 1/2″ x 2″…Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in a little glass box.  From the time I was little, I just knew looking at this ornament that it was real…He had been here as a baby, and a man, for me.

And that is the greatest miracle of all.

I pray that this moment can stay fresh in my mind through this entire Christmas season.

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.  – John 3:16

Paving Stones

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We have a group of widows (and a few widowers) who meet together a couple times a month for support.

This group has been invaluable in my life for healing…and to create a sense of normalcy.

Right after Keith died, God was gracious enough to give me 5…yes 5…new friends who were widows.  I met these ladies in a variety of ways:  friend of friend, new nurse at the doctor’s office, chance encounters.  Meeting with them was wonderful in those first months of loneliness, pain, confusion, etc., etc., etc.  They had only a few things in common:  the Lord, me, and the 300-lb gorilla of widowhood.

Realizing what a joy this is…and being of a sort of Julie-the-Cruise-Director mentality, I organized them to start meeting together.  Our times are mostly fellowship, but it is fellowship without the awkwardness.  We get each other.

All of us have in our lives dear friends and family who want so badly to help, but are just not sure what to say, how to say it, how to be supportive.  They are not sure how to deal with us on this grief path.  And they have no idea how to lead us.

Sometimes you can almost see their inner turmoil.  Do I laugh at the jokes?  Will there be tears?  What is the proper response both she…and I…should make here?  What if she wants to talk about sex or dating?

It would be funny if it weren’t so painful–for all involved.

Our group is called Travelers on a Different Journey.  We did not choose to be here, but we rest in God to get us through, trust in Him for all things, and lean on each other to guide the way.  The fellowship in the Lord is sweet, the people sweeter.  We have around 25 involved in the ministry.

My sweet friend Theresa, widowed 14 months before me, puts it this way, “I may not be able to pave a smooth road for you, but I can tell you where the potholes are so you can avoid them, or at least slow down.”

And this group works!

It is never more evident than on a light like last night.

We met for dinner at PF Changs (yum!).  One of the gals brought a friend, Wanda, who was widowed not quite a year ago who had not yet met the group of us.

Well, Wanda fit right in!  We gained a sister, and she gained a group of them.  I know that my journey will be a little sweeter for my association with her, and pray that hers will be as well by association with us.

Life is hard.  Sometimes it is harder.  But God is good and He is there every step of the way, to provide paving stones to smooth our path.

I am so thankful for my pavers!!

I pray you see the pavers He has provided along your journey.

And of course, that you know and trust the ultimate Paving Stone…Jesus Christ! 
I will give You thanks, for You answered me; You have become my salvation.  The stone the builders rejected has become the Cornerstone; the Lord has done this,and it is marvelous in our eyes. 
— Psalm 118:21-23

Testimony Today

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I gave a testimony at our church this morning:

Testimony 11-11-12
            Today, I am grateful for many things.
            First of all, today is Veteran’s Day, a day dedicated to those brave enough, devoted enough, to be willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of others.  I praise God for the men and women willing to be of service to their country, regardless of the cost.  There are many veterans in this room.  Thank you for your service to this great country of ours.
            Today is also my 17th wedding anniversary.  Two days ago, Friday, was the 5th anniversary of Keith’s graduation to Glory.
            Today, for me, is bittersweet…but mostly sweet.
            It is in this loss that our family has really learned to be grateful.
            I have much to be grateful for in having been married to such a wonderful, Godly husband.  His Christian example has helped to make the boys and me into the people we are today, and his dedication to Christ and Christian principles have allowed us to go on without him…and even to thrive.
            I look around this congregation and see much to be grateful for as well.
            Several of you were there on the day Keith and I married.  You have been with us since the beginning, welcoming each of our boys in succession, watching us grow and change with each passing year.
            I see even more who have been there every step of the way since Keith’s death.
            In these past five years, the boys and I have confidently, consistently, completely felt your support and love.
            Whether it was Mother’s Day or birthday gifts, home and car repairs, or support for the boys as they become men, this congregation has listened to the Holy Spirit’s prompting and helped out my family.
            That’s what community is supposed to be…the church as described in Acts.
            I can never fully express what that means to me…and to them.
            Mostly, though, on this day I am grateful to a God who loves me in spite of my failings with a passion that I learn more of each day.  He holds me in the palm of His hand…and He always will.  He loves me enough to hone the rough edges…and to make glory out of my ashes.  He quite literally floors me with His love.
            I am thankful that in my grief and sorrow, He has not left me but instead has allowed me to grow ever closer to Him, being my Husband in a new and special way.
            I have learned many lessons over the past 5 years.  Some of them have been painful; some of them have been very painful.  But the most important lesson my family and I have learned is that God is always there.  On the good days, on the bad days, in the middle of the night, on the road trips, as the boys grow.  Always.
            And I am grateful.  So, so grateful.

Five Years…Wow!

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Five years ago today, my beloved husband journeyed on to Glory.

So much has changed in that time…yet so much has stayed the same.

When Keith died:

  • there were no IPads and the IPhone was brand new
  • we had not had an African American president
  • Osama Bin Laden was still at large
  • Haiti had not been severely damaged by an earthquake and Japan had not suffered a tsunami
  • we had not suffered a good-sized earthquake in Northern Virginia
  • Kosovo had not declared itself an independent country and been recognized as such
  • Facebook, Twitter, and blogs were not commonly used by everyone and did not provide a major vehicle for communication
  • the housing market was slipping but had not crashed

In our own family:

  • I was still taller than all of my children
  • we did not have a dog at all, much less two
  • Jackson and Tanner could not read
  • Alex did not play guitar and had no interest in being in the praise band
  • we were not out for much of anything past 7:30 at night
  • I did not get up at 5:00 to spend precious quiet time with Jesus every morning
  • we did not have company at every holiday, and any time we could think of an occasion to have people over

Yet so many things have stayed the same:

  • I am blessed and  privileged to still be able to homeschool my boys
  • I live in the same home, the dream home Keith so lovingly painted with all 17 paint colors I wanted
  • I have friends who have stuck by me for these five years, taking care of me and the boys, from the moment Keith died until now
  • Our church continues to be a home and a haven, blessing us and allowing us to bless them
  • God is still God – in His heaven, in control, in my corner, in my life…each and every day, and in each and every situation
  • I am His beloved daughter and by His grace I can stand – each and every day

And because of these blessings…because of this God and His love for little old me, I can have survived these five years.

And, by His grace, I will survive many more. 

As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise You more and more.  My mouth will tell of Your righteous deeds, of Your saving acts all day long—though I know not how to relate them all. — Psalm 71:14-15

Like Glue

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Another lesson on perspective yesterday.  (Note to self:  all of life is really a lesson in perspective.)

I walked a few minutes later than I normally do and therefore got to talk to my friend Renee after Joel got on the bus.  Great conversation!  Love getting to know this sweet sister in Christ!

Before our conversation ended, Carol and the other Renee came up as well.  I got to introduce these precious women to each other (yay!)…and to invite Renee to our Bible study (here were walking examples in Carol and the other Renee of the ladies in our group)!

God is so gracious!

Before Keith died, this Martha-to-the-max probably would not have taken the time to get to know any of these women.  I would have been too focused on my schedule, my kids, my life.

Not on the greater community.

Now, none of my prior focuses were bad.  In fact, God gave me charge of those things to steward.  They were, and are, my primary responsibility.

But the world has gotten smaller and bigger at the same time since Keith died.  I can and should do more.

I see another call on my life…being glue.

I met Carol and the first Renee simply by walking.  We have lived just a couple blocks from each other for years, but met because of speaking to each other while walking.  I gained acquaintanceship with two sisters in Christ!

Now, due to walking (and my big mouth), they now know each other.  The community grows!

Christ had twelve intimates, but I don’t see any evidence that He ever turned down getting to know another person.

I praise God that we can grow in community in the same way…simply by walking and being open to the people we meet along the way!

And this is love:  that we walk in obedience to His commands. As you have heard from the beginning, His command is that you walk in love. — 2 John 1:6

A Matter of Perspective

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The end of last week, the deputy who lives in our neighborhood stopped to tell us that, really, we should be walking on the other side of the street, against the traffic.  Today was the first day I tried it.

It is amazing what a difference ten or fifteen feet makes!

Hmm, that birds’ egg blue trim is brighter than I thought it was.

Wow!  Those flower beds really look great!

Yuck!  That pothole sure is deep.

I saw new things, spoke to new people, on the “other” side.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

Isn’t all life like that…a matter of perspective?

Sometimes I need to look at things more closely to see what is really going on.

Why did he hit is brother?  Was it a ploy for attention…or some deeper issue?

Why am I feeling so out-of-sorts?  Do I need to take more me-time?

A new perspective can make a world of difference in the way I view my circumstances.  The things that bug me become small potatoes; the things I need to put more attention into come into focus.

All depending on how I look at them.

And the best perspective of all is…on my knees.

My days can be fraught with stress and confusion…and I have no human sounding board to help put me back into perspective.  That is when…especially…I need to turn to God to give me the perspective I need.  His is always perfect.

And I learned something else as well today.

Walking in this new way this morning, I had to keep reminding myself to cross the street.  I had to be diligent to avoid the old patterns.  I had to keep focusing on what was new and different, what new things I was seeing instead of the familiar, the old way.

How like me in my walk as well!  Keeping my eyes focused on the positive…on my Savior…makes all the difference.

 Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming. — 1 Peter 1:13

Walking Buddies

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I am the analogy girl.  I see analogies in everything in life.  You may have guessed that.

Many of them lately come from my daily walks around the neighborhood.  Somehow it always relates to my “daily walk.”

That’s really pretty awesome, when you think about it.

I have some great walking buddies–two regulars and a sometimes addition.  Each of these precious women adds much to my life.  We have a great time walking and talking…often talking about heart-and-soul matters, sometimes praying together.

They are a tremendous blessing from God–all three of them.

Some days, though, the circumstances and busy-ness of life has me walking alone.

It is not bad to walk alone.  I am often quiet, listening to God.  And looking…always looking…for Him to speak through His creation to this analogy girl.

A morning last week was beautiful and balmy, with a breeze blowing (I also like alliteration).  I walked along, greeting the day and the others I normally see on the way (it’s amazing how quickly we have fallen into the pattern of being part of the morning in our neighborhood).

I listened to the birds and felt the wind in my face…and talked to my Father.

Much of my lifewalk is a parallel to my 2.5 morning miles.

Sometimes I walk in community, and sometimes I face things without an earthy companion.  (Well, always without my favorite earthly companion…nearly 5 years now.)  Regardless, God walks by my side, guiding my steps, listening to my diatribes and my praises, supporting me and correcting me as I need it.

I am thankful for all my walking buddies–the morning ladies…and all who have made this widow walk so much easier.  I am thankful for the beautiful fall days, my neighborhood, my freedom.  I am thankful for God’s constant intervention in my soul to point out the good in my world…and to cleanse the yucky parts to shining white.

My morning walk is uphill in places, just as is my lifewalk.  Regardless, I know I am never truly alone, never facing things alone, regardless of the circumstances.

And that is a lot to be thankful for.

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.  — Psalm 68:19

Of Course I Will!

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My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

It has been one of those days.

I woke up with a headache.  I cried at the breakfast table because I felt unappreciated by my children.  I cried on my walk because Keith was not here.  He (usually) knew how to make me feel better when I was in one of these moods.

I walked along, tears flowing…whining to God (gotta be honest here).

I knew I was about to reach where Renee stands in the morning, waiting for the school bus with her charge.  I met Renee walking but found out she attends the same Wednesday night service I do.  I dried my tears and smiled.

“Good morning, Renee!”

“Hi, Liz.  How are you this morning?”

“Fine, thanks!  How about you?”

“Good, thanks.”

“Great!  Have a good day!”

And I walked a few more steps.

Then God spoke to me in my spirit.  Nope.  Own in.  Go back.  Tell her.

So, swallowing my pride, I broke stride from my walking and went back.

“Actually, that’s not entirely true.  I am having one of those mornings.  Will you please pray for me?”

With a big hug, Renee said, “Bless your heart!  Of course I will!”

And I walked on, feeling better.  Provision!

I could now hear the birds singing.  I even found a quarter…that will go in the missions box the boys and I are currently filling.  I smiled at the others I normally see and speak to on my walk.  My world had tilted back in the right direction.

My morning was just some of life’s “light and momentary troubles” (2 Corinthians 4:17).  They happen to us all.  Jesus promised they would.

I am thankful for a God who is gracious enough to put people in my path (literally) for the times when I need them.  And I am thankful that He knows I sometimes need that extra little push to take what He has so graciously given to me.  Sometimes, it is just a matter of me looking beyond myself  As I reflected on this, I could see many blessings in my life, things that had been hidden from me as my thoughts circled myself instead of the bigger picture.

At the end of my walk today, I ran into my sometimes-walking-buddie Carol.  We greeted each other and she asked how I was.  And I could honestly tell her that I am doing…OK.

Praise God!

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.  — John 16:33

Crows vs. Hawks

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On my daily walk the other day, I heard…long before I saw…a murder of crows harassing a hawk.  (Yes, I looked that up.  That is what you call them.  Word lesson for today completed.)

Oh, they were really giving it to him–circling round and round, cawing away.  He gave them  a couple of shrill cries in return, but they were really dominating.

As I watched the exchange, I realized that I could see myself in that scene.  And sometimes I am the crows…and sometimes I am the hawk.

I can be a fuss-er.  I sometimes get focused on something and worry it to pieces.  Whether it is finances, or boy behavior, or the cleanliness of my house (or lack thereof), I get hold of an idea and won’t let go.  Like the crows, I fuss and fume.  I try to bully the ideas, pushing and shoving them into what I think they should look like. I continue the harassment, regardless of the facts, and God’s plan…seeing threats where there probably aren’t any.  Sometimes I even find my own “murder” to fuss with me.

Sometimes, however, in my better moments, I’d like to think I am the hawk.

Sometimes I doggedly maintain my God-directed course, taking the attacks as they come, and maintaining my place in the sky, like this hawk was.  I don’t see the harassment and obstacles–whatever form they may take–but stay the course.  When the opportunity presents itself, I, like the hawk, cry out my side of the story, but from a position of calm statement, not from a position of stressed excitement.  This hawk calmly held his position, and so do I–or at least I try.

So why am I not able to be more hawk-like all the time?  Why do I take that drift toward the stressful group-think of a murder of crows, seeing threats everywhere, real and imagined?

Usually it is because I have taken my eyes off the Ruler of the Skies…if I may be so bold as to give Him a name like that.

I get freaked out and stirred up when I don’t spend enough time with the Lord…in prayer, reading His Word, seeing things from His perspective.

I also get in a tizzy when I choose to be around the “murder” instead of alone with the Lord.  Oh, I am not discounting the value of good friends…not by any means!  But we all need to be careful of miserable comforters.  Time alone with the Lord can get me soaring again instead of squawking.

May I find those moments today!

Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary. — Isaiah 40:31-32 (NASB)

A Tale of Two Gifts

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This week I got two precious gifts of flowers.

My sweet friend Shari, knowing that Keith’s birthday had just passed, and knowing that gifts are my love language, sent a wonderful dozen multicolored roses. They grace my kitchen counter in their full array, seeming to burst further open each day, yet staying fresh and lovely.  As I looked this morning, their centers are actually starting to show, they have opened so far…yet not a petal has fallen.  They are some of the prettiest roses I have ever received.  They make me smile just looking at them.

The other gift was much different…but equally as sweet.  A four-year old girl came with her mom for the first time to Bible study.  As she left her house, she picked a clover from her front yard, and told her mom she wanted to take it to “Mrs. Liz.”  When she arrived, she shyly presented me with her gift, and we found a vase to put it on my kitchen counter.  This sweet little clover is one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.

It seems to be a week for me to receive gifts…and God has been no exception.

I have been studying the gift of manna to the Israelites this week, and this gift has a special meaning to me.

God’s provision and His grace floor me…quite literally.

A few weeks after Keith died, a woman called me to come do a security investigation on one of my neighbors for his new government-related job.  This is a pretty routine thing in our area.  As we were talking about my neighbor and the family, I talked about how they had been assisting me since Keith had died, which I found to be a strong indicator of their character and beliefs.

The woman asked me if I was a believer and we started talking about things that were a lot more important than Chris’s security clearance.

She told me the story of her church, which had been going through a really rough time and had lost a couple young members of the congregation.  Her preacher had preached on manna as part of his messages of healing, and about God’s grace wrapped up in that manna each morning.

For the Israelites, there was always enough manna for each morning.  Whether they collected a little or a lot, when they measured the amount, it was always enough to meet their needs.  Not extra, not some to save for tomorrow, but always enough.  As long as they tried, it was enough.

As a result of our conversation…and her promise to pray for me, I am sure…I started mentally picking up my manna for the day each morning as I nursed baby Tanner.

And I got by.

More than that…we continued to thrive as a family.  The manna was enough.

I get asked all the time, “How do you do it?”

The answer is daily reliance on my Savior.  In my own strength I cannot do this.  Not for a day.  Not for an hour.  Probably not for a minute.

In my own strength, I am short-tempered, sometimes mean, and often whiny.

I do not do this in my own strength.

Every day, I am in nearly constant communication with my Lord…through His Word; through His people; through prayer; through uplifting music; through wise words from books, devotions, and sermons.

And it is enough.

The manna has always, always, always been there.

And I know it always will be.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. – James 1:17