Praising God

A Good Day to Remember

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We are a military family.  We always have been.  We always will be.  No matter what happens.  It is something of which we are very proud.

Keith was buried at Quantico, the Crossroads of the Marine Corps, as per his will.  Each Memorial Day, you can find us there.

It is a good day for remembering.

We remember Keith:  his quirky smile, his annoyed face (the “ferp” face), his infectious laugh.

We also remember bigger things:  that freedom isn’t free, that men and women are in harm’s way even as we barbeque, that others carry burdens as big as ours.

It is a day for the waterproof mascara.

I wish you could see Quantico National Cemetery today.  Four-hundred-plus next-of-kin flags grace the drives, waving proudly, bravely, majestically.  It is a day of pageantry there as we listen to the Marine Corps Band, and Taps and a three-round volley play a tattoo in the hearts of all present.  It is worth every tear.

As we sing God Bless America, I can really see it and know it in my heart.  A little, upstart group of colonists, under-trained and under-prepared, beats the great military power of the day.  It is a story with blessings of Biblical proportions.

God has blessed America.

I pray that we will always remember that and act accordingly.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. — Galatians 5:1

In Praise of Girlfriends

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You know who you are.

Or maybe you don’t…

You’re the one who complimented me on my children’s behavior on the day I felt like a failure as a mother.

You’re the one who called at dinner time nearly nightly to get the debrief of the day.

You’re the one who laughed with me about men and marriage and sex on the days I wanted to cry and wallow in self-pity.

You’re the one who bought the flowers Keith would have bought for our anniversary.

You’re the one who thought to include us in your holiday gathering rather than let us be alone.

You’re the one who called from miles away to tell me you were holding me and the Lord was holding me.

You’re the one who saw to it my grass was mowed when I was overwhelmed with the kids and would have let it grow over the top of the house.

You’re the one who brought over a check on Christmas Day to cover expenses you had no idea I worried about.

You’re the one who watched my kids so I could have dinner with a friend without the constant clamor of “Hey, Mom, guess what…”

You’re the one who cleaned my bathroom on your hands and knees just as it was beginning to resemble one in a gas station.

You’re the one who prayed for me while you were getting ready for church Sunday mornings, figuring I was facing some challenges (I was).

You’re the one who checked in on me while I was driving long distances, and insisted I call when I got there.

You’re the one who cried with me at the cemetery on Memorial Day, and brought flowers for Keith’s grave.

You’re the one who took me for my first pedicure on Mother’s Day and sat laughing with me.

You’re the one who shared out of your bounty for the holidays to make sure I had something to open, too.

You’re the one who still called me with your prayer needs, realizing that I needed to take the focus off me and do things for God.

You’re the one who pulled up a tissue and sat down, chocolate in hand, to spend an hour with me.

You’re the one who listened when Jesus whispered in your ear that I needed you.

And for that I thank you.

From the bottom of my heart.

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. – Proverbs 17:17

A Happy Mother’s Day

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My love language is gifts.  (read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, www.5lovelanguages.com)

That means that the holidays and I continually do this great dance to see if my needs will feel met.  It’s just the way it is.  Not right or wrong, just reality.

When Keith was alive, we exchanged gifts at each holiday.  I was usually happy to give him hints, pick it out myself, or call some house project my “gift.”

But not for my birthday.  Then, I needed a surprise.

Since Keith’s death, God has continued to send me surprises.

Even for Mother’s Day…maybe especially for Mother’s Day.

We are on the eve of my fifth Mother’s Day without Keith and each year God has touched the heart of someone to bless me in an amazing way.

One year, a dear friend took me for a pedicure while her hubby and my boys cleaned out and washed my car.

One year, I looked out the window to find my sweet neighbors mulching my front beds.

One year, friends came over to make breakfast at my house.

One year, flowers arrived the Saturday before.

It is almost like Christmas morning when I was a kid, when I eagerly tripped down the stairs to see what Santa left me.  Wise Santa, my parents told me, always knew what I needed and of my list what would be the best gift.

This year, God had a gift planned as well.

My dear, sweet friends from a local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers, www.mops.org) group felt led to make Mother’s Day baskets for our widows’ group.

When they asked me months ago whether they could do this project, I was touched.  When I saw baskets, I was flabbergasted.

These were not tokens.  The ladies went all-out in filling the baskets until each one was a rich, loving expression, mom-to-mom, of what a struggle it is, what a joy but a pain it is to be a mom.  They may not be single moms, but they got it, appreciated us.

When we picked them up, they overflowed the back of my car.  I cried.

But that was the beginning of the gift to me.

I got to have the joy of delivering these precious baskets to each of the ladies, to see their faces, feel their gratitude, wipe their tears.

God in action!  And, praise Him, I got to be part of it!

Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. – 1 John 3:18

Flowers and Candy

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For those of you who saw my last post, I had been more distant from the Lover of my soul than I had wanted.

I had the opportunity on Sunday to tell some people how much they have meant to me and my family, something as a people I don’t think we do enough of.  I shared how they had blessed us and I think that blessed them as well.

Then my Lover sent flowers and candy to my soul.  My connection with Him deepened in just that moment.  I felt His presence to the point of tears.

Funny how often the fix for me is to look outside myself and do something for someone else!

Here is the prayer that winged its way from my heart onto the page at that moment:

Gracious and awesome Lord – I am humbled by Your love and care for me and my byos.  It brings me to my knees emotionally to think of what good care You take of us.  Even though today, especially, I miss Keith more than ever, I wouldn’t change my life, where we have gone, where we are going, for amything because You are there, there, there!  I can’t imgine my life not being as it is now.  I glory in serving You, in being Your instrument to allow others to step up and help us and therefore bless us and further Your kingdom.  Help me to never, never forget that — or my boys to forget that.  I love You!  Help me to live for You always, always, always! 

Joy as a Verb

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“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” – Habakkuk 3:18 KJV (emphasis mine)

I have always thought of joy as a thing, something to possess.  It is storing memories and moments in the scrapbook of your heart.  It is that rope you cling to when you are at the end of yours.  It is something beautiful and precious, but almost something past.  When Keith died, we still found lots of joy.  It was present in the care of our Savior, the love of our friends and family, and the remembering of the life of a godly man.  This joy was good and right and real.

This passage talks of another kind of joy, though.

I have this print by the artist Michael Podesta in my living room:

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http://www.michaelpodesta.com/images/products/417.jpg

This is joy…the word made into action…dancing!

This is how I want to live – with joy as a lifestyle – embracing whatever comes my way.  I want to recognize that the Father planned my days, or at least allowed them to play out as they have, and that regardless of the outcome, it is for God’s glory.  I want to dance in the rain and in the pain, to see beauty around me even in the midst of the hard and ugly!

The verse our family has relied on through Keith’s death and other stresses has always been Jeremiah 29:11:  ” ‘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 verse has given us a lot of comfort, but I would submit that it speaks of the first kind of joy, resting joy.

If you read just a bit farther, though, to the end of the verse, I think you get at this dancing joy:  “You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.” (verse 13)

So, I’m going to work at joying my way through 2012 — seeking God in all the moments, good and bad, and dancing to His tune as I go!