The First Cut is the Deepest...

The day before Amelia's first birthday, I woke up feeling not great. I showered and did my best to muster strength and energy to get to work. I looked terrible and something just felt a bit off. I drove to work and went to my office and started seeing my kids for the day. Something wasn't right. I started having this sharp pain in my side and felt really nauseous. When my group finished up, I pulled myself out of my chair and staggered to Melody's portable classroom. When I walked in she asked me what was wrong and I told her I didn't feel well and I was in pain. She asked where and I told her. She came over and pushed on my side, which sent me through the roof. She told me I needed to go to the doctor, that it could be my appendix. After many scans and driving between appointments later, we got the call that I needed to get to Harrison Hospital right away because I needed an emergency appendectomy. I was in surgery that afternoon. 

Amelia over the course of the last few years was plagued with sore throats and just not feeling well. The doctor finally decided that they were bothering her so much, and she was snoring and at risk of apnea, that he was just going to take her tonsils and adenoids out. At the beginning of last summer, she had surgery to remove both of those things. She has had much relief from that procedure. 

We are so lucky to be able to have the magic of modern day medicine to help us out. If we are having discomfort or pain, if something is making us sick or not feel well, we just have surgery. Cut it out. Remove the diseased tissue and get on with our lives. In moments of grief and heartbreak, I wish we could do the same with our hearts and souls. 

My heart hurts. My soul is damaged. There is so much pain and sadness that my heart is broken. Sometimes I can't even breathe. So, remove the damaged tissue. Take out this thing that is causing so much pain, so much agony, so much discomfort. 

I am a Christian and I firmly believe that everything that happens is for our eventual good. Being through what I have been through, and seeing where I was when I first started this process and where I am today, I am in disbelief at the journey I have been on. I shake my head and cannot believe how the twists and turns led me to the place I am right now. I am strong and I am faithful. I know where I stand in God's kingdom and I can clearly see the winding path He used to grow me up in my journey. I see and I believe all of these things. But sometimes, the grief and the heartache and the sadness are just too much. Sometimes, I close my eyes and I think that I can't possibly endure any more. The pain is too great. My heart hurts too much. I feel so lost and alone, like I'm wandering in a fog and I don't know exactly where I'm supposed to go to find a clearing. 

I have had a lot of loss in my life. All of my grandparents. My Uncle Ernie. My husband. My second dad Tom. My other adopted dad and our dear Grandpa Clay. And you deal with these moments individually, but you also look at these events in a group. The grief of Clay is compounded by those pieces of Tom that I still haven't faced. The absence of Tom in my life makes my heart sear in pain as I think about not having a husband to complete my family and who Brian would be today if he hadn't killed himself. All of these deaths make me want to run to my grandfather and lay my head in his lap and sob, but he went before any of them. 

So, my heart is broken and I am sitting at the Silverdale waterfront sobbing in the front seat of my truck as I write this. I want my heart gone. I want it cut out. I just want the pain and the heartbreak to stop!

And then, I hear Father God's voice in my ear: "Psalm 34:18 - The Lord is near to those who are discouraged; He saves those who have lost all hope."

A simple reminder that He is there with me. That He will save me. That I am not alone and not forsaken, as I have often felt in this process. He will grant me hope. Not by cutting out my heart, but by walking me through my grief. By asking me to trust Him in my heartbreak and sadness. I have hope that Brian died and Tom died and Clay died and my grandparents died for a reason. God needed them. It was part of all of their plans. And as sad as I am, I have to remember that these events were all part of God's plan. That all of those people who I love so dearly are at Jesus's feet right now, waiting for the day we can join them again in heaven. 

In the meantime, I have a job. Father God has entrusted me with His people here on earth. I am to go and make disciples. To be an example of Jesus Christ in my daily life. To love on the people that are still here with me. I can't do any of those things without my heart or without my soul. 

So, as badly as I want it gone, removed, cut out...that can't happen. I need my heart to love. I need my heart to live and pray and believe the path that God has chosen for me. So, I will take a second to use my God-given heart to grieve and to cry and to be so sad that I don't know what to do next. And then, I will use my heart to love the other people who wish their hearts could be removed for a bit. 

Don't lose hope, my friends! The best is yet to come! And the welcoming committee that will be there will be an amazing sight to behold. And I'll for sure want to have my heart right where it is in order to feel it bursting with pride and joy when the race is won and victory is ours. 

Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted. Thank you, oh my Father, for these words and for Your comfort. I know that I can survive the most painful parts of this process because of Your promises to me. 

My heart is broken. But the blessings from this process have been ringing loud and clear. Romans 8:18 says "I consider that what we suffer at this present time cannot be compared at all with the glory that is going to be revealed to us." I can't wait for the bigi reveal, the happy ending. So I will suffer through. And know that God's hands are in every aspect of this. 

Thank you, Father! Amen!

The Story of Who I Am...

Today was a difficult, emotional day. Watching my family who I have come to know and love, the people who mean so very much to me go through something so emotional and tough, was hard. And grieving the pieces of that man I loved so dearly was hard. Loving someone is so worth it, but makes the "see you later"s so very hard. 

During the service today, people shared stories. Lovely stories and memories of a man who hooked into a lot of hearts. Stories of happier days when Clay was carefree and loving life. Stories from brothers and previous neighbors and people who knew and loved him.

Days like this make me think a bit deeper. Perhaps I am more morbid than others, but I paused at one point in the service and thought: What stories would people tell about me? What would people say? Have I had an impact on anyone like Clay has impacted so many? Have I changed a life for the better? Am I patient and loving and caring? Do I exude joy and happiness? Do I treat people nicely? Would people know that I am faithful and a Christian and that my main drive in life is to love and care for people as Jesus Christ loved and cared for others?

We all have stories to tell. We all have stories to be told about us. Part of my sadness and grief in the process of losing my husband was not getting those stories. Not hearing the good from Brian's life. Brian was such a good part of our community. He worked for the Washington State Patrol and then Cencom. He was a volunteer EMT and firefighter. He was a member of the Coast Guard Auxiliary. He was a HAM radio operator and donated a lot of his time to community events surrounding those areas. But the ending of his life was horrific and none of those valiant things mattered anymore. He was a child molester. He was evil and awful and sickening. Then he killed himself. Where his funeral should have filled the church, it was poorly attended, many of his law enforcement and fire department friends citing that they couldn't come and support this man given his poor choices in the ending of his life. Where there should have been stories about the great things he did for others, the volunteering he did, the people he helped, there were no stories shared. No one wanted to speak about him. He destroyed all of the good he did with one horrific decision. 

We all have stories. What would your stories be? Would people flock to the microphone to sing your praises? Would they tell family and friends what an amazing person you are? Would there be monologues on how kind and caring you were? Would people voice your faith in God and your willingness to share God's love with others?

I want that! I want to live a life that someday leads to an amazing, honorable eulogy. I want to be kind and loving and compassionate. I want people to be brought to Christ through the example I lead in my life. 

The good news? We serve a loving, forgiving Father who can turn around anyone's story. We serve a God who doesn't keep track of our past mistakes. Who loves us and cares for us and is only waiting for us to choose Him. Who knows what is in our hearts and wants us to live a life of serving and praising Him. 

It's too late for Brian. Brian ended it all and rather than giving himself a moment to redeem himself, to revise his story, to rewrite the chapters that were in the rough draft of his life. Even Brian's story could have been rewritten by our precious Lord and Savior. 

Your story could be rewritten also! Father God is a God of second chances. Even third, fourth, fifth chances! So, not happy with the prediction of what people would say about you? Change your story! Change your eulogy! Apologize to people you've hurt. Correct wrongs that need to be righted. Fix your eyes on Jesus and read your Bible. Follow His many examples of how life should be led and allow Him to carry you through your life to your ending. 

Clay's ending was amazing! He came to know Jesus as His Savior. He passed away into the arms of Jesus and is rejoicing with all of heaven right now this very second! And the stories people told about Clay reflected a man of God, even before He turned His life to Him! He was amazing! He just needed God to guide His heart down the path toward heaven, and the stories got even better!

Don't live this life that is way too short in a way that doesn't honor Father God! Love this life as His servant for others. Loving heart.  Prayerful soul. Peaceful mind. Love others with a passion for Christ. Live life so that your story is written how you want it to be written. 

What stories do you want people to  tell the world about you? What legacy do you want to leave? Think about this for a second, and ask Father God to help you find your way on that path! He wants to lead and guide you, to guard and protect you. He wants to help you write your story between now and the moment when you eternally rest in His arms in heaven. 

The story of who I am...who do I want to be? Who do I want to be known as? I want to be known as God's servant, a Daughter of the King, a witness for Him in everything I do. I'm asking God to help me write my story. Ask Him to help you write yours too!

I only hope that I am half as loved as Clay was in his all too short life on this planet. When I close my eyes, I can almost hear the heavenly concert resounding through the heavens, with the best drummer in the world pounding out a rhythm for his new angelic fans. Miss you, dad...thanks for letting me help write your story. It was the best one ever! ❤

What is Love?

1 Corinthians 13:13 - And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

My heart hurts. Like tearing out of my chest, bearing my soul, literal pain ripping through me hurts. Death is too much. One death of someone I love is too much. But just as I'm reeling from the loss and the changes of that whole dynamic, another loss announced today at work. My heart is searing as it is ripped in half.

Why do we have to go through this? Why do we get close enough to people that losing them hurts this badly. Why don't tears ever just run out? Why do we love?

It would be so much easier if we just navigated life without forming relationships. Endings are too painful so we should just walk through life and get our jobs done. Don't make attachments. Don't make connections. Don't make eye contact. Don't love. Love happens. And then something interrupts that whether it's change or flux or death. And then hearts break and grief happens and who wants all that?

If I had never met Clay, and my girls and I didn't fall in love with him we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be sneaking out to my car trying to steal away quick moments of sobbing and then pulling myself together to get back to life. I wouldn't be holding Amelia while she sobbed about going to band and playing her drums. I wouldn't be holding Emerson's hair out of her face while she cried and threw up because she misses her Grandpa Clay so badly it's a visceral reaction for her. 

If I hadn't ever sat in classroom meetings with Kathy, seeing her kind heart and her drive for students and if she hadn't always come to me after meetings to whole-heartedly and sincerely thank me for walking her and her student's parents through a conversation I wouldn't have bawled in front of our Superintendent today as he told me she was gone. 

Why do we love? Why do we care about other? Why do we set ourselves up for pain and heartache? Because, my friends, it is worth the pain! I can't imagine not living with love in our lives. I can't imagine walking through life without relationships and people to love and hold. I wouldn't want to trade in the joy people bring into my life to avoid the pain of an ending. 

I grieved Brian's death. He did some terrible things and made bad choices, but I still grieved his death. And still do. But I still wouldn't trade in the four years we were married. I wouldn't wish to have never met him. The relationship that I had with that man helped to shape me into who I am today. He gave me two beautiful daughters and a brief marriage of love and happiness. I wouldn't trade that. 

Clay was a huge part of our lives in that he often dropped everything to help us. He doted on my two little girls and I will always remember how I would walk in for a visit and he would always say "Uh, where are the girls?" as he tried to peek around me to see if they were bounding in behind me. There are so many moments that I have tossed around in my head this last week, remembering the little things and the big things that made him wiggle his way into our hearts. I wouldn't trade any of that. 

Kathy was the kindest, gentlest soul. She so deeply cared about her students and their parents and her coworkers. She was filled with grace and peace and always was thinking about how to make her student's lives easier. She was such a powerful advocate for her students. I wouldn't trade that for anything. 

We have to love. Love makes life bearable. Love is what Father God gifted us! In the opening verse above he tells us out of faith, hope and love, love is the greatest! Faith is really important. That faith in Our Heavenly Father is what gets us a personal relationship with our Father. It's the driving force behind getting us to heaven! Hope gives us the strength to make it the next day. Hope gives us the belief that things will get better. And yet neither of these are as important as love. 

It is hard to love. Grief is a tough price to pay for love. The heartache and the pain. The tears and the sleepless night. The worry and the angst. The sadness and the feelings of despair. It's all so very uncomfortable. It's all so painful. It's all so...awful. But, the stronger the pain at the end, the more love you hold in your heart for that person. 

The deaths that have happened recently hurt so very badly. Because of love. So much love for these people. So much love, in fact, that we will learn to let them go and to be grateful for knowing them, and grateful that they are at peace. They are in heaven. They are completely and beautifully healed. And you know what? The love that they left us with will be enough to carry us through to heal also!  

It's tough right now and it hurts. Sometimes I can't breathe. Sometimes I want to pretend that it didn't happen. That it's not real. That my other dad is going to call to schedule a trip to the bowling alley with his girls. Or that Kathy will come to my office with her soft presence and ask me about one of her kids. But rather than that, I'm going to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and ask Father God to walk me through my grief and my tears and to remember the love they left behind. 

The greatest of these is love. I love you! You, reading this blog post, I love you! And Jesus loves you! And all together, we will fill the world with love and we will carry on. For Clay. For Kathy. For Brian. For all the loved ones we have lost. We will love. For that is the greatest thing of all.   

When You've Only Got 100 Years...

I'm a writer. Not professionally. I've never had anything published. I won essay contests often in elementary and right up through high school, but other than that my writing is for me. And others. I've been led to write often for others. Tonight, I'm writing for me, but hoping to strike a chord with others too. That, I think, is the goal for most of my blog posts. They are ramblings for myself, with the hope that they will find a target audience that they may help through something. To know that my story isn't over and I can use my journey to help others on theirs. 

If you read my last blog post, you know that I lost a dear, sweet man in my life. Clay Maxim was my other dad. My girls' sweet Grandpa Clay. We hadn't known Clay for as long as many of the people I met over the last few days have known Clay. Clay was a byproduct of knowing Melody. Melody came first. And I won't ever forget my first twinge of admiration for this man I had never met. I was going through my journey with Brian and Melody sent me an email, asking how I was doing as she often did. I replied with my answer and she replied back to me with love and this statement (I remember like I was just reading it yesterday): "Even the unknown dad Clay asks about you and the girls often and sends his love." I was astonished. This man not only allowed me to saturate his wife's time and took her away from her family often to help me through various events, but he also cared about me and took me in as his own daughter without even knowing me. Hadn't even met me yet. He was concerned and cared. I was instantly loved by this man. 

We finally met him, and my girls immediately fell in love with him. He taught them how to play Gray Wolf in the Christmas trees. He placed then tiny Amelia on his lap in front of his amazing drum setup and handed her the drumsticks, igniting her love of the percussion instrument that she now plays in beginning band. He took them on dates to the bowling alley where he taught them to bowl for their very first time. He called and scheduled meet-ups with them at Chuck E. Cheese's where he showed them how to throw a curve ball to score the most points in skee ball.  He played with them. He listened to them. He called them to talk about wiggly teeth or new drumsticks. They would call and ask for help with something and he would run right over with his tools to tighten the cymbal on Amelia's drum set. Or give Emerson advice on drinking through a straw with a missing tooth. They loved him so very much. And he loved them right back. 

And then all he did for me. He was always right there with anything I needed. Not hesitating to offer to help, even if I was just chatting about something. He teased and would flash his cheeky grin. He also just scooped me up and loved me. One day I needed to get away so I drove to Melody's house, thinking no one would be there. I parked my truck and got out and sat on her beautiful porch and sobbed and sobbed. I heard my name and turned and Clay was standing in the porch door, with a worried look on his face. He walked over and pulled me up and put his arms around me. Told me everything would be ok. And then took me in and we watched old band videos and chatted the afternoon away. He genuinely cared. He treated me as if I were just a part of his family. Just another daughter. And I know he had many daughters and sons that he just took in. He loved so many people and they loved him right back. 

I miss him. I miss him with every fiber of my being. I know that he is no longer suffering. That he has been scooped up himself and taken into the arms of Jesus. He doesn't have Parkinson's. He doesn't have a tumor. He doesn't have tremors and pains in his legs or his feet. His language is intact. His vision is perfect. He's playing the drums and teasing all the angels up in heaven. He is healed! The tumor is gone and he is whole and sitting at the feet of Jesus. 

That was probably my most favorite part of his whole journey - watching him change in his views about God and his faith. Back in October we had a conversation about God when he was first diagnosed with the tumor. God worked on Clay's heart from that moment on and he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior after a while. He was baptized and welcomed Jesus into his heart. He was a changed man, marked by our Heavenly Father. On a journey and a mission for God. And his message of faith and love and hope and peace is a message that we hope spreads far and wide. He grew stronger everyday. I thought this would be physically when we were gifted that phrase, but it was spiritually. And the stronger he grew spiritually, the closer he moved to being with his Savior in glory! 

In my selfish thinking, it was too soon to lose him. I wasn't ready. I know his family and friends weren't ready. We didn't get enough time with him! There were still games to play and smiles to share and nicknames to bestow. But Clay was ready. He was firmly planted in his faith and he was ready to go and join his Savior in heaven. He was brought complete, beautiful healing! He is whole and beautiful and waiting for his family and friends, and even strangers that may hear his testimony and come to the peaceful arms of Jesus. He is waiting to welcome each of us as we walk into the gates of heaven and join him in eternal glory. 

There wasn't enough time. One hundred years wouldn't have been enough time though. To know Clay was to love him. He had an amazing personality, a joking spirit, and beautiful soul. He brought light and life to all those who interacted with him. He was fun and silly and goofy. He was the best. I miss him so very much. My heart is broken. I know that the same God that has healed Clay will also heal our broken hearts. And I will for sure be anticipating the reunion with him in heaven! 

Clay is healed! The tumor is gone! Amen and amen!

Matthew 11:28 Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. 

Jeremiah 30:17 But I will  restore you to health and heal your wounds declares the Lord. 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Today has sucked. Actually, to be more specific the last few days have sucked. Or if I'm being completely honest, it's been months of suckiness. People I love are hurting. People that God has gifted into my life are going through something that I can't fix, that I can't change. People I love are struggling and I can only sit by their sides, hold their hands, and pray.

But, what good is prayer? THIS isn't what I prayed for! I didn't pray to lose a very important man in my life. I didn't pray for him to die! I didn't pray for him to slip through our fingers just when things were hopeful and looking forward. This isn't what I prayed for at all.

And weaving in and out of gratefulness and faithfulness with anger and frustration has made today exhausting. When really I should have just been letting go and letting God. BUT, He must not know what I meant! He must have misunderstood! I should have been more specific with my prayers. I didn't pray fervently enough. I didn't pray every day. I should have spelled things out better in what I was asking.

And then, in the middle of all of that angst and heartache, the most beautiful three-band rainbow stretched across the sky. Every color of the spectrum was there for three whole cycles, one on top of the other. And I'll admit I was angry. As a little girl in parochial school, we were always taught that rainbows were symbols of God's promises to us. The first rainbow that was painted across the sky came with the promise that God would never send another flood to destroy the earth again. A rainbow?! How dare He paint a rainbow across the sky in front of the large picture glass windows of the hospital room. How dare He! He promised us healing. He promised us wholeness. He promised us that if we walked in faith with Him, He would answer our prayers. This wasn't answering our prayers. Huddled over a hospital bed looking lovingly and longingly at a man that so many of us love is not where this was supposed to go! The promise was healing. No more tumor. No more Parkinson's. No more pain and suffering. What we were getting wasn't worthy of a promise rainbow.

And then God lovingly pushed into my angry heart and whispered "three bands." Three levels of achievement for Clay. The first band, symbolic of Clay's former self without knowing Christ. The second band, symbolic of Clay's current life riddled with pain and agony, but oh so faithful in our Heavenly Father. The third band, symbolic of Clay's most blessed life to come: triumphant living cradled in the arms of our Lord and Savior, free from pain and Parkinson's and tumors. Whole and healed. Beautiful healing, just as we have been asking for. This is the ultimate goal for all of us, for all Christians. Beautiful healing, whole bodies, a triumphant journey to heaven. Thank you, Father God, for allowing us to lead Clay through that journey. Thank you, Father God, for leading Clay to profess his faith, get baptized, partake in the Lord's Supper, and to await for Our Lord and Savior to carry Him home to reign eternal with Jesus on the Heavenly realms.

And with a calm heart, and a soul strong in the Lord, and with my bestie and prayer partner by my side, and all of Clay's family and friends rallying around him, I confidently declare: THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT WE PRAYED FOR! A beautiful, perfect life in heaven with Jesus. And in reality, this is exactly what we should be praying for for all of us. For Clay. For Melody. For Kathy. For Steve. For Kristi and Dale. For all of the people who have walked through the doors to Clay's room today to share their love and humble admiration. Spending eternity in heaven with a whole, healed, perfect body should be exactly what each and every one of us is praying for every day!

There is no doubt that we will miss Clay. We were not ready for it to be over this quickly. We were not prepared to be in this hospital room right now. My heart breaks and tears flow openly and freely as I try to envision a life without my other dad, a life without Grandpa Clay. Clay was so pivotal in so many lives. His passing will leave many holes in so many hearts.

But we cannot dwell there! We have to have faith and trust that this is part of God's plan! God has had us on a journey for sure! He has walked Clay through this life, each and every step orchestrated by God's divine conducting. Playing the drums. Meeting Melody and Kristi. Having Dale. Getting his diagnosis of Parkinson's. Working in loss prevention. Each and every friend that walked through Clay's life was supposed to walk through. They needed a Clay and Clay needed them. Even his tumor diagnosis. Looking back on the journey that is Clay's life, each and every one of those events shaped and molded him into the person he is today! A believer in Jesus who is fully seated in God's righteous hand! A man who is secure in his faith and is getting ready to prepare to begin the last and final glorious leg of his journey - the road to eternal peace!

So, anger at this morning's rainbow has led to this tear-stained blog post. This seems like an ending to us, but it's just the beginning for Clay! And my prayer is exactly for what Clay is experiencing right now in this moment - the transition to whole, complete, beautiful healing! No more anger at rainbows from me! When I see a rainbow from now on, I will see Clay, remember what an influence he had on my life and the lives of my girls, and smile knowing that he is looking down on all of us with his big, goofy grin. The promise in the sky. God's promise in the sky. The tumor is gone. Dad is healed. Amen and amen.