From Paradise to Plan B

Things I Can't Do

2012-01-25T22:28:00.002-05:00

My Birthday Dinner--Just Six of Us

I just had one of those weekends.

It was my birthday...and...

One of my son's dearest friends got married in California.

The son of his second mother...my dearest friend's son.

The ones who walked us through two memorial services and wept with us.

I so wanted to be there.

I had planned for months to be there.

It felt like I should be there.

So many people I love all in one place.

But when the moment came,

I just couldn't do it.

Couldn't force myself into it.

Hyperventilation, palpitations, throat constriction.

Happy occasions are dangerous now.

They rip the heart open, and create an emotional emergency, not unlike a medical one.

Symptoms abound.

I've worked so hard to paste my broken heart back together,

to keep it beating,

and it's ever. so. fragile.

My birthday, without my son, is bad enough.

(bad, bad, bad.)

Being at a wedding with all his closest friends is more than I can bear.

Too many broken dreams all in one place.

But I send my love, my gift, my prayers,

And thank them all

for their grace and compassion

in understanding

the weakness of a cripple.

Heb 4:15,16

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Another Year

2012-01-04T21:15:00.000-05:00

Another year turns

Another twist in the heart

Another decision to trust the unknown

Another determined effort to go forward in spite of

Another year without you.

Blue Christmas Again

2011-12-20T10:21:00.006-05:00

"It feels entirely impossible that I will live the rest of my life without my brother's physical presence. It feels like a horrible dream and a cruel joke."

These are the words I read this morning from a precious friend on facebook. Another bereaved mother is inviting her community to a mass in her daughter's honor on Christmas Eve. Our new friends in Joplin, MO are suffering through their first terrible Christmas after the crushing tornado that killed so many. A precious Maui friend is experiencing her first lonely Christmas with her husband in Heaven, as many local Navy SEAL families here are facing their first tough Christmas morning without daddy.

My thoughts turn hourly toward many friends who are suffering loss this Christmas, and one very precious family that is anticipating loss as they bravely wend their way through another Christmas with a terminal cancer prognosis. I worry about them all, and pray for them, and ask God to pour mercy on them. I have met so many broken-hearted people now, and know there is a whole, almost invisible, substrata of people for whom the Christmas holiday is truly excruciating. It's a fount of once sweet memories that has now become a painful reminder of deep, unrecoverable loss. Doug Coupland said, "Christmas makes everything twice as sad." There are no quick cures under the tree for these hurting people.

This is our fourth Christmas without Joey, and we are in an edgy, restless, unmanageable funk. You might think we would be used to it, but we are not. After 28 Christmases with our vibrant son, one who lit up our lives, we are not going to "get over" his absence anytime soon. It still cuts deeply and we are in a bit of a wilderness trying to be part of the holidays with our friends and church, but mostly longing to simply wander into a cave for a week or two and cry. It creates an unwieldy divide inside the soul.

Scripture calls death an enemy. The Bible never glosses over death, or tries to minimize it in any way. It is the thief of everything that is good in this life--love, companionship, hopes and dreams--and the Bible tells the truth about it. But it also gives us hope that death will not be the end of the story. I cling to these words of Jesus:

John 10:27-29 “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.”

And these from the Apostle Paul:

1 Peter 1:3-5 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you.

It's true that there is no quick cure for grief and loss, and it won't be fixed today or tomorrow. It does require a patient wait for the things God has prepared for us. But they are coming and that is our solid hope. I believe the reassurances about the world to come--a place where there will be no more death, sorrow, sickness or separation. My anchor is there. I lifted it out of the miry pit of this world, and sunk it into the solid rock of Heaven when my son left. My hope is there.

For now, we get through the days as we can. No small task, but we find our ways. My friend in CO bakes and quilts, my friends in OH preach, and my friend in WA writes and collects blankets for the children's hospital. We give as we can and no longer expect so much from this world. We weep with those who weep. We don't ride the wave of false joy that the television specials and commercials promote. We get in and out of stores as fast as we can. We don't relate to Jolly St. Nick or jolly anything else. Jolly is a thing of the past.

Rather, we endure like a runner in a marathon, for the trophy at the end of the race. We keep our "eyes on the prize" and ignore the distractions on the sidelines. We anticipate the party that will be had then--a true celebration, with true comfort and true joy. And best of all, the truth that makes it possible to survive this sorrowful world, we will all be together at the finish line.

Though it isn't easy, that, when all is stripped away, is somehow turning out to be enough.

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.” ~ William Penn

My Son's Handiwork

2011-12-17T18:29:00.000-05:00

My son created this video as part of his ongoing ad campaign for Red Bull in 2007. It's all for fun and I'll spoil it for you by telling you that Miguel del Toro is a fictitious character. I love the subliminal advertising with the pro surfers wearing Red Bull hats. It's had over a half million hits on youtube. He also did a Red Bull campaign with Shawn White, the Olympic snowboarder. I posted about that during the last Winter Olympics.

Just one more reason why I miss our kid so much.

Saying Goodbye to a Friend

2011-12-14T09:47:00.001-05:00

John, Curt, Patti, Jeff

This is one of my favorite pictures of my friends, Curt and Patti. Curt went home to be with the Lord on December 4, after suffering through a brain tumor and treatment. He was a great man and a pastor at our Maui Church. The following words are from a comment I wrote on his family's blog. We will miss you, Curt. All our love to Patti and the family.

Fifteen years of sharing a men's group with Joe, week after week, year after year, Joe said Curt was a true friend and a support through thick and thin--one of the dearest friends of his life. One of my (Karen's) most cherished memories is of our son's Baldwin High graduation. Joey wore Maui casual: slippers and shorts under his gown, thinking he could outsmart the dress code of slacks, shoes, shirt and tie. Not a chance. They pulled him out of the line up and said, "NO slacks, no diploma". We were too far from Kihei to make it back in time. The traffic outside the stadium was snarled in a standstill. Nonetheless and without a moment's hesitation, Curt came to the rescue. Despite the fact that his own daughter was also graduating, he blasted out of the stadium, drove home, grabbed the necessary garb from his own closet and got it back to Baldwin High in the nick of time for our son to walk the processional with his classmates. I cannot see those graduation photos without seeing Curt, the man who made it possible.

Curt was a man of character, unselfishness, wisdom, strength, calm and determination. He seemed to intuitively know how to solve just about any problem--he'd seen it all. He was kind, friendly, and the best Sunday morning emcee I've ever seen. He knew how to take the cringe out an awkward moment and make everyone relax.

The last time I saw Curt, he was at the beginning of his cancer, in the hospital, post-surgery. Our trip to Maui coincided, and I was so glad we were able to see him. As we surrounded him in a circle of prayer and support, I saw one tear trickle down his cheek. That is my final and most poignant memory of him. I think he knew it was the beginning of the end of his life's journey, and though he was courageous, I think it was the realization that this was going to be his goodbye to all of us. We were so optimistic, and I only realize this now in hindsight. I am so glad I had that moment with that beautiful man. We will miss our dear friend, and know that Heaven is better for having him there--though we are poorer without him. Thank you, Curt, for being an amazing, good and faithful servant, and our friend.

Andrea Bocelli Sings "Time to Say Goodbye"

2011-12-11T19:58:00.001-05:00

Lyrics translated:

When you are far away

I dream of the horizon

and words fail,

and, yes, I know

that you are with me;

you, my moon, are here with me,

my sun, you are here with me

with me, with me, with me.

Time to say goodbye. -- I'll go with you

to countries I never

saw and shared with you,

now, yes, I shall experience them.

I'll go with you

on ships across seas

which, I know,

no, no, exist no longer,

with you I shall experience them again.

I'll go with you.

I watched the "Andrea Bocelli in Central Park" PBS special tonight. Wept my way through this song--a mother's song. It filled me with sorrow, longing and hope for the world to come.
Hope this comforts some other mothers who are missing their beautiful children this Christmas, and for anyone missing someone essential...may God comfort each of you.

Suffering and Hope

2011-12-06T10:46:00.003-05:00

What I encountered just last weekend:

a young man's suicide while he was away at college,

a mother whose teen daughter was killed in an auto accident

at an uncontrolled traffic intersection,

a Missouri city ravaged by a freak tornado

and 116 random deaths,

our Maui pastor succumbing to brain cancer,

military widows and their children gathering together

at a hotel in West Virginia.

Every day, the bell tolls. Death, grief, loss.

It cannot be ignored.

It cannot be controlled.

It cannot be contained.

Resiliency.

The ability to bounce back after trauma and loss.

The ability to scale a jagged mountain of shock, sadness, and sorrow,

on your hands and knees,

and keep going

while knowing

there are yet more mountains

to be scaled.

I guess I can say now that I have it.

It requires endurance.

"I can do this for now."

It's based on hope.

"It won't always be this way."

It relies on trust in the Truth Teller.

"If it were not so, He would have told me".

Rev 21:3-5

I also heard a loud voice from the throne which said: "Behold, God's dwelling-place is with men, and he shall dwell among men, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them. He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more; neither shall there be mourning nor wailing, nor pain, for the first things have passed away."
The One who is seated on the throne said:
"Behold, I make all things new!"
And he added, "Write this:
'These words are faithful and true.'"

Thankful

2011-11-24T09:23:00.005-05:00

Chase is back from Michigan.

Sean is back from deployment.

Reunited, when so many are not.

All is as it should be.

Our cherished relatives have arrived.

Our wonderful nephew is here...

...with his beautiful family, and his parents, Don and Viv. (sorry, not pictured)

We also have the joy and honor of sharing the next few days with our dear daughter-in-love, Rachel, and her sweet Mama Layne.

Later today, a bunch of beloved friends will be arriving to share dinner with us.

We are all bound together by love and loyalty, faith and hope.

Crystal with her nephew, George, who is in Heaven with Joey. Our friend on the road of grief and joy.

For this comfort and these blessings, I give thanks.

God has been good to us. We are eating an enormous meal today, and know that's a privilege. We have enough to share with others, and know that's a responsibility. God has been compassionate toward us, and met every need.

His mercies have been new every morning of our past three years. We have cherished family, and new friends who have shared their love and lives with us.

We have new eyes and new dreams, and can see things we never noticed before. Our hearts have been tenderized. We have hope for the future, a different but better hope. We know where our true home is--where our heart's desires will be found.

We know that life is brief, that we can bear sorrow and endure difficulty, and that is not the end of the story. We know there is a new world coming with no more tears.

I hope you all are comforted and encouraged by the goodness of God today.

Psalm 107:1 says, "Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever."

URL or IRL (In Real Life)

2011-11-07T11:43:00.002-05:00

There is some discussion in my little blog world about the value of on-line friends vs. real life friends. One of my bereaved mom friends wrote about it here.  I admit I have spent an enormous amount of time online in the past three years. Beyond the pale. My husband and children have probably shaken their heads more than once to find me propped up in my favorite chair with a cup of tea and my computer open on my lap. Perhaps it's not been the best use of time, but I am incredibly thankful for the technology that has gotten me through countless sleepless nights and restless days. It became my drug of choice when trying to deal with a weight on my chest that felt like a boulder and couldn't be moved. Some use alcohol, some use sleeping pills or painkillers. I use the internet.

In that cyberworld, I found friends who had "been there", and friends who were at that very moment exactly where I was. They expressed words for which I had no vocabulary. They gave companionship and comfort in the cold and harsh landscape to which I had been sentenced. I had some friends in real life that did the same, and most of that comfort also came via the internet--text messages and email and facebook. In moving to be near our living children, it necessitated that we move away from our support system.  At some point in the past three years,  most of my friends and family actually became online friends.

That is slowly changing now. I am gradually regaining a real life, with real moving people in it, but it's not good enough.  My real life is often about activities, checklists, getting things done. My online world is more interior. It's about thoughts, feelings and exploring deeper meanings. I get to reflect with others who are figuring out how to live in a strange new land. I would prefer that they all lived near me and that I could meet with them each day, but that won't ever be. So my URL world must do the job. It is essential now for balance. It cannot be replicated in real life, and it doesn't fit into the perfunctory and superficial routines of a typical day. The urgings to "have a good day", when I am out and about, don't meet the needs of my searching heart. And though I nonetheless smile and nod my head, I can do it knowing I have another place where I am known.

I have been on a journey that I didn't choose and for which I was unprepared. My own resources, which had been fairly adequate up to that point in my life, were quickly tapped and emptied. I needed more. I found it online with people who bothered to care. Their daily encouragements, their letters, their shared sorrow, the conversations about the harrowing, yet spiritual places of grief...all so precious. I owe them a great deal and cherish the friendship of many whom I have never or barely met. I bless their presence in my life, and the internet that gave them to me. I believe now that I have been sitting at God's big table of love.

Ps.42:7,8 Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me-- a prayer to the God of my life.

Ashes

2011-10-27T11:25:00.004-04:00

It is difficult to accept
that my son's precious body
Is now

A box of ashes.
I bore nurtured fed that body.
Nine months inside of me.
Flesh of my flesh,
A soft round baby
Later a long-limbed boy.

I clothed it
Soothed it when it was sick,
Washed it's dirty face and hands,
Took it to the doctor and the dentist,
Pampered it with hot cocoa or sometimes breakfast in bed.

Full size at six foot two,
Shiny auburn hair
Warm chocolate brown eyes
An engaging snaggle-toothed smile
Handsome and straight in a three piece suit
Relaxed in board shorts and flip-flops.
It reflected his aspects well.

Long legs and agile fingers defined it
the long loping stride
the long articulate fingers sliding contentedly
over the neck of a guitar or ukulele
full voice when it sang,
distant eyes when it was thinking deeply,
a sly grin when it teased.

I loved being hugged by that tall boy.
Sliding me gently under his arm and shoulder.
Wrapping his long arms around each of us
Like a blanket.
I loved the person inside that body.
And I loved the body too.
It was him.

Now it's gone.
Barely salvaged
in one-dimensional photographs
and our fading memories.

The ashes stunned me when we picked them up
wrapped in a box
shrouded in
a blue velvet bag with a gold tassle.
As if anything could represent it's beauty.
Nine pounds.
Just a few ounces over his birth weight.
Oh sorrow of sorrows.

My wrecked heart
wondered
how all of that vibrant life
came down
to this
little
precious
box.
Silent.

Death
The most dismal of all endings.
A harshness we cannot bear
Or escape.

Resurrection.
New bodies.
New life.
These
A mother's
Only hope.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead... I Peter 1:3

Note:
Bits of Joey's ashes have been scattered into the waters off Maui,
From a parachute over the skies of Virginia Beach,
From another parachute over the Rose Bowl,
Off a cliff into the Grand Canyon,
Planted under a tree in JoAnne's backyard,
Sprinkled into a stream in Denali, Alaska,
Scattered in the waters off Venice, Italy,
Slipped into the Trevi Fountain in Rome,
And sprinkled on the railway tracks in London.

We want a bit of him in every place he loved.

Light Bulb Moment

2011-09-24T12:21:00.002-04:00

1. God can be trusted.
2. Even when I can't see Him.
3. Even when things are bad.
4. He is good.

5. His love never fails.

The Last Month

2011-09-16T14:56:00.003-04:00

I haven't written on my blog for a month. There has just been too much happening. All of it has been high impact on my heart, so I simply had to live it first, and write about it later. August was the month of earth, wind, and fire. We started our month with the shock of 21 Navy SEALs dying in a helicopter crash--all friends of my children. Then Joey's birthday arrived, and we dealt with the sorrows that accompany his anniversary dates. Then we all had to say a teary goodbye to my grandson as he left for Michigan to play ice hockey this year. And as if that wasn't enough, we had an earthquake, and three days later the hurricane hit. Earth, wind and fire.

This was the third birthday since Joey went to Heaven. It's always difficult, and time doesn't make it easier. But we had some precious visitors and that smoothed the way for us. Joey's best friend, Kevin, showed up with his family and his brother, Ryan. Rachel came too. Here Kevin is paddling around with beautiful little Josie in the pond.

She couldn't decide if she liked it or not, but once they got out, she happily climbed in the boat on the grass.

She played ukulele with Papa Joe, and was a constant source of entertainment and laughter.

Here is Rachel, with Kevin's wife, Molly, and our dear friend Crystal, and Jaime. We honored Joey's birthday with a concert and picnic at the amphitheatre. It was the 80's bands, Journey and Foreigner. Somehow strangely suitable for these kids that grew up in the 80's.

Here we made beignets, french donuts, on Saturday morning. Drew brought us the mix from the world famous Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

Yum! They were absolutely scrumptious. I don't regret that I ate a few too many.

It was hard to say goodbye to these precious friends, Joey's closest since childhood. We did it with promises to come together again, soon.

And a difficult goodbye to our sweet Josie, too, his darling namesake, and such sunshine in our lives.

After Kevin and Molly left, Rachel and Ryan went fishing one last time.

Then it was off to the airport with Rachel, and another departure photo of hers to add to our already large collection.

Goodbye Ryan. Thanks for flying 20 hours each way to be with us on this tender occasion.

Once they left, we went back to the continuing grief of caring for the newly bereaved Navy families in our community. This is one back seat full of gift baskets of donations we took to two of the widows. Our whole community has poured out love and practical care on these families.

This was a moment of comic relief, as we were preparing to say goodbye to our Chase. He and Aidan decorated their eyes with quarters. Why? Just cuz they could.

A farewell family shot, with sister, mother, and son.

The truck was loaded with everything he would need for the year, and he and his mom drove the 18 hours to get to Upper Peninsula, MI. Not easy for his mom...not at all...but a joy to support her son with his dreams.

While they were doing that, we were preparing for a hurricane. We filled our barn full with everything that could fly once the hurricane hit town. It was packed.

We also sandbagged the house in preparation for flooding.

This was the power of the winds down the street by the bay. Brandon, our helper, was "past perpendicular", as the weatherman liked to say!

Afterwards, a bit of clean up, but it could have been so much worse.

And several days of power outage, and some flooding, but again, no complaints. Nobody we knew died.

In the midst of the post-hurricane drama, our first ever visitors from Maui showed up and spent the night. Ben was one of our pastors in Maui, and he came with beautiful Tiff and the darling twins. They brought us lots of love and comfort, and a reminder of the friends we left behind in Maui. I still can't believe they took the trouble to visit us so far away!! An unexpected joy in a long and difficult month.

And that's kind of how life is--the good and bad mixed together.You don't get one without the other. While the bad seems to overpower the good, it is in fact the very opposite. The good makes everything else bearable.

2 Corinthians 4:17

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

My Beautiful Boy

2011-08-17T10:41:00.003-04:00

I remember the day I gave birth to this beautiful child. I didn't know I was having a boy, but having had our two darling girls, and pink everything and rhinestones and princess costumes,we were ready to walk on the wild side over snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Joey came home and snuggled immediately into the family circle. There was no 3rd child adjustment--he just slid in and sync'ed into the rhythm. And he was always that way, wherever he went. He seemed to slide into any new environment with ease--kindergarten, youth group, his new school in Maui, his college dorm. He made friends easily and knew how to make strangers laugh. He was easy to know and love.

Here he is at one, with a bump on his forehead, sitting on his big boy flip-down chair. I loved that little jacket with the wooly collar. I guess that's why he's wearing it with his shorts! Loved the knees--so round and smooth, and the little folded hands. That was before his limbs got all long and gangly. He eventually grew into his ears, but the soft eyes and the smooth line of his smile never changed.

Sitting by a campfire, 27 years later, on the road someplace north, maybe Alaska. He was never so happy as when he was sitting in the great outdoors, breathing it in. Trees, campfires, stars, beaches, waves, mountains, snow. All of it. Staring at it and thinking, absorbing. Thanks to Rachel's artist eye and quick camera, we have many of these treasured moments preserved.

His heart and soul were big enough for the sweeping beauty behind him. He fit there and celebrated it.

And because of this, I believe he is having a very similar experience in Paradise. Celebrating and exploring a universe of unbelievable sights.

He lived with zest and passion. He could make fun in a split second. He was highly verbal, especially for a boy, and always had a story to tell. He was a typical family baby--he loved to entertain, and he vitalized any gathering with his humor. I miss his wit and energy so much...and his wisdom and wry insight too.

He was an explorer. He was curious. He was an adventurer. I am so glad he got out and saw the world, and encouraged me to do the same. He was so vibrant and alive that it was contagious. He widened my view. He lead the way. He continues to do that from Heaven, as he has opened my eyes to th world to come. I have come to an assurance that even though he is far away, he is all the more alive, and he is waiting with family and new friends for the day we join him.

His other happy place: in a studio, or on a stage, with a guitar in his hands. He was a singer, a song writer, a musician at his core. This was what he was doing on the final night of his life, and at around 2 am he went to bed... and woke up in another world. Did he smile when he understood? Did two angels whisk him up into the stratosphere and beyond? And that moment of being in the presence of God? --on his knees, face down, grateful and awestruck. What a rush of reality. We are waiting with faith and hope for that moment of reunion and our own inevitable merciful encounter with the Holy One.

For now, we are earthbound. We are trying to live despite our loss, and love those around us better than we ever have.

On Joey's last birthday before he died, the last we ever shared with him, we had a big poker night at his sister Jaime's house. Hours at the green felt table, joking, strategizing, bluffing his way through-- seriously intent on winning a pile of colored chips. He was always competitive. I can't remember now if he won, or if he came in second, but what mattered was this: we all won. It was a rich night of friendship, companionship, laughter and love. It was good. A memory for the decades to come.

It's so important to make sweet memories with those you love. You never know when they will have to sustain someone for the rest of their earthly lives.

Vintage Joey. Long limbs, t-shirt and jeans, sitting in the woods, breathing deeply in the cool, green-filled air. I picture him like this now. Peaceful, appreciative, thoughtful, content, alive to what stands before him, alive to a universe full of love and beauty, and waiting for us.

I have spent the past three years trying to understand the mystery of life, the whys of my own journey, and the purpose of Joey's short life. Through the tears and the sorrow, my heart has broken open. New things have been planted in that fertile ground. My faith has grown. I sometimes wondered if I would ever trust God again. But I do, and more than ever. We are a candle in the wind. He is eternal. He will explain it all someday and it will make sense. For now, Jesus loves me, and faith, hope and love abide.

Happy Birthday, my precious Joey, my beautiful son. Thank you for all you gave to all of us. Your mother loves you, loves knowing you are safe, misses you deeply, and longs for you with hope and a promise of the world to come.

We are gathered in a circle of love today, our family with Rachel and Kevin and Molly and Josie and Ryan, and remembering beautiful you.

John 14:1-3

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions;if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

2011-08-12T10:09:00.013-04:00

I never realized, till Joey went to Heaven, how much music, art and literature are really about that beautiful place. I began to see it everywhere, and this song, originally made famous by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz, and then re-birthed with a Hawaiian vibe by Bruddah Iz and his ukulele, is one that stands out in particular. There is such a deep longing for Heaven in every human heart. And if we long for it, then God has not only created the longing, but He has also created the fulfillment--the Place.

This artist has taken liberties with the lyrics. Where he has put the word laughter, the actual lyrics say, "Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops..." Troubles, not laughter. Troubles seem to be a very important part of the transforming process of life. Laughter is nice, but it doesn't change a thing in us. The sufferings and trials of life, and how we respond to them, are the telling thing.

The mystery of suffering is a big one, and needless to say, I don't pretend to understand it. But I have concluded one thing: troubles are intended to make us fit for Heaven. If we walk through them in simple trust and obedience, even when we are crushed, filled with questions, filled with doubts and fears, we will be transformed. But if trouble turns us away from God, or we attempt to fix it our own way, or surrender ourselves to hedonism to make the pain go away, it locks out its necessary effect.

Suffering, in and of itself, will not improve us. We have to make a choice about the suffering for it to make us better. If it is painstakingly borne as being permitted by a loving heavenly Father for a good purpose, it will eventually produce character, perseverance, and love. Then, we can know that troubles are doing a good work in us--a work that's essential. Because frankly, and this is the heart of the matter, most of us would ruin Heaven, and create another tragic earth, if we are not transformed on some level before we get there.

Don't you agree?

So now I am often saying, "God, transform me. Use my suffering to make me better."

And though it's not easy, I try to really mean it. Cuz in my deepest heart of hearts, that's what I need.

Somewhere over the rainbow, I'll wake up in a place where there are no more troubles...this NOW is my only moment to be changed by them.

II Peter 1: 5-15
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, make every effort to confirm your calling and election. For if you do these things, you will never stumble, and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Freedom Isn't Free

2011-08-07T07:49:00.003-04:00

Our community is devastated by the loss of 22 SEALs in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan yesterday. We know and love the wives and children of these incredible men, and yesterday their lives were changed forever. It is beyond heartbreaking for so many to be lost at once. America's finest have incredibly brave, sacrificial wives and children as well, but this collective loss goes farther than any of us ever imagined. The community and local churches have mobilized to bring comfort and help, but there is nothing we can do to take away the visceral pain of this loss. They will have to learn to live on without their beloved husbands and fathers, sons and brothers. Please keep these precious families in your prayers. Every American owes them a debt of gratitude.

You can donate to the Navy Seal Foundation at http://www.nswfoundation.org/; or to the families of the fallen at essentialchurch.tv

Surprised by Joy

2011-08-02T13:09:00.002-04:00

Last week, something amazing happened to me. I went along on mission with our church youth group. We drove ten hours to Tennessee to work with Operation Backyard. This organization repairs the homes of needy people for free, using volunteer labor and materials purchased by donors. I went along as the cook for our exuberant group of 30 high and middle schoolers and their leaders. I had never done such a thing before, but I knew they would need some healthy food to fuel their efforts. I packed my good knife and cutting board, my apron and my pillow, and headed out the door, driving through VA, NC and through the Appalachian Mountains into TN.

My daughter (front right) was a chaperone/project manager, and my three granddaughters and their friends were part of the crew. They were all the incentive I needed to make this trek. I wanted to be there for whatever they needed. Their team prepped and painted this house for a wheel-chair bound man, whom you can just barely see in the frame of the door.

They climbed the roof to scrape under the eaves. She, of course, has never done such a thing before.

They painted while balancing themselves on top of ladders. No mattresses underneath to catch them if they fell.

They contended with dust flakes from old paint. It had been many, many years since this nearly 100 year-old house had been painted.

Days and days of back-breaking work in 95 degree temperatures. Nary a complaint.

Meanwhile, the second half of our team was in another part of town, re-roofing another house. Yup, our high schoolers just ripped off the old roof and completely replaced it with a new one.

They were also up in the stratosphere, climbing around like pros.

They nailed hundreds of new shingles on to the roof, guided by a roofing professional from our church.

After being in the hot sun day after day, one wonderful night they got a refreshing cool-down in the fountains of Knoxville's World's Fair Park.

Back at our host church, we all slept on the floor and the girls did so without complaint. These are my roomies. They made me laugh. Lots.

Here they are the next morning, eating the breakfast that I got up at 5:15am to prepare, so they could leave for the job at 7am each day. I had never cooked repeatedly for this size of crowd, but loved every minute of it. Spaghetti, pulled pork, stuffed potatoes, baked chicken, french toast, turkey bacon, mexican scrambled eggs. The usual. They were so affirming and grateful, and I felt a joy and enthusiasm I haven't felt since Joey departed. These kids were such an encouragement to me.

Here is our incredible team of leaders and chaperones. They prayed, counselled, encouraged and lead by example. They all hammered and scraped and painted right alongside of the kids. And laughed. Lots of that.

All done with their labor of love, the kids take a picture with the homeowner. See that neat roof behind them? They couldn't have been more proud if they had just won a league championship.

Our second group, also smiling from ear to ear. It feels really good to help people...
Who knew?

With the work done, we headed to our pastor's parents' house at gorgeous Lake Norris in TN. A day and half of lake swimming and jet skiing--such a nice refreshing drink after a a job well done.

Two of my granddaughters and a friend waiting for morning devotions to start. This was the highlight of each day. I loved hearing how God was working on the hearts of these kids.

It was such a sweet time of sharing thoughts and experiences. Each one answered the question, "Where did you see Jesus this week?". I, of course, saw Him in each of these loving, giving kids.

Praying together.

A final photo before heading home.
This group was so bonded, so full of love and joy, and high on what they had just accomplished. I felt so privileged to be part of this team. That's me in the front, third from left, and my daughter next to me on the right.
I came home with new memories, new friends,and new hopes. Perhaps it's possible to live again with joy in this world.

Trying to Be One of These

2011-07-12T19:13:00.008-04:00

Sheep at Rest

After Joey died, I went mad. I went crazy with unbearable knowledge. I hid my heart in denial. I blocked out the truth while proceeding to take care of the pitiful details. I took care of my child's "emergency", without admitting to myself that he had actually died. I kept his death temporary in my thoughts, ever mindful to prepare for his return. His death--it still jolts me when I say it or write it, even after three years--the darkest words. I did all the sad things the experts predict, but in the end, nothing changes the facts. Me: textbook bereaved mom, restless inside, scanning, searching, hungering for a resting place.

Bit by bit, tiny piece by tiny piece, over the past three years, I have allowed the truth of his goneness to sink in. I can sit with it longer than I used to, but I have to repeat it to myself to latch on to it. It's a progression of ideas inside. My mind travels along a well-rutted path now: It says, " he is gone, he DIED, his body died, his precious body with the beautiful eyes and brilliant hair, the long legs, the fluid walk, the smile, the laugh, GONE. But no, his soul is alive, he is somewhere in the universe, we are separate, but he is alive, he is with God, he is okay, where is he? what's he doing? what's he thinking? Not mine to know. Why? I miss him, I want him back, I can't have him back. Endure. When I die I will see him, what now? go forward, keep moving, my grandchildren need me. Endure. But how? With God's help, one step at a time."

It's noisy in my mind, but it's quieter than it used to be. My skin doesn't ache anymore. I don't want to
howl like a wolf or claw the walls anymore. I can breathe again most of the time. I carry on, and mostly cry when I'm alone.

For a long time, I couldn't take on much of anything. I auto-piloted my way through the day, and drowned out the silence of the night. For a long time, I felt betrayed by God. How could You? Why would You? I thought you were my friend.

But now I don't blame Him. I understand. It's this world. It's broken and shattered. People break on the sharp pieces of it scattered along their paths. The evidence of that truth is every where, every day. Sharp glass and broken hearts. Life and death and bleeding. And us too. Not spared.

Slowly I am moving in closer to God. He has been silent for three years, but a friend says that is the compassion of God, and I believe that now. He shares my grief. With grief, really there aren't any words, anyway. God is quiet but present, as the best friends are. He has been present all along.

I can see that now.

Trying to rest in that. Like a sheep in a meadow by a river.

Psalm 23:1,2
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.

The King of the Hill

2011-07-08T09:19:00.002-04:00

While hiking, we were quite content to make it to the top of this little peak. Happy to sit here and savor the beauty.

But not Cliff. Off he went, seeking higher ground. Jeri, not to be outdone, followed after him.

Over snowfields, they plodded forward.

Far from us, along the edge of this great cirque, carved by a glacier. Two little dots in a field of snow.

Till they arrived up here! Two little dots on the edge of the world. Gulp.

And a zooming closeup! There was no way up, but by a ladder, hanging perilously over a steep cliff.

Yikes!

As we were doing this...

They were doing THIS! Up to the top of another steep peak, with God's snowy footprint on the side.

Jeri had the good sense to come down. She inched down using a rope attached to the top of the hill, then side-stepped down the rest of the way. We were pretty much biting our nails observing all of this.

Cliff, so aptly named, stayed up at the top. King of the hill.

Yeah.

Then he cautiously lowered himself, via the rope.

Then cleverly slipped off his backpack...

and slid down to the bottom! Smart chap!

Jeri watched him slide into home base safely.

Then we start the hike down. Breathtaking, in a word.

This hiking team likes to live on the edge.

This dog, too. Apparently he lives in the village below, but hikes up the trails to pick up new friends.

Back at the lodge. Here's to good friends--Joey's revered Moose Drool Beer, and a fond farewell.
~~~
From here we are on our way to the airport. Trip over, but we got to visit another place our son loved so much, and leave some of his ashes there in a stream in Denali National Park. A bittersweet trip made sweeter by the company of Aidan and good friends.
We miss you, Cliff and Jeri.
Thanks for everything.

Up, Up and Away

2011-07-07T10:11:00.002-04:00

This is a shot from our hotel room of the tram to the mountain top. Only 7 minutes up, but a whole new world.

On the tram, looking down toward the hotel and resort area.

More warning signs greet us at the top.

With that in mind, we head UP.

Leaving civilization for the adventure that lies above.

The village is so small now.

Near the top, seven glaciers.

And Aidan. He is near the top, too.

What a view. Where is Julie Andrews when you need her?

For once, I am above them all instead of pulling up the rear.

At the top of the ski-lift.

We make it to our little peak.

The view from on top of it.

The cleanest air, the whitest snow, the bluest sky. We savor this moment.

A close-up on the glacier spilling down the slope.

Joe unpacks Joey's ukulele.

Strumming Joey's songs.

Aidan does the same.

We listen to the sound of perfection.

A moment you never want to end.

Bears and Moose

2011-07-07T09:22:00.000-04:00

With one big sweep of good fortune, we happened upon the Mt. Alyeska ski resort. It's a gorgeous hotel in a four seasons resort area. It took us about 12 seconds to park the RV, slap over our credit card, and get ourselves a couple of rooms with fresh white linens and steaming hot showers. You can feel our excitement in this lobby shot!

The recurring decorating theme in Alaska: bears and moose. It's just not right without it.

Aidan looks at a bronze outside the window. Almost looks real, right?!

Oh, and a rest-aurant. After showers and blow dryers and beverages served on a tray---then came really delicious fish. Cliff had the salmon, I had the halibut. We ate every juicy morsel.

Jeri poses under the aurora borealis. It's a winter-time phenomenon, so we had to be content with this.

The beautiful grounds of the hotel. This is late, about 10 pm. More midnight sun.

And the moose. The ultimate photo op. Cliff and Jeri --#1

The girls--#2

The Johnsons--#3

The mighty moose himself--#4

Aidan and Papa--#5

The adults--#6. Aidan took this shot. That's enough of the moose.

The bear awaits.

The bear hug maximus. As close as I ever want to get.

Cuz of this. Bears are vewwy scawwy.

Big Alaska

2011-07-05T17:41:00.002-04:00

In Resurrection Bay, Seward, as Papa and Aidan sit by the campfire and take in the beauty. I have to say I loved being in a place named Resurrection Bay. Capt. Cook named it that because he arrived on Easter Sunday. Perfect.

Clouds roll in and cover the mountains. The fire feels so good against the cold, fresh air.

It shortly began to rain and we had to quickly jump up, stow the wood and chairs, and wait it out inside the RV. Gotta love the cozy RV in the rain. We ate spaghetti and salad and garlic bread that Jeri had kindly prepared as we sat by the fire.

This is Aidan's shot, and this bunny was ENORMOUS. Unfortunately I have no reference point in the picture, but he looked like he weighed 30 lbs. Everything is BIG in Alaska.

The same with the gargantuan dandelions. They were at least three feet tall.

Bunny Boy sees Aidan sneaking up on him. You can't fool a big bunny. He was as big as a dog.

This shot is of the mud flats at 20 Mile River. It is made from the silt washed down from the surrounding mountains as the snow melts. The four dots are Aidan and Joe, and in the distance, Jeri and Cliff.

Jeri and Cliff on a mud flat surrounded by BIG mountains. They look so small.

Aidan is playing in the mud at the edge of the river. He always finds a way to entertain himself.

The long view of this magical place.

The clouds are amazing. Big, too.

The bend in the river of moving glacial waters.

The mud was unlike anything I've ever touched. Spongy to walk on, almost like jelly. Aidan makes a mud pit.

Then steps in it.

His footprints. It's almost like concrete.

But it sinks like quicksand. This time he just stood there and sank in as deeply as I could tolerate.

Arms and legs went into the magical mud.

I had to take a shot of his crazy wolf hair. It fit right in to this wild place.

Cliff and Jeri sinking in.

Cliff is fascinated by the physics of mud...and what an enormous blue sky!

Independence Day

2011-07-03T15:11:00.002-04:00

America, America,

God shed His grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea.

I love my country and pray for God to guide us as a nation. Oh, how we need Him.

Glacier Hike

2011-07-02T11:01:00.003-04:00

Aidan finds himself a new pair of ears at the ranger station at Kenai Fjords National Park.

In the ranger station, a topographic map of the Kenai Peninsula and its many fjords and glaciers, extending from the large Harding Ice Field. We hiked the glacier near the green valley on the far right of the map.

Aidan ponders rock.

Off we go on one of the well-groomed trails inside the park.

Well, not totally well-groomed. This is evidence a moose is nearby. You don't want to mess with a moose. They are apparently as dangerous as bears.

You can see the toe of the glacier in the distance. It once extended miles down toward the sea. This river bed was originally solid glacier.

As we get closer, we can see the striations made from the moving ice picking up rocks on it's journey down the slope.

Lots of deep blue ice, formed from compression.

A photo-op on a bridge. Cliff and Jeri are seasoned hikers, and easy travel companions.

We want to remember this special trip with Aidan and our beloved Maui friends.

Aidan runs ahead of us to the glacier's edge.

The ice has been making its way down this slope for at least a century.

Ropes to prevent disaster.

I zoomed in on an icy edge.

I guess he's had enough. Time for a rest on a rocky ledge.

Looking down the wide valley to where the glacier used to extend.

Back through the woods; a boy's delight.

Aidan shows his frozen hand. He almost won the "how long can you keep your hand in the frozen water?" contest. Jeri beat him by a milli-second.

Oh, and he picked up some fellow hikers on the way down. Ice worms?

At the river bed, we skip stones across the water. The most perfect skipping stones ever.

The ripples show where the rock skipped. Cliff got one to skip 6 times. Joe did one better.

Aidan didn't want to leave. Muddy, but happy, he can rest in the knowledge of another glacier conquered.

Denali from the Air

2011-07-01T19:23:00.003-04:00

"The Great One" from the sky. Awe-inspiring. That's why we travel...for moments like this.

On the Road in Alaska

2011-07-01T12:33:00.002-04:00

Alaska is so big, making for some large distances between cities, so we spent a lot of time on the road. I was surprised to come upon this along the way.

I remember in the 70's when everyone was leaving California to go work on the Alaskan pipeline. There was big money to be made at that time...kind of a "black gold" rush. I never imagined to see the finished product.

The pipeline is above ground, which allows it to flex with all the techtonic movement. It goes underground at roadways, depicted here in this photo. The towers extend into the ground to keep the pipeline from freezing.

Here are the facts. Pretty amazing feat of engineering. It brings millions of gallons of oil from the rich North Slope--our own oil. Not purchased in the Middle East, it's our little pool of oil independence!!!

Joe had to check it out.

Back again.

Back in the RV, we make plans for our next stop in Seward.

Most of our sightseeing this day was out the front windshield. The views are spectacular any way you see them.

Huge sky.

Huge mountains.

All around you.

Like a circle.

With meadows and rivers and glaciers.

And mirror lakes.

And vivid blues and greens.

And nice boulders for climbing here and there.

Fairbanks

2011-07-01T11:42:00.002-04:00

Fairbanks. The farthest north Alaskan city that can be reached by highway. This building greets you downtown. Not sure of its significance here, but it's a sentiment we all understand.

It was freakin' hot when we were there -- 95 degrees. Apparently Fairbanks has huge thermometer swings between winter and summer. This fountain was a refreshing feature of the town center, sitting next to the Chena river.

The Chena River.

Dogs and Eskimoes. Recurring Alaskan theme. The dogs are a crucial part of Alaskan history, and you can't help but love people that love dogs that much. It's an instant connection between cultures.

Jeri was perusing the names engraved around the fountain, and came across the names of some very dear Maui friends, the Knowles. They used to live here, and crossed the "blue bridge" that connects Alaska and Hawaii. What a wonderful surprise.

Fairbanks is known as the "Golden Heart" of Alaska, depicted here in these flowers.

More beautiful flowers in the plaza.

Some more at a local hotel. Alaskans love their flowers, and have enormous hanging baskets in most towns we visited. It's really lovely.

We found a fur shop, empty due to the soaring temperatures, and spent a little time exploring a subject about which we know very little. They had every kind of fur there, basket loads of them. Eskimoes use 90 squirrel furs to make a winter parka...or they can use one bear fur. The squirrels are easier.
Aidan has a real bear on his head.

Sled Dogs of Denali

2011-06-30T16:15:00.006-04:00

Here we are, sitting in the park service bus, on our way to the dog kennels in Denali. For some undetermined reason, travel in Denali National Park is highly restricted. Cars are only allowed in 15 miles. Any deeper into the park, you have to take a bus for $125. So, yeah, not quite as accessible as, say, Yosemite Valley. Though they don't make it easy to see it, they did let us board the bus to see the dogs for free, and that was a treat!

This is Jamie the park ranger. He gave us the rules and regs before he let us off the bus. More restrictions, but it's okay, cuz it's dogs. No one wants to hurt the dogs.

Looks government, doesn't it. Kinda creepy, right? Okay, I'll stop.

Back to the business at hand: a snow sled. All wood. Beautiful, curvy, sturdy, with leather harnesses.

And cute little log cabin dog houses...with dogs sleeping on the roofs...

as such...

or in the shade, as such. These dogs love it when it's 10 degrees below zero. Love it. Not so much when it's 75 degrees. They are all over-heated and doing their best to keep themselves cool.

They are friendly enough, but they do get petted by 300 people a day. They are bred to be patient and gentle animals, and if they are tired of you, they just turn the other way. They seem to like kids a lot.

And sniffing hands. Don't you love this dog's crystal blue eyes? The dogs are all different colors. They are a mix of breeds, but must be smart, strong, have deep warm coats and fur in their ears to keep them warm in winter. At one time, Denali modernized to snow machines in the winter, but found that the dogs were cheaper and more reliable in the terrain. They could go where a machine couldn't go, ran on the simple fuel of dog food, and required no repairs. The dog sled teams patrol the park all winter long.

Aidan gave the sled a try.

Here's a roomful of them. Wood, metal, long and extra long. Very cool machines.

And another roomful of dog leashes and harnesses, and the nameplates of retired dogs.

Aidan was fascinated by the demonstration.

Here the dogs get harnessed to the sled. They are soooo excited to run. They love this. Even the dogs who aren't running are excited. They are all barking and prancing. It is the highlight of their day.

Whoosh--here it goes. Watch out. They are fast.

Here they are coming round the bend. They are pulling the sled on gravel, and look like they could go forever. They run a long pace of 8 mph, but on this short run, they ran about 15 mph. Beautiful, happy, powerful dogs.

Some of them like to eat rocks. They're tough guys. They all look different, and are placed in the lineup depending on their skills and temperaments. The smartest dogs are lead dogs and know to watch out for ravines and crevasses and cornices on the mountains. The back dogs are good turners. The middle dogs have to balance between the leads and back dogs to make sure they don't tip. It's quite a ballet, and they each serve a purpose.

Resting after that amazing demonstration. They are the happiest employees in the park service.

This is the only dog we were allowed to feed. His name is Buck, and if you look in his fish bowl belly, you will see lots of green stuff in there. It buys dog biscuits and pays the vet bills. A great investment as far as we were concerned.

To Denali

2011-06-29T13:48:00.000-04:00

Cliff and Jeri picked us up in the RV; our home for a week.

Off to Talkeetna. This is the site of most Denali flight-seeing tours. Loved this building. We stayed on the ground, though. Next time we will fly over.

A gnarly treepost. There are a lot of these decorating the town. Apparently formed by trees trying to heal themselves.

A caribou or a reindeer? One and the same they tell me.

Our sweet view of Denali/Mt. McKinley from the river. The Great One is indeed.

After a long day, closing all the shades to sleep in the land of the midnight sun. G'night Cliff and Jeri.

Papa's up bright and early to build the fire and have a cup of coffee.

Aidan looks as grumpy as a bear.

He bears a striking similarity to this guy.

Hiking through Denali National Park wilderness. Such an incredibly beautiful place.

Jeri and Cliff and Aidan. Great hiking companions.

On the trail.

Weasel footprints?

Pop goes the weasel. A different one.

Yup, there's the real thing. Aidan crawled up to him and took this shot. Pretty nice work.

A moose print. Aidan got some plaster of paris from the park ranger and made this footprint mold for a school science project.

We got as close as we could to the caribou.

A typical Alaskan panorama. The braided river with mountains behind and big sky.

A step closer to the caribou. Wow. A great moment for us.

Anchorage Museum

2011-06-26T05:07:00.000-04:00

This museum is a gem. Extraordinary. It contains an exhibit on the native peoples of Alaska that came from the Smithsonian. It's beautiful, but the room was dark and no flashes were permitted, so I was unable to photograph any of it.

Fortunately there was another amazing travelling exhibit from the Field Museum of Chicago. It was on Mammoths and Mastodons. Mr. Grizzly met us at the entrance.

He and his mastodon neighbor were mighty impressive.

Aidan was particularly impressed by this life-like exhibit on animal scat, and how researchers determine exactly what animals eat. Aidan wanted to gross out his family.

I love museums. The order, beauty and heavy silence, the shiny halls and gleaming surfaces, all organized to teach and inspire.

We had a delicious lunch at the museum's gourmet restaurant, Muse. Aidan ordered gourmet mac and cheese, but was really into Papa's cell phone.

After lunch, we hit the children's wing called the Imaginarium. It was fabulous. All kinds of fascinating machines and devices to intrigue children. This chair was self-hoisting with a rope and wheel.

Aidan launched this hot air balloon by pressing buttons that filled it with hot air.

Pretty amazing cause and effect environment for an 8 year old.

This was an infra-red photo of the three of us. Can you see our cameras?

This addictive device allowed you to pull a bubble up and around you. Can you see that Aidan is surrounded by a giant bubble?

Here's a smaller version. He pulls a smaller ring through the air...

and flips it over his head, creating a u-shaped bubble over himself.

Here it popped, raining soapy droplets all over him.

Translucent jellyfish are always magical, looking like aliens floating in space.

This machine recorded him jumping and replayed it in slow motion so he could see himself off lifting off the ground.

Another grandiose bubble machine. Can you see him blowing bubbles out into the space behind?

An enormous ball machine thing. I have no idea what you call this, but it's amazing to see the genius behind the many pathways the balls travel in perpetual motion. You just want to sit and stare.

On the walk back to the hotel , there are many carved moose lining the sidewalks in front of the shops. Here's one in a plaid shirt and overalls. Aidan patiently poses for me each time I ask. He's got an easy-going nature and is still smiling in the cold walk home after several hours in the museum. He's an easy kid with whom to travel, and I hope he feels the same about us. : )

In Honor of Angie

2011-06-25T02:37:00.001-04:00

Beautiful Angie

Angie's Parents, Nick and Sharon

We have been driving through Denali today, and out of internet service range. I am seizing this quick moment to share this post in honor of my dear friend Sharon, who is also a bereaved mom. Sharon and I met two years ago via very dear mutual friends in Maui. Their daughter, Angie, went to Heaven a month after Joey, and we have shared the trials and tribulations of grief through literally hundreds of emails.

Thinking of her today, I found this poem by Christina Rosetti. When she says "death is nothing at all", I believe there is a certain irony in the phrase. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The death of a child is earth-shattering. Nonetheless, the poem talks about transcending that pain by holding on to some powerful truth. I find it very reassuring and I pray it comforts you, dear Sharon. I love you and thank God for the gift of our friendship.

Death is nothing at all

Death is nothing at all.

I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I and you are you,

Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name,

Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference in your tone,

wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow,

laugh as we always laughed

at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Pray smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word

that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effort,

without the trace of a shadow in it.

Life means all that it ever meant,

it is the same as it ever was.

There is unbroken continuity,

why should I be out of mind

because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you

somewhere very near

just around the corner.

All is well

Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830 - 1894

Discovering Anchorage

2011-06-23T10:48:00.003-04:00

Wondering what's out the hotel window.

The breakfast room downstairs. Nice.

"And this, my boy, is where we are at..."

A bracing game of chess to start the day

Sleeping in a slice of history.

Anchorage is a city of luscious flowers

and bears. Grrrrrr...

A little chat with the natives.

The log cabin visitor's center is very cool.

More flowers (I can't help myself)

and more...

more...

and a nice fountain with a hill behind that can be climbed to play in the water.

Aidan said it was his favorite fountain ever, and he's a connoiseur.

Pausing for a picture...

Then on to better things.

Yet more flowers. Where's Waldo?

Reindeer hotdogs sold on a street stand.

The cook's car parked in front of an orca mural.

The immortal Captain Cook. He explored the Pacific from North to South and every point in between, during the same time period as the American Revolution.

He discovered this beautiful bay.

Polar bears safely locked in a glass cage.

Aidan's own polar bear holding a picture of his family.
G'night all. The sun is still out and it's 11pm, but we are going to pull the shades and go to sleep.

Alaska

2011-06-22T13:51:00.001-04:00

Here we are, sitting in the airport in Norfolk, VA, waiting for a delayed flight to Alaska. Grandson Aidan consented to join us, a rather daring decision for an 8 year old boy who loves his mom and dad and his neighborhood with his whole heart. He was supposed to go to GrannyNanny's (paternal grandmother) house for a week of "camp" with his boy cousins, but the dates got all mixed up and when we'd figured it out, we had already bought his $1000 airline ticket. We have a lot to make up for, so hopefully the bears, caribou, moose, wolves, salmon, eagles, and whales will show up in technicolor and ease the loss. We are meeting some very dear friends from Maui, and going to RV our way through the splendor of Alaska.

Joey and Rachel made this trip five years ago, and I just re-read their hilarious blog entries this morning. What vivid storytellers they were on their rough and tumble journey through Alaska. If you are reading this, Rachel, thank you so very much for documenting that journey. I laughed hard this morning.

We are going to scatter some of Joey's ashes in Denali. I miss my boy and I love being in a place where he was so alive.

Fathers and Sons

2011-06-18T22:19:00.003-04:00

Joey and his dad were bound by many shared interests, but nothing so connected them as music. In this picture, they were leading the band at a 50's/60's night at our church a decade or so ago. Joey wore his tye-dye shirt and somehow managed to turn his golden locks into a lion-mane of an afro. I imagine he achieved this look with the aid of several pints of hairspray and gel. No matter how, the picture bears testament to my vibrant kid's flair for the dramatic and zest for life. He was never too cool to have fun.

He learned that from his Dad. Joe filled his kids lives with laughter and adventure. I worried about homework and dentist appointments, but Dad was the good time guy. What a gift he gave us all. He taught us all to Carpe Diem. In hindsight, nothing could have been better. Now we have layers and layers of great memories of a life lived fully. Joey's short life was rich and exciting because of his dad's example.

Here they are at about the same time, without the costumes or the audience. I love the way Joey watched his dad fingering the strings, always learning from him. Joe and Joey both learned to play guitar at 16, and how many nights they spent together doing just this, I cannot count. Despite the generation gap, they shared a love for the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, and Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, all artists who transcend time and place.

This love of music started early. Here they are on a chilly beach vacation, when Joey was still in elementary school. Pre-ipod days, they've got their walkman headphones on and are singing for all they are worth! They made me laugh at times like this, with their exuberant and expressive personalities. But what a great bond it gave them.

Their best nights would be spent jamming with other musicians. Here they are with Dave and Tawny from Maui singing worship music, on one of Joey's college breaks. Oh, how I miss those sweet days of listening to my two special men play together, watching their faces change into that slack expression musicians have, as that musical part of their brains take over. I know Joe misses it even more. I know it hurts him. Yet, we have hope and do not despair. The world to come promises more of these same sweet moments with those we love best, and we are counting on that with all our hearts and souls.

What a gift Joe gave his son. Music was an ever-present companion for Joey. His guitar went where he went. He made many friends with it, but he could also be alone with it. This picture was taken by Rachel somewhere in Latin America, on their year long road trip.

He was in at least two bands, and some of his closest friends were also musicians. He had a career in the music industry, and he loved what he did. He had a lot of poise on stage, and it was a comfortable thing for him to sing for others. He was also hilariously funny at a karaoke club! Here he sang a Hawaiian song with his ukulele at his uncle's wedding. It was the same song he sang with his dad at my 50th birthday party: "In This Life" by Bruddah Iz.

The words hold even more meaning now.

"Let the world stop turning.

Let the sun stop burning.

Let them tell me love's not worth the going through.

If it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart.

The only dream that mattered has come true.

In this life, I was loved by you."

We all felt that way about Joey. We were loved by him. Deeply loved. He loved each one of us and always went to great lengths to spend time with us. He wasn't one of those kids who didn't want to be with his parents. Quite the contrary. It was as if he knew his time was short and he savored every opportunity to be with those he loved.

What do you do when a boy like that is gone? You find a way to stay connected, till you meet again. Joe's way is to listen to Joey's music every day. He takes care of his guitars and ukuleles. He also takes care of Joey's VW van for him. He drives it to keep it charged. He parks it on the grass under the trees on anniversary days. That's some of what a father does while waiting for his reunion with his son.

He remembers the great times they had. They loved being together.

The separation is hard, but because they really lived while they could, it's a relief to have few regrets.

Though we all miss Joey, we are thankful for the sons we do have. These two incredible son-in-laws are brave men, and men of integrity. They have really been there for us. In Joey, they lost a brother themselves. We are so proud of these two men, our daughters' husbands, and wonderful fathers to our grandchildren. Sons who are lent to us by God, they fill some of the space left open by Joey.

They miss their brother-in-law, too.

Their sons miss their Uncle JJ.

Joey was a phenomenal uncle. He loved every moment being with his nephews and nieces.

His cousins, Jeff and Brian, were like big brothers to Joey. They picked on him as he grew up across the street from them, and taught him how to be tough. His Uncle Don, the college prof, was one of his favorite friends, and could always be relied upon for a good conversation. All of these men have also walked through the valley of the shadow of death with Joe. I know how much that means to him.

I love this rare picture of my husband, my father, and my son. Each one a unique man, but all of them intelligent, talented, strong, kind men. They love one another, and draw inspiration from one another. My dad is now 83, and he was the last of the grandparents to see Joey alive. Joey went to visit him on his birthday, one month before Joey went to Heaven, and they had a great day together drinking Joey's homemade brew. My dad had the same red hair as Joey when he was young. I wish I could have found a picture of Joe's dad, too. He is already in Heaven with Joey, and we picture them together in our mind's eye.

Dodger stadium is a place with a lifetime of father-son memories. Joe almost raised Joey at this place--so many games through the years. Plus it provided good two hour round trip drives in the car. Plenty of time to discuss the pertinent issues. Joe spent TIME with his son. He was never too busy for Joey. Never too busy to process life with him. On this Father's Day, near or far, I know Joey would have made some special time for his dad. At the least, they would have talked on the phone, discussing stocks and investments, politics, and music. Perhaps they would have reminisced about the time they won $2400 at the black jack table on the cruise ship and screamed off the back of the ship into the wind. They probably would promise a trip to Vegas together soon--just for the thrill of it. They would have commiserated about the Dodgers, and had a hundred solutions for the owners' marital problems. They would have discussed Joey's business and beautiful Rachel, and JR and Kevin and all his friends, and talked about when he was coming home again. Probably, Joe would have bribed him by offering to pay his fare home, and Joey would have said, "You don't need to do that, Dad".

I know Joe would do anything in his power to have Joey home again. Unfortunately, no amount of money or charm can bring him back. As King David said when his son died, "You can't come to me, but I will go to you". Our only consolation is that Joey is in his true home and he is waiting for us to join him. Who knows when that day will be, but it is indeed coming. We will all go away someday, and then we'll be together. It's just a wait, now, and God encourages us to persevere.

Joey would have ended that imaginary Father's Day conversation with Joe, the same way he always did, "I love you, Dad". I hope Joe can hear those words in his heart today. Despite the wall between heaven and earth, I hope he knows his son loved him, enjoyed him, was always eager to see him, and that he was a success as a father. Joey lived out many of the dreams his father gave him. He lived with passion and zest and valued people over everything else, because his dad did. He was smart and charming and talented, because his dad was. He knew he was loved, because his dad took the time to make it clear to him. By any measurement, Joe was an amazing father to his son.

He makes his wife and family proud and we want to say we love him, too.

Happy Father's Day, dear Joe.

You have built a legacy of faith, love and hope in your sons and daughters and grandchildren.

Proverbs 13:22

A good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children...

Amococo Luminarium

2011-06-17T10:55:00.003-04:00

Last night, Crystal, on the right holding the baby, invited us all to see this traveling art exhibit down at the oceanfront. We went on faith, with no idea of what we were going to see. It is billed as an architectural light and air experience, which only makes sense after you experience it. Here we are at the entry point, getting ready to walk through.

Baby M is pretty fascinated by the whole thing.

The colors change as you walk through the vinyl structure. All the light is natural light coming through the plastic "windows".

All of the colors bounce off of each other, creating fantastic photographs.

The red dome turned us all red. Some of the images came out like negatives.

If I understood color theory better, I could explain it. But since I don't and can't, you can see that Bailey and Baby M are coral.

All her natural golds and greens in her skin, hair and eyes are cancelled out.

There were columns of different colors throughout, all lit exclusively by the sun outside.

This picture captures the three color areas, the blue, the red and the green, all merging behind Steph.

Izzy relaxes on a red wall.

Miss N is captivated. It's a different world inside this place. Soothing, calming, other worldly. The kids loved it. It did wonders for their moods!

Here, Jaime and Baby M are taking it all in. It's womblike and probably brought back some interesting memories for Baby M!

Me, walking through rose petals.

Isn't it surreal?

Surreal or not, the reality of text messages distracts Crystal.

A big purple Aidan.

Stephanie in the rose.

Crystal in the rose.

Izzy looks up at a silver dome.

She and Clare relax and watch the changing landscape surrounding them.

If you see this structure from the outside, it looks like a cross between a bouncing castle and an insect. It is surprising how it transforms when you step inside. After Virginia Beach, it goes to Michigan, and from there to Europe for the rest of the year. If it ever comes to your town, don't miss it!

Signs of Life

2011-06-14T13:23:00.003-04:00

The farm is blooming with life. It is such a pleasure watching each new thing appear, and solving the mysteries of the wild life. We finally figured out why the deer are always in the bramble on the edge of our farm. Wild berries everywhere!

These gorgeous trumpet vines are starting to cover everything. They look so pretty but they are choking out the rest of the growth. A dilemma for sure.

Our green, green front pasture. So beautiful this time of year. On the right side you can see the marsh, it's own separate ecosystem in the tidewater region where we live. It often floods with water from the Currituck Sound in NC. On the left, our lovely old black barn.

A birdhouse and some art on the tree. Only the finest birds hatch here.

Do you see the scary looking green and white plant growing up through the rest of plants? Looks poisonous, but is it? Who can tell me?

An old Coke machine we found in our woods. Very, very fragile and rusty, but we are going to try to reclaim it and use it as a planter near the barn. The other side is still red. I hate when people dump their junk in the woods, but perhaps this find will be a serendipity.

Copper dragonfly. We do love these guys. We have hundreds of them, filitting around us all day, and swarming every evening when the mosquitoes come out. They also appear in shades of red, blue and green, and they are blessedly eating up all the troublesome mosquitoes. Gorgeous and helpful little creatures, they have allowed us to sit outside in the evening without the aid of chemical (ugh) mosquito repellent.

They love to light on the poles in my garden, and they will sometimes step right off the poles and on to our fingers.

Speaking of the garden, I got the pathway stones in place, and look at the veggies and herbs growing in the greenhouse boxes. The screens that cover the greenhouse boxes keep away the deer and the insect pests, and allow me to grow completely organic vegetables. They are called Grow Camps and come from Costco online. The vinyl covers on top will enclose the whole thing when colder weather arrives, and extend the growing and planting season.

Oh how I love these. Love, love, love. A blooming rose can sweep me away. I am hoping they succeed here, because if they do, there will be more. Oh yes.

And here, the first tomatoes are showing. Can't wait to taste them.

Cody is curious about the turtle digging a hole in the woods.

She is quite focused on laying those eggs and seems completely unperturbed by us. We are finding little hatched nests of turtle shells everywhere. Our pond is full of the hatchlings.

Joe and Cody in the Chapel of the Pines. That's what we call this peaceful, symmetrical, cleared place in the center of the woods. It only needs benches, a campfire and a cross.

This is what we see when we look up.

Aidan's tree stump fort is overgrown with a huge variety of unfamiliar plants. I love the way it looks with these beautiful white flowers growing against the rugged stump.

Pots at the front steps. Beautiful shapes and colors that always make me happy. I am a flower girl. No doubt about it. I never tire of them and wish I could buy them all.

Inside the front door, on the entry table: more flowers, an old empty turtle shell we found in the woods, and a bag of bird seed. This is a microcosm of my summer life.

We do get out occasionally. This was last Sunday at Isabel's dance recital at Chrysler Hall. Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to take any pictures during the performance. I raced to take a picture of her in costume when she returned to the dressing room, but she changed so fast, we had to be content with this. The red lips, the flowers, and the stuffed koala in a white tutu, are the only evidence that she did, indeed, have a recital.

Here I am with two of my sunshine girls. My children and grandchildren are simply my reason for living.

Lamentations 3:22-24
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him."

Silent Season

2011-06-10T12:30:00.001-04:00

A portrait of Joey's guitar as it appeared at his memorial service.

Photo and print by Elis MacDonald

I noticed yesterday that I have had a long period of silence on my blog and forced myself to re-engage, if only in the most simple way. I recognized that this is my silent season. When Mother's Day came in May, I braced myself for the season of sorrow and loss that comes in the weeks that follow. Joey's anniversary day came next, and now Father's Day is coming in a week-- a day which is particularly difficult for Joe. I have found myself sinking inside. Zombie-like. Slumping under the weight of it all. Trying not to think or feel too much. Speechless. Unable to put what I feel into words. I force myself to write because it staves off depression when I do. I think I am simply stunned speechless by the sorrow of this world, and my own little corner of it. I ache for those who ache, particularly other bereaved parents, friends who are going through the same sorrows at this time of year. My friend Sharon has her beautiful Angie's anniversary coming soon too, and I am holding my breath for her. There have been a spate of child deaths in our town, and though I don't know any of the families, I know friends of the families. It is overwhelming, to say the least.

Sadness is unavoidable with these parent holidays, and Joey's death day falling right between them both. Three years ago, on this day in June, we were in stunned numbness, being between two memorial services-- packing up the one in LA, that came after Mother's Day and marching toward the one in Maui which was scheduled for Father's Day. We were reeling from the shock of his sudden death, and the devastation of the cremation that followed. We were sorting through Joey's things, everyone of them now a priceless treasure, and packing them up, and giving them away to those he loved. It was excruciating, and beyond doubt the worst days of my life. Only a couple of weeks before, we had been walking on the beach with him. Death is so cruel. At this time of year, all that comes back in an onslaught.

My friend Melissa pointed out to me that this season comes right after Easter, and that there is a mercy in that. I hadn't considered that. Easter is the perfect predicate to my silent season. When others are wrapping up Lent, my Lent is just starting. But the wonder is that Easter is there at all. Hope prevails. I am into Easter now. Very into Easter. Resurrection, hope, reunion, the end of all tears, sorrow and pain. It is really a blessed portal and backdrop for the two months that follow. It helps me to know that for the rest of my life, my silent season will be prefaced by the most hopeful holiday of them all. I will always have that to look forward to, to brace me, to support me, to undergird me with truth that can carry me through the darkness.

How firm a foundation for grief.

John 16:33

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

Summer So Far

2011-06-09T15:25:00.002-04:00

Can you see the baby turtle floating on the turtle raft in our pond? This is where they go to get their tans.

The pond is low. We are 8" short on rain for this time of year. Still there is enough water to sustain the turtles, crawdads, bass, frogs, and dragonfly nymphs that live in the water.

A mama turtle came ashore and dropped her egg in a hole she dug in the ground. It's about the size of a small chicken egg. They have these little nest holes all over the farm.

That one is next to my garden above. The greenhouse is full of asparagus, tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, and peppers. In the past week I have planted the larger bed with roses, surrounded by chives, mint, strawberries and watermelons. Sounds like it might make a nice refreshing summer drink minus the chives.

Another herb box, located outside the kitchen. Can't get enough of these.

Or these...flower pots cheer me up.

Along with Mr. Piggy sniffing the ferns and impatiens.

Mr. Box Turtle is gorgeous but not terribly social.

He peeks out only when necessary.

He has such a customized home to live in. It seals shut and really makes hiding easy.

This is where most of my pennies are going these days.

Can't get enough of these...

Or these...

Or these.

I seem to fill the back of my car with these buckets of sunshine everytime I go out. Strange that a flower could bring so much comfort and peace. I suppose it's the symmetry, the artistry, the obvious craftsmanship... lovely signatures of God's presence.

Holding Hands

2011-05-26T18:36:00.001-04:00

Friends of Friends of Friends

Out

Of a great need

We are all holding hands

And climbing,

Not loving is a letting go.

Listen,

The terrain around here

Is Far Too

Dangerous For That.

~ Rumi

Remembering Joey

2011-05-23T08:47:00.003-04:00

a bouquet at the wall, his memorial spot on Maui

Love written in the sand

flowers in the waters where his ashes were scattered

A Maui sunset. We love you, Joey.

These photos were sent by several of our Maui friends as they honored Joey's memory yesterday. We were so touched by them. There is nothing so comforting as others remembering your precious child, who is so sadly gone from the world. We had an outpouring of love and support yesterday, and it meant everything to us.

The anniversary days are so difficult to get through. It's like being tossed in the dryer and being tumbled up, over and around again, tumbled emotionally, losing our equilibrium (that we have worked so hard to gain), while filled with the soaking weight of deep sorrow. It's strange and crazy. When those days come, we just hang on to one another tightly. It must be walked through, and it can't be done alone.

Beautiful Rachel joined us, flying in from California on Thursday. We all gathered at the farm for the weekend. We sat outside and watched the dogs, and lazily fished in the pond, and snacked from a big bountiful basket that a dear friend had dropped off on our porch, and simply chit-chatted together. We watched videos of years gone by, and witnessed once again the love that Joey poured on each one of us while he was here with us. He had such a big, generous, loving heart. We went to church on Sunday morning, and were deeply comforted by our pastor's incredible message on Heaven. It couldn't have been timed more perfectly. It gave us a lot of strength, and a feeling of being cared for at a most fragile time.

We made Eggs Benedict after church in honor of Joey. It was his favorite breakfast/brunch. Hollandaise sauce is a two-man operation, and Rachel and I shared the task with one of us rapidly whisking the mixture while the other drizzled butter into it. JoAnne poached the eggs, Jaime grilled the Canadian bacon, and Drew made the English muffins. After labor intensive preparations, we all sat down to eat it with our eyes rolling back in our heads in culinary pleasure! Joey would have been in taste-bud ecstasy!

Last night we went to Ruth's Chris for dinner. Joey loved a great meal. We all dressed up for the occasion. Chase wore Uncle JJ's suit and looked so handsome in it, almost filling it up!. We had reserved our own room for the occasion and the staff knew it was a memorial dinner. They were quite sensitive and solicitous. We had an empty place setting at the table where Joey would have sat. We were there for four hours and pretty much closed the place down. We each shared a memory of Joey that we never want to forget. We shared how we have changed in the past three years. We shared the sorrow and tears of having to bear with the loss of someone so intrinsic to our existence. Our youngest, Aidan, wept like it was the day Joey died. It all came back to him mid-sentence, in a fresh rush of pain, and we all cried along with him.

We received many supportive messages and texts from friends. They do so help to alleviate the lonely feeling of grief, and we thank you all from our hearts for walking with us.

Three years. It feels like a lifetime of loss and heartbreak. We are stronger than we were even a year ago. We have learned to carry the weight of grief, like a backpack on each of our shoulders. It rarely comes off, and only tends to do that in a holy place, like a cathedral or out in nature, but it is a more bearable load. On anniversaries, it is so heavy, it must be shared. We appreciate you all for sharing it with us.

If Joey were in Australia, we would be constantly thinking about Australia. We would read the news and look at pictures of that place with new eyes, seeing Joey there. We would wear the clothing of Australia, root for its teams, and feel a connection to the place. But he's in Heaven, so Heaven is where our thoughts go. There are no pictures, but there is one in our mind's eye, and we look at that one often. We dream of the place where he lives now, and know he is content. He is missing us as well, but also reassuring us that one day it will wipe every tear from our eyes. We await that day and live in this world more lightly now.

We love you, beautiful son. Love you so. Carry you with us now, wherever we go. Miss you terrible. Look to the day of reunion with our hearts and souls. Love you forever.

Comforting Scriptures for the Bereaved

2011-05-19T12:38:00.003-04:00

I am missing my son terribly as this anniversary approaches. This morning I am preaching to myself. Scripture is such a comfort when I am beside myself with grief and longing. My son is alive, though the separation is difficult. But he is alive and well and we will be reunited.

Philippians 1:21
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. (NIV)

Death for the believer brings a better life than this earthly existence.

Revelation 14:13

And I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Write this down: Blessed are those who die in the Lord from now on. Yes, says the Spirit, they are blessed indeed, for they will rest from their hard work; for their good deeds follow them!” (NLT)

Those who die in the Lord are blessed. That means happy. They rest (as in "vacation"), they are rewarded for the good they did. And my son did so much good.

Psalm 116:15

Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. (NIV)

God is tender toward his children when they die, and the bereaved who are left behind. The pain is not inconsequential to God.

Romans 14:8

If we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. (NIV)

We belong to him, in life and in death. We are never out of His hand or heart. God's relationship with us is steady.

Philippians 3:20-21

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body. (NIV)

Heaven is our true home. The earthly life is preparation for the life to come, not an end in itself. The best is yet to come. And He says our bodies will be like his resurrected body.

John 11:25-26

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" (NIV)

Anyone who believes in Christ never truly dies. They only die to this world. They shed their earthly skin for an eternal body and live fully on the other shore.

I am thankful for the peace and rest that only God can provide. He is my hiding place, my strong tower, my shield, my Savior, and the everlasting arms that hold my son safely for that great day.

Storms that Perfect

2011-05-16T10:52:00.001-04:00

This is Pastor Greg Laurie's devotional for today. It spoke to me and I thought it might also speak to you. Greg's son, at the far right in the picture, was killed in a car accident 2 months after Joey's death. Greg has been a mainstay for me through our common grief for our sons, and his words have often kept me anchored in the storm. Joey's death has profoundly changed me, and I am hoping at least some of that change is for the better.

MONDAY, MAY 16, 2011

Storms that Perfect

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.
—James 1:2–4

Some storms in our lives are not the result of our disobedience to God; they are the result of our obedience to Him. A good example of this is Job. What was Job doing wrong when all of those calamities befell him? Nothing. In fact, he was doing so well that God was bragging on him in the presence of the angels and Satan: "Have you considered My servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, one who fears God and shuns evil?" (Job 1:8).

Then the attacks on Job began. These were allowed by God to bring about change in his life. So Job went through a perfecting storm. James writes, "My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing" (James 1:2–4). The end game of a perfecting storm is to make us more like Christ.

We may think that when a bad thing happens, it will always turn into a good thing, because Romans 8:28 says, "All things work together for good to those who love God. . . . " While there are some bad things that God turns into good things, there are also some bad things that are always bad things. Let's remember the verse that comes after Romans 8:28: "For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son . . . " (verse 29). (emphasis mine)

God's end game is not to make us happy, but to make us holy. And I believe that if we are holy, we will be happy, ultimately. It is not all about happiness; it is about becoming more like Jesus.

Copyright ©2011 by Harvest Ministries. All Rights Reserved.

That Time Again

2011-05-13T22:32:00.002-04:00

We are approaching the third anniversary of Joey's death. Dread fills my soul and we have all gone back into deep mourning. It is entirely involuntary and defies logic and theology. It simply hurts that he's not here, as if the nerve endings that were numb have all been re-awakened by the thrust of a sharp knife. And though I am convinced Heaven must be the best of all places, I still wish he were here with us. Nothing will ever change that sentiment. The void he left still gapes, empty, lonely and sorrowful. I have hope for the life to come, but this life, I don't think of it in those terms anymore. My dreams for the "good life" died with Joey. Now I leave it to God. My hope is in God. I don't believe we will be disappointed in the end. For now, it's enough to get through our days. To love and be loved...to endure the vicissitudes of life... to keep my faith through the fire...to keep my eyes on Heaven. Achievement enough.

To everything there is a season,

and a time to every purpose under heaven,

A time to be born and a time to die,

a time to laugh and a time to weep.

A time to dance, a time to mourn.

Ecclesiastes 3

Joey's Mother's Day Gift to Me

2011-05-07T09:39:00.005-04:00

Joey sent me this card on Mother's Day a few years ago. I just found it a few days ago. It flooded me with warmth and love and made me smile all over again at this now-precious memory. I love his sense of humor. Joey was always teasing me and poking holes in any of my varied neuroses that he thought worthy.

He took this picture when we were attending a fundraiser for the Crisis Pregnancy Center, an organization of which I had been a founder and director when he was growing up. Jim Caviezel, the actor most noted for playing Jesus in the film The Passion of the Christ, was our honored speaker at this event. He is standing to the left of my shoulder (not to be confused with the priest who is standing behind me).

I have an unabashed admiration for Jim Caviezel-- mostly due to his upright character and his bold Christian witness in Hollywood. Joey loved to tease me about that too--Mama's Crush, he called it. (I hope it isn't sacrilegious to also note how very handsome Jim Caviezel is!) In this shot, I was sidling up to Jim just for the purpose of stealing a picture with him. I was a groupie, but the shy kind. So rather than talking to him, since I knew I would just stammer, stare and possibly drool, I simply moved close enough for Joey to get this shot!

Months went by and I forgot all about it. The picture showed up on Mother's Day attached to a gift subscription to Dwell magazine. Architecture and housing alternatives were areas of common interest for Joey and I; hence, this thoughtful gift. I think he wished he had given more, as he refers to himself as an "economad" and the gift subscription as being "humble". I, of course, never felt that way. Like any mother, I loved the thought and care that went into it. I loved it then and love it now. Love every little thing about it.

(Tears, waves of longing, grief pangs, sniff, sniff.) I love you, beautiful son, and miss you so.

Happy Mother's Day to me.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-06T09:28:00.002-04:00

Mama Zebra and her Baby

Grown don't mean nothing to a mother.

A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown?

What's that suppose to mean?

In my heart it don't mean a thing.

~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987

Patriotic Family Dinner

2011-05-03T11:27:00.000-04:00

We're a proud military family. My daughters and their husbands have made tremendous sacrifices since 9/11. My grandchildren have had to live without benefit of a father at home for many months at a time, for many years. Before my girls married these two wonderful men, none of us had a clue what they were getting themselves into. But there are no regrets. They love their country and are proud to serve. But yesterday it felt a little more worth the sacrifice.

Papa sat on the lawn at sunset and talked with the grandchildren. They were so young when 9/11 happened. Aidan wasn't even born till two months after. But they knew yesterday was significant, and that their family has played an important role in this chapter of American history. Our game last night was actually questions about America. Questions such as, "Do you know all the words to the Star-spangled Banner? (not too well) And who wrote it?" (yes!) and "Who were the top three best presidents?" (Washington, Lincoln, and Bush). Stuff like that.

Our dinner table last night. Yeah, we're truly grateful for the red, white and blue. We are a blessed country.

Fruit salad in a watermelon bowl.

Chicken pot pie casserole with a lattice crust, per Aidan's request.

It was a good evening to pause and reflect on the journey they have all been on.

On Saturday night, we went to dinner to celebrate Sean and JoAnne's 17th wedding anniversary.

On the way home in the car, I asked Sean, "Do you think we will ever capture Bin Laden?"
Only God knew what would transpire 24 hours later.

A military marriage...17 years...an amazing achievement. Too many separations, too many readjustments for deployments and re-entries, too many bedtimes without a father to tuck you in, too many birthdays, Christmases and anniversaries alone. That's just part of why they deserve so much gratitude from us all.

We are really proud of our children. They are true American Heroes.

Isaiah 6:8

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”

Quote of the Day

2011-05-02T11:43:00.003-04:00

"This is for you Tom, for you and everyone of your teammates that reside in Heaven. And this is for everyone of the guys on the ground that finished this mission set forth 10 years ago. For every family that has suffered a loss, every family that has been separated by a deployment, everyone killed on 9/11 and every family changed by WAR. This for you, for us, for our country, for our children!!!!!!!!!"

Written on the facebook page by the wife of a deceased Navy SEAL.

I will keep her anonymous, but I couldn't say it better than this.

My heartfelt gratitude to the American military and their families, for years of selfless sacrifice to make this day possible. Thanks to everyone of you the world is a safer place tonight.

Flood Waters

2011-04-28T13:56:00.000-04:00

This is our ordinarily dry sideyard. We woke up to this watery sight this morning.

The waters are pushing toward the jacuzzi deck and the pump house. Everything has been unplugged. This was 2 hours ago and now the water is half way up to the deck surface.

This is taken looking north from on top of the tree fort. The waters are coming in from the south. All the way from the Currituck Sound in NC, to the Back Bay of VA, and now to our property. I would guess that about 8 of our 11 acres are covered in water right now.

I donned my gear to go do some photojournalism out in the street.

On my way to the street, I captured our front lawn, half of which is now under water.

In the bottom right quadrant, Joe placed a marker in the dry ground. It is underwater now.

This is our street. I know it looks like the Mississippi, but I drove down this street last night. But maybe now not for a few days.

This whole thing has been caused by wind pushing water north. There is no place for it to go, so it overflows into the streets. The ripples are the evidence of the nice strong wind that's been blowing.

My neighbors' driveways are completely submerged. Some of them have lived here long enough to know the wisdom of driving nice, high monster trucks. I wish I had a little rubber dinghy right now.

A look down at my booted fee so you can see how deep the water is. In many places it's 2 feet deep. I am avoiding those places.

This was taken from the street, looking south toward the house. You can see that the street water and the yard water are all the same body of water!

The water must taste good, cuz Cody's been slurping it up all day.

This is way back in our woods. I call this alley of trees the Chapel of the Pines. It's flooded.

From the woods looking out to the barn. Wow. It's close. But not as close as the other waters.

We have a moat around the tree fort now.

And you can see how high the waters have risen on the decks.

Another boot shot to give you a frame of reference.

Our biggest concern: the water is going into the crawl space under the house. Hopefully not enough to damage all the electrical and heating systems that dwell under the house.

The moat and the pond are only 10 feet apart now.

The front yard an hour ago. It is supposed to continue for three more hours. Hopefully that will be the end and the waters will begin receding. Sending up prayers for NO damage, and peace anyway.

Forgiveness

2011-04-25T10:08:00.005-04:00

Very slowly learning this one.

I watched the PBS special on forgiveness last night. Did anyone else see it? Extremely well done. Moving. Thought-provoking. Perfect for an Easter evening.

Some unspeakable things have been done in this world-- betrayals, abandonments, genocides--all of which require painstaking forgiveness to move forward with life. I think maybe there is no greater courage than to forgive when you have been deeply wronged. It is not easy work.

I made a mental list last night and this morning of slights, hurts and offenses I was still carrying and laid them on the altar of forgiveness. What a relief. I also prayed that those who had been offended by me, the ones I am not aware of, would be able to release those things and forgive me. I am truly sorry for messing with anyone's fragile heart.

It's work to keep the accounts in order, but it clears the soul for living life with faith, hope and love.
A new day begins.

Mark 11:25

And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.

Hope

2011-04-18T11:53:00.002-04:00

I have found another way to get my pictures up. Not as easy, but it does the job. This picture was taken in New Zealand, just three months before Joey went to Heaven. We stopped to pick up some globally omnipresent Starbucks, and the clothing store across the street is named "Jay-Jays", which is my son's childhood nickname. Of course, I had to photograph it for him. As an adult, he no longer appreciated the nickname and liked to mock it, and therefore we relished teasing him with it. This was my idea of a joke. Yes, I am that funny.

I look at this picture now, and think, "Who is that smiling woman? I don't recognize her. She looks so happy. Carefree. Light. She has no idea her safe little world is about to come crashing down." Only three months later, my beautiful son's earthly journey was over. No warning, no preparation, no final words. If I had known, I would never have taken that trip. Like the mama kangaroos we saw in the nature preserves in Australia, I would have stuck my own Joey in my pocket, with huge legs and tail falling out, and made him stay there, forever, protecting him, no matter how heavy or uncomfortable it would be for either of us. I have never been good at letting go of my children. My happiest place in the whole world is right smack in their midst. I recognize that this may not be happy or healthy for them, so I restrain myself. Except for the time I went on my daughter's honeymoon to bring her the bag she forgot at home, and sat down to chat while her new husband was waiting for her in the other room. Bad form. But usually I do restrain myself.

It wasn't easy letting go of any of them. But with my son, it was the hardest. I never stopped thinking of him, praying for him, being attuned to him. His two sisters were married to big, strong husbands, and I felt they were safe. But because of Joey's health issues, I always saw him as vulnerable. Even when his friends called him "Joe", and turned to him for guidance and counsel; even when his radiant smile, his smarts, his charm opened doors for him; even with his successful career and his confident opinions, he was always my sweet little Joey. We had a deep mother/child bond and my heart was always listening for his happiness and protection, or for any disturbance in the force. He wasn't a mama's boy, but he was this mama's boy.

Protection. A normal request in a dangerous world. He didn't have a lot of seizures compared to some, but they did sometimes come at inopportune moments. Once in a public pool, where he had time to crawl to safety on the deck; once when he was surfing with his friend Kevin, who knew to grab him and paddle him in to shore; once on a sketchy street outside his USC campus, as he was walking home from class one night, and beautiful strangers stopped to help him; once when he was alone visiting Notre Dame in Paris, and ended up being carried away by a French ambulance and spending the night in a French hospital. (He woke up in a panic the next morning, cursing his bad luck and wondering how he was going to pay the darn hospital bill, only to be told that the bill for everything was $35! One point, but only one, for nationalized healthcare!) He also had a seizure one month before he died, and this one alarmed him enough to call me about it...which he almost never did. He downplayed his seizures, but they were always a matter of prayer for me. Every single day. God protect him, surround him, keep him safe. And God did.

Heaven is as safe as it will ever get. I know that. Feel that. I've made peace with that. But he's AWAY. And it messes with me. When well-meaning friends are telling the bereaved to "get over it", I will say that you cannot imagine the longings that accompany the loss of a child. It is a physical craving. Visceral. In the chest, the gut, and on the skin. No matter what you know logically or theologically, it is a persistent force that doesn't let go. It drives you to sleeplessness, it crawls anxiously around inside your nervous system, it presses for reconnection, and it has to be forcibly blocked out with noise and diversion just to get some relief. How strange and surprising to find this out. It was never mentioned in the grief lectures I attended for my counseling practice. And now I live with that every single day, sometimes blessedly in the background, but often right in my face. And reminders of what might have been, and what will never be, and gatherings and holidays that will never be filled with total joy again.

Easter is coming. It is my new favorite holiday. It used to rank well down the list behind Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, maybe even shady Halloween. As a Christian it was supposed to be at the top of the list, but now it actually IS. Not the eggs and the bunnies and the pastels. Not good enough. That clashes now. Easter and resurrection have taken on such power and meaning to me, that anything that distracts from its preeminence is frivolous. For me now, it's a purple holiday, and velvet, and gold, inside a vast carved stone cathedral with towering spires, and symphonies, and angelic choirs singing alleluias, with music so loud it surrounds and swirls through every inch of space--from the dusty corners to the tiptop of the goldleafed and filagreed central dome. It is Michelangelo's exquisite Pieta, and the heavy presence of God, and hundreds of candles and a radiant sunrise that spills forth through stained glass. It is glorious frescoes with the victorious saints alive, and Christ the ruling King on His throne at the center of it all. Anything less simply doesn't come close to reflecting the meaning of the word Resurrection for me now.

The day Joey died, it came to me in a flash that resurrection was the most important, life-changing truth ever delivered to me. Nothing else compares. Not "love one another", not the power of prayer, not even the forgiveness of sins. But Resurrection. Eternal life. Eternal togetherness. Reunion. Life going on in two separate dimensions simultaneously, and someday all together in our physical bodies again. Eternal life bridges the great chasm between me and my precious son. Jesus' death made death die. It is the greatest gift, and the most hopeful truth in the universe.

It is the only one that can dry my tears and calm my fears. It is the resting place when I am weary from this sorrow-filled planet. It is the new song in my heart. It is the trumpet sound of hope. And though I have to wait, I also know that no matter what goes wrong...in the end, all will be well.

Thank you, Jesus for that HOPE. You didn't have to, but You did.

Norfolk Botanical Garden at Spring

2011-04-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

Tulips

Crab Apple Tree

Bald eagle nest up high

Cherry Tree

Up close

Joe peeking through cherry blossoms

Pansies

Hyacinth

One yellow tulip

Inside

Johnny Jump Ups

Still working on my blogger picture function. This is a test.

"No Man is an Island" by Thomas Merton

2011-04-16T14:23:00.009-04:00

The Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy. Nothing so easily becomes unholy as suffering.

Merely accepted, suffering does nothing for our souls except, perhaps, to harden them. Endurance alone is no consecration. Suffering is consecrated to God by faith- not by faith in suffering, but by faith in God. To accept suffering stoically, to receive the burden of fatal, unavoidable, and incomprehensible necessity and to bear it strongly, is no consecration. Suffering has no power and value of it’s own.

It is valuable only as a test of its faith. What if our faith fails in the test? Is it good to suffer then? When is suffering useless? When it only turns us in on upon ourselves, when it only makes us sorry for ourselves, when it changes love to hatred, when it reduces all thing to fear.

Faith knows that the mercy of God is given to those who seek Him in suffering, and that by His grace we can overcome evil with good. Suffering, then, becomes good by accident, by the good that it enables us to receive more abundantly from the mercy of God. Thus what we consecrate to God in suffering is not our suffering but ourselves.

What after all, is more personal than suffering? The awful futility of our attempts to convey the reality of our suffering to other people, and the tragic inadequacy of human sympathy, both prove how incommunicable a thing suffering really is.

When a man suffers, he is most alone. Therefore it is in suffering that we are most tested as persons. How can we face the awful interior questioning? What shall we answer when we come to be examined by pain? When suffering comes to put the question: "Who are you?” we must be able to answer distinctly, and give our own name. By that I mean that we must express the very depths of who we are, what we have desired to be, what we have become. All these things are sifted out of us by pain. But as we live under the grace of God as His child, our name and our work and our personality will fit the pattern stamped on our souls by the God who made us.

The saint is not one who accepts suffering because he likes it. He is one who may well hate suffering as much as anybody else, but who so loves Christ, that he will allow His love to be proved by suffering. If we love God and love others in Him, we will be glad to let suffering destroy anything in us that God is pleased to let it destroy, because we know that all it destroys is unimportant. We will prefer to let the accidental trash of life be consumed by suffering in order that His glory may come out clean in everything we do.

If we love God, suffering does not matter. Christ in us, His love, His Passion in us: that is what we care about. Pain does not cease to be pain, but we can be glad of it because it enables Christ to suffer in us and give glory to His Father by being greater, in our hearts, than suffering would ever be.

A selected reading condensed from No Man is An Island by Thomas Merton, 1915-1968

Thomas Merton was a Trappist monk and a Catholic writer who authored 70 books.

Blogger's note: I do not really understand the meaning of suffering in a Christian's life. I have spent the past almost three years trying to make sense of it. I have done some reading by Catholic writers that have helped me more than anything else I have read. This is one such reading. I post this for myself, and perhaps others who are searching for meaning. I love that he understands the isolation of suffering. It is difficult to explain suffering to others. It is also difficult to explain it in a way that is healing. I give him credit for his insights and his courage to tackle the most difficult of all human subjects. He at least dares to venture into the unknown and I appreciate that very much. I am still sorting it all out for myself, and likely will be for a very long time.

Disappearing Act

2011-04-10T10:06:00.003-04:00

My wonderful pictures are disappearing from my blog after I post them. Do any bloggers out there know why this is happening? I need help...

Rob Bell's "Love Wins"

2011-03-29T10:44:00.013-04:00

Rob Bell and the book jacket for Love Wins

First, let me share what I liked about the book:

1. I am glad he wrote this book. It is the single most important topic of consideration for every single human being living in this world. The title is excellent and intriguing. The book is rightfully generating a furor of controversy and that's a good thing. Another boring, dusty theology book couldn't have created the fertile ground for discussion that this provocative book and title have generated. CNN, Fox, ABC, NBC, CBS, the morning shows, youtube...fantastic debate has made it to the airwaves, and I have been wonderfully surprised that so many are engaged. I've never heard these topics make prime time in all my decades, so I would say that's a breakthrough of epic proportions. Bravo to Rob Bell for that.

2. I love his wide view of grace and God's mercy. That is, after all, what we are talking about when we say it's the gospel-- "Good News". I found his words on this topic to be his most eloquent and inspiring in the entire book. He debunks myths and bad thinking, and cracks the egg of grace wide open. He allows it to be a mystery instead of a formula. What he says here is quite beautiful. Grace has been bought by the blood of Christ and He can spend it anyway He likes...and He seems to do just that, as Rob points out through a variety of New Testament stories. A quick overview of New Testament passages confirms that there are, indeed, lots of ways to come to Christ. God is dynamic and personal. And Jesus tells us that we will be surprised at who will and will not be in Heaven. Ultimately, it is clear that Love Wins out in the end. Much more than any of us deserve.

3. Rob's questions, many that he himself answers imprecisely, inadequately, and naively are, nonetheless, fantastic, insightful questions. He is providing such rich fodder for the best thinkers, writers, teachers, preachers among us. I hope they will tackle them and give us better, more biblical, more rigorous answers than Rob has given to this point. Nonetheless, I salute him for asking them. That is the first and most important stepping stone in the process of knowledge, and he has kicked the ball into play. It feels portentous, like some very good things will come as a result of what he has done.

4. I love Rob's emphasis on the word ALL. He repeats a number of scriptures that say God seeks all people and will restore all things. He makes us really think about what that actually means. Does God get His way? I honestly admit I don't know how it works, I don't know the Greek and Hebrew, but I do love that it can't simply be ignored. God's great heart reaches out to save everybody and everything and how wonderful to be reminded of that again.

Those are some of the strengths of the book. The weaknesses? These are my personal objections to some of what he's written, from a layman's perspective without the benefit of a theology degree.

1. His view of the afterlife is such a mish-mash hodge-podge of verses on the new heaven and earth, paradise, the temporary heaven, hades, the temporary hell, the millenial age, the ongoing earth, that you wonder if he has ever taken a course in systematic theology. He makes bad sense out of something that Randy Alcorn in the book Heaven has already made much more clear. When you have an essential beloved person in heaven, you spend a considerable amount of time sorting what you can about the afterlife from scripture. On the basis of Rob's sloppy research, he has obviously never had a pressing need to do just that.

2. His argument that God wouldn't save a few and send billions to hell for not saying the "right" prayer is overwrought hyperbole. It makes the church look stupid, which isn't kind of him. I've never actually heard a preacher say a thing like that...at least no one that anyone is listening to. Jesus Himself said the road to life is narrow and few find it, while the way to destruction is broad and many go there-in. The terms, "few" and "many" are general terms that have no mathematical component to them, and to attach "billions" to it is a disservice. It causes people to stop paying attention to what Jesus said, (which was meant to inspire us to ask ourselves if we have entered by the narrow or broad gate --a question to which each of us intuitively know the answer), and to begin ridiculing the concept.

3. Rob's insinuation that Christians don't take care of social justice issues because we don't see the earth as ongoing, is a huge error. Christians are the largest, most generous supporters of human needs causes on the planet, whether they believe the earth will "continue on" or not. That generosity is motivated out of love and compassion, not simply trying to fix this place. I think it's pretty clear that this place will not arrive at "fixed". Revelation tells us it will eventually be consumed by fire and there will be a new heaven and a new earth. The demise of the earth is a bad chapter in a book that has a shining, happy ending, but loving the people on this earth has eternal value.

4. The most personally offensive to me? Rob's discussion of life and death as the cycle through which all good things come. His reasoning is that life and death are a cycle since creation, and therefore part of God's great plan. He uses the example that the plant has to die to give us life; the firefighter has to die to save someone else's life. I had a hard time with his shallow thinking on this topic. Having lived through the death of someone essential to my life, I don't see death in general as the mechanism that God uses to restore the earth. He used One Death, Christ's death, to make sure that death died and He tells us that death is the last enemy that will die. Death is an enemy, not a friend. An aberration, not the original plan. It is a result of fallenness, a consequence with which we are forced to live, not a blessing to the planet. How did he miss this great fundamental truth in seminary?

5. My last objection to the book is an assessment about Rob's character. I sense that Rob has never really suffered. He grew up loved and sheltered in an intact, Christian family. He is white, educated, and wealthy. He is a fantastically gifted communicator, he has a large and successful church, he appears to be happily married, he has healthy children, he is still young. How close has evil ever come to him? How much has he lost in life? It is not his fault he hasn't suffered. Who would wish that on anybody? But I have to say that he lacks experience and credibility with those who have suffered, and there is a blitheness in tone when people haven't suffered that can be instantly picked up on the radar screen by those who have. While he is compassionate toward the hurting, there is no indication that he has ever suffered enough personal pain to be left longing for relief and comfort and heaven. If he had, I daresay he would view this tired earth, and the glorious heaven to come, through somewhat different eyes.

Just a thought. My small two cents. What do you think of Love Wins?

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself. —Philippians 3:20-21

Dinner Conversation

2011-03-19T08:28:00.010-04:00

When I host our weekly Family Dinner, I want it to be more than simply eating food. I want it to be a meaningful event for our whole family. Memorable. Substantial. Soul nourishing. I invest those hours cooking and cleaning up so that I can create togetherness and teachable moments for my whole family. I see this wonderful table time as an opportunity to talk about real things with our children and grandchildren and to really connect with their hearts and minds. Since we have some very funny people sitting around our table, the challenge is to integrate the serious stuff long enough to get them all thinking a little more deeply.

In the past year, there has been a bit of trial and error trying to find a formula that works with the wide range of ages, temperaments and attention levels that surround our table. This is where I am settled for now.

First of all, the cornerstone of the evening comes from scripture. One of the grandchildren or I will read a Bible verse from this little book, and start the discussion by asking what the verse means. We go around the table and listen to the various opinions on the meaning and applications of the verse. The discussion is generally short but engaging.

Next, following the same procedure, one of us asks a question from this book. This one is usually a personal response to the question, a reflection of the speaker's personality or uniqueness.

This requires listening, and honoring the varied responses. Not an easy task with a bunch of talkative and opinionated teens and pre-teens, but they are getting better and better at honestly expressing themselves and respecting one another's uniqueness.

Finally, after dinner is over, we play an interactive game. This one was given to us by Rachel for Christmas. The grandchildren LOVE this game. It provides many opportunities for hilarious answers and endless potty talk. Sometimes we have to outlaw all answers with the word "poop" in them, just to keep it from deteriorating into total silliness. Other times we play "Spoons", "Assassin", or put together a tray of random objects that are passed around the table and from which a group story is spun with each person keying off of their chosen object. That one is usually very funny too. We try to be spontaneous and creative with the games. As homework loads increase, the game time decreases. Still, even a half hour of games is fun for all of us.

When the weather improves and the sun goes down later, we will likely play softball or tag or something physical outside. I find that it is essential to have something totally fun and carefree to counterbalance the serious talk. As they say, a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.

My hope is that years of these meals, with interesting conversations and fun times will, in time, accumulate into something beautiful and sacred:

the creation of wise, loving, compassionate, fun-loving, faith-filled young adults who know who they are, where they have come from and where they are going... children that grow up to be adults who bring love and goodness into the world.

Anyway, that's my plan.

Psalm 71:17

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.

Devastation in Japan

2011-03-14T11:02:00.009-04:00

A miracle: 65 year old tsunami victim, floating on the roof of his house,

rescued from 10 miles out at sea.

Miracles: like you, I am praying for more of these. These are the stories of grace within the larger story of suffering and devastation. And where there is God, there is grace. Where there is suffering, there is God. He hears the prayer of the brokenhearted.

There was a time in history when this kind of catastrophe would be viewed as anger and punishment from the gods. In modern times, people simply say that this devastation proves there is no God. But Jesus prepared us when He said, "In this world you will have trouble; but take heart, I have overcome the world". This world is broken, deteriorating, and sentenced to decay and death. This tsunami is part of that process. But God's love is steadfast, even in the midst of this terrible tragedy. We are all His beloved children and we know that His love never fails. Even in suffering, He is present and at work.

Two of my friends wrote about Japan today. Robin's post, "Imagine", invites us to ponder what the Japanese are waking up to this morning. Rather than looking away, or saying, "I don't want to think about it", this post encourages us to take some time to think about our friends on the other side of the world who are suffering so intensely right now. Karen posted two prayers today that hit the heart of the matter, and you can offer them up to God on behalf of Japan by reading HERE.

Psalm 46:1-3
God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surge.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Saturday Mornings

2011-03-09T07:20:00.003-05:00

What's Aidan doing?

He is doing what we are all doing now on Saturday mornings...

Watching girls in blue with netted sticks chase balls up and down the field in the cold.

While fathers coach from the sidelines and dogs wait impatiently for love.

Our lacrosse girls.

These BFF's have their fingers crossed for a winning season!

Next week I'm bringing blankets and thermoses of hot cider, hot chocolate, and hot coffee.

Let the games begin.

When Your Child Dies

2011-03-06T22:49:00.009-05:00

When your child dies, you fall into a hole of grief.
You look up from the bottom and feel suspended far away.
The world you held in your hand and gazed at in wonder floats away.
Your dreams grow cold along with your child,
Never the same again.
Betrayed by optimism
Hope freezes deep inside of you.

Separation anxiety covers your skin.
It compresses your chest so you cannot breathe.
It holds you down till you say surrender.
It grabs your spine and hooks your neck
and throbs inside your brain.
Your jaws ache from clenching it back.

After a time, you slowly begin to thaw.
You wonder how you are still alive
How did that happen?
How did you plow into that iceberg and watch the ship sink and go down with it into those icy waters and still have
a beating heart?
That is a miracle.
Not the one you wanted, but the one you got.

Now you are different.
You are quiet where you once talked.
You are uncertain where you once had answers.
You are relentlessly lonely and gather all your children to you
Except the one you will not see again
for what seems a too long time.
Too long for comfort.

Where is the comfort?
Where is God?
Does He come near this forlorn place?
Does He check in, assess the situation, shake His head in dismay?
Does He send angels?
Or does He sit next to me and lean in and watch my heart break over and over again and weep for the sorrow of Paradise Lost?

He says He is present.
He says He never leaves.
Never forsakes.
In the darkest darkness
In the coldest cold
He is there.
In the frozen wasteland of my heart that dares not feel a thing
When my soul crumples and curls in cold pain
He is there.

I wish I could see Him.
I wish I could hear Him.
I wish I could ask Him.
I wish I could feel Him.
I wish none of this was my life.
But it is.

And He is present.
Invisible, silent, brooding, present.
Maker of mothers and children
Of that sacred bond
Who had a mother too who held Him.
Father of all
And me His child.
Hold me.
Who knows so much sorrow
And loss.
And dares to risk more
To have my whole-hearted heart.
Be present with me.

Family Dinner: Mac Nut Fish

2011-03-04T10:24:00.013-05:00

Drew and Sean are relaxing before dinner.

Though it's nice to end the work day and gather together, it's still a big challenge getting everyone to our house at 6 pm. I put out appetizers to encourage early arrivals. If you are late, there is nothing but crumbs left.

Papa is a multi-tasker. He drinks a beer, pets the dog, AND chats with his girls, all at the same time. He's quite a man.

Jaime always makes us laugh. She's a comedienne. JoAnne loves dogs, and that includes Cody, our new/old very well-behaved German Shepherd.

Dinner is sitting on the counter, chilling while we wait for the grandchildren to put down the ipad and join us. Harummph! I hate it when hot food gets cold because people are preoccupied. It's a real cook crazy-maker! But enough of that.

I'll tell you what you are seeing on that counter in the shots below.

This is dessert. Turtle brownies which will be the foundation for brownie sundaes after dinner.

An army load of white and wild rice.

Irresistible baby asparagus, baked in the oven. I know, I make this a lot. We all love it.

And a healthy and colorful mixed salad. This one has avocado chunks and parmesan shavings on top...with rich blue cheese dressing. I usually try to make two vegetable dishes. Lots of nutrients.

I am stepping back in time here to show you how I made the fish. It's my favorite way to eat fish, and I got the recipe from my dear friend, Pastor Craig, who lives on Maui. It requires eggs, panko flakes for breading the fish, and macadamia nuts for the "encrusted" part.

I spread the panko flakes in one pan, and the mac nuts (after chopping them into small bits) into another. The egg batter is out of the picture, but it's the first thing into which you dip each piece of fish.

I used flounder, but it was too thin and delicate. This recipe does better with more substantial fish, such as Ahi (tuna). Just so you know. The crust was still delicious but the delicate fish cooks more quickly than the crunchy crust. After dipping the fish in the egg mixture, dip it in the panko flakes, then press the mac nuts onto both sides of the fish. Bake it in a pan with a light layer of olive oil, in a 400 degree oven for about 10 minutes.

This is how it comes out. Golden and crunchy. Couldn't be easier! I made a mango beurre blanc sauce to drizzle over it. It was deliciously delectible and completes the recipe. That's a simple sauce of butter, cream and mango juice, cooked till slightly thickened.

So that's it. Family Dinner this week. At least the food part of it!

I will write about our "Evening Program" next, for those of you who have been wondering.

Inquiring minds want to know...

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

2011-03-03T10:00:00.002-05:00

The Band Perry

This family trio, all of them in their early 20's, are country music's brightest new act for 2010. Their platinum song is haunting, melancholy and memorable, and I'm feeling sad today. Sometimes you just need something that releases the pent up tears that are weighing down your heart. This is my cathartic poetry for today. I dedicate it here to my dear friends, Karen, Sharon, Becky and Chris who mourn the loss of their beautiful daughters. You can hear it on youtube.

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life
Music and Lyrics by The Band Perry

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh, uh oh

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She'll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little, cold finger, I’ve
Never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand, there’s a
Boy here in town says he’ll, love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

So put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when your dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Uh oh (uh, oh)
The ballad of a dove (uh, oh)
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need them, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

So put on your best, boys, and I’ll wear my pearls

Walking Cody

2011-02-28T11:15:00.003-05:00

Meet our new dog, Cody. He is a 6 year old German Shepherd and we adopted him after his former master died of cancer. He never left his master's side throughout his illness, and Cody lost 20 lbs afterwards from missing him so much. Cody is recovering now and has bonded very tightly with Joe. He notices me only when Joe isn't around. He is an intelligent and loyal dog with good ears and a big bark (which makes me feel safe). And since he was a former show dog, he is beautifully trained and well-mannered, too (which makes me enjoy having him around).

Every night before his dinner, he goes for a long walk down to the Back Bay with Joe. This is Joe's favorite walk, and now it's become Cody's too. Oh, how they love these walks. For Cody, it's a big sniff fest! He trots along so joyfully and explores with abandon. For Joe, it's a time to commune with God and nature. It's good for both of their souls.

Here they are in the woods along the road. So much to see and explore.

I just love tagging along with my camera. I am eager to see it all change with the coming of Spring.

A small creek to cross over with the Back Bay beyond.

Cody isn't afraid to get his paws wet. We have to wear our boots.

Sunset in Tidewater Country.

Paradise for a dog and his man.

Mikela's Dedication

2011-02-25T11:56:00.005-05:00

Last Sunday, Brian and Crystal's baby, Mikela, was dedicated to the Lord. In Baptist churches, we don't practice infant baptism. We practice believer's baptism. That means that only people who have willingly put their faith in Christ for the forgiveness of sins and eternal salvation undergo baptism. So that also means that little babies, who have not yet acquired the capacity for making such decisions, are not baptised.

I know this is worrisome to those who believe you must be baptised to be saved, but we also believe that all people are saved if they die before they reach an age of accountability. We also believe that it is faith in Christ, and not baptism per se, that "saves" people.

I was born into a Lutheran family, so I was baptised as a small child. But when I made a decision to give my life to Christ as a teen, I chose to be baptised again--believer's baptism. This was a bit disconcerting to my mother, but since I was getting baptised and not, say, selling drugs, it sort of blew over as an issue of contention.

Isn't Mikela precious in her ruffles and polka dots?! She is such a doll baby and we love her.

When our church has a child dedication service, it is geared toward the parents and the church community. It begins with the parents dedicating themselves to raising their child in the faith--to being an example of Christian living and love and faith in their own home and in the nurture of their child. The community is dedicating itself to being an example of love and faith as well, and most importantly, being willing to spend the time and money at church required to build all of our children in their growing faith.

My daughter, Jaime, and her husband, Drew, are godparents to Mikela. They stood up with Brian and Crystal on Sunday morning, expressing their commitment to Mikela's well-being for the rest of their lives. With military families being separated from their biological family members, they do a lot of "adopting" of new extended family. That is the case here. None of us can do life alone, at least not well. The wise find good, kindred, trustworthy souls with whom to make the journey. Friendship has got to be one of the sweetest encouragements of life.

Here they all bowed their heads and prayed for the strength and obedience to be the very best kind of loving, caring people for Mikela.

I can't think of anything that matters more in life than this.

Matthew 19:14

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

Precious Gifts

2011-02-22T16:03:00.005-05:00

These are my friends, Nick and Sharon. Their beautiful daughter, Angie, passed away just a couple months after Joey. Less than a year later, one of our mutual friends on Maui, our beloved Pastor Kit, also passed away. These three deaths and our shared grief connected us in heart and subsequently by email. Last year on our Maui trip we were finally able to meet them in person.

Sharon and I have become part of the mother's club that no one wants to join. We often grieve together through our correspondence, as well as share our hope for the world to come. No one knows a mother's heartbreak like another one who is also walking through the valley of the shadow of death. It is a very comforting bond, and Sharon has been a very dear sister to me these past two and a half years. One of Sharon's ways of comforting herself is to make things by hand. She is a talented cook and both Christmases sent us boxes full of yummy sugary deliciousness. She also likes to sew. When you are grieving, having a project that keeps your hands busy is very soothing to the tempest in your soul.

Here are some of the things she sent me this last Christmas:

Hand-embroidered "days of the week" tea towels. I love this kind of towel and love the cute puppies embroidered on them. They are so absorbent. (Monday and Thursday are in the wash. I admit I don't always use them in order :)

Sharon also makes gorgeous quilts and says she feels best when she is quilting. She made one for herself out of some of her daughter Angie's clothing. I was able to see it last year, and know it's a great source of comfort for her to be able to wrap herself in that quilt. What a beautiful way to remember her daughter and keep her close.

The brown one above is in memory of Pastor Kit. It reflects his coloring and his bright eyes and smile, and his warm and engaging personality so perfectly. His faith shone brightly through cancer treatment, and he left this world in a blaze of hope and inspiration. Kit was one of the most incredible men that we all have all been privileged to know, so this will hang in our barn in loving memory of this great man.

This purple, blue and black quilt Sharon made in honor of our Joey. It reminds me of his travels through Alaska, and the pictures of him standing in front of steep purple mountains with black outcroppings and snowy peaks and glacial ice trails. His last picture in his memorial slide presentation shows him standing in just such a place with his arms opened wide to each side. I love being reminded of how much he loved those lofty, majestic places and imagine him experiencing much the same beauty in Heaven.

Sharon's final gift was this beautiful picture frame charm. It now holds a picture of Joey when he was three years old. I love this picture of him proudly holding a cat in his arms. It hangs from an initial necklace given to me by another treasured friend this Christmas.

Sharon is one of the dear bereaved mothers with whom I have linked arms on my journey. I cannot go it alone and am so grateful for kindred spirits who understand without judgement as we work to find our way into a new life. That is the biggest gift of all.

Gal 6:2

Bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Justin Bieber Fever

2011-02-20T14:57:00.007-05:00

Darling granddaughters and their adorable friends

at the movies

with the 3D glasses still on

with the lenses popped out

making hearts with their hands...

for this sweet little 16 year old heart-throb
(multi-millionaire)

with the swingy hair

whose got rhythm in his soul

and says his prayers before going on stage

and still loves his mama better than anyone

this is what true love and devotion looks like

when you are 11 or 12

and you just watched "Never Say Never" on the big screen

and you just can't hold it in any longer.

In my day, it was Paul McCartney...

he was a bit older than Justin

but he had the same hair-do

and could make the girls cry

just. as. much.

Choosing to SEE

2011-02-18T13:35:00.008-05:00

Choosing to SEE --A Journey of Struggle and Hope

by Mary Beth Chapman

I finally got to read this book. I opened it this morning and finished it an hour ago. I cried my way through it. Mary Beth Chapman's adopted Chinese daughter, Maria, died the day before Joey died, two and a half years ago. Mary Beth tells the story of her youngest child being accidentally run over by her teenaged son and the impact of this accident on the entire family. Her husband, Steven Curtis Chapman, has always been one of my favorite Christian recording artists, and I have followed his career for two decades. I remember waking up to the news on that Thursday, May 21, 2008 and reading of their daughter's death. I was shocked and filled with sorrow, wondering how such a devastating thing could happen to such a wonderful family. The next day, I got a phone call of my own that broke my heart and sent me staggering to my knees.

Fast forward to a month later, after our son's memorial services, when their family appeared on Larry King Live-- they sounded so much like us. No pat answers. No neat little boxes. Just transparency and pain and perplexity...and continuing hope in God. And tattoos. They were our family's inspiration.

Since then, I've been reading Mary Beth's blog. She has a gift for writing about the heartbreak and turmoil that their family has been plunged into, and her hope in God that He is enough even in that deep loss. I identified strongly with her words--her restless longings for her daughter, her anxiety, her anger, her doubts, God's silence, and her courage to push forward. I love her honesty. Not all Christian leaders are so open about their struggles, and not all bereaved mothers grieve in a way with which I can identify. But she is one broken hearted mama who understands and validates me in my own grief journey. I am so thankful for her openness. It's been a lifeline for me.

The book is a deeper extension of her blog. She gives the back story on her childhood, marriage and family. She shares the harrowing aftermath of the death of a child...the sleeplessness, marital tension, numbness, and futile attempts to fix things. She shares her tendency to want to control her life, to protect herself from pain, and of second-guessing God as he overwrites her plans with His own. I love the way she points out what she calls "bread crumbs" on the path, little signs that God is present in their sorrow, and in control of what appears to be such random chaos. I was touched that they had the same two songs at Maria's memorial that we had at Joey's, only in their case the actual artist, Matt Redman, was there to sing them.

Here is a quote from one of Steven's songs, written about Maria. I love this song:

Out of these ashes

Beauty will rise

And we will dance among the ruins

We will see it with our own eyes

Out of these ashes

Beauty will rise

For we know joy is coming in the morning

Beauty will rise.

I am so grateful for families who openly share their sorrow. It helps me bear my own.

Plumbing Problems

2011-02-15T15:09:00.007-05:00

We bought this beautiful farm a few months ago. But, honestly, it's only beautiful on the outside. Underneath that shiny veneer, it sometimes feels like nothing but problems. We think the man who built it forgot to take construction 101. Or he cheated on the final. Or he didn't really believe that the house building rules applied to him. And we find ourselves with the unwelcome task of cleaning up his mess. We bought it "as is", but sometimes, even after people do the research, they still don't know what they are getting themselves into--at least that's what we are finding out. Charlie Sheen's ex-wives might say the same.

So far, we've redone the electrical system, rebuilt the heating system, added propane for the stove and fireplace, and added a new water heater. The learning curve has been expensive. Today it's all about plumbers and septic systems and pooling water and high water tables and trenches everywhere and... blocked pipes. Ugh. I will spare you the pictures.

But you know, in the midst of it all, I am here to proclaim: God bless the plumbers of the world!!

They deserve EVERY dime they charge for doing a job I shouldn't couldn't wouldn't want to do!

So how many life lessons can I extract from today's experience?

1. Beware a pretty face. They can be hiding some nasty stuff.

2. Don't do a job you aren't qualified to do. It just messes up everyone coming behind you.

3. Don't sell your second-rate goods for first rate prices; it really ticks people off.

4. Thank God for the trained professional. They will save you time, trouble and money in the end.

5. Life is not fair. This is not a perfect world. Get over it and on with it.

Oh, dang. That one again.

Beautiful Post by My Friend Karen

2011-02-11T13:50:00.010-05:00

Karen Gerstenberger

"It is hard to find words adequate to the complex emotions involved in surviving a child’s passing. I wrote on a fellow grieving mom’s blog posting, regarding the anniversary of her daughter’s passing: “I think I understand…because I go through these changes, too. It’s okay, it’s not okay; it’s bearable, it’s unbearable; we are building a life around the hole she left, I am falling into the hole where she was. I miss her; I have to let her go. It is a crazy reality; am I going crazy to be living with it? No, I am doing what thousands have done before me. I am honoring her memory, and weaving it into my life, day by day, as beautifully and gracefully as I am able. And I think you are doing this, too. She will always be the one, the only, A. – and we will remember her with you.”

From "Presence", 2/10/11

My friend Karen is the mother of Katie, a beautiful 12-year-old girl who passed from cancer in 2007. Karen wrote yesterday at a site called "Hopeful Parents". Her article, called "Presence" , explains in practical terms how people can be a support to families during times of sickness and bereavement. Karen is a beautiful, thoughtful writer and the article was particularly insightful on a subject that requires great sensitivity.

She gave me permission to quote and link it HERE. Please read on. You won't regret it. If you are wondering how to be there for suffering families, this article will explain it all to you.

Missing My Maui Mornings

2011-02-08T10:58:00.003-05:00

purple orchid against a waterfall

out on the beach, a catamaran prepares for a morning sail

the remains of my perfect island breakfast: a juicy papaya with lime juice, a cinnamon roll and hot tea

the flamingos are eating breakfast too...

I don't believe there is a lovelier way to start the day anywhere in the world.

A Maui Day

2011-02-01T14:00:00.003-05:00

breakfast at the beach with a view of Kaho'olawe in the distance

a barefoot walk in the sand...

and on the soft green grass, next to the big blue ocean, under the shady keawe trees...

and at the end, a catamaran silhouetted by the sunset.

Ahhh, paradise.

Gold Star Mother

2011-01-24T14:11:00.010-05:00

Gold Star Mothers are moms who make the ultimate sacrifice for their country...they are those precious mothers who have lost a son or daughter during active military duty. I say "the ultimate sacrifice", because I don't believe there is a mother alive who would not rather die than lose a beloved child.

The picture of the plaque is taken from the Gold Star Mothers memorial in Florida.

We have a Gold Star mother living in our former home in Southern California, the same home where we raised our son, Joey. This week is the anniversary of her son's death. The house is a shrine to her beautiful son, and we found it deeply moving as we walked up to the porch to pay our respects.

Above is her son's weathered Marine cap hanging on a flag staff.

This is the Gold Star that was hanging on the window as we stepped inside the door. It reads:
Always In Our hearts
LCpl Anthony Melia
Our Guardian Angel

This is Vicki, our beautiful Gold Star Mom. She reluctantly allowed me to photograph her. Don't let the smile fool you. All bereaved moms have learned to put on that brave face. She is still very much grieving the loss of her precious boy, and I know how deep that pain runs. It is a coincidence that the picture is red, white, and blue, but I think so very fitting for this tender, precious mom who honored her son's desire to become a Marine, knowing the personal risk involved.

Around her neck are Anthony's dog tags and one with his picture. She said this picture oddly fell off the chain the day her beautiful 21 year old son died, though it never has before or since.

Vicki is a testimony to the sustaining power of a deep faith in God. She has learned in the past four years to entrust her son to God's care, and herself to His guidance. Her life is so changed now and she sees the world through different eyes. Her greatest desire is to serve. Her greatest joy was being able to go to Haiti after the earthquake, to hold and feed starving traumatized babies.
She said it gave her a taste of her son's war experience, as she lived in tents, without plumbing or showers, with meager food, and sleepless nights. It was an essential connecting point with him. She fell in love with those little children and hopes to go again.

This is the sign in front of the house.
Freedom Isn't Free
Our Unforgotten Hero
L Cpl. Anthony Melia
January 27, 2007

Inside their home, Anthony's honors and memorabilia are every where. In the corner, his boots and helmet. In the trophy case, his precious ashes.
Anthony is a true American Hero.
Thank you for giving all, Anthony and Vicki and Melia Family.
We honor the pain and suffering of your sacrifice.

On the walls, beautiful, beloved Anthony. Bereaved families are very similar, I think, military or not. Pictures of our cherished child are everywhere. Those who put their hope in Christ, like this heartbroken family and our family, are counting down the moments as we await the day of resurrection and reunion.
We worship a Savior who knows about the pain and suffering and sacrifice.

In the driveway, another memorial on their vehicle. You can't seem to get enough of these memorial places when you've lost a child.
It says to me, "Please don't forget our beautiful son who gave his life for your freedom."
And we won't.

John 15:13

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.