Monday, February 28, 2011
Walking Cody
Friday, February 25, 2011
Mikela's Dedication
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Precious Gifts
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Justin Bieber Fever
Friday, February 18, 2011
Choosing to SEE
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
I am so grateful for families who openly share their sorrow. It helps me bear my own.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Plumbing Problems
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!!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Beautiful Post by My Friend Karen
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.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Missing My Maui Mornings
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
A Maui Day
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...
Monday, January 24, 2011
Gold Star Mother
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. 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.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Happy Birthday Beautiful Daughter
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Birthday Girl Love
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Clare's 1/11/11 Birthday
These are two of my three adorable granddaughters. They are so close, it's hard to talk about one without talking about the other one. The picture was taken about six years ago when they were first graders. My goodness, how they have changed. Clare is taller than me now. Izzy deplores the curls (that we all adore) and straightens her hair now. What hasn't changed is this: they are still best friends forever. We're talking total and complete BFFs. To infinity and beyond. They are cousins, they are in the same grade, and they can't live without each other (unless they are having an argument) (but the BFF part is: they always make up. quickly. )
Blue-eyed Clare turns 12 today. And it's her magic birthday--the one where all the date numbers line up. (At 1:11 today, I am going to text her beautiful mom.) I say the magic is in her gentle heart. She's a compassionate, caring, kind, helpful, thankful, curious and creative little girl. A delight. She makes us all smile. Oh, and those sparkly blue eyes. They are pretty magical too, especially in a family of mostly hazels, greens and browns. She got 'em from her grandpa Mike, and they match his to a tee. When she was a baby, her mama used to sing "Pretty Blue Eyes" to her.

Here they are again. This was two years ago. Solid BFFs. They are lucky they have each other. We all need a friend who is this squeezably close.
Clare got to choose her birthday dinner, and she asked for ravioli. We also grilled some shrimp, but the kids said they tasted like hotdogs. (hmmm. I guess I need a new recipe.)
Here's the ravioli. It's got a creamy tomato-basil sauce. Clare liked it-- once she removed the tomatoes.
Obviously, the big challenge with family cooking is making something that everyone, young and old, likes to eat. Not too gourmet, not too "kiddie-food". Something in between that is still yummy.
And sauteed zucchini.
Everyone likes zucchini, but I found out last night that it is not Clare's favorite vegetable. That would be corn. It's hard to make a meal out of ravioli and corn, I think. But she did get her requested ice cream sundaes for dessert, and that put a smile on her face.
They are sitting together as usual, waiting to open Clare's pile of presents. They giggle a lot, and speak their own improvised language, and roll their eyes at the same things. Those little girls are getting sooo grown up. Right before my eyes.
My number one thought? I am SO glad I am here with them --that I am not missing these all-important moments. I feel so sorry for grammies who don't live next to their grandchildren. I would have been one of those, and I guess, in a silver-lining kind of way, I have my beloved son Joey to thank for the fact that I am here-- for this birthday party and all the others.
Happy Birthday, Beautiful Clare, our little Bear. Blow out the candle on another year, and look forward to an exciting new one. We will watch you grow and be there beside you all the way.
You bring so much love and light to our lives. Your Nana and Papa love you more than words can say.






