Thankful

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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