Locking it up tight

Encapsulating. It's not a psychological term that I know of, but it should be. As the Christmas week (which happens to include my wife's birthday, is fast upon me I've decided to practice what I have coined, encapsulating. Currently there is no Christmas or birthday coming up without my wife and daughter. There is only today. There are no memories that will not be replicated. There is only today.

As important events occur I have found that it helps to narrow my focus. It has been my approach for the last several years to focus on the blessings I have and not on the things I don't have. Some days this is easier than others. The more difficult days come around the holidays. Thanksgiving. Birthdays. Christmas. New Years. Valentine's Day. Arbor Day. Ok, maybe not Arbor Day. But sometimes the list includes Tuesdays. In other words, no particular event, just a day that features an emotional tsunami. On days like this I have to force myself to narrow the focus. To encapsulate. 

Encapsulating means to place your focus on the here and now. I don't know which way the wind blows so I can't worry about tomorrow. Or my wife's birthday. Or Christmas. But I can focus on the laundry that needs to be finished. The football game on TV. The friend I'm talking to or texting. The blog post I'm writing. Anything but the future that will hurt when it gets here. 

Have you ever gone to have a shot at the doctor's office or been to the dentist for major work? You know it's going to hurt (or you at least believe it will). By focusing on the pain that is going to come you give the pain a longer life than it actually has. Christmas without my family, or Christmas without your loved one, will include pain. But if you encapsulate, the pain doesn't last as long. You encapsulate the time before the pain. And then you encapsulate the pain. And then you move on. 

It is easier said than done, but it can be done. I'm trying to do it right now as I write this. I'm probably doing it as you read this too. And it's not exclusive to me. You can do it too. Just remember that encapsulating is solely for your emotional state. Don't shut others out. Especially if they are also dealing with the pain of your loss. 

I pray your holidays are wonderful and that you allow yourself to be blessed by others and to bless others. I hope the thought of encapsulating helps you. May God bless you with peace that flows throughout your holiday season. 

Let There Be Peace on Earth

Less than two weeks before Winter solstice Fall was most definitely in the air. Beneath my feet crunched the bones of the leaves that once spoke life. The reds and yellows were gone and the brown clung to the trees trying desperately not to let go and succumb to gravity. I walked along this worn path of fallen leaves preparing to do something that I had never done regardless of the times it had been suggested to me. I was going to the locally famous Lewis Lights. 

With a small band of friends we began our journey down a lighted path that shone almost as brightly as the smile I once wore when my wife would walk in the room. I approached the first bend in the path thinking, as I often do, how much better this jaunt would have been if my little girl were with me. Then my mind came to the realization that my little girl would be 24 and, although I would have been more overjoyed than words could describe, it would not give me the same reaction as it would have had a small child been with me. The joy of wonder in a child's eyes always lifts my spirit. The smile on their face followed by the Ohhhh shape of their lips when they realize that their magical Uncle Kevin can indeed pull his finger off or stick a straw up his nose and make it come out of his mouth is more of a delight to me than the experience ever will be to them. But tonight, alas, I had no small child in tow. 

The Old Testament tells us of the story of Abraham and Isaac as they journeyed to make a sacrifice with no sacrificial animal. Isaac had faith when His father told him God would provide a sacrifice. Well, tonight God provided for me what I needed to make my experience so much more than it could've been. Five steps into our excursion we came upon a woman taking pictures of three little girls. I offered to take a picture so the woman could be a part of the photographic experience. When all the "cheeeeses" had been said I returned the camera/phone to the woman and we moved on. Several steps later brought us to what I had heard about. A series of storyboards followed telling the story of the birth of Christ. My group and I moved from one story board to the next reading silently to ourselves. Before we could reach the next storyboard I heard the three small girls reading aloud. Suddenly I knew what I wanted. I wanted to hear the girls read the story. Although it sounded like three part harmony in the tone of a reading circle, it was music to my ears. I stopped my group and we stood to listen to the storyboards being read. Although I knew where the story was headed, I slowed down and took in not just the story, but the delight in the voices of these young girls as they sounded out each word stumbling slightly over words like Bethlehem and falling a little flat on frankincense. But the wonder with which they read these words and rushed to read the next part of the story made me realize something about my Christmas past and, more importantly, my Christmas future. Doubtless, losing a child puts a damper on the Christmas holiday. Try as you might it is hard to keep your focus off the missing presence among the presents. Subsequently, losing your wife makes it impossible. The last Christmas saw my heart shrink four sizes that day. But tonight, in the shadow of the Rugrats Christmas signs, I finally understood. 

Christmas is not about recognizing that a baby that lay in the hay didn't cry when woken by the cattle lowing. It is not about how silent a night was around the same baby. It isn't about whether my Christmas is white, blue, or leafless brown. Christmas is about the introduction to the world the possibility that I will one day again see my wife and child. Christmas is about the fact that, no matter how bad my sins were, a child sought by three wise men, was placed there so I could be forgiven of those sins. Christmas is about peace on earth, and tonight it began in me. 

Your Guest is as Good as Mine

Sometimes you go through life seeing someone everyday for awhile. Perhaps it's a school classmate. Perhaps it's a coworker. Regardless, you get used to seeing them there. Then, slowly, life takes you in a different direction and you start seeing one another less often. Days become weeks and weeks become months. Sometimes, during that time, you begin to wonder whatever happened to them (unless you are Facebook friends in which case you know what their cat had for breakfast that morning). Then one day, from out of nowhere, they show back up in your life. Maybe for a moment. Maybe for a lifetime. This has occurred to me more times than I care to remember and in most cases the reunion is a good one as you reminisce about the good old days. But other times you see them coming and you try to avoid them without it looking like you're trying to avoid them. That too has happened to me and, to be completely honest, I have dodged a person or two myself in my lifetime. 

My visitor today was someone I had not seen in awhile and really didn't care to ever see again. I know that sounds harsh but, if you're honest with yourself, you know of people like that too. If you have read my blog in the past you have heard me talk about this individual. And if you've ever met him you too have probably tried to avoid him. I'm referring to my old pal, Angry Me. 

Angry Me lived with me all last Summer and most of the Fall and Winter too. He began to move out in the Spring and by the beginning of the next Summer he only came back occasionally to collect some things he had left behind. 

If you aren't familiar with Angry Me let me tell you a little bit about him. Angry Me is a very selfish individual. He concerns himself only with how he feels and not how others feel. He only wants what he thinks is good for him and doesn't care who he has to hurt to get those things. Angry Me refuses to put anyone else first. Especially God. 

I don't like Angry Me. 

This time of year can be a bit difficult to say the least. What once was at one end of the joy spectrum has now swung in the complete opposite direction. This creates a very welcome environment for Angry Me. Angry Me carries all of his hurt on his shoulder and, if that doesn't make it noticeable enough for you, then he will hold that hurt high above his head until someone comes along, feels sorry for him, and tries to take the load. And he will trick you into thinking you are helping. In his convoluted Tom Sawyer way he will convince you to take away his pain when he knows that there is no way you can. Misery loves company and he wants to bring you down to his level so he doesn't have to be there alone. I bet you don't like Angry Me either. 

This time was different. This time I saw Angry Me from far enough off to do two things. The first thing I did was shield as many people as I could from Angry Me as possible. I wanted to show Angry Me that he was no longer welcome in my home. And, so far, it has worked. Angry Me has sat silently as I've prayed for the help I need. As I've prayed for God to make me a better man. As I've tried to let God slowly into the room I had fixed up for Angry Me to live in and totally remodel it. Secondly I made a conscious decision to focus on other things than what Angry Me wanted me to focus on. The first thing only made the second thing that much more difficult. Angry Me doesn't do well if he doesn't have a captive audience. And anything that would divide my attention is not good for his well being. 

Angry Me wants me to be alone. Being alone makes me recognize how lonely life can be. Never before in my life have I ever felt more alone even when I sit among other people. Angry Me likes me to focus on that. The more I focus on the fact that I am alone, the more time he has to move back in. But I'm working hard to let my alone time be spent focusing on the blessings I have rather than the blessings I no longer have. 

I'm sure that Angry Me will probably hang around for the holidays looking for a chance to step in where he is not wanted. And he may even try to bunk up in his friend Sad Me's room. Sad Me will be like Matthew McConaughy in Failure to Launch and stay for a long time but eventually he too will have to go to.

Please be patient with me. I can only work on one Me at a time!

Eight Steps for Helping the Grieving Friend

Having traveled this road of grief more than once I see many familiar signposts. But, just as each individual follows a different path of grief, each grief causing event can alter the appearance of your path. Sometimes subtly. Sometimes drastically. For this reason, the words of advice I would give someone who has lost a child would be different than to one who has lost a spouse. With that in consideration I thought I might share a few words of advice for those who may not have traveled as rocky a road as I have but find yourself face to face with one who has. 

1. My first words of advice would be to not offer words of advice. I could end this post right there and call it a night. Unless you have faced a similar loss you are in no position to offer any advice. If you have faced a similar loss then you have every right to empathize, but still no right to tell the griever what they should do. The only time you can even approach this person with advice would be if they have asked you to help. And even then you should tread lightly. Which brings me to my next point:

2. Be there for the griever to listen. More importantly, be proactive. Yes, that griever might occasionally wish to be alone, but don't always expect them to seek you out. Especially if their loss has left them alone. Many grievers don't want to bring anyone else down so they will choose to try to face it all alone. Which is not the best approach for them to take. But simply saying that you'll be there for them is not enough. You should seek them out. Invite them to social functions you may plan to attend. Ask them for help with something you could easily do alone but would welcome the company. Invite them to family functions. However, through all of this, respect the times that they need to be alone. And, by all means, do not let them derive all of their happiness from you alone. Being there for someone is a noble act. Allowing them to be a leach does nothing for either of you. 

3. Be willing to bring up their lost love one in conversation. Share memories you have. Ask them to tell you stories that they remember fondly. Remember, they will not be getting any new memories so if they choose to share a memory repeatedly in your presence you should act like you are hearing it for the first time. Or at least ask questions about the story to indicate that you want to know it better.

4. Keep your faith gun in your holster. Quoting specific scriptures to comfort someone screams to them that you think you would do better if you were faced with a similar situation because your faith is so strong. Well I have news for you. You won't. You may even turn them away from the very faith you are trying to share with them. Remember that we (of the Christian faith) serve a mighty God. And God may be able to send someone to wash dishes and do house work or teach them how to pay bills, but He won't come down and do it Himself. As Christians we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ. Instead of unloading on them with a scripture you think will bring them peace, why not ask God what you can do for them that will make the scripture come alive. 

5. Keep a record of important dates. With today's technology it is not difficult to remember dates that may be important to the griever. Specifically, the anniversary date of the grief event and the birthdate of their lost loved one. A little text, phone call, or email is a nice touch. But, if you really want to touch them, send them a handwritten note. I have a casual acquaintance who sends me about two or three letters a year. Not just on those dates, but also on days she may be thinking of me. When we lost our daughter she sent several notes which really endeared her to my wife and I. After losing my wife the letters continued. She wrote them because she couldn't handle the emotion of talking directly to me. I still have those notes. 

6. Don't be scared to say something wrong. I had a good friend of mine sit across the table from me and tell someone else to not have children. That they were only trouble. Now I know for a fact that he loves his children. Even when they do get on his last nerve. He also knows that I love his children. But, the moment those words came out of his mouth he looked at me and told me he was sorry. He knew that I would do anything to have my child back. I tell you that story to let you know that, no matter how good of a friend you are, you are going to occasionally say the wrong thing. Apologize and move on. You weren't the first. And you won't be the last.

7. Go out of your way to do something in memory of their lost loved one. Make a donation in their loved one's name to their favorite charity. You don't know their favorite charity? Then pick one of your own and make a donation there. And, afterward, find out what charity their loved one supported and send a donation there. Can't afford to make a donation, then volunteer somewhere in their honor. All of these help the memory of their loved one live on. 

8. While this may a slight bit of a repeat of number 5, remember them on other important dates. Specifically on holidays. Certain holidays are tougher to get through than others. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter,Valentine's Day, and their own birthdays are always tough. But smaller holidays, those that give you the three day weekend, can be difficult as well. Nothing helps a griever deal with his or her own grief than immersing themselves in work or everyday routines. When those wonderful extended weekends come along they may not have anything planned. Think to include them in your Memorial Day or Fourth of July plans. Anything you can do to help them stay distracted and yet feel welcome will help more than you can realize. 

There are so many more things that you can choose to do that would be a nice gesture. There are so many things that you can keep from doing that are equally beneficial. Please feel free to comment and tell me if you have other ideas to share. I would love to pass them on. 

All by myself, don't wanna be

Traveling down this road from grief to hope to happiness I find myself stumbling more often than not. Sometimes the trips are caused by other events in my life. Sometimes I stumble over obstacles I have placed in my own way. And there are other times I know I just need a nap. As I've mentioned in a previous blog post, grief is physically draining (see Luke 22:45). Thankfully I have had friends in my life who step up and try to fill the void caused by the impact of the grief meteor that ripped a hole in me. Faith, friends, and fellowship. Those are the things that pull me through. 

I am forever grateful that God looks at the heart. But there is no doubt that man looks on the outside. On the outside your friend that is going through the grief event is probably not as far along as you think. And, in an attempt to be transparent as usual, I will confess that I get that way sometimes. But, if you are a fellow grief traveler, you often don't recognize how far you have actually come. Sometimes you need to look back and see that, although the end is nowhere in sight, the beginning is further away than it has ever been. 

Have  you ever noticed how much children grow the greater the time between visits? If you only see your nieces or nephews at Christmastime these words (or some to the same effect) will almost always be heard, "Oh my goodness! Look how big you've gotten! You must have grown a foot since I saw you last." That child did not have an instantaneous growth spurt. You just weren't there for their journey. If you are the parent of that child you are fully aware of how much they have grown, but you are probably not aware of the day to day changes. Grief is a lot like that. You who sit on the outside looking at us can see the growth. Those of us still facing the pain and loss every day wonder if we will ever get better. 

You on the outside see us as we begin the journey and occasionally spot us along our path. You can see the race as a cross-country trip. The racers on the other hand feel like we are in a NASCAR event. We are seeing the same things over and over as we circle the track feeling like the finish line is simply another name for the starting line. You on the outside do not see that, in our quiet moments we cry out to Jesus and ask him why. We shake our fists at the storm like Lt. Dan and silently scream as we see that which reminds opus of what we lost. 

So, what does someone need who is traveling down this road? I believe that every grief traveler needs something or someone to remind him or her just how far they have actually come. And they need a reason to get off the circular track and back onto a track that has them going ever forward. 

When you have a person in your life that you love so deeply that even breathing without them is difficult it takes some reminders that it is worth moving forward. When you have more than one catastrophic event you need someone to point out your progress and offer encouragement. And, when you lose someone who was by your side through it all and was always ready to speak your love language, you need someone to scratch your back. 

Then again, that last one may have just been for me. 

That which defines us

A recent trip had me spending time in yet another hotel. The spacious room was nicely furnished as the hotelier did his or her best to make sure I felt at home although hundreds of miles from it. As I surveyed the room upon entering there were a number similarities to home. There was a couch, a bed, a sink, a refrigerator, and TV. I made use of each and every convenience. As I walked through the bathroom I saw something extremely familiar. Something we all have and probably take for granted. The toilet. But this porcelain throne struck a chord in the heart of this suddenly very lonely feeling man. Why? Because the lid was down. In fact the entire weekend the lid was down (well, except of course while in use). Why did the lid remain down? I am a guy. A lonely guy. No one is going to gripe at me for falling in while trying to take a seat in the dark. Why do I bother to leave the lid down? Every. Single. Time. I'll tell you why. Training. 

When I first left my parents' home over three decades ago I roomed with a number of guys while working toward my college degree. There was no need to leave the lid down because it was the guys. But when I got married I was suddenly looking out for someone else's best interest. So the seat had to be lowered. And, after much repeated instruction (and fishing for one earring) I learned to keep the top lid lowered as well. It worked better for the both of us. It had not taken her long, but my wife had trained me. 

Before I got married I had a bad habit of leaving a trail of my daily breadcrumbs along my path as I walked in the door. The keys got dropped onto the first flat surface, and papers I carried joined them. My wallet would end up on the coffee table. And any change I had may find itself dropped near the wallet. So my beautiful new bride put a small white basket by the door and asked if I would just please drop everything in the basket. Then she would come by, pick it up, and put everything in our bedroom. She placed this basket on top of a tall speaker just inside the door as I walked into our little apartment. One day I came home and the basket wasn't there. I looked around and saw that she thought it looked better on top of the speaker by the bedroom door. Although I had to walk five whole feet to get there I deposited my daily detritus in the recently moved basket. She was worth the extra two strides. After a month or so of this I noticed the basket was gone. I quickly made the two steps to the speaker and saw that she had placed the basket just inside the door of the bedroom on our dresser. I just had to reach an extra three feet or so inside the bedroom doorway to drop my burdens. My wife would then find time to grab the basket and move it across the bedroom to a closet close to my side of the bed so it would be conveniently waiting my retrieval in the morning. The next step, you guessed it, was for her to move it into the closet where I started taking my stuff every night when I came home. I had effectively been trained to go on my papers. 

A good friend of mine and I had a discussion this week. We talked about what defined us. What is it that made us into the people we are today? I can proudly say that I am who I am because of my parents first, then God as He became part of my life, and, finally, because of my wife. I have been trained until I became who I am today; A man that makes mistakes on a regular basis but is forgiven; A man that leaves the seat and the lid down on the toilet; a man that keeps a shelf on his closet for his daily collections. 

Recently I've noticed that I have started a small menagerie on the kitchen countertop as I first walk in the door. It usually gets put away later. But not always. I no longer have that voice ringing in my head and further shaping me. Does this mean the real me is coming back? Or is who I was for over 26 years who I really was and this new me is just a lazy bum who misses the guidance of his wife? My prayer is that I will maintain a life built on the principles instilled in me by my parents and my wife, and that this new me is the real me and that the me of yesteryear, who thought only of himself, is truly gone and buried. And although the collection may build on the countertop in my life I can assure you of one thing that will never change. The lids will remain down when not in use. 

Four questions that could define your life

There are times that, no matter who we are, we all must face. These moments of decision that will define who we are and who we are to become. Sometimes these times come during trials. But other times these times come during blessings. We all know that trials can bring out the worst or best in us. But did you ever take time to think that blessings can do the same? 

I have been defined by the tragedies I have had to face and work daily to overcome. But sometimes I let blessings define me as well. How is it that I act if I am suddenly blessed financially? What if I have been blessed with a certain talent? I am faced with a similar choice if either of these should occur. If I choose to keep all that I am blessed with to myself how will that define me? A recent conversation with someone made me think of how I would act if a $173 million winning lottery ticket was in my hand? Would I hoard it? Would I spend it all? Would I give it all away? My decision defines who I am. 

I was told by someone once over this last year of my life that my stumbles and falls would be forgiven solely based on what I had gone through. While I appreciated the sentiment, I have to say that is wrong.  Just because I have a trial to face, no matter how large it is, I have no excuse for choosing to act selfishly or blaming God for the circumstances I find myself in. But I also know that if I acted selfishly after being blessed rather than cursed one thing remains the same. I can still be forgiven. God doesn't care why I sinned. He only wants to remove that sin from me as far as the east is from the west. 

In this last year I have found myself in situations where I have not acted as God would have me to act. Sometimes I recognized what I was doing and the wrongness of it and stopped. Sometimes I didn't stop. But God forgives me regardless. The I find myself doing something my God cannot do. I carry the guilt of a sin around with me. This is the same sin that God forgave and forgot. 

What about your life? How have blessings or trials shaped you? Take this little test:

1. God blessed you in a special way. Did you pass the blessing on? Did you soak in the blessing and point out to everyone how much God must love you to have blessed you so richly?

2. God met a real need in your life. Did you thank Him and ask Him to show you how you could bless another? Did you immediately go on to the next need on your list?

3. You are going through a trial in your life that doesn't seem to end. Did you recognize that, no matter how painful the trial, that God will eventually see you through? Did you wallow in the pity of it all enjoying the attention it brought you?

4. You have a real need in your life that you know God wants to fill but He hasn't yet? Do you continue to seek His face and ask Him to show you the good that can come of your need? Did you take matters into your own hands like Abraham did by marrying Hagar?

These are four simple tests to run your life through. I hope you can answer favorably to each of them. I wish that I could have every time I faced similar situations. But I can't do  haven't.  I'm human. But God is God and He still sits on the throne. And from His throne He shows me grace, mercy, forgiveness. And He still has a lot more to give out if we will only ask Him. 

This do in remembrance of me

I recall that day of horror. 

That day no one will forget. 

When darkness fell in broad daylight

And tears made our faces wet

Neighbors checked on neighbors

Prayers were said by all

Eyes squeezed shut and heads in hands

As iron and glass began to fall

Comfort did evade us

As pain marked our faces

Where monuments once stood of greatness

Now sat empty spaces 

I was not alone that day

The day that brought such grief

For many lives were lost that morn

Along those ash filled streets

But with the terror came something else

And it came as no surprise

Brothers helping brothers

As beauty from these ashes rise

That day we showed the world 

What unity can be

Differences tossed aside

As we all dropped to our knees

Red and yellow, black and white

Color did not divide

Christian, Jew, and even Muslim

Arm in arm we cried

But as pictures from streets attest

Something more that day

Color didn't matter then

That day we all turned grey

So as you cry in memory 

Of those lost in those towers

Don't forget the lessons learned

Together we showed power

Wave goodbye

Sometimes I am Moses. Staff raised as the waves build and hold in a tremendous wall of water. I look in wonder and think how close I am to imminent danger. The only thing between me and drowning in the depths is faith. Faith that these aqueous walls will not collapse upon me. I marvel at how I can see the power of the wave only inches away and how that power can overcome me with merely a thought. I thank God for holding back those things that want to overwhelm me. Without Him I would not be a perpetual overcomer. 

Some times I'm an Egyptian soldier. Standing on what I thought was dry ground. Looking at the murky depths that are now murky heights. Walls of water rivaling the heights of the pyramids. I see the people I am pursuing in front of me, safely on shore. I long to be where they are. I laugh at the children playing on the shoreline with their newly found perfectly shaped sea shells while their parents try desperately to hurry them along. I imagine that more than one of them has had to answer whether they are "there" yet. Meanwhile I stand between two columns of death. I take another step toward my goal of reaching the other side only to be buried beneath the waves as they come crashing in. Did they crash in to smother me because of a lack of my faith? Because of a lack of faith of those around me? Am I suffering in the depths because of something I did? Why is it that God has chosen NOW as a perfect time to release the waves?

I wish I had the answer to those questions. I can only give thanks to the Lord for holding the waves back as long as He did. My faith wasn't strong enough to hold back the waves. But is is strong enough to recognize that the very hands that held back the waves can reach down and save this worthless human being again. His hands can help me overcome. Again. 

And that is how you become a Perpetual Overcomer. 

A river runs through it

This summer I had the opportunity to spend some time on a river. While I enjoyed myself and the company I was in I couldn't help but notice how the flow of water had cut through this mountain as it flowed from its apex to its base. At times, as we rode this river, it seemed faster and rougher than others. Staying in the raft became a chore as the skilled guide led us on our journey. We were tossed and spun and, on the river, it was fun and yet sometimes terrifying. More skilled people than the six passengers have travelled these waters and not made it out to tell about it. At other times the water looked almost still as it flowed over areas where it met no resistance. 

After our journey ended where the water was calm and we removed ourselves from the raft I began to reflect on the day. In spite of the fears we may have faced along the way, we made it to our destination. Looking back on it, the memories were fond and not fearful. 

In our daily lives we can see the traces of the river. Sometimes the driving force of the water changes the very ground it touches. Digging new scars into the earth as it goes. On the soft earth the flowing water sculpts and shapes the land. On more firm soil it may take a bit longer but the river will eventually win. But, in some cases the river is what gets changed. A boulder here. A firmly rooted tree there. In those cases the river adjusts and goes over or around. But never through. 

My life has been changed by rivers. In softer areas I have broken. The river has left scars that will take a considerable amount of time to heal. If they ever do. Most likely those scars will remain for the duration. But other times the river had met a rock. The Rock. On those occasions the river has changed. Throughout its journey the river has never altered my faith. The more it has flowed the stronger my resolve has been. Yes, the river has changed me quite a bit. But I have had an effect on the river as well. 

The forces will undoubtedly leave scars. But the impact of that which remains firm in your life will forever alter the course of those forces. The river I saw was beautiful. It was majestic. In both the scars and the boulders. People came for miles to see it. And many of them left changed because of their encounter. When people see how the river has affected you, what will they see?

Life is a choice. Faith is a choice. Forces will come that will alter both. The question is, how will you let it alter you?

A few of my favorite things

Several steps from where I now sit there is an empty space. A space not unlike the ones in my heart. When you step into that space every step seems to echo the emptiness. There remains very little of the life that once filled the space. The last few days that emptiness has reared its ugly head. Sometimes in the midst of one heartache we can forget another pain. This week, for whatever reason, that other pain has worked its way like a bubble from the deep and danced its way to the surface. Amongst the waves it was almost unnoticeable. But to me it was the pea hidden under the mattress. It gnawed at me and made me uncomfortable. 

At the beginning of the week I made a decision to spend a little time in my daughter's room. I felt drawn to the clothes in her closet. I stood there and ran my hands through the clothes and the memories they held. Then I shook the memories free from their cloth prisons and began to pull items of clothing from first the hangers and then her chest of drawers. After piling them on the bed I began to sort them so that I could give them to her cousins who were now old enough and big enough to wear some of them. It was time for those clothes to associate with new memories. The memories no longer belong in a size 14slim pair of heavily bedazzled jeans. They will now reside solely in my heart. 

Some of the clothing remains. Some that I knew would never hold the same significance to anyone else. A shirt from a family reunion. A T-shirt that has pictures of the soccer team she once entertained. T-shirts that once belonged to me that she stole to sleep in. And, finally, the one article of clothing I don't know I will ever be able to part with. A denim jacket. 

Some memories we place above others in our lives. I would love to think that my daughter thought I was the coolest dad ever. But my street cred was increased the day I came home with my motorcycle and took her for a ride. It was daddy daughter time. We would zip around the corners and zoom down the highway with her hanging on tight to me. The quicker I went (which was never too fast) the tighter she squeezed. So I went quick a lot. And, in her mind the denim jacket added to the cool points whenever she had it on during our rides. She would beg me to take her to youth group on the motorcycle so she could be seen climbing off the back by all the other kids. Cool points. They are so important in the early teenage years. But, to me, she maxed out cool points years before. 

Closer to where I now sit there are other spaces. Spaces that one day I'll go through. Those that belonged to my wife. Although I have given a number of her things away, they were things that, for the most part, either carried little weight with me or less weight with me than with the person I shared them with. When I tackle that task I will not be alone. I will humble myself and allow important people in her life to help in spite of the fact that I would rather keep that ugly, wrinkled up, snot bubble blowing face of mine unseen by the general public. I do have a reputation to maintain after all. But while my daughter was mine from the beginning, my wife was a daughter and a sister before she changed her last name. Her family must be allowed to be involved if they so wish. 

Memories. They are the one thing that I have that will remain of my family. They are not attached to any one item they owned. And, while I will give much of the "things" away, I will store those memories for the rest of my life.

That has to be worth a few cool points. Right?

A final thank you

Gentle reminders surround me on a daily basis. Reminders of a better life. Reminders of what I once had. Throughout my house are things that prove that you can't take it with you. Things that first my daughter, and then my wife, left behind. Wood, hay, and stubble. Things that seem so important to us at one time that don't really matter in the long run. 

My family did more than leave behind clothing, furniture, toys, and vehicles. They left behind something more precious. They left behind life. In April of this year I was honored to go and speak to a gathering of mostly medical professionals. These are people that live with life, and death, on a daily basis. People that do a sometimes thankless job. Especially when that job results in a less than desired result. 

My speech that day was designed to let the doctors, nurses, lab techs, and anyone else involved in patient care know that they are appreciated in spite of the tragedies they have to face on a daily basis. I could never be a hospice nurse, an oncologist, or an ICU nurse. I would want 100% of my patients to survive. And I'm sure those professionals want the same thing. Unfortunately that will never occur. No matter how hard they struggle. And, so often that is a thankless struggle. 

My wife and daughter were organ donors. I remember vividly when my wife and I were approached in the emergency room by the ER physician who let us know that, while our daughter had no chance at life, someone else could. I remember getting the letter weeks later letting us know that she had saved or improved the lives of at least 5 people. I checked on these people through the Mississippi Organ Recovery Agency. Although I never knew their identities, I did find out a little bit about them. Some have survived. Some have not. But someone out there is alive because of my little girl. I think that makes her a hero. 

This week I got my first letter from a recipient. I never heard from any of my daughter's recipients but I had finally heard from someone who was able to live an improved life thanks to my wife. This grandmother can now go watch her grandchildren play ball. She can go on vacations without worrying about going through dialysis instead of enjoying family time. And she thought to say thanks. 

I have a bulletin board at my office with an interesting collection on it. I collect thank you notes. They are so rare these days that I thought it would be nice to look at and occasionally be reminded that someone appreciated something I had done for them. But never have I received as important a thank you letter than the one this woman wrote to the donor family. 

No greater love exists than a man lay down his life for a friend? I'm not so sure. I think the greater love exists when a man, or, in my case, two women, lay down their lives for someone they never even met. 

This thank you letter will one day be placed in the center of my bulletin board. It will be read daily as a reminder to me that my wife still lives on. That a very real part of her walks this earth today. That a part of her is responsible for hugs, kisses, tickles, giggles, and laughter that this earth would have otherwise been missing. 

If you haven't considered it before I beg you to please consider donating the gift of life. Don't wait for your family members to have to make the decision for you. Go to http://donatelife.net/register-now/ and register to be a donor. The peace that your family will be left with knowing that you still live on will be worth it. I promise. 

Maintaining focus in a busy world

I walked along the shore line watching the emerald green waters merge with the soft white sand. Dancing above the water's surface the local birds darted and dashed between the waves in search of their next appetizer. Fluffy white clouds drifted in the sky sparking the imagination as the winds mold this gathering of condensation into shapes of hippos, Angels, or Snoopy. The powerful sunbeam punches holes in the imagination as it burns earthward. The smell of salt fills the air and a careful eye can spot the dolphin in the distance riding the wakes of passing vessels. 

Along the beach I watch people of various shapes and sizes fighting the battle of the bulge by pounding the sand step after step. Earbuds hang from their ears attached like umbilical cords to their musical devices. Caps pulled tight on their heads just above the sunglasses perched on their collective noses. UV rays burn through the sweat slowly roasting the unaware. Head down they strive to reach their goal. 

I walked along the mountainside watching the mountains work to reach out to their maker. A ceiling of lush green is my shelter from the bright sun. The ground crunches under my feet as I trod over a decaying carpet of leaves and twigs. Wildlife scurries among the low lying branches and out of harms way. A recent rain stirs a musty but pleasant aroma from the forest floor. The river that splits the mountains struggles to hold on to the water as steam rises in attempt to return the moisture to the sky. 

Along the highways busy motorists zoom from one location to the next, windows closed to the silence of nature. Radios blaring the latest tunes while status updates and pictures are posted by adolescents unaware of the amazing beauty that is flying past their windows at 70mph. 

As I study these environments I become aware of how blessed we are and how, due to those blessings, we become blind to our blessings. We have become numb to anything but that which causes us either immense joy or intense pain. We take our blessings for granted until we lose sight of them. 

What blessings have you forgotten to recognize as blessings? Your health? Your family? Your job? Your friends?

I have been blessed beyond measure in my life. I have not been crushed. I have not been abandoned. I have not been destroyed. Although at times I feel that way. And, I will admit a momentarily will lose sight of those blessings. I was blessed with a wonderful wife. She in turn blessed me with a beautiful daughter. I love the work that I do and I'm thankful for the jobs that I once had,but no longer do, that helped mold me for the work I do. 

Take a moment today and look beyond the noise. Stop running. Roll down the windows and let blessings wash over you. Take your focus off of what you don't have and the injustices of this world and focus on the blessings you do have. 

More importantly, focus on the One who gave those blessings to you. 

7 Steps to hearing God's voice in the midst of grief

One of the many things that those going through grief want is clear direction. They want to know it's okay to go on with their lives. And they want to know how and where to go. They pray for this direction on a regular basis and wait for God to speak to them. This leads me to a plethora of thoughts that I will try to assimilate in the next few paragraphs. 

I want to direct you to a passage of scripture that I recently saw in a different light. In 1 Kings, Chapter 19, we read that Elijah has found himself in a cave on the mountain of God. He had fled to the wilderness and told God he couldn't take it anymore. He asked God to take his life. In other words, to put him out of his misery. Instead God fed him and instructed him to go to Horeb, the mountain of God. 

Point 1: We are to prepare ourselves and go to the "Mountain of God" if we want to hear His voice. Where is your mountain? Is it your prayer closet? Is it your church? Your small group? Wherever you feel closest to God is your mountain. 

Once Elijah went to the mountain he found a cave and dwelled there. 

Point 2: Once you go to your mountain you must be willing to stay and listen for God to speak to you. 

While there God asked Elijah what he was doing (as if He didn't already know). Elijah cries out to God and tells Him that he is fearful for his life. The circumstances are so great that he knows it will just kill him to continue. So, what does God do? He directs him to step outside of his cave and step into the presence of the Lord. 

Point 3: To hear God speak you might have to step outside of your comfort zone. 

Once Elijah stepped outside God asked him AGAIN what he was doing and AGAIN Elijah told him exactly what was going on.  Verbatim. Was this the first biblical record of Deja Vu? Of course not. 

Point 4: Sometimes we may need to make it known more than once what it is we are seeking from God. 

After this there was a strong wind that tore the mountain apart. But the Lord was not speaking in the wind. Then came an earthquake. Still no voice from God. After the earthquake there was a fire. But God did not speak to him through the fire either. After all of that, God spoke in a gentle whisper. 

Point 5: Sometimes outside forces want to knock us off our feet. They make it feel as if the ground is giving away beneath us and then we have to go through the fire. But if we are patient God has a gentle answer for us. But we must make sure that we don't let the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, keep us from hearing what God has to say. 

After Elijah heard God's voice he followed the heavenly instructions and found Elisha in the field. Elisha left to follow Elijah and become his servant. 

Point 6: God may speak to you in a still small voice. And sometimes that voice may be through someone else rather than directly to you. And God will also give you someone to help you. Don't shut them out. 

Every other time I have read this scripture I have marveled at the way God chose to spoke. The focus had always been on how God didn't speak through the wind, the earthquake, and the fire but in a still small voice. This time I wondered if God was speaking during each of those events but Elijah just couldn't hear Him because his focus was on the chaos and not on the calm. 

Point 7: Focus on God and what He wants to tell you regardless of the madness around you. 

I hope this little mini-sermon spoke to you. I kind of miss leading the youth and teaching them. It felt good to hear that gentle whisper as God taught me this. I pray you will be able to hear what He wants to whisper to you. 

I'm giving up

God gave me more than I can handle. I'm sorry to say that I have just had to give up. And that was the end of the beginning. Whoever it was that said that God will never give you more than you can handle is a big fat stinky pants liar. God often gives us more than we can handle. Each of us. Some of us on a daily basis. But why would a God that loves me as much as he says he does give me more than I can handle? What kind of purpose does it serve? What good can come of it? 

During this past year, heck, over the last eight plus years, hundreds have done their best to help me carry his load the Lord dumped on my shoulders (cause I certainly didn't deserve this). But you, my friends, have failed. Yes, you may have temporarily eased the pain, but you couldn't make it go away. I've been emotionally waterboarded. My life has been filled with more pain than I can handle and more than my friends could handle for me - no matter how hard they tried. Why would God do that to me? Does he really hate me that much?

Anyone that knows me knows that I would never truly blame God for this temporary trial. I also have never questioned him. I've just tried to look at the last few years as being the leveling of the playing field. I was blessed with so much for so long that it was bound to happen. After all Steve Jobs amassed a fortune that he couldn't take with him. He gets blessed more than I could ever hope to be but can't spend it now. I was blessed with a wonderful family for several years. Now I am alone. 

So I officially have given up. There is no way I can carry this load like this. Alone. God gave me more than I can handle. 

But it's not more than he and I can handle together. And I have found that I can turn over more and more of the load to him. And guess what, he is phenomenally strong. He can handle this burden so I don't have too. He can lift it from my sore shoulders. And he has. The funny thing is I seem to think that if he will just carry it for a little while that I'll rest and take it back from him. But he doesn't want me to take it back. And I will admit that I like the shoulders being a little less sore lately. 

So if you see me walking down the street whistling a happy little tune don't think it is because I'm over it. I'm not. Instead I have God's love and peace over me. I may not be over it, but he's over me and that will return a smile to my face every time. 

What are you doing with your burden. Are you like me? Do you keep giving it to the Lord only to try to take it back from him because you don't want to burden him with your troubles? Have you ever seen a child struggle to carry something that is very heavy to them? You reach down and take it from them and they are awestruck at your strength. I think it's time we both learned to be awestruck. Can we both agree to just give it up?

I think I found the purpose. I think I've found the good that can come of it. 

The end of the beginning

What is it that causes a turning point in grief and when should you expect it? I wish I had the answer for everyone. I cannot remember when the turning point was when I lost my child. I just remember that one day I realized that it had been a few days since I had really cried over my loss. I know I was not over the loss. You never truly get over a loss like that. But I had reached that point where I began to truly focus on the present and the new future. I certainly wasn't running away from the past- although the past might have thought so when it shot me in the back of the head a few times during my getaway. But I had changed my view. I was now looking at the finish line of the race rather than the starting line. 

The loss of my wife was a greater blow. But I do know the turning point then. It was day number 366. And it couldn't have gotten here fast enough. The 11th month was the hardest since the first. Anticipation of the one year mark was a huge burden and I tried my best to bear it alone. Stupid mistake. But on day 366 a switch was flipped in my brain. The remainder of my life still needed to be lived. The race I was running still had a few more markers to pass until I passed the finish line. But on day 366 I changed my view. I stopped looking at where I had been and started looking where I was going. 

The past couple of weeks I have been going through some of their things and sorting them out. This house is now my house. And the ghosts of memories are prevalent in every square inch of it. Those ghosts are not attached to items. I know this because the memories do not disappear just because I threw away a can of hairspray that will no longer be used. Those ghosts, those memories, will forever be seared in my brain. 

Today I went to the calendar my wife had on the front of the fridge. It was dated June 2014 but she had not yet written anything other than the dates. We had only gotten back from our last vacation and she had not written down the plans for the month. The future for her had not yet been written. Today I recognized that it was time to start planning my future. It is no longer our future. We had a past. And, for the most part, it was an incredibly wonderful past. But the future belongs to me. 

Last weekend I was walking the hallway in my church, probably with a little one in my arms, and trying to listen to my pastor over the speakers. I didn't catch all he said at that time but I did hear him quote a scripture. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:1-3 NIV)

I have chosen to "throw off the past" and focus on Jesus more than I have been this past year. He endured so much more than I did. And He did it knowing the joy that was set before Him. I too have that joy. And a family that waits for me at the finish line. 

I like to move it, move it

Today I said a prayer for my niece. She has fear in her heart. Not the, “Mommy it’s dark outside can you leave a light on” fear. Not a “there is a monster under my bed” fear. Not even a “the thunder scares me” fear. No, she has a fear that is not quite so easily dismissed.

Twelve months ago today I called my life to find out why she was late for lunch. She didn’t answer. 365 days ago I sent repeated text and made repeated phone calls that went unanswered. It was not unlike my wife to be late for something. It was not unlike my wife to sleep in after a long night at work. But it WAS unlike her to not answer her phone. So I finally looked at my staff and told them I was going home to check on her to see why she wasn’t answering her phone. I didn’t expect to find anything other than my wife in the shower, unable to answer the phone.

That’s not what I found.

I walked into the bedroom and noticed the bed was unmade but she was not in it. Instead she was collapsed at the foot of the bed. 

And this is the fear that grips my niece. This is the reason she looks at me, and every other adult in her life, and asks if we are okay. This is why she is afraid to take her eyes off her gran. And why every little cough or sneeze has her brow furrow with concern. And, today, one year from when her aunt was rushed to the hospital to live out her final 6 days, she worries about her mom who lies in a hospital bed recovering from routine surgery.

How do you deal with a child who has already had to face a grown up fear so early in her life? Someone who has seen her young cousin as well as her aunt taken from her. If you thought this post was going to bring you an answer I apologize and you can stop reading because you will not find anything definitive here.

Too many adults in my life face the same fears. I’ve been through it enough to know that I’ll go through it again. Loss is inevitable. There is nothing I can do to stop it. And there is nothing I can do to stop the worry in my little niece’s heart. I can only pray. I can pray for the same peace that overwhelms me when the pain bubbles up. I can pray that she will let God overcome the spirit of fear. I can pray for her mom to pull through the surgery with flying colors.

What about the children in your life? How do they handle grief? Her siblings all handle it quite differently. Some don’t mind talking about their aunt or even their cousin (much to the horror of many adults who think they are shielding me from their prying questions). And they aren’t alone. Many a child wants to ask me questions about “why her die?”. And, I don’t have an answer. Explaining death to a child, whether that be the death of a person or of a goldfish, is beyond me. In the end, no matter how you explain it, you will never get to see that person, or goldfish, ever again. At least this side of heaven. And even then I can’t promise a child they would ever see their goldfish again (And, while I miss Spike, I’ve never focused a blog post on him), because I don’t know if all goldfish go to heaven.

However you try to explain death to a child there is little comfort in the answer. Explaining death to an adult is not much easier. The only answer I have is based on a couple of questions for you. Did your life begin the day you moved into the place you now live? Will it end if you move out of that place and into another? That’s how I feel about the life we have on this earth. My life did not begin when I moved into this body I currently inhabit. (Psalm 139:16 - Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one came to be). My life does not end when I move out of this body. (Hebrews 11:16 Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.)

So, while this brings only a little comfort to me, my child and my wife have moved. They no longer live here. They have finally moved home. I know this will not comfort my niece and dispel her fears, but perhaps she will find some solace in the fact that, when we move on from here we will get to move home with our Father (John 14:2 My Father’s house has many rooms; if it were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?)

I’m moving on until one day I get to move on. Care to join me?