Turning WHY into why

I remember when I turned the corner. When I had the chance to actually see what was in my future and make steps to get there. I didn't run to my future. I limped along. But I was moving forward at least. 

Shortly after losing my daughter I was attending a concert. The band was a Christian band and I'm sure they were good, but I couldn't tell you who all was there. I was lost in the fog. Not the fog generated by the machines on stage, but in a mental fog. A grief cloud hung over me and nothing was burning it off.  So right there in the middle of the concert I bowed my head and prayed a prayer that I had prayed before. But this time it was different. 

When we face trials in life we often tend to ask God, why. Why me Lord? Why are you putting me through this? Most often it is a scream. WHY??? That was my prayer from the day that we took our daughter to the hospital and walked out without her. It was my prayer at the concert. But this time I asked God a little differently. I asked Him why, but I asked Him from my heart. I knew there had to be a reason. This time my WHY was really a question and not just a heart's cry. I asked God to please show me what the good was that was supposed to come out of this tragedy. I wanted to know how He could use this to help me and help others. So, instead of a scream, I simply whispered, why. 

Acts 2:17 says, "In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams." I don't consider myself a young man by any stretch of the imagination nor do I think we are truly in the last days. But I do believe that God can send down His Spirit. That evening, in the middle of the concert, He did. I saw a vision just as clear as the device you are reading this on. And this was my vision:

I was walking on the second floor hall of what I can only describe as some sort of temple. The floor was made of gray stone and the walls of a beige color. Much like the stucco walls you see on a number of buildings these days. To my right were rooms with no doors, simply doorways. To my left were archways which allowed someone to see from the second floor into the courtyard of the floor below. Each of the archways were covered by a thick curtain that blocked the view. Walking beside me was Jesus and we were having a conversation. I'm not sure what we talked about before then but I remember the conversation led toward my asking Him what He wanted out of this. Well, I had that thought in my head, but what actually came out of my mouth was, "Why?" Jesus looked at me with compassion and said, "You want to know why? Let me show you why." Then He took me over to the archway and pulled the curtain back. He pointed to the floor below. It was filled with hundreds of people. Praises were being sung and hands were lifted. Then He looked at me and said, "You want to know why? That is why." I was confused and looked at Him. "I don't understand." Then He said, "Do you see those people down there? Every single one of them is here, in Heaven, worshipping God, because of Beth." He went on to explain that what I had gone through and my sharing her story led to each of those people getting to experience a relationship with Christ. Some of them directly. Most of them indirectly. 

I recently had the opportunity to talk to a group of young men about facing tragedy and maintaining the faith. I don't do what I do because I'm strong. Quite the opposite. I am weak. But in my weakness He is made strong. At the end of my talk with these gentlemen I asked them to imagine themselves there as I walked and talked with Christ. Then I asked them, are you one of the hundreds? Or, by telling this story, could you be responsible for one of the hundreds. What about you, my dear reader? Where do you see yourself? Are you looking down at the faces below and recognizing a few of them? Or are you looking up and seeing me and Jesus in the opening?

I have a new question why now. Why did God choose to bless me with this opportunity? A friend asked me if I had to do it all over again would I be able to do it. Was it worth it? For me, regardless of the pain,it will be. It has to be. This time we have here on this earth is so minute compared to eternity. I will get to see Beth and I will get to see Wanda again. And, thanks to my Beth and her mom and being able to share our story, so will thousands of others. 

I now question God about the blessings He has given me, a filthy sinner. I do not deserve to be a husband again. I don't deserve to be a part of a family like I am now. I didn't deserve to be blessed with a second love of my life. But I have been. And I wake up every day and thank God for his grace. 

Each of us has the potential to have our own courtyard full of people. And each of those people could have their own courtyard. Exponentially we can all make an eternal difference for the Kingdom of Heaven. 

We just have to let God turn our WHY into why. 

Alone again

Last night I learned a lesson. It was one that I thought I knew before but the view I got was completely different this time. I was alone. All by myself in a sea of people. I chose to end a long day by relaxing at a sporting event. Alone. I went by myself. Sat by myself. Cheered by myself. Left by myself. Yes, tonight I was alone. But I wasn't lonely. And tonight I welcomed the difference. 

Just a year ago I felt what it was like to be lonely. What it was like to be in a large crowd but feel so alone. I didn't like it. Not one bit. To me, one who is very much a people person, there was a big reason that “The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone." So I was so happy when He again found the helper who was a suitable mate for me. 

But you, my dear reader, may not be there. You may not know what it is like to be alone without being lonely. You may be struggling and asking yourself why you have to face this life alone. And the answer to that one question is the greatest gift I could give you. But, alas, it is not my gift to give. I wish that I could put a timetable on your loneliness. Some sort of red letter day to let you know that loneliness will end. I have not forgotten the pain of wanting desperately to hold someone special in your arms again. The actual physical ache that cannot be fully understood by someone else until they too have been through it. The end to my pain finally arrived. Yours will too. Even though you may feel that frustration. That sense of dread as you go to bed and lay your head on your tear soaked pillow wishing someone were there beside you. Even though you see no end to your days of trying to choke back that ever present lump in your throat as you write one name only on a return address. God sees it. God sees the red letter day. God sees that it is not good for you to be alone. And God has the timing already in place. 

For several years I lived in the same town as my new forever. Went to the same church. Shopped in the same stores. Frequented the same restaurants. So many times our paths came ever so close to crossing. But they didn't. They didn't cross until God wanted them to cross. I've said before that the Holy Spirit will bring you peace but the Holy Spirit cannot come down and hug you. He cannot physically entwine His fingers within yours. Cannot reach His foot over in bed and find yours in the middle of the night. But He can bring you someone who will. He WILL bring you someone. Like Adam, you may have to set about the task of naming animals. You may have to set your mind on the tasks that God has assigned to you rather than on what is missing, but eventually you will look up and see that special someone just waiting to help you with that task. And in that moment, whether it is a sudden flame or a slow boil, you will know. 

It is not good for him to be alone. It is worse for him to be lonely. Thank God for the suitable helper. Now may the God who brought me mine bless you with yours. 

In His timing. 

Image via creation.com

Missing in Action: What takes us away from that we know?

Where have you been? 

Just the other day I had a friend ask me if she had missed a blog I had written. (It turns out that someone actually does follow these musings.) I told her that I had not written anything for awhile but promised to get back to it soon. Well, here I am getting back to it.

Why the absence? Why haven’t I penned anything for you to laugh or cry over? That’s a really good question. Why does any writer go through periods of not writing anything? Why does an artist not paint, a songwriter not compose, or sculptor not shape something from nothing? Come to think of it, why does a writer write, an artist paint, a composer compose, and a sculptor sculpt anyway? What inspires them? 

In ancient Greece a Muse was that entity that was considered the source of the arts. It was generally understood that there were nine Muses, each with their own domain. If I were to truly follow this mythology then I would rely on any number of them. Euterpe was the Muse for Music, Song and Lyric Poetry. So for the poems that I have written she would’ve been my Muse. Erato was the Muse for Love poetry so there are times I would reach out to her. Thalia, the Muse for Comedy, would also occasionally be consulted. But the Muse I would have spent the most time with would’ve been Melpomene. She was the Muse of tragedy.

In today’s terms I would say that for the longest time my Muse was a lady named Grief. She walked with me everywhere. She slept beside me and scripted my dreams. She was there waiting for me with a big cup of sorrow in the mornings. And there were times I drank deeply. But this Muse has taken a back seat of late. She has been replaced by a Muse that has caused me to reach out in other manners. Sure, I continue to write, but now I write personal notes. This Muse, Love, has shown me other ways to express myself. And, as she continues to work her way into my heart and fill up the cracks, crevices, and ravines, I find that I can write again but with words that bring tears of a different flavor. Tears of love and tears of joy are so much sweeter than tears of grief and bitterness. And while the tears of grief may still occasionally come, the overwhelming aroma of the tears of love and joy soon bring sweetness back to my life.

So forgive me for not being as faithful to my blog as I had thought that I would be. I’m busy being faithful to someone else.

How do those tears taste?

Do you think she will mind?

What would you think if I told you I met someone and felt an instant connection? Someone that I took out only two weeks after I first met her and couldn't take my eyes off of her. What if I told you I professed my love to her within a week? And that I planned to marry her shortly after that. What would you tell me? That it's too fast? That I need to plan it out. Slow it down. It's too soon. What if I told you that it was right and nothing you could say would make me change my mind? Would you call me foolish behind my back? Would you expect it to end as quickly as it began? You know, if I were in your shoes I would probably be thinking the same thing. But I'm not in your shoes. I'm in mine and I know what my heart wants no matter how quickly it happens. 

Now what if I told you that you were too late to change my mind? My decision has been made and I know that I'm supposed to be with this woman until death do us part. And what if I told you that she makes me the happiest man alive? Would you tell me to be cautious? What if I told you that the relationship that started so quickly burned brightly for 26 years? Until death did us part. Still feel like it is a bad decision?

Do you recognize the name Roy C. Sullivan? It's not exactly a household name. Roy C. Sullivan was a man who was struck by lightning and survived. Surviving a lightning strike is pretty incredible. Surviving a lightning strike twice is almost unheard of. Surviving a lightning strike SEVEN times puts you in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Does being with someone new make all the old go away? Absolutely not. Will being with someone new make you no longer grieve your losses? Never gonna happen. Does being with someone new give you someone who will comfort you in your grief and help shoulder the load? I would certainly hope so. It would have to be someone very special though. So far I think she is. Could I be giving Mr. Sullivan a run for his money? I hope not seven times. But twice could happen. And if it does I pray that everyone understands. 

Especially Wanda.

DO YOU MIND

One thing weighs heavy on my mind.

One thing grips at my heart

One thing I kneed to know

It's about a brand new start

Do you mind if I give my heart to someone new

Do you mind? 

Do you mind if it beats for one who isn't you

Do you mind?

Do you mind if I try to love again

Do you mind?

Do you mind if I have a peace within

Do you mind?

I've met someone else

Someone to help me bear the pain

The pain of losing you forever

Someone helped me love again

Do you mind if I give my heart to someone new?

Do you mind? 

Do you mind if it beats for one who isn't you?

Do you mind?

Do you mind if I try to love again?

Do you mind?

Do you mind if I have a peace within?

Do you mind?

To the one who helped me love again

Something I need for you to tell

As I rise above the pain

I ask one thing of you as well

Do you mind if my heart was held by one?

Do you mind?

Do you mind if I cry for that which has been done?

Do you mind?

Do you mind cause it's just too much to bear?

Do you mind?

Do you mind that I'm asking you to share?

Do you mind?

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. 

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. 

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. 

ChChChCh Changes

Change. They say change is good. And I can't disagree. At least not 100%. But I really believe that the change the proverbial "they" is referring to is change that you choose to make. Not change that is forced on you. I've never been totally resistant to change. At least in many areas of my life. Things change and so you must change with them. In my business I have found this to be true. In my personal life as well. But I have found that resistance to change is elevated in my personal life. 

In business I know I am not operating as I was even ten years ago. I must follow the current of the marketplace. Computers are an integral part of my operations whereas they were simply a necessary evil at the turn of the millennium. The products I sell and the way they are fabricated have also undergone some wholesale changes. And all of these changes truly are for the better. 

In my personal life the changes over that same time period have been much more drastic. First, learning to live without my child. Missing those things I once begrudgingly attended. No more dance recitals. No more soccer games. No more noisy sleep-overs. But also, no more snuggles with my little girl in my lap. No more donut runs. No more daddy-daughter date nights. Now, even more recently, learning to live without my spouse. I would like to think that if I knew where I would be today, if I knew how much I would progress and how to make that progression 11 months ago, that it would've made things so much easier last June. But I would be lying to myself. The changes I have undergone have been forced upon me. Just today I found another simple reason to miss my bride. And it was a purely selfish reason. I got too much sun. I have no one to apply the soothing lotion to my back. I have no one to scratch it when it itches so bad as it heals. Yes, some changes really (insert your adjective here).

The other thing I have noticed is how much I have changed over the last quarter of a century. Changes that both my child and my wife caused me to make. The lid - both of them- gets put down EVERY time. My shoes come off at the door. The dishes are cleaned before I head to bed. I shave in the shower because it makes it easier to clean up. Dirt and clutter bother me. I put away all of my toys before going to bed. I remain a gentleman around the ladies... mostly. 

In the last eleven months there have been a number of other changes I have had to make. I wash my own clothes every time. I pay the bills. I've learned how to sleep in the bed alone (except for my daughter's stuffed dog). I pick out my own clothes. I pack my own suitcase when I go on trips. I cook. Well, that last one is a bit of a stretch. The list is endless. But I've noticed how much of these things I do I choose to do my wife's old way. I try to honor her that way. 

Now is the time to face the biggest change though. The change in my heart. My love for my wife will never go away. And anyone that chooses to spend any of the rest of my life with me knows that or they don't get to spend any of the rest of my life with me. My heart has scabbed over. There are scars. It is bruised and beaten. It has been pressed, persecuted, struck down, but it has not been crushed, abandoned or destroyed. The attacks of the devil have been numerous and they have knocked me to my knees. I fall down. But I get up. And now it is time for me to step out there and truly see what this heart wants for the rest of my life. More importantly it's time for me to see what the Lord wants for my heart. And one day, maybe months from now, maybe years, I hope to be able to share with you, dear reader, how God can restore if you'll let Him. 

Can't Buy Me Love

Recently I had to search through my wife's belongings for something important. This was not the first time and it probably will not be the last. Going through her purse, her closet, her private things can be emotional to say the least. However, the more I do it the more I have learned to compartmentalize the feelings, the flood of emotions that are associated with her earthly possessions. In the first few months of her passing I have rummaged through her things and even done a complete search. I wasn't looking for anything. Just something. Something that would evoke a good memory. I found old cards and letters I had given her and felt that love swell in my heart over the thought that she felt in love with me enough at the time to save those cards, letters, poems, or songs. 

Over the last few months I have pulled out our wedding album and looked through the pictures of these kids as they began their journey together. I opened the photo albums where we had placed all of the pictures we had of our daughter after she passed away. So many memories. I have found a place on the floor of my wife's closet and organized her bountiful collection of shoes. Through tears I placed each pair neatly in a box and stacked the boxes up. It was like playing a live version of Tetris but I finally managed to make a short wall of shoe boxes. I have washed and hung all of her clothes in that same closet and run my fingers over the fabric as if I could, in some small way, stir up the dust of memories from the last time she wore that particular dress, shirt, or pair of pants. I have pulled out each ring, necklace, bracelet or set of earrings and imagined them as they rested against her silky smooth skin. I have purposely stayed away from the lingerie drawer because some memories need no help. But nothing prepared me for the treasure I found this particular night. 

One of the more difficult things that I was forced to do in the first weeks following her passing was to cancel a cruise my wife and I were to take this past November. Every year we saved up money to get out of town on either our daughter's birthday or for Christmas. This time it was for her birthday. It was a ship we had not been on and it was for a longer period of time than we usually would book. We budgeted all year long for these cruises so that we would not have to be paying for our cruise long after the ship had docked. We didn't have a lot of money but we (that really should read, SHE) did a good job of setting money aside and prepaying for just about everything. When I called and cancelled the cruise I broke down twice while telling the story to the woman on the other end of the phone line. I made this call while in my office and then promptly went home for the day. (It pays to own your own business where you can occasionally work from home!) I was ruined. We had talked of this cruise just days before she went in the hospital. We had looked forward to the break in the mundanity of the work schedules we both had and to relaxing in the sun. 

Fast forward to last week. I began a search for a card I knew she kept in her wallet. I went to her purse and pulled everything out of it again. No card. I looked through a travel portfolio we each had and didn't find it there. I looked through the shelves and the various storage places she had but it was nowhere to be found. Then I found a wallet that she had placed on a back shelf. I recognized this wallet as our cruise wallet. I was sure the card wasn't there but pulled it out anyway. The only thing in the card section was a stack of my personal business cards. I knew this to be our cruise wallet because she would stash cash in it to save for our trips. And, as a surprise, I would sneak in there and add some to it so we would have more spending money than she expected. Just before I put the wallet up I slid my fingers into the back section in case she had chosen to store the card I was searching for there. There was no card. Instead I found cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. And not just a little either. She had already saved over half of the money she had expected we would need for the trip. I had discovered a hidden treasure. Cash that would pay for a future trip. Only, there would be no future trip. 

Most people get excited when they find money laying around. It had the opposite effect on me. There was enough money here for me to take another weekend trip away. There was money enough to buy me a piece of furniture I had been looking for. There was cash in my hand that would let me landscape the yard. There were enough bills to buy me anything I had thought about saving up for these last few months. There was only one thing that I couldn't buy with that money. I couldn't buy any more time with my wife or my daughter. The Beatles told us that money can't buy you love and they were right. (But, no, you can't have it!)

If you have been reading my blog for awhile then this next statement is something you have heard from me before and you will hear it again. If you are a first time visitor to my blog, welcome, and listen if you will to just a little advice. There are some things money cannot buy. We know that better than knowing that 15 minutes can save you on you car insurance. But sometimes it bears repeating. Don't waste your time on things that don't matter. Family matters. Let them know before you are forced to face the misfortune I have had to face. Look each person in your family in the eye and let them know how much you love them. And then tell them why you love them. Don't let that chance pass you by. Please. PLEASE. 

Let it go, let it go

For years I've heard the expression, "The best is yet to come!" More often than not, this is heard at the first of the year. But what if you know, deep down inside, the best has come and gone? For those of us who have lost very close family members, we know that it will never be that good again. We know it to the core of our being. Especially, if you are like me, and had the best wife in the world and you had to tell her goodbye. Especially if you had to tell the best child who ever lived the same thing just a few years earlier. 

My best is behind me. What is left are incredible memories that sometimes break through the crust of grief and sprout a beautiful picture of what life was once like. Like pictures from a favorite vacation, they can be revisited in your mind but they will never be revisited the same way again. But they can be revisited. 

Life will never be the same. We have lost the love of our life and cannot imagine life ever being as good as it was. But we can make new memories. And they can be good memories. And, like a good meal, you can have your favorite dish at different places. As soon as we tell ourselves that it will never be good again we limit ourselves. We shut the door on new experiences, new people, new memories. 

If the best is truly yet to come how amazing it will be. If we feel we already have had the best and God has something more for us, are we truly bold enough to tell God that it can't be good again. That it, unbelievably, can't be better. 

It would be difficult (dare I say, impossible) to believe that God could ever give me anyone better than my daughter or my wife. It is totally beyond comprehension for me. But, far be it from me to limit a limitless God.

 

The best is yet to come? Alright God, go prove it!

A walk remembered, but almost not taken

Being in meetings for the last couple of days means lack of exercise and lots of food. So, when I've had the chance, I've gone for a walk or at least stepped outside to soak up the sun. This morning my first walk began with a pair of 2yo twins and their mother who was kind enough to bring them to visit. As we began walking we followed the path to a point where it leads under a bridge. As the cars rumbled above, one of the twins was hesitant to go under the bridge. Each noise brought a look of panic until he reached for me. I scooped him up and, no matter how hard his mother and I tried to convince him otherwise, he did not want to go under the bridge.

After lunch later I decided to let the vitamin D wash over me. And, as I stood there alone, the tears began to flow again. One of my friends came up and stood with me and consoled me for a bit. Then we went for a walk. We walked under the bridge and down the path further. The path followed the river and turned into a beautiful walk. The trees were a beautiful variety of fall colors. We encountered families, dogs, joggers, and bike riders as we walked for about a mile. It was very calming. 

At the close of the meetings for the day I came back to my room, changed shoes, and walked in the opposite direction, this time alone. Again the walk was beautiful and I began to focus on the beauty of what I was seeing and less on the beautiful woman I would not be sharing it with. And the walk brought a little peace to my day. 

Then I got to thinking about my early morning walking companion. I would guess that his little mind has forgotten already the walk. He is no longer in a panic from the noise of overhead traffic. But he is also not remembering the beautiful scene beyond the bridge. He didn't get to see the other people, the bikes, or the dogs. This boy did not enjoy these things because of his fear of the unknown. He didn't know what made the sound, he only knew that he did not like it. 

My journey is filled with the unknown. Much of it I fear. I am being forced to cross under the bridge and I don't like the sounds of it. But if I don't cross over, if I don't break through my fears, then I may never see the beauty that could be waiting for me on the other side. And I don't want to miss out on the beauty that may await me. 

What about you? What gives you fear? What keeps you from crossing over and missing out on the beauty that God may have waiting for you? Are you willing to take that chance? I will if you will.