Tag Archives: memories

Dusting off my happiness

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Looking through old posts on this blog, which was started quite a long time ago, is like looking through my parents’ old photo albums when I visit their house. I read stories I wrote about our parenting adventure that I had forgotten, lessons I’ve learned in life and keep relearning. I find memories, some that make me laugh, some that give me a lump in my throat, that have gotten covered up by others falling on top of them in my mind like stacks of papers getting dusty from no one shuffling through them for a while. Sometimes I read what I wrote and think, “Wow, was that me writing that?” I haven’t written for a long time and miss it. It helps me process what I’m feeling, thinking and learning, even though apparently I forget those things before too long.

For reasons I won’t go into detail explaining, the past 9-10 years were peppered with chronic stress and anxiety, which caused some depression, and often numbness. Continue reading →

Joy Unspeakable

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I think when most people hear the word “joy” they think of those moments when we are, as Elizabeth Bennet so beautifully puts it in the movie “Pride and Prejudice”, incandescently happy. Joy is happiness that wells up and spills over. Those celebration moments that we’ll remember forever, the mountaintop experiences that make us pause to soak in, gasp in wonder, or give a deep sigh of contentment…those are moments of joy.

The standout moments in life that covered me in the heart-bursting, gold-sparkling, warm, fuzzy, happiness type of joy are when I walked the aisle with my dad toward my love and when each of our babies was born and we heard “it’s a girl!” for each one.

I had an experience of overwhelming peace and love one summer in the San Bernandino mountains, alone with God by a creek, laying on a rock in the sun. I can’t describe how close I felt to God that day, like I was laying right in the palm of His hand.

I couldn’t even cry the day our oldest daughter got married because I was so full of happiness and love I thought my heart would burst. And if you know me, that’s saying something. It doesn’t take much to make me cry.

Those were definitely joy unspeakable moments.

As I’ve walked this path called life, particularly the path beside and behind Jesus, I’ve learned there is another side of joy. I would not have guessed when I was young that joy would often be accompanied by, or preceded by, sorrow and pain.

Sitting in a waiting room after getting a cancer diagnosis, heart beating hard, mind racing, God gave me a vision of Him standing on a path lined with grass that curved off into the distance. He stood turning to look back with a hand reaching out to me as if to say, “Come on. I’m going with you.” A golden sun shone so brightly behind Him all I could see was His silhouette. Peace washed over me and I remembered I belong to Him. He sees me, He cares. I’m not alone. Joy.  (Even now as I remember and picture it I’m comforted)

I’ve heard stories of a family gathered in a hospital room praying together, holding one another, singing hymns while they surround one they love who is peacefully, sometimes even eagerly, reaching for Jesus and going to heaven. In the deep shadow of hurt and loss, a faint light grows when they think of their loved one finally home where they belong, completely whole and with God. They are thankful this person lived, thankful for all the memories, so thankful the one they loved knew the Savior and they will be reunited with them one day. Even amidst sobs they thank God and have joy.

Joy is born in thankfulness. It is knowing you belong to God, the affirmation that because You are His He loves you, will never forget you or leave you, and is right with you ALL the time, no matter what. Belonging. Love. Hope. Joy.

Joy gradually emerges in surrender and sacrifice when things turn out differently than you hoped or dreamed, but instead of falling into bitterness you turn to Jesus. You are willing to give in and remind yourself you’re not in control, you’re not God, but You know Him and He IS in control…and He is good. You yield, you surrender to God’s ways, you trust and thank Him anyway. Joy.

Remember Stephen, the martyr? He practically exploded with truth when he testified to the Jewish leaders who rejected Jesus. They tried to silence Him by killing his body. But as Stephen’s heart stretched to bursting with love and worship, he seemed to ignore the rocks bruising and cutting him as he looked up toward the sky and exclaimed, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man seated at the right hand of God!” He was captivated by the truth and by His Savior. Even in his painful death, He had joy.

I’m still learning about joy: genuine, rich, enduring, deep-from-the-gut-and-soul joy that comes from choosing to walk with God in gratitude whatever the circumstance.

There have been hard, sad times in the past, are some now, and will be some to come. In those times we can’t rely on our emotions, but on what we know. My husband and I can agree that we know God loves us, He cares, He has always been faithful to us, He will make a way and He has given us so much to be thankful for.

We may not always feel like dancing or shouting or even smiling, but we thank God and trust Him…

and so we have joy.

“Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice!

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:4,6-7 NLT

 

Let go, my soul

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I’ve been trusting in God since I was a little girl. I first heard Him and felt Him tug at my heart when I was very young. Back then, trust looked like listening to Bible stories, praying with my family, singing along in worship at church, listening and learning from my daddy’s sermons…childlike faith.  

As a teenager, I remember writing in my journal at night before bed, pouring out my heart to Jesus and reading my Bible to find guidance and encouragement.  Trust was me believing Jesus was my friend, my confidant, someone who would hold my heart through elation and heartbreak, crushes, questions, and insecurities.  I trusted in forgiveness when I did something stupid or messed up.

Through college and into adulthood, trust looked like seeking God with friends in Bible study and prayer, believing He had a plan for me, surrendering and saying “If you want me to be single all my life it’s okay,” then finding He had a special partner picked for me. 

John and I trusted God would help us know how to be parents.  Trust looked like depending on Him to provide even the most basic needs through lean times.  He once showed me I should trust Him as freely and without care as my little girls trusted us to take care of them.  

Sometimes trust in the young mom years looked like closing myself in the bathroom, near tears, telling God, “You said if we ask for wisdom you would give it. Well I need some right now!”  Trust was me believing God wouldn’t let me scar my children for life by mistakes I made.

At the sound of a cancer diagnosis, trust was something I was grasping for in desperation.  Do you believe I trust you, God, even though fear won’t seem to completely go away?  Does it mean my faith is lacking if I still feel anxious, if my heart trembles and hurts at the thought of not being here with my husband and girls anymore?  I can’t explain how, but God showed me clearly that He was just ahead on the path, around the bend, with hand reached back for me, making a way for me.  So I trusted Him.

There have been so many more faces of trust along the way, too many to recount here.

Trust. Critical foundation for any relationship. God has earned my trust and never broken it, though sometimes He has stretched my faith to the point I thought it would snap. When I’m fighting fear or the urge to try and orchestrate outcomes in my life or in the life of someone I love, I remember what He’s done in the past and consciously choose to trust Him.  Trust is a step out, a surrender of will and the demand to know. Trust is living in this day.

A recent favorite song says it this way, “Through it all, my eyes are on You. Throught it all, it is well. So, let go, my soul, and trust in Him. The wind and waves still know His name.” 1

In other words, God is the same as He was the last time He came through for me. His intentions and ability haven’t changed, His love as boundless as ever. He keeps His promises. He never leaves, though He will walk us through some pretty awful, dark places. 

So, let go, friend, of the need to know, of control, of wanting your way, of fears. Open hands and arms wide and feel freedom, like a bird taking flight into a steady supporting wind, floating and soaring.  You can trust God.

1 It Is Well by Kristene DiMarco, Bethel Music 

Remembering Flo

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Today would have been my Grandma Neal’s 90th birthday.  Five years ago, on a December day in Columbus, Ohio, grandma was on her way to her second Christmas party gathering of the day, blacked out while driving and drove off the road.  By the time the ambulance got her to the hospital, she had already gone to be with Jesus.

My mom and her brothers are going to celebrate her today, scattering her ashes (what remains of her earthly “shell”) at the foot of “her mountain” in Huachuca City, Arizona. Grandma used to live out there in the Sierra Vista valley surrounded by desert hills and it’s the perfect resting place.  She would have loved knowing they are doing that today, and that they’re doing it together.

I miss her.  As I’ve thought about her this week, a fresh sadness at her absence in our lives has washed over me.  There was so much good about my grandmother, who wasn’t perfect of course, but was a vibrant, genuine, extremely loving woman of God.

I miss her impassioned voice when she prayed to Jesus, whom she loved more than anything or anyone.  I miss hearing her cheerful voice and laughter and seeing her make strangers into friends at the grocery, the bank, restaurants and even at the door of her apartment, inviting the pizza delivery boy to church.

I remember so many things, so many good memories are swirling around in my heart today.  One that stands out is how, following my mastectomy, my mom and grandma came to take care of me and help John with the house and the girls.  After mom left, grandma stayed longer and watched over me, brought me my meals, told me to take naps, sat with me and talked, prayed with me, and folded laundry while I sat on the couch.  It was a precious time and it was the way she loved people the best.

Grandma was a hands on person, she showed her love by serving.  For a time she worked in the V.A. hospital treating old soldiers with respect, cheering them up with her ever-present smile, washing their old tired bodies and keeping them comfortable.  For years she watched over and took tirelessly care of my grandfather when he was battling Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease.  I remember one time she went over to my other grandmother’s house, Grandma Shultz was wheelchair bound at the time, and gave her a decent bath.  Humility and love was wrapped up in her tall, fair-skinned, Norwegian body.

She made friends with her neighbors, no matter what nationality.  At her last apartment complex she had befriended several Indian families and had them over for dinner, took them jello salads, and enjoyed dinner in their homes.

She was acting out her love for Jesus by loving people.  She did it well.  I want to be more like her.  I love her so much, still, and miss her so much today my heart aches.

When her ashes are scattered it will be meaningful and special, but Grandma isn’t in those ashes.  She’s with God in heaven.  If Grandma had her way she’d be surrounded by cute little white doggies, lots of flowers and maybe even a concrete donkey or set of frogs on a love seat in her heavenly garden.  I can imagine her sitting at the foot of a mountain with Jesus, smiling and talking with Him, praying still for her children and their children to know Him.

I remember you, Grandma Neal, and I love you!  Someday I’ll sit with you there.

In honor of this, the peewee’s day of birth

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Sixteen years ago, about this time actually, I was holding my newest baby girl, Kristine Michele.  I was exhausted but elated.  The nurses had, for some reason, taken a long time to get her washed up, measured, and so forth and so by the time they brought her to me in my room I was dying to get my arms around her.  She likes to tell the story, after seeing her birth on video, of how she cried and cried when she was first born but the moment they laid her on my chest she immediately stopped and just looked at me with her big brown eyes.  You can’t recreate or fully describe moments like that.  An instant bond was created with this new little one, who tried coming out with one hand extended above her head, as if to shake our hands and announce herself to the world.  When I was growing up I always thought I’d be a good mom to boys, since I was such a tomboy.  God knew better and blessed me with three girls instead and Kristine rounded out the family well.  She was a really happy baby, probably partly due to being third and her parents being much more relaxed this time around.  She was delighted to be entertained by her big sisters goofy antics and stories and was soon up and walking to follow them around.  They probably don’t know how much she has always looked up to them, how much she still does, and how much she loves them.

She talked earliest of the three, walked earliest of the three and was soon putting on shows, singing songs while doing little jigs, making us laugh, and giving us “bombs” Continue reading →

Kaitlin Elizabeth, Kaity-kait, Kaikin

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I remember so well the day we met her.  Early in the morning she let us know she was coming.  Of course, at that point we didn’t know if she was a she or a he.  Before long the mystery was revealed (as the nurse eloquently exclaimed “there’s no pee pee!”) and we were holding our tiny, soft treasure with black fuzzy hair and dark eyes.  I love the moment when they first handed my baby to me and I held her to me, eyes locked on each other.  So you’re the one I’ve been waiting to see all this time!

Some thoughts about Kaitlin on this her 18th birthday: Continue reading →

Remember

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Memories.  A mystery of the mind.  Somehow in the electrical wonderland of our brain cells and zapping of nerve synapses we are able to log away and then call to mind again people, places, events, smells, words, songs, emotions, tastes, sounds and more from our past.  Might be from long ago or just five minutes ago but most of us can remember.

Some not so great memories get pushed behind others so that they only show themselves in crisis, hypnosis, or maybe when intentionally going through our mind’s files so to speak.  We don’t often want to pull out the folder with negative encounters, painful losses, or misunderstandings in it.   Most of us would rather reminisce about good times – pleasant memories and thoughts that make us smile or drum up warm fuzzies. Continue reading →

Grandma came to see me

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Last night I dreamed I was at some meeting or seminar with my boss and his wife, Cindy. Each morning of this seemingly week-long meeting, my grandmother (who died over a year and a half ago) came to see me, gave me a hug, said some encouraging cheerful words and left. On the last day of the meeting (somehow I knew this in my dream) I realized it was also the last time she was coming to see me. I sat with my boss and his wife at a table, feeling a lump grow in my throat. Cindy asked me, “You’re going to really miss her aren’t you?” I began to cry, not able to hold it back anymore. I awoke and was actually crying a little on my pillow.

I do miss my Grandma. It’s funny how weeks will go by and I won’t think about it much, but then out of the blue a memory of her will surface or an odd, wonderful dream like this one and the pain of her not being there anymore bobs to the surface.

What will my daughters and hopefully grandchildren remember about me someday when I’m gone, not coming to see them anymore?

The first things that pop into my mind when I think of Grandma are her joy for life, her love for Jesus and openness in talking about him to anyone and everyone, her cheerfulness and often humorous enthusiasm, her smile, her loving pet names for us like “dolly”, and her faithful, tenacious love. I knew she was behind me 200% no matter what. She made sure of that.

So it doesn’t surprise me that she’d make a cameo appearance in one of my dreams to remind me how much she loves me. I look forward to the day when I’ll get to hug her again, kiss her soft cheek and see those twinkling Norwegian blue eyes. I won’t have to miss her anymore.