Live, Laugh, Love

This sweet little phrase has become so common!  Tell me you haven't seen a hundred wooden plaques, stenciled picture frames, and wall decals with this on them!  It's well worn, perhaps overused, but really, perhaps it deserves a closer look.

Seems only in the darkest days we lament our neglect to clinging more tightly to these 3 simple rules.  As we aim to grasp hold of the ordinary amazing graces between our tears, let me urge you friends:

LIVE fully. Don't get caught up in the imperfections of the day.  Let the crumbs stay on the floor of the family car, the library books go a few days late, and let go of the guilt for hastily whipping up mac-n-cheese for dinner.  Spend those moments drinking deep the beauty in every gift to be found, the mighty swell of lungs still puffing life. 

LAUGH often.  How light the heart feels with the rush of roaring laughter.  A giggle brought to someone's lips is something long remembered.  Find those smiles, the humor, the inside joke, and engage it often.  A merry heart does good like medicine.

LOVE much.  Don't hold back.  Bear your scars and dare to let someone in, loving with all abandon.  You never know when you may be the only soul to show that person love.

We are rich, so blessed in every dawn of our days, don't wait to grasp hold of the best of life until it's too late.  We have today.

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Scars and Stripes

July has been a tough month the past few years. (The Why of July)  This July though, is going to pack a different punch.  I have felt it coming the past few days, and by the tears and misbehavior the kiddos have been showing, their hearts must sense it too.  It's always been funny to me how your soul remembers the day is coming, even when your mind isn't thinking about it.

Grandpa and Ben

It started with the day of my sweet Grandpa's home going, the 4th of July.  A perfectly fitting day, since he was one of the most patriotic men I know.  Then it was Ellianna's passing on the 14th of July.  It's hard to go through that day without remembering the devastating events that took place.  This year, the 2nd of July will be another day of mixed emotion.  July 2nd is the day I became a big sister.  My brother Ben came into the world 29 years ago on my mom's birthday.  Being so close to Independence Day, it was natural that the 4th became an extension of his birthday, and his favorite holiday.    He waited all year long for the opening of the first firework stands.  Each year, his own firework show grew, to the point where he was having them shipped from the places who supply professional shows, and his small town of Sterling brought a crowd each year to enjoy his masterpiece.

This July will be a salty-sweet month of grief and celebration.  We will be remembering and honoring our precious ones that are absent, and celebrating the moments that we enjoyed with each of them.  We will cheer my little sister as she begins life with her new husband, while quietly sorrowing over the empty chair.

We are immeasurably thankful that we do not grieve without hope.   We know where our loved ones are, held close, and surrounded by joy and healing.  We will miss them in our celebrations this July, but we will fondly replay our happiest memories, and whisper prayers of thanks for their salvation.

I hope that somewhere in Heaven there is a firework show like none Ben has ever seen...

Pyro...yep, that's about right.

Birthday buddies

Celebrating Ben

My first ever attempt at a "fancy" cake was for Ben.

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Joy Comes in the [Mourning]

"There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning."  That is a phrase we often hear as struggles are afoot.  I have to tell an embarrassing story... the day after Ellie died, my kind neighbor gave me a cd she had burned with one song on it.- "Joy Will Come," by The Desperation Band.  I put it in and listened to the first few sentences before ejecting it.  Anger bubbled.  I thought, how dare she!  To imply this bleeding of my heart would ever turn to something beautiful.  I never said anything, but I didn't pull that cd out again until a good two years later.  Two years when I could see beyond the crippling pain, and know there are pieces of good falling together because of our loss.  I could finally hear the hope in a song for the broken.

Ever since we went through a grief support group/grief study as a family, we have talked about someday leading one of our own.  For the longest time though, the heaviness of my heart kept me from believing that I could minister to anyone else.  Now we are stepping out.  Our awesome new church is supporting us in getting a Grief Share up and running, and we are thankful, so thankful that He can use our loss to reach out to the hurting.

There is another battle we fight, one that is only shared with our innermost circles.  A pain that brings fear, heartbreak, and uncertainty.  Right now, I don't  know how to get through the muck, but I know with certainty that one day, when we are emerging on the other side of this storm, there will be a whole new opportunity for me to share with others who are in the thick of it.  That's pretty humbling, to think He can use ME.

The greatness of life is not in avoiding the struggles, but in leaning into them, being changed by them, and then using them to bring hope to crumbled hearts.

God's plan wasn't for this world to be broken, but He has been faithful to make beautiful things from our suffering.  What will you do with your battle?

"Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning." Ps 30:5

 

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Grace Waves

Perusing the local thrift store in L.A., we came across one of those finds that makes you dance right there in the aisle.  A very nice boogie board. . . for about an eighth of the price of a new one! Baylie and I were so stoked we could hardly stand waiting the 10 minute drive to get to the beach!

My brave little beauty

We had so much fun!  Baylie and I were the only ones brave enough to get out deep enough for the big waves, but everybody sort of tried it at least once, even Bella just barely gliding on it while I strapped it to my foot. 

It was grace for my body, I felt like a kid, healthy and strong. We laughed and laughed.

Colby did amazing! This boy quickly got over his timid shyness of the ocean, an charged for it every chance he could.  Oh my word this kid is giving me gray hair!  I have never had one so adventurous!

No fear!

Wipeout!

We had such a blast, and it was great to enjoy ourselves and the time together.  Mark is terrified of the ocean, but we are plotting to get him out there on the board by the end of the week!

Baylie getting read to head for another wave

Picking up to go again!

 

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Sweet Escape

We were so thankful for the reprieve of Mark being at the Air Force Academy the past 4 years, and him hardly having to leave us.  I was disappointed when only a few weeks after moving to his new assignment that he was told he would be sent TDY for a few weeks in June, and then at least 6 more times throughout this year.  However, my disappointment turned to glee when I realized since the Air Force was paying for him to drive out to Los Angeles, we could fill up the car with people for no extra charge!

The rest of May was spent packing and planning and giggling as we counted down the days to balmy, warm days by the ocean.  Packing for this growing family is no small feat anymore, and let’s face it, mom better do it all just to make sure we are not having to buy emergency socks, toothbrushes, and swimsuits once we get there!

We are just over a week into our 2 week getaway, and we have had as much fun and adventure as we could pack in.  Mornings are delicious hot breakfast provided by our hotel, and then everyone crawling into the one big bed and snuggling up for some Food Network while we wait for the morning fog to clear.  The rest of the day is filled with swimming, finding treasures at the beach, venturing out into the city to find clean and safe places to explore, and more swimming.  We have enjoyed watching sea creatures during dinner on the pier, got to bring my sweet grandma some cheer in the hospital, and have a gorgeous walk along the canals of Venice beach.  More fun is to be had with our incredible thrift store find, but more on that later.

What an unexpected blessing this retreat has been, for both our bodies and minds.  God is good, all the time, whether we had gotten to tag along with Mark, or had to get through the weeks at home without him!  We are blessed.

Ya sleep wherever you find a place!

Bella looking so grown up!

The most delicious cupcake!

Peeking out.  He points at every car and yells "car!!"

The freshest fruits

Eeeeeewwwww!

The only thing I like about snails is their cute li'l eye stalks.  Jacob found out if you poke them they scrunch up their whole face!!!

Taking in all the wonder

This cuteness!
 

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Broken Hallelujah

The Lord has promised good to me.  He has promised, and yet sometimes I feel so... so disappointed.

My story, the story of grace and forgiveness and hope? It's not the story I imagined.  I struggle to accept the wearisome battles I am facing.  I wrestle with the painful realities that have replaced some of my dreams.  Is that the point; reach the point of giving up? Perhaps only in my giving up, He will make something beautiful of my story.  I am weary. So weary.  Searing tears have brought me begging, "please take this, carry it for me because it's too heavy right now."

Will He gather the sharp fringes of my story, until I can bear this chapter?  My desperation to see the beauty woven with these threads runs deep. I want to believe there is loveliness beneath the turmoil.  I want to see that the salty burn of tears has watered to life something magnificent, and that the conclusion of my story will be something to cheer about.

I know He knows the story of every tear, and even in the deep raggedness of these chapters, I have not walked alone. I've seen joy and I've seen pain, and oh my weakened soul may you not forget the mountains you have stood on!  It is so easy for me to see the darkness swallow the light in the epicenter of my brokenness, but hasn't He promised:

3 

"A bruised reed he will not break,

   and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.

In faithfulness he will bring forth justice."

Isaiah 42:3

That's me; I am bruised, I am smoldering, and He is faithful.  He will vindicate my inmost hurts and soften the sharp points of my disappointments.  Hold on soul! Don't let go of His promises; they are true even in the murk of these hard, hard days.  Sit back, and let God be the one who writes your story. When life is filled with things you don't expect, respond with trust, worship, hope.  He wants your praise, even your broken hallelujahs.

Have you ever seen the back of a piece of cross-stitching?  It is messy! Messy and confusing and not pretty to look at.  But the front of the piece? It's beautiful, every stitch placed perfectly.  Without that messy back story, that work of art wouldn't exist.  I hope that will be true of my story; disheveled magnificence.

     

How do you find peace in the difficult pages of your life?

 

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Crippled

The other day I came across  this picture I hadn't seen before.  It is simply, beautiful.  My heart melted to see such a perfect freeze-frame of her little button nose and her sweet, tiny lips.  Truly a gift to this mommy's heart.

This picture though, it released a wave of  hurt so deep I sat in my closet and cried; an ugly, red-faced,  runny-nosed, swollen-eyed, hiccupy cry.  I didn't cry because she's precious, I cried because I. Am. So. Tired. Of. Missing. Her.

Her 3rd birthday this March, I really felt like I had turned a corner.  I finally felt joy, genuine joy about where she is, and really came to a place of  being happy looking forward to being with her again someday.  I felt like I could see Heavenward, past the deep wounds that had been left.  I was able to smile for all the good memories.

One step forward, three steps back.  I don't know why; I think the death of my brother brought me back to those days, the horror days of  losing her and walking empty-carseat home, folding vacant blankets, packing up hopes and dreams.

I am tired of being a bereaved mother, tired of  being told how I should and shouldn't grieve, tired of  all the things that remind me that she's gone.  I am worn by the tears always hovering beneath the surface, by the questions, and the guilt, and the sheer agony of moving on without her.

I can barely stand right now, and I'm wondering where You are, wondering when You will make beauty from these ashes. . I know you can hear my heart.  It's raw, it's exposed, and it's waiting for Your healing touch.

This broken bone, it's never going to heal right.  Please help me learn to dance with this limp.

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