September 7s

September 7th is a day that has the entirety of life embedded in it.

It is the day I celebrate the birth of the most important human being in my life, my husband Dan.

It is also the day I mourn the single most influential person in my life: my mother, who went Home on my husband's birthday.

Ever since 2004, September 7 has been full of conflict in my heart. I celebrate his presence and mourn her absence, which is the truest reality of ALL our lives as we live each day "in between."

On any given day, we ride the spectrum between highs and lows, joy and sorrow, dancing and mourning. I choose to face the September 7s of my life as a reminder of God's fulfilled promise in Isaiah 61:3, when He replaces despair with praise, mourning with joyous blessings, and ashes with crowns of beauty.

Happy Homecoming anniversary to my mom, and happy birthday to my best friend! Thank you both for giving me the best reminder of God's goodness.

God, thank You for the gifts of September 7!

For Those Who Mother Me

In church this morning, we sang an old hymn called "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty." I flashed back to the Sundays of my childhood when I stood by my parents, singing the same song.

This memory was a heavy one and tears pricked my eyes because it is Mother's Day and my mother is gone. But before we even made it to the "hallelujah" chorus of the song, God had already filled my heart with images of women who have mothered me and loved me well.

My sister, Mary, came to mind first. Our family lore says she started mothering me the day my parents brought me home from the hospital. She took on the physical chores of nurturing me when I was an infant, but those chores have since matured into nurturing my soul. Over the years she's become my sounding board, my memory keeper, and my bossy kick-in-the-pants surrogate mother.

Next, images of my friends' faces flashed in my mind as I sang. These are the women who text me morning greetings and prayers to start my day, much like Mom used to wake me in the morning before school with a chorus of "Get out of bed you sleepy head." These women regularly check in with me, care about the state of my heart, ask about my kids (and love them) as if they were their own, share my grief by sharing theirs, and encourage me to be vulnerable and authentic. They call me on my crap when I try to hide my pain or when I get all sassy and crabby over the lemons life dishes out. They struggle in the trenches with me and carry my burdens with me.

Other faces flooded my memory while I sang:

My mother-in-law mothered me well last year when she told me to chase my dreams now saying, "Do it now or you'll regret it the rest of your life." She's one of the people who compelled me to attend a life-changing conference, and her words still echo in my head when I feel small or crazy for pursuing my passion.

My kids' teachers have shared their insights about my children's temperaments and honed my mothering skills with their observations and encouragement. I am forever indebted to Jackson's second grade teacher, whose presence and words lifted guilt off my shoulders when she shared a story of her daughter's growth with me.

Jackson's third grade teacher tenderly leads me to advocate for him and she encourages me immensely when she tells me the things she can see in his character that reflect our shared values. When I became a mom, I assumed my kids' teachers would help them grow; I never guessed they'd bless me too!

Nothing and no one will ever replace Brenda Steele, the mother I lost on September 7, 2004. I will forever have a piece of my heart missing, until I am reunited with her again.

But in God's infinite goodness, He has gifted me with people who have helped me feel less alone, supported my dreams, prayed on my behalf, and reminded me Whose I am.

Mothers have taken so many forms in my life: Neighbor. Former coworker. Pastor. Therapist. Cousin. Aunt. Stepmother. (Heck, even my husband has taken on the role of mothering my heart when it was broken and needed mending.)

Happy Mother's Day to the people who treat me like one of their own!

Scaffolding

This blog post centers around an event that happened a few weeks ago. I’ve been letting this sift through my heart for a while before writing about it, because it happened in a dark period and there is pain surrounding it. Also, writing about it shows chinks in my armor, and vulnerable is never a comfortable place to be. But I’ve shared this with a few close friends and I think there is value in sharing it here, mostly because one day my children will read it and know they aren’t alone.

The dark side of motherhood is living with the feeling of being inconsequential. The world pays lip service to motherhood, saying it’s the “Most Important Job Ever.” It sounds like a holy calling – which it is – but it’s a calling that comes with tremendous strings attached. It’s a calling that requires the withering of the person you used to be.

I’ve bristled under the yoke of motherhood, because – frankly – I am self-centered and don’t want “Elizabeth” to wither so “Mom” can flourish. I watched my own mother be Mom exceptionally well; so well that when I (the last of 3 kids) went to college, Mom no longer had a daily need to mother and the “Mom” part of her withered. But by then, the individual she used to be (Brenda) had been smothered for so long there was nothing left for Mom to transition back into being. I swore this wouldn’t happen to me.

Twelve and a half years into mothering, I’m realizing it’s inevitable.

At the start of last month, I hit a brick wall personally. I looked at the writing and photography dreams I’d been pursuing and saw only a bunch of smoke and mirrors. I was spending energy trying to build the Elizabeth Empire while also trying to build the Katie Empire, the Jackson Empire, and be co-architect in building the Dan Empire. Suddenly, it became clear to me: my empire needed to wait.

I had no business trying to build ELIZABETH during this season of my life when I have an 8-year-old and 12-year-old at home, requiring so much of my patience and passion. I also have a husband who needs his own space and creative outlets, which he wasn’t getting because I was busy chasing my own passions. I told myself that ELIZABETH needed to wait. I needed to be – I HAD to be – satisfied with my existence as Laundry Washer, Grocery Shopper, and Toilet Paper Changer.

One morning in early December, I got the kids on the bus then spent hours in quiet time before God. I begged Him to please-please-oh-please take away my longings and desires to be something other than Toilet Paper Changer. I read scriptures that supported my begging: verses about dying to self and especially the verse Paul wrote asking God to take away the thorn in his side. I realized the more time I spent begging Him, the more I felt the tug to become the person God made me to be – which is more than just a Toilet Paper Changer. Being the ultra mature person I am, I decided stop talking to God. If being with Him meant feeling desire for “more,” then I’d simply stop being with Him.

I needed to become okay with feeling invisible. And when you're meeting with El Roi (the God Who Sees Me), it's kind of hard to be invisible.

Later that same day (of course, because God has to pound lessons into my head sometimes), I met the kids at the bus stop so we could rush to piano lessons. Katie got in the car and I asked what the best part of her day was. I really didn’t want to ask because I really didn’t want to feel. I wanted to be a numb robot Toilet Paper Changer but I know “good” moms ask about their kids’ days, so I did too. She responded there had not been anything good about her day. This broke into my pity party enough for me to ask what happened.

Katie told me about a girl at school we’ll call Ashley. Ashley draws so well that friends give her lots of attention. Katie prides herself on her drawing abilities, but doesn’t get the accolades Ashley gets. I replied to Katie, “So you want all the attention Ashley gets?”

Katie’s face looked like she sucked on a lemon as she said, “What? No! I don’t want attention!” (because she has always been a kid who shies away from the limelight). I responded with, “But you don’t want to be ignored?”

Sheepishly, she said, “No. I don’t want to be ignored.”

I summed it up for her by saying, “You want to be seen but not noticed.” And this phrase is what caused my throat to constrict and my eyes to sting with tears because this desire deeply resonated in my soul: I don’t want to be Invisible Mom (a.k.a. Toilet Paper Changer), but I don’t want to be Spotlight Elizabeth (a.k.a. Famous Author). I want to be lowercase elizabeth, who matters as a person and not just as a role.

With sobs threatening to escape my mouth, I told Katie I’d been feeling the same way all day long: invisible and inconsequential.

To help her understand her situation better, I described it like this: Ashley is the Taj Mahal. People come from all over the world to tour the Taj Mahal and wonder at its majesty. It sounded like Katie doesn’t want to be the Taj Mahal. She affirmed that, and also added that she doesn’t want to be a tourist going to visit someone else’s Taj Mahal. (“I’m not a groupie!”) However, she isn’t a shack that people should pass by and ignore.

I looked Katie in the eyes, as best as I could while driving, and told her this truth of my life: “Katie, you are the Taj Mahal to me.” Then I explained another truth of my life: as a mother, I feel like I am simply the scaffolding whose only purpose is to build the Taj Mahal. She didn’t know what scaffolding was and in one of God’s great moments of timing, we happened to be passing a construction site where scaffolding surrounded a building. I pointed out the window and showed her what scaffolding looks like.

I described scaffolding for her, saying it’s construction equipment made of common metal that isn’t very precious. Scaffolding can be dinged and lost and replaced, and it isn’t very useful after a building has reached a certain construction stage unless you’re restoring or cleaning.

With a trembling chin and cracking voice, I told her that’s what I feel like as a mother. I’m the support God uses to build the Taj Mahal of Katie’s life, knowing the focus is on the Taj Mahal and not the tools used to build it. I told her this so she would know that I know what it’s like to want to be seen but not noticed.

I told her this so she would know she isn’t alone. I told her this to minister to her heart. And wouldn’t you know it, but that girl ministered to mine.

Because in the next breath, she looked at me with all the compassion her body could hold and said, “But Mommy, you’re MY Taj Mahal. You’re everything I want to be!” When I scoffed, she pointed out the qualities I have that she’s striving for: creativity and faith and really good handwriting. (!)

I told her she shouldn’t try to be me; she should be Katie-The-Not-Taj-Mahal-But-Not-A-Shack-Either. With a wink, I told her I’m glad she’s not a shack because shacks are usually only one story and don’t require scaffolding. Right now, she is in a Taj Mahal stage of her life. One day, she’ll meet a man and fall in love and become a townhome with him. Then she’ll have kids and become scaffolding for their Taj Mahals.

And then, I couldn’t talk anymore because I was broken inside. I simply reached over and held her hand and told her how much I love her, and we sniffled together for a few miles.


As much as I would like to say it did, this conversation didn’t cause a full course correction in my heart. As I mentioned above, I can be immature and thick-skulled. I went about the next few weeks continuing to act like a numb robot Toilet Paper Changer because it seemed easier to turn from my desires/dreams/callings than to chase them. There were days God would lay a devotion topic on my heart (like He regularly did when I was actively writing my devotional book), and I intentionally turned away from His nudge. I was disobedient and refused to jot any notes down for future writing sessions. I specifically reminded Him that I. Am. Not. Writing. Anymore. and would even catch myself folding my arms across my chest in defiance.

Sheesh. It’s a wonder He didn’t just strike me dead right then and there!

Even today, as I write this post, I would say I’m not completely out of the woods yet. Yes, I’ve stopped crossing my arms in defiance. Yes, I’ve jotted down a few nudges God has given me for devotional topics. But this time, I’m not charging full throttle into the writing calling like I did last July. That whole staying up late to write and exhausting myself (not to mention neglecting my husband and kids) isn’t sustainable. Besides, who really needs an Elizabeth Empire anyway?

I guess you could say I’m in a middle ground, the stage after the beginning but not quite before the end. I’m Taj Mahal Scaffolding with scaffolding of my own, deep in a reconstruction stage:

I’m talking to God again. I’m back in the War Room, listening and learning and leaning into Him. I’m grateful He always welcomes me back.
I’ve started reading a book called Simply Tuesday that is already rocking my world, causing me to reassess my Spotlight Elizabeth tendencies and swap them out for a nice bench or, in my case, a comfy couch for inviting friends to sit a spell.
I’m trying to instill new habits of slowing down (daily yoga, reading real books instead of Facebooks).
Just yesterday, I took a big step and asked a friend to intentionally mentor me through a wound that’s been festering for two years.
I’m scared, looking for hope. I’m tentative, looking for tenacity. I’m a Taj Mahal with scaffolding.

What a way to start the new year!

O Holy Night: Lyrical Christmas Countdown, Day 23

​Love means helping someone know his worth. It's showing another person she matters and is worth fighting for.

This lyric from O Holy Night, written by Adolphe Adam, is the epitome of God's love for us. Our souls didn't know their true value until Jesus came and showed us we are worth dying for. Can you fathom that? It hardly makes sense!

I bet the song O Holy Night has been recorded hundreds of times, but my very favorite version is by David Phelps. I love his version so much I listen to it year-round.

My only regret about it is I wish my parents could have heard this version before they died. Dad would have come unglued listening to David Phelps sing, and Mom would have sobbed the ugly cry because she always teared up when we sang O Holy Night in church. David's version of this song would have unraveled her!

Day 23: O Holy Night, written by Adolphe Adam, performed by David Phelps

Tent of Meeting

Chapter 33 in the book of Exodus describes a Tent of Meeting that Moses would set up outside the Israelites’ encampment during their years in the wilderness. This is the place Moses would go to hear the people’s requests, grievances, and concerns. This is also the place Moses would hang out with God. Exodus 33:11 says God would speak directly to Moses, “as one speaks to a friend.” Moses spent so much time with God that his face started to take on a shine or a glow, and this glow was so unnatural that it scared the Israelites. Moses started wearing a veil to avoid making his friends uncomfortable.

Author and Pastor Pete Scazzero preached at our church three weekends ago, and discussed how silence and solitude are critical elements in our relationship with God. Scazzero has a book called Emotionally Healthy Spirituality Day by Day: A 40-Day Journey with the Daily Office. I bought a copy for Dan’s birthday, then bought one for my Kindle so I could practice what Scazzero calls the “Daily Office” with Dan.

Each day’s Office begins with two minutes of “silence, stillness and centering before God” then moves into a scripture reading, devotional, and prayer. The Office ends with two more minutes of silence. In his sermon, Scazzero explained he learned about the Daily Office by studying and living with monks for a short time. Monks practice their Office anywhere from six to eight times a day. Scazzero’s book provides only two per day, knowing our society has enough struggle with even that small amount.

The past two weeks, I start my mornings by lighting a candle, setting a timer for two minutes, then reading the morning Daily Office. I set the timer again for two minutes at the end, to finish with silence. I repeat this process in the afternoon before the kids get home from school. On one of these past days, I realized I have my own version of the Tent of Meeting already set up in my living room because I made a reading nook beside the couch for the kids this summer. I decided to start having my Daily Office in the nook, and it has become my own Tent of Meeting.

Yes, I know the mosquito net in my living room is a far cry from the tabernacle of the desert wilderness, because I don’t have the Ark of the Covenant or the fixings of the tabernacle to furnish my tent.

But I do have one thing Moses had: God. The Almighty. The I Am. And even though I am physically alone during my Daily Offices, I am not spiritually alone. My Father is with me, and we are spending quality time delighting in each other. I thought I’d share a photo of what time in my Tent of Meeting looks like.

During this morning’s Daily Office, the idea of Moses’ Tent of Meeting floated into my mind during the first two minutes of silence. I said to God, “Wouldn’t it be marvelous if I spent so much time with You that  my face glowed?” And then God allowed me to glimpse a general overview of the times in my life when I have been most present with Him: Times of grief. Fear. Pain. Tears. Anguish and despair.

Times of such devastating loss, like when my brother died and my heart went cold before I slowly started visiting God and trusting Him again.

Times of depression and anxiety, like when my first child was born and I came unglued from Postpartum Depression.

Times of bittersweet letting go, like when I carried my fading and dying parents back to their Father.

Times of stubbornness and defiance, like when I laid on the couch – right beside the spot where my Tent of Meeting is now located – and had a tantrum with God about my marriage (and how it didn’t revolve around me – really?).

Times of ache and confusion, like when the job I dreamed of didn’t quite make sense for me anymore.

God granted me these glimpses as a reminder of this truth: the more heartache I have in my life, the more time I spend with God.

Here I am, in my Tent of Meeting, telling God how I’d love to glow for Him. Yet I know that spending time with Him hasn’t always been a natural response for me when things are going peachy in my life. I’ve gotten to know God best through anguish and raw vulnerability. Approaching Him again and wanting to glow from my time with Him means there may be pain involved, too.

Am I okay with this?

My human response shouts to get off my fanny and run screaming from this insane idea of Meeting in Tents and, instead, get myself buried in a safe cave where Nobody. Can. Hurt. Me. But my spiritual self, the one that trusts in my Daddy’s love, says that nothing can harm me when He stands beside me. He wins, period. And because I’m His, I win, too.

Maybe the shine on Moses’ face was there because his face was wet with tears. Maybe the tears were from pain, but what if they were the tears that escaped his eyes when he sat with his Best Friend in the holiness?

Yeah, me too.

October 2013 Review

October passed in a flash. Here are the highlights.

Thanks to Groupon, I got to take a class with some of my coworkers friends. We created some cool glass trinket dishes. My friend Joan was a bit flustered by the activity, because (she says) creativity isn’t her thing. I was surprised because this evening seemed so relaxing and fun for me. I jumped right in to the glass fusing process and didn’t struggle with it at all. This isn’t a brag or a boast – it’s a “Yay God” moment because I love how He makes each of us with different passions and tendencies. Seeing Joan out of her element was a good reminder that I don’t often get out of my element. Joan said next time she’ll plan a basketball evening for us (she is a high school coach) so she can be in her comfort zone. Now THAT will definitely put me out of mine!

And speaking of Joan, this photo brings me such immense joy. It was taken on her 50th birthday. Our Campus Pastor and the Technical Arts Director used rolls of aluminum foil to cover her desk to “celebrate.” Joan was less-than-pleased, and I was laughing my head off. It was so great! This photo is still saved on my phone and every now and then, I look at it to get a giggle.

In my office, Thursday is a special day. It has turned in to Chick-fil-A Thursday. Someone makes a CFA run and brings it back to the office where we circle up the church’s soft seating in the lobby and share lunch together. I know this sounds silly (and makes me sound like a huge wuss who is desperate for social time [which is true]), but Thursday lunches are now a highlight of my work weeks. On this particular Thursday, we borrowed the cow costume and made a video in the office like the Geico commercial that is currently popular (the one with the camel walking through office cubicles talking about Hump Day). Our video was a hoot!

Jackson is enjoying Cub Scouts very much. Our whole family went to a day-long outing that included archery, shooting, fire making and knot tying stations, plus a bicycle obstacle course. We had lots of fun together, even though we got rained on and ended up with two hungry/crabby kids at the end. By this stage of parenting, I’m learning to expect that every time we go out.

Katie made the honor roll for the first quarter of 5th grade. We are proud of our brilliant daughter!

I wrote a little bit about our October trip to Disney World and Venice Beach, Florida. There is really too much to detail, so I’ll sum it up by saying I’m glad we went to Disney but there’s really no need to return. It was one of those trips our family wanted to take at least once, but it wasn’t the be-all-end-all vacation to end all vacations. (I’d rather load up an R.V. for our next vacation and hit the road without any structure or deadlines – or even lines, for that matter.) To be honest, the beach was more fun for us than Disney, but I don’t regret our Disney visit at all.

One of the cooler moments for us at Disney World was when we were walking through TomorrowLand and looked up to see our best friend’s name in the sky. I loved seeing a few other families take notice of it and pull out their cameras to capture the moment, too.

This photo is my favorite from our beach pictures. Jackson and I were floating in the water and playing our usual game of kissing and then throwing our heads back and shouting, “mwah!” I really really love this photo!

I also like this moment from our flight home. Katie cuddled up to me in the last row of the plane (dude, it is NOISY!) and read her book with her head on my lap.

Right after our nice vacation, I was scheduled for a biopsy which resulted in a cryoplasty procedure. I wouldn’t normally post about this on my blog, ya know… but it’s one of those things I’m including because the sole purpose of my blog is to detail my life for my kids. When Mom died, many pieces of her history died with her. There’s a lot I don’t know and wish I did. So posting this photo is a note for my daughter’s future reference, as much as for my own.

“So, this one time, I hit my mother-in-law’s car…” Sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn’t it? Except it isn’t a joke, although she was gracious enough to laugh about it and shrug it off. And I know this photo shows it wasn’t a big dent, but I still feel really bad for hitting my mother-in-law’s car. I was trying to go around it and pull into my garage, but (apparently) didn’t give a wide enough berth. Ugh.

Dan got tickets from a coworker and we went to a St. Louis Blues game in October. We haven’t been to a game in a few years, and it was fun to see the crazy fans and hockey brutes on the team. Hockey is a fun game, and fast-paced too.

Also in St. Louis sports, the Cardinals made it to the World Series. Even though they ultimately lost to the (very beardy) Boston Red Sox, our town still loves them – and our boy was so excited to cheer them on: “Go Cardinals. We know you can win.”

My job has undergone innumerable changes this year. One of the most recent changes is the addition of Saturday worship services at the campus where I work. We had a rehearsal the week before we went “live,” and the staff and volunteers attended the closed rehearsal. There was no kids ministry, so all the kids were in the service with us. It was a cool change for me to worship with  my kids and see them enjoy “big church.” I peeked at Jackson during the prayer, and this is what I saw. Sweet!

October means our annual visit to the local pumpkin patch.

I captured this moment when Jackson asked if he could brush Katie’s hair after her shower.

Flowers from Dan, just because.

The Mizzou Tigers are having a fantastic season. My kids are cheering them on!

Katie decided to be Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz for Halloween. I think the best part of the costume was she wore a dress (which is rare these days) AND I got to braid her hair (also rare).

After getting Jedi training at Hollywood Studios at Disney World, Jackson decided to be a Jedi for Halloween. Grandma made the brown robe for him, and I bought $10 boots from Walmart. The rest of the outfit was cobbled together from home and our neighbors closet (thanks for the belt, Sheryl!).

I had no desire to carve pumpkins this year, so I let the kids loose with Sharpies and markers. Two of our young neighbors were hanging out the night we decided to do this, so they colored some pictures too.

Coworkers/friends from our church had a bunch of us over for dinner one night. This photo is NOT their house; it’s a neighbor’s house. But I had to include it because that is THE biggest inflatable pumpkin I’ve ever seen.

Our kids’ school has two class parties each year: a Fall Party and a Valentine Party. I got to attend both kids’ parties on Halloween, and enjoyed watching the kids be all wiggly and the teachers be their fantastic selves.

And then, there was Trick-or-Treating with our neighbors. I look at this photo and see ghosts – and not because of the holiday! I see ghosts of the little toddlers and babies these kids used to be. I remember the costumes that were cuddly and sweet (Tigger, Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear) instead of the scary ones that have appeared more recently (zombie Prom queens, zombie soccer players, the headless horseman, ninjas). If these kiddos have changed, does this mean *I* have too?!

At the last minute, Katie and I turned her Sharpied pumpkin into a new creation. I can’t remember where I saw this idea online, but it isn’t my original idea. It turned out pretty cute, though. And a spider pumpkin is easier than you’d ever guess!

Life Changers

“I owe my life to three people: Jesus, Dan, and Lilian.”

In the past few years of my life, I have said this specific phrase repeatedly. If you’ve read my blog even once or twice, I’m pretty sure you know why I consider Jesus to be a life changer for me (Savior-Redeemer-Forgiver-Gracer [it isn’t technically a word but it SHOULD be!]).

Ditto on Dan, of course (best-friend-husband-daddy-extraordinaire).

But, Lilian? “Who the heck is that?” you ask. “And if she is such a life changer, why haven’t you mentioned her before, Elizabeth?” Good question. And here’s the short answer: I never mentioned her because I thought that part of my life was finished and tucked away for safe keeping. Last week, something happened that made me realize she is much more prominent than I thought. Her role in my life wasn’t a bit part; it has continued to whisper for ten years.

Now, here’s the long answer:

When my brother Jackson died in 1996, I had never been so up-close-and-personal with grief before. I didn’t know how to grieve, much less know that I even could grieve. Through all of the pithy, pat cliches that everyone spouted off after he died, I got the impression that only weak, selfish people would dare to grieve. Everyone told me I should “be happy, he’s in a better place and he’s no longer in pain.” I knew they were right (that he was in a better place), and didn’t think a “good” sister would begrudge that joy from someone she loves. I allowed myself a week to be sad about his death, then returned home to Kansas City and my TV news job and went back to my life and my regular routine. I quickly learned to stuff my emotions away where I couldn’t feel them, since feeling them meant crying and hurting – which meant I must be selfish if I wished my brother were still alive instead of pain-free in Heaven.

Around this time, I also turned my back on God. I reasoned that God didn’t hold up His end of the bargain I made with Him, which was to heal my brother in exchange for me being a good person and doing good things with my life. Jackson died, therefore God must  not care – and obviously wasn’t much of a powerful God anyway. Because if God were powerful, He certainly would have saved Jackson. It was the only logical thing to do, since Jackson was such an amazing person and so strong and vibrant and young, and had such a huge life ahead of him. Why wouldn’t God save him? Since He didn’t, I figured God just wasn’t for me. I walked away and cut God out of my life.

There isn’t much I remember about the next four years. I have photos that show me smiling and living and enjoying life. I appeared happy, but the truth is I was simply “phoning in” my life. I wasn’t actively engaged in living or my marriage or my job. I was punching a time clock and passing time. I didn’t allow deep emotions (except for occasional anger at Dan because he was a good target for my frustrations), and I lived life an inch deep and a mile wide. EXCEPT for October.

September 26th marked the last day I saw my brother alive, so that was the start of my yearly month-long mourning that lasted until October 26 (the day he died). October was also Jackson’s birthday month, so it was a nice package deal for me. I allowed myself to grieve that month, mostly when I was alone. Sometimes I would ask Dan to hold me, but usually I would get out a box of Jackson’s things and go through them on my own and cry over them. I would listen to sad songs (“Go Rest High on That Mountain,” “The Dance,” and “One Sweet Day” were regulars for me). I would look through old photos. I would torture myself with regrets and guilt about why I wasn’t there when he took his last breath. I would ask my sister and parents questions about the last time they saw him, and read old letters from him. But when October ended, I put it all away and stuffed my emotions back into their cave.

Oh, don’t get me wrong: I tried to get grief counseling. Once or twice, I saw a therapist who told me I simply needed to visit Kentucky to see the spot where Jackson’s wife placed a marker and buried some of his cremains. He said that would give me closure. (He also repeatedly called my brother “Jack” even when I tried to correct him. Grrrr…)

That “closure” didn’t quite help. Life continued on, and I spiraled a little further into an emotional tailspin because I couldn’t get a grip on my emotions as easily as I used to. It didn’t help that I was working a really awful overnight job as a TV producer, and my days and nights were mixed up and I wasn’t sleeping well. Dan and I made the decision to move to St. Louis to be near his family so that when we eventually had children, we would be near family. That move just about crushed me.

Living in St. Louis was never in my Life Plan (which was to become a news producer in a top ten market, namely Atlanta), and I hated living here. I was in a town I didn’t know, sleep-deprived and hormonal after coming off a nights-only job, living in a dinky one-bedroom apartment (we were renting until we could find a house), and I got lost every time I tried to leave that awful apartment. Oh, and did I mention I was unemployed? My TV news producer "dream had ended after the overnight job showed me how rough the business could be. The icing on the cake was this: we moved as October changed to November, so I was coming off a month of grief and sadness.

I remember barely getting out of bed that month. I tried to appear normal and functioning when Dan was around, but I cracked a lot and sometimes begged him not to go to work. I tried to find a job and sent out resumes, but I refused to work in TV news again. This meant I didn’t have much experience that seemed useful on a resume.

My mom and I talked off and on, and she told me that the headquarters of a certain ministry was located in St. Louis and I should send my resume there. I humored her and said I would do it, but secretly knew I wouldn’t. What ministry would hire a former TV news producer (who secretly disliked God) and what kind of job would they have for me anyway? I did NOT send in my resume and instead holed up in my bedroom and soaked in my misery.

Then, one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I remember laying in that bed one morning under a red comforter and having nowhere to go: no job interviews, no appointments, nothing that day. I had no one to talk to and nothing to look forward to besides Dan coming home from work at the end of the day. I remember thinking, “This can’t be all there is to my life. I can’t DO this anymore!” Somehow, I started praying. It wasn’t much. About all I said (and not even out loud) was this: “God, if you are there, you HAVE to do something about this. I’m not gonna make it.”

There was no audible response, no booming voice from God telling me what to do. So I got up and went to the bathroom. I picked up my one and only link to God, which was a copy of the yearly devotional called Daily Guideposts. Dad still sent it to me every year for Christmas, and I felt obligated to read it because sometimes he would ask me about that day’s devotion. I didn’t want to make him feel bad by saying I didn’t read it (and also that God and I weren’t “together” anymore), so I would read it every now and then. I remember picking it up that morning in an offhand way, and catching up on the last few days’ devotions. That’s when God figuratively (although it felt like literally!) hit me over the head with an answer.

One of the devotions was written by a woman who described her move to a new town where she was miserable. She didn’t know anyone, felt lost, and didn’t have a church home. One day she drove by a church where there was a sign for a certain ministry that she used to belong to at her former church. She started going to church there, it became home, and she found joy again.

That ministry was the same ministry Mom was “nagging” me to contact with my resume. I truly felt like this was God’s way of answering my plea for help, but I snorted out loud at Him and wondered why He would want me to apply for a job there. I knew they wouldn’t hire me anyway and it all seemed pointless.

To shorten the story a bit, I’ll summarize here and say I sent in my resume because of the devotion I read. They DID hire me. I worked there for two years. And because of that job and God’s specific answer to my prayer, I stepped out and starting trusting God again. I found a church because I figured if I was gonna work at a ministry, they were going to want me to attend church. I was very tentative with God, but felt a little more peace than I had in a long time. He also kept speaking to me in subtle ways through scripture I’d come across at work, or friends I was making in the office.

One of those friends started talking with me about my grief. She told me about a counselor she was seeing for her own aches, and I agreed to give this counselor a call.

The counselor’s name was Lilian.

She made sense of my grief and why the Jackson-shaped hole in my heart was so devastating. (I spent 22 years of my life c0mparing myself to him, so when he died I didn’t quite know who I was anymore because I had no comparison to measure myself – and my deeds – against.) She helped me understand my family of origin (and my parents’ families of origin) and what parts were deeply unhealthy and manipulative. But even more than all of that, she was the first person to personalize Jesus for me. She showed me in an un-cliché way that Jesus really does grieve with me. He deeply hurts and also deeply rejoices with me. He wants me. He adores me. I vividly remember the day she unpacked the story of Lazarus with me. She explained how Jesus wept for His friend, even knowing death wasn’t the end of Lazarus’ story. She showed me that grief doesn’t mean you’re selfish, and also showed me that God is real enough to feel and hurt. And He’s also big enough to get the last word.

I spent two years of my life in deep counseling with Lilian. She helped me heal and walked me through pain that I had been avoiding my whole life – not only since Jackson’s death, but prior to that too.

Simply put, she changed my life.

I stopped seeing Lilian right before Katie was born. I was emotionally healthy enough (notice I didn’t write the word “strong” because I think strength has nothing to do with it and can be the antithesis of emotional health) to navigate the new baby, and Lilian laid the foundation for me to handle my parents’ deaths in a much healthier way.

I didn’t have much contact with Lilian after that. I’m sure there was a Christmas card or two (from me to her) and maybe an email, but that was it. She was tucked away in the folds of my heart, sealed with gratitude and thanksgiving.

You probably know my story after that, but here’s the synopsis: I left that ministry job after two years (left = fired), went to another job, had a baby, worked one last job then became a stay at home mom. I had Jackson. We found a new church and God’s engraved His grace on my heart and I finally, truly came home to Him. Life was real with ups and downs, and it still is: good, bad, and everything in between.

Last week, one of the “bad” things happened. Jeff, a friend of ours who we met at church, died from a brain tumor. His death is awful. He leaves a wife and two young boys, and there are so many sad things about this. But he also left a legacy of hope, and countless people he introduced to Jesus. I attended his funeral because he’s my friend, but also because I was working at church that day. As part of my job on staff, I greeted people at the door to the auditorium.

I was standing at the door when this woman walked near me. I had one of those moments when I think I know someone, but can’t remember why or how. I would usually just shut up until I figure it out, but I blurted to the woman, “I think I know you.” She looked at me with that “I think I know you too” look and THAT’S when it hit me and I said, “Oh, my God. You’re Lilian!” I have no idea the next words I said, but I do remember hugging her and then telling her how much she has meant to me and how much she changed my life. I asked her if I could have a photo with her, because she affected me so deeply. She agreed, and here it is.

This woman, oh! This woman! To see her in my home (yes, my church is my home!) where my God finally made sense to my tiny little brain, and to have the culmination staring me so blatantly in the face: to have proof that God crosses His “Ts” and dots His “Is” so thoroughly to demonstrate how deeply He loves me… and to show me how intricately He’s been working on His plan for me!

You have no idea the amount of breathtaking awe I felt in that moment, and the amount of love that I knew God had heaped upon me.

There are very few moments in my life where I have had such clarity about the circle of my life. Usually, any clarity I have comes at a much later date, when hindsight makes the moment finally come into focus. But on this day, I knew as the moment unfolded that it was a pure gift from the holiest of holies, my Savior and my Father.

I also know my friend Jeff was rejoicing in heaven to know that God always keeps His promises.

August 2013 Review

We started August in North Carolina, where we were visiting my sister and my niece, Peyton. When we were there, I made the mistake of leaving my phone unattended a few times. BAD idea when a teenager is around! This photo is only one of multiple selfies I found on my phone from Peyton!

Dan grilled a lot this summer. A few times for us, and a lot for church volunteer events. After a while, I became nauseous by the smell of pulled pork. This is one of the last times Dan made it. After this, I made him promise not to make pulled pork until January – at least!

Katie and I were shopping together and she wandered into the greeting card aisle. I watched her read cards and giggle to herself, and I was transported to my childhood when my mom and I would park ourselves in the greeting card aisle and read almost every single one. Mom loved buying extra cards to keep on hand for birthdays and various events. Seeing Katie like this reminds me that her grandmother lives on in many ways.

Before summer ended, we hit the local skate park with Gina and her boys. The kids had a blast scooting all over the concrete ramps and skate bowls. (I have no idea what the technical term is for them!)

We had to say goodbye to our awesome summer sitter. Genevieve became part of our family this summer, and my kids adored her. So did I! Saying goodbye to her was hard for them, and for me too. She has a beautiful heart and soul, and Katie really looks up to her.

Katie asked me to straighten her hair for the first day of school. It’s amazing how a blow dry can make her seem so much older!

School arrived on August 8th. Katie started 5th grade and Jackson started 1st grade.

I bought Katie a  new book about that silly Grumpy Cat. A few days later, she was volunteering with our church outreach team and a photographer captured a photo of her that looks remarkably like that cat! Ha!

The kids and I met friends at a nearby pool, and the evening ended with my two kids sharing a snack and being sweet to each other. It is a rare moment some days, so I had to capture it before the moment faded.

I would call it Spring Cleaning Fever, but this isn’t spring! But Katie has begged to organize various spots in the house lately, and I always say yes (unless it’s bedtime and a stalling technique). The bottom pantry shelf was her target this time.

On Memorial Day weekend, we started a summer fruit count for cantaloupes versus watermelons. Every time we brought one home to eat this summer, we marked it down. Our count lasted until Labor Day, and this was the final tally. Cantaloupe wins!

Jackson has a new breakfast favorite: peanut butter toast with sliced bananas on top. On this day, we also added blueberries. It makes our mornings a little happier when he’s excited to eat!

For a few years, I’ve been praying that I could find an app for my phone that would allow me to embed a name into a text – kind of like a Word document mail merge. FINALLY, I found one! The Smurge texting app totally made my day. Now I can send scripture texts to my list of friends and personalize the verses for each of them. I used to insert each name by hand, but that got a little too overwhelming. Now the app does it for me. Yippee!

On August 16th, another prayer was answered. My niece Hannah went to college! This photo is worth thousands of words, which I will not write here. Suffice it to say this is good: really REALLY good!

I saw a tip in FamilyFun magazine about making watermelon pizza with shredded coconut, jelly, grapes, chocolate chips and Craisins. It was our dessert one night after dinner.

Dan and the kids went on the annual float/camping trip with friends and family, but I skipped because I work weekends now. After they left, I had my own adventure and went to explore a nearby island in the middle of the Missouri River. It was just me and my camera phone on the island alone. Oh, and this little guy. I spent a good 30 minutes just watching this snail creep slowly along the ground.

Katie and I organized her bathroom, and cleaned out the piles of hair bows that she hasn’t worn in years. She decided we should wear them ALL one last time.

Here is Katie’s official school pictures for 5th grade.

And Jackson’s, for 1st grade.

Our family needed some fun, so we filled up water balloons and had a fight in the back yard. It was good to laugh together.

One morning, I got the kids on the bus and set off on an adventure. I rode a nearby ferry to a farm and picked peaches. It was fantastic to explore and appreciate God’s creation, and get yummy peaches too!

That evening, the kids went to Grandma’s and I planned a surprise date night for Dan. We had dinner at a new restaurant (with gluten free options!), and saw the movie Elysium. It was a nice night for us.

Now that Jackson is in 1st grade, he can finally become a Cub Scout. He put on his uniform for the first time, and I almost died from the cuteness.

One of the projects every 5th grader at school does each year is this egg drop experiment. They make two identical containers and place a hard boiled egg inside both. The only difference is one container has a parachute and the other doesn’t. They drop the containers from the second floor at school to see if their eggs will survive without breaking. Katie worked hard to build her containers. Sadly, the containers didn’t quite work and her eggs cracked – even the one with a parachute.

I tried a new experiment in August. I got up with Dan to try and spend 10 minutes with him in the morning (since we are often out of sync at bedtime), and it was nice. A few mornings, Katie got up right after Dan left for work, and joined me in the LoveSac while I read and had devotion time. It was a nice perk for rising early.

I had one last day of vacation from work and decided to use it by traveling with Dan to a job site in Jefferson City. He dropped me off at the capitol building and I wandered, then he picked me up and we had a late lunch before driving home. It was nice to hang with him in the car and talk. It’s amazing how much I crave uninterrupted conversation with my husband. I definitely took it for granted before I became a mom!

I get to work with some pretty fantastic people who encourage my growth as a leader. We had an all-female seminar at work/church to discuss the book Just Lead, and took a little field trip at the end of the day to nearby Weldon Spring Site. I enjoyed being challenged to lead, and hearing ideas on how to do so. It was also fun to be with all of my female coworkers for the day.

August ended with Katie’s friend sleeping over at our house. I took everyone to the library, and they also built a mega fort and played Just Dance on the Wii.