Fourteen Years Ago

Some of you might remember this day fourteen years ago but most of you don't.  I don't blame you really, I mean how many of your friends' wedding anniversaries can you remember right off the top of your head?  If I had said, "What happened on June 26th?" you might have heard a bell in your brain but, honestly, I can think of like 3 wedding anniversaries other than my own and that is only because I was in the wedding or directly involved somehow.  Of course, now there is Facebook to remind you or, in my case, Windows that announces the days' events every morning, "David & Jessica's Anniversary, all day".  My kids get a kick out of that.  
But, fourteen years ago, on June 26th, I married my guy.  All this week, and all last week, and really for awhile now, I've been racking my brain for an anniversary gift.  Fourteen years isn't like 15 or 20 or even 10; it's just fourteen.  Or, is it?  I could gift him with dahlias (the flower for 14) or ivory (the official gift of 14), but neither of those things would appeal to him much, unless someone like Chip Ingram or Tom O'Brien handed it to him and then sat down and answered all his questions about life and football.  So, that's probably not going to happen.  As I was explaining my dilemma to my husband, because he is, in fact, my best friend and who better to explain my dilemma to than my BFF, he reminded me that a decade ago I let him off the hook by telling him that anniversary presents didn't have to be earth-shattering, life-changing gifts! He said, that I said, that it was perfectly okay to present one another with a gift that remembered the day and the importance of our anniversary but we didn't have to feel the earth move under our feet (thank you, Carole King).  And that, my friends, made my world brighter!  I didn't feel the pressure to find the. perfect. gift. to commemorate our fourteenth wedding anniversary.  So, I got him something that would make the earth move under his feet a little more comfortably (work shoes).  
Instead, I put my few brain cells that function properly to work and determined that since my last blog post was about the human man I most memorialize, I shall blog about the human man I most honor and respect.  I say human man because, always, always, God comes first.

We were just babies when God divinely appointed our meeting (I say babies, but if you are over 30, you know what I mean).  We'd both prayed for a person to come along that would build us up and not tear us down.  Neither of us were really living the way we should have been.  We were mired in sin, but separately, and God chose to bring us to the same place at the same time to meet.  I remember knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was different and he would be mine.  Ours was not a perfect fairy tale; there were bumps in the road (and once when I actually ran off the road) and there were mistakes made and prayers sent up and God again answered our prayers.  He chose to put us back on the right track, together, and on June 26th, fourteen years ago, we pledged that we would remain on the right track, together until death parted us.  I still get flutters in my stomach thinking about it.  Not about the wedding, for indeed, it was every bride's dream.  No, my flutters come when I think that I get to stand beside this man for the remainder of my days and that God loved us enough to allow it to happen!  My flutters come when I get the opportunity to hear him teach or when I see him treating our daughters tenderly as their beloved Daddy.  I still get flutters!  
I could write for hours about how great my husband is, but that doesn't do anyone any good, other than maybe puff up David's ego a bit, but it would be an ungodly puff.  No, all the honor goes to God.  He has molded and smoothed, changed and rearranged David & I and our marriage together and made it something I cherish and adore.  God has taught us the hierarchy that He designed -- first God, then husband & wife, then children and the rest.  God has also taught me how beautiful God-ordained submission can be.  Oh, how we've changed since those first days of arguing over who got up with the baby last or my talking over every man in the room, including my husband, to tell my opinion.  Thank God those days are gone and we are still here, still in love, still learning and changing.  I cannot emphasize how important God's part in our lives has played.  I am putting myself out there by blogging this way, sharing what my heart says rather than what people want to read.  I am opening myself up to criticism -- that we think we are better than we are and all those other ugly things that people think when pride gets in the way.  I hope that can you read my humility.  We were nothing and God made us something -- together. 
I've had a few well-meaning people pull me aside and tell me I have no idea how good I have it.  They tell me I have no idea how blessed I am.  Maybe people do the same thing to David, I don't know.  But let me tell you something -- this marriage thing isn't easy!  I know how good I have it because David & I worked for every drop of goodness we squeeze out of our lives.  God blesses us with good things and good relationships but He also requires that we maintain those relationships and that we follow the commandments set forth in The Bible.  It means we listen to one another.  It means I respect and he loves (Ephesians 5).  It means that through this last 18 months that have honestly been the worst in my life, David has been there ever step of the way because I am not dead yet and it will only be death that parts us.  
I am so glad God married David & I.  I love him.  He loves me. 

 Ultimately?

  "I have found the one my soul loves."( Song of Solomon 3:4)

 and that has made all the difference.  

                                                     Happy Anniversary to my beloved!

June Isn't Just my Aunt's Name

It's June and June isn't just my aunt's name.  My Daddy had a sister named June.  Which brings me to the topic of this post.  My Daddy.  I couldn't put that in the name of the post because I couldn't type it without crying.  Which is pretty much where I've been at for the last month.  I've had lots of good things happening and I've got several great blog entries in progress, but this one, this one had to be done.  
If you are new to reading my blog, my Dad died from complications of Alzheimer's in March of last year.  I am a self-proclaimed Daddy's Girl, though I believe most everyone else would proclaim it on my behalf as well.  When Daddy died, it. was. the. hardest. thing. ever.  I had no idea how hard it would be.  And I just kept saying that to anyone who would listen, "I had no idea it would be this hard!"  Well, you know what?  I'm still saying it, 'cuz it's still hard. 
This week, I was thinking about church on Sunday.  We always do special, nice things for Mother's Day and Father's Day - giveaways and special songs, sometimes the kids do something that is always really cute.  I've always enjoyed those days, both as a mother and as a daughter.  But, this week, I was thinking about all of the people, sitting in the pews, whose Daddy isn't beside them.  Perhaps, their Dad is estranged from them or has died.  There are so many different scenarios in both functional and dysfunctional families that I can't even begin to give each of them space here.  There are those who have no father at all.  Right now, you are thinking I'm crazy -- everybody has a father, right?  Not quite.  I don't.  Not in the way you might think.  I'll explain that in a minute.  So, we are all in church enjoying our songs and specials, our gifts and giveaways, honoring those Dads that ARE there with us.  I'm glad we do this.  Dads deserve that and SO MUCH MORE!  But, a part of my heart is hurting for those whose Dad isn't there.  Like mine.  Often, a pastor or church leader will address those folks and give them a moment in the service, acknowledging their pain, and I am glad that it doesn't go unmentioned.  But, the hurt doesn't stop when the moment passes.  You might think I am making a mountain out of a molehill with this, I mean, c'mon, everybody loses somebody to death sometime or another, right?  Can I let you in on something?  It doesn't matter that everybody loses somebody sometime, when you lose your somebody?  It hurts.  It hurts bad.  And it hurts long.  And my Daddy was my somebody.  Up until now, I'd experienced the death of aunts, uncles, grandparent, father-in-law and friends....even a tiny baby that had barely been given a chance to grow.  Now, that one, I didn't think I could endure.  It was only at the altar of Jesus' feet I was able to grieve that loss.  
And now, here I am, 15 months after I sat with my mother and sister and watched my Dad's last breath leave his body and I am crying like a baby, trying to hide my tears from my own children so they won't worry that Mommy's gone off the deep end...again.  And I've been leaving my tears at Jesus' feet for months and months and they are still coming.  I'm so glad that my Jesus is interceding for me -- where on Earth would I be if He weren't?
I don't know my biological father.  And that is totally ok with me.  Because the man who I call Daddy is my biological grandfather and to quote my own words from back in March of 2012, "he chose to be my father and I am ever so grateful."  There have been some who have suggested that he did not, in fact, choose me to be his daughter, but actions speak louder than words, friends, and Daddy showed me day after day that I was his and he was mine.  Surprisingly, it was later in my life as an adult when he made it most apparent.   As Alzheimer's began to ravage his mind, he continued to be affectionate to those he loved.  I've heard so many stories of loved ones' who became combative and hostile to their loved ones but we were so blessed in that Daddy's personality never left him, even the parts we sort of wished would have, like his penchant for flirting!  I don't mean for this blog entry to be a memorial to Dad or even a historical retelling, but all of these things have been rolling around in my head for weeks now!  One more thing and then I'll move on to the real reason for my post....what I miss the most every day is when Daddy would rise from a meal, any meal from split pea soup (which he hated) to a steak dinner (which he loved), he would give me a hug and tell me thank you for the meal, that it was good.  He thanked me and my husband, David, at least once a month for taking care of him and Mom the last four years of his life.  He thanked me when I brought him a sweater, when I brought him a cold drink after his walk.  He was gentle, kind, longsuffering, loving and patient.  He exemplified the gifts of the spirit in so many tangible ways.  Matthew 7 speaks of how men shall know a good tree by its fruit and I have to say that my Dad's life bore so much fruit not just in my life but in so, so many others.  
Earlier this week, I was in the drugstore shopping for a Father' Day card for my husband.  Without even thinking, after I'd selected the one I wanted, I began browsing the cards for "Dads from Daughters".  I was two or three cards in before I realized what I was doing, but by then I had found one that I wanted to give my Daddy!  It said this --

Remember when I was young
and you thought everything you said
went in one ear and out the other?
Well, it didn't.
I took those words with me
and they have guided me
through the ups and downs of life..
And although you may not always see yourself
when you look at me, you wouldn't believe how much of you
has become a part of me.
Thank you for inspiring me to be the person I am today.  
Happy Father's Day, I Love You

It occurred to me after I bought and paid for this card, which I realize was somewhat foolish given the rising cost of greeting cards, that my Dad may have given me the absolute greatest gift in the world, both in life and in death.  As I've been dealing with my health issues these last 18 months, one of the things that have rarely been a problem for me has been my feeling as though God was not with me.  I've had some desperate, painful times as well as some times that I felt as though God wasn't answering, but I never felt that God had left me.  Would I have felt that way had I not had a godly example of a father here on Earth, showing me that no matter what the emergency, he would be there?  Showing me that even when I messed up, he still loved me?  Showing me that even in his last breaths he had enough energy to put his arm around me and tell me he loved me?  I hid a lot of my pain from my Dad in his last months of life because it worried him so much.  He would sit and stew about it and ask what he could do to help and if I'd been to see a doctor so it was just easier on him if I didn't say anything about it at all.  But, he was always there even when we weren't talking about it, just like God has always been here these last 18 months, even when we weren't talking about it.  

I love my Daddy, but I love my Heavenly Father more and I am so glad that God ordains, allows, even commands fathers to love their children and to raise them in the fear and admonition of the Lord.  My Dad and I were baptized together when I was five years old.  My life was nowhere near picture perfect and my Dad was nowhere near perfect, but he loved Jesus Christ and he loved me, and I believe he did his very best job as our Heavenly Father's ambassador modeling Christ's love for his children.  

I know this may prick the hearts of those of you who may not have had this relationship with your fathers, but let it be an encouragement rather than sadden you -- you can change the course of the future either through your actions or by coming alongside your husband and helping him to be the very best ambassador for Christ that he can be.  I want other kids in this world to know what I know.  My kids will know, not just because of the legacy my Daddy left but because of the legacy their Daddy is instilling in them even now, right this minute as he prepares them for bed and reads their devotion and instills in them a love for the truths of the Word and a desire to honor and obey him so that they will honor and obey their Heavenly Father.  

When you go to church this Sunday, spend a little extra time with those who are grieving.  There may be one whose father died 30 years ago or more and he still gets a little emotional on Father's Day.  There may be a woman there whose Dad has been gone for several years but she still tears up when she sings a song about heaven.  Spend a moment with these folks   and let them know God's comfort.  It does make a difference.  It makes the day not just bearable, but perhaps even enjoyable and it helps those that are grieving to know they are not forgotten.  

I hesitate to publish this.  It is raw, not much editing and probably some errors as I've done nothing but cry through the whole thing, but one thing I have learned in my pain these last months is that it doesn't do a bit of good to hide your heart, God can see it and goodness knows if more of us shared our hearts with each other, the world would be a better place and there'd be a lot of psychologists out of a job!  

Do you have a special memory of your Dad or something you do each year to commemorate Father's Day in a special way?  Please share in the comments.  I'd like to hear them.

Welcome!

Welcome to my new blog!  I am excited about this.  While I was blogging on Caring Bridge, there were times that I read something compelling or the Holy Spirit had shown me something and I wanted to share it with everyone, but on Caring Bridge I always felt like the goal of the blog was to inform you of my health and so I always felt like a "patient" and didn't often post of anything that wasn't directly or indirectly health-related.  

Here, I feel at liberty to post health updates but also, and more importantly, to share what God is doing in my life.  I need this outlet.  Over the last year and a half, I have watched my life shrink.  As a stay at home mom who home schools, my circle of influence was already small.  It has been painful to watch that sphere of influence waste away as friends I thought were close walked away, as activities I could no longer do fell away, as ministries that I have loved became impossible for me to participate in.  Could this be one of the reasons I am experiencing this season in my life?  So that God could whittle away the non essentials, force me to prioritize my life?  

So, I am glad that God led me to Caring Bridge, and now here, where I can communicate with those that I care about and who care about me.  There have been days that have gone by where the only communication I have is with my children and my husband.  There have also been days where the only way I could communicate with friends is through blogging because my pain kept me from venturing out to spend time with those I love.  Is this the best way to communicate?  Perhaps not, but it will do for now.  

From a health standpoint and as I mentioned in my last Caring Bridge post, I have several appointments coming up in the next couple of weeks.  I am meeting with a new chiropractor later on today who comes highly recommended.  I also have an appointment later in the week with a Christian therapist.  I was encouraged when I called and talked with the therapist and he prayed with me before ending our call.  He, too, comes highly recommended.  Something I am struggling with right now is whether or not God would have me continue to seek answers from doctors.  Through all of this, David and I have believed that while we continue to pray for healing, we should also understand that God not only heals supernaturally but He often will use the wisdom of a doctor or the benefits of a therapy to provide relief or healing.

I have had my faith shaken recently as fellow Christians have suggested that a lack of faith is what prevents healing.  My knower knows this is not the case but my heart hurt at the thought.  And then, I thought of my four little daughters who pray morning, noon and night that their Mommy might be healed or the little girl who sent me a card in the mail the other day and whose mother told me that her daughter prays for me every night that I might be healed.  These little children have faith, probably more faith than I have.  Do I really believe that the faith these children have, that are greater than that of a mustard seed means nothing?  I know that if healing truly relied on faith then I would have been healed a hundred times over, not just because of the faith of my children, but based on the faith of my husband and I and all of those who have covered us in prayer.  No, I don't think my healing hasn't come because I lack faith.  So, I struggle.  Do I drop all therapies and doctor visits and pray solely for a supernatural healing?  What David & I keep coming back to is this - what if I had a broken leg?  Would I sit at home and rely solely on a supernatural healing from God to mend my broken leg?  I would if I felt the Holy Spirit me prompting me to do so, but more than likely, we would seek medical attention.  And so, in this case of chronic pain, I am continuing to seek medical attention.  Not because I lack faith, but because I believe that I cannot limit God's abilities.  I cannot assume that He will only heal me supernaturally while I sleep (though that would be welcome).  I cannot assume that He won't use a doctor or a therapist to lead me in the direction of healing.  Though I miss the prompting of the Holy Spirit many times, I have also heard His voice enough to know that if I am doing something wrong, He will tell me.  It may take a few tries before I quiet enough to hear, but I will Hear Him. 

I pray this time you've spent reading isn't for naught, that it gives you pause to think and to pray and I look forward to writing again soon.