Little Did I Know

It's amazing to me how much you learn as you get older. What I wouldn't give to know what I know now and be my much younger self, say, 15-20 years ago! But wisdom comes with age and rarely anything else. One thing I've learned is how right my parents were on so many things (SHHHHH! Don't tell them that! LOL).  In fact, I distinctly remember calling my stepdad during my second semester of college, solely for the purpose of telling him I'd realized he was right...on a lot of things. He was gracious and merely chuckled.

I also remember laughing at my daddy, sometimes outright and sometimes in secret, when he would suggest things that were, what I believed, totally off the wall. He kept coming to me with all of these "health" solutions, natural remedies, the importance of herbs and nutrition. I would smile and nod and chalk it up to something some people do, just not me.

Fast forward, oh, about 10 years give or take a few. My life experiences have forced me to grow, to get out of my comfort zone. Daddy has been gone almost 2 years now. That in itself is hard to believe...sometimes hard to even accept. With his passing, however, I was hit hard with the fact that life is short and time is not guaranteed. We make choices every single day that determine our future.

In facing this realization, I've decided to keep an open mind when it comes to things I would normally shy away from. I've taken an active role in our children's education by beginning to homeschool them last year. I've decided to be more intentional with how I spend my time, realizing that sometimes "no" is the right answer. And I've begun to do a lot more research into things that effect my health and the health of my family--namely our nutrition and our medicine cabinet.

In doing so, I came across a company called Young Living Essential Oils. I began to research them, as well as other companies, as I wanted to begin to incorporate the use of these oils into our healthcare routine. With the help of a friend, I purchased a couple of oils for a few specific purposes, to get a feel for their effectiveness and benefits. I was sold. I had used other essential oils before, mainly from the health food stores, but I'd never had results like these. I delved deeper into the company, how they came up with their oils, reviewed testimonials, and talked with friends who used them. I personally couldn't find a better company with a better product than Young Living.

I immediately began looking forward to the day I could "justify" purchasing the Everyday Oils Collection Starter Kit. I knew without a doubt I wanted to begin incorporating these oils into my cleaning products, beauty products, and our medicine cabinet.

My husband, however, was quite skeptical. In fact, he often referred to them as my "snake oils"...until the day he came down quite sick, however. Nothing else he was taking was giving him any relief, so when I asked if he wanted me to try some oils on him, he said "I don't care at this point. I'll try anything." That was the first night he'd slept all night in DAYS. My husband was now a believer and I purchased the Premium Starter Kit!

We've used the oils as a family and given samples out to friends now for over 6 months. We are rarely sick, and when we are, we are over it in a very short time! I have even been able to stop taking meds and replace them with oils with BETTER results. I feel great, I have more energy, and I know that I'm doing it while giving my body these amazing oils and no chemical side effects.

So I decided if I am already telling my friends and family about these oils, I may as well put myself in a position to order some for them! That's why, as of last month, I've become a YL Independent Distributor. Honestly, I don't care if I make a dime in profit. My only hope was that maybe I'd make enough each month to cover the cost of what we spend to purchase the oils. Only one month out of the gate and I've reached that goal!

Little did I know, all those years ago, that my Daddy knew what he was talking about. Little did I know how different my life would be now, without him in it. I'd give anything to share with him all I've learned since he's been gone...because deep down, I know he'd be proud. :)

If you want to learn more about Young Living, about essential oils, how to get started or how to order an oil or two, feel free to send me a message, click the Facebook icon at the top right of the screen, or click here! I'd LOVE to help you find a healthier you!

Blessings,

It's Funny How Things Workout...

Life is a process. I firmly believe that, if you let it, life will allow you to become the person God created you to be from the moment you were born. If not, you could miss out on SO much.

I never thought I'd be a homeschooling mom. In fact, if you'd told me all those years ago this is what my life would look like, I would've promptly laughed at you. I was not that mom. We were not that family. I distinctly remember my daddy encouraging me to look into homeschooling. I politely smiled and nodded--as I did with many ideas he ran by me back then--and then immediately didn't give it another thought.

Now I can't imagine my life any other way. The idea of spending my days watching first hand as my children explore, create, discover and learn...I wouldn't trade it for anything. We don't always get along, we don't have perfect days, and some days, I really wanna throw in the towel. But there are moments. Moments when my daughter gets excited over the number of sight words she's learned, moments when my Little Little finally grasps a concept he's been struggling with, moments when my Middle Little gives me a huge hug and tells me how much he loves "doing school" with me...those are the perfect little moments that make it all worth it.

We are still in the learning phase, trying to figure out what works best for our family, what works best for each child, and putting that all into practice. Sometimes we find our curriculum doesn't work well for us and we pitch it completely and start over. Other times, we get so caught up in what we're doing that we lose all track of time and I narrowly manage to get supper on the table. Aaaaaaand sometimes we go, go, go so much that I'm not sure what day it is! But it works for us.

Homeschooling is not for everyone. It's not even for every child. Our Big Little does not homeschool right now. Maybe that will change someday and maybe it won't. But as long as we work together (with him) to figure out how he learns best and where he learns best--then I'm good with that. Children don't, and shouldn't, fit a cookie cutter mold. God created us unique and individual. We have our own likes, dislikes, passions and fears. When we allow ourselves to think outside the box, to find what works best for each of us, we thrive. It's then that I believe God is best glorified--when we allow ourselves to be molded into who He created us to be.

If you had told me in the beginning of the adoption process that we would be sitting here, nearly 3 YEARS later, still with no child to hold...well, I'm not sure I would've chosen to walk that path. But again, I believe life molds you into who you were created to be--if you let it. God knew, long before I did, how things would work out. While I don't necessarily see the "purpose" yet in losing my daddy when I did, I do know that we wouldn't be where we are today if he were still here. We wouldn't have taken the job in San Antonio, which means we wouldn't have moved. We likely wouldn't have discovered how amazing homeschooling can be--we had only begun to homeschool in the fall before moving here and our first semester was rough. We may not have stayed the course if we'd stayed in Tulsa. Our oldest wouldn't have gotten out of a bad school situation--which means he wouldn't be as excited over school as he is now. We wouldn't have the new friends we've made--friends I couldn't imagine my life without.

I'm fully convinced, with every passing day, that while I don't see the bigger picture God has planned, I KNOW He has my best interests in mind. He knew the time I would need to heal after losing my daddy. He knew I wouldn't be prepared to fully focus on our daughter. He knew I wouldn't be ready to be a new mom again AND homeschool effectively. He knew we wouldn't be able to commit to the amazing opportunity of moving to San Antonio if we'd been in the middle of just being home with our daughter.

I don't like the wait. I'm not a naturally patient person. I don't like the not knowing of it all, having everything up in the air, waiting endlessly for this one file to be ready and the miracle it will take for it to land in our hands and make her officially our own. I don't like answering endless questions on how the adoption is going when we're in a standstill forever, but I also don't like that it's been so long that now the questions have stopped coming. I don't like not being in control.

But that's the beauty of growth. It's not easy. It's not comfortable. It's usually not fun. It's hard. It takes work. But the end result is so much better than we ever dreamed possible. It makes it all worth it. So I can't see the light at the end of the adoption tunnel right now, but I know the One in control of this crazy ride I'm on...and ultimately, I wouldn't have it any other way.

My prayer is that our journey means something...not just to our family, but somehow, to yours. I hope that in seeing our struggle, our wait, our growth, whatever it is you need to see, that above all else, you see Christ in the middle of it all. I pray that our journey would renew your faith, deepen your walk with God, or lead you to find Him for the first time. Not that any of it would be because of what we've done, but because you were able to see all that HE has done in all of this. I cling to this verse on my weakest of days, in my darkest of hours:

"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."
--Hebrews 11:1

I cannot explain the gratitude we have in knowing you all are with us, walking beside us in this crazy journey called adoption...and life.

Chosen

Moving is never easy. The endless piles of things to put away, boxes yet to be unpacked, trash to deal with from empty boxes, painting, cleaning, arranging and rearranging...and all while regular life must go on. Moving to an entirely different state, AND away from everyone you've ever known, has it's own unique challenges on top of the regular ones. The excitement of the new and uncharted territory, of starting over, beginning again--has its ups and downs.

I absolutely LOVE where we live. I love our neighbors, I love our home, I love our oldest's new school and I love our new homeschool group for the younger 3. Although I was hesitant to look for another church home, I've fallen deeply in love with the one we've found here. And, as I'd mentioned to both of my brothers a while back, there is something easier about being in a new place altogether--one where I don't turn every corner and have a memory of daddy staring me in the face. I don't have to remember him sitting in my living room, laughing at my poker table, bowling with the boys on the Wii, or coloring in the dining room with my daughter. A new place is a new beginning--a starting over in a new normal.

Don't get me wrong. I WANT to remember. I WANT to picture him with us, doing things we love. But I NEED to do it on my own time, in my own way. I already have little things that sneak up on me and tear me apart on the inside without a moments notice. I don't want or need to be in a place where it's almost an hourly guarantee. Call it denial if you must. I call it self-preservation. I call it survival for the sake of holding it together and keeping the little shred of sanity I manage to maintain most days.

I know we serve a loving God. I know that He has my best interests in mind and that, although I cannot see the bigger picture, His ways are better than my own. And yet, for this last 16 months, I have felt so distant...struggling to convince my heart what I know in my head...that God is good, that He knows all my hurt, all my pain. I can tell myself and believe with all my head that daddy went when it was time, that he no longer suffers, that he is better off--that there is a bigger picture I cannot see, a bigger reason for my loss. I know in my head that God only takes us when our work is done, and not a moment sooner. But convincing my heart has been another matter altogether. I could not fathom for one moment that, while I knew God was with me, that He was truly beside me, seeing my pain and longing to bring me closer to Him through it.

And then I knew. I knew in that moment that He is here...truly HERE, in the thick of it with me. He not only sees my pain, He feels it. What burdens me, also burdens the heart of the living God. I cannot begin to explain to you how I knew or what changed. All I know is that in that moment of worship, my walls were torn down and my eyes were opened. He broke the barrier I'd created around my broken heart, took hold of me and held me like no other. He picked up the pieces of my broken world and is ever so gently, ever so graciously putting them back together, one by one.

My relationship with my Jesus, is in a new place. I no longer have a God who I turn to in times of trouble or times of joy. I no longer have a God who is out there somewhere waiting for me to grab hold of him in my time of need. Instead, He is my Healer, my Redeemer, my Confidant, my Wonderful Counselor. Before anyone else, my husband included, He is the one I turn to with my pain, my joy and also my every day, my every moment. What I knew with my head before I now know more than ever with my HEART. I am CHOSEN. He loves me more than I could ever possibly comprehend and He's not somewhere waiting for me to reach out for him. He's right beside me, simply waiting for me to trust Him with the details, waiting for me to lean on Him, and not my own understanding. I cannot put into words the difference that heart-knowledge has made in my life.

I don't know where you are, I don't know what you're struggling with, I don't know your pain. I don't know the trials you face, the temptations you fight, or the fear or anxiety or hurt you are going through. I don't know your thoughts or all the secrets you hide. But I know the One who does. Whether you believe it or not, whether you can fathom the reality or want to deny it altogether, THERE IS A GOD WHO KNOWS YOUR NAME, WHO KNOWS YOUR PAIN, WHO KNOWS YOU BETTER THAN YOU KNOW YOURSELF. And He LOVES you, sweet friend. I wish you knew that, deep in your heart...just how desperately, deeply, unconditionally he loves YOU. Because you see, you are also chosen...

1 Thess. 1:4 "For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that He has chosen you.."

I pray, sincerely, that one day soon you will see it too...

(Not My) Lessons Learned

It seems as though I have an over abundance of opportunities lately to learn life lessons. Between moving to another state and having to make friends all over again, losing my dad 15 months ago, surviving our first year of homeschooling, and still maintaining this adoption process, I have weekly if not daily lessons I'm learning. It's a good, albeit exhausting, thing to go through.

However, I think the lessons that resonate with me the most, that leave me pondering the longest, aren't even my own. They are the things my daddy learned--many the hard way--that I am realizing more and more the longer he's gone. I'll be honest (because he would've said so himself), he wasn't always a good man. Of course, none of us are ALWAYS good...and he was no exception. Like anyone, he could be mean, short-sighted, and make poor choices, some big some small. But the closer he came to the end of his life, the better perspective he had and the more he lived life intentionally. There are many things I want to emulate about the man I called "Daddy". There are others I don't. The following list encompasses the lessons he learned that are becoming apparent to me more and more each day...

1. Life is short. It ends unexpectedly and we all wish for more time.

2. The choices we make on a daily basis can have lasting effects over a lifetime. For example, until he realized his health was in jeopardy, he didn't put a lot of thought into what he ate and how he cared for his body. We have ONE life and only ONE body--we must treat it with the utmost care.

3. Relationships are what YOU make them. You can't control other people, but you are most definitely responsible for your own actions. You get out what you put in. My daddy chose to not put the effort into his marriage to my mom as he should've (for whatever reason). It cost him both his marriage AND time with us kids. Obviously it's not all one sided, but he could've done more on his part--he later said so himself.

4. Time is the one thing you can never get back. You MUST make the most of every day. If there are places you hope to see one day, NOW is the time. If there are things you need to say, NOW is the time. There is no guarantee that you will get the opportunity if you don't do it now. My father had always wanted to go see Vegas. It never happened. He'd also planned to make a video that chronicled his opportunities to share Jesus with others because he said he had some amazing stories. He never got around to it. Oh how I would've loved to hear those stories.

5. You can spend your life working to have THINGS and end up neglecting those most precious to you. Early on in his marriage to my mom, Daddy was focused on working hard and having nice things and, as he later put it, "chasing the almighty dollar". If he thought he could get wealthy doing something, he tried it--many times to the detriment of his marriage and his finances. And he was miserable doing it. Later on in life, he was content to have a roof over his head, food on the table, and time with us kids. And he was utterly happy. Things will never make you happy--but time with those you love will.

6. How does the saying go? "To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world"--or something like that. I think too often we get caught up (especially in today's get-famous-quick society) in being known or being famous or doing something big--rather than realizing that sometimes the most important thing we can do is to be known in the lives of those around us. My daddy didn't make any major contributions to society, but to his grandkids, he was an incredible source for Godly instruction and encouragement. To this day, the one thing that sticks out to my middle son about his Papa was that he was "always telling him about Jesus"--and he loved that about him. Many times it's in the everyday moments that our lives have the biggest impact.

Obviously, none of these things constitute rocket science. In fact, they are things we are told from many different sources, many different times throughout our lives. But when you're faced with looking back on the life of someone you've lost, these lessons take on new meaning. There are soooooo many things about my dad that I hope to develop within myself as a parent, a friend, a neighbor--so many good qualities I hope to have. But sadly, there are things I hope to take to heart, from these lessons I saw him learn the hard way--so that I will not make the mistake of repeating them myself. As parents, we always want better for our kids. We want them to have more, do more, experience more and be more than we ever had, did, or were. So while there are things I know he would've done differently if he had life to live over, I pray these are things I never forget, so that I can at least learn from the lessons life taught my daddy.

Being His Mom, Her Mom & Finding Joy in the Journey

So there's not a lot to update on the adoption front. Still waiting. Still hoping. Still frustrated by systems that seem to fail those they seek to serve. You'd think that after more than 23 "list nights" where we wait...refreshing the email button...hoping for good news and a file attached--HER file--only to be disappointed month after month, list after list...that we'd be used to it by now. In some ways, yes, we are. Most days I find myself fairly numb...almost as if I'm in a dream world where I THOUGHT we were going to adopt, but in reality it's just never going to happen. That's most days. Then there are days when I can hardly drag myself out of bed. I put a smile on, keep the peace, shove it deeper inside...because I know that if I allow myself to feel all of the anger and frustration that lies beneath the surface, I may never come up for air. I may be swallowed up whole...some days. I can tell my head a hundred different ways that "His timing is not MY timing" and "God's still in control". And I know that I know that I KNOW that is the truth. But some days, convincing my heart of that is another story altogether. So when people ask how it's going, where are we at in the process, I don't say "It totally sucks. I just wanna fly over and get my daughter already. I'm over the wait and anxiety and the sleepless nights. I'm just done. I plan to leave tomorrow." Instead, I simply say, "Oh, it's coming along. Still waiting and hoping it works out the way we'd like. But we're good." Because that's the easier thing to say. And that's the easier thing to hear. And frankly, maybe if I say it enough, I'll start to believe it too. Some days...

But there are other days...when I have a glimmer of hope, when I see just a glimpse of the bigger picture, and by His grace alone, I'm able to keep going. Because I'm her mom. And I will wait til the day I die if I have to. I will continue to fight for her no matter how long, no matter the road, because that's what moms do. And I'm her mom.

I'm also his mom. My teenager who is struggling to figure out his identity...who is questioning everything he believes...what is right and wrong. My son who is trying to determine his place in this world, and who does so facing pressures and obstacles...even some I've never faced myself. So I need to be HERE--fully present. He needs me to be HIS mom, in this moment, in his time of (so far) his greatest need. I need to walk this road with my son, completely engaged in his trials and triumphs, guiding him where I can, and praying he trusts God to lead him where I can't. Some days that road with him really sucks...I mean REALLY sucks. It's hard and it's painful and it's ugly and it's sooooo not my son...not the young man I know...not the man God created him to be. Other days that road is so incredible I can't begin to describe it. The amount of love and pride I have in being his mom goes beyond words. He is talented, he is dedicated, he is amazing and kind and thoughtful and he has a heart the size of Texas (which I've come to learn is very VERY large!). And I get front row seats to watch him grow--both in the good times and the bad--and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not one single thing.

And somewhere deep inside, I'm realizing I'm also a very lost little girl who misses her daddy in ways no words can express. In fact, I was holding it together until that very sentence. Because that's what I do. I have to keep going. I have responsibilities. I have people who depend on me. And until recently, going with the flow was easy. We've had a whole lotta crazy up in here for the last 14 1/2 months since my daddy died. I've literally been going from one thing to the next, funeral then his belongings then his estate then starting to homeschool then selling a house then moving then moving again then getting settled in a new state surrounded by new people. So I didn't have to think, or feel. I could just shove it all deep inside to be dealt with another day. But that day has come and I'm finding I'm completely unprepared for the waves of emotion that are fighting to take over within me. I fight on a near daily basis, just to keep my head above water. And sleep, which was once my safe haven, my refuge from the day, has eluded me in these months since daddy has been gone. I'm beginning to realize I need time to heal. I need time to let myself feel all of these things I've trapped inside. I just need more time.

And God, in His infinite wisdom, is giving me just that. Time to heal, time to find my new normal, time to get settled in our new surroundings, time to be his mom, the way he needs me--completely focused on his needs...and I need to deal with all of this, to be fully HERE, before I can be fully THERE with her, getting to know her, letting her get to know me, being HER mom the way she needs me--completely focused on her needs.

So I try to find joy in this journey, in this uphill-downhill-good day-bad day-journey. I'm learning what it is to grieve, to raise a teenager with all of his successes and failures, to make new friends all over again, to become accustomed to new places and things, and to help my family settle into this new phase of life. Little by little I'm surviving, and some days I see the light at the end of the very long tunnel. Just when I need it most, God gives me the clarity I need to see just far enough into that light to keep going, to know without a doubt He is VERY much in control. And He has my best interests at heart...even when I can't see the big picture from here.

So Many Times...

So many times I've sat down to start this post. So many times I've laid in bed at night, ideas running through my head on what to say, how to say it. And yet now, when I finally sit down to write, they all escape me...

We've had a lot of life changes in the last 6 months, in the last year, really. I honestly don't know how it's been a whole year. My daddy died...a year and 6 days ago. I've lost track of time since then. In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday. In others, it seems like a lifetime ago. And yet, some days, I have to convince myself he's really gone. I still catch myself preparing to call or text him to share part of my day. I no longer physically reach for the phone, but my mind still starts to think of it.

Grief is a strange thing. You can hear about it, learn about it, read all you can to fully understand how it works. But when it's you, when it's your grief, it's different. It's never what they say it will be. Sure, it follows a basic pattern that experts have dubbed the "cycle of grief", but only in its basic form. And, at least for me, there's not just one trip around that cycle. For me, I believe I've been around it at least 3 times in the last year. And I don't see it stopping anytime soon. I think of it as a grief bicycle. I keep going and going and going.

Don't get me wrong, overall, it's getting easier...overall, I cry less often...overall, it doesn't sting as frequently...overall, I'm finding a new normal and moving on. But there are days...horrible, gut-wrenching days when I don't even want to get out of bed, I don't want to face this reality, I don't want it to be real. There are days when everything is going smoothly and out of nowhere I'm blindsided by wave after wave of grief for absolutely no reason. There are days when it's all I can do to hold it together, to force myself to keep moving, so as not to freak out my kids with the meltdown I feel just beneath the surface.

But there are other days too. Days when I can see something that reminds me of my childhood, of a story my Daddy once told me, of something we once did together...and I can smile. I can be in the moment and think to myself, "Daddy would love seeing this" or "Dad would crack up laughing right now", and truly, thoroughly, bask in the moment, and be happy. There are times when I watch my kids, when I listen to them, and my heart is so happy because I KNOW how proud their Papa would be if he could see them in that moment. And most days, when those moments come, I'm able to tell them just that--and not break down.

We've had a lot of changes in the past year, but especially in the past 6 months. Due to a job promotion, we moved from Oklahoma to South Texas only 6 weeks after finding out. It was also the middle of the school year, so we had a house to sell, new schools to look into, temporary housing to locate in a city we knew nothing about. We had to leave our church home and all of our dear friends, and move to a place where we only knew people Sean worked with. We are now 12 hours or more from our nearest family, except for one aunt and uncle. We finally found a new home after 4 months of being in an apartment, so we've spent the last 2 months moving and getting settled, as well as updating all of our adoption paperwork after the move. And after 5 months, we've finally managed to find a new church home.

We are beginning to find our new normal. We are starting to settle in. And now, as things are finally starting to slow down after this year of changes, I'm finally being forced to deal with all of the emotions that I've crammed down deep inside. I'm finally having to face reality, to go through day to day life with some time to myself once again. And I'm realizing how much of the emotion and grief I've suppressed. It's easy to ignore when your life is chaotic and busy. But once you slow down, when you find time to breathe, it all comes back to the surface and you're forced to deal with it head-on.

So we are working our way to normalcy...or some form of it. I must say, I don't write all of this for you to feel bad for me. I am hurt, I am changed, but I will be fine. And I am truly, utterly blessed. This move has been so good for us in so many ways and it's already beginning to feel like home. And I know one day, the pain won't be as strong, the waves of grief won't wash over me as frequently or with the same intensity. This is my struggle, my issue, and so many others have so much more to deal with than I can even begin to imagine. So please don't feel bad for me.

My purpose in sharing is just to shed light. To show anyone reading this that this is what grief looks like for me. And hopefully, to help someone understand that everyone's grief is different. And everyone's grief is their own--it's a journey only they can take. No one else needs to understand it; no one truly can. There is no right or wrong and as much as psychologists study, they will still never pinpoint exactly what you should feel and when. So if you're struggling today, if you've lost someone, if you're going through a difficult time, please know that what you're feeling is OK. Take as much time as you need to get through it to the other side.

Above all, know that as I walk through this new phase of life and it's unique-to-me challenges, I am praying for you...for all of you that struggle today as I do. I may not know your name, but I know the God who does. So I ask Him to comfort you, to heal you, to give you peace, to bring you to the other side of this struggle stronger than you were before, and closer to Him than you've ever been.

13 Weeks

It's been 13 weeks today. 13 weeks since I learned my daddy was gone. 13 weeks since my world changed in ways I still don't fully comprehend. 13 weeks. In so many ways, it feels like yesterday. In so many ways, I still don't believe it's real. It's gone from gut wrenching, ugly cry pain to...well...odd really. It just feels weird. I know the reality is my dad is gone. But in so many ways, I just don't feel he is.

I remember the events of that weekend so vividly. We were busy planning for my husband's graduation and incoming family. Due to a change in the date of the graduation itself, we were spending one weekend having the graduation and the following weekend having his celebration party. We had family coming in both weekends. We were busy trying to figure out who all was coming on which weekend and where we'd put everyone to sleep.

My mom and step-dad had decided to come in on Sunday morning in time for an early lunch to celebrate Mother's Day and would stay through the graduation Monday night before heading back to KS.  My husband's mom and step-dad were coming in on Monday afternoon and would be staying for the graduation that night and leaving Tuesday morning. Daddy had decided it was most important for him to be there for the graduation itself. We thought he'd be riding with one of my brothers when one of them came in. We'd been texting back and forth about it all week, trying to solidify plans.

I spoke with him on Wednesday on my way to pick up our daughter from preschool. I was so excited to tell him about how we'd decided to home school the two younger boys. We talked for a while about our plans for school and how we were all anticipating a great year ahead. I also let him know about the commercial my husband had been asked to shoot. He was so very happy and told me to make sure I told Sean how proud he was of him. I told him I had to run in to get our daughter so I'd talk to him later. We each said "I love you bunches" and hung up the phone. That was the last time I talked to my daddy...

Two days later I texted him to let him know neither of my brothers would be able to come down for the graduation, gave him the times our moms were both coming in and told him I hoped he'd still be able to make it. Around the same time my brother also texted him to let him know he wasn't able to go. Around 4:30 that afternoon we all got a group text from daddy. It simply said "I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ATTEND SEAN'S GRADUATION, MUCH TO MY REGRET."

It was clear from the "all caps" message that he was upset. Was he angry? Was he disappointed? Did he, dear God, did he think there wouldn't be room? That he wouldn't be wanted there? That he was insignificant enough that he wouldn't be missed??? These are the horrible, heart wrenching things running through my mind every.single.day since May 12th.

You see, after he sent that text that day, he turned off his phone. He never turned it back on. I have no idea what he did for the 41 hours between the time he sent that last text message until he breathed his last breath. I have no idea what he was thinking or feeling. I know that he was likely disappointed he wouldn't make it. I know he was probably frustrated.

I just wish that wasn't how things ended. I wish...well...I don't know what I wish. I wish I knew how to handle this better. I wish I knew how to move on easier. I wish I knew how to let myself grieve. Unfortunately, I've kind of put myself on auto-pilot, going through the motions of every day life, the dealings of a family of 6, wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend. I've been going going going, moving from one thing to another, afraid that if I stop long enough to allow myself to feel anything, that I may never recover...

You see, I'm a daddy's girl. Always have been. And I just don't know how to keep going without him in my life. I keep wanting to text him, to call him, to check on him to see how he's feeling, to see what he's up to, to tell him something funny or awesome about one of the kids. I just want more time. I want more.

As hard as this is, as impossible as it seems to get through, one thing I know for certain. I have no idea how I would even be doing as well as I am if I didn't have the peace of knowing I'll see my daddy again. I can't imagine not resting in the assurance of his salvation. Even though I cannot see it now, I know in my heart this too shall pass. I know that little by little, day by day, I will begin to feel like myself again. I know that, some day, while a piece of my heart will still be missing, it won't hurt as badly as it does now. I know that someday I'll be able to look at my children, my nieces and nephews, my siblings and my husband, and smile...knowing how daddy would've loved to be there.

For now, I cling to the hope I have in Christ, the future I will have with my daddy in heaven one day. And although the majority of me is still just trying to hold it together, trying not to lose it, trying to get by, a small part of me is rejoicing as I picture my daddy, fully enjoying his new found time in the presence of our Savior. That helps me smile.

It's The Little Things

So from time to time, little things remind me of my daddy. Sometimes they make my heart ache...a physical, painful ache that leaves me needing to put my hand over my heart and just weep. They are difficult, sometimes random, but I know they are completely normal and I believe they are gradually healing my heart.

For example, one that I was not expecting at all: the end of the military honors portion of daddy's graveside service. I thought at this point I was all ugly-cried out. I mean, I knew more tears would come, but I thought, at least for the day, that my ugly cries were behind me. As we drove into the cemetery, the Air Force Servicemen were already there. As daddy's casket arrived in the hearse, they stood at attention and slowly saluted. It was so beautiful. I cried some there, but not the ugly cry...yet. Then they stood at attention as daddy's pastor spoke. They began to fold the flag--such a beautiful, silent scene as they treated the flag, and daddy's casket with the utmost care. They played Taps, which was hard to listen to and made tears fall again. And then it happened. I knew it was coming. My brothers had decided that, with me being the oldest and the only girl, the flag should be presented to me. I knew that would be hard. What I didn't expect was HOW they would present it.

The Airman turned toward me where I sat, got down on one knee, placed the flag in my hand and gently but firmly held his hands over mine on the top and bottom of the folded flag. He then, looking me straight in the eye without flinching at all, said the following:

"On behalf of the President of the United States, and a grateful nation, we thank you for the service of your loved one..."

I barely heard the rest. I have no idea how he held it together. My face was contorted in an attempt to keep from wailing as the tears streamed down my face and sobs wracked my body, causing my chest and shoulders to convulse. It was so incredibly beautiful. There are no other words. It was a moment I will never forget...

There are other things though, that make me smile and some even make me laugh out loud. Like the day I saw a Model A or Model T (Daddy would've known which one it was) as I was leaving our neighborhood. He always loved those things. Or before daddy's funeral when I was on the phone with the VA discussing his military benefits. One of the things they said we would receive was a Certificate of Honorable Service (or something like that). I was about to start crying on the phone as the lady was saying this until she uttered the words..."signed by the President himself"...at which point it was all I could do not to die laughing.

If you knew my father at all, you understand why this would be so funny. As some of you don't, let me enlighten you. My father was an American Patriot through and through. He loved his country. He believed in it's Constitution and the freedom so many have fought and died for. But, like most Americans at different times, he didn't care at all for the current President. We've all been there--no matter what your party affiliate.  So I'm sure you can see the humor I found in the fact that the last presentation for his honor will be signed by a president he didn't like. LOL. I could almost hear him laughing with me. It was good to laugh.

All this to say, I find myself noticing, not the big things--although they are equally as good--but the little things. The daily things that make me smile or cry, that make me miss him, want to call or text him. It's all still very surreal, even now. It's been nearly 2 months and sometimes I find I have to remind myself that he's gone. Other times I find my heart aches all day long. But God is good. I know this full well. So for now I enjoy the little things that stir my heart, knowing that whether they bring smiles or tears, they ultimately also bring healing.

Bittersweet

I haven't posted an adoption update on here for a while because, well, there's really nothing to post. We haven't even had contact with our agency in over a month. That's not a bad thing. There just hasn't been a need. We are waiting for this specific little girl to be "paperwork ready" and are not interested in looking at other children in the mean time because we feel we've been led to THIS specific child. Our agency knows this. And both sides realize it will be a number of months until she is ready. So there's no need to do anything other than wait at this point.

At first, when we found out in April that it would be considerably longer than we'd expected, I was upset. I didn't understand why God was having us wait when we'd willingly jump on the next available plane if given the chance. I still don't understand why God allows certain things to happen the way that He does.

Now, almost two months later, I know that, in part, He is preparing me to be the best mom I can be for her. And He knew that right now, as much as I'd like to be, I would not be ready to handle bringing her home. He knew my time with my dad was short. He knew the days, hours and minutes he had left. He knew that, although I would trust in His plan no matter what, I would still be utterly lost at this point. He knew I would not be ready. So God, in His wisdom, in His divine providence, allowed me to wait longer.

None of this is what I would choose. Every single thing that I hold to be true is being tested. Every belief re-examined. I've never been in this situation before, losing someone so close to me. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But in the deepest part of my soul, I know I am being refined. I am being given the opportunity to question everything I've ever believed--and finding it all to be very real, very true. Some of the things I've been forced to reconsider:

Is God truly in control?

Does God really work for my good in ALL situations?

Is it possible to go on after losing someone so dear?

Do I still firmly believe that HOW we die is inconsequential, but WHEN we die was laid out before we were ever born?

Does God take people only when they are done with their purpose here on earth?

Will I ever get to a point where I once again feel like I'm enjoying life rather than just getting through each day?

Do I trust that God knows best, even when I never got to say goodbye?

Is God truly who He says He is?

Do I still believe God is good ALL the time?


These are only a few of the things I've been pondering the last 3 weeks. There's too much to list here. They come up at random times, random places. Sometimes they give me pause, sometimes they bring me to tears, sometimes they leave me angry. But the resounding answer to EVERY. SINGLE. ONE, every time? YES. YES. YES. YES.

I still believe every single thing I've ever held to be true, even though life is extremely hard for me right now.

And I'm finding that God's provision goes beyond any one incident, to weave together a plan bigger than we could ever imagine.

You see, I have things to work through, things to settle in my heart before I can give our youngest daughter the attention she deserves, before I can be there for her wholly. I need time to heal. God is using this to draw me closer to Him, to bring me to a place of utter dependence on Him, on His timing, on His plan...not my own.

And all through this, God is providing. Giving me a family who is patient with my healing, friends who know exactly what I need to hear at exactly the right time, a summer schedule that allows me the freedom to heal at a slower, more complete pace than school time would allow. He's flooding my mind with happy memories, little reminders of all that Daddy was to me.

And God, in all His wisdom, is allowing Daddy to provide for his new granddaughter, who he SO wanted to meet, even after his death. You see, friends, the remainder of Daddy's life insurance is going directly into our adoption fund. It's an amount he could never have given while he was alive, as he was a man of little means. But if he'd had it, he would've gladly given it. He wanted to meet her, to hold her, to tell her all about his Jesus who loves her.  Since he will not meet her this side of heaven, the next best thing we can do is to honor him in this way. He would LOVE to know he is having such a big impact, that some good is coming from our loss. It is bittersweet for me.

A friend posted this on her blog a while back and it is ringing so true today:

Sweet is nice enough.
But bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth & complexity.
Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy.
                      --Shauna Niequist

It's Not Goodbye

I wrote the following piece for Daddy's funeral. Somehow, I managed to defy the odds and get through the whole thing myself, although I'll admit I didn't look up and simply read what I'd written. My brothers also managed to play their guitars and sing. I am SO proud of them. Daddy would've absolutely loved it. He was so proud of them learning to play the guitar and enjoyed every time he got to hear them play. He would've had tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face listening to them that day. It was nothing short of amazing. I followed shortly after with this:

How do you put into words how you feel about the first man to ever hold your heart? My friend, my hero, my teacher, my guide, my fixer-of-all-things...my daddy. He held my hand, taught me to ride a bike, taught me to drive, taught me how to change my oil and change a tire. He encouraged me to try new things, to stand on my own two feet, to believe in myself, to never give up. He showed me the beauty in God's creation and convinced me that there is value and worth in every human being. He taught me to live life to the fullest and to take advantage of every moment I have left on this earth. He told me he loved me, told me I was beautiful, told me I was his princess.  And he always reminded me to share the love of Jesus with everyone I meet and to keep a smile on my face. 

Many things could be said about my daddy, about his hard-headedness, his love for chatting about Jesus and politics for hours on end. And while I may not remember all of you when I see you today, chances are I could tell you a story about each of you. Daddy loved to tell stories. But of all the things I could say about my dad, of all the things I could leave you with to remember him by, I think the most important thing was that he was passionate. He knew what he believed and he wasn't afraid to share it with anyone who would listen. How many of us truly live life with passion and conviction? I can only hope I can be half as passionate in the time I have left as my daddy was. 

I am so very grateful for the last 4 1/2 years we had, knowing that his time was limited. We were forced to focus on the important rather than the trivial and to embrace every moment we had together. I am also grateful that God granted Daddy his last wish, which was to go peacefully, in his sleep, just like his Uncle Ira had done. 

While my heart is utterly broken and there will forever be a part of me missing; while right now I don't know how I'll get through tomorrow, let alone the rest of my life without him, I have peace in knowing I will see him again in heaven because he gave his heart to Jesus. I love you, Daddy, more than words can say. This is not "goodbye", just "see ya later".

For the last week, I've had so many emotions. Hurt, despair, anger, frustration, confusion, pain. Now I'm simply numb. I seem, at this point, to be past the ugly cry and the weepiness. Now I find myself trying to remember that he's truly gone, reminding myself that he really won't be calling or texting or emailing soon. I often catch myself lost in deep thought, memories of times with Daddy flooding my mind. I can feel his hugs, feel the roughness of his weathered skin as he holds my hand, hear his voice as he says, "Hiiii, baby!" when we see each other after a few weeks apart. I keep thinking that someone has made a mistake and I'm going to wake up soon.  It just seems so unreal.  So I have to remind myself that it is, in fact, very real.

His service was unbelievably beautiful. From the video of pictures that told his life story, set on a background of music he loved, to the many things people shared, to my brothers singing. Even the gut-wrenching ugly cry that came, once again, as the Air Force went through the Military Honors portion of his graveside service and presented me with his flag...it was utterly beautiful and demonstrated, not a perfect life, but a life made perfect by the love of a redeeming God.

And he left a video. Back in January he'd made an hour long video of his life story. An HOUR long. 60 full minutes we have of watching our Dad, of hearing his voice. Video that will forever keep him alive, keep him present, both for us and for our children as we grieve his loss. I have no doubt it will be a huge comfort in those days and hours and moments when we are missing him terribly. I am SO thankful he did that. SO incredibly thankful.

I've been avoiding the radio for the last week. Music is a huge part of my life. It reaches the depths of who I am and allows me to bear my soul. But since daddy died, I think I've been on emotion overload and therefore trying to avoid anything that would bring more emotion to the surface. Two days ago, though, I allowed myself to to flip through the channels, hoping that nothing too deep would be playing. I realized a new Carrie Underwood song was playing, so I turned it up. It ended up being just what I needed to hear. It was refreshing and comforting to my hurting heart and there was so much truth in the words she sang. I believe it will be a song I listen to for years to come. It's called "See You Again".

Said goodbye,
Turned around and you were gone, gone, gone...
Faded into the setting sun,
Slipped away.
But I won't cry 'cause I know,
I'll never be lonely,
For you are the stars to me,
You are the light I follow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
I can hear those echos in the wind at night
Calling me in time, back to you.
In a place far away where the water meets the sky,
The thought of it makes me smile.
You were my tomorrow.
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Sometimes I feel my heart is breaking...
But I stay strong and I hold on
Cause I know...
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, yeah yea
I will see you again, woah.
This is not where it ends.
I will carry you with me, oh...
Til I see you again.
Til I see you again.
Said goodbye, turned around and you were gone, gone, gone.

Til I see you again, Daddy...