This is an excellent podcast interview about grief with author, Beth Allen Slevcove. It is well worth the 40 minutes to listen in on:
Broken Hallelujah
And here is a link to the song, Broken Hallelujah:
song by The Afters
My beloved husband passed away on June 24, 2016. Writing often helps me process the pain and manage the flood of emotions. So below are just some random thoughts, prayers, and revelations, as I attempt to navigate this road of grief, by the loving grace of God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
joy in the desert
A very powerful article from desiringgod.org
My Joy in the Desert
by Marshall Segal
For most of us, the single greatest threat to our faith in God and his promises has been the miles we have walked in the desert. Suffering is the proving ground for what we believe. How will we respond when things go badly? Will adversity, disappointment, and crisis undo our trust in God and hope for the peace, joy, safety, and love of the gospel?
The apostle Peter writes his first letter to Christians in conflict. Since following Jesus, these believers have not found the peace, safety, or relief that they might have expected. This world and their lives continue to be marred by inconvenience, disease, disappointment, persecution, and even death.
Peter writes, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice” (1 Peter 4:12–13). Is there a more counter-cultural, counter-human-nature message in the Bible than this? Jesus invites us to follow him and enter into inexpressible and glorious joy, even in the most bitter, heartbreaking, and excruciating moments of our lives.
Our prayer in the desert is not simply for strength and survival, but for joy. Only Christians can truly rejoice in trials, because only Christians find more of God there.
Death-Defying God
Ironically and beautifully, in God’s providence, trials are meant by God to serve our fullest and most lasting good and happiness. Peter begins that same letter with praise: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!” (1 Peter 1:3). Why?
According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you. (1 Peter 1:3–4)
Blessed be the life-giving, death-defying, all-powerful God of absolutely miraculous mercy. If you believe and follow Jesus, you willface really difficult — likely even more difficult — things in this life. But the God who raises the dead is now your God. He is now with you, not against you. God has given you a new, true, and full life through his Son, Jesus. And the life he gives is filled with an unconquerable, unquenchable hope.
Unfading Future
One day, this hope will give birth to an inheritance in and with God beyond our wildest imaginations. This inheritance is imperishable. It doesn’t need an annual checkup. It can’t be used up. It will not die. It cannot die. Because our heavenly Father, who gave us life and adopted us into his family, cannot die. Nothing can touch or steal or spoil this inheritance.
It is undefiled. It’s not tainted or polluted in any way. Everything we have in this life, even our most precious possessions, are marred in some way by sin, either because they’re human and sinful, or because they sometimes tempt us into sin. Families, jobs, friends, sports, music, they’re all good and can be loved and enjoyed for God’s glory, but because of sin — because of our broken, deceitful, sinful hearts — there’s nothing perfectly good or safe or pure in this life. But our eternal hope, our heavenly inheritance, will be undefiled.
The inheritance we have with and from God is unfading. It cannot die, but everything fades with time, right? Passion fades. Energy fades as we age. Beauty fades. Our cars seem sturdy, well-built, reliable, but they fade. Our computers, fast and clean when we buy them, soon fade. They slow down and have to be replaced. Our bodies eventually age and break down and fail us. They fade. But our inheritance with God is unfading. Our hope is living and vibrant and filled with ever-renewing love, joy, and peace forever — always stronger, always deeper, never fading.
Learning to Love Desert Life
When we are faced with suffering, it’s not primarily about figuring out how to play the hand we’ve been dealt, but realizing the game is won. In Christ, our hand is already full of winning cards, so regardless of the particular situations, circumstances, or suffering we find ourselves up against, our hope is alive and our inheritance is huge because of God’s mercy to us in Jesus.
Faith like this will shock those around us. The world really doesn’t have a category for joy in suffering. They may rejoice in the baby born after the excruciating labor, or in the clean bill of health after hours of torment on a treadmill, or in the national pride and unity aroused after a terrorist attack. But they haven’t tasted joy in the pain, inthe insult, in the heartache. They may just see the beauty and power of Jesus while watching you walk through your deserts and battles, and finally believe him for themselves.
God uses suffering to strengthen and purify our faith in his promises like nothing else. What we hold faithfully through trials, we are more likely to hold in the face of temptation. So, God sovereignly wields suffering to purify our hearts and our resolves for him so that we shine more brightly with his light and sufficiency. When we hold onto Christ through the loss, through the cancer, through the betrayal, we say that he is enough — that he is worth it all — and we prove that the Spirit is in us, sealing us and keeping us forever.
The suffering very painfully, but also very sweetly and powerfully, serves to prepare us for eternity and to display our good news to those around us now.
article source: http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/my-joy-in-the-desertWednesday, April 5, 2017
Gold Star day
Today is Gold Star Spouses day. My children and I were presented with military gold stars this past summer and entered a "family" of the bravest, strongest women I have ever met. We all belong to a club we never ever wished to be a part of even in our worst nightmares and yet I am so thankful for the love and advise of each of those who have journeyed alongside me. They have shown me how to be strong and loved me when I wasn't.
This beautiful stained glass banner was a gift to me from a friend last summer. If you see a gold star in someone's window, it is because they have lost a loved one due to a service-related military death. A blue star means that someone is currently serving in the armed forces, usually in a combat zone. Multiple stars stands for the number of members serving. Also, Gold Star Mothers day, for those who have lost a child serving in the military is September 24th.
This beautiful stained glass banner was a gift to me from a friend last summer. If you see a gold star in someone's window, it is because they have lost a loved one due to a service-related military death. A blue star means that someone is currently serving in the armed forces, usually in a combat zone. Multiple stars stands for the number of members serving. Also, Gold Star Mothers day, for those who have lost a child serving in the military is September 24th.
Monday, April 3, 2017
faith thoughts and an update
I thought I would update with a few things on my heart. I have recently had a few people ask me how I
have managed to be doing “so well” or how I have managed to get through these
past nine months with such strength. I
wanted to be sure to let others know that I have not been well or strong on my
own account - that has been 100% God’s healing work. He has been my strength, my comfort, and my
joy. I have just been diligent about
pursing His presence, that’s all. And since we
moved to California right after Ryan’s death, I have been slowly settling in here
and meeting others As I get to
know these new friends, however, my story eventually comes out and I almost
feel guilty or awkward explaining that my husband died without tearing up,
crying, or really showing any sad emotion with the explanation. It is not that I am not sad or not still
grieving, it is just that I cannot stay in that tragic place of deep, raw grief
forever. And I have had to tell my story
so many times (even a very condensed version), that I can now just tell it matter-of-factly,
without the overwhelming emotion. And as
I watch other people’s reactions, they seem to stare at me like, can this woman
really be telling me this sad and tragic turn of events and not be crying? But the truth is, I am cried out. I am exhausted from the sadness. I miss the joy in my life. In fact, I am feel drawn to and crave
happiness and joy after being in such a dark, sad place for so long. I think I crave joy more than I ever have, if
that could be possible? I have always
had a pretty bubbly, cheerful, and friendly personality and I so have missed
that aspect of myself. I have wanted
that Jen to return. So I have been desperately
searching for those things that bring joy and happiness back to my world again. And lately it is the little things that most
make me smile – a flower bud opening up in my garden, my son and nephews
throwing rocks in the river, a run along the beach, my puppy chasing his
ball. These little things make me pause,
smile, and appreciate each breath and each moment. And I am drawn towards the faithful people
that have been willing to sit with me and help me appreciate the simple,
healing joys of God’s creation. You all
know who you are and I love each of you.
And as I really think about how the kids and I have been going through the grieving process, how we surprisingly seem to be navigating it pretty well, I have realized that my children have been grieving their whole entire lives. As military children, they have said more “good-byes” in their early childhood than most other people do in their entire lifetime. Not necessarily to death, but their whole lives have been as series of leaving behind friends, family, houses, activities, and familiar places only to settle into making new friends, entering new activities, unpacking new houses, and exploring new places over and over. And in between each of their own moves, they have said a constant stream of good-byes to friends and neighbors who have left on their new adventures, waving farewell to moving trucks through tear-stained eyes. But military kids learn early on that you cannot stay sitting in that sadness. They cry, they dust themselves off, and they bravely get up and go meet the new neighbor arriving, knowing both how it feels to be the “new kid” and the “kid left behind.” My children learned at a very, very early age that sorrow and joy can coexist. They have witnessed and lived it their whole lives. They have been sad, but they have never let it steal their joy. They have also learned to empathize and grieve and rely on each other and their faith. And I am not in any way saying that the death of a parent can compare to saying good-bye to a neighbor friend. But I am saying that when the most horrific event possible happened - the death of their daddy - my kids have been able to deal with the crushing pain, sadness, and grief in a healthy way. They hurt, yes. Oh, they hurt. But they are resilient and they are brave. And they have not let grief steal their joy.
As for Katherine, she is dancing four nights a week now, getting ready for the June Dancefest at her ballet school So between schoolwork and dance rehearsals, she is pretty busy. In her spare time she is either sketching, painting, or talking to friends on the phone (or all at the same time!). She has finally gained a good grasp on the algebra that plagued her for so long and I am so glad to see her math grade go up. She has been a straight-A student with the exception of that pesky algebra! I have been talking with her school counselor and they just sing praises of her at school, how sweet and caring she is to others and how she will happily participate or work with anyone. That made my mama heart so happy to hear, especially when I often get the eye-rolling, sighing teenage attitude here at home... We are getting ready for high school in the fall. Katherine will still go two to the homeschool charter school two days per week, where she will take American Literature, American History, Physical Science (chemistry & physics), Writing, and whatever elective she chooses there. This year she initially chose chess as her elective, but then she switched after the first quarter to Yearbook and became the yearbook editor. I think that suits her well, she has an artistic eye for putting together layouts and she enjoys collecting pictures of classmates. The rest of her classes will continue to be done at home (math is online). And I have been talking with another mom from Kate's dance school about possibly enrolling the girls together at our local community college for a course or two in the coming year, so she can begin to earn some dual enrollment college credits. We will see if that comes together this year or next year. Her current career goal is to work for Disneyland as a Disney princess. She has actually researched the interview, hiring, and training process (it is quite extensive!), and she has even looked into what colleges are near Disneyland so she can work there while going to college. She is also interested in animation and other graphic arts careers but seriously, once a princess, always a princess...
And as I really think about how the kids and I have been going through the grieving process, how we surprisingly seem to be navigating it pretty well, I have realized that my children have been grieving their whole entire lives. As military children, they have said more “good-byes” in their early childhood than most other people do in their entire lifetime. Not necessarily to death, but their whole lives have been as series of leaving behind friends, family, houses, activities, and familiar places only to settle into making new friends, entering new activities, unpacking new houses, and exploring new places over and over. And in between each of their own moves, they have said a constant stream of good-byes to friends and neighbors who have left on their new adventures, waving farewell to moving trucks through tear-stained eyes. But military kids learn early on that you cannot stay sitting in that sadness. They cry, they dust themselves off, and they bravely get up and go meet the new neighbor arriving, knowing both how it feels to be the “new kid” and the “kid left behind.” My children learned at a very, very early age that sorrow and joy can coexist. They have witnessed and lived it their whole lives. They have been sad, but they have never let it steal their joy. They have also learned to empathize and grieve and rely on each other and their faith. And I am not in any way saying that the death of a parent can compare to saying good-bye to a neighbor friend. But I am saying that when the most horrific event possible happened - the death of their daddy - my kids have been able to deal with the crushing pain, sadness, and grief in a healthy way. They hurt, yes. Oh, they hurt. But they are resilient and they are brave. And they have not let grief steal their joy.
And just like we used to tell our friends as their moving
trucks pulled away, “it is never ‘good-bye,’ it is always ‘see you later,’” my children know that they will see their
daddy again. It is never “good-bye,” it
has always been “see you later.” Their faith
has been strengthened to know that their daddy is in heaven and they will one day
be there too. And in the meantime, they
have work here on earth to do first. It
does not make them any less sad, but it takes some of the sting and the fear out
of death. And to be honest, I do not
fear death anymore. In fact, I welcome
it. I have had to really think through
what I believe these past few months.
Tragedy tests your faith – when put to the fire, we can either lean on
what we believe to be the Truth or we turn away from it. As a young adult, I remember two of my
friends going through absolutely horrific losses, both to cancer. One lost a sibling and another lost her young
child. They were both families of strong
faith and they relied on God to heal and comfort them. I remember watching them go through that
process, trying to put myself in their shoes, and thinking there was absolutely
no way I would ever be able to handle that kind of sadness, pain, and
grief. I also remember thinking I may not want a
close relationship with God because what if God allowed that kind of pain to
happen to people with such strong faiths because they could endure it? Maybe I was better off keeping God at arm’s
length just because if I was not equipped to handle that kind of tragedy, maybe
it would not happen to me? I know that is a
strange and immature train of thought, but I was a baby Christian at the time
and those were real fears of mine. For some
reason, I remembered that line of thought recently and wonder if others have had similar thoughts?
I wonder if a few of you all reading this have tried to put yourselves in my shoes (imagining the loss of their beloved spouse) and also felt they
could never ever endure that kind of pain?
The thing is, we really don’t have a choice. Tragedy and pain happen – but the more we
know our loving God, the more we realize He sits with us in the pain and He grieves
with us and He hurts with us. It is not
that Christians can handle more pain, it is that we have a ray of hope because we
have a God that hurts with us and we are never alone. The day after Ryan’s funeral, I remember
literally curling up in a ball on the couch and wanting to die. I prayed that God let me fall asleep and not
wake back up because I just wanted the pain to be over. Thankfully, God did not grant that prayer –
instead He sat with me and grieved with me.
And after crying through some of that raw pain from losing the
one person I was terrified of ever having to live without, it turns out I can
be pretty fearless. If you had asked me
a year ago what scared me the most, I would probably have answered something
about losing someone I love - my husband or my children. I feared death, avoided conversation about or even thinking about death, and I was a little paranoid about keeping everyone I love safe and close.
I mean all mamas have that “mama bear” instinct to protect their
families, that is normal, but I also had a fear of death or pain itself. Deployments absolutely terrified me because I
was always afraid something would happen to Ryan. In fact, Ryan knew this about me well enough that he would not
tell me about any combat-type situations in the desert until after he came home, protecting me from worrying as much during the deployment itself. And he went out of his way to protect and
provide for me when he knew he was losing his battle this past June. He understood how terrified I was of losing
him and it was one of the things that made him hang on a lot longer than he
said he could have otherwise. But then,
unexpectedly and horrifically, I did lose my Ryan. And I was forced to face what I really
believed about death and faith.
And our God comforted me with the assurance that death does not win. Death is not the end of the story for those of us who believe. In fact, with death I get to be reunited with Ryan and meet our Comforting God face to face. I anticipate that I still have a lot of years left here on earth, that God still has work for me to do here. And that my children still need their mama to finish raising them. But if I were to die today, I want others to know that I am okay with that. I will be in the place I long to be in, where there are no more tears or hurts or pains. It will be a glorious day for me. I hope that my loved ones will remember and know that when I die - that that will be a joyful day for me. When a believer dies, our tears are for us here on earth, because we miss our loved one so much, but they are not tears for the departed – because they are safe and cared for and loved more than we could ever care for or love them here on earth. I know that now. And so death has lost its sting. It also brings about a new outlook on life. If I no longer consumed with fear or sadness, I want the years I do have here on earth to count for something. I do not want to just go through the motions of life, being busy with “stuff.” I want to reach out to those that are hurting. I want to comfort those who fight battles with depression like Ryan did or those who feel the hopelessness and shock of grieving a loved one. My life will always, forever, be filled with a sadness and pain over the loss of Ryan. The raw pain does lessen or soften, but it will always be present. But my life is also filled with a hope and a joy in my heart that I think only can be found after experiencing this level of pain and darkness. Joy comes in the morning because we have experienced the darkness of night. And we find a purpose and a hope in the daylight because we remember the fear and the darkness of our night. And maybe those of us emerging from darkness are supposed to carry the pain with us, so we can remember it and use it to reach back and help those still in it, those who have not yet entered the daylight.
And our God comforted me with the assurance that death does not win. Death is not the end of the story for those of us who believe. In fact, with death I get to be reunited with Ryan and meet our Comforting God face to face. I anticipate that I still have a lot of years left here on earth, that God still has work for me to do here. And that my children still need their mama to finish raising them. But if I were to die today, I want others to know that I am okay with that. I will be in the place I long to be in, where there are no more tears or hurts or pains. It will be a glorious day for me. I hope that my loved ones will remember and know that when I die - that that will be a joyful day for me. When a believer dies, our tears are for us here on earth, because we miss our loved one so much, but they are not tears for the departed – because they are safe and cared for and loved more than we could ever care for or love them here on earth. I know that now. And so death has lost its sting. It also brings about a new outlook on life. If I no longer consumed with fear or sadness, I want the years I do have here on earth to count for something. I do not want to just go through the motions of life, being busy with “stuff.” I want to reach out to those that are hurting. I want to comfort those who fight battles with depression like Ryan did or those who feel the hopelessness and shock of grieving a loved one. My life will always, forever, be filled with a sadness and pain over the loss of Ryan. The raw pain does lessen or soften, but it will always be present. But my life is also filled with a hope and a joy in my heart that I think only can be found after experiencing this level of pain and darkness. Joy comes in the morning because we have experienced the darkness of night. And we find a purpose and a hope in the daylight because we remember the fear and the darkness of our night. And maybe those of us emerging from darkness are supposed to carry the pain with us, so we can remember it and use it to reach back and help those still in it, those who have not yet entered the daylight.
As for the children, here is a quick update on what they have been up to lately... Charlie had his second clarinet recital last month up at the PAC on Cal Poly. He has been excelling at clarinet. He has one more concert in May before the summer break and he may move up to the Symphonic Winds group this fall. He loves playing and I never have to tell him to practice. He is also busy in Cub Scouts. We built a boat that he raced at the Raingutter Regatta and since our weather has been so gorgeous, Charlie insisted he HAD to take his boat to the neighborhood pool almost daily to "test" it out. He has been swimming a lot lately and his strokes are coming together nicely (as a former swim coach, I had to throw in a praise of that...). Charlie is getting ready to cross over from Cub Scouts to actual Boy Scouts in June. This past month he was also elected Patrol Leader for his Scout den - he won the election by one vote and came home just so excited about that! He has been telling me that we now live with an "elected official." He is a kid that loves order and structure, so the fact that he gets to open and close the meetings is pretty cool. And seeing him take a leadership role (even if it means he mostly chooses to delegate stuff to someone else!) is really neat to watch. He has been active in homeschooling g, loving PE class and working on a science project with two other homeschool boys for the local STEM expo in May. The three of them are engineering some type of spring-powered catapult ball race contraption thing... Watching the three of them get really excited and animated about this project makes me smile - I think we may have a future engineer on our hands...
As for Katherine, she is dancing four nights a week now, getting ready for the June Dancefest at her ballet school So between schoolwork and dance rehearsals, she is pretty busy. In her spare time she is either sketching, painting, or talking to friends on the phone (or all at the same time!). She has finally gained a good grasp on the algebra that plagued her for so long and I am so glad to see her math grade go up. She has been a straight-A student with the exception of that pesky algebra! I have been talking with her school counselor and they just sing praises of her at school, how sweet and caring she is to others and how she will happily participate or work with anyone. That made my mama heart so happy to hear, especially when I often get the eye-rolling, sighing teenage attitude here at home... We are getting ready for high school in the fall. Katherine will still go two to the homeschool charter school two days per week, where she will take American Literature, American History, Physical Science (chemistry & physics), Writing, and whatever elective she chooses there. This year she initially chose chess as her elective, but then she switched after the first quarter to Yearbook and became the yearbook editor. I think that suits her well, she has an artistic eye for putting together layouts and she enjoys collecting pictures of classmates. The rest of her classes will continue to be done at home (math is online). And I have been talking with another mom from Kate's dance school about possibly enrolling the girls together at our local community college for a course or two in the coming year, so she can begin to earn some dual enrollment college credits. We will see if that comes together this year or next year. Her current career goal is to work for Disneyland as a Disney princess. She has actually researched the interview, hiring, and training process (it is quite extensive!), and she has even looked into what colleges are near Disneyland so she can work there while going to college. She is also interested in animation and other graphic arts careers but seriously, once a princess, always a princess...
Cub Scouts Blue & Gold |
STEM engineers |
cousins throwing rocks at the river |
river fun with littlest nephew |
clarinet spring performance |
little clarinetist |
my water loving boy |
beach boy |
cousins at the pool |
artist girl's painting in progress |
my princess |
dance girls |
do all teenagers love snapchat?! |
sewing ribbons on her pointe shoes |
dance rehearsal |
blessing others
My amazing casualty assistance officer moved on to a new job title this month and I was assigned a new person. There really is not a lot the CAO does for our family anymore, but they are committed to checking in on the kids and I every month or two as a "healthy and safety check," and Air Force Families Forever are there to provide a continued connection to the military for our family. I appreciate how they have been there to answer my random questions, give me hugs, and help me get through the mess of AF paperwork and legalities these past months. The new CAO gave my kids a big box yesterday full of goodies from the America Cares campaign, a program that comforts the families of fallen soldiers. I watched my children delight over the "surprise" and realized it is amazing how a box of simple items, packed with care and love, can bring such a smile to the face of someone. It made me realize how little time it takes to put together a care package for someone, yet the delight of the receiver is enormous. I especially wanted to say a huge THANK YOU to all of you who sent me care packages last summer. The sweet letters, words of encouragement, and little treats - and ESPECIALLY the birthday gifts for my children - they all blessed me in more ways than I can say. I apologize if I did not verbalize how much that meant to me at the time. But it has also encouraged me to find simple ways to bless others. I wanted to share an organization called Soldier's Angels that provides letters of encouragement, birthday cards, and care packages to our military members during times of deployment or hardship. My children and I are going to join the card sending team. But we may at some point "adopt" a deployed member and put together care packages for them. In seeing how much these little items of love and prayer lifted my children's spirits, I want to encourage them - and you all reading this - to know that your small, random acts of kindness never go unnoticed.