Good Friday thoughts

I miss Ryan.  I have not said those words for awhile, not because I have not been missing him but because life keeps moving and gets busy and missing him just kind of stays in the background of my day.  But sometimes I take time to pull those feelings out and just miss him.

And yesterday was Good Friday, the Friday before Easter, the day Jesus was crucified and died.  I was thinking about how the disciples and how Jesus’ family, friends, and followers must have felt on that Friday.  Back then, over 2,000 years ago, they did not know it as “Good” Friday, they just knew their friend and king had died.  Jesus was dead and gone. 

The Jewish people had put their hope in a savior who would free them from the oppression of the Roman authority at that time.  And how confusing it must have been for those close to Jesus to finally see their long-awaited savior arrive, but without sword, nor weapon, and not leading any visible army (although I imagine there was a heavenly angel army accompanying Jesus).  Their savior was very puzzling.  And then their savior died. 

Can you imagine how they felt?  They put their faith in Jesus to save them and then Jesus dies, quite willingly, without any fight or struggle or argument.  And of course we know today the story of how Jesus conquers death, is raised, and visits several of his friends before ascending into heaven.  But I still wonder how confused those who knew Jesus were.  Would the disciples have understood why Jesus died?  Would they have understood why such a terrible thing had happened to their friend and savior?

That Friday and Saturday, before the tomb is discovered to be empty on Sunday morning, had to have been two days of the most intense grief and deep confusion imaginable to many during that time.  Can you imagine the questioning?  God, why?  Why would you ask us to give up everything to follow you, and then you die right in front of us?  A king who comes to earth to die?  That was not what they expected.  That was not supposed to be what happened.  That’s not the story they had planned.  Their king was supposed to ride in, sword drawn, and defeat oppression in a mighty battle!  But that was not what God had planned.  God had planned to come, meekly and peaceably, and die. 

And even in the days, weeks, and months after Jesus is raised on what we call Easter Sunday, I have to wonder what went through the minds of those who knew Jesus?  Today we have over 2,000 years of brilliant theologians to interpret the events of the cross, parallel them to Old Testament prophesy, and debate the details of the theories of atonement to help us understand why Jesus died.  But Jesus’ friends and followers did not have that - they did have the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, just as we do, to teach and guide them, but I can only imagine the questions they had.  Why, God, would you choose to die?  Why did it happen that way?  I wonder how much the disciples really understood about the atonement of sin versus a blind reliance on faith, that having spent time in the presence of Jesus for three years, they were ready to act, no matter what questions they had about the how and why of God’s plan.  

Would I have had the faith to stick by Jesus when my idea of what my savior should look like crumbled before my eyes?  Would I have been so overcome with disappointment and grief that I would refuse to recognize the risen Jesus?  Would I have questioned God’s actions so much that I would fail to move forward in faith and obedience?  Would my lack of understanding have paralyzed me from trusting that God had planned to die?  Would that stuff just be too hard to grasp?  It is hard stuff.  God dying is hard stuff.

My point is that we do not always see or understand what God is up to, why he allows things to happen, or grasp the implications of his actions.  I imagine Jesus’ friends and followers were beyond bewildered and quite scared.  They had to just trust that all that Jesus taught them for the three years prior was Truth, and then cling to those teachings when their present reality seemed to scream the opposite. 

When a loved one dies, we have to cling to the Truth that God is good.  Because in that moment, nothing feels good.  I have to think that at least a few of Jesus’ disciples lived out the rest of their life still wondering why God chose to come to earth and free his people in the way that he did.  I have to think that at least a few continued, long after the ascension, to question why their king and savior chose death as the way to defeat the enemy.  I have to think that at least a few struggled with the tragic events of that Friday, trusting that God had a plan, but not being able to fully see or understand what was going on, even years afterward.  I have to think that at least a few of the faithful disciples or followers of Jesus died still not fully comprehending God’s actions.  

I will not know on this side of heaven why God did not reach down and save Ryan that tragic Friday two June’s ago.  But over 2,000 years ago many watched our savior die a painful death on a cross, in between two thieves, not understanding that they were being saved by that death.  There was a plan that those closest to Jesus did not see and could not understand.  They only felt intense grief, deep sorrow, and utter confusion for at least the two days before Easter.  But I believe their confusion and questioning had to have lingered much longer, as they wrestled with what they witnessed and struggled to understand the how and why.  

The disciples moved forward on faith, trusting and knowing that God could and would make something good from tragedy.  And, oh, how he did!  We, today, are freed from the grips of death by Jesus entering and defeating death itself.  And so when I miss Ryan the most, I have no choice but to move forward, in that example, on faith, trusting and knowing that God makes something good from tragedy.  And God always has a plan that is bigger and better than my limited view.  And sometimes that plan looks wrong, feels shockingly tragic, or does not make sense at all, but eventually the Easter morning sunrise comes and begins to illuminate that God is in control, he uses suffering, he is with me through the pain, and he is in this friendship thing with me for the long haul, for all of eternity.  And that is a good thing.

notification

So I read a press release (link below) the other day, published earlier this year about the Navy’s policy on notification of family when there is a military death, particularly in referrnce to social media, but also covering their notification policies in general.  Although it is a Navy document, and not Air Force, I find that I often keep an eye on these types of things.  I think it is important that the military keep revisiting, revising, and improving their policies on a lot of issues - mainly to do with the mental health of servicemembers and suicide prevention policies, but also issues of providing support to grieving family survivors.  So in reading this particular article, I was mostly just skimming the contents for information when my eye got caught on some very startling words in the thirteenth paragraph.  It stated:

“It [the Navy’s Handbook] specifically says that when there is an ‘adverse incident,’ family members who are approached by someone about it should ‘explain that you do not know and they should not speculate.’”

I got stuck there with a small wave of remembrance and pain.  Those were the exact words Ryan’s commander had said to me on the phone the morning that Ryan died.  The exact words, “Ma’am, I do not know and please do not speculate.”  I know this particular handbook is advising civilian family members on what to say (and when), but those exact words are so familiar to me that I imagine they are written in some protocol book that military leadership are to refer to when dealing with an “adverse incident.”  You see, Ryan’s commander and squadron knew he had died before I did but they were not allowed to inform me, or anyone, over the phone.  The rule is that news of a military death is only shared in person - you know, like in the movies, where you see the car pull up in slow motion and two officers in their dress blues get out, walk up to the door, and deliver devastating news to the unexpecting wife or mom or whichever family member that the military member had designated to be notified on the paperwork they filled out when they first entered the armed forces.  The dreaded “knock on the door” as they call it that every military wife is aware of but never wants to actually think about.
For me, that particular day, I was in California and Ryan’s commander was in Texas.  When Ryan could not be located, I already knew that something devastating was happening.  In hysterics, when the commander called to tell me that Ryan had been located, I had specifically questioned him with: “Please just tell me - is he is alive?”   When his answer was, “Ma’am, I do not know and please do not speculate,” I knew.  I knew Ryan was no longer alive - if he had been, the answer would have been “yes.”  And “yes” was not the answer I received.  That was the moment I began to sink into a completely devastating shock.  In fact I barely even remember the next few phone conversations with the commander over the course of the next hour or so.  Most of that day, and the week or so following, are very fuzzy to my memory.  Shock does that to you.  But two phrases given over the phone that day are burned into my memory.
I did not know until weeks later,but in that hour following Ryan’s death, the commander had asked for and was granted special permission by the Pentagon to deliver the news to me over the phone since Ryan’s death was already being reported by a local news agency in Texas.  The only two phrases I remember from those conversations are forever burned into my memory.  The first one being: “Ma’am, I do not know and please do not speculate.” And the second one coming later was: “I have been authorized to tell you that your husband’s body has been taken to the coroner.”  I am pretty sure that was the point when I dropped the phone, threw a glass of water someone had given me, and screamed in overwhelming pain, shock, and fear.  The rest of that day is pretty much lost in my memory except a fuzzy rememberance of officers from the local Air Force base knocking at the door, arriving as part of the military protocol, to confirm the news of Ryan’s death to me in person.
I had not realized, until reading this recent press release, that those original words spoken to me, “I do not know and please do not speculate,” were the words that are “authorized” to be said in these situations.  What a weird thing to realize and understand.  I guess it kind of amazes me that almost two years later I could still be piecing together some of the events of that day.

my Ryan’s dignified arrival and homecoming ceremony

 The link to the press release article: Navy Handbook

St. Patrick’s day

reckless love

Lately I am totally in love with this song (below) by Cory Asbury.  It just speaks to my heart.  And as I sing the verse about “leaves the ninety-nine,” I think of a painting I have on my dining room wall of the lost sheep story.  If you look carefully at the painting, you can count ninety-nine sheep out grazing peacefully in the green pasture while the shepherd is shown climbing up those rocky cliffs to rescue that one sheep stranded up there alone.  It has brought me immense comfort to think of my Good Shepherd’s completely reckless love, never-ending, and singing over me, his lost sheep.

Reckless Love by Cory Asbury

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me
You have been so, so good to me
Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me
You have been so, so kind to me
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me
You have been so, so good to me
When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me
You have been so, so kind to me
And oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine
And I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
There's no shadow You won't light up
Mountain You won't climb up
Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down
Lie You won't tear down
Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up
Mountain You won't climb up
Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down
Lie You won't tear down
Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up
Mountain You won't climb up
Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down
Lie You won't tear down
Coming after me
There's no shadow You won't light up
Mountain You won't climb up
Coming after me
There's no wall You won't kick down
Lie You won't tear down
Coming after me
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine
And I couldn't earn it, I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah 

“The Lost Sheep” painting by Larry Dyke

words

I love words.  I love their power and their meaning and the creative ability to take an abstract thought and form it into a communication, an idea to be shared with others or understood by.  I wonder if this is a tiny piece of how God feels - God who is the Word, who created everything out of the breathe of his mouth, who still holds everything together, and continues to create by his Word.  Just thinking on that, I have been taking one Bible verse every few days and just looking deeply at the words and their meanings.  Here are two that particularly comforted me this week.

John 14:21 “Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me... and I will love him and manifest myself to him.”

I looked up the word manifest and as a verb it means: to display or show a quality or feeling by one’s acts or appearance, to demonstrate, to reveal
And as an adjective manifest means: clear or obvious to the eye or mind, plain, apparent, evident, palpable, distinct, definite, glaring, undisguised, unmistakable, perceptive, visible, recognizable

My prayer is that God love me and manifest that nature towards me.  In other words, that God show, demonstrate, reveal, and display his love to me in ways that are very clear, perceptive, visible, and recognizable to my mind and eye, in ways that are obvious, even glaringly obvious or plain as day.  Beginning my day with this expectation, that by keeping God’s commandments in front of me, he will bless me with his visible love manifested before me is such a comfort. And if you keep reading verses 22-27, you see Judas (not Iscariot) question Jesus with “how is it that you will manifest yourself?” And Jesus explains that “the Helper, the Holy Spirit...will teach you all things” and “my peace I give to you.”  God will manifest his love to us in obvious and clear ways, by way of the Holy Spirit guiding us with peace and into peace.  God’s unmistakable appearance and communication with us, his loving manifested manifestation, always arrives as peace to our souls.  I love these words.

The second “word study” I did was with Proverbs 4:7 “The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom and whatever you get, get insight.”

At first this seems such a puzzling verse.  I looked up the definitions of wisdom and insight though and love these words.
Wisdom - experience, knowledge, good judgement, wise, soundness of action and decision, body of knowledge, intelligence, common sense, shrewdness, prudence

Insight - deep understanding, intuitive understanding, intuition, discernment, perception, awareness, comprehension, appreciation, judgement, acuity

I read this proverbs verse as the idea that as I receive knowledge, common sense, and intelligent information about God that I not be satisfied with just this head knowledge alone.  But that I seek to obtain deep understanding, an awareness of, and the intuitive feeling of God’s love in my life.  Beautiful words.

voice of God

“The doctrine of the inner light is not sufficiently taught.  To the individual believer, who is, by the very fact of relationship to Christ, indwelt by the Holy Spirit of God, there is granted the direct impression of the Spirit of God on the Spirit of man, imparting the knowledge of his will in matters of the smallest and greatest importance. This has to be sought and waited for.”
(G. Campbell Morgan)

first daffodil of the season 🌼 

WA pics

Just wanting to preserve a few memories and blessings from my February residency:

Renovaré Seattle Cohort 💕 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

view of Canadian mountains.from the top of Haystack Lookout

 

dining hall view  

passing by the Seattle space needle at sunset 

Morning Liturgy: “Listen to the Word God has spoken.  Listen to the One who is close at hand.  Listen to the Voice that began Creation.  Listen even if you don’t understand.”

wedding memories

Last night Charlie had a clarinet concert in San Luis Obispo (he has three concerts every year, so this was his March concert).  My sister and I took Kate and Charlie to the concert this time.  Driving home from SLO, we passed by the gorgeous place overlooking the ocean where my sister and her husband were married in 2008.  Charlie and I drive by it every week going to clarinet practice, but last night as we drove by with my sister we started talking about the wedding almost ten years ago.  Weddings are such joyous events so it was fun to recall those memories!  At that time, Ryan and I were living in Florida, Kate had just turned six years old, and Charlie had just turned two years old.  Ryan and I had flown out to California with the kids for the wedding preparations and the wedding itself that summer.  And as we drove home last night, my sister and the kids and I talked about how fun that day was, and we ended up talking about Ryan.  

I realized today that the conversation last night really was one of the first times I think since Ryan’s death that we all talked about him without an awkward pause, a silent sadness, or the looking around to see if anyone was struggling with the conversation.  I was actually driving so I could not make eye contact with my kids, but I heard both of their voices and I heard laughter and I heard joy and it was in the midst of a conversation talking about Ryan.  That is a big turning point for all of us.  It had been baby steps over the last 20 months to get to that place.  And honestly it is something I had hopefully anticipated but did not know if we would get there.  

I say I hopefully anticipated this because the closest situation I can think of to grieving the death of a loved one was the “mini griefs” my children experienced every time we moved.  When we tearfully left Florida, we had to focus on the positives in DC to emotionally survive the move.  And I remember we did not talk much about Florida for a few months after the move because it was just too painful.  And then after some space and time, we could talk about our friends and adventures and memories of Florida with gladness, instead of just sorrow.  But it took some settling in in DC and some time to allow that to happen.  And it repeated when we tearfully left DC for Texas.  I could not even look at pictures of DC or spend much time in thought about the friends and places we left behind without extreme sorrow.  But, again, a softening happened as I met new friends in Texas and allowed some time.  Eventually I could look back at DC with joy.  And so seeing that “pattern” I kind of rebought maybe at some point, maybe, even if years away, we would be able to talk about Ryan with something besides the sorrow and pain of his absence.  I really hoped we would someday be able to remember him with gladness.  And while we certainly are not there, the little conversation last night was a hopeful window for me into what maybe could be - an aching sorrow of missing, but mixed with the joy and gratitude of remembering.

I want to remember the memories and I was surprised that Kate had a few six year old memories of that day and she shared them - she was the flower girl.  And I talked about how since Kate and I were actually  in the wedding, Ryan was fully in charge of two-year old Charlie, making sure his curious self did not get into anything, run down the aisle after his mom or sister, or wander off during the ceremony.  I remember Ryan asking how he could help and I remember telling him something about just wrangling the two-year old would be job enough.  I told him even if you miss the ceremony, just make sure Charlie does not ruin anything.  Charlie, of course, was too young then to have any memories of that day, but he has seen pictures and he thought that was pretty funny last night.

Another memory I have is when my sister and her husband left the ceremony after getting married, they left to Star Wars music playing.  I remember Ryan leaning over and saying “I didn’t even know that was an option, because I totally would have done that!”  And I laughed and apologized, I didn’t know either, lol.  It was fun telling Kate and Charlie that memory and tfalking about weddings.  And apparently Ryan signed “Anakin Skywalker” in my sister and her husband’s guest book.  My sister told me that last night and I either never knew that or had totally forgotten that!  But that is so totally something Ryan would have done!  And I love, love, love getting any new information about Ryan.  The kids thought it was funny too. 

I think I have realized that when random memories of Ryan pop up, I want to talk about them and then record them (probably here on this blog) so that Kate and Charlie can keep hearing these stories and then come back and read them when they are older.  So I may just record those random things here as they bubble up in my memory.  Going through these memories is not me trying to move backward, or being “stuck” in my grief, but it is actually a celebrating and a remembering that brings joy.  I have been able to grasp that and cling to it in small doses, but I think last night really was one of the first times the three of us (and my sister along too) really embraced the sharing of memories with Ryan all together.  It made my heart happy. And below are just a ton of pictures from that precious day because I could not pick just one or two.  I am amazed that my sister and her husband’s two boys, my nephews, are now older than Kate and Charlie were in these pictures.  It seems like forever since my kids were this small, but this day also seems so recent to me.  Time is such a weird thing, going so extremely fast and so excruciatingly slow all at the same time.  

flower girl 

This picture of my dad, Ryan, & Charlie is literally one of my favorites

  

 

 

 

 

 

They are both SO tiny!

  

 

  

 

💕 

 

You can see how tired they both were by the end of the day

 

Kate with her aunt & soon-to-be uncle
 These pics below are the night before, rehearsal dinner 

 

 

 

  

While I am writing and thinking about weddings, I just remembered something one of my instructors shared last week about the story of Jesus at the wedding feast in Cana that was especially poignant to me.  A random observations but I wanted to share it.  My instructor mentioned how it had to have been such an act of faith for the servants at the wedding feast to fill those wine jugs with water.  I had never thought about the story from that perspective.  We always think about the miracle itself of the water turning into wine, but before the miracle could take place, Jesus gave what probably seemed like pretty absurd instructions.  He asked the servants to take those big heavy wine jugs, lug them to the town well, draw the water, fill the jugs, and then lug them, heavier now, back to the wedding, without a word of explanation.  Not only would it have made no sense to them, it was also hard work.  And we see Mary there, alongside Jesus, watching this scene, also with no additional information or knowledge - but with a solid faith in the one giving the instructions - and she urges the servants to “just do whatever he says,” even if it makes no logical sense.  You do not serve water at a wedding feast, and certainly not from wine jugs!  But without Mary’s encouragement and the faithful action of those servants, the miracle would never have happened.  I wonder how many times in my life God is urging me to “just go put water in the jugs, Jen” and I argue with him, “but why? It makes no sense... it’s going to be hard... I don’t understand how or why... maybe I didn’t hear you right, God, because water doesn’t go in wine jugs...” and on and on I go, doubting and wanting to know and understand before taking any step of action.  And the whole time God is just whispering, “put water in the jugs, Jen, trust me, put water in the jugs so the miracle can happen...”.