pictures

On Wednesday evening at my Griefshare Bible study, we each brought in a picture of our loved ones. I was glad to put a face with a name for the others who talk about the ones they lost.  And I was happy to share my pictures of my Ryan.  I could not decide on one, so brought these three:

gifts

In a message, a sweet friend of mine mentioned that she thought Ryan must have had a hand in picking the perfect house for me.  I had not thought about that perspective at all.  But I think she is right!  There are SO, SO many little details in this house that are like little gifts to me.

I had only walked through the house one time, very briefly, before purchasing it.  The real estate market in California is crazy and houses sell quickly often on the same day they are listed.  So the day this house came up, down the street from my sister, on a whim, we visited.  The kids instantly liked it and it "felt right," or at least as right as it could.  At that time, I was not ready to begin to think about a home without Ryan, but also knew that practically we could only impose on family for so long (even though they sweetly insist otherwise).  But I made an offer (there were six offers that day) and prayed that God just make the decision for me.  He blessed us with the house.  Then I spent two months (60 day escrow) trying not to think about the house and avoiding anxiety about moving into it.

But now here we are and now that we have been in it for a week, I realize what a true blessing this house is.  It is a gift.  For having bought a house in the midst of when my grief was still too debilitating to really look at it, I did not want to see and was not able to see any of the little details then.  But this house truly is full of gifts.

There are butterfly and hummingbird bushes in the yard (I always wanted one in a garden) and birds zip all through my yard each morning.  The previous owners left a hummingbird feeder right outside the kitchen window.  How did they know I love to sit in the mornings with my tea and watch birds?  For those that know me, they know how much I absolutely love birds.  Ryan knew.  He cheerfully put up with all my bird feeders and bird houses.  He even helped me take care of several orphaned fledglings over the years.  So to see all these birds outside makes my heart happy. 

But it's not just the yard with the bird-attracting bushes, it is all the little details.  There are the exact light fixtures I have always admired here (base housing can be so boring).  The paint color is exactly what Ryan and I talked about wanting.  The kitchen, oh my goodness, the kitchen!  It is perfect.  Ryan would have loved it.  Ryan loved to cook (and was absolutely amazing at it too!).  He would have loved this kitchen - it has a window over the sink and an island for stools (both things we wanted).  The cabinet color, and even the hardware on the doors - all what we would have picked together.  I could go on and on about the details.  So many perfect details.  Ryan and I have just lived in SO many homes over the past 15 years that we have had a chance to see and discuss details we liked and didn't like in each.  Seriously, it feels like this house is the perfect mix of all the features we have always talked about liking from each home we've ever had, all in one.  Like our dream home.  And I have spent this last week being extremely angry and sad and upset about each and every one of these perfect details.  Because Ryan is missing it.  How do I enjoy any of this without Ryan?  I have only been able to focus on the cruel irony and my hurt feelings over the things that would have ordinarily brought joy in any other situation.

But when my friend mentioned that she thought Ryan had a hand in picking this house, it made me questio my angry.  I guess it made me change my perspective.  So today when I broke down in tears, I tried to look at each little detail as a gift.  That God is blessing me in my grief with little gifts of comfort, under Ryan's advice and urging.  I don't know how theologically sound that is, but it just feels so true.  I love the idea of Ryan knowing me so well and watching out for me from heaven.  And Ryan loved to give gifts.  He loved to randomly surprise me with flowers or sweettarts (my favorite candy) or just sweet little tokens to make me smile all the time.  Often for no reason other than with a note that would say "I love you."  So I am trying to see each blessing in this house as a gift, from God, that Ryan helped orchestrate.  Ryan always said he loved to make me smile, so it should not surprise me that he would find a way to keep doing that even now.  I am thankful for my friend's words, given in the right timing, to remind me to lift my focus out of the pit and up onto Him who is good.  
"A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver."  (Proverbs 25:11)

Even the fact that we have friendly neighbors who put a cheerful sunflower in their welcome basket!  Sunflowers have always been my favorite flower.  Our new neighbors would not have known that.  But Ryan knew.  Again, another sign of blessing.  Ryan even heard me say over the years how much it bothered me that people nowadays just come and go from their houses without really getting to know their neighbors.  So even just the fact that three friendly neighbors have introduced themselves to me this week means that God put it on their hearts to bless me.  And, again, I believe Ryan had a hand in orchestrating the environment where I would be living.  He truly is taking care of us and watching over us from heaven, just as lovingly as he always has.  So if you see me choosing the easier path of despair or anger, please, please help remind me or help me remember to focus on where my blessings actually come from.  I sometimes need reminders.  That, and I love to hear my Ryan's name spoken.

So all in all, this has been a very difficult week.  But I am learning to smile as I think about how much Ryan loved us.  And the fact that just because Ryan is not physically with me here on earth anymore, his love is still here.  I can see it in each gift of each day.  And it is helping turn my anxiety, sadness, and anger to a smile. 

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  (James 1:17)

jealous of the angels

A friend sent me the link to this beautiful song and I am sitting here sobbing and listening.  I wanted to share:

"Jealous of the Angels"

I didn't know today would be our last
Or that I'd have to say goodbye to you so fast
I'm so numb, I can't feel anymore
Prayin' you'd just walk back through that door
And tell me that I was only dreamin'
You're not really gone as long as I believe

There will be another angel
Around the throne tonight
Your love lives on inside of me,
And I will hold on tight
It's not my place to question,
Only God knows why
I'm just jealous of the angels
Around the throne tonight

You always made my troubles feel so small
And you were always there to catch me when I'd fall
In a world where heroes come and go
Well God just took the only one I know
So I'll hold you as close as I can
Longing for the day, when I see your face again
But until then

God must need another angel
Around the throne tonight
Your love lives on inside of me
And I will hold on tight
It's not my place to question
Only God knows why
I'm just jealous of the angels
Around the throne tonight

Singin' hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
I'm just jealous of the angels
Around the throne
Tonight

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0n67dSG35L4

hope

A friend gave me this cute cross back in July.  I just hung it up in my kitchen today.  

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."  (Romans 15:13)

sunset

I was helping Charlie set up the trampoline in the backyard tonight and looked up to see this gorgeous  sunset.  I felt like God was painting it for me and Ryan was blessing me with a gift.  Ryan knew how much I loved sunsets.  I would often call him out to the back porch to enjoy the evening colors.  We had some gorgeous skies in Texas and beautiful sunsets over the Potomac in DC.  I know Ryan was not nearly as excited as I was over the colorful displays, but he was always sweet enough to come "ooh" and "ahh" at the sky with me.  I felt like tonight was no different.  A heavenly blessing.
"They who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs; You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy."  (Ps. 65:8)

seasons

I placed a small pumpkin on my porch this week since it is the first week of fall.  I normally love the change in seasons.  It was something I loved about living on the east coast, we got to see all four seasons change so dramatically.  But today I looked at that pumpkin and realized Ryan died four days after the first day of summer.  It was the most horrific summer of my life.  It was the most horrific season of my life.  Most of summer 2016 is just a blur of pain, sickness, and shock, a lot of fuzzy details really.  But now, a few days after the first day of fall, I realize Ryan won't get to see this fall.  Or winter.  Or spring.  Or next summer.  I just miss Ryan so much this week.
"And God said, 'Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night.  And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and for years.'" (Gen. 1:14)

flashlight moments

This article below has so many similarities to how I often feel.  The details of the situation are obviously different than Ryan's, but the shock and trauma are the same.  And the need for "flashlight moments" are the same.  Just wanted to share.

Link to original article:

http://www.taps.org/HopeHelpHeal/Little/#.V-lxj8lh7gc.facebook

Flashlight Moments by Ami Little
At 4 a.m. on July 20, 2015, I received a text message from my husband telling me to call the police and tell them where to find him. After a total of 36 months in Iraq and Afghanistan, he suffered from post-traumatic stress tied to a traumatic brain injury. Jimmy did seek help when it was provided, but for another year and a half he was unable to seek help either due to lack of availability or the fear of his career and reputation being ruined. Unfortunately, the light was no longer there, and he ended his life before the sun could rise that morning.

I became a widow at the age of 23. I felt confused. I felt lost. I felt alone. But more than those feelings, I felt guilty that I was unable to save him. Unfortunately, other people also felt that way. From relatives to distant friends, the number of fingers directing the blame to me increased. Quickly, my moments that were meant to be spent grieving the loss of my husband turned into looking at myself in the mirror wanting to join him.

Looking back, I understand why people pointed the finger. It was because of a lack of knowledge on post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries. At that time, I did not even understand the effects these things had on an individual, their relationships with family and friends, and the strain it put on a marriage. I did not realize that all these pieces, these moments that I was questioning, were the effects of these invisible injuries.

About six months after my husband died, someone placed their prescription eye glasses on my face and asked me how everything appeared. I stated that everything looked fuzzy. That is when I realized that my husband saw everything in this fuzzy manner. Nothing appeared clear for him.

All of these little pieces, these little moments I kept questioning, were parts of a puzzle. After months of rearranging the pieces, researching, talking to doctors and veterans, I finally put all of the pieces together. The final picture that this puzzle provided, once complete, answered the who, what, when, where, why and how of the post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries that claimed my husband's life. Part of completing that puzzle was fighting through my own struggle with mental illness caused by the loss of my husband and the tragic events that took place after his death.

That is when I found hope - when my flashlight turned on. The most healing aspects of it all have been the countless opportunities I have been given to pass hope, to hand over the flashlight, to someone else. I have decided that I will channel my grief into something bigger than myself. Since then, I have been able to speak words of hope and encouragement to veterans who are fighting this battle, pray with spouses and families of veterans for strength and guidance on supporting their loved ones during this journey, and to continue putting one foot in front of the other every single day. I continue to honor my husband by letting the aftermath of my loss be the flashlight for someone else.

I realize that staying silent does not make a difference in this suicide epidemic. Sharing my story, sharing my husband's story, could be what changes everything for someone else. It could be their flashlight moment. 

Ami Little, surviving spouse of Sgt. James Donald Little, III

seek Him

I will admit, this has been a rough week.  I knew it would be.  Moving is always exhausting, but this, this is emotionally exhausting.  I was, however, blessed to have Ryan's mother and brother here visiting and to spend time with them this weekend, hugs and tears together.  Then today the temperatures reached the 90's (a rarity for this coastal area!), so I decided to forego unpacking, and after church took Charlie and my nephews to the pool.  We had so much fun swimming and splashing together!  Then the kids and I just hung out at my sister's house until the kids' bedtimes.  We live eight houses away from each other - another blessing.  We always have fun together.  But it really feels like I have just been procrastinating or avoiding the hard work of grief still awaiting me.  Like it is lingering out there.  And so here I am in my new house, fighting anxiety over the waves of grief that roll through in the quiet hours.  I seriously felt tonight like I could not handle this, this "new normal," this missing Ryan so much I can't breath all over again, this grief.  What I wouldn't give to just see my Ryan walk through that door and hug him!  But he is not going to and I can't on this side of heaven.  And I do love the new house - but the problem is Ryan would have loved it too.  So I am pulling out my Bible and looking for comfort, for hope to cling to.  "How long, Lord?  How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?  But I trust in your unfailing love, my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing the Lord's praises, for has been good to me." (Ps. 13:1-2, 5-6).  Reflecting on God's love does not instantly remove my sorrow, but it does ease the pain and put my eyes towards the one who gives hope.  "I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope."  (Ps. 130:5).  And the hope God provides is not just wishful thinking; it is an absolute certainty.  I have said many times that God can bring good out of something horrific.  I think another way he will do that is by calling me to grow in some areas where before there was no growth.  This time of waiting and grief can be a time that I am intentional about listening and doing what God calls me to do.  With such a raw, tender heart, I am more perceptive of God's still small voice.  With a great need for comfort and relief from sorrow, I am expectant of His presence.  "The Lord is indeed close to the broken-hearted."  (Ps. 34:18).  I have learned that the experience of God's comfort is not automatic through.  If we draw near to God, He will draw near to us.  "Seek his face always."  (1 Chron. 16:11).  "He rewards those who earnestly seek him."  (Heb. 11:6).  We must be active in seeking.  Through grief, through losing my beloved, to not having my Ryan by my side, I have been brought suddenly and painfully to my knees in shock and sorrow, to the point that I had nothing left, but to seek Him.  And as I sought Him, he sought me back, with comfort.  My prayer is not to lose sight of that.  That even as my heart begins to heal and I learn to think of Ryan with joyful memories instead of this heartbreaking pain, that even in that transformation that I never stop actively seeking the one who performs that transformation that occurs in my heart.  That as my raw heart heals, that it does not harden or forget.  That I will ever praise Him who waits expectedly for us to seek Him.

on grief

moving day

Quick update, our household goods got delivered yesterday. The crew was there from 10am to 8pm, so a long day!  But I am so thankful it went smoothly.  We have had a lot of PCS crews and this one was one of the nicest.  A blessing.  I think I only teared up three times, once when they brought in Ryan's nightstand, once when a box came in labeled "husband's stuff," and a third time when the crew was assembling Kate's loft bed.  I overheard the workers commenting to each other on how awesome the bed was and how well made it is.  Ryan planned and built that bed for Kate - and it IS awesome and well-made.  I wish Ryan could have heard their compliments.  He was so humble, but would have like to hear their words.  Just so many emotions to process today.

Also, mid-day yesterday a second and third fire broke out on Vandenberg AFB.  They had already been battling a huge 10,000 acre blaze on South Base, where the SLC's (space launch centers) are located.  But these other two fires are on North Base, where a majority of the buildings, BX, commissary, housing are.  Thankfully housing is not in the path.  But only mission essential personnel are to be on base today, as a precaution.  Which means my sister and her husband get the day off to up me unpack...  :)  I put a few pictures of the view of the fire from our house below.  California just so badly needs rain.  If my Texas friends are reading this, will y'all send some of your rain this way??  And please pray for the hardworking firefighters who have put in so many long and dangerous hours this past week.  They are amazing.

The last thing I will share real quick is a blessing.  Yesterday evening our next door neighbors came by to introduce themselves, with a basket of warm bread and coffee.  They have two children, a daughter Kate's age and a son Charlie's age.  I almost cried and hugged them, because one of my prayers has been friends for Kate and Char.  But I thought a crying hug would be an awkward first impression, especially being the sweaty mess I was from moving - so I will just save that for another day.  You have to ease people into your craziness, right??  But it was just such a sweet blessing to have friendly neighbors welcome us.  

It is these little blessings, where God puts in on someone's heart to reach out, that bless us the most.  So I just encourage you all to smile at others, listen to God's gentle urge to step outside a comfort zone, and just know that your small kindnesses may go a lot further than you think.  My new neighbors probably have no idea at how much I needed a smile last night.

Now on to a weekend of unpacking, organizing, and probably a whole lot of emotions.