I allow myself a small pocket of sadness each anniversary and usually a pep talk about moving forward. I kind of linger, not wallow, in my blanket of memories and emerge on a brighter, hopeful side for the future. But, toss in a pandemic and twin storms eyeing the Gulf Coast...plus my inner war as an enneagram 6 personality laced with post-Harvey trauma and you have one mess of a girl. 

When paralysis and anxiety hit, I’ve learned to DIVE head first into the Scriptures. Stop everything and sit in them until peace and calm returns. It’s not an easy discipline with preparedness lists swarming around in my mind. 

But, poring over Scripture is always an adventure and often comes an Edison moment when Light shines on a passage. 

I wasn’t expecting this one:

Psalm 84:11

Hear it from the New Living Translation.

For the LORD God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory. The LORD will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.

Life will always have a series of storms in the queue, but storms, meet my great God!

He is my Protector...Period! Battle for my mind, meet my Commander; He is my Grace!  He will pick me up when the lies press heavy and He will never withhold his goodness; I only need to offer my heart. He is the Son that calms the storm. 

        Yes, good gifts are lining up as well.

        

 Usually I make a plan for this worst week ever. My August plans for Yellowstone were dashed by this incorrigible virus; profound loneliness seems my current destination. This go-around with my ugly enemy is crippling. I flirted with abandoning all rational thought; I even began equipping my small SUV for a solo trip to wherever. 

After realizing my ensuing  insanity, I unpacked my car, then unloaded my pain at the waiting feet of Jesus. Oh, when will I learn to begin there?

So in the cool of this morning, I slipped on my running shoes and earbuds and started over.  I’ve been building a playlist for the hardest messes; Steffany Gretzinger tops that list. 

“You're always moving in the unseen                            The breath You exhale sustaining me

Before I call, You know my need
You're always going before me

I'm confident Your faithfulness will see me through
My soul can rest, my righteousness is found in You
With every moment left, in every borrowed breath, let this be true
That all my heart, for all my life, belongs to You

Your laughter scatters my enemies
You give me joy for my mourning
You lift my head so I can see
All of Heaven surrounding me

I won't win this battle with the strength in my own hands
You're the mountain-mover and only You can
I won't build my life on sinking sand
You're my hope forever, the rock where I stand”

I walked a little further this morning...at times almost a respectable jog...head lifted a little higher. 

Truth is, the longing for human interaction has no end in sight, but neither does His Presence. Jesus remains my one faithful, confident traveling companion. 

I love pottery! My den is dotted with pieces I've collected from friends and travels. Some are treasured gifts from my sister-in-law, Nancy, and young artist friend, Jen. Whenever possible, I inquire about the potter's story; my favorites have been thrown by broken people, artists limping through life with great adversity.
I'm still searching for a piece repaired by kintsukuroi, the ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold or silver.  

Often these repaired pieces are more beautiful and valuable than the originals.

Rob's absence has left me in a heap of brokenness, but I'm convinced that the Master Potter is not only picking up the fragile shards, but forming something better with my life. 

This second year might possibly be my kintsukuroi  year, the season He holds this marred, uprooted life in his merciful hands and forms a vessel full of strength and compassion and usefulness.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.  Psalm 147:3

Behold, I am making all things new.  Rev. 21:5

.

Good Grief

The first anniversary proved to be a day of deep joy.  Good memories flooded my soul throughout this solemn December 4th.
I began with a visit to Rob's grave where I dressed it for the holidays.  Rob loved our annual Christmas tree. After lowering the den lights each December night, we sat hand in hand, soaking in the beauty of our tree full of glass ornaments, many from decades past. The years I strung white lights were not as bright as the ones when I lit the tree all multi-colored.  Rob loved color and he let me know! After a quick run to find Jayhawk blue ornaments, his tiny tree was complete! 

I finished by placing a homemade cross by his grave...the cross...assurance of his heavenly home

Yesterday was a time to remember the beauty Rob brought each of our lives, his gifts that are forever imprinted on our hearts. 

Good Grief

After checking on the kids and close family friends, I made my way to Ecclesia to attend The Gift of Christmas, an intimate night featuring three amazing women who gifted us with their God-given words.

photo credit: Compassion International
An extraordinary night of spoken word, passionate music, and rare authenticity...
Dozens of third world children found Hope as women grabbed sponsor packets.
I loved my rare opportunity to sit up close and rest in my Savior's love.
Good Grief
 The day closed with an all too brief visit with Ann. I hold tight those long hugs and whispers this morning.
Sisters who lay their hearts wide open through words
Good Grief
I begin the second year of life without Rob today.
Although a year of grief has finally passed, a milestone doesn't magically erase a life.
I was reminded yesterday of the pressure to perform for the comfort of others.
But, I was also encouraged to keep living a vulnerable life that is sometimes filled with sorrow and loss.
One can't heal the amputation of a soul with one short snuff of an anniversary.
Photo credit:Charles Schulz
I'll keep offering clumsy words and naming gifts. Grief will ebb and flow.
I'll keep Rob's powerful legacy afloat.
And that's good grief!

Dearest Rob,
I went to see our Grace play volleyball tonight. She's moved positions and is now the team's libero. She's using a lot of skills honed from her previous position as she adjusts to her new responibility.  You would have been so proud of her, diving for balls, thinking (literally) on her feet, and finishing strong.
I cheered loudly from both of us, Rob, just as you would want.
Leaving the gym in a cheerful mood, I asked myself, "Should I?" The night seemed too beautiful to sit in a lonely house on a Friday night...again.
"Why not?" and within minutes after hopping in the car, I was rolling down the road with the convertible top wide open to the night sky! Music turned up, breeze in my face, I drove until I escaped the city lights. Oh Rob, remember our fun dates in our string of convertibles?  Driving through bluebonnet lined country roads...exploring Texas in those two-seaters? Now I'm sorry for the few times I insisted that you keep "the lid on all the fun," making some flimsy excuse about the wind messing up my hair.
 Were you able to look down and see me parked in the country silence, staring up at the heavens?  Nothing but a few wispy clouds to hide the brilliance of the stars... I wonder; do you still look up and see stars or is Heaven closer than I think?
Rob, could you see me reach over and place my hand on the seat you occupied for five short months?  Funny how I caught myself repeating my familiar pat and whispering, "It's going to be okay."   And for the first time in months, I really thought it might be okay, at least for a while. I experienced some electricity traveling through these weary bones tonight and it felt good. Maybe like our Grace, I'm going to be able to infuse some of the old strengths into this new, shaky role...and finish strong. 
On the way home I grinned at how silly I must have looked, flying down that freeway, singing at the top of my lungs  and as I pulled into the driveway after my wild ride, lyrics, written for the Creator of song, caught my attention.  I wonder if He would mind if I assign them to you, Rob, just this once. 

Out on the farthest edge

There in the silence

You were there

My faith was torn to shreds 

Heart in the balance

And you were there

Always faithful, always good

You still have me

You still have my heart

And you do...