I'll Stand By You - In Memory of Joe Tully: November 11, 1955 to November 11, 2016

 

Happy Birthday Joe. Thought I’d tell you about Nepal, though you were there somehow, somewhere and everywhere. You’re part of me, so I guess we carried each other, like we used to. You always helped me get to where I needed to be. So I climbed -- higher, higher and higher into the thin air where the world’s tallest mountains stand like heavenly sentinels, silently shouting victory amidst an environment destined for struggle.

I didn’t know what I’d find in Nepal, but I had to go. And just like on Kilimanjaro, once I was sufficiently at the end of myself, what (Who) I needed found me.

“Be still, and know that I am God!” -- Psalm 46:10 (NLT)

At 16,000+ feet, everything is slow and fuzzy – thinking, breathing, movement and memory. My thoughts were simple: Do I wear the 3-day-dirty shirt or the 4-day-dirty shirt? Do I order porridge or pancakes for breakfast? Do I have enough toilet paper for the day? Did I Steri-Pen my water? Will I need an extra jacket today? Will the next tea house have hooks to hang our clothes? Will it be legal to go to bed at 7pm? Important stuff. I deliciously lost track of what day and time it was, how long we’d been hiking and even where I was. What a gift! Uncomplicated thoughts, hard physical work, one goal and a fabulously magical group of new friends with whom to share the journey.

I’m not exactly sure what happened when, but the impression resting on my soul is far more important than the fine details. We were about two weeks (give or take) into the trek to Everest Base Camp, and we’d been hiking for a while that day. The cumulative effects of lack of sleep, altitude and exhaustion were starting to take a toll. We were cresting a high point, and I remember I couldn’t reach my water bottle on the side of my backback. Oh, the struggle. A team member quickly came to help, and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I sobbed, I heaved, I yelled. I couldn’t stop. If a come-apart could be measured in meters, mine would’ve been an almost-8,000 meter one. [There are 14 mountains in the world that are over 8,000 meters. Everest is one of these. As it happens, Mount Nuptse, elevation 7,861 meters, was front-row-center to my come-apart.] Nuptse, awesome and immovable, received my pain without judgement and regarded me with raw and pure magnificence. My friends stood behind me, propping me up, bearing my full weight (which is no small feat). Others in our group waited in respect and silence, many deep in their own soulful moments, reflecting on Truth surfacing from the deep in the mountains’ splendor. We were all safe and loved, solitary yet one in the depth of our shared experience.

For me, this moment represented innumerable moments in my life that I’ve found difficult to reconcile. Joe’s dying lives with me every day, and I realize that the grief of that loss will never go away. Rebuilding is tough, especially for this Southern girl who had things easier once upon a time. Without going into details (again, it’s the impression that matters), it’s been a hard 7 years. Memories of my mother, my father, my brother, regrets, paths not chosen and paths taken away also surfaced as part of this meltdown. But in that moment with Nupste and new friends as witnesses, hard became holy. Loss became gain. It’s OK that grief stays with us. I’m not sure why I thought it would ever go away. Grief and joy go hand in hand. We can’t fully experience one without fully experiencing the other. I’m alive, and I get to experience both; for that, I’m profoundly grateful. Sun in the middle of rain indeed.

“To those who have sorrow in Zion I will give them a crown of beauty instead of ashes. I will give them the oil of joy instead of sorrow, and a spirit of praise instead of a spirit of no hope. Then they will be called oaks that are right with God, planted by the Lord, that He may be honored.” -- Isaiah 61:3 (NLV)

Joe died 7 years ago today. According to Google (the quintessential expert of everything), “The number 7 is quite significant in the Bible, appearing over 700 times throughout both the Old and New Testaments. In biblical numerology, 7 symbolizes completion or perfection. It is said that God created the world in 6 days and rested on the 7th.” I choose to believe that my perspective of sorrow and loss has changed forever. I pray that they remain in their proper place behind me. I choose to put one foot in front of the other and to discover the adventure, wonder and joy that is surely on the path ahead.

Everyone needed carrying at some point during our trek, and our group stood and delivered each time. Joe, I’ll stand by you again one day. Until then, I thank God for everyone who has helped me to stand when I’m beyond tired, when I can’t take another step, when I gasp for air -- when I’m finally at the end of myself. Namaste.

“Well I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
And don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
'Cause even if you're wrong

I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you.”

    --The Pretenders, I’ll Stand By You

Tomorrow

I’ve found love again!

I’ve put earnest money down on a condo in town. 

I’ve got a new job working from home and making a difference.

I’m healthy, happy and thankful -- Life’s good!

Then why am I anxious and a little bit sad?

     “You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”  -- Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV)

Ah, that’s it! Time to write, time to hear from God. For me, writing is a form of prayer, and it’s long overdue.

     “Peace I leave with you; my Peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” -- John 14:27 (NIV)

I feel like I’m on one of those flat escalator things at airports (moving sidewalks) with one foot on and one foot off. I move forward -- slowly, easily, smoothly, almost no effort at all -- and great things happen. But that stubborn heart of mine is holding onto yesterday, with one foot firmly planted on the non-moving part, bulky baggage still in hand. I continue towards my departure gate (or maybe it’s my arrival gate -- could it be both?), but the stretch is getting awkward and uncomfortable. I was never a gymnast, and this heavy straddling act can’t possibly end well.

But how do you move forward all the way? Why is it so hard to just let today be today and tomorrow be tomorrow, especially when today is really, really good? Why is it so hard to just be happy to be led by the Spirit?

As I think about this dilemma, “re” words come to mind. “Re” as a prefix means “again;” “back to an original place or condition” (English Language Learners Dictionary).

The resilient but wistful human part of my heart that lives in yesterday wants to…

Remain
Return
Re-do
Rewind
Replay
Remember

I love the house that Joe and I built. I love my neighbors. I Iove the hike behind our house along the creek, even when the sheep come in the Spring and the Fall and poop landmines all over the place. I love seeing the elk dotting Blacktail Mountain as I gaze across the shimmering lake with its fishermen, paddle boarders and boaters. I love lounging outside in the corner of the house, the warm sun blanketing me as I daydream. Lazy and daze-y, I love watching the clouds make their slow journey across the blue sky, content to go wherever the Wind takes them. I love thinking about Joe.

I’m grateful for a cherished past. I’m lucky, and I know that. The people and the places I’ll always love have shaped me into the person I am. Because of the past, the brave and joyful human part of my heart knows the Truth…

I can relinquish my life to God every day and go where He wants me to go.

My relationship with Him leads to renewal, which is the act of doing over again; the act of bringing something back to life.

I am re-born.

I realize my past is like the horizon. It’s brilliant and alluring, and the glow of it can warm and nourish me. But no one has ever been able to reach out and touch its boundary. That’s OK, because I love, and I am loved. Love’s radiance gives life. Love is never beyond reach, and it’s a place where everyone can stay.

With Love beside and inside me, I will leap with faith onto that moving walkway, hands free and heart open. Tomorrow’s only a day away, and it’s gonna be great.

     “Watch for the new thing I am going to do. It is happening already -- you can see it now! I will make a road through the wilderness and give you streams of water there.” -- Isaiah 43:19

     “Take delight in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart." -- Psalm 37:4

Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs
And the sorrow
'Til there's none! -- Tomorrow by Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin

Your Hand in Mine - Part 2

In my last Blog post, “Your Hand in Mine,” I wrote about feeling Joe’s hand in mine during my climb up Mount Kilimanjaro. This particular moment is one of the most profound and intimate experiences I’ve ever had, and it would be much easier to keep it to myself. But I think sometimes we’re supposed to share these extra special, extra cool God-things, because they do happen, and they are real. They are the God-inspired sparks igniting our lives again.

“’Go back home and tell what God has done for you.’ The man went through the town, telling what Jesus had done for him.” -- Luke 8:39 (GNT)

Ever since Joe died, I had been asking God for a stronger connection with Himself and with Joe. I kept waiting for something, anything. But I didn’t have any dreams, heard no music from Heaven, felt no mysterious presence -- NOTHING. I knew God was there, because He says He is, but I wanted more. I always want more -- my heart is never quite satisfied with what my head knows is enough.

And God, because He knows how I am and is OK with it (kind of like Joe was), knew what I needed. He already had it planned out in spectacular fashion as only He can do.

“IT” happened the day before Summit Day. Our hike before Summit Day was about a 5-hour trek. Coach Rob (affectionately known as the 8^th Wonder of the World for his energizer bunny-like qualities) had advised us to NOT TALK AT ALL while hiking this day so we could store up all the energy we could for Summit Day. WHAT?!?! No talking? Incessant chatter and laughing had fueled my friend Melanie's and my way up the mountain to that point, so not talking was taking a huge leap into the unknown. But we followed orders (mostly, shhhhh....)

So our team walked single file in companionable silence, only a few surreptitious whispers and muffled giggles along the way. The setting reminded me of Mars or the Moon, not that I’ve ever been to either place. But it was flat, sandy, rocky, cold, still -- kind of like grief. As the hours passed, I found myself thinking of nothing. I just walked. And walked and walked, watching Melanie’s hiking boots in front of me, stepping where she stepped. 

Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Joe’s hand was holding my right hand. He was with me, and his hand was in mine -- I’m sure of it. My right hand used to hold his left hand as we went to sleep. When he died, I couldn’t let go of his hand. It was still warm a long time after he died. I’ve never understood how that could be. I’ve desperately missed his hand in mine. But on that mountain, the day before Summit Day, in a splendidly full breath-taking silence, we were holding hands again. I cried.

Not 10 seconds later, Melanie, who was hiking in front of me, turns around with a look that I can only describe as awe, wonder and urgency mixed together. She grabs my hand and quietly says, “I feel like I’m supposed to tell you this right now. It can’t wait. I suddenly felt an unexpected breeze, and God told me that we’re walking through your sorrow.” She didn’t say anything else, and we walked together for a while, her hand in mine, both of us crying.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.” -- Psalm 23:4 (ESV)

“Be still and know that I AM GOD.” -- Psalm 46:10

In that moment, God gave me Himself, He gave me Joe, and He gave me myself. Barriers guarding my heart and mind disintegrated, replaced with a deep, real, everyday Hope that changed my life. I’ve always known about Hope, believed in Hope and even been the grateful recipient of Hope in very tangible ways. But on that day, Hope held my hand and wouldn’t let go, won’t let go. Hope gave me who (Who) I needed most, and my heart will be forever thankful. I know now that Hope is not bound by time or space or even death. Hope has no limits. And that’s pretty cool. Pao.

“God's Son was before all else, and by Him everything is held together.” -- Colossians 1:17 (CEV)

The "moonscape of grief" where we were hiking the day I felt Joe's hand in mine.

Dancing with our team after a long day of hiking.

Photo credit Gretchen Powers Film and Photo

“And when the night is cloudy, There is still a light that shines on me….” -- Let It Be, The Beatles

Your Hand in Mine

Hi Joe:

I know you know I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro -- you were there. I felt you, I felt God, and life has started to become whole again. I’m telling you things you already know, but I wanted to share anyway before I forgot.

Since you died, I’ve kept God at arm’s length, not really knowing why. I guess I was just too sad, too broken and too confused, and a half-hearted effort at letting Him be Him was all I could manage. But He pulled me closer in spite of myself, because He loves me, and He doesn’t let His kids stay distant forever.

“He will cover you with His feathers. He will shelter you with His wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.” -- Psalm 91:4 (NLT)

I want you to know my heart has begun to heal. You can see that, can't you? After you died, I kept asking God to give me a sign of you, of Himself -- something I could hold onto and tuck inside my heart, a good luck charm I could pull out and hold in my hand whenever the going got rough. I kept waiting, waiting, waiting and nothing. You and He have always been here, but far away like the horizon, and my prayers felt like they were being returned to sender.

BUT THEN KILIMANJARO.

God, in His mercy, led me to you and to Himself. All I had to do was go to Africa to find what I didn’t know I was looking for!

One foot in front of the other,
[1,2,3,4…inhale…1,2,3,4…exhale…1,2,3,4…inhale…1,2,3,4…exhale]
upwards I went.

“I look up toward the mountains.
    Where can I find help?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the maker of Heaven and earth.
He will not let you fall.
    Your Guardian will not fall asleep.” -- Psalm 121:1-3 (GW)

As the air thinned and my mind slowed, I began to understand. In the fullness of nothingness, things started to make sense. I felt your hand in mine. We weren’t touching, but your hand holding mine was palpable. Your hand and His Hand were one, reaching out to me, and I held on as you walked with me through my sorrow, as you pulled me up that mountain. I can’t fully process what happened yet, but I can say with certainty that He answers prayers in His own time and in His own way. And His answers are way cooler than any scenario I could have ever imagined. The crevasse that’s torn my heart apart is still there, will always be there, but something else is taking root and blooming, something equally as pure and beautiful as us. I realize the life I have now is not a consolation prize. Life’s good, choose joy, pao (cool).

“Now all glory to God, who is able, through His mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” -- Ephesians 3:20

I miss you. I miss us. I long for you to take care of me, to carry me. But God allowed me to see bits and pieces of you and of Himself through the team he chose for this trip. We’re all carrying some sort of burden -- life’s hard, we're human after all. But together, we lightened each other’s load. The profound simplicity of finding what was lost through the complexity and difficulty of what we accomplished together takes my breath away. I suspect we all discovered something that will change our lives forever. Mel, A.J., Gretchen, Alex, Rob (the 8^th wonder of the world), Evans, Amos, Daniel, Amos, Gadleson and our Tanzanian Team -- you guys will always have real estate in my heart. SEND IT!

“Help carry each other's burdens. In this way, you will follow Christ's teachings.” -- Galations 6:2 (GW)

On a lighter note, I realized I don’t really need a hairdryer. Wavy hair in all the wrong places can be covered up quite nicely with a baseball cap. And wearing tights in public is not necessarily a bad thing. No one cares about the ever-present muffin top but me. And I ate as much as I wanted and still lost weight -- we’ve always believed in miracles, right? But you always loved me just the way I am. Oh yeah -- and tinkling outside is liberating, especially when you’ve had 4 liters of water in one day. But you knew that too. It’s a guy thing.

You always wanted me to dance more. “I can’t dance,” I’d say. “I don’t like it.” You laughed with me as I did my own kind of joy-inspired pseudo-dance with our Tanzanian team as they sang the Kilimanjaro song. I learned to trust the intuition of a friend -- it’s changed my life. I found that my past, with all of its ups and downs, successes, failures and losses, can help my fellow team members find their own way. Pao (Cool).

I learned that really cool things happen when I force myself to unzip my sleeping bag and crawl out of my tent. I saw you smiling with me -- then, now and always.

I learned that as awesome as the summit is, I can’t stay there. My body can’t bear it. It’s too high, too much -- it's not home yet. And even though the descent was excruciating on knees weakened by 6 surgeries, I knew I had to go down, wanted to go down. God still has stuff for me to do. Plus, there was beer at the finish line. But I’ll never forget that view and the stillness I found in the windy, frozen air. Chilled to the bone, the flame in my heart grew hotter and brighter. I guess you knew that would happen too.

“Your Kingdom come, Your Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.” -- Matthew 6:10 (ESV)

I’m still sad about what happened to you, to me, to us. I don’t know why cancer was allowed to separate us. God didn’t choose to answer our prayers the way we wanted. But my spirit knows that His Plan overrides what we wanted and carries His divine purpose. And ultimately, Jesus is my Comforter, Protector, Healer, Friend, My All in All. I just have to let Him be Who He says He is and receive what He has to offer.

What I feared most happened; now I’m no longer afraid. And I know that putting one foot in front of the other allowed me to find you and God. Hand-in-hand, I can do this thing called life and make you and our Father proud. And when the summit calls me home for good, we’ll pick up where we left off.

Asante sana (thank you very much)
Nikupenda (I love you)
Angalia hivi karibuni (I’ll see you soon)

Photo credit Gretchen Powers and American300 Tours: Purple Heart Summits Kilimanjaro Team 2018

Thankful Times 33

I take Bella on a 20-30 minute walk every day before work -- at least on the days when I have my act together. The past week, in the spirit of the season, I started thanking God for stuff while on my walk. It started as a Top 10 type of thing, but once I got to 10, I easily thought of 10 more things. Then once I got to 20, I tried to get to 30. It was way easier than I thought it would be. Now I do 33 things, because of the Biblical significance of the number 33, since that is how old Jesus was when He was crucified. I Googled some more info on the number 33, and here are some interesting tid bits:

“The number 33 is connected to a promise or the promises of God.”

“The divine name of God, Elohim, is initially mentioned in the very first verse of Genesis 1. Elohim appears 33 times in Genesis' story of creation. Thirty-three is also the numeric equivalent of the word AMEN.”

“Thirty-three also is a numerical representation of the Star of David.”

“The significance of thirty-three is also seen at Jesus' death at the age of 33. His sacrifice, made in 30 A.D., was the fulfillment of countless prophecies and promises concerning the Savior of man.”

Anyway, you get the picture. You can make your own rules for the game. The rules don’t really matter. I just thank God for whatever pops into my heart and mind at that moment. Thinking about what I’m thankful for helps me cope with Joe not being here. So here’s today’s list. Some contain double or triple or even more things, but again, I make up my own rules!

1. I’m thankful I have the time and the Keurig for a 3-cup-of-coffee day. Maybe even four. I’m thankful for Cinnamon Dolce Starbuck’s coffee pods and for Coffee-mate Marshmallow Hot Cocoa creamer.
2. I’m thankful for the ugly but warm, but not too warm, camouflage print gloves I’m wearing on my walk. They warmed Joe’s hands too.
3. I’m thankful for Bella and her silly zoomies. The zoomies are when she all the sudden starts running full force for no reason, and then just as suddenly as she starts, she stops. It’s like she has a burst of “life is good!” energy, and she can’t contain herself. The zoomies make me laugh. May we all get the zoomies from time to time.
4. I’m thankful I can feel the cold wind on my face, smell the pine trees and hear the peaceful little stream on my walk with Bella every day.
5. I’m thankful for Joe, and I’m thankful for who he was and that he loved me for who I am. I’m thankful for what he taught me, and I’m thankful that through the power of Jesus Christ, I can choose to apply those lessons to my own life. I’m thankful I’ll see Joe in Heaven.
6. I’m thankful for Jesus, because He is who He says He is.
7. I’m thankful for my family and friends. (Sometimes I thank God for each person individually, sometimes as a whole. Depends on how quickly I want to get to 33! God doesn’t care, He knows who they are.)
8. I’m thankful for the house (and the home) that Joe and I built.
9. I’m thankful that God led me to Colorado, such a perfect fit. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
10. I’m thankful for how strangely comforting it is to have conversations with Bella -- and even to sing to her. I might even dance with her every so often. Shh, don't tell. I might be going crazy…..
11. I’m thankful for my job. It’s a little bit weird and a little bit wacky (in a profoundly good way), but so am I (the weird and wacky part - see #10).
12. I’m thankful for the devotionals I get every day by email that contain nuggets of Truth that make me think.
13. I’m thankful that I can play tennis, ski and hike in the same day. Colorado rocks!
14. I’m thankful for Advil (see #13).
15. I’m thankful for Reese’s and wine. I guess that counts as two. But maybe not, since it’s best when you have them together.
16. I’m thankful I had loving parents, a kind brother and for the advantages I had growing up.
17. I’m thankful for friends I’ve had since I was 5 years old and for friends I just met and for all the friends I don’t even know yet.
18. I’m thankful for the opportunity to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in late January. Yes, really!
19. I’m thankful for the $4 Walmart Poinsettia that adds Christmas cheer to my house.
20. I’m thankful for my hairdryer. Anyone that has seen my hair air-dried is thankful for my hairdryer too.
21. I’m thankful to have the finances to live comfortably.
22. I’m thankful for memories, even though they make me cry sometimes.
23. I’m thankful that God created me in His image. I can walk and talk, smile and cry, see, smell and hear, think and act.
24. I’m thankful that there is always sun in the middle of rain, and I’m thankful I can make the choice to see it.
25. I’m thankful for digital cameras.
26. I’m thankful for my neighbors.
27. I’m thankful for life.
28. I’m thankful for second chances.
29. I’m thankful for all the kind gestures friends and family have shown me over the past year. I have been blessed beyond measure with so much.
30. I’m thankful for weekends and for days when I don’t have to drive into town, but I love my car and am thankful for it to get me safely from Point A to Point B.
31. I’m thankful for Sirius satellite radio, because my drive into town is kinda long. And Bella's conversational skills are compromised because she is, after all, a dog.
32. I’m thankful that to Joe’s side of the family, I’m not an “in-law,” I’m family. The feeling is mutual.
33. I’m thankful for Wolferman’s English muffins and Land ‘o Lakes light butter, which means I can have twice as much butter.
34. BONUS! I’m thankful for the Christmas season. Joe isn’t here to decorate the tree while we listen to cheesy holiday music and drink eggnog with too much rum, and that makes me sad. But Christmas is about Jesus' gift of salvation and redemption. It’s about His sacrifice and His love. It’s about His birth and His re-birth for us. It's about Hope. And for that, I’m thankful.

E'en for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief;

Death cannot long divide.

For is it not as though the rose that climbed my garden wall

Has blossomed on the other side?

Death doth hide,

But not divide;

Thou art but on Christ's other side!

Thou art with Christ, and Christ with me;

In Christ united still are we. 

-- L.B. Cowman

I'm thankful for this song too!

"Heroes don't look like they used to,
They look like you do."

--Nothing More, Alternate Routes

Heaven and Earth

I don’t really have a lot to say today. But writing on this Blog makes me feel closer to God and to Joe and maybe even to myself, so here goes…

While I was doing some exercises on my Total Gym today (after having eaten about a pound of peanut butter fudge bars – the more things change, the more things remain the same), Pandora played U2’s “Walk On,” one of the songs that has pulled at my heart over the past five years while Joe was sick (and after).

“You're packing a suitcase for a place
None of us has been
A place that has to be believed
To be seen.” -- U2, Walk On

This line always makes me think of Joe in Heaven. I’m so happy he’s there, healed and whole, but I’m sad for me. I realize now that our life here was Heaven on earth, and I wish the two worlds were merged again. I think maybe they are, but I just don’t understand how yet.

“….What God has planned for people who love him is more than eyes have seen or ears have heard. It has never even entered our minds!” -- 1 Corinthians 2:9 (CEV)

“And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on.” -- U2, Walk On

I feel like God and Joe teamed up to play this song for me today. Thanks guys, I needed that. See you at the finish line.

“….We must run the race that lies ahead of us and never give up.”
-- Hebrews 12:1 (GOD'S WORD® Translation)

Joe at Inch Beach, Kerry, Ireland on September 14, 2015

God's Ultimate Reality Show

A few months before Joe died, I felt an increasing sense of urgency to figure out my purpose here on earth. Who am I? Why am I here? I read the Bible and books on spiritual gifts and purpose, prayed, contemplated, talked to other people. You name it, I did it -- I HAD to know all there was to know about this mysterious and elusive thing called purpose.

In hindsight, I realize that through the act of studying, God was equipping me with tools that would sustain me while Joe was dying. He also was preparing me for life without Joe. I think on some level, I knew this, so that’s why I kept reading, kept reading. It’s funny, I have a nightstand full of books right now, and I can’t bring myself to read a single one.

As far as purpose goes, I learned some life-changing truths. I believe God created all of us to know Him, and I believe that He is the Author of our purpose. The more we know Him, the more clarity we have on what His purpose is for us. We are the characters in His ultimate reality show. Gives a whole new meaning to Big Brother!

"I raised you up for this very purpose, that I might display my power in you and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth." -- Romans 9:17

The goal of the game of Life is to fulfill the purpose He has for us. We can go our own way, do our own thing, and sometimes, we find ourselves in a big, fat mess. But Jesus provides a Get Out of Jail Free card. He’s our ultimate mulligan. The coolest thing about this ultimate reality show is that all of us can be Survivors and crowned the Grand Champion. We won’t win a million dollars; instead, we win an all-expenses paid trip to Heaven, a one-way ticket Home.

“God invites [us] to participate in the greatest, largest, most diverse and most significant cause in history – His kingdom. History is His story. He’s building His family for eternity. Nothing matters more, and nothing will last as long.” -- Rick Warren, “A Purpose Driven Life,” page 296

God brought Joe and I together so we could help each other fulfill the respective purpose He had in mind for us. Our marriage enabled us both to re-discover parts of ourselves that had been asleep and encouraged new growth. I will be forever grateful for us.

Near the end of Joe’s life, God provided us with a day where time stood still (at least for a few hours). On November 9, it’s usually freezing and snowy, but God, in His mercy, gave us a sunny, warm day with a bluebird sky. We drove to one of our favorite places in the Flat Tops Wilderness, Bear Lake Campground. We knew this was the last time we’d be here together. With few words, we basked in the mountainous glory of where we were and where we’d been as the sunlight shimmered on the water like angels. “Joe, when you get to Heaven, will you ask God to let me know you’re OK?” I know now that I don’t really need a sign. My heart knows he’s better than OK.

Joe knew he had finished God’s work for him. He did want more time with me, and knowing that he wouldn’t get it devastated us both. But even facing his own death, Joe smiled through the pain. He even managed to eat part of his Pecan Sandie cookie, because he knew it would make me happy. I guess we both smiled. I forgot that I had smiled too.

Joe redeemed his ticket Home 41 hours later.

The lessons Joe taught me in his life and his death are integral pieces towards the purpose God has for me. I wish the story-line were different, but I’m not the Author of my own story. My prayer is that I honor both God and Joe with how I use this suffering in an effort to bring forth some good in the world.

One of the greatest truths I have discovered is that there is purpose in pain. And this gives me hope. It’s this hope that gives pain power. Hope overshadows death’s sorrow. It’s not game over, it’s a game changer. Sun in the middle of rain, right?

“[He has sent me] to provide for all those who grieve in Zion, to give them crowns instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of [tears of] grief, and clothes of praise instead of a spirit of weakness. They will be called Oaks of Righteousness, the Plantings of the LORD, so that he might display his glory.” -- Isaiah 61:3 (GOD’S WORD translation)

Photo: November 9, 2016 – Bear Lake Campground, Flat Tops Wilderness

“The best use of life is to spend it for something that outlasts it.” -- William James