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

Missing in Action

Joe died, and I went missing in action. 

It doesn't look like I'm gone -- I'm engaged in everyday life and actually enjoying it much of the time. But parts of my heart, soul and spirit were so hurt when Joe died, that they fled and haven’t come back. I didn’t expect them to suddenly re-appear alive and well nine months later, but will they ever come back? Or were these parts mortally wounded? I can’t even explain precisely what I’m missing, which is weird too for someone who constantly over-analyzes things until I figure them out. But this one's got me stumped.

What I do know is the person I love most in this world is gone. I feel like this love is adrift and doesn't know the way back home. Shattered bits of myself are floating around out there somewhere -- I feel like a puzzle with lots of missing pieces. Not quite sure who I am anymore -- I'm lost, I'm sad, I'm confused, I'm tired, I want Joe.  

This is the first time in my life that I've lived alone. Prior to college, I lived with my parents like most of us do, and afterwards, even the early years in Steamboat, I had roommates. Then Joe and I were together close to 20 years. As scary as things were when Joe was sick, we were together -- we were us. We were holding out for that miracle, we were supposed to grow old together. That's the way it works, right?

Now it's just me.

People ask how I am, and I honestly don’t know. “I’m fine…I’m good…you know….” What I really want to say is that I miss holding Joe's hand as we went to sleep. Or I can't move his toothbrush or razor from the bathroom sink. Or seeing his tool belt in the garage makes me want to weep uncontrollably.

God says that we were created in His image. "So God created human beings in His own image. In the image of God He created them; male and female he created them." -- Genesis 1:27

I think that our emotion of deep grief is one way that God gives us insight into Himself. I think He grieves every time He loses one of us. It makes Him sad when we don't try to get to know Him better. I think I heard Him tell me today that I haven't made much of an effort at getting to know Him. He’s got a point. 

But I've been kinda frustrated with Jesus for not swooping in and miraculously making me less broken. I realized today that He's not going to comfort me or take care of me in the same way that Joe did. Jesus is Divine, after all, and His ways are not our ways. But I do think the love Joe had for me is a likeness of what Jesus will do for me if I will let Him do it His way. He's a pretty creative guy, and I have to let go of my own expectations of how and when I should be fixed and let Him shape me as He will.

As I reflect on my life, I realize that God has been there every step of the way, even in the darkest of times. I’ll elaborate on that in another Blog post. He has provided me with everything I need to keep moving and to keep living this thing called life. I think He will re-create the part of me that’s missing or hurt beyond repair, so I can be the whole me again. I will never be the same, but that's God's Will and His purpose for me, so I guess I gotta roll with it.

“I am going to do something new. It is already happening. Don't you recognize it? I will clear a way in the desert. I will make rivers on dry land.” -- Isaiah 43:19

“You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand.” -- Oceans, Hillsong United

A Joe Day

Yesterday was a “Joe Day.” Joe Days always start out with well-meaning plans like cleaning the house, doing laundry, catching up on work, taking Bella on an all-day hike, paddleboarding, tennis -- A Ferris Bueller kind of day with some responsible adult stuff weaved in. But as the clock ticks, I never seem to get much done. It’s like I know I need a Joe Day, but I try to convince myself that I don’t. It’s much more productive to not need one, right? 

My Joe Days consist of a whole lot of nothing -- hanging pictures that are fine where they are in different locations; looking at the green blob where Bella threw up grass on the carpet -- I really need to do something about that -- I tried halfheartedly once…; nibbling on stale pretzels, they taste better with chocolate chips; I have a new grapefruit vodka drink I like, do I have to wait until 5pm to have one? and so on......Mostly, I think about Joe. I wonder when I'll heal and what that will look like, but my heart believes that I'll never heal from this, maybe I'm not supposed to. Maybe healing is just another word for learning how to live a different way.

I managed to put the pretzel and chocolate chip bags down long enough to go on a hike behind my house that leads to an overlook of the lake where I live. Joe and I hiked to this spot a lot, and I couldn’t resist looking for tidbits of Cutie (tangerine) peel that we might have dropped from hikes a year ago -- little Hansel and Gretel orange crumbs leading me back home to Joe. I didn’t find any, and I didn’t find Joe either. I sat on a log and cried. I cried for Joe, I cried for me, and I cried to Jesus to give me a sign.

If you’ve read my Blog before, you know that God speaks to me a lot through songs. So the Chicago song “I Don’t Want to Live Without Your Love” was playing on Sirius as I was eating dinner last night (surprisingly, pretzels and chocolate chips aren’t that filling). The song is quintessential 80’s with a cheese rating of 11 out of 10, and the video is even worse. I won’t share the video here, since this really isn’t a humor Blog, but the Chicago guitarist says of it: “How could that many people in positions of power make all the decisions that produced such a visual abomination?” he marvels. Calling the video a “heinous, hideous, humorless, horrific, horrendous, horror from hell.” Look it up if you’re brave enough -- it’s putrid.

Forgive the digression. The point is, for as cheesy as the song is, the words spoke to me.

“I don't want to live without your love,
I don't want to face the night alone.
I could never make it through my life
If I had to make it on my own.
I don't want to love nobody else,
I don't want to find somebody new.
I don't want to live without your love,
I just want to live my life with you.” -- Chicago, I Don’t Want To Live Without Your Love

The lyrics echoed what I’d been thinking all day. I miss Joe, and I want my old life back. I don’t want what I have now. I don’t want it, and I don’t like it. (Arms Crossed and Foot Stomp)

So a few hours after my hike and after begging Jesus for a sign, He talked to me through that silly song. After I heard the line “I don’t want to live without your love,” it hit me.

“Love never ends.” -- 1 Corinthians 13:8

Why didn’t this occur to me before? I don’t have to live without Joe’s love! The Bible says that “Love never ends,” and that’s the undeniable Truth. From the website www.gotquestions.org, “Because love is a basic attribute of God (1 John 4:8), and because God is eternal, love will also be eternal. Love will never fail.”

So somewhere in a zone without time and space, Joe’s love for me continues just as mine continues for him. Love lives forever and ever. It's always here, always, it never goes away. I’d like to believe that something is happening with that love, maybe it’s maturing and growing and blossoming in some way that I can’t understand on this side of eternity. But I do feel that the love that connects Joe and I is still very much alive and is still very much shared. And that makes my broken heart smile.

“Don’t give up, don’t give up
I feel you breaking;
Don’t give up, don’t give up,
We all need saving…” -- Ryan Star, Don’t Give Up

“I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” -- Romans 8:38–39

19 Hours

Hi Joe:

I went to Shoe and Stocking Friday night. My first solo camping trip ever. I guess it wasn’t really solo, since Bella was there. I also invited Jesus.

We got there around 7pm, and our favorite spots were already taken. So I pulled into a site where we’d never camped before. Feeling awkward around myself, I set up camp – what little set up there was, since we would be sleeping in the car. After exploring a bit (someone had made a homemade potty!), I ate a Chicken Marsala dinner with banana cake left over from work and sat there awhile as the sun set. The evening was windy and cool enough for sweatpants, and the moon was full and bright. I was quick to tell you when I saw the first star in the sky – I was always the first to see it, wasn’t I? And then I cried.

The night was pretty uneventful, and our blanket/sleeping bag mound in the car was quite comfortable. All was going well until I accidentally hit something and the car alarm started blaring at 5:30am. Time to get up! Luckily, it shut itself off a minute or so after waking up every man, woman and child in the vicinity. So much for the peace and quiet of camping!

We started hiking around 9am. On my way to the trailhead of the last hike we ever did together, I walked through one of our old campsites, the one where we had our bikes. My throat tightened, and I could barely breathe as the memories of our camping days played in my mind. I continued to the trailhead, sobbing and gasping for breath. Everything I saw reminded me of us, of you, of your not being there. The fallen tree we had to climb over was still there, and I think I found the stump you sat on 5 and ½ weeks before you died. The hike was unchanged, but everything was different. The movie of us kept playing over and over in my head – a movie I could keep hitting the pause and back buttons, but I could never again push play or fast forward. I was losing you all over again.

After that hike, Bella and I walked a couple of hours on the road where we’d driven past the old homestead. It was a hike you and I had never done, and I kinda liked it. I had planned to do our all-time favorite hike along Shoe and Stocking Creek - the one where we saw the elk and the turkeys and the coyotes playing in the field while we ate lunch. But I couldn’t. Maybe when I get to Heaven, we can do that one together.

One of my favorite things about camping was our après hike routine of taking our stinky boots off and remarking to each other how bad they smelled, lounging in our chairs with a cold beverage, talking about nothing in particular or not talking at all. Doing nothing with you was about as perfect as it got. Now, with my hiking done for the day, the empty silence was just plain empty. So I started this letter and hoped that somewhere you were thinking of me too.

In the middle of writing, I suddenly had the urge to pack up and go home. I had wanted to stay for two days, but the draw to leave was irresistible. Like I mentioned before, Jesus had come too. I’ve found that when I ask Him to join me, He’s always there in His own special way. I thought His being there would save me from being so desperately sad. It didn’t. I told Him my heart was too full of you, but He said my heart was big enough for both you and Him. I’m convinced He’s the One that told me to go home. He is all about mercy, you know. So 19 hours into my first solo camping trip, Jesus, Bella and I were homeward bound. Because we all know there’s no place like home.

“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” -- 1 Peter 5:10 (ESV)

Ice Cream, Tostitos and Jesus

Joe and I ordered a new couch from a furniture store in Denver about two weeks before he died. The night before it was to be delivered, we needed to move our old couch into the garage to make space for our new arrival. Our garage is a two-car garage, but one of us would have to park outside so the old couch would fit in there. I got in my car to move it outside (slightly put out, I might add -- it was quite chilly), when Joe yelled at me that he would park outside. I yelled back that I would park outside. He yelled back that he would park outside. We persisted back and forth for a minute or two, both crying, until Joe said softly, “You have to let me park outside.”

What our hearts realized at that moment was that the roles we had always played in our relationship were changing -- that our story together (at least here on earth) was reaching its final chapter. Both of us were sad and scared, and neither one of us could do anything about it.

I can’t remember who said it or if I read it somewhere recently, but the sign of a good marriage is one in which both people feel like they got the better end of the deal. I happen to know that I won the lottery with Joe; but for some reason, he always felt the same about me. We fulfilled each other’s greatest need. I was needy, and Joe needed to be needed. That night, I needed for Joe to park outside, and Joe needed me to need him to park outside.

I’ve been able to fill the needy hole a little bit by remembering the lessons Joe taught me, relying on family and friends who have been amazing and by even hiring professionals to help out here and there. I’m busy and fulfilled with a new job, a new church and with exercise class, tennis and hiking. But I can’t shake the loneliness. It’s always there, following me around like my shadow. It’s the knowing that when something good or funny or bad happens in my life, the person I love most isn’t here to listen and laugh about it. There’s no one who understands how funny it is when Bella runs around in circles in the field, and no one to share dinner with. I eat Oregon Hazelnut and Salted Caramel “really creamy” ice cream with mashed up Reese Cups (my personal touch) and handfuls of Tostitos for dinner, and don’t really even enjoy it (much). A couple of years ago, I read an article about a man who lost his wife to cancer. One of the things he said was that he had a lot of people to do something with, but he had no one to do nothing with. It’s this restless “by-myself-ness” that’s confusing and overwhelming and makes me tired.

Lonely, needy and tired. So now what?

It’s really quite simple. I think God backs us into a corner, because He wants us to realize that He is our only answer. He wants to be our Father, our Friend, our Healer, our Light, our Refuge, our All in All, our Everything. He is the only Person who can take care of me better than Joe. But I have to let Him, and it’s my choice to make.

Why is it so hard for me to let Him be Who He says He is? Can a spiritual relationship with our Creator be as real and as satisfying as a husband/wife relationship? What does a deep spiritual relationship with Christ look like? How can you have a best friend you can’t even see? I don’t pretend to know the answers to these questions. But I do know that He was there for both Joe and I when Joe was sick, and He’s been there for me in undeniable ways after Joe’s death. My head knows He won’t disappoint on a deeper level, but my heart just doesn’t know how to give in even though it wants to. I think it’s broken.

The most important thing I know is that Jesus died, rose again and defeated death so that I can live forever with Him in Heaven – with all of the folks I love! For this sacrifice, I owe Him my best efforts at getting to know Him for everything that He is. He’ll take care of the rest.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” --Jeremiah 29:13

I’ve posted this song before on Caringbridge or Facebook, because it reflects how I’ll always feel about Joe. I also do a weird thing with songs sometimes, where I turn them around to be Christian songs. The songwriter probably didn’t intend this in most cases, but I do it quite frequently. After all, Christ created everything, including music, so it makes sense that “A Better Place” could be considered my prayer to my Savior. A song for Joe and for Jesus - kind of a BOGO (buy one, get one free).

Oh – and who ended up parking outside? Joe, of course. It was cold, after all. Joe always kept me warm and safe -- he made my world a better place. God led Joe and I to each other (a match made in Heaven), so I trust that He will amaze me like He’s always done if I find the courage to give my heart fully to Him. And thank God, He has made this world and the next a better place for all of us.

“So I pour my heart into your hands
It's like you really understand
You love the way I am.” -- Rachel Platten, A Better Place

I'll See You in My Dreams

It’s been 4 months and 8 days since Joe died. Not that I’m counting…

Sadness and missing him colors every day and everything I do, but by the grace of God, my sorrow is not all-encompassing. Somehow, I still get up, I still eat (too much), I still work, I still laugh, I still play. Maybe not as much as I used to and with not as much conviction as before, but I do these things – and that gives me hope. Hope that maybe life will go from black and white to high definition again one day.

Every now and again during the past 4 years of our journey, I would “stumble” upon a video or article or some other something or someone that I knew God placed in my path for a reason. At the time, my head knew these were breadcrumbs from God, but my heart didn’t want them – I didn’t want to have to rely on them. So I tried not to think about them. But despite my best efforts, each snippet had been lodged in my heart, waiting to be retrieved when needed.

One of those snippets came from a video I watched on the Internet probably three years ago about a man whose wife died from cancer. He said that God didn’t choose to heal his wife; He chose to save her. I’ve never forgotten the wistful look on the man’s face and how sadly hopeful his words sounded. He knew that God had reasons of His own for not answering prayers the way we want. We don’t know what those reasons are, and we wish the story’s ending had been different. I wish I didn’t know how he feels.

I don’t know why Joe wasn’t healed. We prayed, we begged, we did all the things we thought God told us to do. I’m confused, hurt and so desperately sad that it’s hard to catch my breath. I wish that Joe dying from cancer hadn't been God’s will. Why does His will have to be so hard and so unfair? Shouldn’t life be about what I want? It's all about me, right? (Ok, don’t answer those questions…)

When I get hung up on what I wanted, it helps me to think about Jesus. Talk about unfair. He did everything right, and He could easily have saved Himself from the horror of His death on the Cross. And the shame that preceded His death. He begged His Father to change His mind. “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want Your will to be done, not mine.” -- Luke 22:42

If even Jesus struggled with God’s will, I guess I’m not so weird after all. And, as we all know, Jesus chose to fulfill God’s will to save us. We are His joy – we always will be. I thank God that Jesus chose us rather than what would have been easiest for Him.

"We must never stop looking to Jesus. He is the leader of our faith, and He is the one who makes our faith complete. He suffered death on a cross. But He accepted the shame of the cross as if it were nothing because of the joy He could see waiting for him. And now He is sitting at the right side of God’s throne." -- Hebrews 12:2 (CEV)

Like that man in the video’s wife, Jesus didn’t choose to heal Joe, but He did save him. Forever in Heaven is a long time, and knowing that I'll see him there brings me peace. Can anything be more important? Can anything be more hopeful? Four years of life with cancer saved us both, to be honest. It’s strange how God uses exactly what we fear most to bring us to Himself. 

I’m trying to accept that God’s will was not what I wanted and to be the person He created me to be, because just maybe it's not all about me. Moving past myself to move forward is the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. But I realize it’s my choice to make, and He will drop breadcrumbs whenever I start to lose my way.

I’m not exactly sure what Joe is doing right now, but I kinda believe he prays for me -- probably all the time, because he knows how needy I am. I also believe when he's not praying for me, he's using his carpentry skills. Or maybe he can pray for me and work at the same time, because I bet folks can multi-task pretty easily in Heaven. At any rate, Jesus says that He is building many mansions for us. Joe built our home in Colorado, so it stands to reason that he’s working on our home in Heaven.

“In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” -- John 14:2

My nephew introduced me a few weeks ago to Amazon Prime movies and helped me install the app on my Smart TV. Hundreds of “free” movies at the click of a remote control button. Who knew? So I watched a movie last night called “I’ll See You in my Dreams.” It made me think of Joe (everything does), and I wished that I had dreams about Joe. I think I will, but I must not be ready. Anyway, I loved the theme song of the movie. Hope you do too.

Here We Go

"Honor Christ and let Him be the Lord of your life. Always be ready to give an answer when someone asks you about your hope."
    --1 Peter 3:15 (CEV)

I have created this Blog in memory of my husband, Joe Tully. You always hear that keeping a journal during times of crisis helps you process things. This was true for me with CaringBridge posts I wrote when Joe was sick. For whatever reason, typing out my thoughts and feelings was a release of sorts. I figure if writing helped then, maybe I should continue the exercise as I struggle through the other side of losing Joe.

So my goals with this Blog are two-fold - partially selfish, partially altruistic. My hope is that my words not only help me process my own life, but that they also will help you somehow, some way when life doesn't work out how you hoped.

I have no idea what will "come out," how, when, why or for how long. But if you're willing to go on this journey with me, I'd love to have your company. The door's open.

This is a way I can make our Lord proud, and a way for me to honor Joe's memory. So here goes.....

"And we all know that the sun will shine;
I must go and chase this dream of mine.
And I know I can do you proud
When I'm high above those clouds."
    --Wars, The Strumbellas

You Hold My Heart in Your Hands

JOE TULLY

November 11, 1955 - November 11, 2016

Since I created this Blog in memory of my husband, Joe, I figured I'd tell you a little more about the man who made my life richer than I ever thought possible. I thank God every day for the gift of my husband. Joe, you will always be my sun in the middle of rain.

This quote is from the movie Shadowlands, which is about the life of Christian writer C.S. Lewis. The quote is adapted from his final words to his dying wife Joy:

"Not much more to say. I love you, Joe. I love you so much. You’ve made me so happy. I didn’t know I could be so happy. You’re the truest person I’ve ever known. Sweet Jesus, be with my beloved husband, Joe. Forgive me if I love him too much. Have mercy in us both." 

You Hold My Heart in Your Hands

My sweet Joe:

I don’t even know how to begin. There’s so much to say; but thankfully, nothing was unsaid. The bottomless ache of missing you is more than I can bear. But the wave of love created by the people who love us most is gently nudging me forward. And since you and I are joined by the same Holy Spirit, I hear your whisper deep inside me.

Oh, how I love you, and oh, how I love the life we had together. I asked if you were mad, and you said “No.” I know you were sad more for us than for yourself. That’s what love is, right?

For me, the past four years have been an excruciating dance between hope and despair, life and death. But you’ve always accepted life’s hardest challenges without fighting, complaint or pity. Choose joy, right? You accepted the path God chose for you. Right after one of the worst reports we could have gotten, you shrugged and said, “What’s for dinner?” As usual, I replied, “I don’t know.”

You loved ice fishing. Personally, I think you enjoyed the beer (Smithicks over Guinness) more than the fishing. And you recently discovered emoji’s. I cherish the “I love you’s” accompanied by a string of eight perfectly-selected images. You never lost that childlike sense of curiosity and wonder. It could drive me nuts; but then again, isn’t that what it’s all about?

You loved your plants and birds, your riding lawn mower, golf, camping, hiking – everything outdoors. And putzing around the house. And your dog Bella. She’s still YOUR dog. And scratch tickets. We can’t forget the scratch tickets. We wondered how we would pay for our wedding, and you won $5000 two weeks before we were married. So I guess scratch tickets aren’t so bad.

You loved your work and your friends. But clear, concise articulation of your thoughts and feelings was not one of your gifts. Your friend Todd told me that he and Mike were the only two people on earth who knew how to “speak Joe.”

You lived simply, uncluttered, slow. What you see is what you get. You never worked at becoming someone - you just were who you were. You saw the flowers while I was heedlessly stepping on them. You were content to be in the background, and you were fully present. You breathed deeply, laughed large and let life carry you.

You hugged too hard. Literally. Sometimes it felt like being squeezed by a boa constrictor. But I realize isn’t this how it should be?

You loved your family with all of your great, big, uncomplicated heart. You will always be Uncle Joey with the never-ending supply of doughnuts.

You told me that you’ve always muted your big, baritone voice, and that you knew in Heaven, you could really belt it out. I can imagine the angels with their hands over their ears. If I’m still enough, I hear you too. I only wish I needed to put my hands over my ears.

You were born again on your birthday. Your life came full circle. I take enormous comfort in knowing that you accomplished what God sent you here to do. You never had to look for your purpose; you were always in it without even trying. I believe this was God’s greatest gift to you – and to me. You were taken from me too soon, but your Father was ready for you. Well done, Joe - kudos.

You loved taking care of me. You told me I held your heart in my hands. You are my sun in the middle of rain. You taught me how to see and to live the sun in the middle of rain. I’ll honor your precious and brilliant life by opening my heart bravely and without struggle to the sun in the middle of rain. Maybe one day, I’ll learn how to speak Joe.

     ---Meg Tully, November 14, 2016