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