48 Hours!

Life circumstances certainly change us. For 25 years I shared life with someone. We went through wonderful times and dark ones. We supported each other through health and sickness. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t tell him or share with him and then our lives were forever changed in an instant. I preface my recounting of the events of the past 48 hours with this information because I believe it will shed light on my actions.

This weekend I found a lump on my breast. Now, I am usually a quick-to-react person, but for some reason I didn’t wish to borrow trouble and made an appointment with my doctor for Monday afternoon. I chose NOT to share this information with anyone except a close friend (who happens to have a nursing background) and my mother (because I needed some family medical history).

Following my visit with Dr. Walton a mammogram and ultrasound was ordered for first thing Tuesday morning. At the time, I was unsure if this was because she knew I was anxious or because she had serious health concerns. It is interesting the thoughts that went through my mind during this personal crisis.

That evening I mentally put my life in order. I knew my will was incomplete and needed to be filed. I even thought through how I would want to handle a crisis if, in fact, I heard the “c” word the next day. What surprised me was how pragmatic I became. My life became a laundry list of “things to do”. When it came down to it, my biggest concern was with my children. I never once shed a tear.

I spent the better part of the evening in a prayer-like state. I scoured scripture that might provide strength. John 14:1 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. I had that---peace, yet I still didn’t want to burden anyone else until I knew for sure what was going on. At first this seemed a selfless act, as I found later, that was not the case.

Following the tests on Tuesday morning, I went home and waited. It was storming outside – appropriate, I thought. Several hours later the physician’s assistant called with the outcome of the tests.

“The results are negative. There is no mass; it is most likely an enlarged lymph node.” I heard her say with a confidence that calmed me.

“Could you repeat that,” I replied and she obliged. As I hung up the phone, a great sense of relief engulfed me—then the tears started. Why now? I thought.

Now, I was able to share with friends and family the happenings of the past 48 hours. They were not exactly elated that I had not told them. One friend even said that I had robbed her of the opportunity to support me. How fortunate I am to have such love in my life.

I lived a lifetime these past 48 hours. I learned that I could face life situations alone (though I am never totally alone) and still derive strength from my faith. I learned that though I can go through crisis alone, there is no need to. God has placed a wonderful, support system in my life for a reason. I learned a great deal about myself and my ability to find peace in the midst of a pending storm.

48 hours can change your life—just ask me. It can also define it.

This I know for sure.

The Search is On!

I am an avid reader. I enjoy every aspect of reading and especially enjoy the way what I read affects what and how I write. I pride myself on viewing the world through a writer’s eye—not that I am an accomplished writer, but I have this egocentric need for validation in this area. This fact was significant in my decision to begin to blog.

Though I enjoy the process of writing, I have come to the realization this practice of blogging has NOTHING to do with good writing and everything to do with searching for some meaning to what has happened in my life. With every stroke of the keyboard I find a new piece to the puzzle.

Words appear to have a universal connection. You see, pain is not exclusive to young widows. Working through life’s heartache is not limited to those who have lost a spouse.

So as I search for meaning through writing this blog, I drag the lot of you around with me. We climb to the heights of enlightenment and plunge to the depths of despair – collectively. I may not even know you, but we share the same journey to find meaning to the life we lead.

This I know for sure.

When I Don't Know for Sure!

So how long can one keep up the charade of having it all together? How long can one pretend to know things for sure? Because tonight----I don’t know much. I have little together and life seem to be in several stages of disarray. I am pulled in more directions than Gumby. Overwhelmed would be a gross understatement of how I feel as I sit here at my computer. It is in these times when I cry out---where I am the most vulnerable.

Sometimes I cry out and all I hear---is silence. Sometimes I cry out and I have unbelievable support---that I am unable to acknowledge and sometimes I cry out and find the hand of the Father where it has been all along – steadying my walk caressing my face and calming my spirit.

That “hand” can come in many forms. It can be a song, a poem, a phone call even a thought. It can be a friend stopping by on her way for a walk or an earthy father calling simply to say that he loves you. In order to experience the “hand of the Father” you must reach for it and embrace it. Action is required on your part.

I don’t know who Willerd A. Petterson is. I have actually never heard of him, but a fellow widower posted this beautiful poem on a website tonight and it became the “hand of the Father” in my life.

Slow Me Down, Lord

Slow me down, Lord

Ease the pounding of my heart

by the quieting of my mind.

Steady my hurried pace with a vision

of the eternal reach of time.

Give me, amid the confusion of the day,

the calmness of the everlasting hills.

Break the tensions of my nerves

and muscles with the soothing;

music of the singing streams

that live in my memory.

Help me to know the magical,

restoring power of sleep.

Teach me the art of taking

minute vacations---

of slowing down to look at a flower,

to chat with a friend,

to pat a dog,

to read a few lines from a good book.

Slow me down, Lord,

and inspire me to send my roots deep

into the soil of life's enduring values

that I may grow toward the stars

of my greater destiny.

At a moment in time when there is little I know for sure, the one thing I DO know is that the hand of the Father waits to be clasped within mine.

This I know for sure.

Dateline----MY LIFE!!

I just watched Dateline and the special “Football Wives” (see: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032600/ ) Now, I am not usually condescending or even sarcastic (ok, I am sarcastic but…), PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK. As I watched these women with their husbands, I found myself yelling at the television and thinking “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???” I know I come at this topic from a totally different viewpoint, but let me put things into perspective for you. LADIES, IS YOUR HUSBAND BREATHING IN AND OUT---IS HE LIEING IN BED WITH YOU IN THE EVENING???? THEN PLEASE STOP YOUR SNIVILING ABOUT A STINKING BALLGAME AND GROW UP!!!!

Now granted, I never had a husband who was so into sports that he had a room dedicated to the Fighting Illini---HOWEVER, I did have a husband, who like many in this report, worked hard during the week and was a fabulous father and husband, but when the Illini came on, he was lost in the moment. OK---for 2 to 3 hours a week he was unavailable to me---SO WHAT????

I found these women to be---well---whimpy. I would venture to guess, if the truth were told; these men, for the most part, take care of the kids while the wife ventures to the latest Talbot’s sale or Ann Taylor Loft promotion. These wives should be thanking their lucky stars that they #1 have husbands at all and #2 have husbands who OBVIOUSLY love and adore them. Have these ungrateful women give me a call. I am sure that within a few minutes I can put things into perspective for them. Do I sound a bit bitter---well of course I do, I would give my right arm to have my husband sitting in my living room—cheering on his sports team and paying little attention to me—knowing that within a few hours he would be sharing life with me again.

I guess my point is that LIVE IS SHORT. Make sure what you think is important---really is….

This I know for sure..

Flowers on His Grave....and Healing

Wednesday of this week was incredibly busy for me. It is on these days I tend to add tasks to my “to do list” because I just work better under pressure. I know it sounds crazy, but I become more focused and I seem to accomplish more. So, after school, along with the five other errands I needed to complete, I went to the cemetery to replace the flowers on Don’s grave. I drove up to his stone, got out of the car, glanced at my father-in-law’s monument (who died less than a year after Don), I said a prayer then grabbed the flower containers from both stones to take to the florist to be refilled. When I arrived at the florist, I told the designer what I wanted in each container. It was as if I were picking out a new centerpiece for my dining room table. I was very “matter of fact” - devoid of much emotion; yet, I seemed compelled to complete the task perfectly.

When I got back in my car, I realized that I had just accomplished an undertaking that a few months ago was so emotionally ridden that I was unable to drive out of the parking lot for 20 minutes until I finished weeping. It was in that moment I realized I was experiencing healing. I actually smiled on the inside on my way home, knowing that Don would be very proud of the progress I have made. He would love the fact that I have been able to move to a new home, keep my church commitments, be a mother to the boys, maintain a semblance of dignity and begin to live again. He would be proud that the boys are excelling in their pursuits and that they are content and even happy.

Next week, I will go pick up the finished arrangements and take them back to adorn the monument marking the life of a great man. The actual physical stone deserves to be maintained in his honor, but the stone in the cemetery is not my husband’s legacy. The heritage of love and integrity he left for his family is a more appropriate monument to Don's life.

This I know for sure.

The Real Me!

Ever look into the mirror and wonder whom the stranger is staring back at you? Usually this is after a major life event or traumatic experience. Life seems to create in us this quandary as to who we are and what our purpose should become.

I have always been an independent, stable woman with a career I love and a zest for life and living. However, when I look in the mirror I no longer see that woman. Oh I get glimpses of her here and there, but the general essence of who I was is veiled. It isn’t that I am a totally different person; it is that those aspects of who I am, which I found familiar, seem absent. I find this disheartening, or should I?

Just because the person staring back at me in the mirror is unfamiliar, doesn’t mean she is unwelcome. It simply means I need to become comfortable with her again. I need to explore what makes her tick—how she lives, makes decisions---how she loves and how she takes on life.

We evolve and change constantly. Life events and circumstances influence this change. I am not the same person I was before I was a mother. That experience molded me. I am not the same person I was before I experienced great loss, that event has shaped who I have become.

As I work through this process of re-acquaintance, I am not sure if I become more content with who I am or if it is that I begin to understand myself better and thus begin to accept and even become fond of this “new me”. I believe it becomes a choice.

I refuse to lose my sense of self. I refuse to allow this unfamiliarity to create within me insecurities that are cause for rash decisions or a sense of uncertainty. On the contrary, I embrace this new person and realize she is a collection of her experiences both past and present and is being fashioned to move forward into the “chapter two” of her life with a newfound appreciation for the outcome of life’s experiences.

This I know for sure…..mostly!

Snow Day and a Confession!

I may be telling stories out of the “teacher’s lounge”, but it is a little known fact that teachers love snow days as much as, perhaps more than, the students. It is the one time I sit, eyes glued to the bottom of the television screen hoping to see my school name scroll across. When it finally does, I find myself doing one big happy dance (on the inside of course as to not scare the children). I grab the phone; make the call to the next teacher on the phone tree, grinning at the giddy sounds on the other end of the phone. I feel like the florists delivery boy on Valentine’s Day.

I always have great plans for the snow day. I am determined to clean out the study, get my tax information together, launder the sheets on all the beds, work on the storage room and….well, you get the idea. I make lists and have the best intentions.

Then, I sit at the computer to “quickly” check my email. As I look over at the nearby comfortable couch, I eye the remote control which seems to call to me. I hear it say, “What about all those television shows you have TIVO’d and what about the Lifetime movies you never get to watch? Are you sure you want to be productive today. I have much more fun things planned for us.” So, my determination disappears and I grasp the remote control sternly in my hand, sit myself on the couch and---I am not sure where time goes from there.

The next thing I know it is 3:30—the regular time I get home from work. That is a benchmark time for me. There is certain melancholy when I discover it is already 3:30 and I haven’t accomplished---ANYTHING. Wait one minute; I HAVE completed five Sudoku puzzles, read five magazines and watched hours of meaningless television.

What have I gained? Perhaps nothing except that I have REGAINED my sense of wasting time, an art many “grown ups” have abdicated to their teenagers. I have come to the realization that I am capable of frittering away time and have absolutely nothing worthwhile to show for it. I will admit, I am proud of myself. There are not many adults who can boldly stand and say “I wasted a whole, entire day”. There you have it - my confession. They say it is good for the soul.

This I know for sure.

Joy from Sorrow

I know you might get tired of me bringing up Henri Nouwen, but I simply can't believe how much his words resonate to where I am on a daily basis. I receive his Daily Meditations and they are always inspirational or cause me to think or, well, both. If you are interested you can also sign up to receive them: http://www.henrinouwen.org/home/free_eletters/?m=1011221485028&p=oi They are taciturn (Rosanne will appreciate that-since she is the queen of verbosity) for those of us with a bit of an attention problem (like my entire family and most of my friends—LOL).

I was in the middle of composing a blog about the close relationship between joy and sorrow. The basic premise was that in order to experience true joy, you would have to also understand sorrow. I remembered that this topic was addressed in an early January Daily Meditation and sure enough---I found it. Nothing I have ever written has come close to explaining my feelings on this topic than the words from Henri Nauwen as follows:

“Joy and sorrow are never separated. When our hearts rejoice at a spectacular view, we may miss our friends who cannot see it, and when we are overwhelmed with grief, we may discover what true friendship is all about. Joy is hidden in sorrow and sorrow in joy. If we try to avoid sorrow at all costs, we may never taste joy, and if we are suspicious of ecstasy, agony can never reach us either. Joy and sorrow are the parents of our spiritual growth.” –Henri Nouwen-

Now, do I long to feel sorrow so I can also experience joy? NO! of course not, but I do acknowledge the connection. It is said that love is the universal language, but I am not sure that is the case. Unfortunately, there are people who may never experience true, undying love in their lifetime, but everyone will experience sorrow and pain. Perhaps these emotions are more universal then we would like to admit. The other side of this coin is that, the greater your capacity to feel the pain and work through it, the greater your capacity to absolutely experience joy. Though pain is not something I desire to experience, I concede that through sorrow I have the ability to recognize and experience joy more completely for I have endured the opposite.

This I know for sure…

Brush With Greatness!!

I have been a member and contributor on the Young Widow Bulletin Board since a few months after Don passed away. It has been a lifeline, as well as an opportunity to communicate with and meet other widows and widowers who share the same journey. It is through this venue I have met and developed friendships with some amazing individuals. Recently, a member of the bulletin board contacted me regarding a thread to which I had contributed. One that she found particularly interesting. Seems she is writing an article for a well-known weekly publication on the topic and wanted to interview me for the article.

Along with the email, she sent a link to her web site to authenticate her interest.
( http://www.jackiemitchard.com/index2.htm ). With a click of my mouse, her web site came up and I immediately recognized her, Jacquelyn Mitchard, author of Deep End of the Ocean, Oprah’s first “Book Club Book”. I was excited and a bit timid (I know, hard to believe) that this famous author would be interested in anything I had to say. Jacquelyn and I began communicating via email a couple times a day for several weeks. We’d share tidbits about family, “the widow experience”, and life in general. We often would send one or two line blurbs, but at other times it would take paragraphs to express our thoughts. I have to say that I felt a connection with her right away.

Last week I received an email from Jackie stating that she was going to be in Bloomington with her son (he was auditioning for musical theatre at Illinois Wesleyan) and wanted to know if we could get together for lunch. I couldn’t have been more excited to meet someone. Not only to bask in her literary knowledge, but also to meet, in person, this new friend I had made. I anxiously responded that I would love to meet with her whenever she was available.

While sitting in Biaggi’s with a very special friend awaiting Jackie’s entrance, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t even nervous—excited, but not nervous. When she walked into the restaurant her presence was sensed in the room—she had a strong, confident persona. I gave her a hug and she sat down. I introduced her to my friend, and we began to talk right away. It was a comfortable exchange. We spoke freely about our history and life story. She was a widow at a young age, so conversation logically turned in that direction. There we sat, the three of us with this shared experience of loss and an instant bond was created. It still amazes me how collective life experiences create immediate friendships.

We listened as Jackie shared her life journey from widowhood to remarriage; how she had survived as a single parent and successfully blended and created her current family (seven children—wow!!). She was honest about the difficulties, struggles and ultimate triumphs of creating her “chapter two”.

We discussed her life as a writer. I was interested in how she researched books, how long it took to write, and in her writing processes. Jackie shared the plot of her next book due out this summer and of the young adult book to be released at the end of this month. She brought copies of her new book, Cage of Stars and a copy of Deep End of the Ocean, to autograph for me. They will be books I will treasure. As we sat enjoying each other's company, it seemed like we were simply old friends meeting to “catch up”.

Jackie spoke of the cheerleader competition that was being held at the college where her son was auditioning. She told of the girls sitting in the front of the building speaking, as teenagers do—about whatever it is teenagers converse about. As she relayed the girls’ conversation to us, it was as if we were listening to them ourselves. It is this writer’s eye that makes Jacquelyn’s writing resonate. She sees the world through the eyes of a writer. Conversations and life activities surround us on a daily basis. We pay little attention to them, yet to a writer each incident is significant---an opportunity for expression. I made a mental note to share this with my students.

Was this a chance connection with a famous author? I don’t think so. I do believe Jacquelyn Mitchard was one of those brought into my life to dance with me (see blog entry: http://mfisteach.blogspot.com/2006/08/lord-of-dance.html ) and I with her; partners on a journey of shared experiences, yet living diverse lives. I am thankful for those who continually are symbols of hope; those who exemplify that through pain, joy can be found—Jacquelyn Mitchard is one such beacon.

This I know for sure.

What Defines Me?

I am so different than I was even 10 years ago. I am not the reactionary—I don’t jump to conclusions (as much)—I also lack a bit of the passion those traits encompass, but have gained a sense of discernment. Different qualities define who I am now. I have grown and hopefully learned.

What defines me?

I am first and foremost a mother.
My children define me—
not by what they do, but when they think for themselves, come into their faith or simply say “I love you mom”.

I am a daughter.
Family defines me--
not necessarily by birth, but by the heritage I embrace with such pride.

I am a friend.
My friendships define me—
not because they chose to share life with me, but because the character they exude reflects my uncanny ability to surround myself with exceptional friends.

I am an educator.
My students define me—
not by getting good grades, but by thinking outside the box, creating a beautiful piece of writing or simply being better members of our community.

I am a Christian.
My faith defines me—
not because of what tenants of my religion dictate, but the day in and day out walk which causes this world to hold the hope I long for

I am a widow.
Loss has defined me--
not because of mourning, but because of the strength gained, the capacity to empathize and the assurance that there is more.

I am a woman.
Life defines me—
not because I live it perfectly, but because I long to live it fearlessly.

This I know for sure.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

Throughout the course of my life I have sat through more church sermons than most would deem healthy. My father is a minister, both grandfathers were ministers, my uncle is a minister, my brother is a minister and at the same time I lived in a parsonage for 19 years influenced by a multitude of evangelists and missionaries. The fact that I don’t walk around expounding the three-point sermon should be amazing to most.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember many of the sermons I heard growing up---granted I might have been passing notes to my best friend or the cute boy behind me in the pew during that portion of the service, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't remember many sermons. One thing I do remember is eating Sunday dinner at my best friend’s house and sitting through some wonderful discussions following the morning message. My best friend’s father was a man of few words. I don’t remember hearing him talk all that much, but he always had great dialogue about the sermon. I am NOT talking about “pastor stew” where you pick apart a sermon or what the pastor was wearing. I am talking about truly intellectual discussions of Biblical truths and their application, or discourse extending the main points of the message. These were times I loved to simply sit and listen.

We do have a tendency to hear what we want to hear while sitting in a church pew and often skew scripture to fit our circumstances. To quote my brother, Evan, “I think we have to always be careful not to apply Scripture to our lives, but to apply our lives to Scripture.” I hope that is what I am doing with this post. I wish to clarify the way my life applies to a particular passage of scripture.

I was sitting in my home church this past Sunday listening to another great sermon. My pastor’s text was from the Beatitudes, particularly Matthew 5:4, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted”. The sermon pointed to the fact that most likely this passage was referring to the repentant or those who grieve for other sin’s, but not necessarily for those of us who mourn the loss of a loved one—because what is there to be blessed about? There was even a video of a couple who lost a child to SIDS. The video ended with the couple explaining how they blamed God for their loss. That was it—video over.

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that I don’t agree with my pastor’s interpretation of this scripture because I most certainly do, but with strong conviction I additionally believe this scripture DOES speak volumes to those of us who have lost a loved one. The Beatitudes speak to injustice---loss is unjust plain and simple. It is a scripture of hope for those who grieve.

I am sure it is difficult to look at those of us who have lost a great deal in earthly terms and consider us to be “blessed”. If we are to discount this fact then how is God honored through our suffering? Where is the evidence of His work if we, in fact, continue to play the “blame game” with God and not embrace the fact that we live in a world where death is inevitable and loss is equally unavoidable? How much more then should we embrace the blessedness of our plight and be willing to find our solace within the circumstance? What about Isaiah 61:1-3 especially verse 3 where we are assured “beauty..for ashes..gladness instead of mourning”, or my very favorite Psalm 30:11 “You turned my mourning into dancing”? Instead of allowing these times to break our spirit and steal our faith these times of great loss become one of life’s defining moments. It is one of the only times we can completely know that God is, beyond doubt, all we need.

I have not come to this realization overnight. It has, and will continue to be, a process. Strength is found in the realization that God is greater than our circumstances—he does transcend our condition to create within us a “blessed” state. So, do I believe “blessed are those who mourn”? You bet I do.

This I know for sure.

Most Favored 2006

Following family tradition (http://www.evanandjulia.blogspot.com) I find it necessary to create Marsha’s Most Favored Awards 2006—not that anyone really cares what I think, but it gives me a place to chronicle a year’s worth of favorites.

Favorite Movie – Little Miss Sunshine
This may just be the place I am in, but I laughed hysterically at this movie. I might have been the only one in the theatre doing so, but I totally enjoyed this movie. The acting was phenomenal. My favorite quote in the movie…
Richard: Sarcasm is the refuge of losers.
Frank: [Sarcastically] really?
Richard: Sarcasm is losers trying to bring winners down to their level.
Frank: [Sarcastically] Thank you for opening my eyes to what a loser I am!

Books: This was the year of nonfiction reading for me.

Favorite Literary Work of 2006: The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
I will have to admit that the number of grief books I have read in the past year would number in the---well, lots. However, this book is written by an award winning author who simply has a love affair with words and though I didn’t always find her experience the same as mine, I found the essence of the writing to be extremely familiar.

Best Book Read in 2006 not published in 2006: Turn My Mourning into Dancing – Finding Hope in Hard Times by Henri Nouwen
Whatever “hard times” your life may bring; Nouwen, in his infinite wisdom and gift of prose, speaks to the very heart of learning to heal and find hope. My favorite quote from this book: “To heal is to let the Holy Spirit call me to dance, to believe again, even amid my pain God will orchestrate and guide my life.” WOW~

Most Surprising Book that I Enjoyed—Even Loved: The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama
I am neither a Democrat, nor a liberal-though have been accused of being a closet liberal; however, this book was surprisingly well written and more thought-provoking than I expected. When it was chosen by my bookclub to read, I was less than excited. I couldn't have been more surprised. Obama sure does have his thumb on the pulse of America and the reforms needed to move us from the place in which we reside to one of hope. If you don’t want to be challenged to think—don’t read this one.

Television: On to the more intellectual aspects of things favored:

Best Television All-Around: Boston Legal
This show is a spin-off of another all-time favorite of mine, The Practice. Boston Legal is like watching The Practice on steroids. Though he doesn’t know it yet, I am going to marry James Spader (Alan Shore character) I find his intellect and wit to be tremendously attractive. LOL! William Shatner (Denny Crane character) is the epitome of politically incorrect in a tremendously correct way. Best quote from the show:
Denny Crane: Now, Alan, if all else fails and you think you've lost... pretend you've won! Works for our president.
What a hoot!

Biggest Surprise on Television: Heroes
Though I have never been a comic fan or even taken with the fantasy genre, this show captivates me. I find the characters engaging and the storylines refreshing original. Besides all of that—it is just plain fun.

Music: This one is tough. If you looked at my ipod playlist you would sign me up as a true music schizophrenic. Music is one of the most vital gifts in my life. I will give it a whirl as to what I have enjoyed this year.

Best Album All-Around: Wherever You Are: Third Day
I know this choice comes from the place I am in my life. The songs on this album have been my constant companion the past year. I am especially connected to the songs The Sun is Shining and Love Heals Your Heart, but the message of hope from pain in the lyrics on this album have been a cornerstone to my personal healing.

Others that deserve mention:
The Frey: How to Save a Life- Grey’s Anatomy has done wonders for this band.
Chris Daughtry: Daughtry- post-American Idol—awesome! This album takes me back to the rock of my youth. LOL
As for Praise Music, I have to acquiesce that most of it is lame; however, I have enjoyed Lincoln Brewster: Let Praises Ring. I love this album probably because of its strong guitar overtures. What can I say; I am a sucker for the guitar player. He does Here I am to Worship as a guitar solo that is amazing. Then there is Jeremy Camp: Beyond Measure; All American-Rejects: Move Along; and Nickleback: All the Right Reasons (lead singer, Chad Kroeger can sing to me ANYTIME)

That's about it for the general favorites of 2006. All in all, it was a good year: one of hope, redefining moments and coming to terms with life in general.

This I know for sure...

SCUBA and Life!

Well I did it!! This weekend I completed my SCUBA training and became a certified open water diver. It was a great experience-one I will never forget. I completed the class work over the past few weeks and then spent two intensive days of training in Florida to receive the certification. This is a big “chapter two” thing for me. I have always loved the water and believed I would enjoy the SCUBA experience. I was NOT disappointed.

As I collapsed from exhaustion following the first day of training, I was reminded of the miracle of the wonderful mixture of nitrogen and oxygen in the air we breathe. There were times during my training that I was amazed at the fact that I was truly breathing under the water. This experience reminded me that when difficult times arise in our lives we often are at the point where we feel we can’t breathe. We aren’t sure where the next breath will come from and we are in need of some breathing apparatus to assist us.

One of the “skills” I had to pass for certification was to take the regulator out of my mouth—let go of it—wait 15 seconds, find it and replace it. Fifteen seconds seemed like a lifetime. The inability to breathe was such a defenseless feeling. The impulse to panic was difficult to fight. When I finally was allowed to grasped that regulator and plunged it into my mouth to begin breathing again, I felt an immeasurable feeling of relief.

When we face difficult times that leave us with the feeling of breathlessness, there is always a lifeline (regulator) for us to grasp. It may not be evident at first and we may have to feel around for it, but it is there. It could be in the form of a great friendship, a spiritual awakening, a song, or simply becoming aware of our own inner strength. The encouraging aspect of this analogy is that there is no need to remain in a state of despair. The assistance we long for is right there for us to grab on to—but—we have to be willing to do so—to grab for it—hold onto it—and use it to become living, breathing people again.

As for my SCUBA escapades, I am sure there will be more. As for life, I long to not only identify, but rely on the “regulators” in my life. What’s more, I long to be that lifeline for others.
This I know for sure…

My Own Independence Day!

I made an amazing realization today. My faith is truly my own. It is not based on my heritage, nor on the tenants of my “religion”, but is based on the spiritual struggles of my life and what God, himself, has chosen to attest to me. This realization came to me after reading a post on the young widow electronic bulletin board to which I credit much of my ability to heal. There was a post by someone questioning thier faith and the "plan" of God through their grief---so very understandable. It was following reading his post that I realized what I believed had come full circle. I finally wear my faith as a comfortable robe or favorite pair of sweatpants.

I was fortunate to be raised in a very A-typical “Nazarene” parsonage—where questioning was not only supported, but encouraged—where finding your faith was more that mere words, but an actual process to complete. I am here today to say that though the process is far from complete, it is much more defined. It is not the faith of my father, in fact, though the foundation may look the same the "ins and outs" may look terribly different. I own what I believe—I have possession of it. It is what God himself has revealed to me about MY life and MY circumstances and how I am to live.

There is tremendous freedom in that. My faith is not based on what others do, but on what I do with the values God has revealed to me. My integrity holds true because it is based in what I believe. Then, even though I am not perfect—God’s amazing GRACE covers me. OK—now my “Nazarene” friends get a bit nervous and my “Baptist” brothers and sisters say “AMEN”, but I do believe we totally underestimate the GRACE that God provides. It covers our lives, our decisions and our sacred choices.

This I know for sure….

Stepping Into My Faith

I sat, stoic in the pew on Sunday as our worship pastor challenged us to “step into our faith”. I thought about it long and hard. Stepping into my faith would mean that I would have to totally let go of what I wanted for my life and be willing to accept whatever God had for me. Stepping into my faith would require me to stride up to the cliff—look down---see the 200 foot drop and place one foot in front of the other and continue to walk. Was I up to that challenge? It meant examining my life---completely and in a most agonizing way. Was what I believed enough to carry me through what life had to bring? The answer---a resounding YES—stepping up meant placing my trust, my complete devotion into what God had for me. This may not be what I had in mind, but it is most certainly what God had in mind for me. It may not be the “easy” route (most likely it is far from easy), but it will be the most fulfilling in the end.

I have to admit that since Sunday I have been trying to figure out what it means for me to “step into my faith”. A friend had an old 4 Him cd on his ipod and shared the song “It is Well with My Soul” with me. Now, this is one of my most favorite hymns. I grew up singing it in church. It was a beautiful arrangement that I had not heard. I remember when my husband lost his job at Illinois Power—I was asked to sing this song in church the following Sunday—talk about stepping into my faith. I had to stand before 400 people and buy into these words. I remember singing the first verse:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Ok- good thing I didn’t have any idea what that would mean when facing the grief following the death of my husband HOWEVER it was a promise that when I began stepping into my faith it would sustain me through the trials of life, no matter what they were—then came the second verse:

Though Satan should buffet (pound, batter), though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

Yikes—stepping into my faith became a bit harder, even though I knew my life was covered completely by what Jesus gave, I still didn’t seem to totally be able to make that “step”. Then came verse three:

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul.

Now it becomes easier—to know that the God of the universe has taken the time to care about my simple life—and the decisions I am making—the life I have chosen to live-- is overwhelming to say the least. Stepping into my faith means coming full circle and embracing my life story and learning to find God’s grace despite my circumstances. Of course this is something I am totally unable to accomplish on my own. So I continuously reach out for the support of family, friends, my church community and the universe of believers that embrace faith.

This I know for sure.

A New Year's Resolution

“When we grow closer to God, we do not become more spiritual, but more loving.”

I am not sure who said this, but I have it printed on a card sitting on my desk at work. It is a constant reminder that when we are rooted in God’s love, it transforms us into more accepting, tender and tolerant people. Unconditional acceptance of others becomes effortless because we suddenly see them through God’s eyes. We are called to let God be God and we are to simply step back and embrace each other---not only as a body of believers, but as fellow travelers.

I know this isn’t an easy concept to grasp, even harder to actually live. When I look across my classroom at those 25 children, I want to see them the way God does. When I look at my family and friends, I want to see them as God does. When I look at myself, I want to see me as God does (this is a hard one). When I look at the Walmart cashier, I want to see her has God does. So, I ask myself—how can I get to this place. I refer back to the quote. In order to love people more, I must know God better.

As I look to the new year with resolve, it seems I need to bypass the “normal” resolutions and think of those which are rooted in more practical terms. I am not fond of resolutions perhaps because I am Type-A personality and feel like when I make a resolution and fall short then I have failed. So this year I am going to make a different type of resolution, one which I can perhaps attain. So here it goes: I am determined to continue on this life journey with a new resolve – to give more and take less; to love more and hurt less; to sing more and complain less; and to pray more and worry less. Most of all—I resolve to know God in a way that requires me to love more.

This I know for sure.

A Disclaimer!

Perhaps I need to take a break from blogging for awhile---seems that whenever I write a blog, it is like God says “lets see if she really lives this”. Now, I know that isn’t true, but every time I write—there seems to be a test of faith that follows. You shouldn’t write anything you aren’t able to back up---

This I know for sure….

Season of Peace

For He himself is our peace… Ephesians 2:14

Resting in the peace that God feely gives is often difficult. The season of Christmas represents peace—peace beyond our understanding. It is at this time of year we discuss the need for peace, yet seldom do we seize it. As I travel this path that has become my calling, I have a heightened realization that I desperately need God. My weaknesses are magnified and my strengths haven’t mattered—this has made me totally reliant on the peace that God gives. Even through the desolation that accompanies difficulties, blossoms of peace peek through the desert of life. These blossoms of peace grow from the seeds of moments in our lives resembling - a kind word, a song, a new relationship, the laughter of children, hope for a future, or a feeling of self-confidence that has been long lost. We just have to be present to claim these gifts.

I have found God’s greatest work tends to be exemplified when life seems the hardest. Needing God has made me well aware of the fact that I am unable to travel alone. Even my strengths fail me through the journey without the empowerment of a heavenly father—my weaknesses seem to be magnified and my security wanes. Peace becomes a confidence I must act upon through the promises God has given.

When life seems too difficult to tolerate, when circumstances seem beyond what we can handle, when we are too tired to take the next step on our journey—Christ becomes our peace. It is at this point that we must begin to claim the promise that “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For 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 8:37-39). This is real peace.

Nothing in life is predictable. Life is often chaotic, but He is our Peace all we have to do -- is claim it.

This I know for sure.

The Gifts of the Season!

It is that holiday time of the year. I am forced, as a public school teacher, to remain benign to the “Christmas Spirit”. Everything I send home must say “holiday” not “Christmas” and must never contain anything that might be construed as religious in nature. This got me thinking about the most wonderful CHRISTMAS gifts I have ever received. I remember getting the Chrissy Doll with hair that actually grew—of course I cut it within a week and never played with her again. I remember getting a Viewmaster slide projector as a gift from the church in St. Louis—wow, I loved that and played with it for almost two weeks before putting it in the corner of my room. There are very few gifts I have actually used or appreciated long after they were given. My husband knew that if it plugged in---it wasn’t a gift—what a smart man. The gifts I truly cherish are those not wrapped and placed under the tree, but given with love by those who have experienced this life journey with me.

Tom Paine stated in 1791 “and the slavery of fear made man afraid to think”—I am so very thankful for the gift of free thought that was not only embraced, but encouraged by my family. It is a gift that continues to give as we grow together and appreciate the thought processes we so eagerly mock within each other.

The gift of friendship so freely given, is one I treasure. When I think of Christ and his close friendships, I feel I am luckier than he. I have had friends stick by me through tremendous heartache—no one has denied me or even given up on me. I read in many books not to expect my friendships to remain in tact through the grieving process; apparently, my friends beat the odds—they have not only stayed, but loved through it all and now they share in my joys as I regain a new normal. The gift of new relationships is also something I value this year. It is amazing to me how God provides just what we need.

According to Nelson Algren, “the journey is all”. I actually appreciate the gift of “the journey”. I am grateful that there is a God who loves and cares for me and wants the best for my life. I value the one who leads me through the maze of life’s decisions. I am not sure where I would be at this point if it weren’t for extreme faith, but I DO know where I would be without it.

Supportive family is a gift I am fortunate to have received. Not only am I blessed with amazing parents who, after 40+ years are still in love each other, I am also blessed with brothers who mean the world to me and sister-in-laws who are equally a part of my heart. I am fortunate that my family has loved me through these past months with intensity and resolve to see me through to the other side.

The love of my children is a gift I treasure beyond words. They love so completely and so meaningfully. I honor who they are and who they will become. They have so much of their earthly father within them that I know they have tender hearts. They have enough of their mother that I know they have some “spunk”. I am truly privileged to be their mother.

I am thankful for the promise of tomorrow. I am forever grateful for the hope of a future and an openness of love that is always there for the taking. I am opening the gift of hope—hope that our lives with be stronger and that love will one day fill our home again. God is so faithful to complete all we ask and hope for.

Finally, I am grateful for the gift of Jesus Christ. The hope that his birth represents is simply astounding. I am normally a big Easter fan (it is my favorite holiday), but if it weren’t for the amazing birth, there would never have been a resurrection and without the resurrection there would never be hope. This is the HOPE that insures all of us a future filled with confidence and anticipation.

Throughout this holiday season……

THIS I know for sure….

A Lesson in Need

It is the season for spreading joy throughout the land, right? It is the time for helping those less fortunate—I am all for that—I am all about helping others. It makes your load lighter and creates within you this awesome sense of gratitude and goodwill. Today I received an email from an organization, of which I am involved, that included the following message:

“This year we have adopted two…. families who are in need. We are collecting money as well as gifts. Below are some items we are seeking for these two families..” What you will find following is a condensed (very condensed) list of the items submitted by this needy family. Marsha commentary will be in italics and bold.

On the list were some very reasonable items including: Uno Spin, The Game of Life, earrings, necklace, Old Navy gift card etc.. I have no problem with these items. They are expected to be on the list of someone less fortunate. However, the list didn’t end there. Here are some of the “other” items on the list: Ipod Stereo that fits an Ipod Nano – seriously—they have ipods how horrible life must be since they only have a Nano and not a 30 gig video ipod?; Lion King 1 ½ (DVD full screen) – what happens if I buy the regular screen version; Mario baseball for Gamecube, NGC Pokeman TD gale (game for gamecube) – GAMECUBE are they kiddin’; Silver Ipod Nano – oh, one of them doesn’t have an ipod—ok I am going to stop here except for one other interjection so as not to become too overly sarcastic; Coach, Luis Vuitton or Guess brand purse – sure—let me run out and purchase a $400-$700 purse for the needy – seriously.

When did we get to this point? When did a family in need require an “Epson Stylus Photo R340 Printer”? Could it possibly be that we no longer have a distinguishable line between what we want and what we need? My brother related a story he heard about a father trying to instill the concept of “need” in his son. The son wanted a pair of $100.00 Air Jordan tennis shoes. His father said “Son, I have $40.00. You WANT a pair of Air Jodan shoes. Seems to me you NEED-----$60.00.” Funny as that maybe—it hits the mark. Truth be told, the son didn’t really NEED the shoes at all.

I will confess—I have not had much success instilling within my own children a sense of gratitude for what they are so fortunate to have, but you can bet that is at the top of my Christmas wish list now. I want them to understand the difference between want and need. I wish for them to know that we have far more than most folks in the universe and for that we should be extremely grateful. I also want them to know that there are those TRULY less fortunate who wake up every morning with empty stomachs and wonder where they will sleep for the evening. I want them to understand that in Jesus's words “Blessed are the poor in Spirit for theirs is the kingdom of God”. I yearn for them to grasp that it matters very little what we possess, but life’s riches are measured by the relationships we develop and the love we share. For myself, I desire a spirit that truly gets what being poor means and a gracious heart that is content with what I already possess. Living in the land of plenty we lack much in the way of gratitude.

This I know for sure.