...another chapter

A Brand New Day

2010-01-18T17:08:00.002-06:00

Just thought I'd let you all know that we've updated our web site, complete with wedding photos and all the fixin's. After more than a 2-month hiatus for the wedding and holidays, Katie and I are recommencing our blog there.

Thanks again, everyone, for all your support over the months and years. See you all at the new site!

-Tyson

Yet Another Chapter...

2009-10-28T09:25:00.004-05:00

Friends, I've been burning to write... And yes, I know it's been almost 3 months since my last post. God has been pouring so much into us these days, and so much life has been lived. So much so, that it dawns on me that we're basically at that point where one day we will look back at these days and recognize them as a "turning of another page"... the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next. We'll start with a story, as told by Katie... Hopefully you find it sweet and heart-warming. It is certainly a testament to God's goodness. But to do it the appropriate justice, we're moving this blog to a new venue. Just click on the link. Katie and I will be merging our lives-- and our blogs-- into one...

Please join us HERE... http://web.me.com/kateandty/Kate%26Ty/Blog/Blog.html

----UPDATE---- 10/31/09- 12:15 am CDT

In the days that have followed the posting of this entry, the response at the new blog site has been so encouraging. However, a couple of anonymous readers decided to leave this blog "rest" with a bit of a parting shot in the comments section. The sad part is, I know their sentiments are not unique to themselves... I let it "breathe" a bit, prayed about it, and decided it needed to be addressed with "the truth spoken in love". Here is what they wrote, and my response... (Too long to be posted as a "comment"... so I'm adding it here as an update...)

Anonymous said...

I am sure you have considered the ramifications of this, but as a young mother to a son myself, I have to voice what I'm sure many others are thinking. Katie is not T.J.'s mother. She will most certainly mother him and will be a great influence in his life. But, he has a mother. Please do not replace her in his mind. My heart breaks at the thought that if I were to die, my son (at age 2) would really have no lasting memories of me. If my husband were to remarry (as he most certainly would--and should!) I would hope that he would not emphasize that his new wife was our son's mother. I am his mother. He is my baby--forever and always. Congratulations to you both.

October 30, 2009 8:14 PM

Anonymous said...

As a mother of 3 childre, I have to agree with the other comment. Although I am sure that Katie is a wonderful person, she will never be TJ's mother. He already has one. I think that it is really sad that he will not remember his Mom as he is much to young. You have already replaced her:(

October 30, 2009 9:33 PM

I appreciate the thought, my anonymous friends, and cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, mothers of little ones, to fathom, vicariously through Leslie's journey, the thought of "outliving" your precious little kids.

I'm going to bypass the inaccurate assertion that somebody is trying to "replace" Leslie, because you obviously haven't read my previous thoughts on TJ's and my (and Katie's) understanding of what a "new mommy" entails. I encourage you to dig deeper into my archive here, to read up on Katie's blog, and follow our new blogs into this "next chapter" for a better understanding of how God is weaving together our little family. But to summarize, nobody CAN or is in any way TRYING to "replace" Leslie. Moving on...

Yes, TJ's first mommy-- his birth mommy-- will always be Leslie. She is in Heaven, and TJ can NOT wait to be with there with her some day. We talk of her often, and we pray at night and thank God for her...

...and we thank God for giving us Katie, who has selflessly and bravely dared to love a child to whom she did not give birth... as her OWN. Can you fathom such a love? It is God-breathed and miraculous to be sure!

Yes, Leslie is "always" going to be TJ's mommy-- the woman who brought him into the world and raised him wonderfully until her dying day. But she is no longer HERE. While I'm certain (although somewhat blindly) that she indeed still loves her only child... I'm also certain that her love takes on a much different form in the heavenly realm. She is no longer here to love and hold and speak to TJ. Leslie understands better than any of us today that life goes on-- for her, in the eternal sense, and for TJ and me and Katie and each of you in the earthly sense... Separated for a time, but not forever, for those who share this eternal hope.

I only bring these truths up for you two-- and others who share your sentiment-- to consider as you share your judgment and misled observations with the masses. Dig deeper. What is it you are clinging to, hoping that your son should no longer know the nurturing and loving touch of a mother, should you move on from this place? What of adopting parents out there-- be it a spouse of a widow (like Katie) or couples who are unable to birth children and choose to take on a child as their own, to offer the "orphan" the love of parents and a family that they would not otherwise know but by the grace and provision of a benevolent God?

My encouragement to you ladies is this: You have spent some time relating with Leslie, apparently, imagining yourself looking down on your kids from a far-off place, watching as they call another woman "mommy". Try just for a minute, instead, to relate with your KIDS... What if you were gone forever from this place, completely incapable of kissing an ouchie when the little ones fell? Or reading them a book at night? Or being there for their first day of Kindergarten, or graduation day, their wedding, the birth of your grandchildren... Would you prefer them dwell in the great void of the absence of you alone? Or would it be better-- for your precious, beloved children-- to have a "new mommy" there to love them through those moments, in your absence? Especially one like Katie, who knew you and honors you and your legacy? How you respond is a testament to the true love you have for your children.

And the last thing I challenge you with is this: Put yourself in Katie's shoes. She reads these blogs. And I know for a fact many other husbands and wives of widows (and widows themselves) read these blogs. Parents with adopted children read these blogs. Can you for a minute fathom loving those precious little kids of yours... had ANOTHER woman given birth to them? The way you do? With the ferocious passion you possess for your little ones? The life Katie has chosen to live is a tremendous cross she will forever bear-- one that DAILY I pray will bring her at least HALF as much joy and happiness as it has cost her in sacrificial love. She loves TJ as her OWN-- kissing the ouchies and disciplining and reading and hugging and putting up with all the crap toddlers put a mommy through-- in SPITE of the fact that she KNOWS that some of the world says that she is NOT TJ's "real" mother. She chooses every morning to wake up in the face of that opposition and love him EVEN MORE for it.

So, is it "really sad" that TJ will only grow up with our stories and his fragments of memories of Leslie? Absolutely! But not as sad as it would be if that was the ONLY idea of a mother that he ever knew at all. I thank God for Leslie. And since He saw it best to take her home when He did... I am even MORE in awe of His love, grace, redemption, and provision in Katie.

Thank you again for your thoughtful reflections, and I hope you understand my heart in sharing my response.

Tyson

A Bundle of Joy-ful Noise

2009-08-06T10:30:00.037-05:00

"Ty, he's just such a happy kid." My mom-in-law reflected a week or so ago. She was at Dana's house for a couple days, and I was picking him up after work. We were just giggling at him from across the room, playing with the boys.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm so thankful. Every day. God has protected his little heart. His joy has helped me through so many hard days."

Isn't it just like God to take the ONE thing I've been most concerned about in the wake of the events of the past couple of years, and just turn it on a dime into the one constant encouragement and reminder of His goodness! My job, my pride, my home... everything was easy to "let go of", after being forced to let go of Leslie, in order to allow God to begin to do His redemption work. But TJ? He was the one thing I just had the hardest time entrusting to God.

"By the grace of God, Mom." I continued our conversation there in Dana's kitchen. "I mean... he's a little miracle, isn't he? I was so worried about how I'd manage. I mean, how can I be a mommy AND a daddy?! I can't do this alone!"

Obviously... I can't. But God has provided.

Sure, there are little quirks that will take years to work through. He still sleeps with his paci. (We're working on it.) He still has an exaggerated fear of abandonment-- nothing like it used to be... But every once in a while, I'll be taking out the trash or something and will come back inside to a crying little boy. "I thought you left me," he'll say as he wipes away tears. But all those things considered, I marvel every day at the joy, compassion, and fearless energy that just spills from this child's every word and action. I'm brought to my knees in humble thanskgiving for his apparent sense of security and comfort... for his "adjustment" (as we adults call it). He's genuinely happy for his Mom, that she's all better, and is totally secure in her love for him. And he loves the life we're living together.

And he's genuinely excited about the prospects of this "New Mommy" thing...

I just returned from a 4-day weekend on Lake Michigan with the Buchers. Dad landed a couple of Sea-Doo's for the week, and on Tuesday, Curt, Chris (bro's-in-law) and I were taking the kids on rides up and down the beach. After one of TJ's turns (he LOVED it... the faster and rougher the better... he's a little adrenaline junky like his dad), he plopped down beside Dana under the beach umbrella. (I was giving another cousin a ride, so Dana recounted the story for me.) Completely unprovoked and out of the blue, TJ grinned up at his aunt...

"Hey Dana! Guess what! I'm going to have a New Mommy soon!"

This of course caught Dana a little off guard, but she was touched by his sincere excitement at the thought. "Yes TJ! I know! Aren't you excited?"

"Uh-huh! And guess what! It's going to be KATIE!"

"Aw, that's great, TJ!" Dana encouraged him. "You love Katie, don't you."

"Yeah," he smiled his dimply smile and went back to eating his fruit snacks and building his sand castle.

Again and again, I stand in awe as I consider what we've been through as a family the past 2 years, and just witness these day-to-day miracles. Beauty to ashes, the new vessel, eternal perspective... I've tried over and over to put these things into words on the pages of this blog. And every time I fall short of the praise and worship that is due the One who has provided. I guess I'm brought once again to a profoundly simply word. "Hallelujah". A word of praise, thanks, or joy to the Lord. A joyful noise. With every breath, Lord, this will be my song.

Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me,

And the world's all as it should be.

Blessed be Your name.

And blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering.

'Though there's pain in the offering,

Blessed be Your name.

Every blessing You pour out I'll

Turn back to praise.

And when darkness closes in, Lord,

Still I will say,

"Blessed be the name of the Lord!" ...

...You give and take away.

My heart will choose to say,

"Blessed be Your name!"

This was our song through the diagnosis, the surgery, the prognosis, the suffering... It is our song in victory, in awestruck wonder at His provision and blessings... Again I say...

Hallelujah!

Special thanks to Papa, "Aunt" Lydia, and Heather H for the great photos!!

Heavenly Anniversary

2009-07-23T22:12:00.000-05:00

TJ and I will be spending the weekend with Leslie's mom's extended family in Indiana. The annual "Asch Bash", as it's called. (For those of you who don't know, a freaky part of our family tree... Leslie's mom's maiden name: Aschliman. I know. Crazy. Don't worry. We checked it out when we were dating. It's legit. Completely un-related families. At least on this side of the Atlantic Ocean.) Anyway, I'm not sure how "coincidental" the timing of the annual Bash is this year, but we will all be together on July 26th. Exactly one year after Leslie finally defeated cancer. Exactly one year since those of us left behind lost our Leslie.

The Aschliman's on Leslie's side (well, BOTH sides of Leslie's family, actually), have always been remarkably supportive of us. Since the first time I met them (a typical get-together-- attended by about 60 or 70 cousins, aunts, uncles, and so-on-- consisting of a sausage fry, followed by an afternoon of playing basketball, followed by a family style potluck dinner) I was made to feel like I'd been there forever. From my first Thanksgiving with the Asch's, I felt like I belonged to the family. (We joke it's the Aschliman genes... I fit right in. I was already "one of them".) Through Leslie's sickness, this extended family wrapped their collective arms around us. In the time since, they've been so thoughtful and supportive. They loved Leslie so much, and they miss her dearly. It will be a wonderful and difficult weekend. On so many levels.

As I prepare my heart and mind for the weekend, I'm getting a lot of notes and hugs from people... "praying for you this week..." and so-on. It seems the expectation is that this should be a remarkably difficult week for TJ and me. I guess it would be all too easy to say that this is just a hard, sad week. But in reality, it's just not that simple.

Leslie's Birthday... now that was a nostalgic day, full of memories and all kinds of feelings. (Thank you to all my blog-ees, by the way, for making that day special with all the laughs, memories, and stories.) Mothers Day was difficult. Our wedding anniversary... THAT was BRUTAL. TJ's birthday found me basically catatonic, on my face in my parents' condo in Florida, soaking the carpet with my tears and snot. "HE'S ONLY THREE!!!" I cried out to God. "YOU TOOK HIS MOMMY!!!"

Yes, there were hard moments, this past year. Hard "firsts". Holidays, memories, relics she left behind, which I'd stumble across while trying to get the house in order... and so-on. But to be honest, this "first"-- the anniversary of the last week of her life and subsequent death-- is not by a far cry the hardest for me. The other "firsts" were representative of a life that was lost-- the part of my life that died with Leslie. Remembering her life-- so well-lived. At Christmas, for instance, I remembered our first Christmas together. TJ's first Christmas. The years of memories and traditions that we were building as a family. At her birthday this year, I mourned the loss of the gift that I and the whole world were blessed with on March 18, 1976... All the memories that would no longer be shared with her... At Mother's Day, it was dealing with the fact that she and TJ would never know the bond I thought, in my feebly human mind, that they should have. THOSE were sad days.

But what am I truly "remembering" this week? This time last year... well... To avoid being intimately graphic, I'll just say her family and I were watching Leslie endure the worst suffering I've ever seen with my own eyes. We were in her hospital room 24/7, watching her fight for her last breaths, as she was trying to escape this world and fly to Jesus. We loved on her. We rooted her on. We sang to her. Very special moments, indeed. I will remember them forever. But to be honest, when I look back and remember, this time is more about being thankful that those times are over... thankful that her suffering is done. And yes, thankful that a new life has begun... both for her, and for us.

But the hardest part about this week for me is thinking of the Aschlimans (on her mom's side, that is) and the Buchers... The friends here and in Indy... And those scattered across the globe. The ones who perhaps are reminded more this week of her absence than of her victory. My heart breaks for all of you. I know how deeply Leslie is missed.

I think sometimes people forget that the grieving, for TJ and me, actually began in the months leading up to July. Indeed, Leslie was even able to take part in that "grieving process", to a large degree-- a fact for which I'm strangely thankful. And furthermore... the truth is, most of Leslie's loved ones-- as difficult as it was-- were forced to face the fact that "life goes on", in the days and months that followed July 26, 2008. But for TJ and me, life as we knew it was over. Not a day went by-- not a breath went by-- when her absence wasn't felt in a very physical sense. The house grew a lot emptier those days. Quieter. We didn't merely miss Leslie... A part of our lives died with her. (Although we all know what Jesus did to death!)

No, July 26 will not be remembered by TJ and me as a poignantly tragic day-- a day marking the onset of our worst days. No, the hardest days of my life started in early May of 2008, when the thoracic surgeon uttered the words, "her cancer is on her lungs", followed by the words, "no cure". Or if you want, you can go back to October of 2007 and throw in those days for good measure as well-- the days leading up to her first major surgery, when the battle against cancer commenced. Sure, there were some sweet moments in there (as Ginny transparently reported in the "Leslie's Journey" blog). But to be honest, the biggest thing I'm "mourning" or remembering this week is more of a "celebration"... This week marks the beginning of the end to the hardest days of my life-- the end of watching helplessly as my wife suffered and died. You can see, I hope, how easily that "mourning" can become celebration of her (our) subsequent freedom and eternal healing.

I talked to (Leslie's) Mom about this just yesterday. We were asking each other how we were doing this week.

"Mom-- you remember in the hospital, those last 3 or 4 days... When the reality of what was happening set in... Our 'support' and words of encouragement for Leslie took on a very different tone. We no longer were telling her to 'fight'. We were encouraging her to 'let go'. We were rooting her on to victory in an eternal sense. We breathed a strange sigh of relief when it was finally over. That's kind of where I'm at these days. Just ready for it to be over. Ready to celebrate the victory. Ready to be done with the battle."

My thoughts go back to TJ's "taking the news" in the days that followed July 26, 2008. His eyes LIT UP over his hot dog at the zoo the next day, as I told him that Mommy had finally made it to Heaven, and that she wasn't sick anymore. A couple of days later, as Karen the Homecare nurse came by to pick up the cancer battle gear, TJ beat me to the door to greet her. "Nurse Karen!! Mommy's ALL BETTER!!!" He was utterly overjoyed.

So sure... It has been a hard year, at times. But this week isn't among the toughest. This week isn't about losing a battle to cancer. This week, to me, is about gaining victory. Freedom. LIFE.

I do appreciate your prayers. Truly I do. I am continually humbled by the thoughtfulness of friends and family who just pick up the phone, drop an email, give me a hug when we bump into each other, etc... But if you do think to pray for TJ and me... please remember the friends and family who are struggling this week. So many people who loved Leslie weren't as "fortunate" as TJ and I to have to deal with the void she left on a daily, "with-every-breath" basis. So days and weeks like this are certain to be harder on some than on others. Not everyone has been so blessed as to experience the kind of redemption story TJ and I are experiencing these days.

Please pray for Katie as well. Perhaps not surprisingly, this week has been a very tough one on her. It's complex. The best I can do to give you direction as to how to pray is to direct you to her blog entry on the topic. In time, all things will become more clear. Of this we are certain. But this week has just been hard for "us". We covet your prayers.

So, friends... THAT's "how I'm doing" this week. Ready to celebrate the victory. Done fighting. Done dwelling on the suffering, and ready to get on with experiencing the new life. The "Redemption Story". Proud as ever of Leslie and the warrior and servant she was. Thankful as ever-- as she is-- that she is no longer here fighting, but finally whole... Finally, truly, ALIVE.

With you all this weekend,

Tyson

The Cloud and the Fire

2009-07-13T14:34:00.006-05:00

By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night. Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people. (Ex. 13:21-22 NIV)

Lately I've been relating an awful lot to the Israelites as they wandered through the desert on their 40 year journey to the Promised Land. It is such a powerful image of a life lived in faith. Open-handed commitment to the Almighty.

It's not always easy. Many of us have had this little conversation with God:

"Where are You taking us, God? You say 'The Promised Land'... but I've gotta admit, sometimes, out here wandering in the desert, we just miss the familiarity of Egypt. I mean... I know there was bondage and no hope for us there... I know you desire more for us... But at least it was familiar. At least we knew where to find water.... where our next meal was coming from..."

And yet, we get up in the morning and we see that cloud, and we follow. And when the desert sun sets, there is the fire in the sky... and we keep following. Our destination is in God's hands. We're just called to put one foot in front of the other and follow.

If we follow in faith, He will provide. Our questions and doubts will be answered. Our needs will be met. But in HIS time, and on HIS terms. Not our own.

My mind goes back to the story when the Israelites had gone 3 full days without water, and once they arrived at an "oasis", of sorts, the water was "bitter". That might have been enough to harden a heart or two, wouldn't you think? But rather than grumbling or turning from God or even taking matters into their own hands, Moses turned to God and asked... "Ummm.... so.... NOW what?!"

"Throw that piece of wood over there into the water. It'll turn sweet." Moses Obeyed. God provided. They drank. They slept. In the morning there was more manna. They ate. They followed the cloud. Maybe not how the Israelites would've drawn it up... but God provided. On HIS terms.

Indeed... His ways are NOT our ways. But His was are perfect.

Katie and I have been praying for months about the details, trying to navigate this wilderness together, en route "The Promised Land". Decisions, decisions, decisions. Where do we call home? What do careers look like in this "new life"? How do we balance our need for a "new start" or a "new life" without abandoning the blessings of provision which have carried us this far? This idea that TJ has carried in his heart for so long-- this hope of a "new mommy"... How does Katie fit into that? What is the "timeline" we're on?

It's just about enough to stress a relationship out, you know? But if we've learned one thing since we first started communicating 9 or 10 months ago, it's to stay "open-handed" with our trust and faith in God. To bring our requests, questions, needs, fears, doubts, and desires to God. And to rest in Him. And in the morning, wake up and follow that cloud. And in the night, there's always that fire. When we bang the staff on the rock, water gushes forth. He provides. We drink.

Praise God for His provision. For His plan. For His promises. For His goodness, which we are so blessed to drink to our hearts' content, as we continue to follow that cloud and that fire.

Timelines

2009-06-05T08:15:00.003-05:00

So... Did it really take God just 7 days to create the universe? Or was it more like 7 billion years? (Or "7 ages", as some theologians infer, in an attempt to reconcile "science" and "religion"...)

But then, really... what is a DAY to God? Diving deeper into that rabbit hole... what is one of God's "days" to us?

Do they have watches in Heaven? What about calendars? How do we measure "eternity"? When does (or did, rather) eternity start? How old is God? Does God the Father have a birthday party once a year? Oh wait... how long is a year in heaven?

The whole conversation concerning the perceived details of "God's timing" is rhetorical, really. Bottom line is, it is foolish to expect that God is bound to our 24-hour "day", and it is equally foolish to suggest that God NEEDS 7 billion years to do anything or everything He so desires. God is simply not bound by time. He is. He was. He will always be. Time is actually man's own invention-- a figment of our own imagination, God-breathed as our imaginations are. God's days are not numbered. Ours are. That's why our forefathers started measuring the speed at which the sun creeps across the sky, thousands of years ago. Time is man's own construct by which we measure our own days-- as if we have any control whatsoever as to the quantity or length of those days. But the God we serve, (whether or not we acknowledge Him or love Him, we do indeed serve Him-- every one of us), is not bound by our watches. He is not a slave to our calendars. He moves as He wishes. When He wants. For as long as He desires. It's all the same to Him.

---

I was just talking to a friend who has recently had some employment problems. And then of course, some resulting financial problems. And then some of the seemingly un-related "standard" child-rearing challenges mixed with some child health challenges. Was it perfect timing, or horrible timing? I mean... When the bathtub happened to explode into an uncontainable gusher, just as they were dropping one of their children into a cool bath, in the aforementioned tub, in an attempt to control a raging fever? Now, all homeowners have experienced some sort of plumbing crisis, to be sure. But, on top of all the other stuff this particular family has been facing...?? I mean, c'mon God... NOW??!! At such a time as THIS??!!

Well, my friend-- an intense task-master, and an expert at just about everything-- put his new found "free time" (a nice little ancillary benefit of being unemployed) to use. He shut off the water main into his house and went about fixing the problem. To hear him tell the story is truly priceless. He worked, drilled, wrenched, cut, sweated, and plumbed his knuckles to the bone for 5 or more days, trying to fix the problem as quickly as possible-- certainly I'd have done the same. ("It was like camping out. Only we were home," recounts his wife, referring to their lack of running water that week.) But as it turns out, the problem just wasn't going to be fixed until the right parts and tools arrived... And those tools and parts wouldn't arrive until 5 days after the gusher first gushed. And all the working, drilling, wrenching, cutting, sweating, and plumbing in the world wasn't going to make the parts arrive any faster. Bottom line, his expectation of the time it SHOULD take to fix the tub and have running water in his house again was something COMPLETELY different than what was actually even possible. The truly awesome part the story is that my friend, being a broken and God-seeking man (2 prerequisites for being the kind of person who tends to have a true and good impact the world), in hindsight, now sees the whole ordeal as God's way of saying, "Now... Enough of this plumbing thing... Let's talk about your job. Your family. Your life. Who's timeline are you on? Mine or yours? What exactly are you trying to accomplish? Your work or mine? You want to keep doing things your way, or are you ready to follow Me where I lead you?"

A bible verse bubbles up from my heart and settles on my mind... "Cease striving and know that I am God..."

---

I have another friend-- a full-time mother of 3 kids. Just turned 40. Her youngest is starting pre-school this fall, her older two in elementary school... JUST when it looks as though she might actually start to get some time to her "self" during the weekdays, ("Finally, some 'ME' time!" she says), she and her husband are faced with a tough set of circumstances, a solution to which may include home-schooling this coming year. They have been broken and seeking God (there it is, again), as to what to do with their kids' schooling situation... Which seemed at this moment to be an answer to their previous prayers as to whether or not they should adopt another child... "Time is running out... we need to make a decision on this..." God has a funny way, though, (as I mentioned in my opening "rhetoric"), of transcending time. 40-year-olds are not supposed to get pregnant. Especially when dealing with all this other "stuff". Timing is everything, right? Or rather, to God, timing is nothing at all. As my friend describes, this new "surprise" pregnancy is nothing short of a miraculous and timely answer to prayer. Several prayers, actually... So much for adoption, for now. So much for "me" time this fall-- and what to do with the "me" time. On with life. On with following wherever He leads. On with time.

---

Ask a cancer survivor how long it takes to "beat it". They'll answer, "the rest of my life". How long does it take to beat you? Hmmm... Same answer.

"How much time do I have, Doc?"

"Same as everyone else," answers the Great Physician. "The rest of your life."

You see, God's not as concerned with the quantity of our days. He's more into "quality of life" therapy. I guess you could call Him a "process guy".

It only took 10 months for God to lead me from living "the dream"-- happily and healthily married, a little boy, a dog, a house in the suburbs with the privacy fence, a good job, a good church-- to being a widowed single father. Four months later, upon returning home from vacation (or rather, a holiday "escape") to a severely flooded house, I laughed (because I couldn't cry-- my eyes had been cried dry the previous 4 months) at "God's timing".

"OF COURSE!!" I looked toward Heaven with my arms outstretched. "My HOUSE! ... NOW! of ALL TIMES!" And so-on... I remembered crying out, "WHAT NEXT?!" and then catching myself... "NO WAIT!!! Don't answer that."

And now, only a little over 10 months after the death of my best friend and wife-- the mother of my child-- I am partnered in love, life, and faith with a new companion. In a "commited relationship." Not at all the timing I'd planned. That's to be sure.

"Is he done grieving his wife?" Some have asked, the questions leaking their way back to me.

I'll never be "over" Leslie. (Which of us who knew the woman will ever be "over" her?!) I'll never be finished dealing with the fact that I lost my wife to cancer. I'll never forget the fact that my son lost his mommy before he was 3 years old. Those thoughts are never going to make me happy. They will always carry a certain amount of weight on my heart-- although that weight will shift and change as time goes on as my perspective changes or "matures". But it will always affect me. I've come a long way emotionally and spiritually over the past year-- I've done a lot of really good "grieving". But am I done? I don't think I'll ever be done grieving, you know? But here's the thing... God saw fit to begin molding a new vessel out of the crumbled mess of me that remained. And in HIS timing, not my own. In HIS fashion, and according to HIS good and perfect will. I couldn't have scripted this. And if I would have been able to, there's no way I'd have ever had the guts to will it into being. Ask Katie. She'll tell you that this is NOTHING that she ever wished or asked for... yet it's somehow EVERYTHING she's ever wanted and what she's been praying for all along. It's just nothing like what she was expecting. At COMPLETELY the perfectly WRONG time in her life. As a friend of mine likes to say, 'He's in the business of making beauty from ashes'."

---

I hear, (from a concerned friend), of a mega-church out west which has a policy which prohibits them from marrying a person who is a widowed parent of minors until 2 years after the death of their spouse. They have a 2 year "grieving" curriculum that must be completed by a church member in such circumstances before "moving on". It takes 2 years for God to work in a heart until it is capable of loving its way through a God-honoring marriage, apparently.

But it only takes Him 168 hours to create the universe. Actually, less than that. The last 24 hours were rest. Wait... what's that you say? It wasn't really 7 days??? It was more like 7 billion YEARS? How do you know? Were you there? Are you saying that God CAN'T create it all in 142 hours? Are you saying He can't heal a widow in less than 2 years? Or... are you just saying He doesn't? You know... kind of like asserting that we're still living in God's "Day of Rest"... God's off the clock. Not in the business of doing creative work anymore. He's done. See you in the afterlife. But for now, you're on your own. And it takes a mere mortal 2 years to heal himself (or be healed by other mere mortals) from that kind of heartbreak. ("Deism" is what they call that.)

---

I'm trying to take a lighter look at some pretty heavy stuff, I realize. But I'm just realizing these days how we as "believers" tend to have a hard time believing that God is still in the business of making beauty from ashes. Galaxies from nothingness. Flesh from dust.

And as if that's not enough disrespect to the Almighty, when we do "allow" for the possibility of His activity in our lives, we set the ground rules. The timelines. The parameters. The criteria. We, my friends, have put God in a box. We have taken the Creator, Father, Counselor, Healer, Savior, and Almighty, and we've turned Him into a beautifully harmless, predictable, inanimate object. We have, en masse, broken the 2nd commandment. We have created for ourselves an idol. And we have called it God.

---

Now, it's a two-way street. Just like the "God has no timeline" thing seems to be working in my favor, in regards to my new relationship and all the joy and happiness He is bringing me in it, so does the same truth strike a gut-wrenching blow into my friend who is still asking, "God, when are you going to lead me to a job? How are you going to provide? When are you going to move?!"

I am not a template. Not a how-to manual in grieving. Not a "standard timeline". God doesn't work in templates. He is creative to the "nth" degree... He is, in fact, Creator. God may take 2 years to put the pieces back together. Just the other week I met a widow who is in her 7th year without her husband, with no idea how I am where I am. "How do you just take that step?" She asks. "You don't." Was my answer. "You abide. And then you move when He sees fit." Just as no 2 people are the same, neither are 2 stories. As similar as circumstances can tend to be on the surface, whether between friends or absolute strangers, the differences are infinite... And so are the possibilities. This, as best I can tell, is as good a "proof" as any of a living, breathing, loving, Creator God. (God doesn't need the proof. But sometimes we do, I guess.)

So... What's your timeline? What's God's? Is He an idol? Or is he GOD?

Thank you, Lord, for moving when You are. How You are. Where You are. I will not drag my feet. I will not push to shorten the timeline. I will simply abide. And I will follow. Be glorified in us-- Your beauty-from-ashes stories. Amen.

Growing Up and Getting Old

2009-05-25T09:25:00.000-05:00

"Why don't you have scratchies on your nose?" TJ asked a couple weeks ago, as I was putting his PJ's on. I had just returned from a couple of days on the road and he was exploring my face with his hands and eyes.

"Because whiskers only grow on my cheeks, neck, and chin," I answered.

"And right here?" He asked as he traced his index finger between my upper lip and nose.

"Yup. And right there." I pulled his soft shirt over his head.

"And this is kind of prickly, too." He felt my sideburns and my scalp. (I had just cut my hair that night-- going with the 3-guard these days, using one of Leslie's industrial-strength clippers from her days as a hair stylist. Ironically enough, it seems to be hiding the aggressively receding hairline, the shorter I cut it. One of these days, I'll just go all the way and use my razor on it.) I tickled his tummy with my face and the top of my head while I pulled his arms through into his shirt.

As I finished dressing him, he summarized his discovery. "You're getting old, Daddy." He rubbed the back of the crown of my head. "You're hair is going away back here... Like an OLD MAN! And OH! You have some gray hairs!!!"

"Yes, TJ," I chuckled. "Daddy is getting older. And YOU are growing UP!"

As I mentioned in my last post, there has been an unfortunate upward trend in the amount of traveling I've done lately. But TJ's and my time together has been thriving, by the grace of God, as my little man continues to grow up in every way. Typically, when I spend my one night a week away from home (sometimes even less than that), it usually works out pretty well-- Aunt Dana is typically the slumber party hostess. (Bless her heart.) TJ gets so excited every time I tell him he's spending the night over there with her boys. Once or twice, Miss Liz has spent the night with him at our place. But a few weeks ago, I spent the entire week "on the road"... Arkansas for a couple days, back to Chicago for a night, and then on the road to Ohio for the remainder of the week, and then to Kentucky for a wedding on the weekend. TJ stayed at Gram's for the entire week. We had a wonderful little reunion party when I returned that Sunday night, and I was certain the kid had grown 2 inches while we were apart. My heart broke a little that night, thinking about how proud I am of him-- no longer a toddler, now a "medium-sized boy", as he puts it (not all the way a "big boy" like cousins Max and Sam, yet, but not a "little boy" either)-- and how proud Leslie would be just to see him playing soccer with me there in the basement. Gram gave him a mini soccer goal for Christmas. And a few weeks ago, she followed it up with the ULTIMATE gift: his first pair of CLEATS! (Yes... it matters that much to him. He has been pretending for-- I don't know... about a YEAR-- that several different pairs of his shoes actually have cleats on the bottom of them. And now, he's got a real pair of Adidas soccer cleats.) So we're playing soccer EVERY night before bed-time. He is such a fun and energetic little kid. Full of stories, thoughts, questions, and brimming with love.

Aunt Lois, (Leslie's aunt) has been sending TJ monthly mailings of Thomas toys since Leslie was sick. He is building quite the collection of Thomas-to-Go (is that what the line is called?) engines and accessories. He LOVES his Thomas stuff. Anyway, in a recent "shipment", Lois shared in the attached card that she was rejoicing with Katie and me, that she was very glad that I had "found someone". She inquisitively noted that I had not really discussed much, in this venue at least, about how TJ was doing with the whole thing. She was right, I realized. So... here is the blog post I'd written 2 weeks ago, (after I got TJ to bed the night he discovered I was getting old), as I was just thanking God for the unique and precious relationship between Katie and TJ that is budding before my very eyes...

------------------------------

"Gram! This weekend we get to find an APARTMENT for KATIE!! She is going to live up by us so we can see her WHENEVER we WANT!!!" TJ could not contain his excitement as we put on his soccer cleats for one more game before Gram left for home this afternoon, after staying with him for one more day today.

Katie landed a great job in nearby St. Charles. She starts on the 11th of May. Quite a miracle (I do not use that term lightly) in today's job market. She's coming up this weekend to make a decision on where she'll call home for the next step on this new journey. And TJ is STOKED. A couple of the apartment complexes have ponds/ lakes that are stocked with fish. He's been excited about going fishing again this spring. Katie and I are just excited to not have 200 miles between us.

The relationship between Katie and TJ has been an amazing thing to witness. TJ is just enthralled with her. He talks about her all the time. I think he thinks she comes over just to see him when she visits. And I guess... he's probably not far off. She adores him. TJ wants to take her to the zoo. And to a Cubbies game. And to the soccer park. He giggles about how she "counts his ribs" (her excuse to tickle him). A few times lately when he and I are alone, he has spontaneously shared how pretty he thinks she is. A couple weeks ago, before she got the offer in St. Charles, he asked me if I could maybe find some "more work to do" down in Indianapolis, so we could live there closer to Katie and go to her house. So of course he was very excited to learn that she'd be getting an apartment right near our house.

Friends, you need to know I have NOT pressed the issue with him. And of course, neither has Katie, in spite of how exponentially her love for him as grown these past few months. It can be a complex and challenging road for her, as she grows into this new role in his life, and she has been continually seeking God's confirmation of His will as we watch their love grow for one another. She told him "I love you, TJ," couple months ago. I think it caught him a bit off guard. And when he's embarrassed, his #1 defense mechanism tends to be this sort of abrupt silliness. He answered her, funny-faced and kind of giggling, "but I don't love YOU!" I thought Katie's answer was perfect. "That's okay, TJ. You don't have to love me back. But no matter what, I will always love you." That was the end of that conversation. Until TJ saw her a few hours later... Mimi and Papa had come over to visit, and we were all hanging out in the basement. I was talking to Mom and Dad, and Katie and TJ were playing with his tool bench. Katie leaned over to him and whispered again, "Hey TJ... I love you." He responded gently and sincerely, "I love you, Katie." Now he's telling her that all the time. From time to time he asks me, "Dad, do you love Katie?" I tell him that yes, I do. He grins from ear to ear and kind of shrugs his shoulders up to his ears (his "I'm SO excited" expression) and says, "I love her too!"

He just adores this woman. And it is not an accident. It is the work of our wise, sovereign, and benevolent Father. One time, many months ago, even before Katie was "in the picture", in the midst of a "Mommy moment" I planted the seed of a possibility of having "a New Mommy" someday in our family. He had been struggling with the fact that I didn't know when we would be going to Heaven to see Mommy-- and that Mommy would not be coming back here to see us. But while this New Mommy that God might give us someday, I explained, would not replace Mommy, (because we know that Mommy would always be waiting for us, watching us, in Heaven with God), God might give us a New Mommy to live with us here... in a home on earth, to go to the zoo with us and eat dinner at night and to tuck us in bed and love us and give us big hugs... until we can all go to Heaven together someday. (And yes, TJ's great big drum set will be all ready for him by then, and Mommy will be so excited to see us all.) Just one time I mentioned this to the little guy... and he latched onto it. I didn't realize it had left such an impression on him at the time. He brings it up on his own valition from time to time. It gets him excited. He clarifies that this New Mommy won't be his Mommy in Heaven. But he does look forward to trips to the zoo and the soccer park... he looks forward to being a whole family again.

He has not, as far as I can tell, begun placing Katie into this "New Mommy" space that he's created in his own mind... Although when he does talk about Mommy, lately, he typically brings up a conversation about Katie shortly thereafter. I'm hoping he pieces it together on his own... but I'm not going to push it. That all might just be something we all need to grow into over time. But rest assured, he LOVES Katie. And he can't wait to have her living close to us so we can eat dinner and "just hang out" with her more often. And neither can his Daddy.

Anyway, as I was on a "TJ kick" tonight, I thought it appropriate to fill you all in as to how TJ's doing with the whole "Daddy and Katie" thing. It's been a true answer to prayer, and an affirmation, of sorts. The boy's child-like faith and profound insight continue to amaze me daily. And the older I get-- the more hair that I lose and the more what remains turns gray-- I am all the more humbled at God's blessings of provision and grace. He is indeed GOOD. And He's got my little man all wrapped up in His loving arms.

Deep Breath

2009-05-22T15:55:00.001-05:00

Inhale...

(hold it for a sec...)

Exhale.

Finally I have a moment and the prerequisite clarity of mind to sit down and summarize the last few weeks. Sheesh... Guess it's been a month since I last posted... It's kind of all been a blur, really. I've had a few notes from friends asking, "Are you okay? You haven't blogged in a while!" That kind of makes me laugh a bit, but it's also kind of shocking that so much time has passed since I've had much of an opportunity to do reflect in this venue. I did sit down once or twice to type, just to be interrupted or to run out of time (or the aforementioned clarity of mind) before I could finish the thread of thought. It's just been a crazy month since my last post. Here are some "news briefs" to summarize.

The "Sisters By Heart" event on May 1 was an amazing experience. I'm pretty comfortable in front of a "crowd", typically-- I lead worship almost weekly at my church, I've "performed" in bands and various groups on stage, and the high school sports in which I participated were a pretty big deal in the community I grew up in, always drawing a crowd. I even spoke at my high school graduation. But delivering a "message" is a completely different ballgame, and it was quite an eye-opening experience for me. (Props to Ronn and my other pastor-friends who do this on a regular basis!) The study, prayer, and meditation in preparation was great for my mind, and the night of the event was good for my heart. After stuttering and stumbling through the first thirty seconds or so, I got into my groove (and my outline) and just shared what was on my heart-- what God has been teaching me. I know some of the ladies who were there read this blog, so to them I say a great big, "thanks again! It was a truly awesome time!" I got a little long-winded (I know... BIG shocker!), and went about 15 minutes over my "target" time during the message... and the Q & A was a lot more A than Q. (Ronn even warned me about this in his little "pep talk" he gave me while I was preparing.) But overall, I was just humbled and encouraged by the discussion that went on. And of course, the objective was met-- that is, God was glorified. Here's a link to the audio of the message and the Q & A. Well over an hour in total, just to warn you. (Feel free to skip the stumbling and stuttering first 30 seconds.) :) That evening, as it turns out, was just the beginning of an action-packed weekend that kicked off this crazy bunch of weeks... (And that's what they call in the Industry, "foreshadowing")...

We wrapped things up in Ohio about 11pm that Friday night, and before 7am on Saturday I was at the starting line for the Indy 500 Festival Half-Marathon (downtown Indianapolis-- 3+ hours away from Wauseon, OH). I'd never done THAT before, either. A weekend of firsts, I guess. I did pretty well, considering my lack of talent, experience, and sleep the night before. Beat my "goal". (I'm not much of a goal-setter, but in this case, I was quite pleased with myself.) I'm not sure if it's actually physically possible for a person to run his or her legs off-- like, actually so they detach from the body-- but I met up in Indy with 34,999 other crazy people on May 2 to try to give it the ol' college try. What an experience! I even got to kiss the "Brick Yard" (finish line at the Motor Speedway), which marked the half-way point of the 13.1 mile course.

So, with our legs barely attached, on Sunday Katie (who also ran the "Mini") and I met up with her sisters, bro's-in-law, and some friends at her townhouse in Broad Ripple. In the weeks leading up to the Mini, Katie had been busy landing a job in St. Charles, IL... and then an apartment in Aurora (only 15 minutes from TJ and me)... And on Sunday we packed all of her earthly possessions into a moving van and relocated her to the greater Chicagoland area. She's a local now!

The last couple of weeks has been a "settling in" process for us all. Katie's got a 40 minute commute to/from her new job, sans traffic. So in addition to "the daily grind", she's trying to figure out a routine that allows for exercise, regular "bonding" time with TJ and me (dinner, evenings, whenever we can get it in), keeping an apartment, and some occasional socializing and relationship building with some new friends. (Thank you women of CrossTown for reaching out and loving her the way you have these past weeks!) This is a HUGE move for her-- new work, a new home, a new city, new friends... And of course, this process of growing into a "new life" with TJ and me. I mentioned at the top that I tried to blog once or twice these last several weeks. Well, I did manage to patchwork together one post, written in several installments, in which I reflect a little bit more on this "process". It needs to be updated a bit, but I will post it soon. We're just being taught so much each day, as we seek God's will in our relationship. Whew... more on that in weeks to come...

On top of all that, work has been "active" for me, too. Work is going very well-- business is coming along nicely. We just moved our local offices from Schaumburg to Itasca in the past few weeks, which is quite a process in and of itself. Meanwhile, I've been traveling a bit more than normal, lately, which is always stressful on things at home. Things seem to be calming down a bit now-- or at least settling into some sort of "equilibrium"-- but these are all just things that add to the "blur" of the past month.

Oh. And my fridge blew up. 100% food loss. (including the frozen goods.) So that took some time cleaning up... Upside is that I got a GREAT deal on my SWEET replacement, which is being delivered tonight.

Oh. And my air conditioner broke. Just got fixed this afternoon. (Total damages this week, right around... well... more than I want to remember right now...)

Oh. And it's yardwork season again. The rainy spring has made for some beautiful green lawns... that need frequent mowing. And my fence needs repairing. And my landscaping needs cleaning up. And so-on.

So there you go. That's what I've "been up to". There's my excuse for my absence from this blogspot, these past weeks. There is so much I'm learning, so much worthy of some time and effort to try to wrap some words around the truth that God is revealing these days... The love He's pouring into me. So, take a deep breath with me. Ahhhhhh.... And stay tuned!

"Dancing With God"-- an Invitation

2009-04-22T11:20:00.003-05:00

Who: All women, High School through "Golden Girls"
What: "Dancing With God"-- the fourth and final installment of a serial women's conference entitled "Sisters By Heart", which began in November of 2008.
When: Friday Night, May 1, 2009. 7pm to 10pm EDT.
Where: Oasis Christian Fellowship, 400 Enterprise Ave., Wauseon, OH
Cost: Free!

Program:

7:00 – Worship
7:35 – Laughter & Snacks
8:15 – Special Speaker: Tyson Aschliman
8:45 – Snacks and Q & A with Tyson
9:20 – Worship

A dear friend of Leslie-- and a fellow cancer warrior-- named Jessie called me several weeks back and asked if I'd be interested in speaking at her church's upcoming women's event. Yes, I first got a chuckle out of that too. It's seldom a good thing to be the only man in a room full of women. But the more I talked to Jessie, and heard her heart and what this thing was all about, I was indeed honored to be asked. And now I'm just plain excited about the whole thing.

These women have been exploring what an intimate relationship with God looks like, through the eyes of "today's woman". And, of course... what an intimate relationship with God looks like to God. It's impossible to summarize the powerful truth and heart-rending grace that has been exposed and explored among these "Sisters By Heart" over the past six months, but the organizer of the event gives it an excellent effort in a single sentence: "Freedom in Forgiveness (Nov.) leads me to experience more Peace (Jan) so that I can Hear from God (Mar) ... then I will Dance with God." Wow. Now THERE's a mouthful.

So I am honored to be speaking on this concept of "Dancing With God" on Friday May 1. The more I think and pray and read scriptures on the topic, the more my heart is stirred, because it is basically the essence of everything I've learned and lived for the past couple of years. I've said frequently that "Leslie taught me how to love. She taught me how to die. She taught me how to truly live." That is her ministry-- and not just to me, but to so many of you, as well. Well, the more I think about it, the more I realize that I can summarize what she taught me in this: "Through everything, I have learned to dance with God."

I shared at her memorial services that Leslie learned the hard way that the answer to every "WHY?" that can be asked is a very simple (but not easy) answer: To bring glory to God. Or, in a word... WORSHIP. The greatest command, according to Jesus, is to LOVE the LORD your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. Which, not coincidentally, is the very definition of worship... to love the Lord with everything you've got. Everything you are. Worship is the expression of our love and honor of God. And when I think of the ultimate act of expression, I think of dancing. Movement set to music. A person's whole self engaging without hinderence or inhibition in the simple task of self-expression.

Dancing can be a remarkably sacred and intimate act-- as newlyweds and their "first dance" at the wedding reception. And it can be a powerful act of celebration and joy-- as the wedding party and guests get their collective groove on later on the same night. There are dances of mourning-- "dirges". There is a dance for every season of the human soul.

The very interaction of God and mankind can be summarized in the following metaphor: The Cross was the act of God Himself filling the room with music, clearing the crowded floor, walking across the room, and asking His bride-to-be once and for all, "May I have this dance?"

So, who feels like dancing? Come and join us at Oasis in Wauseon, OH on Monday May 1 as we explore what an intimate dance with God looks like. I've got two left feet, as anyone who's seen me dance will tell you. But as long as I've got feet, they will be set to dancing.

Conquered the Grave

2009-04-11T23:56:00.003-05:00

Ask TJ why tomorrow is so special, and he'll tell you with an excited smile, "Because Jesus conquered the grave!" He of course is quoting his (and his mom's) favorite worship song-- "Mighty to Save". Oh, the child-like faith! TJ is absolutely STOKED for Easter. Sure, the egg hunt and dinner with the cousins after church get him excited... but more than that, he gets to sit with Gram and Gramps tomorrow and worship with us, as we celebrate the Resurrection. The advent of our faith. The event that gave us the hope we now have. The peace that we can let settle upon us when we remember Leslie... the anticipation of meeting her one day again. Tomorrow we celebrate our faith in the One to Whom we are redeemed. Today. Forever.

Friday was about a cross. A crown of thorns. Friday night's service moved me deeply in to a tearful place of pain and repentance. I thought of death. I thought of Leslie's death. Of the fate the God-Man gave Himself to, willingly, that Leslie could have hope throughout her own battle... throughout her journey toward her own "empty tomb". Katie's sister Sarah-- profoundly enough-- just celebrated her 4th "birthday" in Heaven, on Good Friday this year. Katie wrestles with the emotional complexity of death, suffering, pain, resurrection, hope, and faith on her blog Friday night.

Good Friday. What an ironic concept. What's "GOOD" about a man suffering in pain and humiliation on the epitome of evil symbols-- that horribly human torture device... that cross... GOOD Friday?! What is GOOD about dying? Certainly we can say, "she's not suffering anymore". At least there's that... But at its very basic level, death is anything but good. In fact, the opposite of good. Anything that is not good is evil. Evil leads to death. ("for the wages of sin...") Sin-- DEATH-- is really what that cross is about.

The perfect man-- in His very nature, fully GOD-- knows death. He volunteered for it. Humbled Himself to it. So that He could stand there with outstretched arms, welcoming His children home. We are all dying. Some don't realize it until moments before we breathe our last. But indeed, the plight of man is that our days our numbered. However, because Jesus did what He did, no one ever again-- in that moment in which death falls upon them, nor anywhere in the "life process" leading up to that moment-- can ever again call out, "My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?" Jesus died that no one would again be forsaken at the hand of death.

Yes, Good Friday-- this year, more than any other in my own life-- was about death. Death of Jesus. Death of Leslie. Death of Sarah. The eventual death of even me. Yet, as I poured myself into that night of communion, I couldn't shake this mysterious hope... that the perfect plan-- the purpose-- of this cross and the death it represents, isn't really about the end of a life. It's about the death of SIN... The death of DEATH itself.

I will praise my Savior tomorrow, with all I have within me, that, while Friday was about a bloody cross, SUNDAY, my friends... SUNDAY is about an EMPTY TOMB!! It's tomorrow, Easter... Resurrection Sunday... that JESUS CONQUERED THE GRAVE! Leslie knows that truth more than ever this night. So do I-- though surely not to the extent that she does.

Friday, my sin-- my self-- was laid bare. Crucified with Jesus on the Cross. Tomorrow... In a few short hours, I will raise my arms and open my hands and receive the fullness of life that results. I will drink of His Resurrection. I will testify to the redemption of His people. I will join with the Heavens-- the angels and those whom, like Leslie, have gone before us-- and all creation and proclaim our RISEN LORD!

Enjoy this Easter, friends. For tomorrow is the single day that represents the very essence of joy in this life... that empty tomb.

Confession, Redemption, and the Earthen Vessel

2009-04-01T14:13:00.003-05:00

I have a confession to make. I have something I need to make right. I have truth to share that I have hidden. “Hide it under a bushel, NO! I’m gonna let it shine…” TJ sings from time to time.

This whole blog thing is founded on a simple philosophy to which I espouse in all my relationships: that the truth offered in love is never a bad thing. Leslie and I chose to live transparently and open up an honest dialogue for the entire world to witness as you so desired, as together we faced the battle for her very life. We exposed our weakness, brokenness, frustration, fear, and pain. We rejoiced in the answered prayers, encouragement, quiet joy, and senseless peace. We explored the complex truth that, in all things-- indeed, even in intense suffering-- God is good. ("ALL the time!") And God was glorified in all of it. It was Leslie’s ministry. It is a ministry I have felt compelled to maintain in her absence. The idea is that if one walks in the light, one has nothing to hide. And when light exposes the truth within the human soul, God will be known... and He will therefore glorified.

“The great thing about the blog,” Ronn said to me on Sunday, “is that it’s real. Raw. From when you first started it, until now. You allow people to come alongside of you and see everything as you see it. To witness things as they are, without apology or translation... you just say, ‘This is what God’s doing, as crazy as it is.’ Tyson, don’t be afraid to share the good stuff with the same kind of raw transparency. Don’t be afraid to share God’s goodness in His blessings, along with His faithfulness through trial and suffering.”

My friends, I confess it is all too easy to share with you and focus on the emotional struggles and burdens that TJ and I (along with Leslie’s friends and family) experience on a weekly basis, all the while giving praise and glory to God for His faithfulness and goodness in the midst of those trials. And I have a sense that’s probably the stuff many of you expect—even want—to read. People want to know that I’m "suffering well". "Grieving well". Continuing to praise God “in the storm”. Certainly, I have grieved deeply—although it has looked nothing like I thought it would. Indeed everyone's grief takes a different form, and it's not something a person necessarily chooses. And the truth is that I am not the only one who lost Leslie. Just take a look at my “birthday” post. 100 comments and counting. What a testament to God’s wonderful gift to us all in His child Leslie! What an amazing woman! While I am encouraged deeply by all those comments, my heart is constantly burdened with the grief of Dana, Mom, Leslie’s family, her friends… I see it on the faces of the loved ones who miss her deeply. I read the words of anonymous strangers who never met her, and yet feel they have lost a dear friend and sister. And I have realized that I’ve been falsely assuming responsibility for the “grieving process” of the masses. It has prevented me from walking in the light, with freedom to proclaim the goodness of God—more concrete evidence of His faithfulness… that indeed, though the sorrow may last for the night, His joy DOES truly come in the morning. Friends, I’m seeing the sunrise. And it is foolishness for me to try to conceal it.

Last Tuesday I talked to Mom and Dana. I told them how much I love them. I told them how much I loved their Leslie. And then I told them something else. And now I’m bringing the thought into this venue. I’ve reached a startling realization… In the name of “sensitivity” and “compassion for those hurting”, I’ve not fully expressed the goodness of the blessings that God is pouring into my life… Namely… I have not truly shared with you the miracle of Katie.

Sure, I blogged about her here and there. But I haven’t really done justice-- in this venue and in other relationships with people who loved and miss Leslie-- to the fullness of God’s “redemption story”, which He is powerfully writing in my life. Katie has literally been a miraculous blessing of grace and loving kindness in my day-to-day life. She is my redemption. My new life. My "today". Why, if I’ve written in full transparency and honesty in all the “hard times”, would I not be all the more eager to share the miraculous blessings that have come along the way? In my sensitivity to others and in the burden of my perceived expectation of the masses of what “grieving” should look like in the life of a man in my situation, I have somehow tried to hide or temper the goodness that God is blessing me with in my daily life.

I am in love, friends. With a woman who God seems to have been preparing—as unlikely as it may seem—for me.You might ask, “How?” How is it possible? How can he just "move on" like that? Indeed, many friends and family members have asked, “What is it like, Ty? I mean… aren’t you constantly comparing her to Leslie? What is it like to be with someone else… in a relationship?” It’s a legitimate question. Let me try to answer as best I can.

What is the part of a person that contains love for another in this life? It's not the heart-- that's a physical organ that pumps blood through the body. I can't say for sure it's the soul-- we don't take our marriages to Heaven with us (as hard as that fact is for many of us to accept). It's not the mind-- not a mere emotion or thought. Not the body-- it's not just a "feeling" or "sensation". It's something more... For our purposes (because it fits the analogy so wonderfully), we'll just refer to it as this "vessel". The vessels of Leslie's and my love were formed from the very stuff that we were both made up of-- and were in time formed into "one". It was beautifully and masterfully shaped by the Potter Himself, and was constantly poured out into each other and filled back up by this Potter. It was its own unique shape and size. Indeed, there were difficulties that would arise through the years, the stress of which would cause a crack in the vessel. In prayer and faith and commitment to one another, we would rely on the Potter to do His necessary repairs. This process would lead inevitably to a stronger, bigger, more beautiful vessel. All the more glorifying to Him.

Well, on July 26, 2008, this vessel wasn't just cracked. It was shattered. All the love it contained was spilled out like wine on the floor when the waiter drops the uncorked bottle.

Obliterated. Irreparable. Without Leslie here to live it with, our earthly love relationship ceased to exist. It was no longer a partnership. No longer a marriage. It was a remnant. Incomplete. Expired. Only shattered bits and pieces remained.

As if that wasn't enough for a vessel to have to endure, the Potter was only getting started with having His way with the mess that remained. First, He went about picking up the pieces of the vessel, (He never lost a single sliver, compassionate and sovereign as He is), and then after He gathered the pieces, He laid them out to dry on His workbench. He then took out his first tool—no, not a bottle of glue. Not a pair of tweezers. Nor some new clay with which He could go about piecing the shattered vessel back together... No, He took out a hammer. He went to work crushing the remnants of this vessel into a fine, dry dust. No piece was left uncrushed. Only a pile of earthen powder remained. Then, He left His workmanship—pathetic mess that it was—laying there for a time... Until He saw fit to take His next creative action. (By the way, for those of you "tracking" with the story at this point, I have learned with all certainty that there is no consistency as to what kind of timeline God deems necessary. There is no quota or number of days or months or years. He will simply move when He chooses to move. Not a minute sooner. Not a second later. The trick is, being the subject of His creative moving—that pathetic pile of dust that I am—to neither delay nor rush His timing. This is a challenge that requires constant prayer, vicious faith, and a whole lot of His grace. And don't think for a minute that this truth only applies to grieving and "moving on".)

So, what is His next creative action? He is moved to tears.

In my case, I recall the moment. (That "Shower Prayer", as I've come to know it, a couple months after Leslie died, as reflected upon in this blog months later.) He is moved in His compassion, recalling His own life on the earth-- the trial, the abandonment, the burden, the pain, the cross-- and the tears fall onto the workbench, soaking the pile of dust which is all that is left of the original vessel. He begins to work the resulting mud with His hands again... soon, a new lump of clay is before Him. (You now may see where this is going.)

The Potter throws the newly tear-wetted clay back onto the wheel, and He spins it. He shapes and forms and molds and loves this new vessel, with all the care that He did the first. And all the creativity, as well, for this new vessel is a completely different shape, size and form than its predecessor. Or rather... it is different than it was the first time around. (For is it, really, a completely and differently new vessel, after all? Isn't it made of the very stuff from which the first one was fashioned?) But it's not the same vessel... it is renewed.

Redeemed.

When this renewed, reformed vessel is again filled up by the Potter, it is as if it has never been filled before... like the new wineskin. It is a new shape. A different size. A different vessel. But it is something even more beautiful, for it is made up of the very stuff-- the wisdom, maturity, experience, the memories-- from which the "old wineskin" was made... that first vessel, complete with all its tempering, patched cracks, and character.

Friends, I can't explain "how" or "why". Indeed, the more something can be fully explained by man, the less likely it is fully of God, amen? Who, after all, can fathom His ways? Who can explain the will and plan of the Almighty? Who can wrap their arms around the love of the Father? Who can know the suffering-- and resulting grace-- of the Savior? My attempt at explaining this miracle is like my attempts at worship... The more perfect and beautiful my song, the more humbled I am at how far it falls short of that of which He is truly worthy. Or, it's like science. The more we seek out and learn about creation-- from the expanses of the universe to the finest details of cell structures-- the more we realize how little it is we actually know. How little we can control.

This is the metaphor—this earthen vessel—that keeps popping into my mind as I try to make sense of the miracle of Katie in my life. Still, it’s unfathomable. The intense joy—even happiness—we’re experiencing. How everything is so new, like I've never been here before. But how in every moment I am entirely aware of the life I have lost (or is it "gained"?) with Leslie. The complexity... And the timing! Not at all what I expected, asked for, or even hoped for. But we can’t deny His goodness. His blessings.

Certainly, it is hard. For her. For me. We were just talking last week about this. I said to her, “Katie, you’re crazy. You realize that, right? I mean… you choose to be here. In this ‘first year’, and all the tough things I’ve got to face. And you stay here at my side as I experience all the firsts. The anniversary. The birthday. You know, I’d wait for you. If you said, ‘call me this time next year’, I would. But you are choosing to be here with me now.”

“It takes an amazing woman to do that,” several in my family have said to me. Well, she is an amazing woman-- seemingly shaped and molded by the hand of the Almighty, “for such a time as this”. For me. Crazy thing is… I'm realizing that God has also been molding and shaping and preparing me for her, throughout the course of my life, including these last couple of years. It’s hard to wrap your head around, I know. But again… that should be of no surprise to any of us, if it’s truly of God. This, my friends, is the redemption story-- the miraculous healing-- that you’ve all been praying for. It’s not at all what you thought it would look like. Not at all what I thought I was asking for. Not what I desired in the moment of those tear-soaked prayers of pleading. Yet somehow... it's exactly what we were asking for all along. That’s how God has worked throughout history. (The Pharisees were indeed hoping and praying for the coming of the Messiah, but couldn’t recognize Him when He stood right in front of their very eyes, even though He was fulfilling every messianic prophecy ever uttered. They just expected something different.) Yes, we’re in love. Yes, I am eternally thankful for Leslie. (So is Katie!) Yes, it is “soon”. But, it is what it is. Or rather, God is Who He is.

I’ll close with this, because it is a powerful symbol of all the complexities and beauty that this new love brings to life each day, and it will allow me to share a little more of this woman-- this miracle-- with you all. I think it will give you all a wonderful little glimpse into the powerful and beautiful and mysterious ways in which God is working here...

Katie wrote a “birthday” note to Leslie. She didn’t post it on the blog "e-card", because she didn’t want to draw undue attention to herself, or to stifle the conversation. But she sent it to me, my sister, my mom-in-law (who sent it to Dana), and Anna. Here and now, I share it with you all...

--------------------

Hi there. I wanted to send this to you four. All of you have intricate places in my heart, I have your emails, and I know that the road incorporating me into Tyson's and TJ's life has not been easy. It's a complex road of healing. Anyway, with the recent blog post I did not want to deter from the comments. So here is my birthday wish/note to Leslie. Vicki, I haven't known how to communicate my love and thankfulness to you. Thank you for your note and your prayers. They mean so so much to me. I think that my thanking Leslie will be a good way for you to know my heart in all of this.

Leslie-

I know you have heard my heart in prayers to God; in thankfulness for letting me share in "your life" that you left on earth. You have heard my cries for understanding that you really are "ok" with this. That it is something you are happy with. And with confirmations and dreams and visions thank you for giving me just that.

Today, my sweet friend, I want to wish you the happiest of birthdays. As Tyson and TJ celebrate at Red Lobster, I am celebrating in my heart and probably with Anna as I see her tonight. There are just a few things on this very special occasion I want to tell you.

Oh the blog... you ministered and are ministering greatly through it. So thank you for writing during those hard weeks and months on your blog. As I go back and read the whole thing through, the hardest parts for my eyes to read are what you wrote. I stand in awe of how God strengthened you, in your innermost being, during those days. Thank you for your vulnerability. Thank you for living your life, very openly, with thousands. I assure you not one heart who has read your words has gone untouched.

As far as memories... babysitting TJ, learning to "swaddle" him, and hanging out with you at the lake house all stick out in my mind. I remember sitting at Anna's kitchen table, talking about my upcoming trip to Kenya, you picking on Robbie, and just laughing at him. I think he ate too much ice cream, and complained when you had warned him not to because you knew his reaction. Typical. Thank you for letting me babysit TJ. You knew I could, and you saw my love for him early on. Thank you for your trust and even joy in that.

I cannot begin to thank you enough for your friendship with Anna. I would say there hasn't been a friend like you in her life. One who understood her inside and out; who sharpened her and encouraged her the way you did. Anna always tells me stories of how you understood Robbie, and she understood Tyson in some situations. I know that was helpful for both of you in your marriages. It was a huge blessing to Anna in how you offered consistency in friendship; even after you moved to Chicago. When she became friends with you it was as if God breathed new life into her. Someone who understood her, "spoke her language", and spoke into her life in a God-breathed way. You met Anna where she was, and loved her in it. You understood the dark places that sometimes draw her down, and YOU were a vessel of hope for her; and still are. Thank you for loving my sister so well in some of her darkest times. You have made an imprint on her as a mom. I know you learned from Dana, who probably learned from your mom, but know that those valuable lessons have stuck with Anna. And now... Anna teaches others. Laura's pregnant Les! Isn't that crazy??? So your legacy in her life will continue on, and on, and on...

Thank you for loving my family. I know you loved every member, and well. Thank you for coming to Sarah's memorial service and walking the road of suffering with us. Your love in that time will never be forgotten. My parents miss you very much.

And now... I'm sure you know it's coming and I know it's with a smile on your face that it does... thank you for sharing Tyson and TJ with me. They both give me so much joy. As you visited me in my dream, with symbolic moments of sharing two pieces of chocolate, my heart was drawn to worship. "Katie- let's share them. You can have half and I'll have half." Not understanding the significance in the dream, when I woke up. After prayer and talks with Anna and Tyson, I realized you were giving me the "ok" to "share" Tyson and TJ. Thank you. It brings tears to my eyes again remembering that moment in my dream. You were so real. Happy yet somber.

You are home. Your joy has been made complete. You are whole. As I walk this broken road, as I go through life's unknowns, Tyson is an instrument of hope for me. He is to me, what you were and are to Anna. He gets me Leslie; and that is not without your mark. He is who he is because he was married to you. I will never let that go unacknowledged. I will always be thankful for the life he had with you, because that is the only Tyson I know and will ever know. YOUR Tyson. The Tyson that God put you with for 8 years. Thank you. Thank you for saying yes to him when he asked for your hand in marriage. I wouldn't have the joy in his friendship I have now, if not for you. Thank you for sharing your son with me. Thank you for sitting alongside Jesus as He has intricately worked love in their hearts for me and in mine for them. Thank you for making them who they are. Thank you for helping shape Tyson as the man of God he is. Thank you for leaving your mark on TJ; for raising him the way you did; for loving him the way you did; for making him one of the sweetest boys in the entire world.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for walking in freedom in Christ. Thank you for living boldly in the face of cancer. Thank you for loving me while you were here, and thank you for participating in the orchestration of my relationship with the family that you left.

I treasure you. I will never forget you. You will live in in my heart, and my family's heart, always. Happy Birthday. I am so glad you were born.

With all the love and thankfulness and humility in my heart,

Katie

Join the Party

2009-03-27T09:09:00.003-05:00

Wow. Thanks everyone. THAT was amazing. I talked to several of Leslie's family and friends, and we have been extremely blessed and encouraged with the outpouring of love and compassion this week. Many tears, many laughs... Shared with SO many people. Thanks for the stories, old friends, and thanks for your compassion, new friends and "strangers". I am truly humbled... I had not expected that kind of response. Thank you all.

Several of those great stories were shared by a group of ladies that had a special place in Leslie's heart. A group of friends from her high school days-- the ones talking about her convertible (DA BUCH) and all other kinds of craziness that might just be news to Leslie's parents... (the convertible ending up in a cornfield one night comes to mind... I believe when Leslie told me that story, she specifically noted that Dad never knew about it.) Anyway, this group of girls came up to me 8 months ago at one of Leslie's memorial services and made a commitment-- they would get together every year to remember "the good ol' days"... to remember Leslie, to love on each other, to share laughter and tears. And they determined that the annual event which would be the venue for this get-together would be the Washington, IL Relay for Life. (American Cancer Society)

Now, while I'm all about charitable giving, I'm admittedly not one who gets into "fund-raising". I can't remember EVER pushing a cause before... Well... This might be the only cause I'll ever pitch, and fittingly so.

DeLene, Julie, Elisa, Sarah, and the gang (if I didn't mention your name, girls, that's my shout out to JOIN THE TEAM or DONATE!! And yes, I KNOW who you are!)-- along with Leslie's family and a couple of our friends-- have started a Relay for Life team in Leslie's honor. You can support our cause by clicking on the following link and clicking on the DONATE button:

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY09IL?team_id=449254&pg=team&fr_id=15076

One of the really cool things about ACS and Relay for Life (in my mind... I tend to pay close attention to this kind of thing) is the fact that 75% of donations go directly to fund cancer treatment and research programs. Only the remaining 25% goes to the infrastructure and adminsitrative costs to support ACS (so they can continue pushing 75% of everything they get into their actual cause). That's a great ratio for such a large organization. (One to which our government and churches should espouse, if you ask me.)

Anyway, if your heart feels so led, consider joining the Walking Warriors and donate, will you? In honor of Leslie. In honor of your loved one who has battled. It's just another great way to join this little party we started last week. (In case you're wondering, over 1500 unique visitors have partied with us in the past week, viewed the blog, left comments, etc... Representing 44 states and 21 countries worldwide.)

Thanks again for joining us in celebrating Leslie. And for considering donating-- a "birthday gift" of sorts.

Birthday eCard

2009-03-17T08:42:00.000-05:00

A little less than 24 hours until what would have been Leslie's 33rd birthday. I would have given her a hard time about being TWO YEARS older than me, as I always did on that day, and that nonsense would continue for the next couple of weeks or so until I could no loner claim such a thing. It's been on my mind, to be sure. But every "first" that passes becomes more manageable, as God continues to heal and unveil the blessings of the new life he's set before us. Peace abounds rather than emotional burden. Happy memories and smiles fill the quiet spaces of the day rather than tears and questions. (More on the smiles and memories in a minute...) But to be sure, this "birthday week" has been on our minds.

Not sure how or why, exactly-- I don't think anyone said anything to him-- but TJ asked me tonight, "Dad, when is my mom's next birthday going to be?" I stopped in my tracks. We were just putting away the drumset to clear the floor for our baseball game, and it was just spontaneous and rather matter-of-fact. I asked him if Mimi had mentioned something to him about Mommy's birthday. (My mom has been in town helping out since mid-last week, with Miss Liz on Spring Break, TJ being sick-- ear infection now that he's kicked the puke virus, and things pretty crazy for me at work.) He assured me that no one had told him about his Mom's birthday, and just seemed rather surprised and curious at my response. It just seemed to him like a normal question to ask me, after all.

I sat down on the basement stairs and had him sit on my lap. I told him that Mommy's birthday was in 2 days-- on Wednesday. "Oh, I think they're going to have a GREAT BIG party for her in HEAVEN!" He said. I agreed, and told him it would be an extra special one because it was her first birthday in Heaven. He got all excited and asked rhetorically if we could go to the party. I said, "TJ, you know that we can't go to Heaven until Jesus is ready to come get us, and it might be a very long time. We probably won't go this week. But when we do go, we'll have LOTS of birthday parties for Mommy to get caught up on all the ones we missed while she was there without us." He smiled and did an excited little dance, quite pleased with this explanation. Then, we began to plan our own little birthday party for Mommy, just TJ and me. We're going to Red Lobster. (It's been his favorite special treat lately-- yes, the kid LOVES lobster... I know... I'm creating some sort of monster... It will be his second trip there in a week. He suckered Mimi into taking him once when I was away on business last week.) We're going to eat lobster and we'll have them bring a birthday cake and sing happy birthday to Mommy with us. (Seriously, they'd be cold-hearted or just plain dumb not to, at such a request, right? I mean, the kid can be VERY persuasive!) I assured him that Mommy would be able to see our little party and it would make her very happy that we're having birthday cake with her, while she's having her party in Heaven.

So, that's how TJ and I are celebrating Leslie's 33rd birthday. Now, here's your opportunity to join the fun. I'm inviting every reader of this blog to post a comment. I seldom give a shout-out for comments. But I'd like to just honor Leslie in this way. Some of you have never met Leslie. But she means something to you... You know her story, you are living her legacy. Tell her (by clicking on "comments" below) what she means to you. Those of you that knew her, share a memory. Tell a story, or share something about her that you truly appreciate. I believe she can read-- or feel, or somehow know-- these comments as you share... carried up on the wings of angels, perhaps... like some sort of Heaven-bound birthday card or e-greeting or something.

Let me start by sharing a brief memory... Of when I first met Leslie...

She was a Psychology major at good ol' Taylor U. in Indiana. I was a Psych. minor, so we had a few classes together. She'd "caught my eye" as they say, and I got up the courage to ask her on a "study date" before a mid-term one semester. To say we hit it off would be... well... an outright lie. Oil and water. No chemistry. I thought she had a chip on her shoulder and was hard to get to know. She thought I was a cocky punk with an attitude problem. (She was probably not far off.) That was that. I'm not sure if we ever spoke again...

...Until a couple of years later, after we both graduated and happened to both move to Indianapolis... Where we bumped into each other at a party... And were married about 18 months later. My, how a little "coming-of-age" can change one's perspective! Or two people's perspective.

So... What's your "Leslie story"? Join with me in celebrating Leslie on her birthday.

----------------------
PS. Just found out this morning that my book proposal for Leslie's Journey is being presented to publishers in the coming week(s). If you think of it, I could truly use some prayer, that God would open and shut doors and make His desires known as to which direction we should go with this. Let the adventure begin! Or continue, I guess...

Having a TJ Day

2009-03-11T13:13:00.023-05:00

I've talked in the past about TJ and I occasionally having a "Mommy day". Well, for me, today's a TJ day. Dana called me at the office a couple of hours after I dropped him off this morning. He was throwing up. I wasn't really that surprised. He wasn't himself last night--not lethargic, but rather restless and edgy, actually-- and looked a bit pasty, but denied feeling sick when I asked. Maybe he was just trying to convince himself...
So I'm back at home with him now. We just finished watching the Jungle Book (his favorite movie these days, although I believe this is the first time he's had the patience to watch the whole thing start-to-finish in one sitting). He really only watches TV when he's sick or very tired. (Or, as I've mentioned before, it's The Wiggles or a sporting event-- but that's not as much "watching" TV as it "doing" TV. He does all the Wiggles' dances and can't watch a sport without simultaneously playing it.)

Anyway, The Jungle Book is over now, and he's held down about 3 ounces of Sprite and a cup of jello. So far so good. He's fast asleep on the make-shift bed I've made him on the floor of our newly refurbished bathroom on the main floor, where I can keep an eye on him as I fiddle with work stuff in the living room. Bathroom floor beds are a special treat when he's sick. He loves "camping out" on the floor for naps, and he's so good at puking into the toilet all by himself, so it's a pretty good arrangement for everybody. I make sure I'm there when I hear that tell-tale whimper which forecasts another bout... I sympathetically cheer him on and rub his back and tell him how brave he is. But he does it all by himself. Wakes up from his nap, lifts the lid, does his duty, and rinses out his mouth with Sprite afterward. (He knows not to swallow until his tummy settles back down a little.)

The day is rather fitting of these past weeks, really. My mind and heart have been so completely full of him, and we've had a lot more "down-time" to spend together as well. I mean, he's bringing me so much joy. I'm learning so much from him. He's been so happy. I've mentioned to various people lately that he really seems to have turned a corner from those "terrible threes" I blogged about a month or so back. He's hardly had any "melt-downs", and when he does start to "go there", it's only a small inkling of the magnitude of the events they used to be. He has been obedient, kind, playing well with others, and extremely lovey... Cuddly, kissy, verbally expressive... "I love you, Daddy!" Spontaneous proclamations of his passionate adoration. I feel like I could just burst with all the love that it builds inside me. The most amazing attribute of his that's really starting to blossom is his inquisitiveness. The kid doesn't miss a THING. And he has this insatiable desire to KNOW the ins-and-outs of everything his mind stumbles across. The lady sitting two tables over from us at Panera on Monday night couldn't hide her amusement with the discussion, even though she tried-- she looked almost apologetic when I caught her chuckling at us, as she was trying hard not to eaves drop on our conversation.

"Daddy, can I please have a great-big piece of your bread?" (He's got me well trained not to be stingy with my sharing of the sourdough baggette that comes with my meal.)

"Sure, buddy. Here, you can dip it in this." I handed him a generous chunk of my baguette and a little cup of salad dressing that I had served on the side.
"Is that salad dressing yummy on my bread?" He asked, tempted to try something new.

"Yes, it's very yummy, see?" I dipped a piece of my bread and ate it, with a dramatic, "Mmmmmmm!!"

"Mmm! It is good!" He tried it himself. "Why is it so yummy on my bread if it's for your salad?" He asked.

"Well, it's kind of like how you like to dip your carrots in ranch dressing. It's just made up of good stuff like olive oil and garlic and..."

"Daddy?" He interrupted, apparently satisfied with the answer to his previous inquisition.

"Yes, TJ?"

"Why do other people like to eat at Panera like us?" He was observing the growing line at the counter.

"Well, they have really good food, here, TJ. And it's healthy food, too."

"You mean like your salad and my grilled cheese?"

"That's right, buddy. Our food is yummy and healthy too."

"Why is it healthy?"

"Well, it's made up of healthy things, like veggetables and good chicken, and good fresh bread."

"Why are those things healthy?" He truly wanted to know, and wasn't asking to be difficult... even though I confess, at times my patience wears thin.

"Because they're good for you." Indeed, my patience was wearing thin, in this case, as amused as I was.

"Why are they good for you?"

"Because they're healthy."

"Why are they healthy, though?!"

"Because they're good for you!" (This is a little trick I employ whenever I've had enough of a particular topic.) Just before he got frustrated enough to call me onto the carpet for the mean little trick I was playing, we heard the chuckle from the quiet lady two seats over.

"Daddy, why is that lady laughing at us?"

"Because she thinks you're funny, TJ." I answered, as I gave an understanding smile to the lady.

"But why does she think I'm funny?"

And the conversation goes on...

...and on...
...and on...

...All day, every day. And you know what? I love every minute of it... Even when my patience grows thin, I'm just constantly overwhelmed with amazement, compassion, and thankfulness for this little person. I am so thankful for how God is providing for his needs-- comforting his little heart; giving him safe "places" to find security and nurturing that his Mommy no longer is able to provide in person; allowing our relationship to just grow in trust, companionship, laughter, and love. Still, it is hard for me not to just worry-- or even hurt for him sometimes.

I was just watching him eat his dinner last night. (Special treat-- Chuck E. Cheese!) (As an aside, it was actually an impromptu decision... an excuse to get out of traffic in Naperville on the drive home-- with all the flooding we've had, the Wheaton-to-Bolingbrook evening commute has been horrible. Just as I started to feel the road rage creep in, I saw a smiling Chuck E. waving at me from a marquee just ahead. I baled. Traded in my frustration for a headache. TJ was quite pleased with the decision, at least.) But he was just so happy, as I watched him there eating his pizza and broccoli. (I know, the sign on the salad bar says "NO SHARING"... So sue me. Or start offering some decent greens on the kids menu!) Anyway, TJ was just watching all the flashing lights and action, looking out for Chuck E. so he could give him "five" again. As "into" everything as he is-- never sitting still, always figuring something out or imagining or experiencing something to its fullest-- he just seems so content. As I said, I thank God for this. And I thank all those who have risen to the occasion to help meet his needs, by the grace of God, as I will be the first to confess I cannot do it on my own. But sometimes I just fight this deep sadness. Not for me-- that I've lost Leslie, or the fact that I can't "do this alone"-- but for our son. It's like little man has no idea how big of a deal this has all really been. It's like he'll never really know just what he's missing. It's like he's somehow okay with the fact that Mommy's in Heaven, and we can't just go see her whenever we want. We do talk about her every day. But it's as if she's just "away". This morning he asked if he could just go to Heaven for a little bit, so he can just talk to her just for a minute, as if he was trying to get me to cut him a deal, similarly to a "just one more book" request at bed-time. I told him he can pray and tell God everything that he wants to tell his mom, and she will be so happy to hear it all from God. And I told him how proud of him Mommy is, watching from Heaven. And it's weird... That all seems to be okay with him. He just goes on loving me, laughing, playing, dancing, drumming, asking questions, watching the world unfold before him.

Witnessing all of this just reminds me-- even amidst my own bouts with sorrow or worry for him-- that indeed, Jehovah Jireh, our God provides. TJ is the one thing I protect and hold onto with all that I am, all that I've got, above all other things-- far above even my own life. And even TJ is something I am learning to lay down at the foot of the Throne-- to give up into the more competent hands of our Father-- in humble acceptance of God's will and provision. Certainly, God is using me to provide for His child, TJ... pouring into me (or right through me) far more love and wisdom and "parental guidance" than I ever thought myself able to contain. But even then, the stuff that comes out of me is not enough. I just fall short. And when I have run dry and empty, God continues to hold TJ in His hand-- providing all the more perfectly in my weakness. And He doesn't stop there... God is loving and healing me through TJ. God has given me TJ to provide for me, as well. It has been truly miraculous to see Him work in this dynamic these days.

So that's been welling up in my heart for the last couple of weeks. Feels good to broadcast it to the world. Tears of pride and joy are welling up in my eyes as I watch him sleep on his make-shift bed on the bathroom floor. Such a big boy. A warrior, like his mommy. A true joy and a blessing. Thank you God, for my TJ.

(whew... I'll call it a day, I think. While I dry myself off a little... here are some candid photos I've shot this past week or so, with the camera phone...)

TJ waiting for his food at Panera.

Seconds later, waiting for his food at Panera.

Doing the high-flying balloon-bike thing at Chuck E. Cheese's.

3/2/09

2009-03-02T20:52:00.009-06:00

I woke up this morning to the gentle crescendo of my iHome clock radio-- a feature ALL clock radios should have, if you ask me. My particular model displays the date next to the time.

Monday
Mar 2 2009

As my sleepy eyes gained focus, I stared at that date, letting my mind wake up and my heart settle into the reality of the day. About a half-hour later, I pulled myself out of bed and started another day. It wasn't 3 snoozes-- the typical way I'd spend 30 minutes getting myself out of bed and to the shower. I was fully awake. Staring at the ceiling. The couple of pictures that remain on the dresser. The empty pillow beside me.

In a past life, I'd have rolled over and kissed her forehead and said, "Happy anniversary, baby". I imagined doing just that this morning. I smiled for a minute at the thought. Then the loneliness set in. This day is no longer shared. It's not "our day". Not like it was. "We" are only a memory. So is our anniversary. I'm somewhat certain there are no calendars in Heaven. If there are, I'm QUITE certain Leslie doesn't pay much attention to them these days. In her earthly life, she was obsessed with the calendar-- birthdays and season changes and upcoming vacations. And anniversaries. I found myself wondering if she gave it a second thought today. March 2, 2002 was an awesome day. Perfect for the first day of "Tyson and Leslie"... great food, friends, and a beautiful bride and the groom who loved her. I thought of the excitement of our honeymoon in St. Marten. Our first house in Fishers. Our friends we'd meet up with at Brewpub or Chalkies or Fox & Hound. Her beauty school adventure. God calling us (quite literally speaking) to the Chicago area. Pregnancy. TJ. Parenthood. Our friendship. Her smile. Her laugh. Her scowl. Her voice. Her eyes. My mind was awhirl from about 5:00 until sometime just before 6am, CST, this morning... March 2, 2009. And then it was on with another day... Dana called before 6. Will's sick. Activate contingency plan. Call Gram, see if we can get him down to her ahead of schedule this week. (Work schedule had required/ provided for a mini-vacay for TJ at Gram's this week.)

God, we had such a good life. You blessed us so much. You bless me every day-- in this "new life"-- with the life we had. She taught me how to live this life. I literally owe her my life (as I was just pondering with Dana via email). (Thanks, by the way, to all of you who dropped me a voice mail, email, etc... today to let me know you were thinking of me.) I literally spent the day just remembering. Giving thanks for Leslie. Giving thanks that her suffering is over. That she is now complete. No more cancer. No more depression. No more Februaries. Yet her memory and the very essence of her life lives on in so many of us. In TJ and me... in Dana and Mom and Dad and Chris and Margarette and Cody and Dan. In all of her family. In our friends here... In Indy. Shoot, across the entire globe, so says Google Analytics.

Tonight I called Mom (-in-law). I used the excuse that I wanted to say goodnight to TJ, but really, I just wanted to tell her thanks. Thanks for "giving me" their daughter. For trusting me to love her and care for her the way they did. And for accepting me into their family on March 2, 2002. This date is not only a wedding anniversary... it's a "birthday" of sorts. Today is the anniversary of the day I was welcomed into the Bucher family. So there's still reason to celebrate. And there always will be.

So it was a beautifully and difficultly complex day today. Memories and missing Leslie. Thankfulness and worship. I guess it was a perfect "anniversary". Leslie, my wife, was honored. And fittingly enough-- as this, I hope was the essence of our very marriage-- so was God.

This Beautiful Mess

2009-02-25T22:54:00.003-06:00

I'm starting this blog-- too late, mind you, for as early as I need to get up in the morning-- as I sit and try to wind down from our Ash Wednesday services this evening. Our church is really digging deep into Easter this year. Easter-- or "Resurrection Sunday", as I prefer to call it-- is the most important holiday of our faith. Christmas gets all the attention-- the glitz and glamor. We observe "Advent"-- which in this culture has become something even "bigger" than it was originally intended, starting (culturally speaking) the day after Thanksgiving, and ending sometime after the football games are over. But it is actually Easter, not Christmas, which is the anniversary of our faith. The empty cross and the empty tomb are where it all started. This is when we should be truly celebrating CHRIST.

Anyway, as Ronn (my pastor and confidant and friend) said tonight to open the services, it seems that every year Easter is over before we even knew it was approaching. The true advent and very focal point of our faith seems to be overshadowed by things like Spring Break and Tax Season. Sure, we throw a great party on a "special" Sunday morning in March or April, with the band and the choir and the cheery sermon and the bright colored clothes. Maybe we even have enough committed members in our church to drum up a few dozen attendees-- maybe even a hundred or so-- for our traditional "Good Friday" service a couple evenings prior. But we (especially we "Protestants" in the crowd) tend to simply "observe" or "celebrate" Easter... we don't really experience or honor it... at least, not the way we should.

Well, this year, our little congregation is changing all that. We kicked off our "40 Day Journey to the Cross" this evening with our first ever "Ash Wednesday" services. Before my staunch protestant and jilted Catholic friends in the house start to tune me out... Let me give a brief, "un-churchy" history. Circa 300-400 AD, the early followers of Christ started observing "Lent" (which simply means "Spring") in order to "dig deeper" into the Easter story... to better prepare their hearts for the mourning of the death of Jesus and the proper celebration of Resurrection Sunday. Even in those early days, it would seem, the "routine" of the Easter holiday was already losing its weighty impetus, at least in the human hearts of the early "Believers". So, they decided to put some extra effort into preparing themselves for the celebration of the miracle of this sacred day. It all started with Ash Wednesday, exactly 40 days (a significant number, biblically speaking) prior to Easter Sunday. Mathemeticians in the crowd may dispute this... you'll count 46 days from now until Easter. Well, "Lent", as we know it now, ends on Saturday, "Easter-Eve". And, the early Church, not wanting to dishonor the celebration in worship that is (or should be) Sunday morning (every Sunday is "Resurrection Sunday", after all), didn't count Sundays. That leaves us with 40 days of Lent, until Easter Sunday. Ash Wednesday kicks it all off with what is traditionally a day of "heart-rending" introspection, confession, and self-sacrifice, traditionally marked with a commitment to "fast" or give up something of personal importance, preference, or pleasure for the 40 day observation. The thing you give up is not a means to salvation. It's not something to "gain favor with God". It is something simply to prepare oneself for Easter. It is to be a daily reminder of the sacrifice that Jesus offered. This year, for instance, I'm giving up red meat. Next time that bone-in ribeye catches my eye on the menu or in the freezer, (at least, between now and April 12), just as I start to truly desire that gigantic slab of mouth-watering goodness, regretting my commitment to "abstain"... I will laugh at my own self-centeredness. How foolish!! I can't give up a single piece of animal flesh, when The Almighty gave up HIS OWN flesh, on my behalf!!?? Anyway... that's what Ash Wednesday is about. That's what we celebrated tonight, in 3 very small, intimate, candle-lit installments, at the offices of CrossTown Church in Bolingbrook, IL. I played guitar. Just closed my eyes and worshiped my guts out. Didn't really worry about "leading". It was so good. Ronn spoke and read scriptures. There was a lot of silence. Private, heart-rending prayer of confession. And of course, the crossing of ashes on our foreheads.

Interesting story... The ashes were originally reserved for those "caught" in sin, in the public eye. (ie, an unmarried woman who had become pregnant; a petty thief who had been caught in the act at the market, etc...) It was a way for a "sinner" to publicly confess their guilt, repentance, and the subsequent (or prerequisite, more accurately) grace of God which they required for their forgiveness and atonement. It had become, over the years of history and routine of the early Church, more a sign to be scorned than anything. But somewhere around 600 to 800 AD, a very cool trend caught on. "Righteous" people began going to the priests and asking for the ashes as well. "We need Jesus, too," was the public outcry. "We are sinners just like the thief and the fornicator. Let us publicly bear the mark of our need for grace, as well!" And that is what the ashes depict-- an individual's need for Christ. Their public confession of their own sin, and their reliance upon the grace of God and nothing else, in full view of that sin.

Okay... enough of the Church History lesson. Why this rant, you ask?? It's all about perspective, my friends.

The main reason I haven't posted in the last 2 weeks is that I've had no access to a computer. (GASP!!! The HORROR!!! ) We had to "evacuate" the house last week (yes, all week) so the wood floors on the main floor of the house could be restored and refinished. (Those of you who know the drill can empathize. I had no idea it was this big of deal.) (But MAN, do these floors look NICE now!!!) So TJ and I moved in with Dana and Curt and the boys last week. On Monday morning of said week, my laptop (work computer) croaked. Crashed and burned. Hard drive issues. Lost EVERYTHING since my last archive... which was... I don't know... 18 months ago. (So sue me.) It was under warranty, but the problem was apparently much worse than our friends at Dell could navigate me through over the phone, even with multiple shipments of replacement parts... so I just gave up and took advantage of the liquidation sale at my local Circuit City. (The recession has its upside, I suppose.) (Although, I'd gladly pay full price if it meant my buddy could have his job back.) Anyway, I'm back up and running with a brand spanking new laptop now. I am back at home tonight, (although not without a few more gray hairs than I had 2 weeks ago), with TJ, who is asleep up in his bed.

He just returned this evening from a mini-vacay at Gram's house. I've been here since Friday night, trying to "get my house in order", literally speaking. I had some PHENOMENAL help from my bro's from church getting things cleared off the main floor for the hardwood contractor, and then moved back in. But now I've got stacks of boxes, packed full of things which are awaiting to be dispatched to their new homes. And I've also now got a refrigerator with a busted water line-- no ice or filtered water... again... GASP!!! THE HORROR!!! Apparently, it got cold that week we were at Dana's... The fridge had been moved out to the garage, where we plugged it in to save what little food was in there. That turns out to have been a bad idea. The water filter and water line literally exploded with the expansion of the freezing of the water that remained in the line. That one's gonna cost me...

Anyway, add a few stacks of junk packed into boxes, a dusty house (left-overs from the aforementioned hardwood restoration project), and a VERY frustrating sequence of events surrounding my friendly neighborhood IKEA store-- for the record, I'm never shopping there again... not for furniture, not for fixtures, and DEFINITELY not for ready-to-assemble TV/entertainment wall units, like the one I TRIED to buy last weekend, which I finally gave up on and returned last night-- and you get a VERY frustrated man. It was just starting to settle on me... Or more accurately... it was starting to dominate my thoughts: There was absolutely NO way I'd EVER be "settled back in" to this house. EVER. I mean... when was I going to get "caught up"? It's all I can do to keep from falling asleep with TJ when I put him to bed. In the event that, after a "normal" work day, I CAN drag myself out of his bedroom prior to falling asleep-- sometime around 9pm, usually-- there's laundry and dishes and cleaning and bills to attend to. So, when am I going to get to finding a home for all the stuff in the boxes? If not for the sheer fact that there are certain personal relics and memoirs-- photos of Leslie and TJ, favorite toys of TJ, etc...-- sprinkled throughout the boxes in question, I'd just take the whole bunch of them to Goodwill and bid my good riddance. The thing is, this isn't something I can ask for help with. It's something I've got to do on my own. Only I know the stuff I want to keep and the stuff I want to get rid of. Only I know WHERE I want to put the stuff I want to keep. It just is astonishing to me, actually, looking at all the boxes of STUFF that had piled up on the counter, in the corner of the room, on the coffee table, the kitchen table, in the old entertainment center, and so-on, over the last year and a half, since anyone has really had much time or strength to "manage" such things. And now it's all in boxes. Waiting for me.

Hopefully you start to see where the frustration had been setting in this week... I was neck deep and sinking fast. I just can't do this alone.

And then tonight's services...

One man (God as He was, He was still a man) took on the cross... alone... that I might not have to. Boxes and broken fridges and dust and poorly engineered entertainment centers... Flooded houses and damaged hardwoods and a recession... Who am I kidding??!! What am I anxious about? What is MY struggle? What is MY burden? What am I trying to bear? On my OWN??? On MY schedule??? To MY liking??? Some burden! And daily in my frustration, in my loneliness, in my greed, in my pride, in my insecurity and selfishness... I drive the nails that He invites with open arms. The blood flows daily. He offers it all, in the hopeful event that, on a night such as tonight, a drop might land on me, and awaken my soul to the foolishness with which I have again encapsulated myself. A mark of a cross-- drawn in ashes-- on my forehead... The reminder that, indeed, I can't even unpack a freaking cardboard BOX on my own... How am I going to LOVE another? How am I going to be a DADDY!? An EMPLOYEE? A BOSS? A FRIEND? How am I going to bring ANY good to this world on my OWN? Let alone save my own SOUL!? Heal the sick?! Feed the hungry?! Be a light amidst the darkness?!

Indeed I don't have to do these things alone. (A good thing, because I can't.) Because I am not alone. That blood-- this cross of ashes on my forehead-- is the proof.

Proof, once again, that God is indeed in the business of raising up beauty from ashes... Making sense of chaos... Bringing strength to the weak... Healing to the sick... And blessing us with peace amidst the mess.

Praise God for His grace tonight. I am not alone. I am forgiven. And I am being redeemed.

Amen.

So... There's this girl...

2009-02-13T11:21:00.000-06:00

So I know I stoked some curiosity, back there, with January's final post... you know... concerning the "relationship"... And I've been intentional in not mentioning it since, up until now. I don't want to turn this into a soap opera. And I don't want to give anyone the impression that I'm any less in touch with what "living without Leslie" is, now that there is "another woman", than I was before. That being said, God is good. And to hide this story from view is to try to veil the goodness, grace, and providence of God... not that such a thing can be accomplished... But why keep a good thing from being known, right?

Katie's her name. Katie Umbaugh. Anna, her sister, was one of Leslie's dearest friends on earth, going back to when we lived in Indy. I've shared a bit in the past, on this blog, about this mysterious connection we've had with the Umbaugh family over the years. Another of the Umbaugh sisters, Sarah, went to Heaven a couple years ahead of Leslie, as a result of her own battle with cancer. So Leslie-- having "walked that road" with Anna at the time-- always had a special place in their family's collective heart, even before she herself was first diagnosed with cancer. And the Umbaugh family has always had a special place in our hearts, as well. Anna and her husband, Rob, have been great friends to us, and were wonderful hosts whenever Leslie and I would visit Indy to see family and friends. As Anna anticipated and experienced her first pregnancy, Leslie was experiencing young-motherhood. The two would talk about the future-- getting together on weekends and having the kids play. They were even starting to plant the seeds of an intricate scheme to get Rob and I to buy land together someday, so they could together enjoy having horses with their kids. (A love for horses was a common bond between Anna and Leslie) Those, obviously, were plans and dreams that were not a part of God's plan-- at least, not on this side of Heaven. Anna was giving birth to her first-born at almost exactly the same time Leslie was being wheeled into her first surgery, late in the summer of 2007. Leslie would never so much as get to see TJ and Will (Anna's son) play together.

As much as I'd come to know Anna over the years, I'd had very little opportunity to get to know her sisters. I knew there was a sister named Katie and another named Laura (although, to be completely honest, until last year, I didn't know which was which, names-and-faces), and there was Lydia, their adopted sister. And of course I remembered Sarah (we had her "anniversary" marked on our calendar in the kitchen, to remind Leslie to send Anna a note or give her a call... not that she would have needed reminding). But all I really knew about them was that they were Anna's sisters... I'd hear a story of Lydia getting married... Katie going to Africa... Laura getting married... But they were all just names and stories.

...Until the events of the past few months...

I have remained in close contact with Anna since about the time Leslie got sick enough that she was unable to talk on the phone due to the cancer which had spread to her lungs. Anna was always a wonderful friend and confidant to Leslie, and continued to be so, of course, as her battle took turn after turn for the worse. And Anna has become a wonderful friend and confidant to me, in Leslie's absence. I like to think we've been an encouragement to one another, as we have grown into life without Leslie, in our own ways. Anyway, through the course of our regular conversations, I remember Katie coming up in passing-- Anna would draw comparisons between how Katie and I would express certain thoughts... our hearts for God, and worship of Him, and so-on... But I never thought twice about it. Why would I?

After a couple of very hard months of heavy, paralyzing, depression-laced sorrow and grief, immediately following Leslie's death (see the posts on this blog from August and early September of last year)-- not to mention the months leading up to her death, as that is when the grieving process actually started, in my case-- God began doing an extraordinary work of healing in my life... Picking me up, dusting me off... starting the process of piecing my broken heart-- and life-- back together, according to His divine craftsmanship. (To avoid being redundant, I'll spare the details, here. You can read of this specific page of this "new chapter" in my life, as I recount it in a letter to my mom-in-law, in December's post, "Grieving With Gram".) Anyway... one day, sometime after God's beginning to work this miraculous healing in my heart, I was tinkering with the "analytics" application of this blog. (For those not-so-tech-savvy in the audience... there is a tracking mechanism on most websites that keeps record of general and non-personal data of the users of a website. I can tell how many people, for instance, have read the blog this week; what state they're logging in from; how long they spend on the site, on average; what search engine they found my site through; etc...) Anyway, the analytics were showing some traffic being generated from another blog with which I was unfamiliar-- people were linking over to my site from a blog that I didn't recognize. I entered the URL, and up popped Katie's blog. "AHA!" I thought to myself... "It's Anna's sister!" I read her very touching entry, there, about Leslie's memorial service... and Kate's then-terminally ill grandpa, from where people were linking to my "story"/blog. Deeply moved by what Katie wrote there, I continued reading the following posts... then some subsequent posts...

I eventually just went back to the beginning, started reading... And didn't stop. As it turns out, Katie began blogging a couple years ago, when, following God's calling, she up and moved to Kenya for a 5-month stint with a Christian ministry there called Tanari. My heart was just moved by how this woman cried out to God. How she reflected on losing Sarah, on the topic of worship, on seeking God's will and desiring to know His plan for her life, and so-on. Not to mention, I was just entertained by some of her stories of African adventures. When she returned to the States following her stint, she just continued blogging about what God was doing in her life. Funny how much you can get to know about a person, anonymously, through their blog, eh? :)

Upon my completion of the blog-version of the story of the last two years of this woman's life-- since she WAS, after all, my dear friend's sister-- I thought it appropriate to drop her a quick email and thank her for the encouragement, and to offer her some thoughts that were lingering in my mind and some truth that was on my heart, in response to her recent entries, in hopes she might be encouraged, as well. I honestly expected nothing more, in return, than a polite "thank you"... maybe, "I'm still praying for you and TJ..." or whatever...

Well... Katie was so moved by my words to her, that she wrote back, (but not without first going to sister Anna for "permission"), speaking directly into my own life... which then caused ME to respond... and so it began. We started emailing almost daily... then several times a day. Then, we began talking on the phone. (Our first phone call was the night her beloved grandpa died... She called me to tell me the news. We just prayed and cried together for about an hour. It was a beautifully bittersweet night.) We were just enjoying a new friendship. Enjoying God's blessing of encouragement we were receiving through each other. I was certainly not thinking "relationship". You long-time/ regular readers may (but probably don't) remember my "manna" references from that particular season of this "process"... "Manna" was my metaphor of how God was meeting my daily needs, in Leslie's absence. A call from a college buddy... A blog comment... a random hug from Dana or Mom... Or maybe just a miraculous sating of one desire or another, or a supernatural settling of "peace" on my soul... God was just showing up DAILY in my life to fill the void that Leslie had left, you know. Meanwhile, He was just capitalizing on my dependence on Him, just using me and teaching me so much every day. (And He has continued with this "symbiosis"-like dynamic in my life to this day.) Anyway, into October and November of last year, God began using Katie in some pretty cool ways... as "manna"... in my life. The really crazy thing was... God was using ME as manna in HER life, as well.

Conversation flowed with little or no effort between Katie and me. It's like we "spoke each other's language". We worshiped with the same song, metaphorically speaking. Much like how her sister and Leslie used to get along. At one point, I was explaining this phenomenon to Anna, "confessing" to her how much I was enjoying getting to know her sister. Anna's response was priceless-- "FINALLY! Somebody GETS Katie!" Katie and I began sharing our prayers with each other... our daily studies in scripture... we began challenging and encouraging one another. Yes, as she pointed out early on in our friendship, some of what drew us together was the "male-female" dynamic. But due to the fact that there was no direct physical/ "in-person" interaction between us, (and due to the fact that I was just so obviously "not ready" for a relationship, due to the newness of my "widowerhood"--yes I think I just made up a word), there wasn't the haze of romance or "sexual tension" clouding our minds, or our blocking the view of what God was doing in our lives. Bottom line-- our friendship was God-breathed, and Christ-centered, from the get-go.

As our phone- and email-based relationship began to grow in October and November, and into December, the idea of "what if..." started to form in both of our minds (and of course, due to our transparent honesty with each other, it found its way into our conversations). "What if, sometime down the road, you're still single, and I'm ready to consider 'dating' again...?" God began to reveal a lot through those conversations. We began to get into conversations that were prefaced by a silly little catch phrase... "I'm not sayin'... I'm just sayin'..." Basically... we weren't suggesting that indeed we WOULD find ourselves in a "commited romantic" relationship with each other some day, but, if by chance we DID find ourselves in that situation... You get the idea. We'd talk about what "moving on" looked like to me. We talked about what it would look like to her to be with a "single dad". We talked about TJ a ton. We talked about Leslie. My house. Her job. My in-laws. And so-on. They were difficult conversations, sometimes, but conversations that nonetheless needed to be had, by me, at least, as I considered the prospect of "dating" and eventually "remarrying" someday. And Katie was a "safe place" to begin to consider these things, because of the open-handed nature with which we were approaching (or accepting) the relationship. And at the end of each of these conversations, we'd end with the obligatory, "...but don't wait for me, Kate." "I won't, Ty." But secretly-- though not-so-discretely-- we both hoped... And we both took those hopes to The Throne every night in prayer, individually.

In December, as had been planned for some time, I spent the weekend in Indy, with some old friends there. Due to the fact that I was staying at Rob and Anna's house from Thursday through Sunday (I also had work to do in Indy that week), and the fact that Katie and her sisters had standing plans on Thursday nights at Anna's house, it so happened that Katie's and my paths were going to cross. We decided to take advantage of fate's opportunity (or Providence, perhaps), and made a coffee-date for Friday afternoon... which happened to morph into a full-out dinner date, mid-stream. From the moment I first saw her that weekend, I knew that God had something greater in store for Katie and me. Something came alive in me. A veil was lifted. There were "fireworks"... or whatever. And I watched in amazement, as TJ (who had joined me on the trip to see Anna and Robbie and "Baby Will") and she interacted-- TJ just latched onto her... and hasn't stopped talking about her since, to this day (not something I've provoked, in case you were wondering...). In those moments during my visit that weekend, with her, in the flesh, in the same room as me, I was becoming aware-- as unlikely and shocking as it is to admit, given things such as "timing" and "history" and etc...-- I had in fact begun falling in love with this woman, through the course of all the email reflections, phone prayers together, and "I'm not saying, I'm just saying..." conversations. And here she was, right in front of me.

Brings new meaning to the term, "love at first sight", doesn't it?

I was so surprised by all of this. "God... it's too soon...!" I'd pray. "I mean... really...???" But as I would pray, continually asking Him to "take her away", if it was His will-- to take these feelings away, or even put somebody or something else in her life that distracted her from me, unless this was truly of Him-- I began to realize that it was actually my flesh that was causing me to doubt what He was giving us. "What will people think?" That thought haunted me. And Katie certainly had her apprehensions and fears. This certainly couldn't be the relationship that God had desired for her, on which she was called to "wait"...?! Leslie's HUSBAND!? "What will people think?" She'd ask herself as well. But meanwhile, the more we prayed about it, giving each other up, the more sure we became, in the Spirit, that this was indeed "good".

Over the holidays, we started sharing the idea of this new "secret" relationship with our families, close friends, etc... little by little, as the opportunity would arise. (We had previously opened up to a couple of people in the name of "accountability" and prayer support-- a couple guys for me, some women for her, but were up to then reluctant to disclose the situation fully to family, etc...) And the more we shared our thoughts, fears, and feelings, and the more we told the story-- the more we asked friends for prayer and accountability-- the more confidence God gave us... that it was "okay"-- even more than that... that it was indeed "right" for us to pursue this thing. As I alluded in my prior post, Katie spent the time leading up to the New Year with TJ and me. It was a crazy couple of days-- the flooded house, TJ and her interacting more and just hitting it off and loving on each other, she and I spending New Year's Eve together-- truly an unplanned event until the moment was upon us. But as she drove back home to Indy on January 1, 2009, we were both at peace and in full acceptance of what we now had... we had each other. And it was good.

So, yes... it's "too soon". (but by whose standards?) Yes, we need to be careful not to "rush God's will". (but who am I to drag my feet?) Yes, it's complicated. But it is SO good. I'm learning so much. I'm so happy.

The crazy thing is... it's like I've never been here before. Not a moment goes by when I am not fully aware of the fact that I've "lost" Leslie. But it's not like I thought it would be, as I have now entered into the realm of a new relationship. God has provided... and He's given me a new heart, as it seems... Or rather, maybe he has simply taken the shattered pieces of my heart and reformed them into a new vessel. Whatever the case, everything is new. Yet, Leslie is the very foundation on which it is all being built-- I mean... all I am is the man she made me. It's so weird. So beautiful. So... "God".

And as for Katie... certainly there are hard parts. Hard days with "this". She loved and adored Leslie-- spent so much time in heart-rending prayer for our family and miraculous healing. She looked up to Leslie. And now... THIS... And TJ... Me, with all my "baggage", as they say... Yet, it was Katie herself who offered the touching bit of encouragement, several months ago, as I began to conisder what it was to "move on"... as my heart began to consider "life after Leslie":

I know that whoever God has coming down the road for you Tyson will be an amazing woman of God. I know that she will love you for who you are, including everything about Leslie that is now a part of you. That is the Tyson she will fall in love with. She will know no other. God has extraordinatry things in store for you.

A different spin on the term, "self-fulfilling prophecy", eh?

So there's some "background". Some of the "story". I could go on and on about how God is making Himself known in this... And I probably will, in future posts. There's so much to share... an amazing testimony of God's provision, providence, grace, and the joy He takes in redeeming His children. Anyway... another time. Another post.

Know that we're not deceiving ourselves. Know we're not "forcing" anything. On the contrary, we would be deceiving ourselves to deny what's been given to us. Certainly, we've got some time, now. We have a lot to discover-- God has a lot to bring us through... many things to work out... before... I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'...

But in the meantime, we're just enjoying being here. Enjoying being happy. Enjoying this crazy story God seems to be writing, right before our very eyes. I'll keep you posted from time to time with updates and insights... like maybe when He finishes the next sentence...

(By the way, if you care to get to know Katie a little... click the picture below to visit her blog...)

Flu Season

2009-02-10T21:18:00.004-06:00

So TJ and I are both healthy, so far (please... everybody knock on wood). But people all around me are dropping like flies to various kinds of viruses. (Or is it "viri"?)

Physically, we're feeling strong. Emotionally... Well... it was a rough day. I finally just got TJ down. It's been such a long time since he's cried like he did tonight, after saying prayers, tucking him in, and cuddling for awhile. He just didn't want me to leave. Finally, I gave him my shirt to cuddle with. "See?" I encouraged him as he dried off his tears, "it even SMELLS like Daddy!" He grinned from behind his paci and looked at me and cuddled the shirt tightly. That seems to have done the trick. He's fast asleep now. (Although, before allowing me to leave his room, holding my shirt tightly to his cheek, he did state that he planned on waking up in the middle of the night and climbing into my bed with me. I told him that would be just fine.)

The day started off that way, too... Only... for Daddy, rather than TJ. I had a heart-to-heart with my mom-in-law last night. She had TJ for the weekend (he was LONG overdue a trip to Gram's house), and was bringing him back to me. We got into a tough conversation about... well... "stuff". She was having a rough day, emotionally-- probably being back in the house, giving TJ back to me, etc... Anyway... we made it through, and were both encouraged by the conversation... But this morning, I guess I had a "hang-over", of sorts, from the exchange. My heart was just heavy. It was a beautiful morning... the snow (even the 4 foot drift at the foot of my driveway) is completely melted now, and it got all the way up over 60F today. The sunrise was gorgeous. TJ was cute and cuddly and thoughtful... Just the kind of morning Leslie would have relished. She would have pulled a lawn chair out of the shed, thrown on a sweatshirt, made coffee, and just soaked in the sunrise on the patio, reading her morning bible passage. I caught myself even feeling sorry for her... I wanted her to be able to enjoy the first hint of spring in the air. As much as winter haunted her, a day like this would bring so much joy...

Of course... I know that she's "in better hands now". I know the sunrise in Heaven today was MUCH better than the one in the west suburbs of Chicago. And I know the coffee there is MUCH better than even the bag of whole-bean organic Acacia light roast I picked up at Caribou last week. (cue: visuals of her euphoric smile and radiant face.) But still... these mornings happen, in spite of what I "know". Call it "grieving", I guess.

Tonight at dinner (I was already reeling-- having just discovered I had lost my beloved Blackberry-- fell off my hip on the walk from my parking space to our dinner restaurant), the day was culminated with quite the insight from TJ. We ate early-- at about 5:00. We tried a new restaurant, near Dana's and my rendezvous point, in Downtown Wheaton. There were several other young families in the place. TJ was telling me about his day with the boys. I had just heard of yet ANOTHER family I know being rather sick with some sort of stomach virus... so it took me awhile to catch up with TJ's thought progression...

We had just gone to the bathroom, and we bumped into another daddy and a boy about TJ's age, who was leaving the men's room just as we were entering. When we returned to our table, and as we continued our Q & A about TJ's day, he asked me a question...

"Why are some boys' mommies not sick?" He asked thoughtfully. I asked him to repeat his question... Dana wasn't sick... Was a mommy of a friend of the boys who he'd played with that day battling a flu bug? He repeated the question.

"Some boys' mommies aren't sick. Why?" He repeated.

"Well..." I tried to help him clarify, "Who's mommy is not sick?" He looked across the dining room of the restaurant.

"That boy's mommy isn't sick." He pointed to the boy we'd almost bumped into in the restroom. He was about TJ's age. The boy's daddy seemed to be about my age. His mother was a cute brunette with well-styled hair, and familiar-looking facial features. They had a one-year-old boy in a high-chair as well...

Suddenly, I saw where TJ's mind was...

"Oh, buddy..." I sympathized gently. "You want to know why your mommy was sick, but that boy's is not?"

He nodded and looked back across the room to the family of four.

"TJ..." I thought for a second. "Your mommy was very special. She had a very special disease. Not many mommies have that kind of sickness. God loved her SO much that He wanted to bring her to Heaven before almost ALL of the other mommies. Very very FEW mommies get sick like your mommy did."

He shot me a cautiously hopeful smile.

"You know... Someday... when you have another mommy... Maybe she won't be sick, like most of the other mommies." He smiled at me, so I continued. "Maybe she and I will grow old together, and someday, when you're all grown up, you'll have babies of your own, and they'll call me and your new mommy 'grandma and grandpa'!"

"Noooooo!" He giggled sheepishly.

"YES!" I replied. "TJ, people don't usually get sick like your mommy did. She was very special. But Daddy's not sick, and most mommies aren't sick, either. I'm sorry your mommy got sick the way she did. But she's all better, now, right? And maybe your new Mommy won't be sick, just like that boy's mommy!"

We had some GREAT talks about Jesus on the drive home.

"I love God," he informed me.

"TJ! That makes me SO happy!!! I love God, too!!"

"And if I love God, I can go to Heaven someday, right? You told me that."

I'd forgotten about that conversation... A month or so ago, he'd learned a new word from a cousin... "hate". Well... that's the one word that Daddy "hates". So I jumped all over that one. But in the heat of the argument, TJ (boy, this sounds horrible-- remember, Tyson... he's only 3...) announced that he hated God. It was during a bed-time prayer, and he was not ready to go to bed, so I think he just blurted it out for effect-- to get a reaction from me. Well, he did. I told him it made me very, very sad when he said that. I told him that only people who LOVE God go to heaven... I gave him the 3-year-old version of the "salvation message"-- that Jesus' love for us allows us to love God and be in Heaven with Him someday. And that Mommy loved Jesus with all her heart, and that's why we know she's with God today. I wasn't aware that this particular conversation had left such an impact on his heart, until tonight.

"That's right buddy. Just like Mommy." I answered.

Chalk it up to another "Mommy moment". Call it a "Mommy day", maybe...

Our Little Man

2009-02-05T09:11:00.016-06:00

I'm just all full of all kinds of love for TJ today. Feeling like I just want to talk about him... share this wonderful little blessing of joy with you all... (I'll also share some random pictures that my dad sent me from vacation in Florida over the holidays-- what a GREAT time we had!!)

TJ has truly been the one constant blessing throughout the "storm" of the last year or so. He's been so remarkably "resilient" (the word I keep using... makes me sad, as adjectives such as "resiliant", "brave", and so-on, are not ideal tags I'd prefer attach to 3-year olds... We seem to hope for things more along the lines of "sweet", "cuddly", "happy", "innocent", and so-on). People often ask me how he's doing, with "all of this"... And I just say, "You know... He's so resilient... He's happy, really. But then, he doesn't really have a means of comparison, you know? He doesn't know it's supposed to be any other way..."

Shortly after Leslie died, he turned 3. And shortly after that, I will say, we hit a "phase" of sorts, from which we currently either seem to be enjoying some reprieve... or perhaps (fingers crossed) we are actually turning a corner of developmental progress. (Here's hoping! And daily praying...) Maybe it is just "The Terrible 3's". (The more parents I talk to, the more I realize the "Terrible 2's" are just a myth... it's the "Terrible 3's" that you gotta watch out for.) Anyway... Whether it's the fact that he is now 3, or the fact that Mommy died, (or how all that affected me and everyone else around him), or a combination of all of the above... He did become a bit more "high-maintenance", to say the least. He's always been a rather intense and passionate kid. (Don't know where he gets it...) Temper tantrums have become more frequent... ("melt-downs" I call them. It's a more accurate description.) Sometimes the "time-out" just doesn't work. I can count on one finger the number of times I spanked him before Leslie died. Let's just say things have changed, now... much to the dismay of TJ's cute little bottom. But sometimes, in the heat of one of these melt-downs... spanking doesn't even work. It's in these moments I just go Gandhi on him and do my own little non-violent sit-in. (I refuse to "lock him in his room"-- this, I know, is an effective tactic for some loving parents whose kids have reached that point, and it's a good alternative to letting the melt-down affect your own temper, of course. But due to his newfound fear of abandonment, which has become very evident in several verbally and non-verbally comunicated ways, I just don't think this is a good idea.) So, I take him to his room, put him on his bed, and sit down in front of the closed door. He continues going ballistic, hitting at me, kicking, screaming, clawing, trying to escape. I just cover up, let him go off, occasionally catching his hands before he strikes and turning him away, just saying quietly, "TJ, I love you. You don't have to do this. You have a choice. Get control. I love you..." And it works. Go figure. Eventually, he just falls into my lap in a sweaty, teary, sobby mess, and just buries his nose in my neck. We talk it out, and then we're on with our life. For awhile, this was happening several times a week. And only with me-- not with his other caregivers. I know... something deeply emotional and psychological going on there... I'm aware. But it is what it is, you know? All I can do is love him through it. I will say, the meltdowns are coming MUCH less frequently these days... and lasting not nearly as long when they do happen. I think we're growing through this "stage". This past week, in particular has been SUCH a good one-- he's obedient even when he doesn't want to be (although not always without argument, but I'll take what I can get). He's been very loving, often just breaking out with a spontaneously thoughtful, "I love you, Daddy". And he's been full of laughter and smiles. (This might have something to do with the fact I've been around more these last couple of weeks-- less travel this week... Refer to my aforementioned frustration with not being able to offer him the "family life" I desire for him...)

Now, THAT being said... Let me just say that I did not know it was possible to be so in love with such a little bundle of joy. And I am SO proud of him! (Forgive me while I brag on my first-born...) I'm sure other parents might argue with me... but he just may be the SMARTEST little guy EVER. He doesn't miss a thing-- constantly picking up on things that I completely miss... names, events, mundane details-- and then RECALLING them weeks later. The other day, we were coming in from the garage after church, and I had dropped a velcro band from one of my microphone cables...

"What's this, Daddy?" He asked, as he picked it up off the garage floor.

"It's a velcro strap. I use it to hold my microphone and instrument cables together." We continued into the house.

"Oh..." He gave it a second or two of thought, as he played with the thing in his hand.

"My mom used to have a strap for her medicine poles. 2 straps. One in her room by her bed, and one here, by the couch."

I stopped in my tracks... Yes, in fact, the homecare equipment-- the IV poles-- had very similar little velcro straps that were used to keep all the hoses and tubes tidy and untangled... How did he...??? He interrupted my thought process... "But my mom's were orange, not black."

...Seriously... It's been at least 7 months since any of that stuff has been lying around... Scary.

I could tell you more stories like that, but you get the idea. The kid is just wicked smart. And very verbal... (those of you that know him laugh as you read those words.) (And I kind of laugh, at the thought of Leslie rolling her eyes and gesturing not-so-discretely at me, as I share this with you all.) He is CONSTANTLY talking... or singing... or "free-styling", as I like to say... just making up songs and putting various words and phonetic sounds into rhythm as he plays with his colors or trains or drums or whatever... And he's a coordinated little guy, too... never sitting still. We, as you know, play baseball every night before bedtime in the basement. I'm pitching to him exclusively overhand, now, and throwing the ball faster and faster... And he makes contact about 80% of the time... Swings lefty, by the way... Throws right-handed, but swings from the left-handed side of the plate.

He's such a social little guy. He NEEDS interaction with kids. Miss Liz has learned (again, she watches him at our house 2 days a week) that the day just goes a lot better if she can schedule a play-date or a visit to see her neices (Delaney and Ella, whom TJ adores)-- anything to get TJ into a setting where he can just laugh and play with other kids. He loves going to LifeTime with me and "playing with kids", as he says it, while I work out-- they have a really great child center there. And of course, he LOVES his days with Max, Sam, Will, and Ben, Dana's kids. (Below is a sequence of pictures of him on vacation with Cole, Alec, and Jace, my sister's kids. Yes... it's always that crazy. ALEC! GET DOWN FROM THERE!!! TJ! DON'T THROW THAT...!!!)

I'm just so freaking proud of our little man, you know!? I wish we could share these days with Leslie. It's impossible to stop and just soak him up without stumbling into this reality... I just want to share him with her. To look at her and laugh at his antics. To see her cuddle with him... to watch him hold her neck. (He has a thing for necks... He's had to settle for mine, lately, even though it's "scratchy". But, he tells me, both Miss Liz and Dana have very nice, soft necks.) I want him to know his mommy-- who she was, through his "bigger boy" eyes. We do talk about her almost every day. And we have some very intimate "Mommy moments"... where we both are just missing her so much and all we can do is just sit and quietly remember stories about her, or talk about Heaven, and what she's probably doing right now. Those "Mommy moments" aren't sad. Well, maybe a little sad... But they're just special, you know? As I was saying to a friend the other night... TJ and I will always have those "Mommy moments"... Even when he's all grown up and out of the house... regardless of what God's plan is for us... our family. TJ and I will always have a special exclusive bond that is the essence of the memory of Leslie... who she was... who she made us to be... the life she gave us. She will always be "ours". And we will always be "hers".

He has begun talking, Miss Liz tells me, about when he has a "new mommy", someday. For instance, when he has a new mommy someday, he hopes he can have a baby sister. This general topic did come up several weeks-- maybe months-- ago, when we were having a Mommy moment. He had asked when Mommy would be coming back to see us. I did my best to explain the ideas of "forever" and "eternity", in his own conceptual language, and also assured him that she would be waiting for us when Jesus came to take us to Heaven. I took the opportunity to mention that maybe someday, God would give us a new Mommy for him-- not Leslie. His mommy would always be his mommy, and nobody will ever replace her... but God might give us somebody else someday. And together, we could be a new family. Much to my surprise, he lit up at the suggestion. "But Mommy will still wait for us in Heaven?" I assured him, that yes, she would, and she told me before she went to Heaven that she hoped that someday we could have another Mommy to make us happy, until we go to Heaven ourselves. "And our new Mommy can go to the zoo with us and play with us, here at our house?" He was starting to get excited... ("Thank you, God," I prayed silently as we finished our conversation. "Thank you for protecting and preparing this boy's heart. This is truly miraculous, how you are guiding us through this.")

He's so constantly aware of how I'm doing. If I'm on the phone, listening to a story, or something, and exclaim something like, "Oh NO!!" he's all over that. "What's wrong, Daddy!? Why did you say 'oh no'?" And several times a day-- often after a "teachable moment", a time-out, or etc...-- he asks me, "are you happy, Dad?" He just wants me to be happy. I guess you could say the same thing of me, concerning him. It seems we're just looking out for each other. We've got each other's back. We're buddies, TJ and me. Indeed, what we have-- and even what, or who, we are missing-- will forever be sacred... A bond between men that will never be severed. I love my little man. And he loves me. Praise God for this precious gift!

Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da...

2009-02-03T09:41:00.009-06:00

Life goes on... Or so the Beatles told us. Funny how close encounters with death can teach us to live, isn't it? Funny how enduring hardships make the joyful times so much richer. Life has never been harder than it has been these last 16 months. And still... life has never been fuller. Even more profoundly... I've never known JOY-- true joy-- like I've known these days... in this "new life", with which Leslie has left TJ and me.

Leslie's dear friend from high school, Claire, sent me along this gem, shortly after Leslie died, from a thinker/ writer named Kahlil Gibran:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, 'Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say, 'Nay, sorrow is the greater.'

But I say unto you, they are inseparable...

This just resonates so much with what has been jumping off the pages of scripture, lately, as I read verses that never before carried the encouragement and power that they do today (I mean, they always did, but I never received it fully)... About how Paul would say, "consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds..." And how Jesus Himself talked about not truly "finding life" until you "lose your life". He wasn't just speaking of Heaven. He was talking about the fullness of life that can be lived here, on earth, with a full understanding of the frailty of this life, yet the paradoxical power of faith lived in grace... and a proper understanding of the value of the "stuff" this life has to offer. Losing Leslie re-taught me what it is that I really VALUE-- what my FAITH was really about... what LIFE I truly longed to live. And the flood that I walked into after vacation at the end of 2008 was the exclamation point at the end of that proclamation. One of my favorite Christian bands, Caedman's Call, writes this beauty (and to a GREAT tune, at that):

This world has nothing for me,

And this world has everything.

All that I could want,

And nothing that I need.

We just fill our lives with STUFF, you know? Toys, experiences, titles, substances... And we run from burden and pain. We seek the path of least resistance... the "wide gate". (Matthew 7:13-14) It's like we're trying to steal joy from life, without the required effort, or the consequences of pain, or even those of suffering and death-- and it ends up being a hollow and empty joy. You Christians in the audience... this includes us-- we're not without fault... in fact, maybe we're even MORE guilty of it, because we claim to have FAITH, yet go on self-medicating with all this STUFF... stealing joy from life, claiming the promise of Heaven, while avoiding the "cup" and the "cross" we've been called to bear... clinging on to happiness and "control", and calling it "stewardship", or "maturity", or even "wisdom". But what is the wisdom of this world to God? And what is its foolishness? As I've said before-- and indeed, many of my close friends are probably getting sick of hearing it from me-- but this faith... the "Gospel", if you will... is not really about "Heaven"... No... it's all about the CROSS. Many religions have "heaven" or some version of it. Only Christ, though, and those who call themselves “Christians”, can lay claim to the Cross, and all it represents. And the Cross is not just the Cross of Easter Sunday... no... We mustn't forget Good Friday. (But the GREAT stuff is... once we more fully grasp all that Good Friday is... Easter Sunday becomes something greater... it becomes RESURRECTION Sunday!) (Another post for another time, perhaps... Maybe in another couple of months...)

So... That's just a taste of what's been stirring in my heart these days. And that's how I want to preface today's update-- the snapshot of the goings-on in the life of TJ and me. Bottom line: Life is hard. But life is good. And life goes on.

(As an aside-- I'll try to include some pictures here, as many of you have asked for updated TJ pic's. Unfortunately... my nice digital camera/camcorder seems to have come up missing, in the aftermath of "The Flood"... I hope it turns up... but it may have to be written off as a casualty of the crisis. That being said... my BlackBerry, which I always carry with me, DOES have a camera application, so I have some classic and candid "action shots" to share... although they may be of a lower quality than one might desire...)

TJ and I are having quite a lot of fun together, lately. I will say that things at work have been quite busy... There are too many of those days where I wake TJ up before 6am, shuttle him to Dana's before sunrise, and don't return until after sunset. Not every day is like that, mind you... and not 100% of this occasional 12 hour day is spent "working" either-- lunch with a friend, run an errand or two, work-out at LifeTime (there's one by my office, one by Dana's, and one by our house... so it's always convenient to go blow off some steam and exert some physical energy over lunch, or going to-and-from wherever). No, not every day is a dawn-to-dusk marathon for me... And Liz and Dana have been SO wonderful and flexible and loving toward TJ... But still, it's my time with TJ that I cherish most, so these long days can start to wear, you know? Especially when coupled with the typical one-night-a-week of travel associated with my job... and my commitments with the church/ ministry, etc... And I get the idea TJ feels the same way-- he just longs for more time with Daddy. Yes, I have struggled from time to time with the fact that I just can't offer him the "family time” that I want him to have... (that, after all, would require there being a whole “family” that I want him to have)… There just aren't enough hours in the day. Just not enough beating hearts under this roof.

Now, we DO have some good Saturdays together-- lately our favorite pastime is going to Naperville Music or a local Guitar Center to look at the drums (him) and guitars (me), and then hit the Fox Valley Mall nearby. They have a carousel, a Panera, and lots of quarter gumball machines (both pictured on the left.) Even on some weekdays, I am able to pick him up from Dana's, or relieve Liz at our place, at 4pm or so, right after his nap, and that gives us a little time to run around and hang out together a little more. Last night, we went to Lifetime together before dinner-- a real treat for him. Tonight, we'll do some MUCH needed grocery shopping at Trader Joe's on the way home from Dana's. But even tonight, we'll probably stop and eat at Panera or something for dinner. I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually turned on the stove in 2009. Maybe two hands... But we just don't do "quiet family dinners at home" anymore. How could we? We DO have frozen meals in the freezer from thoughtful and generous friends, just waiting for the opportunity to be thawed, cooked, and enjoyed at home... But honestly... we don't even have time to thaw, cook, and clean up the mess. Those of you who know me know that I'm a bit of a food-nazi... I get it from Leslie. So I'm never going to put TJ's nutritional health in jeopardy... It's just that I'm finding that it's easier, quicker, can be just as healthy, and even CHEAPER to eat out, just TJ and me, than try to throw something together at home for the two of us... as long as we're disciplined enough with where we go, what we order, etc... And TJ doesn't seem to mind. He loves our dinner times out together. To be honest, he probably has more of my focused attention when we're eating out than he does on the rare occasion when we're eating at home... When I cook, I always serve his food first, then pray. Then I usually hover around the table and kitchen, cleaning up, opening mail, or whatever, between bites of my own dinner, so that by the time he's finished, I can get him cleaned up and upstairs to his bath...

I will say, though, there is something sacred about our night time routine, which we have been able to maintain amidst all the chaos of this new family life. We're always home for bath time. (well... almost always...) We play in the tub or the shower, get dried off, jammies on, and then head down to the basement. There, the world is our oyster... We play band... (I'm almost getting tired of "Mighty to Save" and "My Redeemer Lives", I hate to admit… but I just can’t turn down his requests!)... he bangs on his drums... we play baseball or football or basketball and it always results in tickle fights. And then we're off to bed to pray and cuddle... and he always asks me to stay longer than I do. The challenge is to get him to sleep before 9. Or 10, sometimes, for that matter. But there's just so much to DO these nights, you know?

Hard? You bet. Good? Better than that! Life is BEAUTIFUL! I'm truly cherishing these days... just wishing there was more time in them. Each day is truly a blessing. Each day, we're figuring "it" out. However we define "it"-- I don't have to define it... you know what I mean. But each day, God is providing. Not just getting us through... but providing JOY-- pouring grace and love into us. More and more laughter is finding its way into our days. We're certainly not without tears. But, as I quoted at the front end of this post...

"And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears."

The 800 lb. Gorilla Revisited

2009-01-24T17:46:00.010-06:00

So... About 2 months ago, I posted an entry entitled "The 800 lb Gorilla and the Pretty Barista". If you haven't read it-- or if you don't remember it-- click on the title, there, and catch yourself up. It's a wonderful segway into the thoughts I have to share in this particular post...

I realize that it's been a week and a half since I've contributed to this blog. It's been crazy busy at work and at home. (Work is going great-- very busy. TJ is doing very well-- happy and challenging as ever. No updates on the "book deal" yet. Basement will be renovated and restored at the end of this week, and the hardwoods on the main floor will be finished mid-February, in case you were wondering.) But the truth of the matter is that I haven't posted because I've been wrestling with how (or when, rather) to pour out my thoughts into words for all to see on this blog, concerning this most significant event of my life, which is basically the only thing worth updating you all on...

I'm "seeing somebody".

Rather, more significantly, I find myself "in a relationship". With a woman, that is. A "significant other". An intentional "romantic relationship", complete with all of the emotions, statements of intent, talks about future, and so-on... ...and the 800 lb gorilla stands on its hind-quarters, beats its chest, and ROARS. (Or grunts... or... what noise does a giant gorilla make, anyway?)

No, it's not the pretty barista. Now stop asking me about her! :) She was a metaphor. A case study. Not somebody I had truly considered dating. No, the woman in focus is an acquaintance from the past. A "family friend", I guess you could say. She is somebody with whom there was a certain foundation of familiarity... Her sister was one of Leslie's best friends. Through that connection, she'd been following "Leslie's Journey", and had logged some seriously intense hours in prayer for us throughout the past year. She joined her family at one of Leslie's memorial services. I had met her before-- in the context of her being Leslie's friend's sister, and had actually shared some close emotional ties with her family-- although I did not really know her until the events of the past few months.

Goodness, it's a great story! Complete with prophetic movements of the Spirit, unlikely events, and very obvious compatiablity. The stuff a great "romantic comedy" is made of. (Or is it a coming-of-age drama?) I'll share more of it in future posts, should God continue in the "good work" that He's started here. But I just needed to "break the ice", so to speak... I bring it up here and now because this new relationship is in GREAT need of some serious prayer. There is so much to consider and discuss-- so much at stake-- and she and I are WELL aware of all of the "issues". There are hurdles in our path which we are jumping or stumbling through as we come to them. It is a relationship with its foundation in Christ, built with the bricks-and-mortar of brutal honesty and compassionate trust. So far, the hurdles-- though challenging-- have only proven to strengthen us, in retrospect.

Yes, it is soon... 6 months since the completion of Leslie's and my marriage, this coming Monday. And Kate (that is her name) and I have been talking for almost 3 months already. (Don't worry-- there was no "intent" in the early stages, although I confess it didn't take long for the "potential" to reveal itself, at least on my end.) But it wasn't until we spent some time together over New Years that the relationship truly entered this realm of... whatever it is you call this realm. (She was the friend from a former post who gave TJ and me a ride back from the airport, when we splashed back home from vacation. She ended up staying around for a couple of days, entertaining TJ while I dealt with the insurance company, contractors, etc...)

I did not go out looking for her. But I found her. It's ironic, really. In the early stages, I'd expected my "flesh" (my earthly desires and human understanding) to push me into a relationship-- you know... kind of the "rebound" effect. And I expected my faith and "wisdom" to kind of tug on the reigns... "Whoah, boy! Slow it down! You're not ready!" But the irony is that from the beginning of this relationship, my "flesh" tells me that it's "too early", but the Spirit, in all honesty, has another thing to say about it. Our first phone conversation (she lives 3 hours from us, in Indianapolis, so the relationship started via email and telephone), was spent in prayer. From the beginning, we have sought God, and been completely open-handed in our intentions and feelings for one another, just taking a day-by-day approach to encouraging one another in Christ. I just cannot deny my thoughts, feelings, nor the evidence that has me on the path on which Kate and I find ourselves sharing. Our families (including Leslie's) are all aware, and completely supportive. TJ is even on board. He ADORES this woman, at virtually no prompting or provocation on my part. Several of our close friends know. The feedback thus far has been unanimously positive and encouraging. It just seems to be right.

I just need to unveil the truth of this relationship... because it opens up an entirely new door which begs exploration... which I will want to dive into, in the venue of this blog. Complex concepts have been brought to startlingly simple clarity-- ideas such as "healing"... "redemption"... "grace"... "hope"... "rebirth"... "the meaning of earthly love as compared to that of the etranal"... and so-on. And all of these things are being uncovered or discovered with the complete recollection, understanding, and ownership of everything we have been through, over these past 16 months. It's been truly amazing. And remarkably intense. There is SO MUCH to catch up on, my friends. It has been building over the weeks and months to the point where it is basically just plain dishonesty for me to continue to keep it from being known in this venue. So... here it is. Pretty crazy, huh?

Again, I ask for your prayers. (And your grace as you consider the concept of me "moving on".) There is so much at stake here. New romance has been known to cloud better judgment-- the potential results of which are a proposition I dread. But there is so much to gain. Could it be that God would... Well... I'll save those thoughts for another blog entry. Just know that day-to-day, Kate has truly been a blessing, whom God has used to lift my spirits and draw me further into His loving arms. My joy again knows happiness. My peace is no longer weighed down by the burden of solitude or the prospect of loneliness. Kate has simply been a sweet blessing-- a miracle really. God has-- whatever His purpose or reasoning (as if God needs to declare His intent or make an argument on His own behalf)-- led our paths to cross, and indeed share the same course, at least for today. Who knows where He will take us tomorrow. I could venture a guess, based on what He's revealed to us... but for now, we'll just call it "hope".

Time to sign off for tonight. I've got a phone call to make.

:)

Catharctic January

2009-01-13T14:42:00.003-06:00

It's frigid in Chicagoland. Frigid isn't a good enough word for how cold it is. It's "arctic", according to The Weather Channel. The "blizzard" we were supposed to get (according to the aforementioned experts on the topic) was actually no biggie. I'm thankful for my snowblower and my fireplace, to be sure. But it was no blizzard. But now... it's cold. The kind of cold that cuts right into you. So cold that when I walk to my car from wherever I'm leaving, I draw in one last warm breath of air before heading out into the parking lot, exhaling ever-so-slowly while I trot to my parking spot, so as not to have to breathe in again until I'm safely behind the steering wheel. And then, I let it out with a scream, which invariably is clinging on to a blast of steam from deep within my throat. Somehow, that makes me feel warmer.

I was watching the beautiful snowfall last night, sitting by the fire, TJ fast asleep upstairs, and I thought for a bit about Leslie. She hated the winter. Hate is a four-letter word that I avoid using even more religiously than other four-letter words that most other people would deem far less "religious". But hate is just a horrible word. And Leslie hated winter. (Which tells you how much she loved her family, as she could never get herself to honestly consider moving out of the Midwest.) The post-Christmas months were particularly hard on her. January's cold snow and February's gray slush would invariably bring about a cloud of depression onto our home, which she would fight until her birthday in mid-March. And last night, as I considered all of this while watching the snow and the fire, (it was all the more frustrating to her that I love the winter as much as I do), it made me oddly happy for her that she was missing all the snow and bitter cold this time around. Sure, she would have loved cuddling on the couch under a blanket with a glass of wine by the fire... But undoubtedly, if she was looking down on me last night, she was in NO way wishing she could join me. I'm sure it gave her plenty of reason to throw her head back and laugh her contageous laugh once again, just thrilled to be warm and joyful, in the presence of Jesus. If there is snow in heaven, not a single flake ever falls on our Leslie, we can rest assured.

The house is coming along, and I am eager to have our "new home" put together. With the added bathroom in the basement and the newly finished hardwoods throughout the first floor (a necessity, according to insurance, in order to match and blend the newly replaced portions with what remained from before), it will be an even grander place than the one into which we moved a year ago last August. And as I mentioned before, the floodwaters took care of many hard decisions for me I was certain to face down the road... "What do I do with THIS...? I can't throw it away... but it's just taking up space..." Well... none of that stuff is taking up space any longer. At least not in my house. Am I happy about losing all of those things? No. Am I better off without them? I believe this is what they call "catharsis". "A purging of emotional burden." It just seems so fitting this all should happen at the onset of the new year, you know?

All the churning of "stuff" around the house has drawn some interesting reactions from TJ lately. The photos that have been spread around the house to dry, so many of Leslie's old things dug out of boxes, the general disorganization and chaos of the house... all of these things have indeed been hard on him. Or perhaps, they have provided an opportunity for him to experience his own catharsis, of sorts. Prior to all the "churning" around the house, I'd been so thankful with how he'd been doing. He just seems so happy, and "at peace" with our new life. He and I talk about Mommy almost every day. We pray and thank God for her, and that she is all better. We ask God to give her a great big hug for us. We talk about what she's probably doing today... "She's prob'ly playing band," TJ usually says, and that usually gets him talking about the drumset she's preparing for him. Routinely, he asks when we can go to Heaven. He wonders how old he will be. A couple of days ago he announced, "Daddy, when I'm a little bit older, I don't want to go to high school. I just want to go to Heaven."

Last week, I was picking him up at Dana's house (again, Leslie's sister, where he spends 3 days a week playing with his cousins), and Dana, Curt (her husband) and I got into a very good, emotional discussion about "moving on", "closure", missing Leslie, and the usual "healing" stuff. There were tears-- not the messy, bitter kind... the sweet, warm kind. On the drive home, TJ asked why we were crying. I explained to him that we were talking about Mommy. And that, even though we're so happy for Mommy now-- that she is all better now and having fun in Heaven with Jesus-- we still miss her, because we're still here, and not in Heaven with her. And sometimes, that makes us sad, even though we're happy for her... and sometimes it's okay to cry when you're sad... especially when you're happy and sad and all kinds of things, all at the same time. That set off another in-depth discussion (on a 3-year-old level) of Providence, Eternity, and the Scandal of Suffering. :) Later that drive, I looked back, and he'd fallen asleep, certainly with visions in his mind of Mommy laughing and dancing in Heaven. He woke up very late from his nap that afternoon-- well after sunset. He'd wet through in his bed, and was cold, cranky, sleepy, uncomfortable and inconsolable. After struggling a little, trying to get him changed, I gave up and just decided to give him some space until he could get his senses about him, and warm up to the idea of waking up and getting on with the evening. After he'd calmed, I returned to where he was sitting, 2/3 of the way up the stairs to his room, overlooking the mess strewn across the house (the photos, things, etc... all drying out and awaiting their fate). I just asked gently, "What's wrong buddy? What can I do for you?" He just looked at me, and broke down, beginning to cry, "I want my mom!"

He's been so unbelievably resilient throughout the past 5+ months since Mommy "went to Heaven", that the little melt-down completely caught me off guard. I just went up the stairs, scooped him up, held him tightly and began kissing his head. "I know, buddy. I miss her, too. I miss her, too." There's so much that little kid holds... So much that spins through his mind. As resilient as he is, this stuff will undoubtedly continue to bubble to the surface from time to time... Forever, most likely, until he is again united with Mommy in Heaven. This time, it was seeing Dana and Daddy cry about Mommy, and then seeing her things strewn about the house, that brought about this particular "bubbling-up"... this "catharsis", I guess, to stick with the theme.

Lord, be gentle. Have mercy on this child's heart. Certainly times like these are necessary for him to go through, in order to remember and love his mother, as we learn how to live without her. But God, hold him in Your arms when mine aren't warm enough. Let him touch your face when mine is not soft enough. Whisper peace into his ears when my words fall short. I do thank you for this winter, Lord... it is truly beautiful. And it is good to abide in Your warm shelter, as we weather the icy storm outside. I will abide. But I will also ask that you don't delay in bringing the spring.

When Life Gives You Lemons... Write a Book

2009-01-08T09:48:00.004-06:00

Well, things are coming together at the house. The water damage has been fully "mitigated". They did not have to remove nearly as much drywall or insulation as they had originally predicted, and no sub-floor had to be removed. They're just squeezing the last bit of moisture out with dehumidifiers and industrial-strength fans in the basement, now. All of the basement flooring is a loss, which we'd expected. And all-in-all, only about 1/4 of the square footage of the hardwood in the main floor had to be torn up.

I'm blessed to have a friend from church, Bryan, whose family is in the contracting business, specializing in basement refinishing and remodeling. I've used them before, to do my basement in the townhouse we lived in when we first moved to the area 4 years ago. (Nantom Construction is their company's name, by the way. Let me know if you need their number. Absolutely the BEST in the area-- good, trustworthy people who do great, efficient work.) (Kozor-- do I get a discount for that shameless plug?) Anyway, Bryan agreed to take on my job, and is going completely above and beyond-- he has some great ideas for upgrades (ie, an additional bathroom in the basement), and cost-cutting in other areas (ie, the kind of flooring in the laundry room), so overall, with minimal additional investment, my house is going to be WAY better off when he's done than before it was flooded. ALSO!! The GREAT news is that what the adjuster told me would take months will only take weeks. (Yes, Bryan is THAT GOOD.) :)

Also, I'm starting to realize it is going to be a bit of a blessing to have all of the storage area cleared of things-- even as invaluable as some of the things were. Less clutter. It seriously is like a fresh start-- a new house, less stuff... Not like I had a choice in the matter, but I do see the "upside"... as I tend to. Leslie is rolling her eyes right now at this confession, if they have access to blogspot.com in heaven. Anyway... deep breath... it will be alright.

So, yes, I'm all about making lemonade with the lemons that life deals me. After all, the more I live, the more I learn that, indeed, "...all things work together for good for those who trust the Lord, and are called according to His purpose." But additionally, as you, my loyal friends and readers, have learned very intimately about me... I also like to WRITE about the "lemon-to-lemonade" process, and my experiences therein. I've learned there is something extraordinarily therapeutic about seeing my thoughts in writing... and then sharing them... and then actually reading the heart-felt and thoughtful responses that result. The whole thing is so humbling... so encouraging... It's like the truth that I'm learning becomes even more important-- the beauty I'm witnessing, more glorious-- the more the original report echoes off the walls and finds its way back to me. All that to say, thank you so much for sharing these "new chapters" with me. I am so grateful to God for each set of eyes-- every heart and mind-- that takes and indeed absorbs the stuff that spills out of me onto this keyboard.

Ironically enough, I'm going to ask you all for prayer for something specific on this topic of "writing" or "blogging" or whatever it is we call this phenomenon. It's ironic, because that's how this whole thing started... as a desperate call for prayer. I'd always written-- journaled, wrote song lyrics/ poetry, memoirs, etc... But I'd never shared it publicly. When Leslie was first found to have a cancerous tumor behind her polyp, 15 months ago, that all changed. I simply sent out a mass email to friends and family, asking them for prayer... giving details as to the medical intricacies and the logistics of her diagnosis and pending treatment plan. As people learned of Leslie's condition and the numbers of people wanting to be "in the know" grew, I simply sent out one more email, asking people to check in on my private message board on my MySpace page, as they so desired. From there, our friend Ginny, wanting to do something-- anything-- for Leslie, asked if she could beging to copy and paste my postings in a more public venue, in order to perhaps drum up some more "prayer warriors". And the blog known as Leslie's Journey was born. And here we are. I'm not sure when the tone of our entries morphed from that of offering more cut-and-dried prayer requests to one of a more therapeutic, reflective, journalistic nature. (But is there really much of a difference between the two, when you get down to it?) But I came to view my postings no longer as an obligation to keep family and friends informed, but rather, it was becoming a personal NEED... an escape... therapy. And it was so humbling to see what God began to do with it. When things went from bad to worse... and then in turn from worse to utterly horrible... I asked Leslie what she thought of her growing "audience", and the public nature of her suffering. I offered to "pull the plug" on the blog... essentially, that she may "die in peace", (although of course, we didn't ever say it like that). Her response will always remain monumental in my life. Here's a paraphrase of what she told me, as she struggled for breath (even with the help of her oxygen line) that bittersweet morning:

"I've come to realize that this is my ministry. My calling. I don't like it. It's not what I wanted for a life-purpose. But I've always asked God, 'what do you want of me?'. And I realize that this is His answer. I don't know what He's got up His sleeve. We hope it's a miraculous healing. But whatever it is, I've got no choice but to give Him glory in it. It is my ministry. Look at all the people watching! And look at all He's taught US through this! We all have so much to learn from each other. God WILL reveal Himself through this. Whatever happens."

Praise God, amen! What a woman! Yes, YOU, our readers and friends, were indeed used by God Himself to give Leslie a vision and purpose in her suffering. YOU were the answer to so many of her questions, "WHY?" And indeed, YOU are the ones to whom God is still ministering through her. You are her legacy. I will never be able to show my full appreciation for this.

So... What is the prayer request I mentioned, in this instance, you ask? Good question, is my reply, and here's the deal...

I've developed a relationship with a publisher. While he will not be taking on our story to publish himself, he will basically be acting as my "agent". So weird to say... "I have an agent." I am just putting the finishing touches on a book proposal, which for now is entitled, Leslie's Journey. It is subtitled: God’s Story of Love, Life, Suffering, and Redemption in an Average American Family. And friends, I need prayer. I have no idea what to expect. It just seems as though a door has swung open before me, and I'm compelled to walk through it, to see what awaits me inside... (or is it "outside"?) My primary goal is to amplify and honor Leslie's ministry that I spoke of in a previous paragraph. But I'd be lying if I said I don't get excited, personally, about what God could have in store, lying on the other side of this door way. I need prayer for discernment. For protection. For humility. That I might just continue to follow Him into what could be the pending adventure, and not grasp at idols along the way. That the right opportunities might come along... and that the primary, secondary, and tertiary purpose, mode, and result of these opportunities might be that God is glorified-- that He reveals Himself, en masse, in the same way He has up to now, in this "ministry"... and then some.

I just wanted to share this all with you... ask you for prayer... for your wisdom and feedback. Jason (the publisher/agent dude) thought it'd be a good idea to kind of "unveil" the idea here, in this venue. Many of you have asked or made suggestions about this very thing, and indeed, I heard those words... and I thank you for your encouragement.

Well anyway... thanks for your consideration, compassion, and prayers. Back to work... and rebuilding a home.

p.s. Ginny- If you're still checking in on the "Leslie's Journey" site... do you mind giving a little "news brief" there? Thanks! :)

Starting the New Year With a SPLASH.

2009-01-05T10:51:00.003-06:00

TJ and I are happy and tan from our holiday get-away to Florida. We're now back home...

...at least what's left of it.

We were there for about a week and a half. We frequent New Smyrna Beach, FL, where my family has been vacationing since I was a little guy. We had a wonderful time with my family there. We figured it'd be a good thing to get out of the house this holiday season and get some sun. It turned out to be a great decision, on more than just the emotional front. My mind and body were just in GREAT need of a vacation, by the time we left, a few days before Christmas. I had no idea how stressful the holidays can be for a "single parent". Shopping was a debacle this year. Decorations? HA! Just a tree and a nativity scene. And then the special church services, family get-togethers, etc... and work got really busy, too, at the end of the year. I felt like I was chewed up and swallowed by the holiday season and then spit back out... but was happy to land on the beach to dry out a little. It was SO good.

Coming back from vacation is always a tough thing for me. We had planned on returning home in time for my big New Year's Eve plans (tongue-in-cheek... from a former post). It's hard enough to leave the beach, the ocean, the sun, and of course, the family-- we have such a good time together down there. And then, of course, there's the stress of traveling all that way back-- fly or drive, it's always an adventure with luggage and a 3-year-old in tow. And then, upon returning home, there's all the mail to catch up on and tidying up to do, settling back into home before heading back to work and the day-to-day routine. All of that is certainly compounded when the particular vacation from which you're returning is over the holidays-- a tree to take down, decorations and presents to put away... etc... This is what was on my mind as TJ and I spent last Tuesday traveling back home. Those were the thoughts that were on my mind as I opened up the garage door and carried TJ into the house. That first step is always a pleasant one-- you breathe in and smell the smells and feel the air of your own abode... it's like comfort instantly washes over you. "I'm HOME..."

That is, of course, unless that first step is accompanied with a SPLASH.

Chicago had near-zero temperatures, and wind-chills in the -30 to -40F range while we were gone. (Made me happy to be in Florida!) That weather was followed by 50-degree weather with a thunderstorm, I hear... which was in turn was followed by more freezing rain and snow. All of that was enough, as it turns out, to freeze, thaw, and re-freeze the pipe that goes from the water main in my house to the main-floor bathroom toilet. Which was enough to burst a plumbing joint.

I stepped into 2" of standing water on my main floor on Tuesday, when we returned home. The water was coming out with about the force of a high-pressure shower-head, straight out from the bathroom wall. I sloshed my way down to the basement to turn off the water main. On the way down, I realized that the stairwell walls were bubbling up like water baloons. Then, I splashed through my finished basement's carpeted floor to check the sump pump, rather in shock. The cellar/ sump room door was warped so badly that I had to nearly jerk it off its hinges to open it... Yes... It was that bad. It was literally RAINING in the cellar. Water pouring from the rafters, onto all of our belongings we had stored there. 2" of standing water on the unfinished concrete floor. All of our photo albums, collages, wall-art, keep sakes, knick-knacks, decorations, TJ's cradle and crib... all the things we hadn't had time to move into place in the month that transpired between our purchase of the house and Leslie's diagnosis, over a year ago... All destroyed. The "rain" from the bathroom above had filled every box, soaked every bag, saturated everything that was in the room... Boxes were literally pouring off of the shelves, into a soggy heap on the floor, they were so full of water.

Welcome home. And happy freaking new year.

Anyway... all is under control now. We're living in about half the house we were before we left for Florida, and will continue to be until February or March. That's the amount of time it will take them to get everything back to normal. They're currently "mitigating" the damages-- preventing mold, dehumidifying, drying, etc... Knocking out drywall and saturated insulation, tearing up flooring and sub-flooring. Reconstruction will probably start next week sometime. Fortunately, my guitars, all the furniture, recording "studio", pool table, etc... (all things if value that find their homes in the basement) were miraculously spared. But almost all of what was in the storage/sump room is completely a loss, or at least irreversably damaged. These are the things that will bring in the least amount of insurance benefit reimbursement. Just as well, because all of the money in the world can't buy those things back into existence. The men from my "small group" at church came over yesterday to help me go through everything-- trashing what was unsalvageable, inventorying it for insurance, and trying to save the rest of it. Insurance is taking care of the rest of it, minus my deductible. So there's really nothing else anything can do to help... It's just a matter of putting up with the inconvenience of having only half of a house (and a dusty, noisy, cluttered one at that) for the next couple of months.

Oddly enough... I've found the whole ordeal to be rather comical. The friend that brought us back from the airport that Tuesday even congratulated me for not letting a single "naughty word" fly, as we walked into and in turn assessed the mess. I admit there was a bit of a falling out with God over it. "Are you FREAKING SERIOUS!!?? I mean REALLY!!!!!???" I just kept on laughing/shouting, out loud. Yes, I was unbelievably frustrated... but it was more being "annoyed" with God than it was angry. I'm not afraid to get angry with Him... dont' get me wrong. But, hey, it's just a house, right? It's just "stuff". And it's even stuff I haven't used or even thought of for many months, at that. Everything that is important is still intact. TJ and I are safe, healthy, and actually "bonding" quite well, as we embark together on a new year... a fresh start. We still have a roof over our head, and most of our walls around us. We still have heat and water and comfy beds and an unscathed kitchen... not to mention the TV, computer, and all kinds of luxuries that 95% of the world will never possess. I'm thankful we've got good insurance... and a friend who's a plumber and just happened to be on his way home from work, 15 minutes away, when I called him that fateful Tuesday December 30th... and another friend who is a contractor specializing in basement finishing and reconstruction... and a bunch of friends who can come over and help me knock out about 3 weeks of sorting and salvage work in about 3 hours. The optimist in me even is looking forward to "starting over" with a clean basement, cleared storage area, new floors, new paint, and basically half of a new house, come March (or whenever the restoration/ reconstruction is finished).

I guess all we've been through this year has given me a new perspective on what is important... what is valuable, and what is "live-able"... What is a need, and what is a luxury. What is a "loss", in insurance terms, and what truly is a LOSS. Yes, 2008 will live forever in infamy, in the collective memory of TJ and me, family, and our friends. Might as well send it off with a bang. Or at least with a splash.

To Share the Cup

2008-12-26T07:13:00.003-06:00

So I've been following the dialogue from the last post pretty closely and praying through this whole topic of coming alongside a hurting, suffering, grieiving, etc... brother or sister. Thank you all for your contributions.

There was some imagery I stumbled upon in the aforementioned post that I've kind of taken a liking to. It was conjured up in my mind with more than a touch of irony and humor, but the more I thought about it, the more it rings true and profoundly applies to the topic at hand, at least in my twisted mind. The image is that of two people "sharing a glass" of wine at dinner. I originally mentioned it as an image of avoiding the betrayal of trust... (The quote follows, here-- and I apologize for having the audacity to quote my own blog, but it sets up the rest of this post...)

If I'm on a date, and my date offers me a taste of her wine (certainly a bold and intimate gesture), what would she do if I'd take the sip, and then get up from the table and go around the restaurant with her cup, offering sips of her wine to all the other patrons? Just because a friend shares with you a sip from his or her cup, it doesn't mean that it is in fact your cup to share with others.

I think we all get where I was going, there. But the thing that I keep coming back to, in reflection of this topic, is indeed that "glass of wine". Or the concept of "this cup", as a metaphor for various paths of struggle, grief, or intense suffering. There is something strikingly intimate and descriptive about the idea of sharing that glass of wine with someone-- the sweetness, the bitterness, the unique character and aroma, the personal exchange and sharing therein... Indeed, (not to equate any of our suffering with that of Jesus-- as if I need to clarify!), Jesus pled with The Father, on the eve of his crucifixion, that He "take this cup". And prior, He had challenged His disciples (who were quarrelling, ironically about which one was the greatest among them) and asked them, "Can you drink the cup I drink...?" That is... "can you really come along with me and taste of the suffering I'm about to endure? Can you bear this cross?"

This again brings me to a powerfully spiritual truth of the more eternal variety that keeps sprouting up into my life, through these past several months. THIS is the stuff that faith is made of. To drink from Christ's cup. To bear Christ's cross. The whole plan of the "salvation of man to God" centers around suffering, and then redemption. (So often we tend to want to fast-forward through the suffering part and just dwell on the redemption part.) That God should sacrifice Himself in His perfection-- humbling Himself from the highest place to the lowest (Merry Christmas, by the way)-- and pay the price for our sin/fallenness/unGodliness, by enduring-- and then succumbing to, and then overcoming-- some of the most disgusting and treacherous kind of suffering (and even death) anyone could possibly imagine. Remember-- in order to be able to "conquer the grave", He first had to be "sent to the grave"-- and that, not without intensely horrible suffering. So tell me, my Christian brothers and sisters... "Are you willing to drink this cup and bear this cross?" Is the Gospel you preach and hold to and live by a Gospel of happiness and comfort and the path of least resistance? Or is it the Gospel of the Cross? Of faith enduring-- even blossoming and coming to fruition-- in suffering?

This is extremely important to refresh in our minds as we dive further into the topic of "coming alongside a friend or loved one in their suffering", because this, my friends, is the very essence of the Gospel, as best I can tell... Living faith in suffering... "sharing the cup"... This is what I mean when I talk about "abiding" with someone-- or not trying to just "fix it". Until you have actually shared that cup-- tasted the bittersweetness of that wine-- you truly have no idea what you're even trying to fix. And just because you've tasted a different cup doesn't mean you know the fullness of what the cup of another contains.

Now, all you who are suffering, or have suffered-- a minute with you, if I may... Many of you have resonated with my "do-and-don't" lists from the previous post. But it needs to be understood that these guidelines for your family and friends are only going to yield positive "results", (or rather, "processes"), if we, in our suffering, are willing to truly drink our cup ourselves... and then share it. First of all, do you allow your suffering, grief, "healing", or whatever to point you to the Cross? Or is all your energy and focus pointed inward, at how badly this all sucks? Certainly it can be a good thing to call out to God in agony and dissatisfaction with your cup... but it is only good if, indeed, you are calling out to Him. Do you view your suffering as an honor and a privelege, as Paul did-- that you might be able to live the fullness of your faith through intense suffering as Jesus did? Do you who mourn understand why you're called "blessed"? Do you who are poor in spirit understand? What about you who are persecuted? Not that it makes you happy-- there's a different between "blessed" and "happy" (a fact that the American church doesn't always seem to grasp). But before any sort of "healthy grieving" or "faithful suffering" or "cross bearing" or "sharing of the cup" can take place... the person who has been given the cup needs to have both of his/her eyes fixed on that Cross. Otherwise, you are a slave to yourself-- to your own feelings and thoughts and humanness. And once you're there, you'd might as well just go buy a bunch of new-agey, secularly-humanistic self-help books. Because all of the abiding in the world isn't going to help you. Sitting on your duff and feeling sorry for yourself is not abiding. No, accepting your cup, drinking from it, and sharing it in faith with others, with eyes fixed on the Cross... now THAT's the abiding I'm talking about. It's the abiding the Lord was talking about when He said, "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me."

There's that fruit of the vine again... which brings us right back to the wine and the cup...

So this post is a bit all over the map, and perhaps more abstract. But this should have actually been the precursor to the "To Mourn With Those Who Mourn" post. This is the imagery that is on my mind when I think of suffering, and coming alongside those who are suffering. This is the concept that is flooding my mind as I write a more concrete, direct list of "Dos" and "Don'ts". It's not about comforting a friend in need. It's about sharing a cup.

To Mourn with Those Who Mourn

2008-12-19T08:42:00.010-06:00

I've received several comments, questions, emails, and have been in several conversations concerning a topic I've touched on previously-- most recently in the "Grieving with Gram" post-- the topic of of "coming alongside" a person in the midst of suffering, grieving, mourning, etc... From an insider's perspective, what recommendations can I make to the Church, to families, to friends, when it comes to "weeping with those who weep, and mourning with those who mourn"?
Certainly, there are important differences to be drawn between people who are suffering (ie, a terminal illness), and those who are mourning or grieving. And of course, different cases of "grieving" can look quite different-- a person who is recently widowed has quite a different set of circumstances from one who, say, has been recently divorced. (Even 2 recently widowed people's grief processes can look unimaginably different from the other's, regardless of how similar their situations seem "on paper".) So, I can't pretend to speak on behalf of all people grieving or suffering everywhere. (In fact, I was just sharing with a friend last night how there are so many "self-help" books on bookshelves that seem to try to boil down my situation-- grieving, single parenthood, etc...-- into a 5-step process, or a matter of right-and-wrong, or a check-list... and frankly, it just doesn't apply to me. Either I'm a freak, or the author is full of crap. Or maybe a bit of both.) However, there are similarities, too, we must admit, between individual journeys through grief, pain, suffering, mourning... "HEALING", we'll call it. (Indeed, sometimes a wound is so fresh and painful that we can't possibly fathom that we are actually already "healing". But many medical experts will acknowledge that the healing process indeed begins with the sensation of pain. Pain is not the absence of healing... it's the advent of it. Without pain, true healing cannot proceed.) Even those who are "dying" (as Leslie was), are still truly in the midst of their own journey of healing. So what do we do when we find ourselves in relationship with a "healing" person? (No matter how casual or intimate that relationship is... it is still a relationship.) How do we help? What do we say? What do we NOT say? How do we LOVE them?

An important part of the dynamic in a relationship between one who is suffering and one who is trying to come alongside the suffering person, is simply that the one who is suffering needs to be open to it. This is bad news, for all of you out there who have loved ones who are just simply unwilling to let you in. (But be careful, though, in your assessment of who is actually unwilling to "let you in". I know VERY FEW people who are truly unwilling to be loved. In fact, most who are truly this way are diagnosable with some sort of clinical disorder. Don't mistake "hard to love" with "unloveable"... don't mistake "reluctant to share" with "unwilling to share".) No matter how those of us who are "healing" want to hoard our sorrow or pain all for ourselves, we need to come to the realization that a) though our case may be somewhat unique, we still are indeed "suffering" like so many others, in different circumstances from our own; and b) it is good for our own souls and the souls of others to indeed let others "in" to our experiences. This is the divine plan of community. Humanity. The Church. The "social Gospel" (as it's been called) of Jesus. That being said... I just want to preface what I'm about to share with the firm assertion that there is no rule of thumb. No 5-step process to coming alongside a fallen or broken brother. No blueprint for loving those in greatest need.

With that being said, here's the best I can come up with, for now, from my own experience, and sharing in the experiences of others who are at various levels of their own "healing journeys". It's rough... it's not balanced... it may not seem "fair" for you outsiders-looking-in, as far as journeys of suffering are concerned. But it's real. I'll lay it out kind of as a quick reference tool... a list of "dos and don'ts". And I encourage dialogue on this! I'm still learning myself! These lists may need editing, amending, abridging, etc... in future blog posts. Please, leave your affirmations and dissentions alike-- your encouragement and discouragement from what you read-- in the "comments" section of this post, for all to see... this is such a healthy exercise for us all to embark on together... truly God-honoring... So, with a prayer to God and plea to you all for grace, I humbly give you my "Dos and Don'ts"... How to come alongside one who is suffering... or mourning... or healing... or whatever:

DON'Ts:

DON'T TRY TO FIX IT. Suffering is not something to be rescued from. It is something to be endured. It is God who heals. Not you. If your motive is to rescue someone, go to the Humane Society shelter and adopt a pet. If your motive is to love somebody, just be willing to abide with a person in their suffering, without trying to fix it.
DON'T GIVE UNINVITED ADVICE. If they want advice, they'll ask. If you're giving advice, you're just trying to "fix it". As a matter of fact, it just may be that your "healing" friend has more to teach you than they have to learn from you.
DON'T BE CLICHE. Yes, God has a plan. Yes, this too shall pass. Yes, Leslie is better off now. Yes, God is in control and He hears our prayers. But frankly, these are not truths to be uttered in passing, when one when one is grasping for words and can think of nothing else to say. If you've read it in a Hallmark card, just don't say it... no matter how true. (Indeed, if it's on a Hallmark card, just send them the card.) To the person who is suffering, hearing such things just gives the impression that the person doing the "encouraging" has no idea just how badly this sucks... that the person doing the speaking is really just trying to make him/herself feel better, and not really interested in sharing in the pain. Again, I am not dishonoring the truth of such well-known spiritual foundations. On the contrary... I'm just saying that some truths are actually dishonored or cheapened when they're offered as a band-aid, as a greeting of sorts, or as a passing blurb.
DON'T ASSUME YOU CAN "RELATE". It's one thing to try to understand and come alongside someone in their suffering. It's completely another to use someone's predicament as an opportunity to share your own sob story. The fact that your 90-year-old grandmother died following a stroke last year may be an unfortunate fact. But what you learned through the course of that experience is not likely to be applicable to your friend who just lost their 9-year-old daughter to leukemia. In fact, something that helped you when your own daughter died of leukemia might not even be helpful to that friend, either. NEVER say, "I understand just what you're going through, because..." Even if you think you can relate. It is much more fruitful to just say, "I can in no way fathom just what you're going through. I am sorry."
DON'T AVOID THE OBVIOUS. Don't pretend that nothing's wrong. Certainly, there is something to be said for just letting a friend escape their misery and have a conversation about something else. But you need to always be aware... be prepared to "go there"... be prepared to cry, to listen, to love.
DON'T AVOID THE PERSON. This might sound silly to have to say. But I know a family who, after the tragic death of a loved one, was literally abandoned by their church. I know of a man whose friends stopped calling, stopped asking to hang out, stopped loving them after being diagnosed with a terminal disease. "Not knowing what to say" is NOT an excuse for abandoning your friend or loved one. In fact, it is all the more reason to PURSUE them.
DON'T BETRAY TRUST. Don't gossip. If you are fortunate enough to have been allowed "inside"-- into the more intimate spaces of a suffering friend's heart and mind-- honor that by keeping it between the two of you. If you want, you may ask if you can have specific people (your family, your friends, your small group) pray for the matter. But don't assume that just because they shared it with you, that they want all of your friends knowing about it-- or even praying about it. If I'm on a date, and my date offers me a taste of her wine (certainly a bold and intimate gesture), what would she do if I'd take the sip, and then get up from the table and go around the restaurant with her cup, offering sips of her wine to all the other patrons? Just because a friend shares with you a sip from his or her cup, it doesn't mean that it is in fact your cup to share with others.

DOs:

BE PATIENT. There is no universal timeline. Don't dare to come alongside a person unless you are willing to persevere in patience... even if the person is never "healed" by your definition.

BE KIND. Gentle. A healing heart is fragile. Be kind even when the one you're being kind to is not. If you're not willing to take a punch and answer with a hug or at least a kind word, don't get into the ring.

REMEMBER: IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. If your suffering loved one snaps, pushes you away, does not accept your gestures, lashes out, crawls into a hole and avoids the light of day... Let it roll off your back-- do not let it affect how you are able to love them. It's just not about you. Likewise, if you're fortunate enough to find a word that actually brings encouragement, don't take credit. Give the glory to God, and just be happy for the one who is suffering, that they're actually encouraged. (As a side-note, this one was extremely difficult for me, as I learned to come alongside Leslie in her life-long struggle with depression... I know many out there can relate.)

HUG OFTEN. I don't care if it's weird. I don't care if they don't seem like the "touchy-feely" type-- or if you're not the "touchy-feely" type. There are actually clinical studies out there about the positive correllations between "healing" and "physical personal contact". If your loved one side-steps your efforts, try again later. To avoid hugging is to make a person feel as though he's been quarantined. My grief is not contageous by contact. Your love is though. Let me have it!

LISTEN. Just listen. Even if it's hard. Shut up and listen. Or to be more proper/biblical about it: "...be quick to listen, slow to speak..."

PRAY!! Offer to pray with the suffering person. Pray FOR the suffering person, every time the person enters your mind. Sure, pray for "healing", but don't just stop there. Pray for peace. Pray for revelation. Pray for strength to endure. (Both for your loved one, and for yourself, as you come alongside.) Ask what it is they need prayer for. If you find that you've gone a single day without praying for a person... well then... I guess you're not really "coming alongside", are you? Of all the gestures people have done for us through our "journey"-- all the gifts, all the acts of service, words of encouragement...-- it is the prayer of our friends, families, and even strangers for which we are most grateful.

SHARE YOUR PRAYERS. Be specific. Send a note, or tell them when you see them... For example: "Yesterday, I was thinking of you-- you were just heavy on my heart. And I prayed specifically for peace, and that you could just sleep through the night."

ALLOW FOR SPACE. Not to contradict "DO #4"... but sometimes, a person just needs some space. We just need to be alone sometimes. If you're wondering whether a person needs space or not... simply ask... "Do you just need some space right now?" This is a welcome question, speaking from experience, more so than "how can I help?". (Refer also to "DOs" #1 and #3, if you find yourself trying to love a suffering person who just needs space.)

GIVE RANDOM, THOUGHTFUL GESTURES. The best things we've received from people are the random, heart-felt notes... just to tell us they're thinking of us and praying for us. Or maybe, a box of cookies in the mailbox with a hand-written card. Or maybe a gift-card for Caribou with a note, "Coffee on me! I'd love to join you. Anytime. But no offense if you just want to enjoy this alone." Oh... and when you give random thoughtful gestures... attach no strings. Don't even expect a thank-you. Certainly don't expect a special seat at the greiving table. The fact that your friend received the gesture should be gratitude enough. (But don't, by the way, ask them whether they actually received it... this comes off as begging for a slap on the back. If it's that big of deal, send it certified mail or in some way that requires a signature.)

BE PERSONAL IN YOUR COMMUNICATION. Tell the person specifically what they mean to you... tell them specifically how their struggle is affecting your own life-- what you're learning, how you're losing sleep, how you've been encouraged, how you've struggled... even how you're angry at God or questioning His goodness. This most certainly does NOT contradict #3 above. In fact, I can speak on behalf of Leslie, that she just cherished the realization that her own journey was encouraging, challenging, revealing, etc... to others. That God was using her to reach and minister to other people. (This continues to be the greatest source of encouragement in my own ongoing journey.) (NOTE: See #4 in the "DON'Ts"... Do not mistake this "DO" to mean that you should be personal in relating your own story to a person who is suffering, in an attempt to show that you somehow "understand what they're going through".)
SAY SOMETHING. BUT SAY LITTLE. It's not okay to never talk about it or pretend someone isn't suffering. Granted, someone may not want to talk about their suffering at a given minute. But it is always a good call to just simply say privately, "I'm sorry you're going through what you are." Or, "I've been praying for you like crazy. Just wanted to let you know that." Or, "You've been on my mind a lot. I'd love to talk sometime." Or whatever. And be prepared to move on in the conversation on to a non-related topic. But also, be prepared to just linger there for awhile.
SPEAK AND ACT IN LOVE. Every word. Every deed. Every prayer. Cover it all in love... measure every motive with I. Cor. 13, and ask, "am I acting in LOVE here?": 4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8Love never fails.
LISTEN TO THE SPIRIT. The Holy Spirit, that is... If you're not a Christ-follower, I guess you can go ahead and disregard this one. But for those of you who call yourselves "Christians", this is one of the precise reasons why Jesus left us His Holy Spirit... to know how to love each other more fully into the grace, peace, joy, and truth of God. How do you know what's from the Holy Spirit, and what's just that burrito you had for lunch? Ask yourself, "Is this thought, word, gesture, etc... a 'fruit of the Spirit'?" "...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." (Gal. 5)

I could truly spend more time on this, and indeed, I hope to, via your comments, and perhaps subsequent posts. In the meantime... I guess I'll just wrap it up by saying, "Love each other well. Abide with one another in love. Don't fix. Don't rescue. Just abide."

Christmas with a Crank

2008-12-13T22:16:00.011-06:00

So I interrupt this dialogue (although it's not yet much of a dialogue) on compassion and grieving and more "important" issues, to just share a little frustration on a situational level. I've received some notes and comments here or there from curious "insiders" asking... "so how are you really doing?" or something along those lines. And as I say to all of those people, "What you see on the blog is what you get." Seriously... what do I have to gain here by pretending I'm doing better than I am? By giving God more credit than He deserves for what He's doing in this particular "healing process"? It's not to keep or please an audience, that's for sure... In fact, "analytics" tell me that more people read when things are really bad, than when things are good. (The old "train wreck" effect... Kind of like how people always hit the brakes when driving by an accident on the morning commute, even when their lane isn't really affected.) No... there's nothing to gain, in this venue, by pretending I'm doing better than I am. I know... it's weird, but I'm really doing this well. It's like some people are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there's no way I could really be doing this well, considering... Especially during the holidays...

**THUD** (That's the other shoe dropping.) (It's a big thud. I wear size 14's.)

Okay, so maybe that's a little over-dramatic. But in all seriousness, the last two days were definitely the hardest 48 hours I've endured this holiday season.

The summary is that TJ and I are now back at home at 432 Butterfly, having cut short our stay in Ohio for the Aschliman Family Christmas. The entire weekend was basically one giant "melt-down" exibit. Sure, there were times when TJ was okay... but the literal majority of the time was spent "managing" him... Either reprimanding him for making one of his cousins cry, or trying to console him in his own teary fit, or just cuddling him in his sweet little neediness. He was over-tired, over-stimulated, poorly-nourished... and... well... in my opinion... he just needed his Mommy.

After a 2+ hour struggle to get him to settle down and "get control" this afternoon at around nap-time (which I lost, by the way... my first ever such defeat... EVER...), I made the call to forego snowman building time this afternoon and dinner this evening and church with the family tomorrow, and we just called it a year and headed home. Christmas dinner at my parents is seriously an annual event of epic proportions. Perhaps my favorite meal of the entire year... and I'm a "foodie"... a culinary enthusiast. We're talking king crab legs, marinated petit filet mignon (my dad does better steaks than Ruth's Chris), some sort of greens salad with cranberries and walnuts or something, maybe au gratin or baby red-skin potatoes usually, some great wine, and my mom's specialty-- home-made tiramisu to finish it off. It seriously broke my heart to leave before dinner tonight. It's the family event of the year.

And poor TJ missed the snowman-fest this afternoon. Each of the boys (he has 3 boy-cousins on my side) got a snow-man kit for Christmas-- a plastic carrot-nose, a scarf and stocking cap, and button-char-coalie looking things for the eyes and smiles. They were going to put them to use this afternoon, as my parents had 3 inches of fresh pack-able snow on the ground.

Yes... He was that bad. Bad enough to miss all of this. If the dozen-or-so spankings didn't hurt his little rear end enough (remember, I view spanking as a "last resort"), certainly the damage he did to himself throwing his temper tantrums (he bruised his wrist at nap-time today, banging on the door, the floor, and his daddy) will be a stout reminder to him in the morning of his struggles. I was seriously brought to tears of frustration and helplessness several times. My poor family could only stand by and listen from afar as I tried to console, scold, reprimand, punish, or otherwise extend grace to a horribly behaved 3-year-old. Again... he was over-stimulated, over-tired, and oh... by the way... I was trying to get him to lie down in the 4th different bed this week.

How can I NOT begin to really doubt myself? How can I not sense that this is somehow unraveling? How can I not come to the sudden understanding of my own limitations as a father and as a person and realize there's just no way I can "do this". How can I not at least start to wonder if I'm ruining the life of this little child? The weekly travel my job requires... The commitments I try to keep up with... But seriously, do I say "no" to a family Christmas? Do I quit my job or simply tell a customer "no, I can't make it this week, ask my competitor to take my place"? Do I tell my church, "sorry... can't serve... find someone else"? Do I run the risk of literally driving myself insane and cut out my work-out or "quiet" times? (If you suggest a simple "yes" to any of these rhetorical questions, please don't you dare say so out loud... You can't possibly understand the depth of the conviction of my priorities... not that any of these compares to the priority I put on my son... But herein lies the crux of the rhetoric.)

You see, my friends... Family life was simply meant to be managed in partnership between a husband and wife, at least as my my own personal experience has revealed it. I could use this as an opportunity to get on my marriage/divorce soap-box, but I've already been there and done that. (See "Choices"-- posted September 11, 2008 on this same blog.) I learned early on that I cannot be a mommy to TJ. I can only be me-- his Daddy. I cannot be Leslie. Though, as I've mentioned before, she has indeed left parts of her with me-- some of her discernment, her personality, her quiet strength... all these things and more will always be a part of me (which is why she will always be "my better half"). But even in my best moment as a man and a father... even in my best moment when I'm wielding the weapons she left me with before leaving this life... I am still only a fraction of the parenting machine we were together.

I confess, as I drove back toward Chicago this afternoon, (after all his obstinance at bed-time and nap-time at Mimi and Papa's house, TJ fell asleep in his car seat-- not 10 minutes into the 3.5 hour drive back home), I was frustrated. Defeated. Full of doubt. I would have been angry, had I been able to muster up the strength. But I was just spent. I asked God, similarly as I have before... "Certainly, Lord... This cannot be more pleasing to You than the way it was before... When we were a 'whole family'??!!! Certainly, this is not Your better judgment... to have her be with You, and not here!? Certainly, TJ needs his Mommy... I need my wife and my partner... more than you need her there...??!! HOW IS THIS BETTER!!!?? HOW IS THIS YOUR WILL??!!"

...

A very dear friend of mine turned me on to a Christian singer-songwriter named JJ Heller. JJ sings a song-- presumedly to her son or daughter, or at least through the voice of a parent to his/her child-- called "keep you safe". My friend says this song has always brought me and TJ to mind. It goes like this:

Quiet your heart. It's just a dream. Go back to sleep.
I'll be right here. I'll stay awake as long as you need me

To slay all the dragons and keep out the monsters. I'm watching over you.

My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.

You'll have your own battles to fight when you are older.
You'll find yourself frozen inside. But always remember...

If you feel alone, facing the giants, and you don't know what to do...

My love is a light driving away all of your fear.
So don't be afraid. Remember I made a promise to keep you safe.

This song is beautifully sung and written. I used to envision myself singing it to TJ... or maybe God singing it to me. It has just been lately-- in the midst of bouts with the "Terrible Threes", similar to what we experienced this weekend-- that I've learned to listen to this song with a new outlook... Namely... That God is singing this song to TJ.

You see... This weekend is only a reminder. A gut-check. Am I really trusting that God has me planted firmly in the palm of His hand? And, if in my wreckless abandon, it becomes too easy to just take that leap of faith-- (After all... what, at this point, do I have to lose?? My life? What life do I truly have left to live, compared to that which I've lost?)-- what about when it comes to TJ? Do I trust that God has TJ's best interest in mind? Do I trust that He will provide for TJ? Even in the face of the full understanding of my own inadequacy as a single parent? If God is God-- Lord of my life-- then He is Lord of TJ. If He is providing to meet my needs day-by-day, then certainly, He will provide even more fully for TJ. "Let the little children come unto me..."

Again... I hear the words... whispers evolving into booms like thunder... "In your weakness, I AM MADE STRONG!!!"

God, bless my child. I am incapable of loving him and caring for him and guiding him and nurturing him the way Leslie would, if she was here. But You took her from us. Certainly, You will provide in her absence...? But how!? In faith, Abraham laid Isaac on the altar. In faith, I give TJ to you. Teach me, Father. And where I fall short... show Yourself strong.

Grieving with Gram

2008-12-12T11:37:00.013-06:00

I am currently living in an experiment, of sorts. A case study on grief and suffering. I've learned so much about the human experience, about God's desire to be known even in our suffering, about how inadequate the Church seems to be when it comes to compassionately coming alongside a grieving a suffering person, and about how we (perhaps as a result of all of the above) tend to neglect ourselves the opportunity to fully experiencing a more honest and even more Godly type of grief and suffering. We bottle up, sweep under the rug, "claim healing", and basically ignore the real weight of the cross we bear. Or, we simply don't know how to "deal" with it, and we let it consume our lives.

The most powerful "teaching moments" which God is using to speak into my own life are those where I'm relating personally with others in situations similar to my own-- those who are experiencing grief, suffering, and so-on-- be it the loss of a loved one, terminal illness, or what-have-you. A very interesting and complex example of this type of relationship is the one I have with Leslie's family... MY family, I guess... We all loved the same Leslie, witnessed the same tragedy together, yet each of our own "journeys" have been so different, these past 5 months. What follows is an email conversation that took place between my mother-in-law, ("Gram", as TJ calls her; "Mom", as I call her), and myself this past week, shortly after I posted my previous entry.

------------------------------------------------------------
From: Vicki Bucher vickibucher@yahoo.com
To: Tyson Aschliman tyson_aschliman@yahoo.com
Sent: Tuesday, December 9, 2008 4:47:42 PM
Subject:

Hi Ty... your posts have become part of the healing process for me. I can't read them without crying, which is ok, because they really make me think and help me work through my pain and broken heart. I am very thankful and happy that Indy was so good for you. I know if must have been very healing for your friends there also. So THANKS for being you and for being my son-in-law! My prayers keep changing, depending on my needs I guess, but for the past week I have asked for a spirit of gratitude, for His mercy and grace and for healing for my broken heart. Now I've added help me to "surrender" to His will. I ask for forgiveness for my doubts and fears and anger. I'm trying to focus on the living, and all of the good things in my life. So, anyway, little by little, I think I am going to make it. Did WI get the snow they were predicting? Take care and get back safely. I love you.

mom

------------------------------------------
From: Tyson Aschliman tyson_aschliman@yahoo.com
To: vickibucher@yahoo.com
Date: Thursday, December 11, 2008, 9:29 AM
Subject: Re:

Being able to pray for healing of your own broken heart is an important step, I've learned, Mom. Not sure if I told you the story or not... As you know, those first two months were some sloppy, snotty, messy, teary months for me. I was a wreck. That's basically how I envisioned "grieving" being. Certainly, there were positives, and I learned a lot, and God was right there with me, as He was with Job and Solomon and David and Jesus as they wept and mourned and "suffered". But interpersonally, I wasn't really much good to anyone. I was basically paralyzed, emotionally and spiritually. And I know that's okay. Some people are still "there", years after losing a loved one... and God can be honored in that, too. But one morning, a week or two after the last memorial service, I just cried out and said "UNCLE"! Here's a summary of a prayer I prayed that morning, on me knees, weeping in the shower, trying to get up the energy to get myself ready for work:

"God, I miss her. I thank You for her. I will stay here forever and weep and mourn and grieve her loss-- I loved her THIS MUCH. But God, You took her from me. She is no longer here. No longer my wife. She is now Your beautiful bride. And I am left here to live without her. God, I don't desire to live without her. But I desire to desire to live again. God, either hold me here to suffer forever until You take me home as well, or pick me up and heal me and teach me to live again. But Lord, do not wait. Waste no time. If You are going to move, then get on with it and heal me. Because I'm no good to anyone like this. I'm certainly not any good to Leslie like this. Be glorified in my grief or be glorified in healing me. But if you're going to move, get on with it. My life is yours."

You see, Mom, I was somehow deeply attached to my grief. Like it somehow made me feel closer to Leslie. It was a proverbial shaking of my fist at the cruelty of the world, to suffer like that. "I'll show YOU how bad this life SUCKS!!! Look at me now! Feel this PAIN!" That is certainly all part of the "healing process"-- a necessary and yes, even God-glorifying one. But again, I reached the point where I said that prayer (above) that morning in the shower. I didn't necessarily want to be "freed" of that grief... but I wanted to WANT to live again. (Because frankly, in that deep and dark place of grief, I can't say I truly desired to live again.)

Anyway... Like I said... it wasn't immediate. But I believe that moment was the beginning of what I can only describe as the miraculous healing that I've come to acknowledge today... this "filling back up" of my heart by God, according to His unpredictable will and wonderful grace. Two weeks later, I was getting ready for work again, and it dawned on me, as I sat on my bed, buttoning up my shirt, looking at all our photos on the dresser... I wasn't crying. In fact... I hadn't cried in days. (Previously, I had been crying dozens of times a day.) Actually, I was smiling... smiling at how pretty she was... at how happy we were. But it was this crazy awakening to the fact that the sadness was indeed being replaced with nostalgia. "Missing her" was being replaced with beautiful memories. It used to be, at night, when I missed her most, that I would close my eyes tightly, squeezing out tears, and try to imagine her beside me... holding my big body pillow, pretending it was her, almost willing her back to life... back to my side. But I began to realize, as I caught myself smiling at her pictures that morning, rather than crying, that something was changing in my heart... and it wasn't from me. I began to realize that in fact, God heard that prayer... and even more amazing... he was answering it... with a "yes", even! (I'd forgotten that He does that, from time to time... gives us the desires of our hearts...)

I called Anna (Leslie's and my friend, who I spoke of in the "Indy" post) that morning to share the revelation with her, told her about the prayer on that morning 2 weeks prior, and it brought tears to her eyes. That previous week, she had had a dream where Leslie visited her from Heaven, and the two friends hung out and watched Will and TJ play together, just like they'd always dreamed. Leslie was beautiful, Anna tells me-- more beautiful than ever. Glowing-- almost like Jesus, post-transfiguration. And she was happy. She just kept saying, "Anna, I can't believe how happy I am now. I'm SO HAPPY!" (This, of course, is significant because of how Anna walked with Leslie through her regular bouts with depression.) They talked for awhile about Sarah (Anna's sister who had gone to Heaven years prior) and Heaven and Anna was so encouraged, and then Leslie said, "Anna, I want you to tell Tyson how happy I am... And part of that is seeing that they're doing well. I just want them to be happy, and I see that they will be... and I see that it's starting now. And I just want them to know that that makes me so happy." At that point in the dream, I showed up... knocked on the door. Anna said, "Tyson, guess who's here!" And we both turned around and Leslie was gone. She didn't want to be seen by me, according to Anna's interpretation, because she was afraid it would affect the "healing process" or whatever, that God was doing. Crazy, huh? Anyway, this was just confirmation that there was something eternal and powerful at work, here.

Anyway, I share that with you, because it's right in line with what you're talking about... beginning to pray for God to heal your broken heart. Mom, we'll never get over Leslie. She'll always be my wife-- my better half. She'll always be your daughter-- your flesh and blood. But part of life-long grieving is learning to live your life again... letting your loss teach you to love better. And we can be confident that Leslie is, indeed, "in better hands now". I keep saying it, because it rings truer every time I confess it... Leslie wouldn't give up a single breath now, in exchange for another whole 7 years back here with me, even as great as those 7 years were. She's just in a better place now.

I've seen so many examples of what can happen when we get caught in this "twilight zone" of mourning/ suffering-- when a family can't learn to live without a loved one. Where surviving family members are still in a place with their grief and loss where it is basically preventing them from loving the others that remain in their lives. People can cling to their grief to the point that depression and other issues can slip into their lives, "paralyzing" them, preventing them from acting on their love the way they should. Or perhaps people bottle it up, hiding it from the world, lest they be viewed as weak-- lest others be compelled to come "rescue" them, which would make matters only worse. Certainly, it is not a waste of effort to grieve a loved one. It is not a waste of tears to cry and weep. But there is a point where we need to let it make us into better people. God will do that, if we abide in Him. He will make you a better mom (as if that's something any of us could actually fathom). :) He'll make me into a better man-- a better husband, even, someday. He'll make us a stronger family. If we can trust Him with Leslie... if we can abide in Him here, in her absence. That's not to be equated with saying we're "getting over it". On the contrary... we are learning to live without her... or rather, we are learning to live with her absence. We are allowing her life and death and the completion of her life again, here and now, to change us... To transform us-- not entirely different from how she has been transformed-- into better versions of ourselves, because we can taste the sweetness of Heaven through her. We can have the blessing of a fuller understanding of the Gospel... of hope and grace and peace and eternal love... BECAUSE of our suffering-- not "in spite" of it. But before we "get there", we need to be willing to let God heal our hearts... We need to be willing to at least want to live again. Even "without" Leslie. And that, I know first-hand, is the hardest thing to do.

Mom, one other thing I'll encourage you to do, as I've learned to do via my study of Job and David and Solomon and Paul and the others... (I'm truly sorry to be "giving advice", but you, I sense, could stand to hear this-- and it's not from me... it's simply what God is teaching me...) Don't just ask for forgiveness for your doubts and fears and anger, as you said in your previous note... POUR THEM OUT to God. Don't hide them from Him. His grace is big enough to cover them. His holiness will not be affected negatively because you dare to tell Him just how pissed off you are at Him. Or how much you doubt that He is actually listening to you... Or the dissonance in your own mind between knowing that He is a loving and compassionate God, but just not feeling it at any given moment. In fact... in that place of honest confession and "wrestling" with Him (you DO know where Israel got his name, right?)... it is in THAT place that His grace abounds all the more. Where the Gospel comes alive. Where God is glorified as He stands up and eventually says... PEACE. BE STILL. MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT. I AM YOUR GOD, AND YOU ARE MY CHILD.

Mom, I'm still wrestling. I always will. But I'm letting Him teach me to live and love better through it. That's all this is. I've given Leslie over to Him, and accepted my "cross", so to speak. I'm not ignoring my cross... I'm bearing it.

Anyway... That's what I have to say about that this morning. I could go on, but it would become redundant, if it hasn't already... Know that I love you, and I want you to know that I will forever love and cherish and honor your daughter, in the eternal/ spiritual sense, (as I can no longer do that in the physical sense-- she is no longer here), even as I bear this cross and "move on"-- and even do so in joy... even "happiness" at times. Seriously... Would Leslie want it any other way for us? I miss her, too Mom. And I smile at the memories every day, giving thanks to God for the life she lived, and the life she gave me.

Talk to you soon.

Ty

--------------------------
From: Vicki Bucher vickibucher@yahoo.com
To: Tyson Aschliman tyson_aschliman@yahoo.com
Sent: Friday, December 12, 2008 10:28:42 AM
Subject: Re:

Ty,

I seriously don't know why it took me so long to specifically ask for healing for my broken heart ( I guess my heart hurt too much!) I totally hear you about that deep and dark place of grief and not truly desiring to live again. That was me for sure. Since I've been praying for the spirit of gratitude and for His mercy and grace and HEALING of my broken heart...I can honestly say I am doing much better. Your prayer in the shower asking Him to teach you to live again..I am going to continue to ask that. I just think I've been too weary to even know what to ask Him and that is certainly what I want (at least now)-- I want to live again.

Your post on the pouring out was very helpful to me also. I really don't believe I was pouring out and after reading that I was making more of an effort to do that, not only to Him but being willing to do that to friends ... really sharing how I'm doing etc. I was holding back before that I think. Even to the point of avoiding people (I'm very good at dodging/avoiding people that I thought would bring it up & just reopening the wound). I began to just let the tears come when they wanted to with people, not running away from my emotions.

Anna's dream is just so real..I am so jealous. I have not had any dreams about Leslie. I can't figure that out. Dad, Dana, and Chris have dreams about her whether bad or good, but I can't remember having any dreams about her. I sleep like a rock, which is good I guess. Maybe God thinks I'm not ready for a dream, I don't know. But her dream WOW. The depression thing with Anna and Leslie...I am so very thankful that Leslie is free of that. You were an intregal part of her dealing with that, Ty. THANK YOU. She was doing so well considering everything that was going on. Thanks for loving her so much. You know, I almost always tell people "she's in a better place now or I say she's in better hands now" when they ask how I'm doing. And I hear you, each time I say that I'm REALLY beginning to believe it! Your description of how some families do or don't deal with a loved one's death is certainly something that we don't want our family to become. You are so right-on with your understanding of how we could get to that point. I am using Gerald Sittser's book on grief as a "reference" for lack of a better word. It has been so helpful to me. I can't remember if Gayle gave you a copy of it or not. His approach to his own loss of his wife, mom, and daughter in an accident basicly is what you are saying. We will never get over our loss, but we will "absorb" it and it will become a part of us. We will not be delivered from suffering, but with God's help we can be transformed by it.

As far as my asking for forgiveness for fear, doubt, anger, etc...this pouring out thing is new to me. Imagine that! I guess I didn't see it as I am hiding them from Him as He is all seeing, all knowing, so He knows how I am feeling. So, ok, I will POUR them out to Him. It's beginning to make sense. Nobody is ever too old to learn, right? But I am recognizing that the pouring out concept is making the burden somewhat lighter. Thanks Ty for taking the time to write to me. It was not redundant...I know I will read and reread it. I want to move on also and joy and happiness is gradually returning. I have so many wonderful things to live for including YOU AND TJ. Thank God for His many blessings in my life. I have to say everytime I look at the sky I see Leslie's smiling face/ the picture of her on the large posterboard with the sky backdrop and the 3 Trees verse. I miss her and I'm mad! How's that for pouring out?

Have a great weekend in OH. love you so much

mom

Weekend in Indy

2008-12-08T11:11:00.003-06:00

Work took me to the Indianapolis area Thursday and Friday of last week. The old stomping grounds. Where Leslie and I first met, dated, were married, lived... We still have many close friends and family there. I decided to bring TJ along with me on Wednesday night, and we made a little mini-vacation out of it and stayed through the weekend. When I wasn't working, I got to spend some time with old friends-- some of whom I hadn't seen in over a year. TJ got to spend a day with his cousins Tori and Jonathan, as well as some quality time with other friends of his in the area. It was just all so good.

Since moving to the Chicago area, whenever visiting Indy, we had always stayed with Leslie's dear friend Anna and her husband Rob. TJ and I saw no reason to change up our accommodations this trip, and Anna was pleased to have us invite ourselves over for the stay, as we always would have. TJ has always just felt at home there, and now Anna and Rob have a 1-year-old of their own, whom TJ was excited to play with (he LOVES being with other kids). Leslie and Anna used to talk about how they'd get their kids together and play for a weekend here and there, once they both had kids to share with each other. Last weekend, the two friends got to live their dream. TJ and William hit it off wonderfully. TJ was very "gentle" with "Baby Will", and Will got a huge kick out of TJ-- giggling his 2-toothed baby belly laugh at TJ's antics.

Anna's family is no stranger to loss and suffering in their own right. Anna is one of 5 sisters. One sister, Sarah, is now partying in Heaven with Leslie, having gone before her about 3 or 4 years ago, after completing her own war with cancer. Leslie walked with Anna through Sarah's sickness years ago. At Sarah's memorial service, I experienced grief and emotion and tears like I never had before. I was almost embarrassed, because certainly I'd been to other "funerals" before, and here I was, bawling my eyes out, literally brought to my knees in seemingly unbearable pain... and I hardly even knew Sarah. I only knew Anna, and her only through Leslie, really. I was just so overwhelmed and shocked by my own response. I know now that God was weaving this family into a special place in my heart. Years after that day, Anna walked with us through Leslie's battle with cancer. Anna and Leslie had their own language-- were so similar in their spirits, personalities, and hearts that they could seemingly communicate with each other the depths of their own souls without hardly saying a word. To be honest, I used to be jealous of Anna, in this regard... I had to work so hard to understand Leslie... and to be understood by her. Anyway, Anna was such a blessing to Leslie, and Leslie to Anna, throughout the life of their friendship.

As Leslie got sicker, Anna and her family were remarkably encouraging to us-- and to me, especially after Leslie died. I know now that God was cutting into my heart, that day of Sarah's service, making a place for this family, that they could speak into me and encourage me the way they have these past few months (a period which has also been difficult on their family-- not only losing Leslie but dealing with the death of a dear grandpa, amid other trials). TJ and I got to hang out with Anna's whole family this weekend-- sisters, parents, brothers-in-law-- and it was a truly wonderful time.

A friend of mine had tickets to the Colts game on Sunday-- a 35-3 mauling of the Cincinnati Bungles (not a typo)-- so Rob and I were happy to fill a couple of seats there with some other buddies. And on Saturday night, I got to meet up with bits and pieces of the old "crew" in Broadripple-- where Leslie and I used to meet up with friends in the area. It was a new experience, to sit around a table with familiar faces without her at my side, busting my chops and loving on me all at the same time. It was encouraging and heart-wrenching to look into the teary eyes of people we once loved together-- some of whom had not seen Leslie or myself in years-- as I recounted bits of her story. As we shared tears and beverages and laughter and hugs and stories and memories. It is just so surreal to be reminded that these are people who are grieving Leslie, and they have not really had the daily experience of "living without her" to help them along their way. It's like it was almost as therepeutic for them as it was for me, to sit there and listen as I spilled my guts and wrestled out loud with the thoughts and events of the past year-plus. Crazy...

This is just so much different than I expected. I never thought it would feel this "normal" to just sit around a table at the Broadripple Brewpub or Ambrosia, or at Anna's house, or wherever with our group of friends and/or family, minus Leslie, and just remember her... to talk about life and death and God's love and suffering and how it all somehow makes more sense now, when piled all on top of itself. It is odd to look across the table and see tears as I share stories with friends who I have not talked to in months or even years, who miss Leslie dearly... It is beautifully heart-wrenching to witness their grieving of my wife, whom I am learning to live without. That's what this is, you know... Living. Certainly, without her... But living, nonetheless... Living all the more. Carrying her with me. Telling stories. Sharing her legacy. Partaking alone of the cup we once shared. And somehow... enjoying it...? It is just all too... perfect.

Indeed, one cannot fully experience life until one has experienced death. One can only know joy to the full extent that one has fully known suffering. One has not lived by faith until one has experienced true trial. Those words of Paul, of Jesus, of Job, of David, of Solomon, of Peter, of John... that Truth has never been truer... My faith has never been stronger. Life has never been fuller. Now that I'm home and back to work, with those memories of beautiful moments and conversations of the last several days in Indy fresh in my mind, I again praise God and give Him thanks for Leslie. I've said this before, but each day it is even increasingly so... She taught me how to love. She taught me how to die. And she is teaching me how to live.

Happy Holidays (so far)

2008-12-01T13:58:00.005-06:00

So "they" told me to expect the worst this holiday season-- our first holidays without Leslie. You know "them"... "they" are really good and wise bunch of people. And "they" are indeed right more often than "they" are wrong. But in this case, I seem to be avoiding the fate "they" had prescribed... so far, at least.

Sure, there have been sentimental moments-- even difficult or sad ones. Here is just a sampling:

Just the other night, I was pondering with a friend my New Year's Eve plans. December 31 was always a great night for Leslie and me. We'd typically spend it alone, watching movies on the couch, enjoying the sentiment of the moment together, sharing bottle of wine. Perhaps we'd celebrate with one or two other couples, but we just weren't New Year's Eve partiers. And (no offense to the dear friends we've spent New Year's Eve with in the past), the most special "Midnight, January 1" moments were just spent alone-- she and I and our bottle of wine. We'd fall asleep on the couch, often before midnight, even. We'd wake up with couch-sleep-stiffened necks in the wee-hours of the new year, have our kiss, and then go to bed. And now, I find myself wondering... "What do I do this year?" (I'm not soliciting invitations, by the way. In fact, currently, I'm leaning toward just doing it like we always would... Put TJ to bed, watch a movie, have a glass of wine, and share the moment with the memory of her... blow a figurative kiss goodbye to 2008 and all the terror and beauty and suffering and victory and peace and love it wreaked on our lives, and welcome in 2009-- a new year... another chapter... Only maybe instead of a kiss, there will be a prayer... maybe even before I fall asleep on the couch. I'm rather looking forward to it, to be honest.)

TJ and I decorated the tree on Saturday-- a beautiful and full 7-ft. Frazier Fir with white lights and all the decorations we've accumulated over the years, complete with a little toy train running around the base (TJ's favorite part). It was such a wonderful time together. TJ took great pride and joy in precisely hanging each decoration. He kept looking outside and asking if it was going to snow soon. (Much to his joy, we got 3" Sunday night.) Indeed, a beautiful pallet of new memories is being painted onto a new canvass, which TJ and I will adore forever. But how do I not miss Leslie in all of that?

Christmas decorations were always Leslie's department. I always set up the tree in the stand and hung the lights on it, and then she took over with the decorations while I'd go outside and do the yard lights. After decorating the tree with TJ on Saturday, I ran out of time and wasn't able to get to my usual outside lights responsibility. So, we only have a tree-- a beautifully lit and decorated one at that, with its festive little toy train and the angel on top. But the outside lights will have to wait. Along with the rest of the inside decorations-- I had no idea how much of a task it is just to dig all the wreaths and garland and candles and nativity scenes and knick-knacks out of storage... And I have NO freaking idea WHERE she actually PUT all this stuff, once it was out of the boxes. It is all so overwhelming and emotional to assess and try to make sense of in my mind. I realize now how much I'd overlooked the sentiment attached to all those silly little decorations.

Thanksgiving with her extended family was so different. A good share of my time was spent playing basketball with the men, as is the tradition. But come dinner time, I became suddenly acutely aware that nothing else was the same. I felt that I didn't know how to just engage in casual conversation with anyone-- and I sensed they kind of felt the same way with me. I mean, how will these people-- this family that has adopted me into their fold-- ever again look me in the eyes without immediately being consumed with thoughts of Leslie? I felt loved, to be sure... appreciated, admired, even... but more than that, there was this feeling of Leslie being missed. It's the type of thing that is to be expected, and easily predicted... but the reality of it didn't sink in until the moment was upon us.

There are plenty more little examples like these, but I've already spent too much time pondering these things in this post, relative to number of "sad times" I've actually experienced, proportionate to the "happy times", so far this holiday season. You see, as I sit back and try to take "inventory" of how TJ and I are doing this holiday season, I have to say, we're doing very well. I can greet people whole-heartedly with the oft-cliche' "Happy Holidays" mantra, everywhere I go... And not feel remotely guilty or dishonest for it. I have been nearly overwhelmed this young holiday season-- as I had in the previous couple of months-- with this deep sense of passionate peace... this joy... this life. I can taste TJ's excitement as he anticipates seeing family, friends, snow, presents, and Santa Claus men. (I don't know if he's buying that there's just one Santa Claus, by the way... But rather, there are just men at the mall that dress up like that... not much different from Halloween, in his mind. And Leslie and I made the decision together last year to not really push the Santa Claus legend/myth much.) Anyway, he's excited about the season. And I am too.

On Thanksgiving Day, I began embarking on the endeavor of sending out "thank-you" notes to the hundreds of people who sent us gifts (financial and otherwise) over the past 15 months. Leslie and her mom had begun keeping a "tab" of all the gifts that were so generously and abundently arriving daily in the mail. I know some were missed or overlooked, but I think we recorded most of them. It was always Leslie's goal to sit down, "after this was all over" (in her words), and hand-write little thank-you cards to everyone, much like we did after our wedding. But alas, I am a mere man. A glorified form letter will have to suffice. But as I address the envelopes, and write recipient-specific little footnotes as I sign each card, I review the list of gifts and the people that sent them-- so many people I don't even know. And I am truly humbled and grateful for the love of Christ exemplified-- in fact lived-- through this "list" of people over the past year-plus. Anyway, in this glorified thank-you form-letter, which I penned on Thanksgiving Day, I reflected:

Today, as I ponder the memories with which Leslie left us, I am not sad. Maybe it’s just the holiday spirit… but I’m truly thankful. I’m thankful for the amazing seven years of life she gave me. I’m thankful that she’s no longer suffering, and that she is now complete in all her beauty and splendor, united with her Lord in perfect love. And I’m thankful for the life she has left us to live. I’m thankful for her today, just as I have been for the last 7 Thanksgivings. How I wish I could tell her myself, as I have each of those last 7 Thanksgivings! Instead, today, I say yet another prayer, and ask Jesus if He can let her know, on my behalf.

What I’ve really been trying to get my arms around, in terms of my gratitude this Thanksgiving Day, 2008, is how each of YOU— my family, friends, and even some strangers— have been such a wonderful example of God’s goodness, grace, and provision, in very real and tangible ways, to our family this past year-plus. Certainly, there was so much pain, sadness, hardship, tears, suffering… even death. But you— the Body of Christ— were indeed light in the darkness. Your prayers and encouragement got Leslie through many difficult days, and they continue to do the same for me these days. And perhaps even more humbling was how you all rushed to our aid in generosity and benevolence… truly a tangible symbol of God’s grace and provision.

There is a Glen Phillips song that Leslie and I used to listen to on the way to her radiation and chemo treatments. It's an up-beat, rock-style song. We'd blast it in the car when she needed a little "pep-talk". The words of the chorus simply repeated... "We've both got a lot to be thankful for. We've got a lot to be thankful for..." (and so-on.) That was her attitude-- our attitude-- in her darkest days. It is my attitude this holiday season. How can I be overwhelmed with sadness when I have so much for which to be thankful? How can I be lonely when I'm surrounded by the very tangible love of God, as lived by His people-- you, my readers, supporters, friends, and family? How can I be absorbed in the morbid thoughts of death when the reality of Heaven is so much clearer to me now? How can I mourn life lost, when the life I've gained is as full and beautiful as it is? And how can I get lost in wishing Leslie back to earthly life, when I have the reality of the life of this beautiful little boy she gave to me... and all the life he gives me?

Yes, I've got a lot to be thankful for. A lot to be joyful about. "Peace on earth..." "Emmanuel, God with us..." "For unto us a child is born..." The gift of new life. Completion of a covenant. Victory over death. And sparkly trees, toy trains, snow, and Santa Claus men at the mall...

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Prayer and Suffering

2008-11-23T16:03:00.010-06:00

A friend asked me a question this week that really got my wheels spinning out of control. Which means, typically, there's a blog post a-brewin'. The question went something like this: "What's the point of prayer, really? Especially when we don't get what we pray for?" My friend is walking alongside another friend, who is currently facing quite a long journey of suffering, and was just discouraged that true prayer seemed to require more energy and time and emotion and thought than it is worth. Now, set this up against the backdrop of what I've lived this past year-- the recollection of the prayers I've prayed, the "answers" (or lack of answers) to those prayers-- and what I've learned as a result about faith and life and death and life again, and WHAM-- you've got the title of this post. The intersection of ideas of life and death; suffering and blessings; hope and doubt; our desires and "God's will"; namely, this crossroads we call "prayer".

What does it mean when I don't get what I pray for? Or even... when it seems that God hears my prayer, sees my faith, my sincerity, my humility, my anguish, and then seemingly CHOOSES to give me exactly the OPPOSITE of what I requested? Or even worse... seemingly chooses to IGNORE me?

Cutting right to the chase, let me get specific... Did God not hear our requests to heal Leslie? Certainly He would have been GLORIFIED in showing up in a miraculous way-- an obvious "sign" to doctors and lookers-on that He IS present, and active, and powerful... Indeed, "Mighty to Save", even in the earthly sense. Did He ignore us? Why did He do just the opposite? Why did He let cancer kill her? Why did He have her suffer like that, in spite of our prayers to the contrary?

Was it my/our "lack of faith"? Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." I wasn't asking to move a mountain... I just wanted God to cure a little cancer.

Or, as I plunge into the darker parts of my mind and soul... Does God just not care? Or perhaps... does He delight in our suffering? Like some cosmic screen-writer, trying to devise the saddest of stories that He can let unfold before Himself so that His bored and under-utilized heart-strings might be tugged on a little?

Here's another good one: Why pray if He's just going to do "His will" anyway, regardless of what I desire with all of my being-- as insignificant and sinful as my being is?

These questions are rhetorical, perhaps. But believe it or not, these are questions to which I've started to hear the faintest whispers of answers over the past months. I'm not claiming anything prophetic. Many before me have come to the same conclusions-- I've read their words, heard their accounts-- but I've been too thick-headed, hard-hearted, and earth-minded to really let it sink in. Well... in my brokenness-- through experiencing real "suffering"-- I'm finally starting to get it.

In the midst of some of the darkest, deepest, gut-wrenching moments of prayer I've ever experienced, I've often heard a question being whispered... "What is it that you REALLY want? What is it that you're REALLY praying for?" It stops me in my tracks. It sends my mind spinning. And then, it brings me to my knees in silence. What was I really praying for in healing for Leslie? An end to her/our suffering? Well if that is the case... if God had healed her cancer back in July, would that have been the end to her suffering? Certainly, she would have suffered and died another way, eventually... c'est la vie. Was I asking God to preserve our family that we could go on loving TJ and bringing him up in His ways? If that is what I was praying for... hasn't He provided just that-- isn't He doing that, even now? And in miraculous fashion, at that! Was I praying for the ability to go on living in the completion and joy that I had felt throughout those wonderful 7 years of our life together? To go on tasting this beautiful little "slice of Heaven", as I've dubbed marriage? Indeed, my life has never been more full and complete than it is today. I've never seen Heaven more clearly... never tasted His blessings on a daily basis-- minute by minute, breath by breath-- as I do these days, even in her absence.

So tell me... what prayer did He not answer? What mercy has He not shown? Is Leslie not better off now? Are each of YOU not better off now, having loved-- and even "lost"-- your Leslie the way you did, as closely or as distantly as you loved her? I would argue that indeed He asnwered those prayers. Your prayers. My prayers. Our prayers. It just looks NOTHING like what we had expected it to... hoped, wanted, desired... at that time, in our human near-sightedness. He did not ignore my prayers. He answered them (is answering them) more brilliantly than I ever could have imagined... as hard as it is for me to take.

To be honest, the most desperate prayers I prayed were not for me. They were not for TJ. Not for her family, our future, or anything like that. The most dreadfully intimate prayers I prayed with Leslie were when she was unconscious, in that hospital bed, in the days and hours before she left this place. I just wanted her suffering to be over. "Have mercy, oh God!" Indeed, my prayer for "healing" took on a completely different meaning, in those hours. And indeed, I have echoed similar prayers for my own soul, as I have struggled to "move on", in the months that have followed. "God, I will stay here and suffer forever," I wailed one morning, on my knees in the shower, at perhaps my lowest point. "Somehow, this suffering makes me feel closer to her. But God... I desire to feel closer to YOU. She is free now. I am not. I am still here. If you desire more for me-- for me to live this life again-- TAKE MY SUFFERING. HEAL ME, GOD. HAVE MERCY, OH GOD!"

Indeed, in both cases (my prayers for Leslie and my prayers for myself), God indeed answered/ is answering those prayers in miraculous ways.

...but what if He didn't? What if Leslie was still suffering in that bed? What if I was still buried deep in grieving depression? It's not like I said those prayers and *POOF* our suffering was lifted and we were out in the Streets of Gold jumping for joy. Indeed, my own suffering is far from finished... far from "complete". It is in THIS place-- the place where no mercy is shown, where the prayers seem to be unheard, where suffering is unbearable, and there is no hope of an end in sight-- where FAITH lives. I'm neck-deep in a phenomenal book on this very topic entitled, The Gospel According to Job. It was Job's suffering that defined his faith. Indeed, it is the suffering of Jesus that defines our salvation. Suffering is not something to be rescued from. Suffering is something to be endured. Jesus didn't promise happiness, relief, easy living, answers to questions, or any of that stuff. He promised the cross. He promised, in fact, suffering. ("If anyone should come after me, he must pick up his cross and follow me." ...and... "Are you willing to bear my cross? To drink from the cup that I drink?") (You all DID see The Passion of the Christ, right? You're aware of what He's asking here?!) This is not the "Gospel" that evangelicals usually preach, (let alone embrace or live), in my opinion. But it IS the Gospel that Job knew. And Paul knew. And James and Peter and John and Phillip and Tabitha and Stephen and the members of "The Way" knew. Indeed, these are not truths that I've discovered on my own. They've been right there in front of me in the scriptures my whole life. I just never understood them until now.

For instance, Paul wrote:

...there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor. 12:7-9)

What was Paul really praying for when he prayed for that thorn to be removed? He was just wanting to glorify God, right? To do His work. And perhaps, to have an end to his own suffering. After all, wouldn't have his ministry been stronger, had he been relieved of this thorn? Wouldn't have he done more? Traveled further? Preached with more energy and power? Obviously, God's answer to that question is, "NO... My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness." Paul himself was beginning to grasp this, 2000 years before I am, because in the very next sentence of that letter, he writes:

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

And then in another letter, he wrote:

...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. (Rom. 5:3-5)

James, in perhaps a more famous or often-quoted passage wrote something similar:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:2-4)

What this means is that the person who does not suffer is a person who is lacking the fullness of life that God intends for us to live. Indeed, suffering is a BLESSING, to the true child of God.

You see, we need to be quiet in our prayers from time to time. We need to just meditate and search our hearts and ask ourselves, "Just what is it that I'm asking for?" As Christians, if we're living by faith, the answer to the question will always be some version of this following statement... this "mission statement", if you will:

It is my heart's desire to know my God. To LOVE Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. To ABIDE in His presence, in the shelter of His almighty arms. To KNOW His wisdom and Truth. Indeed, I can never know, in this life, the fullness of His glory; the full extent of His grace; the greatness of His wisdom; the depth of His holiness; the perfection of His love. But indeed, I will live my life-- I will even die-- trying to know these things. In the meantime, my hope is not for physical healing or relief from this suffering. My hope is not for even temporal blessings or bliss. Surely, I will ask for the desires of my heart, and I will give thanks for my relief, my rest, my blessings, my happiness, should these things befall me. But no... These are not the things I truly hope for. My HOPE is for HEAVEN.

So I will go on praying-- pouring out my heart to him as Job did. Asking God for what it is I want from Him... showing Him my heart's desires, and asking that He provide. But I will not confuse these desires for my hope. Just as God does not rely upon my prayers to go on being God, neither do I rely upon God's apparent answers to my prayers to go on abiding in faith in Him. But regardless of how He answers, this I have learned to be true: Without prayer, I will not know Him. THIS is why I pray.

The 800 lb. Gorilla and the Pretty Barista

2008-11-21T11:51:00.008-06:00

This morning, I was in a heavier-hearted, contemplative mood. It's Friday, and a bright, crisp, sunny one, at that-- it was 18 degrees with not a cloud in the sky as I took out the trash this morning. TJ asked me why it was so cold, and I told him that it's because it's winter now, and pointed out that all the trees had lost all of their leaves. He beamed with delight as he inspected the trees and felt the cold creep in as he stood in the shelter of the garage while I did trash duty. He's really taking in the changing of the seasons this year, and as much as he was awe-stricken with the beautiful colors of autumn, he's REALLY pumped up about winter. Snow and Christmas are 2 of his favorite things.

This little exchange, the beautiful sunrise, and the fact that it's Friday should have been enough to free my heart a little, on any other such occasion. But as I said, it wasn't so today. First off, I'm sick, now. Sinus infection or something-- perhaps the bug that TJ had last week, minus the fever. But as I said, my mind was awhirl and my heart just felt... heavy. The prayers just didn't jump out of my chest the way they typically do, during my morning shower. My mind wasn't as clear. Maybe it was the sinus infection... or maybe we all just have mornings like that, from time to time. Leslie had those mornings every day-- she was admittedly NOT a morning person. :)

After taking out the trash, I packed TJ (sleepy-eyed and paci-faced, donning his warm and wooly blue footed pajamas under his winter coat) into the car seat, threw a change of clothes for him in the passenger seat, and took off for Dana's house, where he was to play today. I stopped, of course, at Caribou, where I'm something of a regular. (It's kind of like Bolingbrook's own little "Central Perk" scene, for those Friends fans out there.) After spending 5-10 minutes making my rounds through the crowded little cafe', saying hello to the people I've come to know there, (including the pretty barista behind the counter), and chatting with Pastor Ronn who was there preparing his sermon for Sunday, I ordered our favorites: a large depth charge for me (that's a regular coffee with 2 shots of espresso added to it) (I don't mess around when it comes to my morning caffeine), and a blueberry muffin for TJ. Only... they were out of the blueberry muffins today. This made TJ quite sad, and his cute and cuddly cheeriness which previously had everyone in the place going "ga-ga" over him began to fade into the whiney "grumps". I was just thinking to myself, "I should've just got in, got out, and got back on the road. Cut with the socializing and just get him to Dana's. Now I'm losing him, and he's going to make a scene." I hastily ordered a piece of coffee cake for him instead-- they had free samples out at the register, and I had given one to TJ, and he said he liked it-- assuming that coffee cake was better than nothing. But apparently, that turned out to be a bad idea, because as the barista handed me TJ's coffee cake, he plunged further into his grumpiness-- now heading full-bore toward a melt-down. Pretty Barista, in a compassionate effort to help a needy customer, said that they had just received some more blueberry muffins, but that they were still in the freezer, and then offered to have one heated up. At that point, I knew that there was no changing the momentum of TJ's mood, and it was just a matter of time until we reached melt-down status, so I just politely declined, then thanked her, grabbed our treats, and bolted for the exit. Indeed, we reached melt-down status just as we were pushing out the glass door of Caribou, back into the cold parking lot. As I was trying to console him, reason with him, scold him, encourage him, and throw every trick in the book at him in order to get him buckled back into his seat so I could resume the prolonged Friday morning commute, I was just overwhelmed with second-guessing and self-doubt. This was the scenario that my heavy heart had been anticipating since I rolled out of bed before sunrise. "What am I DOING to this boy? This is just so hard on him. This is not fair to him. He needs a mommy. I need a partner. I can't do this alone. He should be able to be at home in his PJ's with a sippy cup right now. He should be waking up in the same bed every morning, and sleeping in that same bed every nap time. He needs to be able to hold the same neck and cuddle with the same arms-- the same smells, the same voice soothing him." (... and so-on.)

The struggle in my heart and head morphed into prayer, wherein I once again gave it all up to our Father... placing even TJ (the HARDEST thing for me to "give up to Him") back safely in the palm of His hands. "I know you can't do it yourself," I heard that familiar whisper on my soul. "But I can. In your weakness, I am made strong. I am not only providing for you, but I am providing for your boy, as well." (... and so-on.)

I'm doing much better with it now. TJ's having a great day at Dana's with his cousins. I'm abiding, once again contented with His manna. And all that stuff. Please don't feel the need to write me an encouraging response about how great I'm doing or whatever. I need to just be able to "deal" with my insecurity and weakness honestly, without feeling like I'm fishing for complements or a hearty slap on the back.

As this post's title foreshadows, all of this morning's adventures got me thinking quite a bit about a certain 800 lb. gorilla that's been in this room-- this "next chapter" of my life. I've been ashamed to come out and think about it out loud until just recently, but the more I bounce ideas off friends and family, the more I realize it's on everyone else's mind, as well-- and in fact, has been for quite some time. The 800 lb. gorilla is this: What about our future? What about a new "mommy" figure for TJ? What about a wife for me? Okay, so I might be getting ahead of myself, but I'm to the point in this "process" where I can admit that the thought crosses my mind... in fact, almost daily. If that's too bitter of a pill to swallow, I can soften it a bit and put the question out there in this way: "What does that 'dating' process look like, for a person in my situation?"

Now, if you're a newcomer to this blog, I encourage you to read through the last few months to see just how I loved my Leslie-- how she will NEVER be "replaced", how she will always be "my better half", how no woman will ever be Mommy for TJ the way she is, and how our family and I are coming to dwell in peace on the thought of her eternal healing and completion-- as our friends Anna and Leah sang at her memorial services, on Leslie's behalf, "I'm in better hands, now". So I proceed on this topic with caution, knowing that there are family and friends who visit this blog to check in, who also loved and miss Leslie deeply. I guess I submit myself to your mercy and compassionate understanding, hoping that you are easily reminded of what you know of me, how you knew our marriage, and how we loved each other. This topic does not negate any of that. It is what it is-- all part of "living without her". (In case you're wondering, I've already had these conversations with her immediate family, so it's not like I'm dropping a bomb on family dynamics here.) :)

I thought for a minute about being devious and falsely announcing to the world that Pretty Barista and I have a date on Saturday night. But that's just not the case. I am, in fact, not yet at a place in my life where I could commit the time, effort, and concentration that would be required of me in order to pursue a "dating" relationship. My saying this should be of no surprise to anyone-- and perhaps even a relief to most of you. (Certainly Pretty Barista would be most relieved to know this... I'm rather sure she doesn't read this blog, though. Crap... I hope she doesn't... Maybe I'd better think twice before posting this...) You'll note that I mention the pursuit of a "'dating' relationship", here, and not this notion of entering the "dating scene". Which brings me to my first point on the topic:

I've long since kissed [casual] dating goodbye.

This is just a clever little play on a book title that hit the Christian singles market in the 90's-- one that, to this day, makes me cringe. But regardless of my opinion of the book, the stark reality is that before Leslie and I started hanging out, in that glorious Fall of 2000, I had come to a point in my life where I'd basically had enough with "dating" in general. Casual dating brought out the worst in me, it seemed. It distracted me from my priorities, from my pursuit of God, from living as I wanted to live. In fact, I had declared an indefinite hiatus from the dating scene, just a couple months before Leslie and I started hanging out. (It was never my intent to "date" her-- in fact, I was certain, going into that proverbial first chat over coffee, that she and I would never ever "work", in that dating sense, due to how we DIDN'T get along in college.) (Another story, another time, perhaps.) Anyway, I dated quite a few girls-- a couple quite seriously-- back in the day... high school, college, after college. All were rather "intentional", as far as casual dating goes-- I never dated a girl who wasn't a Christian, or someone I couldn't at least consider being with indefinitely. But the truth be told, I just knew so LITTLE about these women, at that point of our first dates. And it takes so much time and effort to get to know someone, especially when your truest exposure to their personality is in the "dating" realm-- I mean, let's just face it... no matter how "casual" it is, that's a pretty intense situation, on a lot of levels.

All this rambling to make this point: I have learned through my life experience (especially the last year of it) that I am not-- nor will I ever be-- interested in "casually dating" anybody. When I am ready to date, don't be expecting me to just ride a wave of adrenaline-laced confidence and ask the Pretty Barista out for a Saturday night. Sure, she's a very sweet and attractive young lady... but that's basically all I know of her. Well, that, and the fact that she serves a mean depth charge. And while a pretty face and access to an endless supply of caffeine might be a good start-- a VERY good start, even-- I'm going to have to have more to go on that that. My time with TJ and our life and our home and my "ministry" are just too valuable to go whittling away time, just to "get to know someone", or to look at a pretty face for an evening. Sure, "dating" can be fun-- it can be a wonderful way to stroke the egos a little, have some good laughs, feel somewhat desired and cared for. But is "a little fun" worth my time away from these other things? Is it worth spending more time away from TJ?? (Those are rhetorical questions. We all know the answer.)

And on that topic, that brings me to my next very crucial point:

When I start dating, I'm not just looking for a friend. I'm not merely looking for a wife. I'm looking for a mother for TJ.

Well, if any eligible candidates weren't scared away before, they certainly are now! :) (By the way-- as an aside... I DO NOT welcome any gestures or covert suggestions at set-ups, blind dates, phone numbers, etc... at this juncture. Just thought I'd preemptively strike, on that one. When it is time, in God's eyes, I feel the right opportunity will be right under my nose.)

But seriously, to this crucial point... A big part of the "dating" process will be seeing TJ and this new woman interact. One important facet of this will be my and TJ's time alone, away from this new woman, just talking about her, getting to know his thoughts and feelings on the whole idea. He is my #1 thing. My prioirty. My life. He is the one person with "veto power", as far as I'm concerned. My own little 3-year-old president elect-- unknowingly preparing to set up in his new digs in our metaphoric Oval Office.

CONCLUSION/ WRAP-UP: (for now...)

Our life is not ready for me to date. But to be honest, my heart and mind are much closer to ready than I'd ever imagined they could be. I'm by no means in a hurry, but I look forward to the prospect of dating with a mixed bag of emotions: excitement and apprehension; patience and anticipation; a burden of protection for TJ's heart and my own heart's desire to again be known; clinging to Leslie and intrigue with this person God might be praparing for us. These things I turn over to God daily. And I know that He will provide, and I pray His timing, wisdom, will, and blessing will be known. But when that time comes for me to pursue somebody... it won't be just somebody. I'm not wasting my time on just somebody. She will need to be a person I know well enough that I am able to see her potentially being TJ's mommy. I will need to know going in to our "first date" that I could potentially love her as my wife. And she would have to be willing to love all the "Leslie parts" of me-- my "better half"-- just like she would love the rest of me. Gee... as I'm re-reading these "criteria", I'm realizing what a tall order this is for a person. God bless her! It will indeed take a miraculous act of God for such an opportunity to present itself... but if or when God presents it, I will be ready. And when that opportunity presents itself-- much like I was with Leslie, once I became aware of my feelings for her, (later in that year of 2000)-- I will be intentional yet unassuming. And it will be Christ-centered. And there will be nothing casual about it.

Updates

2008-11-17T07:31:00.003-06:00

Whew... Another week is upon us. It's hard to believe there are only 10 days until Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to the holidays, although I'm fully aware of the emotional challenges that faces our family. But I feel strong, and ready to "enjoy" the experience. It will indeed be bittersweet. TJ just lights up whenever he sees a snowflake fall (it's been COLD here!), and he's ready to build snowmen and go to Mimi's Condo for Christmas. (We're going to be in Florida for Christmas. The "change of venue" should take some of the edge off that week-- it would have been remarkably difficult to spend it at home alone with TJ and without Leslie. So my parents invited us to hang out with them on the beach. Gee... it was a TOUGH decision, let me tell you!) :)

So I wanted to give a couple of updates... A lot has happened in the past week.

I mentioned I was traveling all week last week out on the East Coast. It was a great trip, work-wise, and actually served as a bit of a vacation of sorts-- as horribly as I feel having to admit it-- from the "single fatherhood" thing. TJ had been so needy lately, and I was really getting worn out. The work trip came at the perfect time. And it worked out well, because it was kind of a group thing, and we flew out of our plant in Ohio, which is in the same town where I grew up, where my parents still live. So it worked out perfectly, just dropping TJ off at Mimi and Papa's for the week. He was so excited. He loves staying there, and adores his Ohio cousins, whom he usually gets to see for a couple days when he's there.

There was a minor set-back, though... I felt rather guilty, arriving on Sunday evening to drop off a crippled 3-year-old. Earlier that morning, while I was setting up the sound equipment for church, TJ was at his friend Ryan's house, where he usually spends his Sunday morning pre-church hours, while I do the set-up routine. Well, while he and Ryan were playing up in the bedroom, they decided in their 3- and 4-year-old wisdom that it would be a good idea to jump off the bed onto the bean-bag chair on the floor. TJ missed the bean-bag chair, (he will be quick to proudly point out that he actually jumped OVER the bean-bag chair), and seriously injured his foot. I didn't learn about the incident until after church, as we were tearing down, getting ready to head to Ohio. TJ was unable to walk on it. Unable to even crawl on all fours, really, because it hurt his right foot so badly. So he was just kind of scooting around on his bottom, propelling himself with his arms and digging in his heals for traction. He wasn't complaining-- just scooting around, like he'd been doing it that way forever. So, Mimi had to take him in for X-rays on Monday, after I left for my trip. I'm ashamed to say, TJ knows Mimi's doctor quite well-- this was his 4th trip to Dr. Yoder at the Archbold Hospital. Stitches once, 2 trips for flu-related dehydration, and now this foot injury. He's been to Dr. Yoder more than he's been to our own doctor in Naperville. Feel free to pick on my mom about this, those of you who know her. :)

Anyway, the X-rays came back negative, but were kind of inconclusive, because of the softness of the bone tissue in a 3-year-old's feet and ankles. They gave us the recommendation to keep him on ibuprofen around the clock, and if he wasn't walking on it in a week, to take him to a specialist. He scooted around on his rear-end for the next 6.5 days. On day seven, he began to walk, and now, he's almost back to normal, except for the fact that his foot looks like he's wearing a black and blue sock.

Oh, and except for the fact that he now has the flu, or something, as well. Not wanting Dr. Millar's office in Naperville to feel left out, TJ came down with a fever of 103 as soon as I got him home on Saturday. So, since I had some X-rays to run by the doc anyway (I picked up the films in Archbold before leaving to come back home), I decided I could have the fever checked out. They prescribed some anti-biotics, just in case it's a sinus infection or something-- he had a sore throat and his frontal sinuses were a little sensitive... which is a symptom I try not to let freak me out, I confess. Yesterday, he was improving to the point he was playing and eating little more. (Between his foot and his fever, he was pretty inactive on Saturday.) So either the antibiotic is working or he's just kicking a flu bug. He was pretty miserable, and having some crazy fever dreams, to boot. He's still convinced that one of them was real-- "The Drink Bear", as TJ named him, came into his room and asked him if he could steal his drink, which was sitting on his bed-head. TJ yelled "NO! You leave!" (he really did yell it, I heard him), and, according to TJ's report, the Drink Bear proceeded to leave, get into his car and drive away. "No, he IS real!" TJ argues with me, every time I try to explain that it was just a dream, and there really is no Drink Bear. Miss Liz came over to babysit on Saturday night, and she and TJ made a sign before bed-time to hang on the front door: "NO BEARS ALLOWED!"

The sign has worked, apparently, because the Drink Bear has not returned. He's an obediant beast, at least, that Drink Bear.

I'm trying to roll with all of this, but now I'm feeling suddenly "worn out" again. Thankfully, Leslie's brother's wife, Margaret, came up from Indy with her two little ones this week to help out and play with TJ. I'd like to sit and argue that I don't NEED the help, but I'm glad to have it, regardless... and to be honest, I'm not sure my argument would be too convincing. I'm trying not to start second-guessing myself, with his injuries, sickness, and general neediness lately. "Just a bad couple of weeks," or something. Funny... my mind goes to that crucial scene of Good Will Hunting where Robin Williams' character is repeating those words to Will until they finally sink in and drive our protagonist to tears... "It's not your fault... It's not your fault..."

Oh! Some GOOD NEWS!! Mr. Stuart Strahl called me on Friday, as I was landing in Detroit, ready to embark on my return drive home to Chicago. Mr. Strahl is the Director of the Chicago Zoological Society. (The Brookfield Zoo.) The freaking DIRECTOR. Not the director of membership, or "Ms. Director", as I referred to her in my previous "Zoo Frustration" post. No, Mr. Strahl is Ms. Director's boss's boss. The Head Honcho. The Big Cheese. I had to ask for clarification... "I'm sorry, did you say you're the DIRECTOR of the ZOO? Not membership services, but the entire ZOO?" He seemed flattered at my awe, and kind of laughed and humbly answered, "...yes... the 'entire zoo'."

Mr. Strahl's tone was genuinely apologetic, as he assertively started to lay out his action plan to "make things right". "I'm trying to instill a sense that customer service is the #1 priority in this organization. Unfortunately, the ladies downstairs were abiding by the letter of the law a little too rigidly. Yours is a unique case, and we want to do everything we can to make sure you and your son have the same access to the zoo that you always have..." I was SO grateful, and humbled, even.

On Saturday, the mail man delivered a giant package from the Brookfield Zoo, with a thoughtful letter from the VP of Membership Services ("Ms. Director's" boss), and a nice little "care package": A membership card with TJ's name on it; 4 "caregiver passes" for Ms. Liz, Mommy Beth (Ryan's mommy, who watches TJ a lot), Gram, and Aunt Dana-- the 4 most likely to be taking TJ to the zoo; (I'm realizing I should have had one made out for my mom, as well, for when she comes to visit... but that's okay, because the letter also states that whenever I feel like it, I can call the member services department and have additional caregiver passes made out for whomever I please-- as many as I please); also, there were free passes to several of the attractions; free parking passes; and a stack of guest passes, should somebody besides one of the listed "caregivers" want to take TJ to the zoo one day. We're talking "above and beyond"! Fixed, and then some. Mr. Strahl assured me that as long as we were members, I could just call his office, and he would see to it that accommodations would be made for us, whenever we needed it.

Wow. Praise God for good people in positions of authority, amen?!

SO... now I have a request... I'm guessing a few of you sent letters. Mr. Strahl had the slightest undertone of "bravery in the face of terror" in his voice, as if there was a mass of rage awaiting him on the other end of the line. I get the idea he received more than just a forwarded version of my letter to Ms. Director's boss. So here's what I'd ask, now, to those of you who may have been compelled to write on my behalf: Write a thank-you note to Mr. Strahl.

As my mom and dad aptly point out (they asked for the proper address and contact info so that they could send a thank-you note), businesses and organizations get a whole lot of complaint letters, and not a lot of thanks or validation when they take the proper corrective action. It's like only spanking your kid when he's bad, and failing to reward him when he's good. So again, if you sent a letter, I'd ask you, send another-- this time in thanks and as a symbol of gratitude and appreciation for their willingness to accommodate and "do the right thing".

Anyway... There are plenty of other little stories I could share about the week... but that's the "big stuff". Just wanted to give an update. What a week! In the words of the Foo Fighters: "One and done, and I'm on to the next one..."

...oops, almost forgot. Here's that contact info for the zoo. :)

Mr. Stuart Strahl- President and CEO
Mr. Chris Panek- VP Membership
Chicago Zoological Society
Brookfield Zoo
3300 Golf Road
Brookfield, IL 60513

...To Be Poured Out

2008-11-13T10:24:00.003-06:00

I realize that I referenced this idea of "being poured out" a couple of months ago, in a rather sad post. Wow, those were some rough days. Every day I praise God for His provision and continued healing... indeed, He is electing to "fill me back up", rather than leave me empty. It will never be like it was... but it is sweeter by the day. Glenn Phillips (my oft-quoted favorite musical artist) writes a song called "Blind Sighted", where he is apparently (to me at least), singing to a lost loved one...

"I remember back when we were younger,
You filled me up like water.
It's different now.
It's stronger.
And I can't see you now, but I still know you're here.
I can reach out,
and feel you near.
Blind-sighted."

Indeed, Leslie filled me up like water. She was a torential downpour of blessings, from God, which He used to "complete me" (thank you, Jerry McGuire for ruining that line for everybody who actually knows something about being completed by another, by the hand of God). (No, I'm not bitter about it... but c'mon, that was a pretty cheesey movie. A wasted line.)

To be filled up... in order to later be poured out...

I believe I mentioned this in the old Leslie's Journey blog long ago, but it is worth repeating here, because it's been so instrumental in my own journey, in this next "chapter". My friend and mentor from when we lived in Indianapolis once had an encouraging "word" for me. Call it prophetic... call it a "vision"... whatever it was, it was indeed from God. It encouraged me in the moment probably 5 years ago, now, and it has proven true time and again, bringing me new layers of encouragement along the way. It went-- or should I say, it GOES-- like this:

A group of men used to get together at my friend Beau's house once a week to pray. We were a multi-generational group of about 6-12 men, depending on the week, from different churches in the area. We'd get into the bible a little, and Beau or one of the older men would "teach" from time-to-time, but the main focus was just accountability and prayer. And it was POWERFUL. Men, get yourselves surrounded by other men who are not afraid to lay hands on you and pour out their soul in prayer for you... and who aren't afraid to hold you accountable, or be vulnerable to accountability themselves. There is nothing like it.

Anyway, it was one of these nights when I just shared something that had been eating away at my heart... The thing was... Life was good. Too good, I feared. I had a good job-- one that came too easy to me, at that time... I was almost bored with it, but happy with the "financial blessings" that came along with it. I had a beautiful wife. We were "DINKS", (dual-income, no-kids), living it up in the suburbs, hanging out with friends and going on dates several nights a week. We were involved in our church's children's ministry, and felt like we were being "fed" well through the teaching and worship at the church... It was just all... so... EASY. "Surely, God", I was praying, "You have something more for me. I've always sensed You speaking and working in my heart... certainly this isn't ALL You have in store for us, is it?" As I shared with the men in the group that night, I was starting to worry that I wasn't listening, or afraid to be led by God somewhere other than the comfortable place in which I was currently abiding. I prayed and searched my heart and mind... I felt as though He had led me to that particular place, and I was "in His will"... but just felt that He had more in store for me... and I was eager to GET THERE already.

The men in the group began to pray for me. Most of them just prayed wonderful words of thanksgiving to God for who He made me to be... loved on me and encouraged me with their prayers. And then there was some silence, and then Beau half-prayed, half-spoke to me...

"Tyson, I have this image in my head... call it what you will. Time will tell if this is 'prophetic', or a 'word from the Lord'-- and maybe only you and God will ever know. But I just feel like I need to explain this image to you.

I see a reservoir. Something like Geist (those of you from Indy know what he's talking about). There is this little river running through a shallow valley that has been dammed up by God. The little river is fed with these little tributaries, ditches, streams, and of course, by the rain. And every drop of water-- every molecule-- from each of those sources, is a blessing from God. And God is letting that water-- His blessings-- fill up this reservoir. The water will rise. The once barren land will be lush with the fruit of His blessings-- indeed, just like Geist which was once just swamp and forests, and is now some of the most prized real estate in all the state. But you should know, Tyson... that the reservoir will not just sit and collect water forever. It will be poured out. Perhaps it will just rise up over the threshold of the dam, and trickle over the top. Or perhaps, the dam will break and it will flood into the valley below, downstream. But it WILL be poured out. Abide now, and collect His blessings, and accept them for what they were. You will be poured out in His time."

Wow, huh? In the months or maybe year-plus that ensued, God began to get very "direct" in His guidance-- very real and powerful answers to prayers and questions about where we should live, what we should do, where we should serve, when we should have kids, etc... Some of the stories would give you goose-bumps, they're so cool. Anyway, we were "led" to Bolingbrook, where we "settled in" for a couple of years, growing into our church family, starting our own nuclear family, getting my work established here, etc... And then, we moved to our new house. And then, a month later... The dam broke.

It is good to be poured out. What got me thinking about it was the thought of a conversation I had just last night with another stranger, whom God had obviosly had been placed there in my path-- at a particular place in that dry valley downstream-- so that I might be poured out. Conversation started with business-- we were both obviously out-of-towners, eating alone at a bar (I'm in New Jersey this week, by the way), making small-talk. And then the conversation migrated onto the topic of family... and from there... Well, you can imagine. This particular man is Roman Catholic and is dealing with the fallout of having just survived a messy divorce-- his wife basically had a mid-life crisis of sorts and decided she didn't want to be a wife or mom anymore, choosing instead the allures of the single "night-life", if you catch my drift... My heart just broke for him, as I related with him that in my opinion, what he's going through is so much harder than what I've endured. "I'm blessed with the fact that my wife died loving me. I don't know what I'd do with myself if she had CHOSEN to stop being my wife... If she had known me as she knew me and decided after all of that to just turn around and walk away." This resonated with him, and he was fighting back tears, just reaching for my hand, as if to "shake", and then just holding on with both of his, looking me in the eyes... it was just so good for him to be able to "relate" with another man like that. I encouraged him with scripture and a little discussion about God's grace and compassion.

Anyway... it's just another little story... These things happen several times a week, lately... It's just good to be poured out. I've never felt so alive.

Zoo Frustration

2008-11-06T08:02:00.004-06:00

Life isn't fair. No one said it would be. God doesn't promise fair... in fact quite the contrary. But He does promise his presence.

So, God is present with me now... and He even present at the Brookfield Zoo, in spite of my current frustration.

I've blogged before about our trips to the zoo. I took TJ there the day after Leslie died. He learned of Mommy's departure for Heaven sitting under a little tiki-style umbrella over a hot-dog-on-a-stick and a fruit punch, right beside "Stingray Bay", one of his favorite exhibits. Leslie used to take him there several times a month. We paid a pretty penny for a "Family Plus" membership-- unlimited parking and admission for the 3 of us, and we could even bring along a guest on each visit... discounts on food, dolphin show passes. It was awesome.

It WAS awesome.

As much as TJ got to go, most of his visits were during the weekdays in the warm-weather months. He and Leslie typically needed to get out of the house to do something, just for their shared sanity. They'd wake up, see a sunny and mild day outside, and decide spontaneously to head to the zoo. (Of course, this past summer, such visits were not as frequent, as Leslie would need help-- someone to drive them, etc...) But it was nice, because it's only a half-hour drive, if that, and they could get there, have fun, eat lunch, and then be home in time for TJ's nap. A few times over the course of each of the last 3 summers, we'd plan a Saturday visit, where we could all go together. Anyway, it was well worth the money we spent on the membership-- so many special memories there... memories of Mommy that fill TJ's mind.

So this year, when our membership came up for renewal, I placed a call and informed them of our "situation". I said I was calling to renew, but was curious how we make out the 2nd membership card-- the one that was formerly Leslie's. (Membership card and photo ID are required both at the parking lot gate and the admissions gate.) Apparently, we could pay a little extra and have them issue a "Caregiver" card... but the problem was that we had to declare ONE specific caregiver... And I have NO idea what TJ's child-care situation is going to look like 2 months from now, let alone ALL of next year. I asked if they couldn't just issue the 2nd card to TJ, and use his birth certificate as his ID at the gate, and then admit his caregiver that day as his "guest". No-can-do. Members must be 18 or older.

You can see where this is going...

I wrote a letter to the director of member affairs at the Chicago Zoological Society. I boiled our story into a one page summary-- how special the zoo is to our family, the tragedy of the last year, my desire to maintain the membership and TJ's opportunities to visit the zoo regularly. Yesterday, Ms. Director called me back. It was all I could do to maintain my "professional courtesy". And tragically, I fear that I failed at maintaining the level of "lovingkindness" God desires me to administer in such situations.

No grace. No consideration. No alternatives. No exceptions. She merely offered her "heart-felt" condolences and then proceeded to say, "If we make one exception to one member, then we need to make every exception to every member..." yada-yada... I asked her, "Is it such a bad thing to make exceptions for ALL little kids with dead mommies??" Like I said, I confess that the "Society's" lack of grace was exposing the limitations of my own, in this situation.

We talked in circles, my stating the inequity of the situation and offering alternatives (which I mentioned above), her stating that the rules are the rules and no exceptions would be offered. Finally, before saying anything I'd truly regret, I just concluded the phone call:

"Well. I guess I can thank you for your time, in reading my letter, offering your condolences, and stuff. But basically, what you're saying is that you are not willing to make any accommodations. And what that means to me, is that a 3-year-old boy will not have the same access to the zoo next year that he has enjoyed each of the last 3 summers, simply due to the fact that his mommy died. I'm not one to pout about someting 'not being fair', but there is just something horribly unjust about this. I guess this is a part of being a single dad that I'm just going to have to get used to-- that this concept of 'family plans' and 'family passes' just doesn't apply to me anymore. Again, thank you for your time, and I'm sorry my 'business' and TJ's story is not worthy of your offering any accommodations. Goodbye."

I know I'm not alone in this type of battle. I've heard from so many single moms and dads out there, who certainly brush into this type of thing on a regular basis. I'm frustrated with my lack of awareness and/or compassion in these regards through the first 31 years of my life, before I had the "opportunity" to experience them first-hand.

So anyway... I guess we'll just have to find a new "special place" that TJ and his caregiver can enjoy on a regular basis next year. Sure, he and I will still make the occasional Saturday trip to the zoo... (his love for the place outweighs my "self-righteous indignation" which suggests I boycott)... We'll just end up paying more per visit. When I think about it, it's not really about the zoo--we'll still be able to enjoy it together... TJ just won't be able to go as often as he has in the past. It's really more about the apparent injustice of such a "kid-focused" and "family-friendly" organization being completely unwilling to make a compassionate decision or compromise.

Oh well. As I said to Ms. Director... it's their prerogative. It's their business. Their decision. Just like it's mine to stop my membership. Unfortunately, that's all the noise I can make in my frustration, and it's just such a small, tiny noise, in the grand scheme of things... Well... there's that noise, and the one I can make on this blog-- thanks for letting me vent. I just needed to feel some compassion, I guess.

Everyone needs compassion,
A love that's never failing.
Let mercy fall on me.

Everyone needs forgiviness,
The kindness of a savior,
The hope of nations...

A Full Weekend

2008-11-03T07:25:00.009-06:00

I know it's been over a week since I've posted. It's not that there hasn't been anything to share... it's just that I feel like I've already shared it. My life seems to be a series of recurring revelations and themes, lately: the grace of God; learning to live as a "single dad"; learning to live without Leslie (I think this is what they call "grieving"); abiding, enjoying the "manna" which God continues to provide daily; struggling with feelings of inadequacy-- or fully grasping my limitations-- as a parent, and again giving even my son-- my pride and joy-- over the care and provision of our Loving Father; experiencing this miraculous joy, strength, and peace, and these newly or re-awakened passions; and so-on... All these things I've "already learned or experienced", and blogged about over the months. All these things I learn anew each week. It's like when you're really into the bible... When I first got into "The Word", it was the book of Matthew. I'd read a chapter a night, and when I finished the book, I'd just start over. It almost got to the point that I could basically recite it-- like a movie you've seen too many times. But still somehow every time I read those stories and that teaching of Jesus, it seemed so fresh and new. It still does to this day. Something new jumps out at me every time I read those words-- the Spirit speaks to me through the words in a new way, completely relevant to my current circumstances. Anyway... that's the way my life has been lately... "Abide. Lean on my grace. What do you need that I haven't already provided? What is your weakness that my strength will not cover over? What is your sin that my blood has not already covered? In me, you are complete. In your weakness, I AM made strong." Again, all things I've written about in these past months. And still, every day I hear Him speak these words all over again-- "new every morning".

Now, that being said, my weekend is something which is worthy of "updating" you. It was "bittersweet", (again, to rehash a recurring theme). Sad, beautiful, joyful, peaceful, eventful, restful, full of love... Simply "full". I was just sharing with a friend that I have learned to "embrace, even enjoy" things like quiet, alone-ness, even sadness. A bunch of happy feelings and laughter and fun stories are no longer prerequisites for a day to be considered a "good day". A "good day" now is simply a "full day". A "good weekend", a "full weekend". And indeed, it was a good weekend.

It started with some good TJ & Daddy time on Friday. I "worked from home", (a concept that is becoming more laughable every time the situation requires me to give it another shot),on Friday morning, because TJ & I had appointments to see our family physician. I was going to get a flu shot (and was hoping to get TJ to agree to one as well), and TJ was due for his 3-year-old "check-up". (I wanted to be present for this, which is why I stayed home that day, because I just needed assurance from a medical professional that I wasn't failing in my primary job to care and provide for my son's general well-being and health... These things were never a concern before. But without Leslie around, I find my confidence on such basic matters is shaken from time-to-time.)

Anyway, TJ was quite needy on Friday morning. Another "high-maintenance" day, it seemed. This bothered me quite a bit, because after our struggles the previous weekend, he had a wonderful week with Ms. Liz and Aunt Dana. And our evenings together were just fine. But here I was, spending a full day with him again, and he was unraveling-- on the brink of another melt-down. I was beginning to think it had more to do with "me" than the fact he's "just a 3-year-old". At about 9am, I gave up any hope of actually being able to get ANY work done. I put down the laptop, stowed the Blackberry, and just sat on the sofa and read some books to him. Turns out the little guy just needed my undivided attention for awhile. We read and cuddled and then put together the newest addition to his Playmobil Airport set. After that, he was fine. He was able to play alone again, entertaining himself. He was back to being the happy, busy, and chirpy little TJ we all know and love.

Around mid-day, we went to our doctor's appointment. I'd previously started to ease him into the idea of getting a shot. I assured him that I had to have one, too, and explained to him "why". "But I'm not SICK!" he tried reasoning with me. I explained that the shots were to keep us from getting sick. He seemed to be okay with the explanation, and I told him that I'd go first, just to show him how to be "brave", and how it doesn't really hurt, and it's over very, very quickly. Before the shots, he had his check-up. He kept eyeing me nervously as they took off his shirt, examined him with the stethescope and what-not, and measured and weighed him. Throughout the exam, he kept telling me, "No, I want YOU to go first! I don't want my shot yet!" He thought they were going to sneak in a needle without giving him the chance to properly prepair himself. His height and weight, much to my pride (or relief), both measured around the 70th percentile. Everything else was normal and healthy-- except for a heart murmur that we already knew was there (the pediatric cardiologist is not concerned-- we'll visit him again when TJ turns 5). Then... it was time for the shots. I sat myself up on the exam table-bed-thing, and pulled my arm out of my shirt. I just watched TJ and smiled as I explained what the nurse was doing... "She's just cleaning off my arm with a cotton ball...." "...She's getting the syringe ready..." ("Syringe" is a word that should not be in a 3-year-old's vocabulary... but it is in TJ's, for obvious reasons...) (Mommy's old IV saline "flush" syringes are his favorite bath toys.) Then, it came time for my injection. I just looked at him and smiled, and said, "See? It doesn't really hurt! It's not that bad! And now, look! It's ALL DONE!" But what I was really thinking in my mind is, "HOLY CRAP! I forgot these things hurt this much! I'm such a horrible father, lying to my son like this!!!" But I'm apparently a good liar, because when it was his turn, he bravely plopped himself back up onto the table and let the nurse do her evil deed to him. He was VERY brave. He started crying a bit after the first shot was done, (oh yeah-- I forgot to mention they were also recommending a roto-virus vaccine for him this year), and I basically had to hold him while the nurse very quickly and deftly administered the second. And as soon as it was over, I held him, and said, "It's all done! I'm so proud of you, Buddy! You are SO BRAVE!!" He stopped crying and asked if he could have his chocolate treat now, which I had promised him as a reward for such bravery.

Then we went to lunch at our favorite restaurant near the doctor's office. He had a blast, because it was Halloween day, and all the servers were dressed up in costumes. He was particularly enthralled with the guy that was sporting a full-body, Disney World-esque, likeness of that starfish guy from Sponge Bob Square Pants. I kept having to "shush" TJ, because whenever he'd see the guy from across the dining room, he'd yell, "HELLO, GUY FROM SPONGE BOB!" and wave. Apparently, he couldn't remember the starfish's name either. However, he DID remember our server's name from the last time we were there, almost a month ago. We had been there with my parents, and our waitress that night was a cute and friendly girl who kept on teasing TJ, trying to get him to give her "five" and what-not. He was playing hard-to-get, or "shy", or whatever, which just made her adore him all the more. (He does a really cute and convincing "shy" act.) Anyway, as we were seated for lunch, I scanned the room and told him I didn't see his friend from the last time we were there. I was having a hard time trying to remember her name. "What was her name...?" I mumbled to myself, in an effort to jar the memory of our last visit free in his own mind. He was a step ahead of me. "You mean Marrie?" he asked rhetorically. The kid is some kind of freaky, with that memory of his. He does names and faces and details WAY better than I do. The other day, he was talking about a baby with whose name I was unfamiliar. (I won't say the baby's name, should I indict myself and my embarrassing forgetfulness, should this particular family check in on this blog from time-to-time.) He proceeded to explain to me who the baby's parents are, and where we know them from. In this case, it was a family from church, whose baby's name I certainly should have remembered, but didn't. (To my own defense, there are a LOT of babies at church these days.) I was both embarrassed at my absent-mindedness, and impressed with his little mind. More impressed than embarrassed, though. ("... more sweet than bitter...")

From the restaurant, we headed to Gram's and Gramps' house (Leslie's parents, about a 2-hour drive southwest) to meet the entire family for our Fall Birthday bash. This group birthday party is an annual celebration/ get-together, and this particular one was to be our first without Leslie. I was so proud of myself for remembering to buy the gifts... and subsequently so frustrated with myself when I arrived at their house empty-handed. I'd left the gifts at home-- unwrapped, in a shopping bag, on top of the fridge. Gifts and birthdays and things like that were Leslie's domain. (I apologize in advance to all the family, friends, and friends' children who have yet to experience my "learning curve" in this regard, come the holidays, birthdays, etc...-- this will take some time and effort, to be sure.)

The weekend in Washington started on Friday evening with trick-or-treating for TJ, and some great worship time for me. I had made plans to lead worship with a small (50-60 people) gathering of people nearby-- a connection through some friends-- that night. So I got TJ all dressed up in his dinosaur costume, (special thanks to the Curletta family for this one!), which he was VERY excited about and proud of, and I sent him off through the neighborhood with Gram, Aunt Margarite, and cousins Tori and Jonathan. And then I headed off to "The Garage" of East Peoria to worship. Wow, what an awesome night! TJ got his candy for his tummy and Daddy got to indulge in his own sampling of "morsels of sweetness from Immanuel" (a term I was introduced to by my dear friend Beau). (There's a story there, but another time, perhaps. I will say that anyone who has experienced worship like that already knows what I'm talking about, though-- like candy for the soul.) It was good just to worship and pray with a group of virtual strangers-- to feel so connected in the Spirit with them. It was as if I knew them all my entire life. I just felt "at home" there, in the presence of our God, worshiping and praying for one another... truly a refreshing experience.

Saturday morning, I had breakfast at a local diner with Dad and Chris (Leslie's dad and brother, that is). It was such a wonderful time. The food was fine, but the conversation was... well... I was just so "blessed", I guess. (I hate that I can't avoid certain "church-speak" terms sometimes... you'll just have to bear with me. There's just no better way to describe it in this case than to say "I was so blessed".) We talked about Leslie-- stories; memories; her present and eternal completion and healing and what it all means to us now, here in this place, "without her". We all shared "how we're doing", and told stories of ways that she's effecting us daily, even though she's gone. We related as to how our perspectives of Heaven have become so much fuller now than they used to be-- even different from what they were as she was dying, and certainly different from what they were before she was sick. Let me go a little deeper, here, because I believe it's such an important thought...

When Leslie was getting sicker-- as we both quietly knew "the end" was drawing nearer-- I used to cling to this more "worldly" view of Heaven. She and I both found solace and comfort in this notion that we were "one flesh", biblically speaking, here on earth... and perhaps this meant that we'd share "one flesh" in Heaven as well. Forever. For eternity. This actually made us HAPPY, even amidst her suffering. I remember holding her and just smiling together at the thought of being whole, healed, in eternal embrace, worshiping our God together with TJ, as a family again, some day. Now, the truth of that image has become a little more "full" and clear. Indeed, Leslie and I-- together with TJ-- will be more united "one day" than we ever were here, in our "marriage". But our connection in Heaven will be different. Less "limited" to each other. Indeed, we will be united with ALL of God's people in that same intense "marriage", with our "Bridegroom". I have hope, still, that we will have the joy of the memory of what we shared on Earth, but when that time comes, I believe now that it will be merely a sweet memory. And the fullness of what we have that day will far exceed-- even eliminate-- any desire to again have what we "lost" when she died. Just as she is more complete now than she ever was with me here in this life, so will I be more complete when I join her there. Similarly, she will not be any more complete then--when I join her-- than she is now. As Jesus said, "At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven." The really cool thing is, that He went on to say this: "But about the resurrection of the dead—have you not read what God said to you, 'I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob'? He is not the God of the dead but of the living."

WOW! and HALLELUJAH! I believe, in consideration of this passage, that God actually "blessed" us with our more limited view of heaven, as Leslie was "dying". It can, indeed, be a blessing that now we only see fragments of the fullness of the mysteries of God and eternity, pain and suffering, Justice and Truth-- as through a broken and foggy mirror. Indeed, someday, we will see clearly, face-to-face. But I can say that this fragmented, limited view of heaven got us through some very emotionally difficult times. He was, in that time, indeed the God of the living-- and our hope of eternity with Him was from the perspective of the life we were sharing at that time. Now that Leslie is there-- and I am not-- my perspective has changed a bit, as I have described above. I will no more be united with her that day, (as I reflected with Dad and Chris Saturday morning over our eggs and coffee), as I will be with you all. And that's okay with me, now. Because the fullness of the joy that we experience together in His presence then will just blow any memory of joy or happiness we have experienced here right out of the water. There will be no comparison. There will be no longing for these broken and incomplete "latter days". One of my favorite bands, Over the Rhine, sings about this beautifully:

What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be...

...If the music starts before I get back,

Dance without me-- you dance so gracefully.

I really think I'll be okay.

They've taken a toll, these latter days.

Leslie is okay. She's better than okay. She's complete. Perfect, even. And I'm left here with this "beautiful piece of heartache". All I am left to do is abide here... To dance without her. I shared this with Dad and Chris... that I will again learn to laugh. I will be happy again. Indeed, the joy and peace I've experienced these "latter days" since she left me is deeper and more wonderful than anything I've ever experienced... but I can't say I'm really that "happy" very often. But I'm getting there. And I will be. I'm settling onto the fact that I will probably re-marry someday. I even WANT that. I've tasted this little slice of heaven which we call "marriage"... and I long to taste it again, someday. "Anew". Certainly, it will be different. And certainly it will be good. And this new, more "complete" view of Heaven allows me to explore the thought of "moving on" without a guilty conscience. In fact, no longer do I worry about how my heart will ever be able to "deal with it". In fact, God has already done so much healing in the realm of my own heart and mind, in these regards. Indeed, time will only make things more clear, but I'm already in awe of how He's working in me. I AM concerned, though, for the heart and mind of my future wife, should God have such a person out there for me. I mean, I'd be bringing quite a bit of "baggage" into the relationship. As I said to Dad and Chris, she'd be marrying into TWO sets of in-laws, for petesakes! (the Aschlimans AND the Buchers) I could go on and on, concerning these thoughts-- what about TJ? What about the Leslie that will always be a part of me?, etc...-- but again, another time... And besides, it doesn't do "her" or myself any good to concern myself with such things. If "she" is indeed out there, I know that she is already in the palm of God's hand, and He is preparing her heart for such things.

These are all things that we discussed as a family this weekend. It was so good for all of us. And we laughed, celebrated, had fun, enjoyed one another. We even played some basketball (I sprained my ankle... ouch... a little puffy this morning). We had hot-dogs, sausages, and s'mores over a bonfire. The whole weekend was just a beautiful... FULL... Shoot, the weather was even gorgeous. The hardest part was leaving to come back home on Saturday night. I left TJ with Gram, at her request-- which was a no-brainer, since all his cousins were still there, and I had worship stuff the next day, and a lot of yard work to do. (He'll be back home today when I get back from work, and is having a GREAT time there.) But that meant that I had a 2-hour drive home, in the dark, alone. I was driving away from our family and toward an empty house. It was a drive Leslie and I made 100 times together. And Saturday night, I made it alone. It was a sad drive, to be sure. But as I stated earlier, I've learned to embrace-- even enjoy-- the sadness. I prayed. I remembered. I worshiped. I stared into oblivion. I drove. And on Sunday, I did church, yard work, small group, and even watched my Colts beat their arch-rival, the Patriots, on Sunday Night Football.

It was a full weekend, to be sure.

A good weekend.

A Fresh Reminder from an Old Note

2008-10-27T09:45:00.004-05:00

I had a bit of a crappy weekend. I just had a "sad" Saturday. Sparing the details, it was just a bad day. Believing lies as to the abundance and/or presence of God's love for me... what He sees in me... Failing to grasp the deepness of His grace which runs even deeper than my sin... feelings of inadequacy, without the balance of the feeling of God's strength and presence. Plus, TJ was "high-maintenance", throughout the entire weekend, wavering from tired and needy to slap-happy and silly to melting-down with tantrums. I was just bragging on him last week, and it's amazing how a couple of bad days can completely change my perspective on "how I'm doing as a father". Or "how he's doing without his Mommy". He woke me up this morning before my alarm went off-- remember I'm usually out of the house before he's up-- and he had a late night last night, with our small group meeting and what-not. He was bouncing off the walls by the time Dana arrived with her boys at 6:20. I had to give him a time-out before I even left at 6:30. Ugh...

Additionally, I'm a bit stressed with work, starting to "press" and find ways to be more successful. Not for personal gain, I mean... Just trying to figure out ways I can get my region and our company to its goals... things I can do better, differently, to help the process along. We're making progress, but it's not happening fast enough, in my mind...

And there are things I want to do... people I want to spend time with... places I want to go... "ministries" with which I want to serve... and so-on. And I'm just having a hard time figuring out how to fit it all into this new life. TJ is priority #1, and every minute he's awake and I'm not at work, I feel I'm justified in wanting to make sure I'm there to spend it with him... which means basically saying "no" to everything/ everyone else.

Anyway, I've just been struggling with anxiety and feelings of incapability to "do this".

"... abide, Tyson..."

I picked up my coffee on the way to work this morning, turned off the music, and just prayed my way through the commute. Again, I gave it all over to Him. My time, my passions, my son, my job, my hurting friends. And I worshiped. Acapella style. "All the Way My Savior Leads Me", and an old song I used to sing when I led worship at "The Point" back in Indy, by the "secular" group Lifehouse, (although they're Christians), called "Everything":

"How could I stand here with You and not be moved by You? Would You tell me, how could it be any better than this? 'Cause You're all I want, all I need, You're everything... Everything..."

Anyway, I'm feeling a bit better now. What brought me to write this little entry was the fact I was just brought to tears by an old "relic" of sorts... I was scrolling through my email archives, looking for an old contact from over a year ago, trying to knock another little bullet point off of my "to-do" list today... And I came across this note-- truly a gift from God, this morning. A blessing. So good to hear her voice like this, and have it be so relevant this morning. The "garage door" issue she writes about was basically the proverbial straw that had broken this camel's back the night before... There was a different "garage door" this weekend, but these words were a welcomed and soothing interruption to my day, appearing in my work email in-box, all over again this morning...

-------------------------------------------------

From: Leslie Bucher [mailto:ljbucher@yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, October 03, 2007 10:49 PM
To: Tyson Aschliman
Subject:

I am so sorry you are having a crappy couple of weeks.
I hate that I am not very good at encouraging you and
building you back up.

I feel the need to remind you that you are not
laboring in vain. You are working for the Lord. He
is in control when things are as they are now as much
as when things are really good. He can make the
garage door go up and down....or not. He can make TJ
well, and He can make my polyp go away, with or
without surgery.

Are you spending time with Him? Really spending time
with Him? He wants your full attention.

I love you. I can't wait to spend the weekend with
you.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"A little bit lonesome"

2008-10-21T19:55:00.005-05:00

So... fresh in the wake of what was this morning an uplifting, honest, and rejoicing post... I thought I'd make sure everyone here knows that these wonderful days of "abiding" are not without their-- shall I recall another favorite word-- "bittersweet" moments...

Tonight when I came home from work, Miss Liz and TJ were carving our pumpkins. TJ's was almost done-- a cute littler guy with a cross-eyed, one-tooth grin. Liz was just putting the finishing touches on it. Apparently, TJ had announced that he wanted the "Daddy jack-a-lantrun" to be an "angry" one. (Boy, a shrink would have a field day with THAT one, eh?) He's picking up from seasonal decorations he observes out and about-- that some Halloween things are "silly" and others are "angry". Anyway, after I got home, Liz set to rinsing and boiling the seeds from the gutted pumpkins for roasting before leaving for the evening, while I went to work on the Angry Daddy pumpkin... with my cordless drill. (A little trick I learned from my dad... after all, what's pumpkin carving without power tools?)

The seeds turned out deliciously-- seasoned with just a pinch of my baby-back-rib barbecue rub/ seasoning. And just before bath time we had a pumpkin lighting ceremony. The two "jacks-o-lantern" look so handsome there on the front porch, with the candle-light pouring through them. TJ was so proud. Just giddy. But I couldn't help but think there seemed to be one missing. There's something lonely looking about just 2 jack-o-lanterns sitting on the front porch. TJ seemed to be tracking with me, because when we came back in and headed up to bath-time, I could see his little mind start to kick into overdrive.

"We're back at OUR HOUSE!" He said, as if we'd just returned from some long voyage to some strange land. (We were 15 feet from our front door, for a grand total of about 2.5 minutes.)

"Yes, we are!" I humored him.

"Your house and MY house!" He clarified, in case I was wondering just whose house he was speaking of.

"Yup! Daddy's and TJ's," I echoed.

"And Mommy's in Heaven!" He said, out of no-where, seemingly to me... But I know he thought he was just finishing my thought for me. After all, it's not JUST Daddy's and TJ's house we're living in... it's supposed to be Mommy's too. (This was especially ironic for me tonight, because I'd just had a meeting with my mortgage guy to refinance the house, removing her name from the mortgage.) After some pause, he continued...

"I'm a little bit lonesome for Mommy." He said.

"Yes, Buddy..." I gave an adoring half-chuckle, to keep from crying. "I'm thinking of her quite a bit, too."

"Yeah. I wanted her to stay longer, but she didn't," he mused, as if she had some choice in the matter.

"Yes, TJ. I wish she could have stayed longer, too."

The whole conversation carried a rather matter-of-fact, light-hearted tone, really... as if we were talking about our pumpkins, still. And afterward, we took a shower, played band and baseball, brushed our teeth, and now he's asleep. We prayed as we normally do, thanking God for Mommy-- saying how much we love her and are happy that she is all better and with Jesus now, laughing and dancing and singing. He gave me his dimpled paci-smile as he always does when I pray that. And now he's asleep.

But his little words are still ringing in my ears. He's doing so well these days, that it's almost easy to overlook the scars on his little psyche... Hard to remember he's dealing with a broken heart-- trying to "fill the void"-- just like the rest of us. Shame on me for overlooking this. I'm thankful for that bittersweet little reminder tonight, and will make sure I give him plenty of opportunity to talk and share his thoughts about Mommy as the days continue to turn to weeks, and the weeks to months... and so-on...

Still Abiding

2008-10-21T08:39:00.007-05:00

Has it been a week already? I guess it's a good thing that the days are moving a little more swiftly lately. I remember vividly those days that seemed like years, just months ago. I'm still "abiding". That's the word. That's my life. And in a way, I wish I could throw the brakes on that ticking clock on the wall as it seemingly picks up speed-- lasso the sun as it races across the sky and say, "WHOAH, NELLIE! Just give me a minute here... I've got to just take this moment in..."

God is working all around me. My passions I spoke of a few posts ago (9/26- "A Better Version of Myself"), are still ablaze and burning hotter with each passing week. And He is "bearing fruit" as we say, in it all. It's good to be dwelling in a place of total reliance upon Him, and openness to the moving of His Spirit, wherever it leads. Scary? Maybe... and exciting. Crazy how "abiding" can be so much fun...

I've been thinking about Leslie quite a bit this week. It's still not a "sad" process when she enters my mind and I just dwell on her and the memories for a while. It's peaceful. Joyful, even. I'm still thankful for those memories-- that life we shared-- this life she's left me with. I do get teary when I remember those last few months... when every breath was a struggle... the pain and fear she faced with every beat of her failing heart... the feeling of hopelessness when all I could do was lie beside her in that bed and touch her arm, letting her know I was there. And then... I'm reminded that those days are over. Her suffering is done. She is now victorious. And that ever-present image of her refreshes itself in me even more vividly... That picture in my mind-- that one with her eyes half-closed, head tilted back, mouth opened in a dimply grin, and LAUGHING the way that she does-- which is certainly as contageous among the angels as it was among us mere mortals. And all is well again. Better than ever.

(top left- "TJ the Scarecrow"; above- "Playing in the giant corn sandbox"; left- "Bundled up in the wheel barrow at the orchard, eating an apple")

TJ and I have been loving the fall. Last weekend we went to the "Pumpkin Farm" (a local tourist trap in Bolingbrook called Johansson Farms-- pumpkins, cider, a giant petting zoo, rides, etc...), AND cousin Max's birthday party at an apple orchard (Jonamac near DeKalb-- another petting zoo and playground, "you-pick" apples, and some more rides). We had so much fun, and I thought of Leslie nearly constantly. First off, I was like the ONLY single dad at either establishment... of literally HUNDREDS of families in attendance. It seemed that way, at least. Strangely enough, it didn't bother me. I was just enjoying the sunshine, the crisp fall air, and the warmth of the love of my little boy. But it did make me think of Leslie-- how she would have loved to have been there with us. I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans... she would have certainly been layered up with sweaters, sporting her warm "furry boots" (they have a name, but it escapes me) and a stocking cap... maybe a jacket tied around her waste, "just in case". I found myself hoping beyond hope-- visualizing... BELIEVING-- that she was indeed "with us", watching from Heaven, being given the opportunity by God to just enjoy those moments with us, watching her boy and being proud of him as he played and petted the animals and ate his apples and giggled with glee as he rode the train ride. He's growing up. Every day something else strikes me deeply and profoundly... "When did he get so TALL!" "He looks more like his Mommy EVERY DAY!" "Where did he come up with THAT?" "He's just... growing up..." How I hope she is watching this... Not that it could make Heaven any sweeter for her than it already is... Or could it?

Nights haven't been as bad lately, praise God (and thank you for your prayers). I'm sleeping much better. The heaviness no longer keeps me awake and restless. The times of loneliness are fewer and fewer, and I'm falling in love with the solitude, (when I have time for it, that is). It's an amazing thing when your flesh-- and not just your spirit-- has a sense of being sustained by the Word of God. "The Gospel According to Job", and "Acts" have been my living water. The love, connection, support, and accountability of my friends and family-- "the Body", the community-- have been my manna.

Thank You, Loving Father... Giver and Taker-Away. Provider and Sustainer. Jehovah Jireh. Through my brokenness, You have again made me whole. You are rebuilding my crushed heart, and filling it back up with a love even greater than any I have ever experienced before. You are clearing my mind of my self-pity... even my sorrow... and filling it with Your ways... Your will... Your discernment. I do not deserve these things. I am not worthy of Your provision and love... and certainly not Your presence. But I have learned to accept... no, to CLING to Your grace, with all of my strength and life. It is so good to abide here with You.

One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. (Psalm 27:4)

Autumn

2008-10-15T11:05:00.002-05:00

Ah, the obligatory "changing of the seasons" post... :)

I'm so thankful for our mild and wet July-August we had this summer, because it's made for quite the still-frame fireworks display around these parts, this October. This is by far the prettiest I've witnessed in my relatively short tenure of residency in Chicagoland. To be honest, a "dry, dead, and brown" autumn would have been especially difficult for my eyes and heart to take, this year, for the obvious reasons. But the color is an every-day reminder of God's beauty in change. Those leaves are dying... soon to fall from their branches. Those trees are getting ready to go into a near-dead hybernation for 5 grueling months. But they're going out with a bang. Like a shooting star, blazing its glory as it burns out into nothingness. The glory they bring to God... the worship they draw my heart into, as I witness it all... Hallelujah, indeed.

Leslie and I did our best to enjoy "fall" every year. When we lived in Indy, we'd drive down to Brown County for a scenic hike and snap all kinds of wonderful photos. A couple of years ago, we drove up to Door County, WI to do a winery tour, sight-seeing, and horseback riding. But there was always a subtle sadness about her, as I recall, as we'd soak in the fall together. She knew the winter was coming. She hated the winter. She could hardly bear the cooler weather and shorter hours of daylight that October brought... as to her they were mostly just a foreshadowing of the ice and darkness to come... the darkness that was to almost certainly tug her heart toward another bout with her ongoing struggle with depression. Those who don't live in Chicago need to know... in December/January, the sun sets between 4 and 4:30 p.m. local time, which makes for extremely long and cold nights. And Leslie always needed her sunlight. She'd actually get angry when, every year, on June 21, I'd cheerfully say to her, "It's the longest day of the year, Babe! Get out and enjoy all the sunlight!" Because what she heard me saying (although I wasn't at all saying it, in my mind) was "it's all down-hill from here... shorter days... colder nights... are just around the corner". I can't help but ponder how joyful she must be now, knowing that there is no more winter to loathe... no more cold to endure... not even the threat thereof. I'm sure it's always summertime in Heaven... early-June, perhaps... Only there, the trees and landscape in "early-June" more resemble late-October here.

Certainly, there are cold days ahead. Yes, life is changing. But it's no less beautiful. There is no less reason to give God His due glory. In fact, on the contrary... With the memories (sweet and bitter) of last June still so fresh in my mind; with the vision of Leslie basking in the warmth and long hours of that mid-June sunlight, as she certainly is today; and now with all the color and Glory I see surrounding me-- this is the most beautiful October I can ever remember.

Sustained

2008-10-12T22:40:00.004-05:00

I just revisited my post on "The Gospel According to Job". As if I ever left it. This past week, this weekend, these nights have been a beautiful symbiosis of my "abiding", and God meeting my needs in very real ways. It doesn't always work like that, I know-- at least not as tangibly or obviously as it has these past days and even weeks. So I thought I would share it here, as an ambiguous acknowledgment, of sorts, of the miracles God is working every day to sustain me. To keep me focused on Him-- His will, His ways, His "plan for me"-- this "story" He's writing.

I've acknowledged the concept of "manna" in the past. I believe what I said then was merely something along the lines of "...am I EXCITED to eat the stuff day in and day out? Nope. But it's good. And it's sustaining." Well, my tune has changed along these lines, lately. The "manna" (His daily provisions and sustenance, as I continue to trust and "abide" in Him) is growing on me, like an acquired taste, of sorts. I'm now finding myself waking up in the morning, eager to partake of the stuff. In fact, now the temptation is to store it up in jars, for another day when the presence of it might not be as apparent... but we all know that that's just not what God wants us to do with manna.

Metaphor aside... THIS is what Christ-following is supposed to be like... Abiding in Him. Receiving His blessings. Not worrying about tomorrow (after all, tomorrow will worry about itself). Eating the manna He provides-- and turning the feeling of a full belly and the hunger pangs alike back to Him in praise... but there I go again, back to that metaphor.

"Sustained" usually sounds like a boring word. It's not exciting, on its cover. But I've learned to love it... to be excited by it... to see just HOW in the world God is going to get me through THIS morning... THIS 3-year-old melt-down... THIS conflict at work-- or dare I say, even this sticky situation at church. Don't get me wrong, I'm not casting myself down from the highest point of the Temple, "daring" God to catch me every morning when I wake up. (Sorry to steal your sermon point from this morning, Pastor Ronn.) I'm abiding in His word. In His truth, and love, and grace, and identity. And He is sustaining me in that. And it's a heck of a lot more adventurous than I'd ever have imagined.

So many of you who read these posts have sent me notes, made phone calls, sent emails, posted replies-- and you tell me you are asking God for just this, on my behalf. Know that your prayers (and mine alike) are being answered daily. I can't explain all the blessings... God is unpredictable and even "illogical" at times, just like any person tends to be. (Call it "free will", I guess...) But I'm not foolish enough (or perhaps pious enough) to not accept the blessings-- the manna-- being laid out before me. So I partake. And I am sustained... in a new way every day. Thank you all-- my close friends and mere strangers alike-- who take the time to make the call, say the word of encouragement, send the note, etc... This is some of the "manna" I speak of. Some of it is how He meets me in prayer-- speaks when I listen... answers when I call. Again... the manna-- His blessings-- are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness, Oh, God!

(I guess this is what you call "having a good night". Another little "miracle"... remember... Sunday nights are usually my worst.)

Missing Mommy

2008-10-08T20:37:00.003-05:00

I was welcomed back home tonight from a short business trip to Wisconsin with a GORGEOUS October sunset. "It's ORANGE!" TJ said, as we drove home from Aunt Dana's, where he spent last night and today. Later he declared, "My favorite color is orange! And BLACK!" I think he's seen too many halloween decorations lately, maybe.

As is typical, when I return from not seeing him for anything longer than a "normal" work day, he had a little "melt-down" once we were home alone together tonight. It was actually pretty manageable, as far as melt-downs go. And he's lying beside me in my bed, holding my neck, sucking on his paci, as I type this... trying to go to sleep. I understand that these little episodes have something to do with a "change in venue"... going from all the action of Dana's house-- the boys, Dana's "parenting", etc...-- and the drastic change of coming home to be alone with Daddy. It doesn't really bother me as much anymore. I understand it's just the "adjustment" thing. Tomorrow, he'll wake up and be a model child again, I'm sure of it. (Or hoping for it.)

I was talking to Dana today about some of his new "quirks" lately... The occasional melt-down, the struggle to get him to go to sleep at night, etc... "It's not fair. It's not right. A boy needs his mommy. I feel so bad for him. But it is what it is. I wish I could shave my neck closer to make it feel more like Mommy's. Spray her perfume on me or something... To give him that comfort, that nurturing that only she could give. But I can't. This is his life, now. He's going to have to figure out how to 'deal with it', with what he's being provided... in me, in you, in this 'new life'."

Of course, TJ doesn't even realize he "misses" her. He asks about her regularly. It's typically the same routine-- talking about Mommy being with Jesus in Heaven, worship Him, and laughing, and being happy and "all better"... and of course, getting TJ's drumset ready. Earlier this week, he asked if when we go to Heaven some day, to be with God and Mommy, if we can all come back and sleep at our own house at night. I told him we would have an even BETTER house in Heaven. And he didn't like that. He wants to come back to our house HERE. Fortunately, I got him distracted with another topic, and the conversation dead-ended.

My mom-in-law came up on Monday to watch him. She took him to the soccer park so she could see the tree and the marker, while he kicked goals. After he played for awhile and she cried for awhile, at her directing, he said goodbye to Mommy's tree. He asked if he could give it a kiss. Mom of course allowed him to do so. And afterward, he told her, "Mommy said 'I LOVE YOU' back to me!!" They walked back to the house... both with warmed hearts.

He's been very into "God" lately. He loves the idea of "worshiping"... I think it helps him feel closer to Mommy, knowing that's what she's doing up in Heaven. He often talks about her after we "worship" together. Saturday he wanted to paint. I got out his big painting tablet and some of his paints and brushes, and he painted two BEAUTIFUL pictures... more of the abstract/ avant garde genre, but lovely nonetheless. While he painted the first picture-- which oddly enough ended up resembling a pine tree propped up against a beautiful sunset-- he announced, "I'm painting this picture for GOD!" This of course made his Daddy VERY proud, and I told him so. I explained to him that, just like when we play band and sing "Mighty to Save" and "My Redeemer Lives" and "My Chains are Gone" and all those songs in the basement, painting a picture for God is also worship. "TJ-- you're worshiping God right now! Isn't this fun?" He beemed and nodded. "And you know what else?? That makes God VERY happy!" He was so happy with himself.

The second picture ended up looking something more like the newspaper or drip-cloth that remains under the dye-bowls after kids are done coloring easter eggs. Nice colors-- purples, pastels, yellows... but no form, whatsoever. We'll keep practicing... But anyway, I'm sure Jesus thought it was just perfect... that second picture, after all was for Him, according to TJ, who was apparently excited about the idea of worshiping with paint.

I hope "They" or "He" share(s) those beautiful little works of art with Leslie. I wonder how much of TJ she can see...? How much of his "growing up" she's aware of... a "part" of... "sharing" in... I tend to think (not that there's necessarily any Biblical support for this), that if in fact Heaven is "perfect", (which it is), then certainly she is allowed opportunities to look into his life and bask in the glory of God, which is expressed in the life of her beautiful son here on earth.

I also wonder about just how much TJ thinks about her. Certainly more than he asks. I find him looking at pictures of her now and then, humming songs to himself, smiling... I'd love to peek into his little mind and see what's going on... I look forward to, sometime down the road, speaking to a more grown-up version of him about his Mom. I'm not in a hurry to get there... we're just fine right here, right now... but it will be nice to just talk about what he remembers... and to hear him ask me questions about what he does not...

Anyway... This is not supposed to be a sad post. And if you're crying, I hope it's not out of "sympathy" for us. These are truly sweet and wonderful things to ponder. These are sweet and wonderful days. We're doing quite well, really. It's just that she is still-- and forever will be-- a part of our life. I guess I can say, "...on Earth as it is in Heaven." Amen!

The Gospel According to Job

2008-10-05T19:37:00.005-05:00

I'm reading a book right now, complements of my good friend Ronn-- also the pastor of my church-- which shares the same title with this particular post. Mike Mason is the author. It has been so good for my soul, even though I'm just digging into it-- not even a quarter of the way through, yet. It is a verse-by-verse "devotional" of sorts, of the book of Job.

Crazy, but Job wasn't really (according to most scholars) "in the fold", so to speak-- he wasn't of the "tribe of Abraham". He was "from the East". Not an Israelite. Most likely, he had no knowledge of Moses and the 10 Commandments, or "The Law" that was given to "God's People"... he had probably never even heard of Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob. In fact, some scholars believe Job even PRE-DATED Abraham. Therefore, the account of his life, trials, grief, and worship were very "non-religious". He had virtually no "historical" or "traditional" religion. He simply knew the Almighty God, as His Divine Nature and Person were simply written on the heart of Job (as they are every person), and Job simply was in communion with this Almighty that superceded all religion. In fact, hundreds if not THOUSANDS of years before the Cross, Job experienced the Truth and Grace and Hope and Passion of the Gospel, in the midst of his suffering before the Almighty. Kind of humbling, isn't it? As much as we run to our traditions and institutions for answers and comfort, here is a man who lost it all. He had no "church", no "Scripture", no "denominational heritage"... only God. Yet his faith was greater than anyone on this earth today, in my opinion. He poured out ALL he was to God-- his anger, his sense of mercy, his God-given wisdom and knowledge, his pain, his hope... his "humanity". Dude GOT "worship". He GOT "pursuing God"... "abiding" in Him...

Abiding...

Now there's a concept. I was just emoting to a friend today about how Leslie was an anchor for me... she met so many of my needs. The one that I've been wrestling with lately has been this: I have a need to be affirmed... to be known... to be understood. Not by everybody (in fact, I could care less about what 99.99% of the people in this world care or think about me)... but as for those whom I love... I need to know they love me... that I bring value to their life... that I am unique, cherished, of value. When Leslie was alive, she was "enough". She got me. We were WAY different in so many regards, but she cherished me, in all my strange-ness and quirkiness. She affirmed my thoughts, encouraged the passions of my heart. She would just lie there and listen in the dark at night whilst I spilled the eternal yearnings of my soul. And she would acknowledge them. Affirm me. Love me.

And now, she's gone.

A voice whispers... "abide..."

Those of you who know me know that I'm not a man of few words. This blog in and of itself is evidence of this fact. I struggle with that-- "...be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry..." a "mantra" of mine, of sorts, since my adolescence... one which is still so elusive to this day. I'm much more likely to be the person who lies awake at night regretting what he said, rather than the one who tosses and turns thinking of the things he wishes he would have had the words (or guts) to say. Neither is a worse person... But our struggles are unique, one from the other. I'm a verbal processor, though. (I know... HUGE revelation, right?) And Leslie was the bearer of that "listening" burden for me, for most of my adult life. At least, the part I remember. And there is definitely a "void" left, in her absence. (Man, I'm full of the profoundly obvious, tonight.) But the temptation is to rush to fill that void. To be known as she knew me, by another. Anybody. Somebody. Man, woman, or blog. And God has been whittling away at me... "Really, my son... what is it that you don't already have in me that your heart is telling you it desires? Do I not listen? Am I not here with you? Have I not proven my presence? What else do you hunger for?"

As I reflected into a microphone at church today, amidst a worship set that spoke to my own heart-- sandwiched between the songs "Hungry" and "All the World Will Sing Your Praises"-- "We don't live on bread alone... but on EVERY WORD that comes from the mouth of God." I'm so hungry, indeed. But the same God that poured the parts of Himself into Leslie with which He used to meet those very intimate and emotional needs in me-- that "hunger"... The strength He poured into her in order to make her the perfect partner for me-- is STILL HERE, even in her absence... and I know He will continue meeting my needs. I confess that it is difficult to not rush to fill the void myself... to wait. To abide. To "be still and know that I am God". It's hard to find solitude when the loneliness is so loud. It's hard to let His peace settle on me, some nights, when the angst is raging through my heart and mind-- that noise that Leslie would help me absorb and tame, by her mere presence, listening ear, and feedback.

But the Almighty is still here, and He's listening. Just as He was for Job. (As if I can compare my lot to Job's!) And gradually, He's teaching me to be content with that. In Him. To... "abide".

Needing prayer for peace tonight... that I might "abide".

Maybe if I say that word enough, it will start to sink in...

Abide...

2008-10-02T23:39:00.003-05:00

The 3rd tree is planted. The marker in place. It reads: "Leslie Bucher Aschliman/ 1976-2008/ In loving memory of our Mommy, wife, sister, daughter, and friend./ "... and every time people looked at the third tree, they would think of God."/ ("The Tale of Three Trees" -A.E. Hunt)

TJ and I took a walk to the soccer park today to take a peek. It was beautiful. This particular tree is a red oak, so in years to come, it will put on quite the fireworks display in the fall... so fitting for our Leslie. TJ and I played soccer in one of the vacant fields, right next to the tree. He scored lots of goals, and I could have sworn I saw that little red oak clap its branches together a time or two, in response.

It was a good evening for us. Just around the house/ neighborhood. Band and baseball (whilst watching the Cubbies get spanked AGAIN!) before bed. Just a good night. And it's been a good week... slower paced than the last few, and surprisingly, the "space" in the days has not been filled by an influx of sadness or recurring grief... I still seem to be dwelling in this place of miraculous peace and comfort-- praise God! Still lots of smiles of good memories, and an indescribable "closeness" to her... but not a heavy sadness... So weird...

A funny TJ story to end this evening-- and a reminder to you parents out there that little eyes are ALWAYS watching... He was playing at Aunt Dana's house yesterday with his cousins' play kitchen set. (He LOVES "cooking".) Out of nowhere, he stops and looks at Dana and says, "When my daddy was putting together my kitchen set at my house... he got VERY angry!"

... Well... the thing was imported and a horrible example of cheap engineering. A guy needs 5 hands just to hold the pieces in place while he tries to screw in the single bolt that holds the thing together with his toes! I mean... C'MON! Who designed the piece of........... ?!!! I mean... errr.... Was it really that obvious to him that I was that angry?

Thank God for granting me grace to make it through that "trying moment" without expanding my 3-year-old's vocabulary in a direction I would surely regret. And God help me in the trying moments to come...

Take Me Out to (another) Ballgame

2008-09-28T14:44:00.010-05:00

So my good friend Matt has the Cubs hook-up. While TJ and I LOVE our Cubbies, our love and dedication is puny compared to that of Matt's. In fact, not only is he the biggest Cubs fan I know... it's a scientific fact that he is on the short-list of the greatest Cubs fans on earth...

Last year, he was one of the 10 finalists of a field of thousands for the first annual "Ultimate Cubs Fan Seventh Inning Stretch" contest. The first round was an essay contest, followed by a series of "tryouts" in front of a panel of Cubs executives and "Legends" including Ernie Banks and Dutchie Caray-- the wife of the late great Harry Caray. The winner got to lead the historical singing of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" at a Cubs game late in the year. While Matt didn't win the "grand prize", he got a bunch of really cool parting gifts, and also made a lot of friends on the "inside" of the organization.

After Leslie's fight ended back in July, Matt wanted to do something special for TJ and me. He made a call to one of his "inside" friends and told them our "story". As a result, we were given the tickets to the big Cubs-Brewers game a week or so back, as the two teams were in the middle of the pennant chase. (I had mentioned this in another post, and alluded that there was more to the story.) Not only were we given tickets to the game-- we were basically given the "movie star" treatment. Literally... We met the guy from the Sopranos, saw several government officials and "big money" sponsors and celebreties... which you tend to do when you're sitting in ROW 8 of SECTION 16!!! (For those of you who don't know Wrigley... that's 8 seats behind the Cubs' on-deck circle, right on the field.) (We were so close, Alfonso Soriano-- the Cubs' All-Star left fielder, actually smiled and waved at TJ before going up for an at-bat in the 5th inning.) OH! And before the game, during batting practice, we were escorted onto the ACTUAL FIELD for a photo op. People who are allowed this opportunity often compare the experience to the Israelites' first setting foot in the Promised Land... an experience so many of their forefathers (including Moses himself) longed for but were never afforded the opportunity. (I, of course, wouldn't go so far to make that comparison... but I'm not going to dispute the assertion by others, either.) :) Even TJ seemed to be taken with it-- even stricken with fear, clinging to my neck like a Koala on a gum tree, staring down at the grass, eyes like saucers. I know it sounds ridiculous. If you don't "get it", I can't make you understand... I guess I can recommend a movie-- one of Leslie's and my favorites... Watch "Fever Pitch". A great "sports movie" for the guys, and a romantic comedy for the ladies. But "Red Sox Nation" pre-2005 (the setting and "gist" of the movie) can be easily compared to "Cubs Nation" of today. The horribly tragic dedication of an entire culture of fans, who live and die (or more appropriately, LOSE and die) with their baseball team.

Anyway, the experience was wonderful. Oh, it was even capped off by the Cubs' 4-run, 2-out rally in the bottom of the ninth-- with the help of a 3-run homer by one of TJ's 2 favorite players, Geovany Soto-- to send it into extras. And then TJ's other "guy", Derek Lee won it in the 12th with a walk-off RBI single. Awesome.

I know Leslie was smiling down on us. And if the Cubs pull off the unimaginable and actually (forgive me, Cubs fans, should I end up jinxing the run) WIN the World Series for the first time in 100 years this year... don't think for a minute Leslie doesn't have something to do with it. I can just picture her talking to God... "He's had a really rough year. I know, his myopic dedication is a bit a pain in the neck... but you think you might be able to do me a favor, and help the Cubs make a run here, in October...?"

(TJ and his new favorite Cubbies souvenir-- the giant foam Cubbie Claw!)

A Better Version of Myself

2008-09-26T12:16:00.007-05:00

"You make me a better man. A better version of myself." I used to tell Leslie that. She loved me, as different from her as I was. As much as I could get under her skin. And I loved her so much that I desired to hone the things about me that she found easy to love, and trim the rest down to nothing. She "reeled me in". She kept me in my shoes. She taught me how to love people better... how to have compassion and "come alongside". She taught me how to shut up and listen, and to think twice (or more) before responding. She taught me the quieter side of passion and private side of laughter. I could go on... but you don't have the time to read all the things she taught me. Basically, summarized, she taught me how to live the only life I know how to live today.

The crazy thing is that, through the events of the last several months, she has taught me (is teaching me) even more than she did through our first 6 or 7 years. I'm realizing, now that she is not actually here, in the flesh, just how much a part of ME she not only WAS, but truly IS... she always will be, in this life, and for "forever". Don't misconstrue this to mean that I'm sobbing my way through these days and nights, unable to function without my "better half". (Because to be honest, that is quite far from the reality I'm experiencing, as ashamed as I am to admit it.) But she does, in fact, remain my "better half". We are no longer married, (death did, in fact, us part). This is no longer "our life"-- it is now "the life she left me with". But she is still my "defining thing" up to this point in life... I am forever changed. I am not the man (or perhaps, the "boy" would be a better descriptor) that I was before Leslie was in my life. And I will never be the same.

I find it interesting, as my heart continues to heal, little by little, that each day I have more emotional, spiritual, cognitive, etc... energy to invest in other things. Less of my energy is spent on the burden and sorrow associated with "grief" and the re-living of the tragedy of the past year. Indeed, those things stretched me... made me stronger... made my very capacity to experience life and exhert such the afforementioned energy incomparably greater. Through these experiences, God taught me to RELY on Him... to RECEIVE His strength, just to get me through the day. He taught both Leslie and me to receive and be content in our portion... to, in Him alone, find the very definition of our being...

And now, with this increased "capacity", coupled with the "lighter burden" associated with God apparently starting the healing process in my heart, I find myself feeling more alive and passionate about certain things. It's like God is putting things on my heart... filling the void that is left in Leslie's absence. This is not that original of a thought... one of Leslie's friends sent me this quote from Kahlil Gibran: "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." Indeed, how true!

Anyway, these "reawakened passions" have been heavy on my mind, beating wildly in my heart... with a new clarity and sense about them, now. These "passions" aren't new to me-- they've always been there. They're just revitalized, lately. And they are finding themselves into my thoughts and actions and conversations with friends and strangers over and over again, more than they did when Leslie and I were young and healthy, and life was easier.

An inexhaustive list of these "passions" is as follows-- I should note that these are all things that Leslie "shared" with me... things that Leslie helped me to define and explore through our life together:

My God and Me- Worship. His love for me. His desire to be known and loved by every person. The beautiful mystery of the Cross. The physical reality of the power of the Holy Spirit. My understanding of Him. Grace. Peace, Agape Love, and so-on...
God and His Church- We are a broken, segregated, mess of a remnant of what we were in The Acts of the Apostles. (aka, the book of Acts) Yet, we have more power, knowledge, resources, and numbers than EVER. Just IMAGINE if... ... ...!!!
People in Need- The broken-hearted. The fatherless. The widow(-er). ;) Those who know or have known burden, suffering, and trial... and who subsequently also know the resulting blessing. Fits nicely in with #'s 1 and 2, if you ask me.
TJ- 2 letters will never hold as much love and life as these two letters do. The single biggest requirer and source of my love and energy on God's earth.
Health- My "physical" life. What I put into my body. What I get out of it.
Human Expression- "the arts". Music. Movies. Literature. Just simple conversation. and so-on.
The Concept of Marriage- An underappreciated and misunderstood blessing from God. To its very core, a miraculous image of completion... a taste of Heaven, right here on earth.

The list is larger... and perhaps this is over-simplified, in that some of these (#1 being the glaring example) might be better served as several different "passions"... but you get the idea. Anyway... don't be surprised if you log on in the future to find entire posts dedicated to one of the above. And when you do, you'll know how this relates to what God is doing in this, "...another chapter".

Praise God (yet again) for the gift of Leslie that continues to live (and will forever live) in my life. And the beautiful paradox of how this "gift" is beginning to thrive, in the midst of His healing in my life.

"Bittersweet" revisited

2008-09-22T09:13:00.003-05:00

I just realized that many of the readers here may not have any clue what I was just referring to, with my "Bittersweet" reference. I just realized that the reference actually outdates this current blog. As some of you know, I started "blogging" on my MySpace page a year ago, so that friends and family could keep up to date with Leslie's journey. That site was then mirrored by a friend of ours in a more public forum, entitled "Leslie's Journey"... and the whole thing kind of took on its own personality from there. The amount of encouragement Leslie and I got from the comments and support from those blogs was tremendous-- God used it as a vehicle to prove His presence and His hand in "our story". That being said, I've recently received some inquiries via this site, regarding our entire "story". Well here you go... the whole kit and kaboodle. A very long read, just to warn you, from September of '07 through July of '08. (Both "sites" are still available-- links below, depending on your preference of MySpace vs. Blogspot. As a disclaimer-- the pagination/ spacing of the blogspot mirror site can get a little hard to read, due to "copy/paste translation" issues...)

http://blog.myspace.com/tyson_aschliman

http://www.forleslie.blogspot.com

Anyway, on July 12 of 2008, I posted the following blog. Leslie's health was going down-hill quickly (obviously... her fight was over on the 26th of that same month). And as I re-read it, a mere 2 months after she was taken from me, I'm struck with the same thoughts, in a whole new light, all over again. This has been a "theme" of sorts, in my life, these past 5 months...

-------
Bittersweet...

And I'm thinking... Love...
It's bittersweet.
More sweet than bitter.
Bitter, then sweet.
It's a bittersweet surrender.

Those are the lyrics to a chorus of a Big Head Todd song I fell in love with in college. I think I just liked the melody and syncopated rhythmic guitar part. There was a certain passion and even an anguish in the singer's voice. Funny how songs that I used to enjoy and sing thoughtlessly along with take on a whole new meaning these days.

(For those of you who are MySpace users, you can hear the song on my main Profile page-- just click on my name above the picture of Leslie and me in the upper left.)

It's been bittersweet. I guess that's the report. I realize it's been over a week since my last update. I've been kind of waiting for something encouraging to happen-- some sort of event I can report-- so I could come at you with a "gee, that sucked, but things are looking up." And all I can really say, when it comes to Leslie's health, is "gee, this sucks..." And that's all. And it's an understatement of a lifetime.

I can't even begin to recount all the "action" around here over the past week-plus. Summarized: Leslie was caught in a "Twilight Zone" of sorts, until about Wednesday of this week. She was (even in her own present recollection of the week) unable to differentiate between what was really going on and what was happening in her dreams/ delirium. The good news-- she was so out of it, she doesn't really remember much at all. But, it was rough, whether she realizes it or not now. She was so weak, it was all she could do was roll off of bed and onto the bed-side commode, and back into bed. Reach for the puke bucket, alert me (via TJ's baby monitor now in her room) that there was some "tending" to do-- usually just by groaning my name-- and then roll back over and plunge back into the sleep-coma. Maybe she'd manage a phrase or two of conversation while she was "awake"... but 90% of it was disoriented... she was basically working me into her dreams. And I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had no idea what she was talking about. It was just the dehydration (even though the nurse comes daily-- sometimes 2x/day to administer fluids), low potassium, poor nourishment, and the chemo-narcotic cocktail raging through her body... all working together to put on quite the show in her mind for the 5-day stint. Tuesday things were calming down a little, and Wednesday I was back to work. She called me that morning at the office, and I could tell by her voice-- even as weak and raspy as it was-- that she was "back".

"Good MORNING, Baby!" I laughed.
"How long have I been sleeping?" She asked weakly.
"About 5 days," I said. "What do you remember?"
"I don't know... Commercials and parts of movies I know I didn't see... and bits and pieces of conversations I'm not sure we really had... What day is it?"

Her mind is back with us, now. But her body is still so weak. She's still unable to get out of bed and to the bathroom by herself. She's trying to eat-- but her digestive track is still not cooperating. The nurse is coming by in a little bit to get her some more fluids. Our goal today is to get her downstairs and in the Lay-Z-Boy for the day, so she can participate-- or at least be a spectator in-- the normal Saturday action... Wiggles, baseball games (on TV and in the living room), books, pretend cooking, real cooking, etc... The objective is just allowing some of her strength to come back. Her weight is now down almost 40 lbs (and those of you who know her know that she didn't even have 5 to give, originally) since "the beginning". Her lungs and muscles and bones just need the stimulation.

We had an emotional but wonderful conversation last night. We just had a lot of catching up to do. Her eyes are now alert and strong again. We're just trying to get her body to catch up a little. We're not sure why this "Week One" was so violently difficult... The doctor's don't even know what to expect, one cycle to the next. We can hope that it's because the chemo drugs are starting to make big progress against the tumors and cancer in her blood, and it's just wearing her out. But we just don't know. Meanwhile, I'm just happy she doesn't remember much of it.

TJ has been so amazing through the course of this. He got to spend last weekend at his cousins' house in Wheaton-- a time full of fireworks, parades, and all kinds of fun and games... and family. He had so much fun, but was very excited to be home. He's kind of "adjusting" to Mommy being "sick". He's very "gentle" when he goes in to see her-- knocking on her door and quietly calling out, "can we come in Mommy?" before entering. He seems joyful, secure, loving, and very aware of everything... like he always is. Praise God for this. He is good and full of grace. He's protected Leslie's heart over the past week. Even her mind. And He's given me TJ-- my own little Ativan pill-- keeping me "calm and happy" when I otherwise should be struggling for my breath and sanity. So... I guess... it's like I said at first... Every day... Every breath of every minute... It's bittersweet.

...and then some

2008-09-22T08:13:00.007-05:00

So it turns out that my crappy morning on Friday may have been virus-induced. I'm pretty sick, and struggling to keep my wits about me. Not out-cold-on-my-rear-end sick like I can get. It's an I-can-still-go-to-work-and-stuff sick. But it just makes "dealing with the day" a bit more difficult. Yesterday was a busy Sunday. We had an evening church meeting for which I was asked to lead worship, in addition to the usual morning service. Both were such blessings, and were great for my heart, soul, mind, and strength. God has a way of meeting me when I'm at my worst, like that-- hardly able to talk, with the laryngitis and what-not, laced with all kinds of cold/flu medicines, low-grade fever sweats... but I open my mouth and the worship comes out, and He is glorified.

But as I was leaving the evening meeting last night, guitar under one arm, and TJ in the other, I was just struggling. I get that way on Sunday nights, anyway. I always have. As much as I love my job, and as "easy" as Monday mornings are for me (relative to the average among working people everywhere), I just have always struggled letting go of the weekend... the time at home, the rest, the comfort, and so-on. It used to be that I'd just lean on Leslie those nights. The aforementioned card games and a glass of wine. Maybe crash on the couch and watch a movie or a couple of our Office episodes. (By the way... has the Office new season started yet? I've completely lost touch with the world of Dwight, Jim, Pam, Michael, and the gang.) Last night, driving home with a wired and over-tired 3-year-old in the back seat, feeling my fever creep back a little, I was just really loathing facing the evening at home without Leslie. It was a night that, had it been a year or so ago, I would have just said, upon arriving home, "Honey, I need to pay some bills and clean up the desk. I feel like crap, and need to get to bed early. Can you take care of TJ duty tonight?" Instead, I just prayed all the way home (it was a short drive- 2 miles maybe- but it felt like 1000), "God... Provide... Get me through... Heal me... Settle him... I can't..." and so-on.

Now- to those of you from my church who are reading this... Please don't take this as a "cry for help" or as a "guilt trip" or whatever. I had so many people offer me last night, before leaving for home, "ANYTHING...ANY TIME..." But the fact of the matter is, TJ and I just need nights like this. It's all part of the process. To have had somebody else there to "help out" would have made it emotionally quite a bit harder. It's hard to explain. But I just needed to experience the "solitude" last night. (Different than "loneliness", as a cousin wiser than me has eloquently pointed out.) There are times God provides actual people and opportunities and tangible vehicles of His grace. And then there are times like last night where He attends to us as we wander in the desert. I'm not afraid to accept help when it's needed. I'm also not afraid to decline when I don't.

Anyway, God again provided, and here I am again, at my desk, taking a busy-work break to share this all with you. I'm not sure if I'm feeling better or worse, this morning, in regards to this little virus. I guess we can just say it's "progressing" which is better than "going nowhere". I should be back to 100% by the end of the week, according to others who seem to have had the same thing. More notable, perhaps, is an experience I had this morning, as I was getting ready for the day. It was before sunrise, the only light in the room was coming from my closet and the adjascent bathroom. I was sitting on my bed, buttoning up my shirt, just looking at the pictures on Leslie's dresser.

Just beautiful photos of the two of us. (I mean, photos of beautiful moments... you know what I mean...) On our wedding day. (pictured here) At a romantic little restaurant in St. Marten on our honeymoon. (We looked so YOUNG!) A picture of us grinning proudly as she holds up a giant 24" catfish she had just pulled out of my parent's pond. And one of my personal favorites-- pictures of us at Tad (my little brother) and Amity's wedding. I have often said that, while Leslie was unbelievably gorgeous on her wedding day, I believe she looked her BEST at that wedding, in July of '07, a mere two months before she was diagnosed. It's just so hard to believe, as I stare at her face in those pictures, that a tumor was growing there, right behind her eyes...

Anyway, I'm sitting there on my bed this morning, in a bit of a haze as I try to shake free from the grasp of sleep, trying to get my senses about me, to determine just how sick I am this morning... just staring at these pictures. And I realize in a moment of self-awarenes... I'm not crying. In fact, I'm smiling. The joy of the memories encapsulated in those pictures, even in my moment of half-consciousness, outweigh the pain of the loss that has followed. I am so thankful for the life we had, even if it is no longer. It is still ours. It is still mine.

So I hate to be redundant and go back to the "bittersweet" theme... But so it is this morning. Trying to keep in my right mind-- and within striking distance of the nearest bathroom-- as this virus "progresses", just trying to "get through" the day... the week... but with a soft smile on my face, in utter appreciation and thanksgiving for the gift of life with which we were blessed for those 7 years... and even more so, knowing that I get to carry those seven years with me, for the rest of this life... and then some.

Rested and Restless

2008-09-19T06:52:00.002-05:00

Yesterday we attended the Cubs game at Wrigley. It wasn't just ANY game. (More to come, once I get the pic's uploaded.) But we had a great time. Of course, TJ missed his nap, and I've had a crazy week with less sleep than I usually require... so right after bath time we both fell asleep as I was settling him down. 10 hours of sleep is usually enough to give me a good morning. This morning, I woke up in a cloud, and feeling restless. Cue: some good prayer-in-the-shower time, some morning coffee... and I'm feeling a bit better now.

I'm doing very well, day-to-day. Too well. Kind of like when the Israelites of the Old Testament were blessed with good times, they got fat and lazy and their minds drifted from God. Then, there would be a famine, or they'd be attacked by another army, or whatever, and then they'd turn their thoughts and hearts back to God, begging for His help. That's how it works for us, isn't it?

I haven't "drifted" far. But it's just easier to fall into the trap of "doing it yourself", as things get better... easier. I know this is what has happened over the past week, because scrolling through my memory, thinking of my prayers this week... I've spent more time in repentance and confession than I have just giving Him glory and asking for His strength and peace. That tells me that I'm wrestling more with sin and pride through the day, rather than just "basking in His glory" and worshiping Him.

I righted the ship this morning. I'm just frustrated at my weakness... the fleeting nature of my spirit. I can't believe that thing I said, or that thing I did, in my moment of prideful resistance of the Holy Spirit-- those sins of the week that I know have already been forgiven, but they still have left the bruises. And when I'm in "that" place-- that restlessness, when I'm focused more on my own heart rather than the heart of God-- it's just easy to start asking stupid questions... "What is my life about? Is this where I want to be? What I want to be doing? Will my heart ever be healed? Will I know happiness again? Will I ever LAUGH as we used to laugh?" And so-on.

All that being said, as I stop and take a breath and "take inventory" this morning, I've been unbelievably encouraged when I see the "fruit" God is bearing, all around me. The conversations He's allowed me to have... the wisdom I feel He's granted me in crucial situations at work, at home, out-and-about... He's using me, He continues to use Leslie, and that feels good. It just scares me how little time it takes for my heart to wander a little... for my pride to slip in and try to take over the reigns.

Anyway, like I said... the ship is righted, and I can finally feel that mainsail catching a stiff breeze... and I'm back on my voyage, off to start another day.

(I PROMISE that will be my last sailing reference. I don't even sail. I was going to delete it, due to the sheer "corny" factor, alone. But it fits, for whatever reason, this morning.)

Dreams, Lies, and Riding the Waves

2008-09-15T09:12:00.008-05:00

Leslie's sister is the 2nd most amazing woman I've ever met. (No disrespect, Dana, but you know I'm a little biased toward your sister.) :) Dana's wisdom and intelligence are matched only by her own compassion and love. And she was the closest of friends with Leslie. She and her husband, Curt, have shaken up the routine and order of their own lives, now (it was an intricate and complex routine as it was-- they have 4 boys of their own, ages 1-8), in order to honor one of Leslie's dying wishes, that Dana might be a sort of "surrogate mother" to TJ. This morning, as she does every Monday, she packed her boys into the minivan before sunrise and proceeded to navigate her way through the streets of suburbia so that TJ could start his week in his own house, and so I could leave as early as possible for work, in hopes to "beat the rush" to my office. I wrestle every week with accepting this unbelievably selfless gesture from her. And every week, I humbly accept. As she and her mom keep telling me, "We're in this together, Ty." Several times a week, we all talk on the phone or email, or whatever, just sharing our days. Friday, Dana had a rough morning-- full of sadness and hard thoughts, unable to sleep the night before-- and emailed me to "share it with me". My heart broke for her... Indeed, our hearts break TOGETHER every day... sharing each other's burden. Sharing the SAME burden. (What a beautiful testimony to the Body of Christ, and a Christian family, no?) (Reminds me to pray for TJ's future wife and family...) Anyway, I had one of those mornings myself, this morning, before Dana even hit the road and bobbed and weaved and waded her way through the flooded route from Wheaton to Bolingbrook.

I haven't been dreaming much, lately. Sleep is simply respite, for the most part. When I do dream, Leslie is often there with me, playing a roll in my dreams just as she would have before. And I'm always sad when I wake up, to "lose her all over again", but it's typically a pretty peacful experience, knowing she's whole again, (indeed, more "whole" than ever!) and knowing that "we're doing just fine" here-- God is providing. But last night-- or early this morning, rather-- I truly believe I was "attacked by the enemy" in my dreams. As a Christian, I typically don't like to give Satan credit for much of anything. Why even acknowledge him? He'd just relish in that. My "take", if you will, is that it's kind of like standing naked on the beach and cursing the sun for your sunburn. Bad stuff happens. It's part of "The Fall of Adam". "The Curse". Yes, it's Satan. But it's also "just life". So wear your sunscreen and try to enjoy the beach. Or shut up and go inside. But stop staring at the sun and shaking your fists. All you're doing is letting it burn you more, and allowing it to blind your eyes to the beauty around you, on top of it all.

Anyway, forgive my tangent, but in the wee hours this morning, plain and simple, I was "attacked"... I don't want to go into details, because they're quite disturbing, and very dis-jointed... I'm not sure I could even describe them if I tried. But in the wake of the dream, I woke up in the dark, feeling scared for Leslie. Feeling I had abandoned her. Feeling no peace about her "victory". Feeling she was still stuck there-- suffering, dying, and it was somehow my responsibility... my fault. My mind still wasn't fully awake, so I just stared at the twilight coming in through the blinds for I-don't-know-how-long, turning these thoughts and trying to piece together the details of the dream that woke me-- trying to make sense of it. It finally dawned on me (or the Spirit had had enough and decided to whisper some peace, or whatever), that the dream was a LIE. It was simply not of God. The very ambiance of the scenes as they echoed through my mind were dark, cold, full of fear for Leslie, and not love for her. At one point of the dream, she even got up from her bed of suffering and tried to hug me... and I tried to hug her back and tell her "I love you", but physically could not... something was preventing me from wrapping my arms around her. Like I said... it was all just a LIE.

After wrestling with it all for awhile (I don't know how long, it was, really), there was no chance of going back to sleep. I decided to just get up, do some dishes, some laundry, and take a shower and start the day. In the shower, I prayed, as I typically do. I was frustrated as I confessed my weakness to God, that such a stupid "flaming arrow" of a lie could burn so deeply like that. I asked Him to search me and show me what sin I'm holding onto that allows evil such a "foot-hold" into my subconscious. And then, finally, I just gave (or re-gave) my life-- my day, my heart, my mind, my dreams-- to Him. I asked for Him to pour His wisdom, discernment, and grace into me, once again. Maybe it was the hot water pouring over my head and down my back... or maybe it was the Holy Spirit soothing my soul, in an immediate answer to prayer... I tend to believe it was both. But before I'd finished shaving, that "senseless peace" had returned to me. I smiled at God's goodness. At Leslie's whole-ness and completion today. And marveled at His provision and grace, once again. (Oh, and I got the mess in the kitchen taken care of before Dana arrived, too! "All things work together for good...") :)

So yes, overall, I'm daily amazed at how "well" things are going. There are tears, still, and sad moments. I miss Leslie. But TJ and I seem to be settling into this new "routine". I'm even enjoying my life. The doubt and guilt I wrestled with, in consideration of this fact, last week seem to have been covered, again, by the grace of Christ. I just hadn't expected to feel this "well" this soon. But instead of letting myself get frustrated about it, or question myself about it, I'm just "turning it back to Him in praise", as I've sung in that song, so many times. Why is it that we sometimes tend to feel guilty for our blessings? Of COURSE, we don't "deserve" them! That's why they're called "blessings" and not "rewards" or "wages". Again... GRACE! Hallelujah! This morning... this week... this LIFE... my burden is again lifted. In its place, blessings of peace. Certainly, there will be worse days and weeks to come, as this "grieving" thing comes in waves, they tell me. But when the next one hits, God will provide another board. I'll grab it and ride that wave back to shore, then as well. The salt will burn my open wounds... the fear of falling... but, OH! The THRILL of the ride!

p.s. TJ got sick this weekend. I mention it, because it is one thing I had really stressed about, imagining what it would be like once Leslie wasn't around to take care of us both, when one of us got sick. He "puketed" all morning on Saturday, which kept us home from our weekend travel plans-- which turned out to be quite a blessing. He's such a good boy when he's sick-- not whiney, just sleepy and cuddly. It's the only time he will actually SIT and watch a DVD all the way through. And the virus was actually pretty short-lived. He woke up Sunday morning back at 100%, and we went to Church together. And we had a very restful, quiet, weekend at home together. God is good. ALL the time.

Smiling at an old memory...

2008-09-13T00:01:00.003-05:00

8 years ago. A week-night. Not too far from where I sit and type in this moment. A twenty-something man was filled with a flood of new emotions, balanced with a calm insight, that drew him to his keyboard. He started typing a letter to the woman who would turn out to live to be (and die as) his wife.

(I'm racking my brain to remember if she ever read this... I believe she did... but I can't say for sure. Either way, I know she died knowing the truth this note encapsulates. I found this tonight in an old archive, looking for a different file. It made me smile...)

------------

Leslie-

I’m not sure if it’s isolation or clarity that drives me to write tonight. It’s probably a whole lot of both. I’m in Chicago on business, it’s 9 pm here in the hotel, and we just talked for about a half-hour, although it never seems as long as it really is when we talk. Sometimes people happen into your life with whom conversation is so natural and effortless that time is impotent. Hours are seconds and days are years. So it has been for me in the past several weeks with you.

Perhaps I should present my point first and spend the rest of this timeless evening, and evenings like this which are sure to come, attempting to describe to you—and to myself—the thoughts and emotions that go into such a letter as this. Perhaps such thoughts and emotions will prove one day to be foolish, in which case I hope to display some timely wisdom in deciding whether to ever let your eyes find these words. Regardless, the combined isolation and clarity of this night and this week drive my fingers to write.

My point is this: Everything I know of you is truly good. Beautiful. Everything I see in you is of God. A passion inside of me has been stirred, and I’m not sure what exactly it longs for, other than to experience you for another timeless hour. I want nothing more than to know you more than I do now, all the while being content and taking joy in what little of you I do already know.

What do I really know of you? Let me first start by saying that yes, since the first day I knew you—since that afternoon we sat by the lake and studied for the pending psychology exam—I have always found you to be a very attractive girl. I have tried to decide what feature it is that grabs my attention, and I’m sure it is your eyes. They have a certain beauty that I can’t my mind can’t quite grasp. They come alive when you talk. I remember running through a garden sprinkler in the yard when I was a boy. The summer sun would paint rainbows in the mist always just in front of me. I would run in circles trying to reach out and touch those little miracles, but their beauty was just always out of my grasp. So it is with your eyes.

But I’ve known your outward beauty for years. What is it that I’ve learned of you in these past weeks that has stirred this passion for you? You have a quiet but somehow passionate joy about you. You are a paradox to me, in this regard. You admit openly that you are somewhat of an introvert, but still your joy and life are impossible to disregard. In fact, they are contagious. You make me laugh. I make you laugh. We make us laugh. It’s not the silly kind of nonsensical laughter that always makes me feel foolish for ever having uttered as much as a giggle. It’s a freeing laugh. It’s as though I’d forgotten what laughter was until those moments when you draw it out of me.

I admire—nearly to the point of envy—your understanding and discernment. You never miss a thing. You read people and situations so well, and put thoughts into such wonderfully understandable words. You are a phenomenal listener and communicator.

Most of all, your pursuit of God in your every breath and heartbeat are inspirational. You’ve been an amazing encouragement to me over the past month or so, without your slightest awareness of the fact. Your very way of being encourages me to draw closer to God, growing a deeper desire to know Him more. You are one of the wisest people I know. And everything you do is permeated by this adorable humility that could only come as a result of a life of intense communion with the One Living God who has courted your soul since its creation.

I’ve been writing about the beauty I see in you for forty-five minutes, and I feel as though I haven’t even started. I guess what I’m trying to say through all of this is… What is it I am trying to say? What else is there to say except that I love every second I’m with you, whether it is spent in deep and spiritual conversation, nonsensical laughter, or just sharing a blanket, a bowl of popcorn, and a movie? I’m not sure when it started, but lately I’ve been noticing that this time of night regularly brings you into my thoughts and prayers. What does all that mean? What am I to do with it? Or a more difficult question: What difference would it make to your life or mine if you knew all of this?

I guess I’ll sleep on it.