My Grace is Enough For You

A wonderful friend sent me this devotion.  http://www.girlfriendsingod.com/category/devotions/
I had become jaded through suffering. And I was  up...It all begins with.
2 Corinthians 12: 7-
 "So that I would not become too proud of the wonderful things that were shown to me, a painful physical problem was given to me. I begged the Lord three times to take this problem away from me.But he said to me, 'My grace is enough for you.'"

Paul was not sinning by asking God to remove his affliction. Paul may not have understood what God was doing, but he chose to accept it because he knew God's heart. Paul may not have understood God's process but he trusted God.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "But he said to me, 'My grace is enough for you. When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you.' So I am very happy to brag about my weaknesses. Then Christ's power can live in me."


God was sending Paul a message of hope. It is important to note the tense of the verb in this verse, "But he said to me" can be translated "He (God) has once-for-all said to me." It is an eternal promise.

The story is told of a business man who was selling warehouse property that had been empty for months. Since vandals had damaged the doors, smashed the windows and left garbage, the building needed expensive repairs. As the owner showed a prospective buyer the property, he was quick to explain that he would make any repairs needed. The buyer said, "Forget the repairs. When I buy this place, I'm going to build something completely different. I don't want the building - just the site." God does want our bodies, he wants what is inside: (How I taught my children nieces and nephews)

God's grace turns defeat into victory, tragedy into triumph and weakness into strength by providing real power over circumstances. People without Christ can muster up enough courage and human strength to get through a trial. God will not only enable us to survive the hard times, He wants us to thrive in and because of them. Paul used his pain and chose to make that pit work for him - and God's power was unleashed in Paul's life.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "I am very happy to brag about my weaknesses. Then Christ's power can live in me." (that's my excuse :-)
Joy is not an earthly treasure but a heavenly gift from our loving Father who is committed to the joy of His children. I am convinced that God entrusts the greatest trials to those who will respond to them in the right way. Some of the most joyful people I know have suffered the most because they have learned not to live on explanations but on promises - the promises of God.

I love the story of the little girl who misquoted her favorite Bible verse, "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son so that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have ever-laughing life." Jesus wants to give us a life of joy, pits and all. We need to remember that joy is the deeply-rooted confidence that God is in control and that our inner attitudes do not have to reflect our outer circumstances. We can find joy in the pit. Grandma had her struggles and her pain, but found joy. Oh how she laughed, and picked on us in a way we each deserved :-)... With the love of of our Grandmother
Since my brothers have addressed the common theme I have struggled with since I watched Grandma pass into this world into the next: I must read to you something for myself, for my brothers, who have always held me up and I have in no doubt there they learn to do this:
There is a book about a man who was imprisoned by the Nazis in World War II because he was a Jew. His wife, children and parents were killed in the Holocaust. As the Gestapo stripped away his clothes and cut off his wedding band, Victor said to himself, "You can take away my family and destroy everything I possess, but there is one thing that no person can ever take from me - my freedom to choose how I react to what happens to me." So today I chose to celebrate how much time I was able to spend with Grandma from Jan. 24, 1980 to April 3rd, 2013. Daniel, you are right,  I chose to feel blessed, my anger was misplaced sadness.  Jim, you taught me to look at Grandma for what she was to US three, but to put it into two valuable words- I feel thankful for everything she did for us three. So I thank you for remembering who we are and why we are.

Turn Around- Matt Maher

Young man on the side of the road
Lost and beat up with no where to go
Smells like a hangover from days ago
He does what he can to survive

Single mom with a dead end job
Ninety hour week just to keep what she's got
With the bills that add up and down she's caught
She does what she can to survive

Well, let me say
That love won't take away the pain
But don't be afraid
'Cause it will never walk away

(Chorus)
If yo u're scared that you don't matter
If you're lost and need to be found
If you're looking for a Savior
All you gotta do is turn around

Some turn to a bottle
Some turn to a drug
Some turn to another's arms
But it seems like it's never enough

Well I won't say, that you will ever fail again
But there is grace
To wash away your every sin

Chorus
No one listens to you anymore
And your heart has broken down
You don't need to move
Love has come to you
All you gotta do is turn around
All you gotta do is turn around
Turn around

You don't have to take the broken road
You can turn around and come back home
(X3)

Chorus
If yo u're scared that you don't matter
If you're lost and need to be found
If you're looking for a Savior
All you gotta do is turn around

No one listens to you anymore
And your heart has broken down
You don't need to move
Love has come to you
All you gotta do is turn around
All you gotta do is turn around

Someday the bird will break through the screen and be free!

Someday that bird will break through the screen and be free... (my mind pauses for a moment and I switch back to the inner turmoil I so often struggle with....); and then my realistic and scarred heart slips through and whispers with tears (as if hearts could cry) "it's so sad that once he does break through this unattainable goal he will only hit the glass window with a painful halt to his dreams."
We have this little bird who flies underneath our deck over hang to fly into our dirtiest window of the entire house almost daily. I don't understand his appeal or if it is even him each time. Maybe there is a little birdy group filled with birdy bullies telling each one that behind that dirty window lies the most beautiful place they have ever seen with as many berries and worms as could fill his gullet. So each time this little naive birdy decides to go against all that his mother has told him, and all that his father has drilled into his tiny birdy brain. All the stories of his ancestors and "the great window crashing". Oh how many family and friends he had lost by such an unobtainable dream. The humans he heard laughing on the other side of the window as his family tried to reach the other side became unbearable. The humans thought the birds were ignorant to the fact that the window was not the same as the clear air they had seconds before been soaring through. They knew what was coming but they honestly thought they could make it. They had a belief, no matter if others shared that belief or not- no matter the cost- they had a belief.
Who can say your goal is unobtainable? If it harms others, is illegal, or could potentially kill you- by all means you should avoid it; but who really is to say your goal is unobtainable? And are you not better for having tried and failed than to never have tired at all... ( somewhat like that quote: "To love and lost is much better than to never have loved at all."
As a mother I often forget my children are like that tiny little bird, but on a different scale. They are not smashing their bodies full speed into windows, yet, they have what I consider to be dangerous and unobtainable goals. My heart wrenches at the look of devastation on Grant's face when I tell him that he can't build a table with a few pieces of wood and about 12 nails....is well, a moment I wish I could go back in time to be six again and have the fire I see in his eyes. Nothing would have stopped me either. Not to mention poor Grant couldn't find the hammer so he was going to use an old wrench to smash the nails into his boards. He begged if I just gave him a chance he would show me. He could do it!
I was distracted by his little brother who had just tied a "knot" around the swing set and yelling from across the yard: "Look at me Mom! "You don't need to make da tire wing (tire swing) I made a rope wing (swing)- SEE!" I had been tying knots and securing rope that afternoon and if he isn't a genius there is no way his rope was going to hold- so I thought.... I ran across the yard yelling "get down before you break something!" I mean this child was up high...way too high!  It never broke. When I got there I gave it a try and feeling a bit closer to the ground than Jake was- I pulled all of my weight off the ground and placed all dependence on my four year olds knot tying ability. It worked. I swung on it for a long time and when I was done I yelled to Grant "come and see this!" He said, "hold on!" I turned around to see that Grant had three pieces of wood nailed together and it was obviously on it's way to being a table. It was at that very moment this late summer/ early fall evening that I realized my sons smashed through the screen and the window and made it through the other side, even though I was weary of their ability to make it safely. Every time I allow them to have the chance to obtain confidence on their own, I am allowing them to break on through the impossibles. So, little birdy- I'm not laughing at you anymore...may God give you strength to make it through! After all, everyone (and creature) deserves to feel as if they have a goal or a purpose.
~Happy Breaking thru those windows to your dreams!
  Joanna

Ride The Elephant

                                               
Life is hard boys. Really hard. No one really talks about the hard stuff- it is perceived in this society as complaining or weakness, especially when it comes from boys. I, as your mother, will never feel that sharing your feelings shows a lack of masculinity, weakness and in most cases I won't see it as a form of complaining. It is quite the opposite my loves- I will feel as if you have the whole piece of the puzzle that this complication of our life seems to be. My point has a direction this time- as I hope you are able to follow most of them.
I am going to share genuine feelings that I simply cannot shake. The simple fact that I shared that statement would send some into a tizzy. We will be a different folk. We will have sympathy, empathy, love, compassion, and we won't forget what value lies in the importance of shaking loose these feelings and not trying to stuff them deep inside.
I have been hearing myself say lately. "It all seems so simple to me- the shortest distance between two points is in a straight line- so why don't we just stop avoiding this issue right now and deal with it?" Sometimes I laugh as I visualized the saying "shove it under the rug" meaning to hide something that bothers us or embarrasses us in order to avoid it all-together. I laugh because I see those things as the so called "elephants in the room" which means something so big and abnormal you can't ignore it.
Picture this: You are in a room simply trying to go about your normal day or have a conversation when all of the sudden an elephant walks into the room! The elephant in my story is of course the problem that needs to be dealt with. Well, there are a few options. Some people would ignore it- (or at least pretend they couldn't see it so they wouldn't have to deal with it.) Some people would run screaming from the room because well- an elephant is one huge problem when it inside of a room. I suppose one could fear being crushed by it. Some would grab the rug in the room and try desperately to shove that elephant under the rug. You sit and watch as a giant lumpy and noisy elephant squirms around under the rug and think to yourself- why didn't anyone just talk about the problem that there was an elephant in the room and it needed to be removed? So you have a choice. You could walk away knowing that if you go back that elephant very well may be underneath that rug every single time you walk into that room or you could whip that rug off of that elephant, tell everyone there: "There is an elephant in this living room! What should we do to get rid of it?" In real life this would be like bringing up a subject that nobody wants to talk about that needs to be talked about. So there will be some people who refuse to help solve the problem, some people will claim there is no elephant and you may for one moment feel as if you could be crazy, if it hadn't been for the one person who ran screaming from the room!

                                                   

You know the problem is there and you think to yourself "we need to solve this". As everyone looks at you to make the next move; you decide to remove the elephant the only way that seems appealing to you...you whip that carpet right off of that poor elephant, climb up on top of it and ride it right out of the room. In real life this would mean: the problem may not be yours but you know that the only way out of the problem is to walk it right out of the room. You can bring it up, let them know you know it is there, calm those who are scared and propose ideas for those who want to be involved in solving the problem. Give them opportunity to rise to the occasion. When all else fails, I suggest riding that elephant right out of that room and solving the issue right then and there. Did you go around the issue and ignore it? No. Did you address the issue directly and move straight through it? Yes. And which in life do you think would provide the best results in the end? I say elephant riding all the way boys! Don't assume however that everyone will be happy with your choice, but understand that it very well may be the healthiest, safest and most productive manor in which one could ever solve the age old issue of the elephant in the room (or under the rug!)

May you always have the courage to ride the elephant even when I may have not always shown you how to do it. I will work harder at this task Grant and Jake because a healthy family is one that is open and one that keeps the elephants out of the house and definitely not hidden under the rugs :-)
Love Always,
Mom

"Like a Jungle Paradise"

My Mom wrote this today and I find it is perfect for this blog. I am going to sign her on as another author so she can post directly to my page. I will start signing my name to the posts I write and she can do the same for her posts. Due to my new job I miss many of these moments and Mom is wonderful at catching those wonderful little magical pieces of life. She grabs them and squeezes them for all the beauties we were really meant to be witnessing. Life really is simple. We just make it so stinking complicated. ~Jo

The other day I was babysitting my 2 grandsons, Grant 6 and Jake almost 4, at their new home in the country. My daughter and son-in-law have been working on getting this home built for almost 2 years. This location is their dream location....on the farm where her grandfather was raised. This is the location where she remembers visiting her Great Grandma ( a very sweet and special lady) and going to the timber. The timber has always been  a place of relaxation and fun for us. Whether it was hiking the trails that her Grandpa (my father-in-law) kept groomed or cooking out at the camp site, we would always enjoy the rest from our busy lifestyle. Just as important as all these memories she had was the opportunity to give her boys the joys and experiences of living in the country. If you have been raised on a farm like all of our family, you understand what this means. It is impossible to explain to anyone that does not feel this passion for such things. Living in town is a form of torment for those with the "country spirit". Luckily, even though her husband was born and raised in town, he has an appreciation for the timber and outdoors, so falling in love with the location which is outside his home town didn't take long. Not only is this property bordered by farm land and Grandpa's timber, but also by a few memories from Grandpa's childhood, such as the concrete slab from the homestead back porch, the barn, the old garage, and some pine trees that Grandpa planted as his high school FFA project as a windbreak more than 65 years ago. (These trees are an important part of this story.) Unfortunately this has been an extremely wet year and 3" or more rains have become all too frequent....not to mention lightning and wind. Recently, I was staying there one night when one of those storms hit. First the power was knocked out during the bad storm, but then the winds grew so strong that we decided to take the children to the basement. As we headed down, my daughter mentioned noticing that it looked like a tree went down in the yard as the lightning lit the sky. Sure enough, the next morning when I went to go to town to run some errands with the boys, Grant noticed a tree fallen at the corner of the driveway. I asked if he was sure and he indicated, "Yes Grandma, I can see the roots sticking up in the air." While it was a large blue spruce, at least it wasn't one of Grandpa's trees. But when returning from town, I noticed that where Grandpa's pines had stood behind the house, 2 now lay down with the roots out of the ground. All lying horizontal on what was now a marsh like area. The trees had seemed fine and solid enough earlier this spring when my son had removed one that had died. But now the ground was so saturated that the shallower roots of these evergreen trees could not stand the winds. You could only go near the trees with boots there had been so much rain. Finally after a few more rains followed by a few sunny days, we could venture out to see the trees. So that is where Grant, Jake and I ventured to the other day. Being a farm girl myself, I couldn't wait to put my boots on and tromp through there to see what wonders were hidden as much as the boys. I wondered around the trees to make sure it looked solid enough for climbing on...and by then the boys had found a way to climb onto the trunk and start adventuring through the tree branches. The conversation goes something like this: "Wow, this is like a jungle" exclaims Grant with excitement in his voice. "Yeah, a jungle," Jake agrees. A multitude of happy squeals and laughter continues as they slowly progress up the length of the tree. "This is like paradise," proclaims Grant. "Yeah, like a jungle paradise," mimics Jake. Earlier that same day, Grant had begged me to take them out to the timber on the ATV that their "Dad's Dad" had in the barn. I explained that I would need permission to use this vehicle, so maybe another day. But Grant, relentless in his sense of adventure, begged for me to let him walk to the timber...he assured me he knew the path. (I am sure this is foreshadowing of stories still to come). I knew in my heart that this is what my daughter had anticipated for her boys to share in the wonder of the adventures we had experienced in all of our childhoods. What fun they will have...what memories they will build. This surely would make all the headaches of building this house seem worthwhile. At the moment that Grant declared this "paradise" I knew it was true....this was his paradise. - Written By (Grandma) Kathy

The Dawn Before the Morning

I think about the words "morning" and "mourning"....and for me "morning" is a new day; while "mourning" is "the dawn before the morning". It's aways been odd to me when I hear the word morning; I hear my Mother's voice on those rough mornings during my junior year of high school when I hated school every day. I have always been a morning person but in rough times you can always tell when I am struggling by how I wake up. My mother would come in on rough mornings, and as I can only imagine now, she was most surely dreading the coming task at hand. Teenagers are difficult. Girls are worse. She called me her self raising child- except for during a brief time when I was 14 and another when I was being bullied when I was as a junior in high school. She didn't need to tell me to do my homework, go to bed, respect adults, be on time, etc., I just did. God forbid I would ever upset anyone or fall from the "perfect expectations" I made for myself in my head. Punishment really isn't necessary for me- I guarantee I am already punishing myself in some form for my "imperfections". A look of disappointment- worse than any punishment for me. I still always forget that when I wake in the morning it will be a new day, and today is a gift from God. I'm in need of a reminder that on the other side of that sunrise is forgiveness and a new day, healing, peace, ease in suffering, and another chance.
Back when I was a junior in high school she would open the door and say these words every morning if she could tell I wasn't going to be getting myself up and ready on my own. What I remember most is the conviction of tone from Mom. She never let my attitude change her belief that what she would say was going to be the way she had lived and felt in her life ever since she had overcome her own personal wars. Her words were as follows: "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!" then as the pillow was flying at her she would say right on cue with cheer and a bit of silliness mixed with pure antagonism-"Besides- the sun is singing and the birds are shining!" She has always been like that. When I put the boys to bed I never say "Don't let the bed bugs bite" I say:"Don't bite the bugs!" No pillows at my head- just giggles. Lucky me- unlucky Mom- but I don't think she has ever seen it that way. You see, Mom has always made it very clear that the morning was new- the sunrise was beautiful and the sunsets- oh the sunsets- we loved the sunsets (we still watch them together when we can). She taught me to see symbolism in everything. If the sun is setting in the sky (pause and enjoy the beauty and do not grieve the loss of the day- know that it will come up tomorrow).
I couldn't quite write about the funeral after writing about the morning of the day that we attended Rev. Workman's funeral. This is why I left the last entry with a simple: to be continued... In order to write on I have to write this entry. Even though I feel a need to throw a pillow at Mom for some odd reason. I hear her words in my head and feel like getting out of bed "in the morning of our mourning". I have to write through it and not around it in order to heal. I believe I told Grant the afternoon we attended the funeral that we have to go through tough stuff in life -no matter how much we want to pretend it didn't happen. I told him that even when he moves to Africa (he says he plans on living in Africa because his animal encyclopedia shows that he can find all of the creatures he wants to see in Africa.....) he can't just ignore the sad stuff- he has to go through it- we can't just "walk around it". I asked him if I could help him with any questions he had after church when we came home and he was sitting on the couch just staring with such a sad look in his big beautiful eyes.
He said he wanted to go to the funeral. I called my sister in law and I think I also talked to my best friend about it that day as well but I can't remember. I know I talked to Dan. I asked Dan if he would go with me. I wanted him there with me for purely selfish reasons. I needed my family. I do believe I asked my sister-in-law, Kara, about my concerns with Grant going to the funeral. I wouldn't have felt so hesitant if he hadn't been showing so much terrible grief. I wasn't sure what to do. He is incredibly sensitive to emotion, but not just his own, more so to the emotions of those around him. I know he "wanted to see what Steve looked like now", so that made me think he needed closure, but felt that since the casket would be closed he wouldn't get the kind of closure he really wanted. He is old enough and in times of great need he knows when it is time to take things seriously- so I explained once again, there would be many people crying, the church would be completely filled, (more than we had ever seen it), and Mommy may also cry a whole lot. He may feel like there are too many people around him or he may feel happy that so many people cared about Steve. It may bother him that Steve will be in a casket and he will not know what it looks like to be "not alive". We talked about how Steve wasn't inside the casket and that it was just his body. We have had many conversations before about the body being just like a car- it takes us where we need to go, we have to take care of it and keep it filled up with gas (food and water), but what is really important is the stuff inside. The stuff inside our bodies are the most important, (just like the stuff that is important inside our vehicles), it is our love, our thoughts, our feelings, and the part that believes in God,.....the part that makes us cry when we are sad and the part that makes us laugh when something is funny,......the part that makes our hearts hurt when people we love or care about die;- it is called our "soul" and that is the "important stuff" our bodies carry around. When we die that is the part that goes to to heaven...(I didn't go into the complexities of who goes to heaven- I don't know if I will ever do that b/c I struggle with that anyway and I hope he someday will simply come to his own conclusion that brings him his own peace.)
I'm not sure if the universe simply wanted us to not take the boys to the funeral or if it was a random mistake on our part that we thought we had asked Ted's parents to watch Jake and maybe Grant so that we could go to the funeral. We called his parents house up to the very last minute and we were unable to reach them so we simply settled on the unpleasant idea that we might have a wild 3 year old to restrain and a bawling 6 year old. There was one....ONE place left in the church balcony so we took it. Grant climbed onto my lap which is something he hasn't done in public for quite some time. Ted finally became so frustrated with Jake's interrupting yet normal 3 year old behavior he took him outside. Honestly I am sure Jake knew what was going on in a small way. He knew it was about the minister and he knew it was sad- so he acted out. It makes perfect sense to me because Jake often draws the attention away from things that are important with certain antics. I believe it is a coping skill he has developed. During the funeral Grant's eyes continually rained tears down his sweet little face. Since I had never seen my little boy's heart hurt like this I began to cry as well. I just kept rocking him and catching his tears with my arm just as they fell off of his face. He clung to me and we held on to each other tightly as if we secretly were reminding each other that we never want to have to live without the other. I squeezed his leg three times and paused and waited for what I knew would follow, he reached over to my hand and squeezed it three times as well...this is how we say, "I love you" without words. When the funeral was over Grant wanted to know if he could touch the casket. I told him that we could go down to look at the flowers, his picture and robe and if he wanted to touch the casket I would stand right with him and hold his hand. So we worked our way back downstairs and admired the flowers. He pointed at a flower arrangement shaped like a heart and had a ribbon across it and he said to me, "Mommy- that's says Daddy on it!" I told him that those were the flowers that Natalie had picked out for her Daddy. You could see in Grant's eyes that at that very moment was the point it all clicked. If I was in his brain this is what I would have heard: "Natalie's Daddy had died. My Daddy didn't die. I can't imagine loosing my Daddy. I feel so bad for Natalie. Where's Daddy!" At that moment Grant had begun to feverishly look about himself to find his Dad. His Dad appeared to him and he calmed down. He kept walking along the side of the casket staring with wide eyes- yet did not touch it. He walked over to Steve's picture and when he looked at that picture he started to cry pretty hard. I got on my knees and hugged him. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him or if he had any questions. He asked if he could touch the casket and I said yes, he walked up to it, but he did not actually touch the casket. I told him that when he was ready we were going join everyone downstairs at the meal. He was ready so we joined them downstairs and I have never seem him so quiet and reserved for such a long period of time before in my entire life. When everyone else was talking, some laughing and sharing their own conversations it seemed as if his mind was still on Steve or Natalie or simply the enormity of death itself. Grant remained this way for a couple of days but every day he showed improvement. One night he asked me if I was going to die when he was little. I told him-"Oh honey- I do everything in my power to protect myself, Daddy, you and Jake from harm....Not if I have anything to say about it!!!" He didn't like my answer. I didn't like my answer. It is just that I used to make Grandpa promise me he would never die and he always told me "Honey I won't live forever and someday I will die and you will have to prepare yourself for that so don't make me make a promise that simply would be a lie." I hated hearing that truth, but I can't get myself to ever say those words to my kids- no matter how old they get. There is no easy way around it because in all honesty- no child should ever see their parent(s) die; and no parent should experience the pain of outliving their child. If it wasn't for the hope and faith I have in heaven I couldn't deal with death at all. But, I do honestly believe we will be seeing them again when it is our time. Until then I think they pop into and out of our dreams, and act as our guardian angels when we are at the lowest of all the valley's in life.

"HE ISN'T INSIDE MY HEART! WHERE IS HE!"

I opened the car door with absolutely no plan in mind for what I would teach this morning during Sunday School. There are those days when all other lessons just go out the door and you simply let the children guide you. After being through such a terrible loss the children didn't have the ability to grasp the enormity of what was going on around them today.
Like every Sunday I opened Jake's car door and unbuckled him and said to him, "wait for your brother Jake, you need to hold his hand in the parking lot." On the way to church this morning the boys were quite hyper as usual and I wanted them to respect those in the church who were mourning in their own ways. I know there is no real way to explain this to a 6 and 3 year old, but I tried my best: "Boys, you must understand that today you may see adults and other younger kids crying because they are sad. They may need to cry and church is a very safe place to talk about these feelings we have about missing Steve. (Rev. Workman). It is a safe place to ask questions about him or dying and heaven. Remember how Mommy always says- you don't get to choose your family- but you stick with them and you help them through everything they need?" Grant replied, "yes." I continued: " Well when you belong to a church you belong to another family. Did you know you had that many families?" Grant then asked right away- just as we were pulling into the parking lot- "how can we go in there if Steve isn't going to be there anymore?" I pulled into the parking spot as I said to both boys, "Rev. Steve will not be here anymore on earth- but we will see him in heaven again someday. He also left us with a minister to fill in until we found another one and just because he isn't where we can see him doesn't mean that he doesn't live in your heart." Jake said, "HE ISN'T INSIDE MY HEART! WHERE IS HE?!" As Jake got out of the car he squat down onto the ground and started to whimper and I gently said, "Honey, Steve has gone to live and sing and dance with the angels in heaven...." I didn't know what to say. He laid down on the cement and cried "I don't wanna go in there- he isn't with the angles- he doesn't get inside my heart!" I wanted to lay down with him and cry also. Then Grant, who has been taking this whole experience the worst (visually) says to us- (with a forced bright and cheerful smile on his face-) "but Jake, We get to see him again- just not for a really long time. It isn't forever, just until we go to heaven!" Since Jake is three and quite easily encouraged by Grant he stood right up, held Grant's hand and into the church they walked hand in hand, yet almost arm in arm. I caught a glimpse of Grant's face as he thought nobody was looking and a tear ran down his face. I think my sweetheart just wanted us to feel like we could do it. I followed behind and wanted to yell out really loud as if I needed a confession before entering this church today: ( I kept it inside for the boys). If I could have I would have screamed "God forgive me for the way I disagreed with the Workman's I had no idea the amount of pain and suffering they must have been enduring behind the scene. I said things I should have never said- Yet- I must deal with that myself. I reap what I sow." I know Rev. Workman was a kind hearted and loving man- but I always knew there was hurting inside of his heart and body. The thing about people is that they think that expressing their suffering will cause some sort of grief that is more intense than what they are already enduring. I have found that some of my grief has united me with many who have endured the same sufferings and grief. I recently discovered that someone I never could understand or tolerate has dealt with a debilitating disease ever since I have known this person. I can't for the life of me figure out why nobody ever simply says I am suffering from (fill in the blank), I know I have done (A,B &C) but please show me mercy and grace and understand that I never asked for such a horrible affliction. I am exceedingly forgiving to people with disease in which they need no other judgement for... Mental, Emotional, Physical....none of it matters, but how do you expect me to understand or to not expect you to live up to your responsibilities when I do not know otherwise? I love that song by John Meyer called "Say What You Need to Say". I feel I live most of my life trying to get people to say what they need to say. I do it by putting myself out there- exposing my flaws and human conditions that aren't always appealing.
I am personally blessed to know that I felt as if there was a healing that had taken place the Sunday after Superbowl Sunday at church. His sermon was one of those sermons that make you feel it inside the core of your soul. When that happens I am too moved to leave my thank you unsaid (no matter who said it!) So I simply waited until everyone else was done talking to him after church and I hugged him so hard for more than a "thank you for the sermon"- although that is basically what I told him. I told him his sermon moved me like no other had for a very long time and I could tell it came directly from his heart. I told him I was sorry for any pain I had caused him. He chuckled and said,"I'm excited to hear you have joined Jan Rockwell on the Education Committee and I just know good things are coming- I can feel it." I think that was the last conversation I ever got to have with him. My guilt overwhelmed me at one point so much after his death- I could barely breath. It occurred to me that my judgement of people, things and issues has gotten out of control. I never let myself admit that I just may very well be wrong about issues I have perceived and that well....I am not the ultimate judge, I never have been and I never will be.
On the morning of the funeral and after we had gotten Jake into the church, I started Sunday School by asking how the boys were feeling today. I asked if they knew what was different about this Sunday that wasn't like any other Sunday we had ever had.... They were quiet and Grant said "the minister died". I paused and we prayed for a moment and I said "I have lots of feelings and sometimes I just don't have the right words for them. Can you help me by telling me how you feel? Do you have words for how you feel? I know I want to cry"... (because I was welling up with tears- I just wanted to get them to understand that they could talk about it and they could be in a safe place). I was very clear that if they didn't want to talk about it they didn't have to, I remember asking if it were okay if we spent our time in Sunday School remembering Steve and they all shook their heads "okay". They all did so well I wish you could have heard their responses. I made sure to stick in my token "Is it okay to cry when we feel sad?" question. I waited for an answer but didn't need one- they all three sat there with tears welling up in their eyes. So I said, "Crying when someone you care about has died is normal, crying when you are sad is normal. Remember when we cry it helps us get all that sad and mad out. I asked them if they remembered the sir pops-a-lot and miss-hiss-a-bit children's sermon I had given. They remembered.
(For those of you who don't know what I am speaking of- it addressed the concept that holding our emotions inside and not taking our worries to God or any other safe place caused us to "POP" and I had a red balloon with a face on it that I blew air into every time the kids gave me any emotion. Sir Pops-A-Lot couldn't keep holding all of the emotions and he eventually popped echoing loudly inside of the church. Miss-Hiss-A-Bit was a yellow balloon with a face on it as well. She was also blown up when she put her emotions in. But when she got fuller than she would like she let out the air. Sometimes it made a funny noise (I pulled the balloon tight and let air out as it hissed/squealled the air(feelings) out, then I let more feelings in and had her make short bursts of air (WHOOFFS) when I let go of the opening for a split second at a time. Finally I showed a way we might also want to avoid- I filled her back up with the emotions but at one point I let her go and she flew wildly across and all over the congregation. She had lost control of her emotions. Even though she wasn't ruined like "Sir Pops-No-More", she was far from where she had started and stretched out/ worn out. So I taught them the importance of letting a little bit of that air out at a time even if it made a noise (crying)- By the way I actually came up with that idea when I was watching the boys blowing up balloons in the living room and I was so angry that day about a personal issue that I felt like popping when all of the sudden I heard the explosion of the balloon and the sadness from my son because that balloon was ruined forever. I wanted to change how much anger I held inside until I exploded. I was on my way to a "Sir-Pops-A-Lot" Moment, so I wrote that for my sons and it turned into a children's sermon.)
When they remembered the children's sermon Jake ran to the corner of the room and grabbed a balloon from my previous Sunday school lesson- (We made balloon hats)- and the other boys seemed to tear up again. So I let them know at that point we were going to have a safe room for crying, laughing, sharing, or any feelings they needed to share. We then cut some giant hearts out of red construction paper and I handed one to each of the boys. I told them I have lots of good memories of Steve or things I think he was very good at doing and things I remember he did for me. I shared three things and I told them to think about something like that for themselves. They were given decoration materials to decorate the hearts first while they thought of their words. When they were done decorating and writing their cards/ hearts I noticed they had all written Dear Rev. Steve or Dear Rev. Workman at the top of their hearts. They could have made them out to his wife or daughter, but they had something to say to him I guess. My personal favorites were "I loved your biggest smile! or "I will miss you!" After we were finished they went into the music room and the two oldest boys Griffin and Grant asked their music teacher if they could sing, "I've got peace like a river..." I was impressed and blown away. They still had tears in their eyes. Grant loves music and sometimes you can catch him singing around other people but most of the time he will only sing around me. He loves that song, I have been singing it to him since he was a baby.
Before our church service started their giant hearts were placed under his chair next to the pulpit where his robe hung off the back of the chair. During the children's sermon a book was read to the children called "The Fall of Freddie the Leaf: A Story of Life for All Ages" by Leo Buscalgia- and the woman who read it to the children did it better than I could have on my best day and her's was about loss to help the children. At one point during the children's sermon, Jake, who was sitting on Natalie's (the minister's daughter's lap) leaned back and said to her- loud enough I heard it in the balcony- "He isn't here anymore (while pointing to Steve's chair), he died." Natalie looked back at him and shook her head. To be Continued....

This day went on as the funeral was later that afternoon, but I have decided to turn it into a separate blog for the sake of the reader.