days of gratitude: {1} my faith in jesus.

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november has crept in, quiet and unassuming.  it was the other day when i heard someone say "i can't believe it's november already!" that i drew in a breath and thought "okay, lord.  here we go."  as the days pass by, i become more teary eyed and heavy-hearted.  ask anyone who has lost someone; grief is the most reliable "calendar" of all.  even when i'm unaware, my heart tells me what month it is.  i think back.  back to the hardest, most painful days i've ever lived.  i try to keep the memories at bay, but every once and a while...especially around this time of the year... they come flooding back.  i feel them again with such intensity, as if i were reliving it all.

a blessing and a curse of losing my dad in november is that every year upon the anniversary of his death, the world around me is focused on gratitude.  sometimes that makes me angry, if i'm being real honest.  i'll never forget thanksgiving almost two years ago, driving home from boston just hours after saying goodbye to my dad.  on a day our country was focused on giving thanks, i couldn't stop tears from flowing.  i was broken and hurting.  wounds so deep and raw and bleeding from saying goodbye to one of the people i loved most in the whole world.

but i suppose that much of life comes with a choice.  and due to my personal journey in gratitude over the past few years, god had been teaching me much--and continues to--on focusing my mind and attitude on a spirit of gratefulness.  and so in some ways, i'm glad that this dreadful time of grief happens for me in a month where our world is focused on giving thanks.  because no matter what month, what time of year we experience loss or devastation or pain, we still have an opportunity for gratitude.  regardless of our circumstances.

i'm not saying that gratitude is the magic wand to make all of our hurt disappear.  i'm not saying it takes away the pain of loss or that it makes everything okay.  it doesn't.  but it is a balm that can soothe our hurting souls.  it's a shift in our perspective, to be grateful.  it turns what we have into enough.  and that's where i feel blessed that november--the anniversary of my dad's going home to be with jesus--helps me fix my eyes on what i have in this life, while remembering and honoring the person i lost.

so this month on my blog, i will be recording my blessings.  i know this will not only help my heart as this month goes by, but it will honor my dad.  because he would've wanted me to celebrate, to live fully and to treasure what god has given me.

"the lord gave and the lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the lord."

(job 1:21)

today, i am thankful for my faith in jesus.  when i look back on the past two years and what he has brought me through, i am amazed at his strength and grace.  he promises us that when we are weak, he will be strong and i have found that to be so true.  in ways i've never known or experienced before.  when i think about why i continue to believe in god, the answer is so simple.  i didn't stop believing in god because he chose not to heal my dad... rather, i believe in him with greater conviction because he is the only way i've made it through such a painful time in my life.  he has not only carried me, but he's continually showed me more of who he is.  he's my rock, my anchor, my Father... and he never changes. to one who has lost, to the one whose life has been forever changed... that is true comfort.  he is the rock upon which my sinking feet can stand.  he is the one who holds my weary heart in his everlasting hands.

and for this, and only because of this, my heart can truly be thankful.  this month, and every month.  for it is through my faith in jesus that all other blessings flow.

eternally grateful, forever secured in the arms of my savior.

"he lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet upon a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.  he put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our god.  many will see and fear the lord and put their trust in him."

(psalm 40:2-3)

beginning again.

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fall has always been my favorite.  ever since i was a little girl.

i have these memories of playing outside until it was dark, bundled up for the crisp, fall air.  my name called from the backdoor told me it was time for supper, and the warmth of our house would melt away the chilled pink in my cheeks and nose.  i'd watch the leaves swirl about, pick painted pumpkins with my sister and stare at the arches of golden and scarlet trees lining the roadsides.

yes, fall has always been my favorite.

until two years ago, when i lost my dad.  seasons have a way of reminding us of times past.  the smells, the feel of the air.  they trigger our senses to remember.  and suddenly, crisp air and warm jackets, pumpkin lattes and leaves ablaze reminded me of unbearable pain.  of heart shattering loss.  of watching my father lay in a hospital bed for weeks, and eventually leave us forever.

my faith has surely sustained me through the past almost-two-years.  my dad was always my rock, but jesus has been lovingly showing me that he is truly the one who can hold me up.  it's amazing how two years can feel like one giant bad dream.  and yet, i find myself remembering often that it's reality, this life without my dad.  and even though the days and years march on, i remind myself that it's still okay to cry.

because i do.

i cry for the girls birthdays we celebrate without their bampy, for the empty seat at family gatherings, for the absence of my dad's hugs and his jovial laughter.  i cry for him missing nick's football games or when bella asks me who my daddy is.  i cry for not being able to hug him, talk to him, or tell him one last time just how much i love him, and just how blessed i was to be his daughter.

as much as the fall season triggers my grief and causes my tears to bubble to the surface, i am determined to enjoy it again.  why?  because i am not without hope.  death is not the end.  and i forever hear my father's words reminding us that he lived a good, full life... he didn't want us to be sad, but to celebrate his life and fully live ours. 

for me, grief has been a complicated journey of allowing myself to hurt and feel the immense pain of losing my father... and yet, not only carrying out my dad's wishes but fully recognizing and claiming the promises of my heavenly father as well.  and there's a whole lot of living to do, celebrations to be had, blessings to count and a big ole legacy to live out (thanks, dad).

may fall forever symbolize life anew... beginning again... and the hope of something greater, just around the corner.

fall; i'm determined to like you again.

hey, dad.

hey, dad.

not a day goes by where my heart doesn't ache from missing you so much.  i'm still not quite sure how we've made it this past year and a half; the hole you have left in our lives is all encompassing.  sometimes it feels like it will swallow me whole.

i close my eyes and just picture your laugh.  my ears fill with it's vebrato and i see your eyes, happy and twinkling.  sometimes i feel your hugs.  i feel wrapped up in your arms like i was for thirty years.  and i miss how they made me feel like everything was going to be okay.  whether it was a scraped up knee after falling off my bike when i was five, or a welcome home with open arms when i was thirty.  i miss them.  i miss you.

my eyes are filling with tears even as i write this.  i still cry often.  i know you told us not to be sad, but i just can't help it.  god and i have had many conversations about why we are left without you.  why my daughters will never get to experience how awesome their bampy was.  they will know about you; i will tell them every chance i get.  but i wish they got the chance to make memories with you like i did.  those memories have changed my life.

those memories have made me who i am today.  you have made me who i am today.  father's day is around the corner and i'm trying so hard this year to not be sad.  i know that's next to impossible, but i want to celebrate the fact that i was given the gift of being your daughter.  i know the impact a daddy has on his little girl.  and even though you're not here, i know not to take it for granted that i am one of the few to have had such an amazing daddy.

you would love watching our girls with nick.  seeing him be their dad brings so many of my childhood memories come flooding back.  they climb all over him, the way gret and i climbed all over you.  they ride his back and pretend he's a horse.  they love swimming with him just as we did with you.  and he stands over them at night, praying over them as they peacefully sleep... just as you did with us.

your legacy lives on, dad.

last weekend we walked in your memory in the liver life walk in portland.  you would've loved it.  our team raised the most money out of all of the teams that participated and we were large and in charge, dad.  about 40 people, all wearing shirts that brian made in your favorite color: red.  bella was so cute, walking like a big girl.  she just trucked along, and knew she was doing it for you.  "bampy loved me so much, mom", she told me very matter-of-factly.  it made me cry.

i hope you know, i hope that i told you enough, just how much you meant to me.  my heart aches at the thought that maybe you didn't know; fully know.  maybe i didn't express enough just how much i was blessed by being your daughter.  i am forever grateful, dad.  there will never be adequate words to express just how much.

nick&i work hard to pass on the things you have taught us to our girls.  to love others, treasure relationships and share our lives with people.  we are teaching them how to be good friends, how to be confident in who god has made them, how to do the right thing, and most of all, how to love jesus with all their hearts.  you would love them so much, dad.  they are the most beautiful, tender hearted little girls.  and they would make you laugh...oh how they would make you laugh!  "you little imps!" i can hear you say.

we love you, dad.  and miss you every day.  thank you for what you have built in to us, and how you are blessing our family, even after you are gone.  that is just your style; still speaking even though you're not present in body.  you won't ever be truly gone.  i can promise you that.

i am forever blessed to be your little girl.  always, always.  love you so much, dad.
megs

march.

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i have been having some pretty sad days lately.  and the weather has been a bit gloomy, which doesn't help.  i knew i could identify some of the reasons why i've been feeling so down: my ailing grandparents, feeling busy and stretched with the girls and other tasks, being low on sleep... but saturday it hit me like a ton of bricks; it's march.

march maddness.  dad and i always watched together when we could, and always, always filled out brackets to compete against one another.

the 22nd is my dad's birthday.  he always loved "his" day; birthdays were his thing.  if you ever met him--even once--chances are he had your birth date memorized.  it was amazing.  like, rain man amazing.  and, also indicative of just how much he loved people.  right down to the tiniest detail.

i find myself wondering daily if there will ever be a day where my heart doesn't ache because of missing my dad so much.  and i almost hope there won't be, because i don't ever want to forget just how much i loved him.

that's the funny thing about grief; you so desperately want the pain to go away, and yet you're afraid that someday it will... that you will somehow move on.  and that doesn't feel good either.

i still have nights that are so hard.  when i close my eyes sometimes, i can see my dad's face.  or hear his laugh.  or feel his arms squeezing me in one of his bear hugs that he was so famous for.  i can hear him talking excitedly about life, and i can remember the sound of his voice softly singing to bella... or telling mom "can you even believe she's ours?!"

it's amazing how little things can wreck you, when you are grieving the loss of someone.  a song on the radio.  a cherished memory.  or for me, seeing other grandparents playing with their grandkids.  something i'll never get to see my parents do together.

and that absolutely kills me.

i haven't talked about my journey of missing my dad in a while.  and i think it has caught up with me in the last week.  i'm a person that externally processes  my emotions.  i wear my heart on my sleeve.  and sometimes i find it difficult to talk about this horrible path i've been walking for the last year and a half.  i am beyond BLESSED by so many friends and a wonderful family who genuinely love me and care for me.  i just struggle with picking up the phone and saying "hey, can i talk about how much i miss my dad?"  which i know i need to work on.

it's been a rough few weeks.  my dad was an only child, and he was survived by both of my grandparents who are now 91 and 86 years old.  in the last month we have had to admit both of them into the hospital, and then transfer them to a rehabilitation facility.  i've always been incredibly close to my grandparents; i still would spend the night with them when i came home from college.  i can't think of many childhood memories that aren't wrapped up in my grandparents.

since losing my dad, visiting them has been such a source of comfort to me.  i feel so close--so connected--to him, as i see him in each of them.  their mannerisms, their looks.  with their health deteriorating so quickly, i have found myself in another wave of grief.  not only saying goodbye to my grandparents, but bidding farewell to two people that anchor me in my father's memory.

as i struggle through this month, i am determined to count my blessings.  to savor the moments.  to love well. these things do not come easy in dark days, and i have failed miserably some days, and will continue to.  but there are so many things all around me that can lighten the burden weighing down so heavily on my heart.

help me to see them, lord.  and to thank you for them.

"blessed are those whose strength is in you,

whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.

as they pass through the valley,

they will make it a place of springs."

(psalm 84:5)

hope.

we are in the midst of the christmas season, and yet i am heartbroken.  saddened.  sickened by what happened in that elementary school last friday.  it's like a constant weight... a cloud over my thoughts.  i've been struggling to grasp it all; unwilling to accept that this is the evil world in which we live.  in which we are raising our babies in.

as a mama, and also the wife of a school teacher and a school counselor myself, it's certain that the events of last week have spun my fear and anxiety into action.  it's easy to let my thoughts race and my imagination go to unthinkable places, and i've had to guard against becoming victim to those dark corners in my mind.  

still, those thoughts are very present.  

i can't help but notice that others are feeling and experiencing the same reactions.  heartbroken for those families, saddened for the town, and deeply fearful that it will happen again.

to help guard my thoughts and mind against paralyzing fear, i've been trying to counteract my anxiety with truth.  the truth is, not everyone in this world is evil.  in fact, the very same day that shooter took the lives of innocent precious ones, several staff people gathered at my school and spent the day wrapping gifts for some of our students who are in need.  it was honestly my favorite day of being on staff at my little elementary school.  we filled giant bags to the brim of wrapped gifts for about twenty families in our school.  the gifts were all bought by staff people, and their families and friends.  time and money generously given up.  sacrifice in order to bless others.

kindness still exists.  

our security may be shaken, but it has never (or should never) rest in man.  our security rests in the hope of jesus' return.

my father and i sang this old christmas hymn as a duet on a couple different occassions in church during the christmas season when i was growing up.  i can still hear his strong, bass voice belting out the words, and it gives me great comfort.  he no longer has to wait for jesus' return; he is already sitting at his feet.  rocking and singing in the ears of a few of those sweet students, no doubt.  having that picture in my mind brings tears to my eyes.

"come, thou long expected jesus,

born to set thy people free;

from our fears and sins release us,

let us find our rest in thee.

israel's strength and consolation,

hope of all the earth thou art;

dear desire of every nation,

joy of every longing heart.

born thy people to deliver,

born a child and yet a king.

born to reign in us forever,

now thy gracious kingdom bring.

by thine own eternal spirit

rule in all our hearts alone;

by thine all sufficient merit,

raise us to they glorious throne."

(come, thou long-expected jesus)

take care of yourself today.  guard your heart and your mind; counteract your fear with truth.  do something kind for someone else.  hug your loved ones.  say "i love you".  make memories.  count your blessings.  and remember that darkness will not win; jesus has overcome the world.  and he is our hope and peace.

*note: for those of you struggling to reconcile these words, god, and the newtown tragedy, please give this article a read.  i've battled for years the complicated balance of god's sovereignty and man's freedom to choose.  i don't think i'll ever fully understand it, but this article so eloquently expresses everything i've been unable to put into words.  

one year.

this week, we reached the one year mark.

one year of life without my dad.  it's been the hardest year of my life, and by far the most sad.  i am a crier by nature... but this year my tears were taken to a level unknown even by me.

but god is faithful.

our hearts have been broken, dreams shattered, our family forever changed.  but god has been healing us, restoring us and redeeming us through his faithful and enduring lovingkindness.  our lives may change and crumble, but HE remains firm and steadfast through it all.

i wanted to re-post something i wrote in the days following my dad's death.  he left such a beautiful legacy that will live on through the years to come.

here is a glimpse of the amazing man that was my dad.
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last week we held services to pay tribute to my dad and to celebrate his life. it was amazing. wednesday night we held visiting hours, a time i was dreading... i just didn't know how i would emotionally be able to handle seeing people and hearing how much everyone was going to miss my father. as with everything else, god provided stamina (especially for me and my pregnant sister!) and grace. over three hundred people showed up that night to honor my father. some waited in line for almost two hours... others were turned away at the door due to the large crowd.

like i said, it was amazing.

old teachers, relatives, classmates, friends, fellow church goers and city business men weaved their way through that crowded room to tell my sister, mother and i just how much dad had impacted their lives. the proudest moment i had all night was when an older man came through the line. as he approached nick&i, he introduced himself "i was the janitor that used to clean your dad's old office. i've always missed him since he changed buildings." as he turned to walk away, i looked at nick and started to cry. you see, my dad changed office buildings a few years ago. and still, the man that used to be the janitor there had been touched enough by my dad to come that night to pay his respects.

one of my most proudest moments of my father was right then.

thursday morning was his memorial service. i like to refrain from calling it his "funeral". too depressing. dad would've hated that. all those who attended filled three rooms, one of them showing the service via satellite it was so crowded. together we laughed and cried... which was such an honest account of celebrating dad's life. joy of a blessed life, tinged with the sadness of losing a man too early.

gretchen and i each wrote a piece to honor dad, and our husbands somehow read them through tears of their own. here is what i wrote:

i'm not sure how to even begin trying to capture into words what my dad meant to me, or just how much i loved him. anyone who has spent any significant amount of time with me knows what a special relationship we had and how i respected and valued my father. the older i get, the more and more i realize what a rare and precious gift it is to have a father as wonderful as mine. although in recent days i've struggled with the fact that i was only able to be with him on this earth for thirty years, i thank jesus for blessing me with that season, no matter how short it seems.

my father made being our dad one of his biggest passions in life. i have such great memories of growing up with him… playing wiffle ball in the backyard, building snowmen and going sledding in the winter and shooting hoops in the driveway for many, many years. i can still remember the smell of his long, khaki colored business coat as we would run excitedly to the door and into his arms the minute he got home from work. he would tuck us into bed every single night, even into high school and spend time talking with us, praying for us and sharing things he thought were important. i remember him telling me “megan, life is all about relationships. always take time to invest in others.” this truth he not only imparted to me and my sister, but he made it his way of life. there have been countless people who have told us in the last week “i’m not sure what i’m going to do without gary. he was my rock.” and as my heart aches and tears fall down my face, i think to myself “i know exactly what you mean.” whenever i was upset or had a bad day, i would always feel better after talking with my dad. as i grew into adulthood, there were many a tearful phone call home to him; the constant person in my life i could always talk to and receive wisdom, comfort and encouragement. he would always say to me “it’s all going to work out.” and as i find myself at a loss of how to live the rest of my life without him, i can hear him telling me
these words and somehow it makes it a little bit easier.

most of all what i will always remember about my sweet dad was his faith in jesus. i can still hear his booming, bass voice singing strongly and steadily beside me at church… words of the old hymns that were the anchor of his faith. i remember waking up sometimes in the night to see the shadow of my dad in the doorway, and i knew he was reciting scripture over me, or silently praying. i wouldn’t be able to begin to count the times i saw my dad, kneeling beside his bed in prayer and what inner strength and peace that gave me… he made me always feel safe because i knew he was always talking to the lord, always seeking him in everything. as i grew older, he would tell me that he had been praying for my future husband from the time i was a baby. he poured so much time into prayer over the man i was going to marry and he just glowed with satisfaction at what he saw his prayers accomplish when he met nick. dad has left a tremendous legacy in me, in nick and i and our marriage, in our daughter bella and our baby on the way. though he never got to meet our new little one coming in april, his story will be woven into the threads of our family for years and years to come.

in his last day, we had many sweet moments with my dad. it was unimaginable to me to watch his disease take so much life and vibrancy away from him. someone who used to be so strong, who used to get everyone else through the tough times, who had the biggest hugs and the loudest laugh. god gave us all so much grace as we watched him take our father home. one of my most precious memories was the evidence of his heart for the lord right up until the very end. despite all that he had endured for the past seven years, despite everything that had been taken away from him, he never lost his deep, deep faith in his savior. with gretchen on one side of his hospital bed, and me on the other, we began to hear my fathers voice in a weak shout of words, a joyful smile lit up his face. as i strained into hear what he was saying, i could hear the song “oh how i love jesus, oh how i love jesus, oh how i love jesus because he first loved me.” followed by this line from one of his favorite hymns “his eye is on the sparrow” he sang: “i sing because I’m happy, i sing because i’m free…”

how much peace and joy that memory gives to me. dad’s unending love for jesus was there until the very end, and now he is with him face to face, for all eternity. i know that if his story would move anyone to come to know jesus as their lord and savior, dad would’ve willingly given up his life. that’s how much he loved his lord… that’s how much he loved others.

i love you, dad. i know that “it’s all going to work out.” and i trust that i will be with you again
someday soon… in the blink of an eye. though you will be missed, you will never be forgotten. my life is forever changed because you were my father.

thank you, i love you,
meg

tomorrow nick&i go for our twenty week sonogram to find out if baby #2 is a boy or a girl. dad couldn't wait for this news... he told me the day he passed away how excited he was to find out. i know he'll be rejoicing with us, but it still is hard to know he won't be here... i won't see his face light up with excitement, eyes widen as he lets out an exuberant "yessss!" over hearing the gender of his fourth grandbaby. but i know he'll be doing some fist pumps from heaven, that is for sure :)

i can't think of a better tribute to my father than seeing hundreds of people cry and rejoice over his passing from this earth, onto his heavenly home. i'm such a proud, proud daughter. i always knew my father was loved and respected... seeing the lives impacted by my father was so very moving for me. and somehow it eased a bit of the weight of the grief i've been feeling. although he only lived fifty two years, he touched more lives in his short time on earth than many touch in a lifetime.

and that's what dad thought was the most important.

my dad wasn't esteemed by others exclusively because of his success, his popularity, his earthly accomplishments... he was esteemed by others because he was all about people. he lived his life in a way that the janitor from his old office building several years ago would wait in line for two hours to offer his condolences to my dad's family.

and that is what makes my father so amazing. and nothing--not even death--can ever take that away.

when giving thanks is hard.

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this fall, a constant thought has been plaguing my brain: "one year ago".  one year ago, we ate our last dinner with my dad in boston's north end.  he was so happy.  one year ago, he was admitted to mass general for what we thought would be just a few hours.  he ended up not ever leaving.  one year ago, bampy held bella on his hospital bed one last time.  one year ago, we watched jesus take my precious dad home.

one year ago.

this week is especially hard.  i remember everything with such vividness.  our first anniversary of his passing.  last year at this time, nick, bella and i were on a plane headed for dallas.  after good reports from several doctors, promises of a liver transplant right around the corner and the constant demands of my father, we decided to carry through with our plans to spend thanksgiving with nick's family in texas.  little did i know that the very next afternoon i would be right back on a plane again, headed to boston... racing to be with my father who had taken a sudden turn for the worse.

i never ever intended for this blog to be a grief-journal.  i have always prayed that god would use whatever story he writes for me, but i never would've wanted this story.  however, since the god of the universe holds the pen and knows a far bigger plan than my finite mind can comprehend, i figure i might as well share my journey as it just may minister to another griever's heart.

you all, my lovely readers, have been so sweet to encourage my efforts to be genuine and honest.  i so appreciate your kind emails and notes.  i really don't see being authentic as an option.  as a christian--or as a human--i see it as a necessity to make it through this life together.  there's no sense in pretending we have it all together.  no one does.

and there's such freedom in realizing that.

friends have been asking me how i'm doing.  to be honest, some days i don't really know.  one minute, i'm okay.  the next minute i'm yelling at bella and getting worked up over a toy-scattered house, or the sink being full of dishes.  grief has a way of mixing in to all of our emotions and displaying itself in ways we are completely unprepared for.

so as i brace myself for this week, i'm fully admitting that the irony of dad's passing being on thanksgiving makes the whole "giving thanks" thing infinitely difficult.  i know there is always so much to be thankful for and i am certainly blessed.

but i'm not going to pretend that it's easy.

gratitude is a discipline of the heart and the mind.  some days it comes easier than others.  but i believe a truly gracious heart is born on the days where being thankful is difficult.

we've started scripture memory with bella and her verse for the next couple of weeks i picked especially for this time.  when i recite it with her, i'm focusing my heart and mind on it's truth: "give thanks to the lord, for he is good; his love endures forever" psalm 107:1.

i ADORE this quote by ann voskamp in her book, a thousand gifts:

"i have lived pain and my life can tell; i only deepen the wound of the world when i neglect to give thanks for the early light dappled through leaves and heavy perfume of wild roses in early july and the song of crickets on humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good god gives."

giving thanks.  noticing the small things.  keeping up with my gratitude list.  even when it's HARD and my soul feels empty and full of grief.

543.  the early morning frost framing our windows.

544.  norman rockwell christmas prints.  nostalgic simplicity.

545.  homemade pizza.

546.  the quiet of sleeping girls, warm and cozy in their beds.

547.  piles of laundry, warm and clean.

548.  bella's little voice "mama, i am soooo happy."

549.  emmy all bundled up.

550.  nick's saturday morning breakfasts.  the warmth of our home and the smells of bacon sizzling and coffee brewing.

551.  home church.

thanks for walking with me on this journey.  maybe you haven't lost someone, maybe you have.  maybe it's not grief you're struggling with today, but something else.  whatever it may be, i pray that we can all be cultivating gracious hearts. even when it's hard.

god is good ALL THE TIME.  all the time, GOD IS GOOD.

mourning with those who mourn.

i've been mulling the concept of mourning over in this head of mine over the past eleven months.  not only have i experienced a huge loss in my life, but i've also watched several people i care about lose loved ones within this last year as well.  while watching them, hearing their stories, and reflecting on my own experiences, i've come to many conclusions about mourning.  one of them is this: sometimes christians aren't very good at this whole grief thing.

and that totally stinks.

i guess i get it.  pain is uncomfortable.  we don't always know what to do with other people's suffering, and most of the time wish we could just put the pieces of their broken lives back together again.  but i wonder; why are we so anxious for people to feel better?  because we care, definitely, yes.  but sometimes i think we want to make things "pretty" again.  less messy.  so we don't have to get our hands dirty... so we don't feel uncomfortable looking at or experiencing the brokenness.

too bad this doesn't work.  why?  because life is messy.  there's no getting around it.  doesn't make you any less godly or unspiritual or faith-less to struggle.  in fact, i think the contrary is true.  jesus tells us in his word that suffering is a part of this life:

{source}

i'll never forget one of my first classes at dallas seminary.  i was a bright eyed, naive twenty three year old, eager and ready to become a counselor and help others.  there i sat, soaking up every word my professor was saying much like a dry sponge, thirsting for water.  and then he said something like this: 

"many of you will meet with hurting people and you will have the urge to spend an hour with them, talking with them, helping them and then wrap everything up at the end of your sixty minutes with a nice, neat bow on top.  you'll send them on their way, thinking you've made everything nice and pretty and you've "fixed" them.  but it doesn't work that way.  healing is a process.  and it's not pretty.  it's not our job to clean people up.  it's our job to sit with them in their pain and show them the love of jesus."

wow.

that statement had a profound effect on me.  and how i wish that more people had this perspective.  especially followers of christ.

i've cringed every time someone has told me not to be sad because my dad's in a "better place".  although it's true, he is in a much better place, my emotions, my grief, my sorrow and my deep, profound sense of loss is real.  jesus has been so sweet to draw me close to him, and fill me with his grace... but that does not mean it's always easy.

and that's okay.

the shortest verse in the bible is john 11:35.  two words: "jesus wept."  if you look further into the context of this verse, you'll find out why.  because he lost a good friend.  lazarus had died.  i love the power of envisioning the savior of the world, crouched down on the ground, weeping tears of sorrow and aching with loss.  why?  because i know he gets it.  isaiah 53:3 talks of him being a man of many sorrows, well acquainted with grief.

so if we are truly loving each other in the way that i believe christ calls us to, i think our support of one another would look a whole lot different.  there would be less talking and more listening.  less "having to have all of the answers" and more sitting with someone in their pain.  less not wanting to get messy, and more rolling up our sleeves to go to battle with and for one another.  that's the kind of christ-follower i want to be, and certainly the kind i want to raise our girls to be.

scripture calls us to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (romans 12:15). why?  we are supposed to be for each other.  are you a fellow mourner?  or are you too busy?  too comfortable to get messy?

my family and i are coming up on the year anniversary of my dad's death.  friends (and even some strangers!) from all over the country have been so sweet in sending cards, letters, text messages and phone calls to let me know they are praying for us.  it's been such a blessing... i can honestly say that i feel a sense of joy and peace i haven't felt in the past year.  i know god's healing my heart... and the encouragement and support of others has made his love for me tangible.  people being the hands and feet of jesus, and loving well.

we need each other for these times.  this is when the rubber meets the road, and our faith is called to action. if we love jesus, we can't help but love others.  in hard times, in good times, in easy times, in not-so-easy times.

"if i have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and knowledge, and if i have faith that can move mountains, but have not love, i am nothing."

1 corinthians 13:2 

so let's roll up our sleeves and go to battle for one another.  let's live this life side by side.  willing to get messy.  daring to love.

god is the ruler yet.

i tried to go to bed an hour ago, but i can't sleep.  my heart is heavy and my mind is racing.

today i heard of another loss.

another family that's grieving.  who has already once grieved for a lost husband/father/brother.  and now is going through it all over again.  these are the things that make me question.  that cause me to wrestle with god's goodness.  because things like this don't feel good.  not one single bit.

all day as i cleaned and cooked and tended to my girls, these thoughts, questions and angry emotions swirled through my brain.  i have no answers.  i barely have words.  but this tune kept coming to my mind:

"this is my father's world, oh let me ne'er forget,

that though the wrong seems oft so strong,

god is the ruler yet.

this is my father's world, the battle is not done,

jesus who died shall be satisfied 

and earth and heaven be one."

this is my two year old's favorite bedtime song these days.  and it's even more beautiful when sung by her sweet little voice.  but i cling to these words in times i don't understand.  this whole last year of my life has been one giant season of not understanding.  for myself and my own family, but for all of the families that have suffered losses as well.  there is nothing quite like the pain of missing a loved one so desperately. 

come quickly, lord jesus.

when life is hard.

to say i've been struggling these days would be a bit of an understatement.  it's been rough going around these parts as of late.

i haven't written anything about my emotions for a while and figured it's high time to do just that.  i always want to share the hard stuff; not just the good.  i made a vow when i started blogging that i would share my heart; be vulnerable and honest.  i haven't quite known how to process everything that i'm feeling...

i had a bit of a breakdown on sunday.  my poor husband.  he sat on our bed next to me, his hand on my back as i just cried and cried until i had no tears left.  ever have those days?

we had such a blissful summer.  carefree and simple.  and then september hit and life went nuts.  i mean, nuts.  we were both back to work, i'm taking a few grad classes for my school counselor certification and nick's coaching football this season.  our weekends are shot, my job got cut by a day so money is, well, tight, and i'm doing homework again.  can i have summer back now, please?

and then, there's the grief-thing.

i have always, always loved fall.  everything about it.  the vibrant color of the trees, the crispness in the air, seeing my breath as i step outside.  football.  boots&sweaters.  pumpkin spice goodness.  fire-lit nights.  it has always been my absolute *favorite*.

until a year ago.

i have been telling my family all summer that i was dreading the fall.  i knew everything would remind me.  remind me of where we were, the tears, the goodbyes, the sadness and utter sense of emptiness.  the smell of cold air, the bright orange and red leaves.  everything i once loved now only reminds me that nothing will ever be the same.

everything changed when i lost my dad.  not only did i lose such a huge presence in my life...  i lost a sense of naivety.  i told nick the other day: i can't separate my life now from death.  it's around me, in me and constantly looming around me.  sure, i've always been aware of death and loss, but it never had happened to me.  now, all of a sudden, it's become such a harsh reality that is very, very real to me.  and i can't escape it.

i know god is good and that he is faithful.  but do i feel it right now?  not really.  and you know what?  that's okay.  i have learned through all of this that god is big enough.  he's big enough to handle my seasons of anger, questioning, frustration and despair.  he's big enough to shoulder all of my emotions; none of them are too big for him.  and, most importantly, he's big enough to love me through it.  to hold me as i wrestle.  as i feel let down by the god who allowed my family to go through this.  allowed us to walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

never before has that verse felt so real to me.

so, this is where the rubber meets the road.  even though i don't feel grateful, joyful, peaceful... is my relationship with god anchored on feelings?  or what i know to be true?

driving back from the park today with my girls in tow, this familiar song played over our radio: "blessed be your name, in the land that is plentiful, where your streams of abundance flow... blessed be your name.  blessed be your name when i'm found in the desert place, though i walk through the wilderness... blessed be your name."  i smiled to myself and turned the radio dial up.  okay, god.  i'm listening.

one foot in front of the other.  relying on god's grace alone.  giving thanks for the little things.  allowing myself to not have it all together or appear as if i do.  that is how i'll make it through these next few months.

and maybe, one day, i'll be able to enjoy fall again.

heaven.

today marks nine months since i last kissed my dad's forehead those early morning hours of thanksgiving day.  i find that so hard to believe.  because it seems like a lifetime since he's been gone.

i've been teaching bella the names of her grandparents lately.  last night i quizzed her for about twenty minutes until she got them all (these are the things we do while daddy is at football practice).  she was having fun, i promise :) 

we started talking about bampy and i asked her where he was.  she answered with her usual response "in heaven."  so we talked about people he was in heaven with.  i know she's only two, but i can see the little wheels in her head turning.

tonight, at dinner, i quizzed her again to show nick her skills.  then i said: "bella, where's bampy?"  she took a bite of her pita chips (which, by the way, were the only things on her plate she would eat tonight.  lovely) and thought for a minute, her big brown eyes starting off in deep concentration.  then, her face lit up and she excitedly answered "in heaven!" and glancing down at her baby sister who was in her bouncer seat she said "i want to go!  emmy you want to go to heaven, too?!"

awww geez.  my sweet little ones teach me something on nearly a daily basis.  whether it's revealing things to me about my flaws and weaknesses, reminding me of the heart of our heavenly father, or setting me straight in so many ways.  and tonight, i was struck by the innocent heart of my two year old.  unencumbered by fear, not weighted down by the things of this world.  i loved that.

bella's response did catch me by surprise.  and i admit, i chuckled nervously and felt tears sting my eyes thinking "ummmm no.  i'm certainly not ready for that, thank you very much."  while nick sat there, cool as a cucumber and said "bella, that's a good thought, isn't it?"

i love bella's sweet little heart.  and while i'm so not ready for anyone else i love to be going to heaven any time soon, i was reminded tonight through my toddler, that we should all be preparing and anxiously awaiting our eternal home.

from the mouths of babes, folks.

thank you, bella grace.  for once again teaching your mama.  you are an example to me in so many ways.  love you, sweets.

hey, dad.

hey, dad.  i've been missing you so much lately.  everything reminds me of you, how much i miss you and how i ache because you're not here.  you were one person in my life that could always make things feel better.  even if you couldn't change scraped up knees when i was little, or life's disappointments as i grew older, you had a way of knowing what i needed: a hug, affirmation, a good talk, encouraging words, a note.  so it feels weird that the hardest thing i've ever been through i have to endure with you not here to do any of those things.

i wish you could see bella and emmy right now.  i wish i could watch you playing with them and loving on them.  you would ask bella to show you how she dances like cinderella and then you would tell her just how beautiful she is.  you would hold emmy and talk and sing to her, telling her over and over that you're her bampy and that you love her with all your heart.  you would laugh at bella's funny and spunky personality, and marvel at how sweet and smiley emmy is.  you would treat them like little queens and i hate that they are missing out on knowing you and your love for them.

i wish i could get your advice, your wisdom, your guidance on so many things.  decisions were easier to make when you helped talk me through them.  you were always the best at that.  not only for your family, but for so many other people who looked to you for those things.  you were respected by so many people, dad.  i wish i could tell you about how i've gotten back into running since i've had emmy; you were always a great cheerleader.  i wish i could tell you about the class i just finished at husson, and how every time i turned on to campus i found comfort knowing that these were your old stomping grounds.  i wish you could see our house; we've done so much more to it since the last time you saw it and you would love it.  i would always get so excited to show you things that i did; decorating or different little projects here and there, because even if you didn't know much about them, you'd always act so proud.  i wish you would call us up one of these summer nights to go to "dq" (dairy queen) for ice cream.  you always loved going there, and i loved going there with you.

i wish on tired, emotional, self-doubting days that i could call you.  i miss your affirming, encouraging words so so much.  you always made me feel beautiful, special...valued.  i wish i could watch you joking around with nick, calling him your boy and watching sports with him.  those things just warmed my heart and made me feel so blessed.  i wish you could stop by on your lunch breaks with sandwiches from franks bakery like you did countless times last summer.  we could sit out on the front porch and talk... i would've really loved that, dad.

not a day goes by without me thinking "i would give anything to call dad right this second."  i know you are much better off where you are now, but that doesn't stop the ache in my heart that doesn't go away.  the pain of missing you.  the huge hole that your absence has left in my life.  lately, when i close my eyes, i see your face.  you are always smiling; your blue eyes bright and shining.  and when i open my eyes and you are gone, i hurt.  because now i can only see your face in those corners of my mind... and that is far--so far--from being good enough.

i wish i could tell you again and again just how much i love you and how blessed i am to be your daughter.  i could tell you that a million times and still feel like it wasn't enough.  i hope you know just how much i love you and how proud i am of who you were.  my life has been forever changed because you were my dad.

love you and miss you every single day.

bless the lord, o my soul.

i have a new fav song. it's "ten thousand reasons" by matt redman. i play it over and over throughout my day as i tend to the girls, clean the kitchen, gather up laundry. and it's literally on repeat in my head when it's not playing on our house. i just love it. it's words are so powerful. see for yourself (and give it a listen here):

"bless the lord, o my soul, o my soul
worship his holy name
sing like never before, o my soul
i'll worship his holy name.

the sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
it's time to sing your song again
whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
let me be singing when the evening comes.

you're rich in love and you're slow to anger
your name is great and your heart is kind
for all your goodness i will keep on singing
ten thousand reasons for my heart to find.

and on that day when my strength is failing
the end draws near and my time has come
still my soul will sing your praise unending
ten thousand years and then forevermore.

bless the lord, o my soul, o my soul
worship his holy name
sing like never before, o my soul
worship his holy name."

a couple of weeks ago, i wanted to get the girls out of the house and try to get some exercise. i know it sounds strange, but there is a big, beautiful cemetery across the river that is the perfect place for walking. it's always busy with joggers, people on rollerblades or pushing strollers. it's actually the place my father will be buried now that it's warm and the ground is no longer frozen, which only makes me want to go there more. the land is hilly and full of huge, green trees and a quiet stream runs through it. as we pulled into the cemetery that morning, this song played on the radio so it was in my head (as usual) as i pushed the girls and hiked along the rolling paths. it was the perfect time--and setting--for thinking and reflecting.

these words played in my head as i hummed and walked. they played in my head as i searched for my father's family headstone, where he will soon be buried. they played in my head as the tears burned in my eyes and ran down my cheeks as i stared at a cold stone with my dad's last name engraved on it's face. they played in my head as i pondered this life and just how fragile it is.

my family has experienced quite a lot of loss this year. it's been six months since my dad has passed away. and just last week a friend of our family's was taken from this earth at the young age of 27. dj was best friends with my sister and brother. because he fought health problems all his life, i always knew it would be so hard for them when he one day went home to be with jesus. i keep thinking about them. and about his sweet, sweet mother mary who lost not just her only child, but also her husband when she was pregnant with dj.

such heartbreak. such loss.

i'm reminded more and more over the past few months just how temporary this life is. and as i walked through the cemetery that morning with my girls, i found myself praying. with a huge lump in my throat. praying that i would treasure each day as if it were my last. praying that i would not spend my energy worrying, but rather thanking god for all the things--big and small--that he has so graciously blessed me with. praying that if i am taken from this earth too soon that my husband and my girls would know just how MUCH i love them.

i can't even type that without tears coming to my eyes.

my favorite part of this song is the last verse:

"and on that day when my strength is failing, the end draws near and my time has come...still my soul will sing your praise unending; ten thousand years and then forevermore."

i think it's my favorite because it reminds me of what comes next. it reminds me that for ten thousand years and forevermore we will be in the presence of jesus, singing his praises, perfected in all the ways that were im-perfect here on earth. it reminds me of my father, whose soul truly sang the praise of his god as his end was drawing near... and i see his face in my mind, beaming with inexplicable joy as he sings before his father for all eternity.

for all of us who have lost loved ones. for all of us who feel tired, weary in this life. may that be what pushes us on.

sing like never before, o my soul. worship his holy name.

spring does come.

i've been mia lately on the blog front. partly because of exhaustion. partly because when i have free time, all i feel like doing is laying on the couch and watching shows on netflix. but honestly more because i've been struggling over the past couple of weeks and feel inadequate to express what i'm feeling into words.

it's amazing how grief sneaks up on you. as a counselor, i used to tell people this. advising others through the grief journey and actually experiencing it are two very, very different things. now i find myself as the one stumbling through this painful season of life where my mood is subconsciously dictated by birthdays and other various dates, memories, and random songs on the radio. these things have the power to take my otherwise cheerful, contented self and suddenly plummet me into a dark pit of loss and loneliness.

grief is tricky like that.

last week would've been dad's 53rd birthday. i knew the days leading up to march 22nd would be tough. but again, i had no idea how these feelings would blindside me. one minute i would be just fine. the next minute, nick would find me curled up in our bed, sobbing. i was also preparing myself to watch march madness without dad for the first time in my thirty one years. it was one of our favorite times of the year, me and dad. and last week my sweet niece, lucy mae, entered the world. she met all of her family that has loved her and prayed for her while she grew inside my sister's belly... except for her bampy. i kept picturing him in the waiting room with all of us; hearing his loud, booming laugh and seeing his eyes, wide with excitement. i could picture him holding his newest granddaughter and beaming with pride. there was definitely a hole there where he would have been.

of course this made me even more emotional, thinking of him not being there to greet emmy when she enters the world in just a few short weeks. he would be so proud; he had fallen in love with both of them the minute gretchen and i told him that we were expecting. if you knew my dad--or had met him even once--i'm sure he made a point to tell you that he had two grandbabies on the way. he thought it was so cool. i'm so very thankful that dad was able to know this exciting news... i just can't help but think how unfair it is that he was never able to meet either of these precious girls. they would've had their bampy wrapped right around their little fingers. why god didn't allow him to share in their lives, i'll never know. but i'll have to trust his sovereignty anyway.

it has been a rough couple of weeks for me, taking all of this in and feeling the loss of my dad's presence in such vivid ways. but i have hope. i have hope because i look back a few months ago to this fall. everything in nature was dying around me, and i felt it in such a real way in the very core of my being. i've never been in such despair in my life. nick&i had just moved here. we were still settling in. we had left the most amazing circle of close friends that had been our family for years, and come to a place where we were trying to make new friends, but didn't really have any yet. it was lonely and scary. we were both adjusting to new jobs, new responsibilities with living in a house we had just moved into, and new stages that our sweet bella was going through. on top of all of those hardships, dad was not good. i watched the dad that i had always known--one of my closest companions, biggest encourager, my rock--diminishing before my very eyes. as we were thrown into adjusting to a new life, we were making trips almost every weekend to visit him in the hospital in boston. i talked to him every day while he was there, several times hanging up in tears feeling as though my dad was slipping away. with each passing week, his voice began to get softer and his speech more slurred. his usual, jovial spirit was replaced with one of utter despair. poor bella saw her mama cry much more than any one year old ever should and i remember feeling so guilty one night as my little girl comforted me as i wept for my dad. and nick, in the middle of holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, was trying to stay strong for me. yet i'm sure felt as if he was going to crumble under the heaviness of his own grief and sadness at the loss of his father-in-law and all they had wanted to get to share together.

it was honestly the worst time of my life. and the hardest time in our married life.

but i look back on that season and i see how god clearly carried us. i mean: he knelt down, scooped us up into his almighty arms and held us as we walked through the darkness that felt so heavy and burdensome. he was our strength, our shelter, our grace. and we as people--and as husband and wife--will never be the same. as hard as that season was, god has used it--as only he can--to bless us and remind us of his character in such an intimate way.

last week, i was having a particularly hard day missing my dad. i was on my way up our front walk to step onto our porch when something caught my eye. we had started digging up old shrubs and landscaping along the front of our house last summer, so all that remained were a few stubborn bushes with gnarled, old roots and the remains of the existing mulch. but there, on that day as i felt weighed down by grief, i spied them. beautiful crocuses just beginning to peek their purple heads out of the dead shrubbery that surrounded them. i stopped in my tracks and almost started to cry. i knew it was jesus reminding me "spring does come."

spring. there is hope. a sense of renewal. new things being born; life being breathed into things that were once dying. and this, my friends, refreshes my soul. it's what pushes me through the hard seasons of missing my dad. the times where the loss of him seems too much to bear. the fear i feel when i think of losing anyone else. the uncertainty of what's lurking around the corner.

spring does come.

a verse that i stumbled upon when i was first grappling with dad's diagnosis seven years ago keeps coming to mind. psalm 84:5-7 says "blessed are those whose strength is in you; whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. as they pass through the valley of baca, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rain also covers it with pools. they go on from strength to strength until each appears before god in zion."

no matter what we may be facing today, may god give us the grace to "make it a place of springs."

(photo source)

football mourning.

i have a pet peeve. it's when people hear that i am a new england patriots fan and they ask me why. seriously? i'm from maine. maine is IN new england. i could maybe understand if they were the "boston patriots" (which even then if you have ever been to maine you would know that we consider ourselves an extension of boston when it comes to the celtics and red sox). but the new england patriots? that's like asking someone who lives in dallas why they're a cowboys fan.

it's simple geography, friends.

anyway. today i'm in football mourning. i'm not kidding. i wish i was. my dad passed his love and passion for sports down to me. from a very young age i loved them. we went to games together (i had a debut on a local television station when i was three or four; as i recall my dad had taken me to a high school basketball tournament game... a big deal here in maine... and the camera zoomed in on me, sitting next to my dad, asleep on his shoulder). we watched games together. we talked about games together.

it was our thing.

from march madness, to fantasy football (i beat him more times than he would probably ever admit), to growing up shooting hoops in the driveway, we shared it all.

yesterday, i missed him.

our team, the new england patriots, were in another superbowl. dad and i had been so excited to watch sports together once nick&i moved to maine this summer. nick couldn't wait either. but unfortunately, we were only able to watch a few games together before dad was gone. i did, however, get to watch the game last night in one of my dad's patriots tshirts. an avid fan, he had made it to gillette stadium for his first patriots game just a few weeks before he was admitted to the hospital in boston. he had been SO excited. even with my emmy-belly, dad's shirt was absolutely ginormous but i loved wearing it while i watched "our team".

dad would've been disgusted by the loss. when the giants beat the patriots four years ago in the superbowl, corrupting their perfect season, i called my dad after the game. "i'm depressed" he said. and wasn't kidding. sure, it only lasted about a day until he was back to his jovial self, but we take our sports very seriously.

so today, i've been doing laundry, baking bread, experimenting with homemade coffee syrup... anything to keep my mind off of the fact that we lost last night. but i realize even more so, i'm trying to distract myself from realizing that i don't have my dad to call and talk to about the big game.

nick&i always say loving sports is a fun thing when your teams win and a hard thing when they lose. nick often quotes a line from the movie fever pitch where an uncle is warning his nephew about becoming a red sox fan "careful, kid... they'll break your haaht." (translated: heart. no, that's not a typo. it's how people talk around here)

it's that way with sports. you win some, you lose some. but the wins are a whole lot more fun.

dad, i know you could probably care less about football now that you're with jesus. just wanted you to know that nick&i will keep your sports-loving-legacy alive. bella woke up last night when i checked on her before i went to bed. and as she sleepily lifted her head from her crib, with squinted eyes, she whispered "football?"

i knew you'd be proud.

thirty one.

on friday i turned thirty one. sounds old when i actually type out the words. aging doesn't bother me, though. i fully embrace it. each year--each day--is a gift, and i am determined to not get influenced with society's disdain for passing years.

i was a little unprepared for difficult moments this birthday would bring, only two months after my dad passed. he was always one of the first people to call me on my birthdays... excitement filling his voice, "happy birthday, megs!" he'd say and tell me how much he loved me. "you are now officially living your thirty second year of life" he would've told me yesterday.

i miss those calls.

he always wrote the sweetest notes in birthday cards sent from he and mom. this year when i opened mom's card, tears stung as i saw her signature standing alone on the page. it's the little things that i don't prepare for, that pierce my heart in unexpected ways. yesterday was no exception.

it was a good day, though. full of blessings in the midst of those difficult moments. i woke up to find our school had closed due to snow & ice. perfect. the only thing that would've made it better was if nick had gotten a snow day as well. i crawled back in to bed and slept until bella woke up. we ate breakfast together, i had a special surprise gift from a friend delivered to our front porch, and bel and i loaded ourselves into the car and drove to have lunch with my mom and gretchen and jude. chili's. i always want their chips and salsa when i'm pregnant.

after lunch, bel and i both took naps. which is extremely rare for me, so that was a gift in and of itself! when nick got home, he gave me the most beautiful card (which he knows is always the most meaningful gift to me!) filled with sweet words, a command to go get my hair highlighted (yesss) and a promise that we would go antiquing soon (i've been wanting him to come with me to one of my favorite stores). we dropped bella off at mom's and then he took me out to an indian restaurant downtown i've been wanting to try.

oh.my.deliciousness.

i love indian food. nick had never had it and was a little nervous, but he loves me :) he ended up becoming a huge fan. we had a wonderful meal and as we stepped back out onto the street after our dinner, snow was softly falling. it was perfect.

i have been craving pina colada smoothies from a place at the mall and had some birthday money to spend, so we headed there for smoothies and some shopping. even better? i bought a dress (for after emmy... need to remind myself that my body will be "normal" again one day), a necklace, sunglasses and some earrings all for twenty five bucks. awesome.

our birthday-date-night ended with watching movies in bed, which is one of my favorite things. it was a wonderful day spent with my favorite people... another promise of blessings and joy even in the midst of grieving. god is good. all the time.

onto year thirty two...

homesick.

it hasn't even been two months since dad has passed. and in some ways it feels like years. grieving is such a long, slow process. and i'm okay with that. i don't think there will ever be a day that i don't miss my dad--for the rest of my life. i think there will always be a gaping hole where he would have been. sure, it won't always feel so raw and painful. but i'll miss him every day until i get to see him again.

my dad was my rock. he was the first man that ever loved me, took care of me, protected me, made me feel safe. and the only man in my life until there was nick. and he didn't come along until i was twenty six. dad was in so many ways my best friend, my confidant, my source of wisdom in countless things. i still can't watch a football game without wanting to call him after to discuss. or simply thinking of doing tax season without him to consult with throws me into a complete frenzy. and when i have a bad day, or am struggling with trusting god in something i usually first think "i wonder what dad would tell me" since i called him many, many times on those rough days. one of the last things i said to him before he passed was how proud i was of him... that he was my hero. he always has been from the time i was a little girl, and always will be until i'm wrinkly and gray.

nearly every day something happens that causes me to break down; and it's usually a song i hear on the radio. today, i heard "homesick" by mercy me on the way home from school and just dissolved into tears. but i forced myself to keep listening because it's such a beautiful song. and it speaks so directly to the pain i'm feeling. here are the lyrics:

""you're in a better place, i've heard a thousand times
and at least a thousand times i've rejoiced for you
but the reason why i'm broken, the reason why i cry
is how long must i wait to be with you.

i close my eyes and i see your face
if home's where my heart is than i'm out of place
lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
i've never been more homesick than now.

help me lord cause i don't understand your ways
the reason why i wonder if i'll ever know
but, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same
cause i'm still here, so far away from home.

in christ, there are no goodbyes
and in christ, there is no end
so i'll hold onto jesus with all that i have
to see you again...

i close my eyes and i see your face
if home's where my heart is than i'm out of place
lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
i've never been more homesick than now."

you can listen to it here. such a pretty, pretty song... heartache filled with *hope*. that is how the grieving process is when we know our loved ones are with jesus. does it bring comfort? absolutely. does it stop the pain? not a chance. we are still bound by our earthly mindsets and missing the ones that we love so dearly. as christians i feel as though sometimes we do each other a disservice trivializing the loss of others by saying cliche things about not mourning because they are in heaven. scripture tells us to "grieve not as those who have no hope". our grief will look different, but it's still painful. it's still a process.

and that is okay. jesus understands. and he meets us right there in our pain.

it's been less than two months and i feel as though life has moved on for everyone but me and my family. which is true. it has. and that's the hard part. i know i've moved on while others have been grieving too. it's natural, i guess. although i hope my response will be different the next time i walk through this with a friend. i don't want people to forget to pray for us. that there are days where we feel utterly broken and shattered by all that we have lost in my dad. that every day we have to face life without a man that we loved so dearly.

i'm just beginning to unpack all of the emotions that have been filling my heart for the past couple of months. i know it's a process, so i'll just keep walking and keep trusting jesus. one day at a time.

farewell, two thousand eleven.

i'm always a bit reflective in january. saying goodbye to the past year, and welcome a new one with excitement, renewal and hope. this year has been a bit different thinking about moving forward. why? because moving forward means doing so without my dad. i know he'd want me to, and i know i have to, but life just isn't the same without him. i have moments every day where i break down in tears. usually in the car. usually listening to some song on the radio. or when i want to call him and then i remember i can't. ever again.

what continually gives me comfort as i look forward to the new year is knowing that i can have hope. jesus has been so near to me during this hard season, and for that i am so thankful. i continually focus on the passage found in 1 thessalonians 4:13-18 that talks about those that have gone before us... and specifically verse thirteen that says: "grieve not as those who have no hope."

so as i reflect on this past year--such a mix of blessings and hardship--i can focus on all that god has done, and the promise of what's to come. because i know there's more good stuff ahead.

here's a reflection of two thousand and eleven... picture-overload-style.

january
- my thirtieth birthday: a shopping trip with my handsome husband and a surprise party planned by him at one of my fav restaurants in dallas: eno's pizza in trendy bishop arts district. so fun.

- bella taking her first big girl bath in the real bathtub! she loved it (clearly).

february
- snow storm shut down dallas for a week! we were ecstatic! everyday was spent with our friends... we ate, went sledding, played games, games and more games, and when we got really stir crazy, we went for a trek to starbucks and walmart just down the street. hands down the most fun week of winter.

march
- girls/guys weekends. guys went camping. girls stayed in the omni hotel in las colinas. which sounds better to you??! :) we ate sushi, took crazy pictures and stayed up late eating junk food, talking and laughing. no matter how old we are, we still need girls nights.

- our first niece, sophia joyce cornwell, was born on march 15th! we were so excited to go visit her and introduce bella to her new cousin!

- nick's birthday extravaganza. just a few friends went out to--you guessed it--eno's pizza in the bishop arts district. man, we miss that place.

april
- road trip to houston for some family time! my cousins and aunt live there, and my mom&dad, and gret and jude flew down for the weekend. so.much.fun.

- final four! nick, dad and i got to go down to reliant stadium to check out all of the final four festivities. it was so special; my dad and i have loved watching march madness together for years. one of my favorite memories from this past year.

- road trip to tyler to stay with one of my longtime best friends, hannah and her sweet family!

- the obligatory "it's april; put your child in a patch of bluebonnets and take a picture" picture. couldn't help it. adorable.

- easter. service at our church, irving bible church, where the theme was "we have hope in all of our trials... because he is alive." i've been reminded of that service so many times in recent days. because he lives, we can face tomorrow.

may
- my first mother's day. nick took me to brunch at daddy jacks and we had a picnic with his family at lake grapevine. perfect day. love, love, love being a mama! especially to my sweet bella grace.

- may 19, our sweet girl turned ONE! we had a vintage garden birthday party for her; our apartment was packed with friends and family. such a special time!

- on may 28, we pulled out of dallas and headed north to our new home in maine. our friends, matt&camille and candace made the journey with us; it was a blast!

june
- bampy happy to be with both of his grandkids! he was always saying "hey, take a picture!" so here's one of those times...

- we took our friends everywhere in our new home state... saw lots of coastal scenery, quaint villages and ate lots and lots of seafood and other new england treats. such a great time!

- one of the summer's highlights: watching the mavericks beat the heat. there was lots of loud celebration noise coming from nick, dad and i on that night and the days to follow...

july
- lots and lots of pool time. it was hot; not as hot as texas, but still. h-o-t.

- fourth of july! spent it with the family, went to a band concert in the park and ended the day with smores and fireworks.

- our first house! nick&i spent lots of hot july afternoons at our new house painting and peeling wallpaper. nick always had country music blaring and we stopped many times in the middle of our work to daydream about all that was to come for us in this new home of ours.

- a highlight of many-a-summer is when the farringtons come up from georgia to visit. this summer was extra special with the babies and as we now know, our last visit with dad there. we always have so much fun, but this year was even more so.

august
- bella's dedication in our new church, the rock.

- i don't have pictures for this, but god's provision of jobs for both nick and i! yay!
- bella and i took a road trip to boston to hang with two of my best friends from high school and their kiddos. we had a blast! a trip to ikea, a girls night out for the mamas, and bella's first trip to the beach. so fun.

- nick&i took a weekend getaway for our third anniversary a little late this year. we were traveling from texas to maine on our anniversary, so we celebrated in august this year! a leisurely drive around the coast, lunch at a hole-in-the-wall seafood joint on the water, and then a stay at the lucerne inn (where we were married) including a delicious dinner and brunch the next morning. so thankful for this man that asked me to marry him.

- our last family photos together with my dad taken in my parents backyard. they turned out beautiful; so thankful we have them.

- we found out august 18th that we were pregnant with our second, emmy faith. bella made the announcement to all of our family wearing this shirt:

september
- we moved into our new house labor day weekend! lots of work, but we were so excited.
- apple picking! nick & bella's first time.

october
- road trip to see bampy in the hospital in boston... bella and jude had their first sleepover in a hotel.

- first snow: the day before halloween. the minute bella woke up, we brought her to the window. she couldn't stop looking outside.

- halloween! our sweet little strawberry.

november
- aunt jayne got to come stay for a while to help out while bampy was in the hospital. it was a huge blessing to have her company during such a hard time. bella loved getting to hang with her.

- my sweet dad went to be with jesus just a few minutes before midnight the day before thanksgiving. many precious moments spent by his bedside... so incredibly proud to be his daughter. so immensely blessed that he was my dad.

december
- 24 weeks with our sweet baby emmy on christmas eve.

- christmastime was hard, but special this year as i was reminded anew of the hope that we have in jesus. bella especially enjoyed christmas this year (although not while on santa's lap)...

thank you, lord jesus, for all the blessings of this past year... and for your grace to sustain us through the tough times. you have been with us every step of the way, and will continue leading us as we step into two thousand and twelve, anticipating all that you have in store for us.

happy new year. may it be a *blessed* one.