tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72522512375188012342024-02-18T17:42:32.037-08:00Loving on the EdgeA journey in living dearly loved...DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-46033043561894064802014-07-22T15:47:00.000-07:002014-07-22T15:47:01.481-07:00A New Look and a New Site<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've got a new look and so does my blog! Introducing <a href="http://lovingontheedge.com/">lovingontheedge.com</a><br />
... and me permanently without glasses! Please make note of the new URL, as this blog site will no longer be updated. My previous blogs and story are on the new site too.<br />
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So grateful to everyone who has followed me for the past 4 years. I am excited and expectant for what is yet to come.<br />
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Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-92059283305567892632014-04-28T18:12:00.002-07:002014-04-29T16:51:03.760-07:00Words for the Newly Married<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I posted a wedding photo on what would have been our 6 year wedding anniversary this past Saturday. Folks were so sweet to express their sympathy; honestly, I wanted to respond back, "I'm really okay." I posted that photo in honor of a great love and to give credit to the One who has bound my heart back together again. Perhaps I should have posted this #MelissaFace picture instead!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Having been married a little less than 2 years, I'm certainly no marriage expert. However, I was invited to a dear friends' newly married group recently to share some insight on what I've learned from marriage. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I compiled it into what I'd tell my newly married self should I get to do marriage all over again. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here are 10 things I shared with them from a unique perspective of having loved deeply and lost deeply. </span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px;">Your spouse is your mission field. You will never regret the time you spend serving each other. God can use you to be the best tangible expression of His unconditional love on this earth. </span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Keep life simple, especially that first year. Don't rush into dreams and plans just because "society" starts pushing you. Trust God with the pace of your marriage.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Pursue Christ. Pursue spouse. Pray together, even when you don't feel like it. Encourage each other with verses of Scripture. Pray for your spouse as often as you think of them.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Study your spouse. Learn something new about them every day. Be curious about their differences and quirks. (Tony and I would pose questions more gently than "why...?" with the simple phrase, "Can you help me understand...?")</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Keep the honeymoon going when you return to normal life. Be playful, intentionally create moments and memories. Write love notes. Do things together. Travel. Serve together. Go out on dates. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Learn to say no, even if it's to family. Don't wait until you have children to start your own family holiday traditions. A husband and a wife are a family unit; carve out time for just the two of you.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lean into others ahead of you who have the marriage you'd like to model. Don't be afraid to ask questions or seek advice. At the same time, find community together with like-minded couples; it normalizes marriage to know you are facing struggles and tensions like every other newly married couple.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Make finances a joint effort. Talk about it. Make adjustments to accommodate each other's wirings in this area (the saver and the spender). Begin to build a network of connections. (I was so grateful for Tony's financial mentors, advisors, and team of trusted counsel. Our accountant even attended his memorial.) As much as you'll want to resist it, create a will and put life insurance in place. See it as saying to your spouse, "I love you enough to make these plans for you." </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In stress and disagreements, which will come, think of this question, "Is this how I want to remember this season?" Then grab each other up in your arms; it tends to diffuse the tension. (Tony was way better at this one than I was; he did this just days before he passed away. I will never forget it.)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-size: 17px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Savor the everyday moments. Treasure waking up together each morning and coming home to each other every night. (Out of all the amazing experiences Tony and I shared together, those two things are what I miss most.)</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Marriage is an incredible gift; I'd choose to have two years of it again rather than never having experienced it at all. Yes, it's hard at times. But it's worth it. It's worth it to not give up. It's worth it to fight for your marriage. It's worth it to keep working at it as long as you both shall live.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That's about the best advice this widow can give any newly wed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I leave you with a prayer for the journey of learning to do life as "one"...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the <b>same</b> attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with <b>one</b> mind and <b>one</b> voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." (Romans 15:5, 6 NIV)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dearly loved, and hopeful of the day when I'm newly married again,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Melissa</span></div>
<br />DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-815205298923618632014-04-16T19:44:00.002-07:002014-04-16T19:44:32.692-07:00On Suffering & Light<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It's the week before Easter. It's a busy one at church as we prepare for the biggest Sunday of the year. It's quite the opposite at home. I've freed up my week for quiet stillness, which has given way to much reflection.</div>
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I've been reflecting on the words "suffering" and "light." What a contrast these words represent when describing what Jesus experienced at the end of his time on earth...death and resurrection, Good Friday and Easter. Without one, there couldn't be the other. Without suffering on the cross, there would be no ransom for our sins. Without the Light of His resurrection, there would been no hope, no way out of darkness, no way to conquer death.</div>
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What a very stark contrast. A juxtaposition. It's one I witnessed first-hand on Good Friday a year ago. It's a day and experience that's taken a year for me to put words around. Be fore-warned, this is a heavy post.<br />
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<i>By his wounds you are healed. (1 Peter 2:24 NLT)</i></div>
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Good Friday 2013 was first time I had ever been nearly blinded by the light of the cross. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOJSlY33ELfhgcgaQ9jH7EZzlPkOviBxSkjUu2xS-Mkn5q4t3v9NCkE4WwW4_HtuVitt5MCaNQNIsqDUU-XeGjv2tUH3kVjqSjvgbX1byG1h0S5DHfG5ao7d872-J96Xk1r7aWs3X_Ng/s1600/project-passioneaster-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOJSlY33ELfhgcgaQ9jH7EZzlPkOviBxSkjUu2xS-Mkn5q4t3v9NCkE4WwW4_HtuVitt5MCaNQNIsqDUU-XeGjv2tUH3kVjqSjvgbX1byG1h0S5DHfG5ao7d872-J96Xk1r7aWs3X_Ng/s1600/project-passioneaster-3.jpg" height="174" width="320" /></a>I attended the Passion City service that Friday evening. I can't recall the content of the message, or even the set list of songs. All I vividly remember is a cross lit up with what seemed like a million lights at the top center of the stage. My weary eyes could hardly look at it, and yet it's brightness kept drawing me in. I could not escape it. I'd try to look down, yet I could feel the warmth from its bulbs on my tear-stained face. </div>
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It overwhelmed me. The light of the cross overwhelmed me. It overwhelmed my tears, my suffering, my pain that I had carried in that evening, left over from the day's events. In that moment, like never before, I understood a new depth of healing and Light that could only be found in the cross of Jesus Christ. His suffering, his wounds, for my healing, for my salvation. What a juxtaposition.</div>
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The evening began with David Crowder singing “How He Loves," the very song we sang at Tony's memorial. The weight of what I had just done hours earlier hit me hard. A wave of emotion rushed over me; I could not stop the ensuing flood of tears. I lost it. I mean, I plain lost it. Yet, I wouldn't fully realize until weeks later that my uncontrollable sobbing signified a new beginning in my journey. This was my first step of many I'd take toward healing that year.<br />
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Healing.</div>
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2010 was the last time I attended Passion's Good Friday service. It was the same day I picked up my Tony’s ashes
from the funeral home. </div>
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I’ll never forget the weight of that box. It was all that
was left of the earthly shell of a man I loved more than anyone on this earth.
That day I felt as if I was carrying every shattered hope and dream for my life
in my two hands.</div>
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It was too much.</div>
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Too much.</div>
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I took that box to my parents home. And that’s where it
remained for 3 years.</div>
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3 years.</div>
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I could not bear to pick it up again. I could not bear the
weight of how deeply I had lost.</div>
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Time.</div>
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It took 3 years to gain my strength and courage.</div>
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On the morning of Good Friday 2013, I picked up the box again. It was time for me to fulfill the last of Tony's wishes he entrusted to me. When we were married and put together our living wills, he told me that if anything ever happened to him to simply take his ashes to the North Georgia mountains; he requested no big deal be made, no fanfare. I wanted to honor that request.<br />
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So I placed the box in the same backpack Tony had carried up to Stone Mountain. I just wanted
something of his with me that day. I placed it in my car, and I headed for Blood Mountain. I
picked up one of my dearest friends, Karen, along the way. It was so fitting for her to accompany me. Words could never fully express the love and friendship she has lavished on me. The last words Tony said to her as she
and I headed out of town the weekend before he died were, “KK, take care of my
girl for me.” He would be so incredibly grateful to know she has done
immeasurably more than that.</div>
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We made the journey north up 400, past Dahlonega, to the base of a
mountain I had never traversed. It was a mountain I had always heard Tony
talking about hiking as a child. It was a mountain he loved.</div>
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It would be a fitting resting place. It would be his final resting place.</div>
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I strapped on his backpack and we began the ascent to the top. We
stopped a lot along the way. We were in no hurry. The pack was heavy, but I was
determined to carry it all the way up. We passed a lot of Appalachian Trail hikers.
I kept asking them how much further to the top. I’m sure they thought I was just one
of those lazy day-hikers; KK and I joked, “If they only knew what
we were up to.”</div>
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We finally made it to the top; there was still a little snow
on the ground. We took a few pictures, I even snapped one of two tiny twigs in the shape of a cross.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-17cwRGhbFZnDHR9sXi7HrXUIvJUr1rKxM9hrEXOBAlBsO5l4CHRkKMdAO58HBMqU7YvlGSOcIfV59C4hiuh5z8tN8FVxj0AOToFH-PqidzuP8zTo3jUotxTt3COL0k9a5sqONNVgSg/s1600/cross+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-17cwRGhbFZnDHR9sXi7HrXUIvJUr1rKxM9hrEXOBAlBsO5l4CHRkKMdAO58HBMqU7YvlGSOcIfV59C4hiuh5z8tN8FVxj0AOToFH-PqidzuP8zTo3jUotxTt3COL0k9a5sqONNVgSg/s1600/cross+2.jpg" height="320" width="236" /></a><br />
Hope. Light.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found a place over to the side. I opened up the backpack and pulled out the box I never imagined opening when I said “I do” to my husband just 5 years prior.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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This was just not how life was supposed to be.</div>
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It just was not.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat down to soak it all in. I fully realized in that moment that these were just earthly remains, the things left behind. My Tony was complete and more alive than ever before at home in heaven.</div>
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<br />
Alive.<br />
<br /></div>
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I let the ashes go.<br />
<br /></div>
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I let them go.</div>
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I let him go.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I paused for a moment. Then slowly I turned, picked up his backpack and
walked away. I looked back only once. I let go of my Tony on that mountain top and left behind every hope
and dream I had for our life together.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Karen and I started our descent, I could not help but notice how much lighter I felt. The physical weight of the ashes was gone, of course. Yet it was as if I had left the weight of my pain and suffering there too.<br />
<br />
And a few hours later, an unforgettable encounter with the brightest cross I've ever seen would be the catalyst for me to let go, to walk on, to move forward.<br />
<br />
<span class="verse v1" data-usfm="HEB.12.1" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. </span><span class="verse v2" data-usfm="HEB.12.2" style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><span class="content">We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.</span><span class="note f"></span><span class="content"> Because of the joy</span><span class="note f"></span><span class="content"> awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. (Hebrews 12:1-2 NLT) </span></span><br />
<br />
The cross and my healing.<br />
Suffering and light.<br />
<br />
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The weight of Easter; the hope of Good Friday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am so grateful for the juxtaposition.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Dearly loved,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melissa</div>
DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-32043589040798082532014-03-23T15:29:00.001-07:002014-03-23T15:32:13.887-07:00How Forever Feels<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"I wanna know how forever feels." - Kenny Chesney</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I couldn't get enough of that song in the months before our wedding day. I had finally found my "forever" in Tony.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Four years later, I've changed my thoughts on forever. My 4-year degree in widowhood and grief have taught me well that I'm just not in control of measuring time, of measuring life. I caught myself recently saying, "this is just not how I thought my forever would turn out."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Forever. Perhaps that word is best reserved for things not of this earth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Forever is for eternity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">How can it be that time can be measured here on earth, but not in heaven? Our time here is fleeting, it begins to run out the very moment of our first breathe. Our time in eternity goes on forever; it has no end.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's essentially time-less.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">His shattered watch stopped at 6pm on </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">March 23, 2010</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. That's how we knew the time of Tony's fall. That's when he entered into a new realm of time, one that only adds days, never subtracts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It's one that my Tony never lost sight of even while making the most of each day he spent on earth. I found this in his Bible recently:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvCh7KHC5IWg2ntdph3WsA-JZ6B7UjhblM-rOl8ylPw2xdML4Yp6yS6uPAJlkxWXrMl7kMSfFt5KLcg7P3BQHtCh0LQ6FWNn6AqR4QX7Z7doRSPuhyUh_C3Gmm0lsQJyULAsdjL_P5bY/s1600/one+thing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvCh7KHC5IWg2ntdph3WsA-JZ6B7UjhblM-rOl8ylPw2xdML4Yp6yS6uPAJlkxWXrMl7kMSfFt5KLcg7P3BQHtCh0LQ6FWNn6AqR4QX7Z7doRSPuhyUh_C3Gmm0lsQJyULAsdjL_P5bY/s1600/one+thing.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Our dear friends' daughter, Ruby, drew this picture below the day after Tony died. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It portrays so well what that time transfer looked like through the eyes of a child. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">She was 5 at the time and loved Tony like an uncle. Her mom </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">said she was so matter-of-fact in explaining her drawing: Tony (on the left) falling from the mountain and the angel (on the right) catching him in mid-air before hitting the ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlM45dJ9UpV5yWjTJGuH9sx2KtxCb-dAPtj5RqOwQRO-Mw4UbH1ZecmseknU5RoAMuesx4ogKeU6ayZT2U8TF_zb1DehKKiabuAAx8s0HkI6tUrgvUao1Ga0NytKjJExQlAZ-oYXUR2I/s1600/Ruby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlM45dJ9UpV5yWjTJGuH9sx2KtxCb-dAPtj5RqOwQRO-Mw4UbH1ZecmseknU5RoAMuesx4ogKeU6ayZT2U8TF_zb1DehKKiabuAAx8s0HkI6tUrgvUao1Ga0NytKjJExQlAZ-oYXUR2I/s1600/Ruby.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love the way she has him smiling as he enters into the arms of eternity.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To be absent in the body is to be present with The Lord. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I find great comfort in these verses:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (Psalm 73:23-26 NIV)</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Forever is what compels me to keep moving forward. Forever is worth all the tears, all the pain. Forever is my finish line.<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">4 years and forever to come. I miss you, Tony Edge.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Dearly loved,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Melissa</span></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-23686920673883033322014-02-05T21:47:00.000-08:002014-03-27T22:21:56.018-07:00Thirty Four...and Free<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>So if the Son sets you free, you are truly free. (John 8:36 NLT)</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">My word for 2013 was "refine." I didn't exactly choose it; it was more like God chose it for me. And refine, He did. It was as if I was gold refined in a fire; it was a painful process, but ended up so incredibly beautiful. It was a year that will always be a defining moment in my life. I am deeply grateful.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSO-DkmYREBjZnDj09wVrOOONutsNBz_49SAwfc1TZZNn7Q2xdHPjEfrPYF9eGENlA2Ux4VQ4D8D9_VKqks2iimOW-XvHTdqtb35BUxpbRnUkumw3ovcdtahUQE9DUARWwBbO84H1W-s/s1600/Melissa+Face+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZSO-DkmYREBjZnDj09wVrOOONutsNBz_49SAwfc1TZZNn7Q2xdHPjEfrPYF9eGENlA2Ux4VQ4D8D9_VKqks2iimOW-XvHTdqtb35BUxpbRnUkumw3ovcdtahUQE9DUARWwBbO84H1W-s/s1600/Melissa+Face+Collage.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></span></a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Follow that with the first holiday season that I actually enjoyed in 4 years (more thoughts on that <a href="http://lovingontheedge.blogspot.com/2014/01/i-didnt-miss-it.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>) and a birthday that may just be the fun-est on record. Here's a few of my "Melissa Face" challenge pictures for my birthday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">It's time to embrace something lighter this year. I'm ready for a lighter word for 2014. And there's no better word for that than "free." My word for 2014 is free.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">Free.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">I've taken the month of January to really consider what it would look like for me to embrace this word as a central theme in my life this year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222;">Here's what living free means to me:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will be kind to myself. I will be silly. I will make a lot of Melissa faces.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will dwell more on what God thinks about me than what people think. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will laugh at my faults instead of succumbing to the lie that I don't measure up.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will be present with people, enjoying sweet moments, no matter their simplicity or complexity.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will refuse to let my social calendar determine my self worth.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will not be held in place by my emotions, my past, or my comfort zone.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will go confidently after my dreams.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will lean into my passions, talents, and wirings, without letting lesser things distract me.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will dance, I will write, I will travel. I will prioritize time for things that make me fully alive.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will give and give generously. I will be a better steward of my time and influence. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will love widows. I will lend my voice to those in the margins.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will choose to trust God with my desire to marry again. I will run with complete abandon toward my Savior and believe Him for a new running partner to come alongside me at just the right time.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will draw inspiration from this one phrase: "I don't want to waste my life."</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will live dearly loved, fully alive, and wholly free.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here's to 34 and free.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dearly loved,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Melissa</span>DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-81399622602842843522014-01-22T20:19:00.000-08:002014-01-22T20:19:30.384-08:00I Didn't Miss It!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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This was the first holiday season in 4 years that I actually
enjoyed. I’ll consider that my very own Christmas miracle. It's the best present anyone could have wrapped up and placed under my tree.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I re-read a few of my posts from holidays past. Sheesh, I think I could have been cast to play Scrooge. But I must give grace where grace is due. I have come from the depths of sadness; I'm just so grateful I've found joy on the other side...joy that has nothing to do with my circumstances.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It's joy that has everything to do with the great work of my Healer God.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I loved what my pastor Billy (also known as the world’s greatest boss!)
prayed during our Christmas services at Buckhead Church. He asked the Lord to help us to not <i>miss</i>
Christmas. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was encouraging us to not miss Christ in the midst of the busy season. I took it in a broader sense.<br />
<br />
The Christmas season of 2013 was one I showed up for; I did not miss it. At the beginning of November, standing in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in NYC with my sweet friend Sue, I made a conscious decision that I would be fully engaged in the holiday season...and that I would choose to enjoy it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgCKiOihgeKMW7I6AS4v004tEc30zL1EyahqEGc-URF3OXsjsspYRTzYTNXYZVE_3x7jOJHPBPHn4V1GdoA_nGn78lkWWNQtM0S732f34OQWjNcwkmRrkMd98Y_PSVO1VGy_rA7tbvsE/s1600/NY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfgCKiOihgeKMW7I6AS4v004tEc30zL1EyahqEGc-URF3OXsjsspYRTzYTNXYZVE_3x7jOJHPBPHn4V1GdoA_nGn78lkWWNQtM0S732f34OQWjNcwkmRrkMd98Y_PSVO1VGy_rA7tbvsE/s1600/NY.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here's a few things that I chose to do...</div>
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<br /></div>
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I slowed down; I had nothing particular on my agenda. I
watched a lot of movies. For better or for worse, I discovered the Hallmark
channel. It seems that a good half of those movies feature stories about widows
and widowers. Perhaps I should submit my own script…as long as I get to pick the actor
I end up with!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took in moments, incredibly beautiful and powerful moments. My favorite was serving at a Night of Worship with 300 homeless men at Atlanta Mission. They sang "How He Loves" and it was all I could do to not burst into tears; Tony would have loved it.<br />
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<br />
I treasured sweet moments with my family, enjoying the presence of their company while choosing to be fully present. I found myself not dwelling on the shattered dreams of "what could have been," but instead being grateful for the incredible gifts I've been given. </div>
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I read Christmas hymns. That’s correct, I read them. A good
friend encouraged me to do so, after listening to my pre-Thanksgiving rant
about not liking the music of this festive season. I learned there’s a reason
these songs are repeated over and over again. Their words are powerful,
timeless. I even sang a few too. The one that choked me up the most was the words to <i>O Come, O Come, Emmanuel</i>. I had never noticed these verses before...verses that describe my healing so well:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Disperse the gloomy clouds of night</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And death's dark shadows put to flight.</i></div>
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<i>Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel</i></div>
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<i>Shall come to thee, O Israel.</i></div>
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I celebrated the gift that I do
life with some really amazing folks. I chose to look at my community of friends and colleagues through the lens of gratitude.</div>
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I laughed…a lot. I didn’t take myself (or this season) too seriously. I gave silly gifts. I sent silly Christmas cards. I dressed up all silly...yes, even in a blue Power Ranger suit...on stage at church...in front of thousands of people. I loved every moment.</div>
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I didn’t miss Christmas. I didn’t miss it this year. I engaged with my still-fragile but healing heart. I engaged with joy. And it ended with my very own snowfall in Denver as I wrapped up the season with my beautiful (and newly engaged...yay!) friend Tammy.</div>
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I’m so glad I didn't miss these moments, these friends, these gifts. I give all the credit to the One who gave
his only son that first Christmas.</div>
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I look forward to 2014 with joy.</div>
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Dearly loved,</div>
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Melissa</div>
<!--EndFragment-->DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-41546216195703582422013-12-12T00:00:00.000-08:002013-12-11T21:29:27.384-08:00As Yourself...<span style="color: #073763;"><span class="verse v30 selected" data-usfm="MRK.12.30"><span class="wj"><span class="content">"And you must love the L</span></span><span class="wj"><span class="sc"><span class="content">ord</span></span></span><span class="wj"><span class="content"> your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’</span><span class="note f"></span></span><span class="content"> </span></span><span class="verse v31" data-usfm="MRK.12.31"><span class="wj"><span class="content">The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor <b>as yourself</b>.’</span><span class="note f"></span><span class="content"> No other commandment is greater than these.” ~ Mark 12:30-31 NLT</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ccRyqSuvErqu7Mvj8URouHEIE6XbjScUvUpC1iXczlCO4oycO5MOklgLxrSh7nUazroBUOwgQ4qDE-j7ca5etNbT8-pEYXmhzO_F4bDidsRfDQDVScXTzH5fr1gQA5EUxLAHLKaTwZU/s1600/tony+look.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ccRyqSuvErqu7Mvj8URouHEIE6XbjScUvUpC1iXczlCO4oycO5MOklgLxrSh7nUazroBUOwgQ4qDE-j7ca5etNbT8-pEYXmhzO_F4bDidsRfDQDVScXTzH5fr1gQA5EUxLAHLKaTwZU/s200/tony+look.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
"I loved the way that he looked at you." That was the greatest compliment my mom could have ever given Tony. She could see how much he loved and cared for me just by the look in his eyes.<br />
<br />
Priceless.<br />
<br />
He took lots of pictures and videos of me over our 3 and a half years together from dating to his last days on this earth. At the time, I'd tilt my head and politely ask him to stop. I hated pictures of just myself. Those images became treasures in the aftermath of his passing. They now provide a timeless reminder of how he looked at me, how he saw me.<br />
<br />
He saw me as dearly loved.<br />
He was the catalyst for me learning to see myself that way too.<br />
<br />
This 3rd year of grief has been a turning point for me. I no longer view life through the lens of loosing Tony. Most days, my first thought in the morning is not that of being a widow. I've let go of Tony in a multitude of ways; I've let go of how life "should have been."<br />
<br />
And in it's place, I've begun to embrace what's on the other side of my loss. And what I've uncovered has been completely unexpected.<br />
<br />
I've discovered what it looks like to love myself.<br />
I've found freedom in settling into my own skin.<br />
I'm embracing myself with open and accepting arms...<br />
for the very first time in my life.<br />
<br />
Shocking, I know.<br />
<br />
A few months back, I was asked by a woman who I esteem highly for her insight and wisdom, "Melissa, how do you feel about yourself?"<br />
<br />
I quickly blurted out, "I don't like myself; most days I downright hate being me." There. I had finally said it. I had finally put words around an angst I had carried almost my entire life.<br />
<br />
Her next challenge to me was the very verses above. "What do you think about the 2nd greatest commandment from Jesus to love your neighbor <i>as yourself?</i>"<br />
<br />
It hit me like a ton of bricks. If I talked to my neighbor the way I talked to myself, I'd have no friends. How could I love my neighbor as myself if I could not honestly say that I loved myself? Years of striving to be perfect, of trying to combat the fear of never being "good enough," had taken it's toll.<br />
<br />
It all seems so simple, but my life truly changed that day. I've never been the same. I never want to be the same.<br />
<br />
I've attributed Tony over and over these last 3 and a half years for teaching me what it was like to be loved extravagantly, of how that was just a tiny taste of how my great God loves me. What I didn't realize until now is that was just the beginning. His love, even in it's brevity, instigated a freedom movement in my heart and my mind.<br />
<br />
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I've been set free to love myself, not in a self-absorbed sort of way, but through a lens of authenticity, of kindness and gentleness for myself....<i>as myself</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm finding that loving my neighbor out of this love is so much more life-giving, a natural overflow. And I'm just starting to grasp how God sees me and loves me too.<br />
<br />
So, on what would have been his 39th birthday, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to my late husband, Tony. I'm finally seeing me the way he saw me. And that is a beautiful thing. It's a beautiful beginning.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved, as myself,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-63192426582649369562013-11-19T19:24:00.001-08:002013-11-19T19:24:54.504-08:00My IdentityThis past September marks 3 years of when I hit my absolute rock-bottom in my grief journey. It took 6 months for the "bubble wrap protecting my brain" to fully unravel after Tony's death. The pain was so intense. To be quite candid, I felt as if I had nothing, absolutely nothing in life to look forward to. I was surrounded by darkness so intense I could not see any glimmer of hope.<br />
<br />
I had reached the depths of the depths.<br />
Nothing and no one on this earth could pull me out.<br />
I was in so deep, only Jesus could reach me.<br />
<br />
And He did.<br />
He has slowly pulled me out; He has set my feet on firm ground again; He has gently restored my heart and my life.<br />
He continues to heal me.<br />
He is amazing. Nothing is impossible for Him.<br />
<br />
It's hard to describe but for the last 3 and a half years, I've carried an underlying sadness. Even as I've moved forward and settled in to my new normal, it was still there. It haunted me; it caused me to falsely believe that this is how I'd feel for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
It was a different feeling than the reality that I'll always miss Tony; that he'll forever have a place in my heart. This sadness was more like a thief, slowly stealing my joy, distorting my view of the Truth.<br />
<br />
I got to a place where I was just tired of feeling sad, of letting it defeat and deflate me. I sought wise counsel, and through a series of steps that God set in place, I faced those feelings head on.<br />
<br />
3 months later, I can honestly say, the underlying sadness is gone.<br />
It's gone.<br />
<br />
Sure, I'll still have days when I'm sad; that's normal. But sadness is no longer the lens through which I view all of life. Being a widow is no longer the lens I look through either.<br />
<br />
Widowhood is a part of my story; it's not my entire story.<br />
It's not my identity either.<br />
<br />
Funny, my trip to Uganda, where I served alongside the most beautiful widows, affirmed this. Yes, I feel the Lord calling to continue to serve widows in some capacity. But it's because of verse after verse in the Bible commanding His followers to care for the widow. My story just gives me leverage and a common experience.<br />
<br />
I don't have to be a widow to care for widows. I just want to give life and love to these most precious women; I want to give them something to look forward to too.<br />
<br />
Hope.<br />
<br />
I'm more hopeful than ever before. I am expectant again that I do have things to look forward to, that my future is bright.<br />
<br />
My identity is rooted and secure in Christ. He is my identity.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-71936955621149300662013-10-22T21:04:00.005-07:002013-10-22T21:04:46.885-07:00A Page is Turned...“There comes a time when you must quit talking to God about the mountain in your life and start talking to the mountain about God.” - Mark Batterson, author of The Circle Maker<br />
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<br />
"Melissa, how are you these days?" That's the most common question I'm getting recently. So much so that I thought I'd just make it the subject of my latest post.<br />
<br />
This quote above sums it up so well. So very well.<br />
<br />
I came across it this summer as I furiously read the book I quoted above. It's timing was perfect.<br />
<br />
I can honestly say... it's a new day, a new season. A page has been turned in my story.<br />
<br />
And the theme surrounding it's fresh, new chapter is ... freedom.<br />
I have never felt more free in my entire life.<br />
Free.<br />
Only Jesus.<br />
<br />
He's orchestrated pivotal circumstances over the last 6 months that have led to this freedom. I am so in awe. I am so incredibly grateful. It brings tears to my eyes to just think about how faithful my great God is. He is IT for me. He is IT.<br />
<br />
As I've written before, I've had many a conversation with my God as I drive down I-85 South from my parents' house. I know the exact point when Stone Mountain is in clear sight. My drives over the last few months have been at either sunset or sunrise. The sky around the mountain is stunning. Just stunning.<br />
<br />
Since passing the 3 year mark of Tony's death this past March, I've noticed a shift in my words, my very attitude. I used to assume the role of victim to the mountain that was so instrumental in shattering my very life; I was quite honest in telling the Lord how I felt about it. Some days I wished an earthquake would just swallow it up.<br />
<br />
Really.<br />
<br />
Now I find myself in a posture of gratitude. I look at that mountain and can't help but tell it about my God. My very personal, gentle, healer God, who has never once abandoned me on this very hard journey. My great God who continues to restore me and my very life.<br />
<br />
I am redeemed.<br />
I've been set free.<br />
I am dearly loved by the Creator of the Universe.<br />
<br />
I am overwhelmed by what He has done and will do in my life. That's how I'm doing these days.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved, talkin' to that mountain,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-58768117649572174352013-10-15T19:13:00.000-07:002013-10-15T19:15:44.878-07:00Everything She HadI shared in my last <a href="http://lovingontheedge.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-fragrant-offering.html" target="_blank">post</a> about how for one Ugandan widow, the story of Jesus washing his disciples feet came alive as we washed hers. Our team experienced the Scriptures come alive as well.<br />
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<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">We wrapped up our Sunday afternoon with these precious women by taking photos outside the small school house. The widows immediately wanted to see their photos, to see themselves; we gathered around my iPhone, I zoomed in on each of their beautiful faces. We communicated through laughter and smiles. I thought about how often I quickly delete or untag myself from photos I don't think are "good" of myself. My sweet new friends were just happy to capture the moment, to see themselves; they did not critique their imperfections. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
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<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">I have a lot to learn.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">This was just the first lesson.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. As I turned around, I was greeted by a warm smile and an arm extended. In this sweet widow's hand were a bag of eggs.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">She spoke in English, "You are my friend. I want you to have these."</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
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<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">Eggs. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">We hugged; I thanked her. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them, but I knew I just needed to accept them. I later learned that eggs are not easily accessible or affordable in this community. She had given me a precious gift.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
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<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content">That was just the first one.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4"><span class="wj"><span class="content"><br /></span></span></span>
The next day, a beautiful widow named Angela visited us. We were surrounded by children who we were enrolling in the <a href="http://www.410bridge.org/portal/sponsor-a-child#.Ul3vPSTlXe0" target="_blank">410 Bridge Child Sponsorship Program</a>. She smiled and proudly presented us with sugar cane from her garden. Another simple, yet precious gift. Our team took a break; we watched as our driver cut the sugar cane up into bite-sized pieces. We became the brunt of laughter as we learned from the children how to chew it to get the best taste. It was fun; it was delicious!<br />
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It was the best she had to give us.<br />
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In the days following, anytime we were in the village, a widow walked to find us and bring us a gift from her garden or farm. Avocados, casava, and more eggs. They were each such kind, sincere gestures.<br />
<br />
Still, I had only begun to grasp their profound significance.<br />
<br />
It all came together for me on one of the last days in the village. We had the honor of visiting a few widows homes. We planned to pray with each of them and give them a couple mosquito nets to cover their beds at night. I had no idea what to expect.<br />
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Our bus took us down a dusty dirt road. Several members of the village's 410 Bridge Leadership Council accompanied us. These village leaders are incredible, and their vision for their community is contagious. God is doing a mighty work through them.<br />
<br />
Hope.<br />
<br />
One by one, they pointed out widow's home after widow's home.<br />
<br />
I was overwhelmed. This community has been ravaged by HIV and the affects of limited access to clean water.<br />
<br />
We divided up into small groups. I followed my teammates up to the first home where we were greeted by the gentle smile of a little girl. It was a welcome distraction from the poverty that lay in front of us.<br />
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We greeted the gracious widow and she invited us into her tiny house made from mud and what looked like bamboo sticks. She was proud of her humble home where she raised 4 grandchildren on her own. We walked back outside and presented her with the mosquito nets. She embraced us and thanked us in her language.<br />
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I began to walk away, heart-broken. It was at that point I noticed her small garden to the side of her home.<br />
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I thought to myself, "This is how she provides for herself and her grandkids. This is what she lives on."<br />
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This is everything she has.<br />
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I thought about all those gifts we had been given throughout the week, from all our new friends who were widows. They most likely have a garden just like this one.<br />
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And they gave away the very best of their gardens to our team. They gave to us out of the little they had to live on.<br />
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These very verses came alive in that moment:<br />
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<span class="verse v1" data-usfm="LUK.21.1">"As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. </span><span class="verse v2" data-usfm="LUK.21.2">He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. </span><span class="verse v3" data-usfm="LUK.21.3"><span class="wj"><span class="content">“Truly I tell you,”</span></span><span class="content"> he said, </span><span class="wj"><span class="content">“this poor widow has put in more than all the others.</span></span><span class="content"> </span></span><span class="verse v4" data-usfm="LUK.21.4">All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” (</span>Luke 21: 1-4 NIV)<br />
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What a beautiful sacrifice, what a fragrant offering. I am forever grateful.<br />
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Dearly loved, for widows,<br />
Melissa<br />
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Special thanks to my roommate for our Uganda trip, Tammy, who took these amazing photographs.DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-33419085879055132013-10-01T15:59:00.001-07:002013-10-10T17:35:38.924-07:00A Fragrant OfferingThe night before I left for Uganda, I made a last-minute trip to Trader Joe's. I picked up a couple of my favorite lavender soaps and salt scrubs.<br />
<br />
It cost me $15.<br />
The return on my investment...priceless.<br />
<br />
It was Sunday afternoon when we opened our supply bag in the Ugandan village of Kaihura, about a 4 hour, bumpy ride to the west of capital city Kampala. I was instantly greeted by that sweet, familiar scent of lavender.<br />
<br />
I walked into a small school room, dimly lit by only it's windows. What is the size of a traditional classroom in the States holds up to 80 students here. This Sunday afternoon, it was filled with 40 of the most beautiful women I've ever met.<br />
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They were all widows, specially invited to gather together. Some were old, some younger than me. We spoke different languages. I spoke through a translator. We didn't really need to speak anything at all. Our faces told our stories, every line, every wrinkle, every smile, every scar.<br />
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Every tear.<br />
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I had prepared a few notes, written down a few verses of Scripture to share with them. But, God scripted my words. I began by telling them I was a widow too. Suddenly, the miles, the culture, anything that made us different, melted away. We connected in that moment.<br />
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It was bittersweet, yet beautiful.<br />
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I shared my story of losing my husband; I shared how our great God had walked with me in every season, a time for mourning, a time for healing, and a time for moving forward. I encouraged them that no matter what season we are in, our God is the Defender of Widows. He is FOR us.<br />
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Then I asked if anyone wanted to share their stories.<br />
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One by one, these precious women raised their hands. They stood to their feet, and they told me the most heart-breaking details of how they lost their husbands, how some had lost children, how they felt abandoned and forgotten by their very community. After the first few, I honestly didn't know if I could hear anymore. God prompted me to look each one in the eyes and just listen.<br />
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It was as if for the very first time, someone allowed them to share, someone gave them honor and a place to be heard. Someone gave them a voice.<br />
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I was taken back to 3 years of a prayer that would keep me up some nights: "God, I wanna be a voice for the widows."<br />
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Surreal.<br />
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I ended our time in prayer and in sharing my life verse, Ephesians 5:1-2, where we are called to be dearly loved children of God. I recited in their language, "You are dearly loved."<br />
<br />
Then, we had jugs of water and basins brought in. Two incredible ladies from our team joined me; we kneeled down, lavender soap and salts in hand, and 3 by 3, we washed each widow's feet.<br />
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The aroma will forever remind me of this unforgettable moment.<br />
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As we finished, one of the widows stood up to thank us. She told us that she had always heard of the story in the Bible of Jesus washing His disciples feet, but she never thought anyone would do this for her. She said that we had made these verses in the Bible come alive.<br />
<br />
Come alive.<br />
<br />
I could not have asked or imagined that response; it was Jesus, only Jesus. I'm so humbled to have been a part, to have the Lord take a simple act of love and transform it into such a fragrant offering. To Him belongs all the glory.<br />
<br />
I extend my sincerest thank you to our trip leader, Sherry Kovak, and 410 Bridge staff member, Amy Todd, who orchestrated the details to make this experience possible. I will be forever grateful.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQOVdIGSoLExz4DaHIspAwNdx-rrpUf66ZQ8GNXcIBhyc9mNZrH1ziRYUaOsYS90ZSZcJ3XxfU3CMvPcOJ2ctBnWmdL63N8PGXq_G0sAE024kmn0kYXYl2NJmpGo-qRWJcIMw-hEUqyQ/s1600/widow+group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQOVdIGSoLExz4DaHIspAwNdx-rrpUf66ZQ8GNXcIBhyc9mNZrH1ziRYUaOsYS90ZSZcJ3XxfU3CMvPcOJ2ctBnWmdL63N8PGXq_G0sAE024kmn0kYXYl2NJmpGo-qRWJcIMw-hEUqyQ/s400/widow+group.jpg" width="400" /></a>More stories to come...<br />
<br />
Dearly loved,<br />
Melissa<br />
<br />DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-53450413411942547042013-09-08T21:10:00.001-07:002013-10-10T17:35:56.386-07:00For Uganda<br />
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This coming Thursday, I board a plane to fulfill a prayer 3 years in the making. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am so excited. Uganda, here I come. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvubjadLN4_k9ItaJxgGgS6MhjZKus0DeXiSsoRBruw375gINf9IG5CHFl6Nowl1fqCfuwOclve9Nf-IunbBXHZnucpBd0RPmoQyCCGjFKFnpuf4Y7mZriyHc8MaavaZUJVNoOPd7jcB0/s1600/UgandaMap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvubjadLN4_k9ItaJxgGgS6MhjZKus0DeXiSsoRBruw375gINf9IG5CHFl6Nowl1fqCfuwOclve9Nf-IunbBXHZnucpBd0RPmoQyCCGjFKFnpuf4Y7mZriyHc8MaavaZUJVNoOPd7jcB0/s320/UgandaMap.jpg" width="262" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a defining moment for me in August of 2010 where this prayer began. The "bubble wrapped fog" of the early stages of my grief was beginning to wear off; darkness so painful I could not imagine was setting in. I was overwhelmed by the thought that I had nothing in this life to look forward to. I lifted my eyes up to the Lord in the middle of a sermon by Louie Giglio and boldly asked Him to give me a glimpse of something yet to come in my life. Something, anything, to point me toward purpose and light out of this dark pit of despair.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just days later, I was directed to <a href="http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/health/2010-06-23-un-widows-poverty_N.htm?csp=YahooModule_News">an article in USA Today</a> regarding the "Plight of the Widow" internationally. A seed was planted; I knew I was to leverage my story, my resources, my Hope in Jesus as an advocate and a voice for widows and women.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">God continues to affirm and expand that vision; it's now time to take the first step: to go and see. And Uganda is at the top of this list.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I'm heading out with a team of 9 from <a href="http://goglobalx.org/" target="_blank">North Point Ministries</a> and <a href="http://www.410bridge.org/portal/" target="_blank">410 Bridge</a> from September 12-22. The most important thing that I'm carrying with me are my two open hands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I don't know all that God will do through this trip, but I know what He is able to do...and it's immeasurably more that I could ask or </span><span style="color: #222222;">imagine. My prayer for these days is that my posture remains open-handed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGQWK0PCzFS343Cwf3EfA2fllu0f1stY_DqovQE8CgW80SQuhSi21klbIZgE0-1YVbD0ddzoy71WxhoEDoefQArlN8rChCxxPorTZrQwL_HHpjBTHaaaDnT0KKX39RCNxTVRRwtnKrnY/s1600/open+handed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGQWK0PCzFS343Cwf3EfA2fllu0f1stY_DqovQE8CgW80SQuhSi21klbIZgE0-1YVbD0ddzoy71WxhoEDoefQArlN8rChCxxPorTZrQwL_HHpjBTHaaaDnT0KKX39RCNxTVRRwtnKrnY/s200/open+handed.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGQWK0PCzFS343Cwf3EfA2fllu0f1stY_DqovQE8CgW80SQuhSi21klbIZgE0-1YVbD0ddzoy71WxhoEDoefQArlN8rChCxxPorTZrQwL_HHpjBTHaaaDnT0KKX39RCNxTVRRwtnKrnY/s1600/open+handed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I do know that our team will be working alongside the leader in the Ugandan village of Kaihura to introduce the community to 410 Bridge. This is a brand new partnership, and we are deeply honored to be one of the first teams to go. Folks we will get to meet while we are there include widows, business leaders, teenagers and orphans. I am already convinced they are the most beautiful people; I can't wait to meet each and every one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Did I mention...I'm so excited!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Those who know me well know that this trip is a big step for me in a multitude of ways. I ask you to pray and to pray BIG for our team, for Kaihura, and for me. I am believing our Great God to take care of every single detail. I am trusting that any work, any words, anything that happens through me, is a direct overflow of the work God is doing in my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm boldly claiming Phillipians 1:6:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="verse v6 selected" data-usfm="PHP.1.6" style="font-family: inherit;">"being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you [in me too!] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."</span></div>
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<span class="verse v6 selected" data-usfm="PHP.1.6" style="font-family: inherit;">Dearly loved, for Uganda,</span></div>
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<span class="verse v6 selected" data-usfm="PHP.1.6" style="font-family: inherit;">Melissa</span></div>
DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-7214743590987022232013-08-05T07:16:00.002-07:002013-10-10T17:36:04.782-07:00Dear Mom & Dad...An Open Letter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNL6DcJUm7e3u44QF48xyKb0Zv_L53Z0kw1A7mse0NDr1MQV15A_6AHJRQjoY4joKtZJMkqfR-1Yrd9uTwEh6R3nP5b_vNiz1N8ld2CA-_eE9bwK4JveERZuqnnG2tF2VhG8ValYHhHA/s1600/532975_564000123455_774039831_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNL6DcJUm7e3u44QF48xyKb0Zv_L53Z0kw1A7mse0NDr1MQV15A_6AHJRQjoY4joKtZJMkqfR-1Yrd9uTwEh6R3nP5b_vNiz1N8ld2CA-_eE9bwK4JveERZuqnnG2tF2VhG8ValYHhHA/s320/532975_564000123455_774039831_n.jpg" width="225" /></a><i>Today is my parents' 41st wedding anniversary. I am so incredibly grateful. As a thank you to them for the incredible blessing and legacy they give my brother and I each year when August 5th rolls around, I thought I'd write them an open letter.</i><br />
<br />
Dear Mom and Dad,<br />
<br />
This past Sunday at church I stood in front of hundreds of kids and told them with bold confidence that they could trust God no matter what, that I can trust God no matter what. I believe that because you first modeled it for me.<br />
<br />
I look at my life now and how my relationship with Jesus has influenced everything, literally every single thing. I can thank you for that too.<br />
<br />
Your faith has left my life forever changed.<br />
<br />
Sure, I've thanked you over the years for walking alongside me through the big events of life...attending hours of dance recitals, looking on proudly as your little over-achiever walked across graduation stages and earned every award imaginable, moving me 9 hours from home for my first big girl job, and rejoicing with a heart full of love for Tony and I on our wedding day. These are just a few.<br />
<br />
You never left my side the day that life, as we knew it, shattered within a matter of hours. You grieved the loss of your son-in-law in silence, behind closed doors, so you could put on a brave face for me. I was asked recently how I made it through that first year. It was Jesus. But it was His strength flowing through you to help pull me through.<br />
<br />
I've done a lot of reflection over the past year, as the intense season of my grief has passed. It's like I'm rediscovering myself, or maybe actually understanding myself for the first time.<br />
<br />
I'm finding myself revisiting my early years. And that's where I landed on my greatest discovery, my greatest experience as a child that has literally carried me into my present. Sure, those formative years were seasoned with hardship, lots of moving around, and lots of unpleasant places in South Georgia. Yet, had life been easy, I would not have learned the Truth I mentioned above. I still remember the day when you both decided to go into ministry, and I remember that no matter where that journey took us as a family, for better or worse, your faith in Jesus never wavered. You trusted God. Period. No strings attached.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPoSlee_vFpJVUaJbfF6Dg86-rLrgkLsF77Lyui_6eg4etl3zZHoLn4fnsIXM01yBMae0mKhKTuRGM7ZRa5EPNWqJgfpaVqZqColutm2lcv_c_HthsQTg1iSxD_ryR4-3A1WPjRfK9QM/s1600/fam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPoSlee_vFpJVUaJbfF6Dg86-rLrgkLsF77Lyui_6eg4etl3zZHoLn4fnsIXM01yBMae0mKhKTuRGM7ZRa5EPNWqJgfpaVqZqColutm2lcv_c_HthsQTg1iSxD_ryR4-3A1WPjRfK9QM/s320/fam.jpg" width="320" /></a>I'm not sure there's a greater lesson you could have lived out for your children. And there aren't adequate words to express my gratitude.<br />
<br />
Thank you for loving and caring for Michael and I so well, past, present and future. Thank you for remaining faithful to each other in the good times and bad. Thank you for keeping your eyes on Jesus, for allowing Him to use you to influence your children. Thank you for your legacy.<br />
<br />
I wish you the happiest of wedding anniversaries...and many more to come.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved, with a heart full of love and gratitude,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-25822914656484060722013-03-22T20:03:00.002-07:002013-10-10T17:36:27.807-07:003 Years Later...A Prayer From the Journey<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Three years today. I never dreamed I would have made it this far on a journey of so much heartache and pain. My prayer below depicts the honest cries of my heart along this hard road. This was shared last fall as part of a sermon by my incredible boss and pastor, Billy. You can watch the entire message <a href="http://www.buckheadchurch.org//messages/owned/part-2" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTlA6wC8BF8aAcLJF21EpqWInnUIWok0oVgMurwin3shqeAgOtd5jawfFpx1hpVpABOg942SlAK7sSKELSVZN3pUU1tuhltHAG2bD5rMRaNoiK1Kza9slhENv5F-egPl9sAaeICYPMv9w/s1600/Tony&Mel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTlA6wC8BF8aAcLJF21EpqWInnUIWok0oVgMurwin3shqeAgOtd5jawfFpx1hpVpABOg942SlAK7sSKELSVZN3pUU1tuhltHAG2bD5rMRaNoiK1Kza9slhENv5F-egPl9sAaeICYPMv9w/s320/Tony&Mel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"I can do all THIS through Christ who gives me strength." ~ Phil. 4:13</div>
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<i>God,</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Here I kneel beside my bed again, a place so empty without
my Tony. I miss him. I miss us.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Tonight, my heart aches so much it physically hurts. I’ve
never felt such heaviness in my soul. I’m desperate for you to relieve it, even
just a little. Can you just sit with me a while and lift the pain? </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>The ironic thing is that day after day well-meaning folks
keep telling me I’m so strong. I feel like a big imposter because the reality
is I am not. I’m weak, Lord. I’m so weak. I’ve got nothing left, I’m barely
hanging on. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>So I beg you, Lord, please be my strength. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>These same folks keep asking me what I’m going to do now, in
the aftermath of my tragedy. My honest answer is “I don’t know.” My life is in
shambles; my dreams are shattered. I’m still reeling from the question, “How
could the entire trajectory of my life change in a matter of seconds?”</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I can’t even think past these next few minutes, Lord, much
less the days ahead. I’m overwhelmed by my circumstances. I’m so scared. I
don’t want to face this tough road alone. I need you.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>I need you to meet me in my fear. I need you to meet me just
where I am. Though I don't see the end of this journey or what is on the
"other side" of my pain, I know you do. Give me courage. Be my
courage. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>And in this moment, as I fear another sleepless night, give
me courage to just crawl into bed. Should I awake sobbing, be there to hold my
hand, be as close as my next breath. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>And for tomorrow, give me the grace to rise out of bed, put
one foot in front of the other and just walk. Help me trust you to handle the
rest. Help me to trust you to handle even the tiniest details of my day.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Thank you for being big enough to know my every need before
I even ask. But thank you even more that you speak to me in the quietest,
smallest whispers of your voice…”I am with you. I am for you. You are dearly
loved, Melissa.”</i></div>
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Amen. Amen. Amen.</div>
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Dearly loved,</div>
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Melissa</div>
<!--EndFragment-->DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-28555685904463050152013-03-20T19:02:00.002-07:002013-10-10T17:36:38.863-07:00He Washed My FeetI vividly remember the first time I encountered Tony's feet. We had barely been dating a month. One night we were sitting next to each other on the couch at his house watching a movie, and he had taken his shoes and socks off. All the sudden, I felt him nudge his feet up under my leg.<br />
<br />
Mind you, he had yet to make a move on me otherwise, no hand-holding, no arm around me, nothing other than that awkward Christian side hug at the end of our dates. He was such the gentleman, and I respected him so much for that.<br />
<br />
Apparently feet did not count. My face informed him otherwise. I reassured him that I liked him, I did not like feet. Period.<br />
<br />
Yet, I grew to love those feet. I learned that one of the ways to love him was to allow him to put his often ice-cold feet under my legs to warm them.<br />
<br />
Love. Feet.<br />
<br />
I'll never forget the day he washed mine.<br />
<br />
It was the afternoon of our wedding rehearsal & dinner. I had spent the day with all my best girlfriends, having a blast. I received a call from him to plan to be at the rehearsal 30 minutes early.<br />
<br />
Early? I've never been early a day in my life; I was already behind, entertaining friends, finishing up last minute honeymoon packing. I didn't have time to be early.<br />
<br />
He asked me to trust him that it'd be well worth it.<br />
<br />
When I arrived, my soon-to-be husband was nowhere in sight. Instead I was met by our sweet wedding coordinator who ushered me inside the old Southern home where we were married and into a private room. Tony was there waiting for me, a basin of water and a towel on the floor.<br />
<br />
He gave me a beautiful flower and proceeded to read the verses in Scripture where Jesus washed the disciples feet and challenges them to do likewise. Tony said to me, "Melissa, this is to symbolize how I want to serve you all the days of our marriage." Then he knelt down and washed my feet.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyY-boCURWxp-mYh0Z00Z9FpXvOdp-cji4xHUd86GaOuebVVQyDEKcequmXlUMdP0eAPn2WO7SF7CIkDC1GnvDXfMEVCroFAtE6wdSaPE5Th1Dp0s8Vks3asKmU4eXiK6DRLFkUhy7zkY/s1600/Tony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyY-boCURWxp-mYh0Z00Z9FpXvOdp-cji4xHUd86GaOuebVVQyDEKcequmXlUMdP0eAPn2WO7SF7CIkDC1GnvDXfMEVCroFAtE6wdSaPE5Th1Dp0s8Vks3asKmU4eXiK6DRLFkUhy7zkY/s200/Tony.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
I can honestly say that he spent the rest of his days from that moment forward (and many more before that day) serving me with such selfless love and sacrifice. He washed my feet daily in more ways I could ask or imagine.<br />
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I am forever grateful.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-36623676277084815502013-02-18T22:05:00.000-08:002013-10-10T17:36:51.445-07:007 Things I've Learned from Sadness<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="verse v3" data-usfm="ECC.7.3"><span class="content">"Sorrow is better than laughter, </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">for sadness has a refining influence on us." ~Ecclesiastes 7:3 (NLT)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7C2AMgk5JnpBU9LliUaI3TRThICsnn3yoFzUDP0PetpeymXM-pvUOo_6MCLhTpAdo3t7hcQctJxuSDmzkl1hhZPI3r6njLNSr7NCpgubLVzmiHv8pmMx_KhlztneecHmPWXjMGwJAiA/s1600/January.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7C2AMgk5JnpBU9LliUaI3TRThICsnn3yoFzUDP0PetpeymXM-pvUOo_6MCLhTpAdo3t7hcQctJxuSDmzkl1hhZPI3r6njLNSr7NCpgubLVzmiHv8pmMx_KhlztneecHmPWXjMGwJAiA/s200/January.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Sadness...I'm sure everyone just could not wait to click on the title of this post. Ha! I don't know about you, but more often than not, I just want to sweep that word right under the rug. </span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Sadness...it's not one of those socially acceptable topics of conversation. It makes us uncomfortable; it makes things heavy and hard. I mean, when's the last time you asked someone how they were doing and instead of the obligatory "I'm fine," they said, "well, I'm sad, how are you?"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">And for those few folks to whom you might actually admit that you're sad, they almost always have that knee-jerk reaction of, "why?" I mean, you never ask folks why they said they're "fine." Why sad? It just reinforces the unspoken rule: sadness is not okay.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I've caught myself saying a few times over this last year, "I just don't want to be sad anymore." It's as if I viewed sadness as an item to check off my "to do" list...that I'd finally wake up one day and no longer face this emotion that nobody ever wants in their life. </span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Yet, the Creator of the Universe, the Author of Life, who created all emotions, saw fit to make this emotion too. And when I encountered the verses above through a memorial service a few weeks ago, I realized for the first time that perhaps, just perhaps, sadness is not so bad after all. As the writer of Ecclesiastes says, perhaps sadness, if we allow it, can have a "refining influence" on us.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Refining influence.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="q1">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">So, I set out to determine just what sadness has taught me, how sadness has refined and influenced me. Here are 7 things I've learned from sadness...</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<ol>
<li style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I've learned the great value in being vulnerable. Sadness </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">turns my heart inward to what is broken inside of me. Most of the inspiration behind my writing comes through tears, through a heart made tender because I've allowed myself to feel raw pain. I'd much rather come across as "fun Melissa" all the time, yet I have found that influence sometimes comes through pulling off my bandaids to expose my battle wounds and scars. It also shines a huge light on my Healer, my Redeemer, who continues to create beautiful things out of the ashes of my loss.</span></span></span></li>
<li style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I've learned that sadness gives me a lens through which I can see the mess of life, a lens that breaks my heart with empathy for others. It gives me the courage to lean in when others are hurting instead of shying away with excuses like "I don't have the right thing to say" or "I don't know what to say." That's when God speaks through me; His words trump mine every time.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">I've learned t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">hat sadness doesn't have to steal my hope and joy. I've learned </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">to remain open-handed with it. I can't always control when waves of sadness strike, just as much as I can't always control bursts of pure joy. I've found in the "random-ness" of either extreme come the biggest hellos from God, and sometimes even the best stories that I could not make up if I tried. With this has come the freedom to </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">embrace the simple joys of life, to love laughter, and to place all my Hope in the One who is the Blessed Controller of my life.</span></span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I've learned that sadness is not my enemy. Sure, the enemy, Satan, can use it to destroy me or distract me just as much as he can use my happiness. I have a choice in how I respond to sadness and how I respond to the emotional chaos that often accompanies it. I can choose to lean hard into the Truth of God's promises or choose to be tossed around in feelings that distort my view of God and my circumstances.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I've learned that sadness, despite what society thinks, is okay. That I will not dwell in it all day, every day. I finally understand the verse in Psalm 30:5, "weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." I received comments from well-meaning folks who assumed that I just cried all the time in those early days; they were shocked to see me smile in a photo again. Really? How could our Great God, who is crazy in love with us, not ease the sorrow with at least a few bright spots of joy? Who could survive grief otherwise? </span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">With that said, I've also learned that sadness is not something to walk through alone. I've learned to seek out those safe people who will not tuck their tail and run when I honestly admit my emotions. These folks have been so kind to let me feel and cry and be present in my sorrow, but with an eye to ensure that I don't get stuck in my feelings for too long. I've also found great help through a grief counselor...more on that in another post, but I'll just say, it was one of the best decisions I've made in my grief journey.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I've learned what it's like to long for heaven. I've grasped the Biblical concept that this world is not our home. Our home in heaven will have no tears, it will have no sorrow; sadness is not welcome there. So I press on, I endure sadness on this side of heaven, with great expectation that when I am called home and finally turn my eyes to physically see Jesus, I will be turning my back on sadness for eternity.</span></span></li>
</ol>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">And that's just about all I've got to say about sadness.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Dearly loved, whether sad or happy,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Melissa</span>DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-7900038216925020282013-01-29T20:41:00.001-08:002013-10-10T17:37:13.438-07:00A Weary Widow & A White FlagIt seems I've gotten yet another holiday season under my belt. My "holidays" run from Thanksgiving through my birthday. If I can be completely honest, I feel as if I've been spanked; yes, spanked. In many ways it was as hard as the first.<br />
<br />
And, that caught me by surprise.<br />
<br />
But apparently, it's "normal" for some years to be harder than others. "Normal"...yeh, there's nothing "normal" about the holidays for this worn-down, weary widow.<br />
<br />
Weary. I had myself a weary little Christmas, weary little holidays, weary birthday. I've been asked for the last several weeks how my holidays were. I answered quickly, "they were okay, they were quiet." Apparently, that's not normal things to call holidays either. Sigh.<br />
<br />
I finally feel like I'm digging out. I am glad to be in a new year...to good ol' 2013. But I can't fully embrace a new year without taking time to reflect on 2012...and my word for last year...<br />
<br />
Release.<br />
<br />
I started 2012 with a new song that quickly became one of my favorites, Passion's "White Flag." Singing it always brought images of my hands lifted high, holding a white banner, eyes lifted to heaven, freely giving myself to my Great God. Surrender.<br />
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When I chose the word release, I had no idea what that really meant I would surrender this year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIjB9Yo0JE95PkVGRhypOCdW1FLLR9dCjwBXKvwBrEM7Q4_exbQoQ336Lu7aKXWBF7CJ8-X5jILy9zuhU97k5bd8_fuIpMS1o50roByomwJ2czeDRbOpjXsMANK86gRjGV6ejIkE2up8/s1600/car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIjB9Yo0JE95PkVGRhypOCdW1FLLR9dCjwBXKvwBrEM7Q4_exbQoQ336Lu7aKXWBF7CJ8-X5jILy9zuhU97k5bd8_fuIpMS1o50roByomwJ2czeDRbOpjXsMANK86gRjGV6ejIkE2up8/s200/car.jpg" width="200" /></a>I let go of two big things tied to Tony. One was his Accord that I'd been driving. It was the same car Tony picked me up in on our first date, the car we rode away in on our wedding night. It carried a lot of memories, yet, it was needing more maintenance than this non-car dealing widow could handle. Plus, after experiencing first hand my friend totaling her car last January, I just could not bear the thought of something happening to Tony's car. I wanted to choose to let go. Last April, I drove it to the dealership; I drove away in a new white car, with his blue car in my rearview mirror. Release.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEclU8eQpIzT8Esxg6Y6HPF33Vp2AQvsSrWGRZVmimAxtYKqPv1Hutc_bzLZpbSUkp323vGAlSiXD0lLSjrPuzVesM0jcoApcizkz3gjtVnQP5nIAfJ2tl7TYlF57WPwpMlIBSCEpZyv4/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEclU8eQpIzT8Esxg6Y6HPF33Vp2AQvsSrWGRZVmimAxtYKqPv1Hutc_bzLZpbSUkp323vGAlSiXD0lLSjrPuzVesM0jcoApcizkz3gjtVnQP5nIAfJ2tl7TYlF57WPwpMlIBSCEpZyv4/s200/house.jpg" width="200" /></a>The second was our fixer-upper house we had bought just 2 months before Tony's fall. It quickly became the old ball-n-chain. No offense to my husband, but that house needed all of both of us to keep it afloat. The things I had to deal with over the last 2 and a half years, you just can't make that stuff up. It was put on the market in early August and sold in early October. Only God. I drove by one last time a couple days before closing; the phrase that came to mind was "shattered dream." Still, I felt a huge sense of relief and release of a burden. No regrets. Release.<br />
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In the midst of these 2 milestones, I began a program through our church called "Hope." It's one on one mentoring that led me through a process of rediscovering and redefining my identity in Christ. I had no idea how life-changing it would be. It's as if I came to the "other side" of my grief and to the end of myself. I was finally willing to deal with ME, my insecurities, my false beliefs that spring up when I'm trying to operate apart from Christ. It was ugly, sure, for these beliefs have been ingrained for decades. It's a work in progress, yet I continue to find an indescribable freedom in replacing what is false with the Truth of who I am in Christ. Release.<br />
<br />
Still, there was an another battle waging war in my heart. And that's the one that really "spanked" me the most. I hit the 2 year mark of my grief last March and this sense of entitlement encroached. Can't I be happy now? Haven't I grieved enough? I don't want to be sad anymore. Can't I take control of the reins of my life? Haven't I earned that? I mean, culture would just wanna find a big bow to tie on my story and send me on my way. There were so many days I wanted that too.<br />
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So about halfway through the year, this hit me: "It's hard to surrender to what I can't see." So go the lyrics to yet another song that was a big part of my year, "Whatever You're Doing" by Sanctus Real.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpFMiiltDWsnw18WwVey42a-e3C1RB4rfSB_Sjpiu40sIDrxmwYdEjFcB4BZoPRNdwsj9rqTdjeGyKfr0H86w9t35ox6Oj-eIpezP6hJ0wHV-uV9_LMYHtcaV7JEIkUWeVgYivoPX_xk/s1600/cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivpFMiiltDWsnw18WwVey42a-e3C1RB4rfSB_Sjpiu40sIDrxmwYdEjFcB4BZoPRNdwsj9rqTdjeGyKfr0H86w9t35ox6Oj-eIpezP6hJ0wHV-uV9_LMYHtcaV7JEIkUWeVgYivoPX_xk/s200/cross.jpg" width="135" /></a>Surrender. God was calling me to surrender without seeing what's ahead. He was calling me to release my story, my future, my hopes and dreams, whether happy or sad, to Him...to the One who sees. Because He sees the bigger picture, the greater impact of my life fully surrendered to Him. I slowly opened my hands and my heart, and He used me in spite of my fear, my apprehension, my days when I told him bluntly that "I didn't sign up for this." He's so good like that. And the ways He's intersected my story with the lives of others over the past year, it's been nothing short of a beautiful collision.</div>
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And that, that, is what gives me the strength, the hope, the peace, to raise my white flag, to raise my banner, tattered and torn, to my great God to use for His Glory.</div>
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Release.</div>
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Dearly loved, with open hands,</div>
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Melissa</div>
<br />DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-23343599539735187892013-01-23T21:27:00.002-08:002013-10-10T17:37:23.788-07:00Fully Known...<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">"For
now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to
face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully
known." ~ 1 Cor. 13:12</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">I longed for heaven yesterday. Yep, it was my birthday. I was overwhelmed all day by the outpouring of love from my family and friends; yet, there was a sadness I could not shake. I woke up to that same empty bed (of course, with the exception of sweet Ralphy!) and felt so very lonely. I missed the one who loved my birthday more than I did. I missed my life from 3 years ago, what would become my last birthday with my husband.</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">I miss him. I miss marriage. I miss us.</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">I am finally able to put into words what I miss most about marriage these days. For it's these very days that I find myself putting on my big girl pants quite often, walking into new situations, getting to know new people.</span></span><br />
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<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">Sometimes, I'm downright terrified by it. I force myself to go anyway. I tell those closest to me how much I don't like it.</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">They remind me of how far my God has carried me on this journey of the last 2 and a half years. They prompt me to keep going.</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content">Going. Going. Yet, feeling so unknown. Going with folks, being in a crowd of people, and yet feeling so very alone. It's as if I've got one foot in my new surroundings and the other in my circumstances of the last few years. It depends on the day, on the season, which side I choose.</span></span><br />
<span class="verse v12 selected" data-usfm="1CO.13.12"><span class="content"><br /></span></span>Yet, when I do venture forward, I finding myself looking to make eye contact with someone, anyone, who can look back at me and know what I am thinking, know what I am feeling. Someone who can almost read my mind by the look in my eyes.<br />
<br />
Someone who knows me fully. Someone with whom I am fully known.<br />
<br />
And that, that very desire is what I miss most about marriage.<br />
<br />
Sure, I miss Tony, I do. But I've accepted the fact that he's in the Ultimate Destination and he's not coming back. He's tasted and seen the Living God. He'd never choose to come back to this earth, even if he was given the opportunity. He's living it up in heaven. And that comforts me.<br />
<br />
Still, I find myself missing the amazing gift of being married, of being one with another, of doing life with my husband. I miss being fully known by my one and only love.<br />
<br />
Fully known, no matter the good or the bad. Fully known and accepted. Fully known and loved.<br />
<br />
I want that again. I do. My marriage was such an amazing love story, how could I not desire to be married again? How could I not?<br />
<br />
And yet, I'm fully aware that it doesn't happen overnight. It's a process. It can be a very long process. And that's just the finding. And there's no guarantee that I'll even find again. On top of that, getting to the place of being known fully is a lot of work, hard work, and vulnerability and courage. The sheer thought of it overwhelms me. It's too much.<br />
<br />
Too much.<br />
<br />
And that's when my God intervenes. That's when He reminds my fragile heart that He knows me fully. He knows me fully. In Him, I am fully known. In Him, I am never alone. And though I can't see the pieces and parts of my story ahead, He sees it. And even more than that, He's got a place waiting for me, not of this earth, where I can be forever, completely fully known.<br />
<br />
Fully known.<br />
<br />
Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-88455349783256567682012-12-12T21:13:00.002-08:002013-10-10T17:37:41.352-07:00Legacy & LoveI faced that towering granite mountain today. I went to see my dad play Santa at my niece's school which sits in plain view of Stone Mountain. I was grateful my sweet friend Sarah joined me so I would not be alone.<br />
<br />
As we drove away after what was a fun time of laughing over my dad and the kids' reactions, I gave that mountain another glance in my rear view. I thought to myself, "he's not here."<br />
<br />
It's Tony's 38th birthday, but he's not here at the mountain where he spent his final moments of this life. He's not. Just like he wasn't at the park in Alpharetta where we took our engagement photos; I passed near it this morning on my way to a meeting. He's not at the Starbucks where we spent so much time chatting about life. He's not in Buckhead where we shared so many date nights in the early days of our relationship. He's not. He's not here.<br />
<br />
It got me to thinking about the time we as humans spend here on this earth, spinning our wheels, scurrying from one place to the next, going about our days like we'll be here again tomorrow and the next, planning for the future, wishing away the present, regretting the past. We give little to no thought about not being here, no longer being on this earth; we are too busy trying to control our lives to worry about what we leave behind when we are no longer here to control it. What will people say about us? What will people do with what we stood for and the things we leave behind? And for those of us who believe in Jesus, what will God say about how we spent our days on this earth?<br />
<br />
I mean, who wants to dwell on questions like that? I realize I'm being quite a downer here. But when I really think about it, and as I reflect on what Tony left behind, the only thing that's left is a fancy little word: legacy.<br />
<br />
Legacy.<br />
<br />
I love this quote by Maya Angelou, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."<br />
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I've spent the last few hours of Tony's birthday digging through a box of letters that he gave me over our 3 and a half years together. To be honest, I had forgotten about some of the sweetest notes he gave me; gosh, as I've said before, he was quite the romantic. And in reading over his journal entries about our early dates, I had forgotten about some of the amazing things we did together. Still, it doesn't take a box of letters or even a picture for me to recall with vivid emotion just how he made me feel:<br />
<br />
<br />
He left me with a legacy of knowing what it was like to be extravagantly loved.<br />
Extravagantly.<br />
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And as much as I miss him, as much as I wish he were here, I can't help but be deeply grateful for such an amazing gift. For I know that if my Tony, as a mere man, was that "crazy" about me and loved me that much, I know my Great God loves me thousands upon thousands and infinitely more. He's crazy about me; He's crazy about us all.<br />
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And that, that, will continue to be the greatest gift my Tony could ever leave behind for me as his wife. And that's what now spurs me on to intentionally invest in my own legacy.<br />
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Dearly loved, carrying Tony's legacy,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-76561880772502262862012-11-11T19:58:00.000-08:002013-10-10T17:37:58.945-07:00The ProposalHe proposed to me on a Monday, Veteran's Day of 2007. It was nothing short of spectacular, elaborate, an outpouring of love that I could have never asked for or imagined.<br />
<br />
The entire week leading up to that amazing day, I received a unique flower, a note with a scripture and quote, and a gift each day, all set around a specific word. These 8 words made up the 8 things he wanted our marriage to be centered around...admiration, peace, contentment, passion, faith, joy, servanthood, and love.<br />
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The intentionality around it all completely overwhelmed me. How could anyone love me this much?<br />
<br />
He did.<br />
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He arranged for my best friend Karen to unexpectedly pick me up from work (my boss Jim was "in" on it all!), drive me in her car covered in rose petels to Chateau Elan where he was waiting in a restaurant reserved completely for just the 2 of us. After dinner, he drove me down to the 18th hole in a golf cart. He had spelled out "Marry Me" with seashells we had collected on our first beach trip together. Unknown to me, my ring was in a Godiva chocolate box he had given me during dinner but would not let me open. He got down on one knee and proposed. I think his knee had barely touched the sand before I said yes! Then, for the first time, he said to me, "I love you."<br />
<br />
That's the first time since Tony departed this earth that I've put words around that unforgettable day. It's as if I've kept stories like this one packed up in a box, placed so delicately on a shelf, til I was ready to unwrap them again. It's hard. It's so very hard. Sure, I'm so grateful to have been so deeply loved by my Tony. I'm forever changed. I'm forever better. Still, I'm reminded of how amazingly good life was with him, I'm reminded of how deeply I've lost.<br />
<br />
Deeply.<br />
<br />
I found this excerpt below that Tony wrote for the "contentment" themed day of our proposal week. It is exactly what I needed tonight on this 5 year anniversary of our engagement.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Theme: Contentment</span></blockquote>
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<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Quote for theme: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">“Love is the greatest refreshment in life.”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"> ~ Pablo Picasso</span></blockquote>
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<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Bible Verse: 2 Corinthians 4:7-18</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u></span></h4>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us. We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed— always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are always delivered to death for Jesus’ sake, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh… Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inwardman is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal."</span></i></blockquote>
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<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Melissa, my prayer for us is that we focus our hearts, minds, and bodies on glorifying the Lord. Everything else can fall away. <b>That we be content with what God has seen fit to give us, and be hopeful of the great plans HE has for us</b>. Through the tough spots in life, we can remain confident that God is STILL for us. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">To live this life with purpose, with the eternal on our minds always.</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">We have air to breathe, love to share, and a great God to serve…what more could we want?</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">That we praise Him together in the morning, and that we thank Him together in the evening. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">That we celebrate Him all the days of our lives.</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u></u><u></u></span></div>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">May we remember that this life and all that is in it are but for a moment, simply vapors that will vanish away.</span></blockquote>
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Dearly loved, forever grateful,</div>
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Melissa</div>
DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-50085347270773069392012-10-22T21:17:00.000-07:002012-10-22T21:17:23.803-07:00You Can't Make This Stuff Up...<span class="text Ps-40-5" id="en-NIV-14531">"Many, <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> my God, </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">are the wonders<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-14531P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)"></sup> you have done,</span></span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-5">the things you planned for us. </span></span><span class="text Ps-40-5">None can compare<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-14531Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)"></sup> with you; </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">were I to speak and tell of your deeds,</span></span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-5">they would be too many<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-14531R" title="See cross-reference R">R</a>)"></sup> to declare." ~ Ps. 40:5</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">I made what's become a weekly trip lately up 400 to our main church campus, North Point, today. I typically don't think much of this 20 or so minute drive, not too much rolling around in my usually sleepy brain. Today was a bit different.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">Today I remembered my trip up and down 400 to North Point 6 years ago...October 22, 2006. It was my first date with Tony; it began with us attending church together. I'd say that was one of the best ways you could start any relationship, especially what would become a beautiful marriage.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">6 years.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">And what's happened in those 6 years, well, you just can't make this stuff up.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">Seriously.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">I laugh at that very phrase. It stemmed from a former colleague of mine who did and said some of the most random things I've ever heard of. Her life, her words, you just could not make that stuff up if you tried.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">As I reflect on the last 6 years, I can't make my life up either. It's full of absolute bliss and bitter hardship. It's random. In so many ways, it's what I could have never planned for or even imagined. It's a one of a kind chapter in my story.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">It could only be scripted by One.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">And that One is my great God, the author of my life.</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTQKuQ0p3AgKdbqpM6wBMcv3KHEfWCAKfmvGcY69gS3U7n7Ql6rbyheHC7iqzfcN6Dq7UYmA1ztr4e8n2Hq4UeLLG0ULYhaDuiZF3uZkhpiYSJ9qvx_iDwePm0D8u6e-WYMOeX7h4-0M/s1600/mel+laugh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTQKuQ0p3AgKdbqpM6wBMcv3KHEfWCAKfmvGcY69gS3U7n7Ql6rbyheHC7iqzfcN6Dq7UYmA1ztr4e8n2Hq4UeLLG0ULYhaDuiZF3uZkhpiYSJ9qvx_iDwePm0D8u6e-WYMOeX7h4-0M/s200/mel+laugh.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">And so, I find myself </span></span>shaking my head and laughing. I laugh a lot these days. I mean, it sure beats crying. But even more, it allows me to release the pressure, to unclench my hands from what are merely imaginary reigns controlling my life.<br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
Release.<br />
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><br /></span></span>
<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5">I am not in control. I remind myself of that often. I can't plan or script my life, as hard as I try at times. I'm finding freedom in just letting God lead, allowing God to bring experiences my way. Sure, some of those really hard experiences are one's I would have never chosen, yet some of the very best are things I would have never seen coming. They take me by surprise; they leave me in awe and wonder of what my God is up to next.</span></span><br />
<br />
Next.<br />
<br />
And yet, they keep me in the present too because I don't want to miss out on what my God is up to in my life today.<br />
<br />
Today.<br />
<br />
And my today, well it was certainly full of random, but really fun and cool stuff...stuff I could not make up. It's been a common theme these last few months, much like the last 6 years. When I add up all the random, all the crazy, all the stuff I did not plan for, the difficult and the good, I can only thank my Jesus for carrying me through, for being the Blessed Controller of my life.<br />
<br />
He is and always will be the Blessed Controller of my life. Only He can make this stuff up!<br />
<br />
Dearly loved, and not in control,<br />
Melissa<br />
<br />DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-26310380887016994732012-09-23T21:38:00.001-07:002013-10-10T17:37:58.943-07:00Save the last dance for me...This past Saturday, I attended my first wedding since Tony's passing. It could not have been a more picture-perfect setting. A 6:30 p.m. ceremony outside, 70-ish degree weather as the sun set. Stunning.<br />
<br />
I know the day was all about my sweet friend Sarah getting married. But as I listened to the breeze whistling softly in the trees, I could not help but feel God's presence with me, for me. It was most certainly God saying hi. Though there were brief moments of sadness, bittersweet flashbacks to my own wedding day, I was so grateful to be there with my big girl pants (well, dress!) on.<br />
<br />
My good friends Susanne and Lindsay stayed close by my side; what great company. As the bride and groom began their first dance, I turned to them and whispered...my Tony, he was an amazing dancer.<br />
<br />
Amazing...simply the best.<br />
<br />
He was so good that I often had to share him with my friends! I graciously agreed, only asking that he always save the last dance for me.<br />
<br />
The last dance.<br />
<br />
I came home from Sarah's wedding with the tune of Michael Buble's version of "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAjfB0XfjkA" target="_blank">Save the Last Dance for Me</a>" in my head. It was one of Tony's favorites. How true those words are to our very own love story.<br />
<br />
A few months ago as I was going through some old files and receipts of his, I found the very receipts from his first ballroom dancing classes that he took in May of 1998. I just had to keep them; they hold so much meaning now.<br />
<br />
They signify one of the earliest investments Tony made in our marriage, long before I was even in the picture.<br />
<br />
One of Tony's goals in his early 20s was to become a great ballroom dancer (as noted in his life goals I found from back then). He set out to accomplish this with countless hours of classes, practice sessions in his living room with his friends, and who knows how many dance partners. He often encouraged me to dance with other people in order to become a better dancer too. I reasoned that I already had the best partner, I did not want to dance with anyone else.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNAezq3H6mlri62zVLi-8CRCslKlp2KZirM_yWdA9w-0R3M-UDMjXUc-CpW9cgg9tAQ90JN1vI_PNiXmQ3y9nrEK7Jkp0rXYfQwWiLqkmyoxOWnJCyXTX4IsaGTyrCQ67GylEJbEcTaI/s1600/Tony+dance+dip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNAezq3H6mlri62zVLi-8CRCslKlp2KZirM_yWdA9w-0R3M-UDMjXUc-CpW9cgg9tAQ90JN1vI_PNiXmQ3y9nrEK7Jkp0rXYfQwWiLqkmyoxOWnJCyXTX4IsaGTyrCQ67GylEJbEcTaI/s320/Tony+dance+dip.jpg" width="233" /></a><br />
Our dancing days started fairly early in our dating. Though I grew up dancing, I had never learned how to dance with a partner. It took me a while to learn to let him lead. But, I found the more in love I fell with him, the more I loosened up...and finally I got to the point of letting go and completely following his lead, even trusting him to dip me as far back as I could go.<br />
<br />
We loved to dance together. It was as if all the cares of the world no longer held any weight as he effortlessly twirled me around the dance floor...often in our living room. It was magical. It was breathe-taking. It was one of the last moments we shared together just days before he left this earth.<br />
<br />
Dance lessons: $670<br />
Saving the last dance for me: Priceless<br />
<br />
Dearly loved, dancer,<br />
Melissa<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />DearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-27080025917619016112012-08-08T21:50:00.001-07:002013-10-10T17:38:22.407-07:00Eyes Wide OpenAbout a year ago, I made the decision that I was going to go back to wearing contacts. It's been over a decade since I've started wearing glasses consistently. I remember that fateful day in the ophthamologist's office when he looked me square in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but contacts are no longer for you." Turns out that my eyes didn't produce enough tears to keep my lenses clean in my eyes. I could say the last 2 years' circumstances have fixed that lil' problem, eh?<br />
<br />
Actually medical advancements have helped my cause; there's finally contacts moist enough to not make me wanna rip my eyeballs out after 30 minutes of wear. So, I purchased a year's supply determined that glasses were my "so last decade" look.<br />
<br />
I popped those contacts in and it's as if my eyes grew two inches. I could see on all sides; it was a clear view. I've worn glasses for so long that I don't know what it's like to have a peripheral view. My eyes were wide open.<br />
<br />
Wide open.<br />
<br />
I was nervous to sport my "new look" around a lot of folks. I finally worked up the courage to wear them to the office; it was a test to see if my face without glasses would make a good impression. The first comment I received was "hmm, you look different."<br />
<br />
Different? Okay, at least it wasn't "ugly" but it might as well have been. That's the last day I wore my contacts to work!<br />
<br />
Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic. (Though I'm pretty sure I speak for most women in saying we don't like to be told we look different.) But this very story relates so much to what I've been wrestling with over the time since <a href="http://lovingontheedge.blogspot.com/2012/06/dreams-and-sketches.html" target="_blank">my last blog post</a>.<br />
<br />
About once a week lately, I've had what I call an "ugly" day. These are days when I wake up with what feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm tired of my current life circumstances, I'm sad, I can't see my future so I might as well picture it as bleak. I'm not my typical fun-loving self. It's my very own pity party. It's a day when I wake up, put on dirty glasses and view the world through them. All I can see is the grit, all I can see is ugly.<br />
<br />
Ugly.<br />
<br />
I was asked by a friend on one of these aforementioned days just what exactly gets me through the day. What changes my view? I thought for a minute, then spouted things out like chocolate, retail therapy, a text to a friend, a nap, cuddle time with Ralphy. Certainly those things perk me up, even for just a bit. Then, I realized what was coming out of my mouth was nothing that was sustaining, nothing that could transform that ugly view and wipe those lenses clean.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIVQPkyxeewK0XqHnkzduXIVppAaLIUk8Lrm5lkGQTjGDzYP5u-ULto3gG7kPkXTks0Jc_apI9S1wgfrJMTghkN_unUpRR0S8tYlb2qRt9vbNqeP1q1_39qVoAZccqV6_g5fqhuVRwDQ/s1600/eyes+open.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIVQPkyxeewK0XqHnkzduXIVppAaLIUk8Lrm5lkGQTjGDzYP5u-ULto3gG7kPkXTks0Jc_apI9S1wgfrJMTghkN_unUpRR0S8tYlb2qRt9vbNqeP1q1_39qVoAZccqV6_g5fqhuVRwDQ/s400/eyes+open.jpg" width="400" /></a>What I need instead is the One who can remove those glasses all together. I need my Healer who can allow my eyes to be wide open, with nothing in the way. I need my God to break the chains of my distorted, limited view.<br />
<br />
My favorite song over the last couple months has been NeedtoBreathe's "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91iXRMkmFbs" target="_blank">Keep Your Eyes Open</a>." I love these lyrics:<br />
<br />
<i>Just past the circumstance, the first light a second chance<br />
No child could ever dance the way you do oh<br />
Tear down the prison walls, don't stop the curtain calls<br />
Your chains will never fall until you do<br /><br />
'Cus if you never leave home, never let go<br />
You'll never make it to the great unknown<br />
Till you keep your eyes... open my love</i>
<br />
<br />
I've become quite accustomed to my glasses; I feel quite "at home" in them. Some days they are dirtier, uglier than others. Some days I can use my shirt and get them fairly clean. But it only takes a few tear drops to make them smudged and dirty again.<br />
<br />
Ugly days.<br />
<br />
God continues to call me to renew my mind, to surrender my "chains," to open wide my eyes to the "great unknown" He has for me. Sure, I don't know what that unknown will look like, but I can rest in knowing it is certainly not "ugly."<br />
<br />
And in the meantime, perhaps I will just bust out those contacts again. Just please don't tell me I look "different!"<br />
<br />
Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-22946651153612518582012-06-21T20:51:00.000-07:002013-10-10T17:39:59.145-07:00Dreams and Sketches...I'm beginning to sketch; my inspiration is returning. I'm dreaming again.<br />
<br />
I'm dreaming big.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycU_26tIKSWXc6aQ4ZgKNsPHQIfixpKnBLtOk1VFOobtxEqSWyhySmkVM1nIhjnZ-6YoFu18YXj1uwMmE-PI1h3rcZpH-ygiwsU6bf3-IJz4nN93ok6uAE0qYbD3pD5uHl8OnTMM1D5g/s1600/voc-free-paint-tip-lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycU_26tIKSWXc6aQ4ZgKNsPHQIfixpKnBLtOk1VFOobtxEqSWyhySmkVM1nIhjnZ-6YoFu18YXj1uwMmE-PI1h3rcZpH-ygiwsU6bf3-IJz4nN93ok6uAE0qYbD3pD5uHl8OnTMM1D5g/s200/voc-free-paint-tip-lg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
It was a little over 2 years ago when a blogged about my first<a href="http://lovingontheedge.blogspot.com/2010/05/dreaming-of-paint-cans.html"> dream of Tony</a> since his passing. And in that dream Tony brought me paint cans - cans of 3 primary colors - to be used on the big blank canvas representing my life without him.<br />
<br />
It's taken me this long to reset my eyes from that big white canvas; it's as if I was blinded to any color. And it even took a while for me to even see beyond it's "blankness" to remember the beautiful paintings, my very own art collection of my life, leading up to and during my time with my husband. Those are still coming back into clarity as I reflect on my blessed beginnings and my blessed time with Tony.<br />
<br />
Blessed.<br />
<br />
I feel as if it's time to start on the next piece in my collection. It's time to start thinking about what's it's gonna look like, what dreams it will unfold.<br />
<br />
So, what am I dreaming about? As my pastor Andy Stanley says, "What are you working on big?" What keeps me up at night? What do I think about when I am inspired to make an impact on this world, when I think about the legacy I want to leave?<br />
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Well, lots of things, really.<br />
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I want to continue emptying my cup into the lives of college students and young 20-something women. I am convinced that if these girls go hard after God at their age, there is no telling how much further and farther they can go for the Kingdom in their lifetime. There's no stopping this generation. I'm a firm believer, and I just wanna be a part of it.<br />
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I want to keep learning and growing and being challenged at my dream job. I shake my head often as I thank my God for such an amazing place to work; it's really hard to refer to it as "work" for I enjoy it so much. I know my future is in the Lord's hands, but I certainly hope my future includes a long career in ministry at Buckhead Church. <br />
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This one's a stretch and a little hard to talk about...but, I want to be a wife and a mom. Yes, that means a wife, again. Now, I know this is gonna require some extra large "big girl" pants to even have the courage for the d-word...d.d.d.date. Ha! But I have given myself permission to desire for God to bring me a "kinsman redeemer" like He graciously gave to widowed Ruth in the Bible. So, pray for a Boaz for me, if you'd like, but even more, pray for my complete TRUST and contentment to be in Jesus.<br />
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But even more, my big dream, my really big dream that only God can make come true...well, that involves women I've never met, women I may never meet, women in totally different circumstances, women who live so completely opposite of me, women who may or may not know my Jesus, women I have little in common with...except for sharing the deep pain of loosing a husband. These women are widows like me.<br />
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Yet, they live in absolute poverty.<br />
They live in countries where women are not valued.<br />
They live in cultures where when they lose their husbands, they are pushed to the absolute margins of society.<br />
They not only live with the pain of loss, but they live devoid of hope of anything ever changing in their lives.<br />
They feel as if they have nothing, no one to care, no one to come alongside and lift them up...out of the pit they know as hopelessness.<br />
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And, there are over a million of them. Out of the 2.45 million widows in the world, almost half live in absolute poverty, poverty like we've never seen or experienced here in the States.<br />
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And that, that's what breaks my heart. That's what bothers me. That's who I think about when I daydream about my life's purpose.<br />
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And my dream, my heart's desire, is for God to open a door for me to help them, to come alongside someway, somehow. I want to share their lives, to tell their stories. I want to love those widows considered the last and the least, those widows on the margins, I want to love those widows...on the edge.<br />
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And I don't know how. I don't even know when. I'm in the very infant stages of a plan, a sketch. I do know that the Bible calls us to care for widows in distress. And there are over a million of them. This Saturday, June 23, is International Widow's Day, birthed out of what has become in the last few years as the "United Nations Plight of the Widow."<br />
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So, I'm writing this to ask for prayers for my dream and for God to lead me in His timing to what I am to do. I don't write this to make anything of myself; I'd most certainly never have put this on my "wish list" of things I want to do when I "grow up."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_v2QzLOZTHTqJ6s2gdC3aFFKpTdgh-8hkzqcqGHX856SKe5Ba_GYh1UQgfzHJEMzy3doss5UN2yFrp9CIFhL5cFOL_o5a6mMB0Wr4E3F2H-a3gjw7QN-qUJxwoBnfn1BZGNIUqrR7ME/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_v2QzLOZTHTqJ6s2gdC3aFFKpTdgh-8hkzqcqGHX856SKe5Ba_GYh1UQgfzHJEMzy3doss5UN2yFrp9CIFhL5cFOL_o5a6mMB0Wr4E3F2H-a3gjw7QN-qUJxwoBnfn1BZGNIUqrR7ME/s200/photo-9.JPG" width="188" /></a></div>
But these women have been impressed on my heart. These women, they need Hope and they need livelihoods restored and they need Jesus. And someone's gotta do something. Perhaps I'm one of those someone's.<br />
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Someone. <br />
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All I know for sure is that my life is not my own. I want more than anything for my dreams, my life canvases, my life's impact, to reflect the One I live for. <br />
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Dearly loved, sketching,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7252251237518801234.post-87918462002428191462012-06-13T18:16:00.001-07:002013-10-10T17:39:43.267-07:00Little Miss IndependentI'm fairing fairly well these last couple of months. It was a marathon of anniversary dates and holidays from November to April. I dug out about mid-May and finally started feeling as if the weight of the world was no longer on my shoulders.<br />
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It feels good.<br />
I feel happy most days.<br />
It feels a little like normal.<br />
Normal...now that's not a word I ever thought I'd use to describe my life ever again.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I sat across from a new friend who has been stuck in her own cycle of grief and loss. It was a surreal experience for these words to come out of my mouth to encourage her:<br />
"If you would have told me two years ago that I'd be sitting across from you, sharing my story of tragedy and how I've made it through, I would have never believed you."<br />
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Sure, two years ago, I trusted my God to carry me through. He was and is the only One who could. But, I was in such a dark space that I could not see it, and I most definitely could not envision feeling anything but tragedy and sadness ever again.<br />
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Ever.<br />
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There are days when I look around and feel as if God picked me right up out of that day before Tony died, put me in a time capsule, and shipped me right into my current life. It really is best case scenario for having to start over, for having had tragedy rattle every part of me. I am so very grateful; I certainly did nothing to deserve this great favor.<br />
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Yet, I have to remind myself that the common denominator through all of these circumstances is me. Me.<br />
Me with all my insecurities and weaknesses. Me with all my demands. Me who more often than I care to admit likes to control my life.<br />
Me.<br />
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I took a stroll down memory lane this week, I thought back to my hopes and dreams as a child and early teen. I remembered vividly what I wanted to be:<br />
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An independent woman.<br />
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Ha! It seems laughable now. I don't think I had any clue what that meant at the time, but it sounded intriguing. I wanted to be able to do things on my own, to depend on no one but myself, to accomplish and achieve anything I set my heart to...all because of me.<br />
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I mean, thanks, Kelly Clarkson, for a cool song, but honestly, what young girl aspires to become that?<br />
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Still, there was insight in that phrase. It was a foreshadowing to a very thorn in my side...little miss independent.<br />
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That's exactly how I operate when I try to do things apart from Christ, when I blaze through my day, my week, event or circumstance, depending on my strength and not that of my Savior's. It's my very flesh, my weakness. And when things seem manageable, attainable, achievable on my own, that's when little miss independent takes over my life.<br />
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Sure, it's great to be able to use the talents, wisdom, strength God has given me to go about my daily tasks, decisions, relationships. But the danger lies in thinking I am captain of my own ship, driver of my own car, my very own puppeteer in the puppet show of my life.<br />
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Contrast that with the first year, really even most of the second year, after loosing Tony. I can recount many days when the sun came up, my alarm clocked blared, and I had nothing, NOTHING, to muster to even sit up in bed, much less get up. All I could do was earnestly ask the Lord to give me the ability to get up, to put one foot in front of the other and to trust Him for the rest of my day. I was desperate. I was dependent. I could do nothing apart from Christ.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBmYLuX6Yimg8vsP5WzqYdHVLSD2-wlChtyiqqC8niBmfBkqVSwZ0wkOlfHu8s_4OCTYig2CWqyd8GXcqo_Q1BYzYeWRZZx8VBmKuLniSs9N9sc2msi6Cpyi6yX741gAcLasZvxyvDLI/s1600/desperate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBmYLuX6Yimg8vsP5WzqYdHVLSD2-wlChtyiqqC8niBmfBkqVSwZ0wkOlfHu8s_4OCTYig2CWqyd8GXcqo_Q1BYzYeWRZZx8VBmKuLniSs9N9sc2msi6Cpyi6yX741gAcLasZvxyvDLI/s200/desperate.jpg" width="200" /></a>I am thankful to have moved past this stage of grief and to be able to get up on my own again. Still, I find myself wanting, longing, to never forget what is was like to be completely dependent on Jesus to meet my every need, down to the very basics. I don't want that experience, as hard and painful as it was, to go in vain.<br />
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I suppose why these two word pictures I stare at each morning as I get ready are so fitting.<br />
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I wanna stay desperate for my God, desperate for His Presence. Desperate.<br />
Dependent on Him.<br />
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Dearly loved,<br />
MelissaDearlyLovedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05186273984983677541noreply@blogger.com3