Fully Known...

"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

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.

I miss him. I miss marriage. I miss us.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Someone who knows me fully. Someone with whom I am fully known.

And that, that very desire is what I miss most about marriage.

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.

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.

Fully known, no matter the good or the bad. Fully known and accepted. Fully known and loved.

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?

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.

Too much.

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.

Fully known.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Legacy & Love

I 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.

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."

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.

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?

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.

Legacy.

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."

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:


He left me with a legacy of knowing what it was like to be extravagantly loved.
Extravagantly.

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.

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.

Dearly loved, carrying Tony's legacy,
Melissa

The Proposal

He 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.

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.

The intentionality around it all completely overwhelmed me. How could anyone love me this much?

He did.

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."

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.

Deeply.

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.

Theme:  Contentment

Quote for theme:  “Love is the greatest refreshment in life.” ~ Pablo Picasso

Bible Verse:  2 Corinthians 4:7-18

"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."

Melissa, my prayer for us is that we focus our hearts, minds, and bodies on glorifying the Lord. Everything else can fall away. That we be content with what God has seen fit to give us, and be hopeful of the great plans HE has for us. Through the tough spots in life, we can remain confident that God is STILL for us. 

To live this life with purpose, with the eternal on our minds always.

We have air to breathe, love to share, and a great God to serve…what more could we want?

That we praise Him together in the morning, and that we thank Him together in the evening. 

That we celebrate Him all the days of our lives.

May we remember that this life and all that is in it are but for a moment, simply vapors that will vanish away.

Dearly loved, forever grateful,

Melissa

Save 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.

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.

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.

Amazing...simply the best.

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.

The last dance.

I came home from Sarah's wedding with the tune of Michael Buble's version of "Save the Last Dance for Me" in my head. It was one of Tony's favorites. How true those words are to our very own love story.

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.

They signify one of the earliest investments Tony made in our marriage, long before I was even in the picture.

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.

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.

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.

Dance lessons: $670
Saving the last dance for me: Priceless

Dearly loved, dancer,
Melissa

Mi Amor en Sevilla

I took a marble with me to Spain. Yes, these were the precious marbles in the jar Tony gave me when we were engaged so that we could throw one away every year on our anniversary. That jar accidentally broke about 6 months back, and instead of scrambling to glue it back together or buy another jar, I simply accounted for all of the marbles and placed them in a temporary location…a Ziploc bag.

A few weeks before we left for our mission trip in Spain, our co-leader Carolyn asked each of us to bring a small item from home to share with our team as a way to get to know each other. I thought, and I thought. Of course I wanted to take Ralphy. But, then the most perfect thing hit me…I was to take one of my marbles on the retreat and then was to take that same marble to Spain.

And, I was to leave it there.

No, it’s not yet Tony’s and my anniversary. But the day I witnessed my jar shatter, I made a choice to let those marbles go…and do so by releasing one at a time in places or with people important to our life together.

Spain was one of those places. To be honest, I was so nervous about how I would feel as I walked into a country Tony and I dreamed of experiencing together.

Bittersweet.

I quickly fell in love with the culture, the history, the people. Tony would have done the same. I could see us living here while he pursued a degree; I could see us falling more in love with each other as we shared amazing times together in such a breath-taking place; I could see God using us for His Glory in a country so beautiful yet so empty without Jesus.

I missed him. I longed for him. I could feel the weight of grief again on my shoulders. I felt heart-broken all over again.

Yet I did not feel alone; I was so glad to be alongside my amazing teammates and new amigos who already feel like family. It’s as if Tony was smiling down on me, as I tried to relay to him, “Do you see me, aren’t you proud of me; I’m finally in OUR Spain.”

I had determined to find just the perfect spot to leave the marble; I asked the Lord to show me at just the right time. It’s been such a battle to have an undivided heart between wanting to dwell on Tony and wanting to be fully present for my team.

I had hoped I could release it sooner than later, so that I could focus on our mission as much as possible. And on day two of our trip, that hope was fulfilled as we visited the Plaza de Espana in the center of Sevilla.

As we walked up on it, I was enraptured by it’s beauty, like none I’ve seen. It was so old, yet so well preserved. It was the essence of Spain, people everywhere. We walked around, taking photos galore. But what caught my eye were the couples rowing in small boats in the canal in the center of the plaza. I couldn’t help but picture Tony and I in one of those boats. Romance.

So, I stepped aside from the rest of the group. I reached into my purse and took out that precious marble. I held it up in my hand for one final picture, well two. 

I love the contrast in these. It’s as if God shown down in that moment to remind me He is with me, He is for me, that He sees me, that He recognizes my pain, that He will restore me, that He will continue to use my story for His glory.

Toss.

The marble was gone, never to be seen again. Tony and my dream of Spain together gone with it.

It’s just another part of letting go.

As I walked away to rejoin our group, I looked back to see this couple rowing by.

Love stories continue. Yes, mine with Tony on this earth has ended. Yet, others go on; perhaps even one for me will blossom again. Perhaps.

Whether or not that happens, I rest in God’s love story, the great Love of my life, and I pray someday, somehow the great Love of many in Spain. And so my prayer for Spain is captured so well in the words to “How He Loves” in Spanish, sung by Seth Condrey who will be here on Friday for our concert.

Dearly loved, with 72 marbles left,

Melissa

My Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Today marks 5 years since my first date with Tony.  October 22, 2006, is a day I will never forget; it's a day where my life began to change forever, for good, for very good.  It's the day I met my "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

Now I'm not one for sappy titles and cliches.  But I must admit that this song truly did begin the love story later to be known as Tony and Melissa Edge.  The day before our date, I was volunteering at a fall festival with some of my closest friends...friends I had yet to tell about my plans with Tony the next day! I distinctly recall finally working up the courage to tell them, and this version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was playing in the background.  No joke.

The very next day, Tony and I met for the early service at North Point before we headed to what was to be our "date." As we drove out of the parking lot, Tony turned to me and said he wanted to play one of his favorite songs for me...yes, it was this same version of the exact same song.

Beautiful timing. Beautiful song.

It soon became one of "our" songs. Tony danced to it with his mom at our wedding; it was one of her favorites too. For our 6 month dating anniversary, I made him a CD of all our favorite songs together. This song was the head-liner and the title of the CD - "My Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

As most girls do, I grew up dreaming of the man I would marry, a man set apart by God just for me. I waited for what seemed like eternity to me (not really as I look back) for this gift to walk into my life, sweep me off my feet, and make my dream of marriage come true.

And it did. Tony was my dream of a husband come true. He was more than I could have ever asked for or imagined. I remember telling him early on that his amazing blue eyes reminded me of those blue birds in the song...deep, dreamy blue. And, in his arms, I felt as if the troubles of this world, no matter how dark or hard, would melt away.

I honestly have not been able to listen to this song since Tony's passing. It was just too hard to think about my "somewhere," my "lullaby, " my "dream come true" to be no more. It made the song seem so cruel, so unfair. My blue bird flew away, my troubles hardened like stale lemon drops, my rainbow couldn't be seen for the clouds of grief and sadness. Why oh why, God, why oh why?

The song came to mind today as I was looking through some pictures of Tony and I while we were dating. I put on my big girl pants and played the song on my iPod on my drive home from my parents. I began to get teary as I turned past Chateau Elan, the very place Tony proposed to me on the 18th hole. But I quickly became intrigued by the stunning hues of the sky at dusk - ruby red, burnt orange, and a hint of deep ocean blue.

There before me was my rainbow, set horizontally along the tree-lined corridor of Interstate 85. No, it wasn't a true rainbow, no one else would have pictured it the same way. It looked different, yet it was beautiful in its own way. It was a rainbow just for me, a rainbow to represent my new dreams to come after the clouds of grief and sadness pass.

It was in that hour's drive home that I reflected on the fact that I am not in control of my "somewhere" on this earth. Though I dream, and dream big, it is God who makes my dreams come true, He is my Dream-Maker, my Dream-Giver. He is my perfect Creator. He is the one who makes the rainbows; He allows them to appear and fade away, in His timing, in His very perfect timing, after the storms, after the rain, after a long season of drought, after what seems like a long time to dream, and sometimes after it seems impossible for another rainbow to break through.

My somewhere with my Tony on this earth may have lasted but a few years; yet the vibrancy of it's rainbow has impacted my life for eternity.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Ralphy and Me

I grew up with a dog named Tiger.  Yes, I gave her that name!  Turns out I'm allergic to dogs.  I really never thought I'd have another one.

I recall one of my early grief counseling sessions just months after Tony's passing where my counselor suggested I get a pet just so I've have something to hold, to snuggle with, something living and breathing to bring me comfort.  I bluntly cut her off by telling her I was allergic to pet dander.  She instead suggested I start holding babies at church.  Well, those of you who read my post a few months back know that I caught a cold that turned into pneumonia from the one time I did that.

No pets, no babies for me.

Months passed by; I slowly adjusted to living by myself in my condo.  Sure I loved where I lived, but most days I hated coming home to an empty place every day at 5.  It was as if I lived for the 9 to 5 where I could be at work (a place I just love!); it was the 5 p.m. to 9 a.m. that was so hard to face.

So I began to entertain the idea of getting a hypo-allergenic dog.  I had a couple of friends who have yorkies, and after looking at every type of dog I could have, a yorkie was the only breed I wanted.

I was hooked.  But I wasn't convinced.

I pondered and I researched and I asked lots of questions to my dog owner friends.  I even decided on a name...Ralphy.  It comes from my all-time favorite movie, A Christmas Story.

And finally, I jumped right in.  I met my puppy at 4 weeks old; she hales from deep South Georgia.  As I held her in my arms, she peed on me.  I was smitten.

Anticipation grew over the next 3 weeks as I literally had a countdown going at work.  I got everything she could possibly need, all decked out in pink, from a monogrammed bag to loads of toys.  On July 15, mom and I made the drive down South to get her.  She was terrified; in some ways, so was I.  She weighed a whopping 1 pound, 9 ounces.

And I instantly fell in love.  How could something so tiny, so fragile, provide so much joy, so much love?

With a sweet face like this, how could she not?

No amount of peeing the floor, biting my toes, whining and chewing could cause me to love her any less.

She's my puppy, my Ralphy.  And I've asked the Lord to use her in my life to teach me more about Him.

Dearly loved, puppy owner,
Melissa

A marble in the ocean

I'm a little behind on some of my blog posts. Some have been sitting as half-finished drafts for months now.   Blame it on lack of inspiration, blame it on busyness, blame it on grief that literally exhausts me often, if not constantly, oh and blame it on my super cute new puppy (more on her later).  I will just go ahead and forgive myself.

So journey back with me a few months to my wedding anniversary on April 26.  On what would have been a celebration of 3 years of marriage, I threw away another marble from my jar that Tony gave me when he proposed.  There's now 73 left.  If I live to throw all of them out, I will be 104.  I told the good Lord I was okay with that as long as I could keep my teeth.  I'm well on my way - I finally had a cavity-free visit to the dentist!  That's a major accomplishment.

Looking back at my post a few days before my anniversary, I wrote about getting lost in the sea of God's love.  And that's exactly where I journeyed, all the way to the ocean and back.

I met with my Jesus there.

I was joined by one of my best friends, Karen, such a fun friend to have alongside on road trips.  I heart her!  My biggest concern for the trip was to just escape life for a few days and relax.  I made it my goal to "unplug" from technology as best I could.  With Karen's gentle encouragement, I succeeded, somewhat.

It was the day after Easter when we arrived at the beach.  We stayed in a high rise hotel with a view overlooking the beach and the ocean.  It was perfect.

But what was beyond perfect, a message just for me, was what was spelled out with dried up seaweed on the shore.  It said "He is risen."

I took it as my own personal invitation to meet with my Jesus right on that sand, right on that shore, right where the roaring ocean meets mere man, right where the endless sea of God's grace and love washes over my toes and into my very soul.

I stared for hours at the enormity of that sea, at how small I am compared to how large God is.  I wept, I laughed, I dreamed of memories spent by the ocean with my husband, I breathed that ocean air in, and I invited God to restore me.  I reflected on an entire year I survived, I lived through without Tony, a year I never imagined possible.  And I thanked my Jesus for never leaving my side.

He deserves all the credit, all the Glory, forever and ever.

It came time to toss that marble symbolizing what would have been year number 3 of our marriage into the ocean.  Karen accompanied me; I could not bear to do this task I was dreading alone.  I didn't want to let go of that marble, that year, because it represented a year apart from the love of my life.  It's a year I will never get back.  It represented the beginning of year after year of time passing between us.  Like the unceasing roll of the ocean tide, time moves on, and I'm forced to move with it.  I'm forced to move forward, time is relentless and unforgiving that way.

And it was that tide that took away that marble.  I took this picture, tossed the marble into the waves, and then it was gone...forever. 

Yet, I was not without hope, for that ocean also represents the unceasing, unfailing love of my Savior.  I can't think of a better place for my marble to be.

Now I'm 3 months in to living out marble number 4, and I'm shooting for it to be another cavity free year!

Dearly loved, teeth flosser,
Melissa

My love story...

I'm putting on my big girl pants once again and stepping back into the world of serving at church.  In a weak moment, I said yes to co-leading a 7 week small group study that starts next week.

I met the other girl and guy I will be leading with tonight, and to get to know each other, we decided it was probably best to share our stories of coming to know Jesus and what He's done in our lives.  That's really one of the first times since Tony died that I have shared my testimony out loud with folks I don't know.  What a different story I tell with this last year of tragedy and grief added in.  These leaders were so sweet to just let me ramble, certainly not my eloquent, well-rehearsed speeches from my college days as Student Government President.

Sigh.

Since we've got 12 people in our group, we have opted to condense our stories to a 2 to 3 minute "elevator speech" of who God was to us as a child and who He is to us now.  I've got some work to do, I've got to document it so it won't escape my brain like everything else left to my memory.  So, I thought I'd just share it here.

I call it...My Love Story...

I was very fortunate to be raised in a loving, Christian home, where my parents prioritized my brother and I going to church and learning about Jesus.  However, being the over-achieving, straight A, "good little church girl," I always felt that I had to earn God's love by performing well, doing the right things and basically trying to be perfect.  That was until at 15, I went on a weekend retreat and learned about God's unconditional love for me, that He desired a relationship with me not because of how good I was, but because of His Son Jesus dying on a cross for the sin of the world, for my sin.  It was then that I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior.

Since that time, the tension of my Type A personality has still been something I have to work through, but God continues to lead me in releasing that to Him in exchange for just resting in His love.  He gave me a tangible example of His unconditional love in 2008 when I married the earthly love of my life, Tony.  My husband doted on me, delighted in me, romanced me extravagantly, regardless of my imperfections, regardless of whether I always did or said the right things, regardless of my performance.  He just loved me.  He just wanted to be in relationship with me.

I lost this earthly love very suddenly and very tragically in March of 2010.  My world turned upside down, my dreams were shattered, this unconditional love was no longer something I could hold in my arms.  It was then that I heard God whisper in the depths of my heart, "now it's My turn to romance you, to pour out My unconditional love over you, to display how much I desire you and your heart, to delight in you, to just be with you."  And in the darkness of my grief and pain, I have fallen more in love with Jesus than ever before.  I feel God loving me extravagantly, day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath.  Though the chapter of my beautiful love story with Tony has come to an unforeseen close, my love story with my Savior continues to be written.

So there you have it, the story of "Little Miss Perfect Princess" swept into the arms of the God of the Universe.  And regardless of what happens in this life, my story will always have a "happily ever after" in eternity with my Savior.

Dearly loved, in my love story,
Melissa

Lost...

It's the day between Good Friday and Easter.  It's the day between the remembrance of a horrible death on a cross and the resurrection to new life.  It's the day in between earthly sorrow and eternal hope.

In between.

I often wonder what it was like for the disciples during those days in between their Savior, their Friend breathing his final breathe on this earth and Jesus fulfilling what He promised them through His resurrection 3 days later.  What was it like to not know that His death was not the final verdict? What was it like to not fully have the hope of knowing that Jesus would rise from the grave, that it was impossible for death to keep its hold on Him?

I would imagine they felt very, very sad...and lost.  Who would they follow now?

Lost.

I've felt lost in a sea of emotions this week we call Passion week.  I am utterly exhausted as I tread to barely keep my head above water.  Tears have flowed quite frequently, and I haven't tried to fight them back.

One of my colleagues who just lost both of his parents led our Leadership Team through communion on Thursday; I was deeply touched as he presented the elements to us amidst his own sorrow and pain.  I stared at that bread representing the body of my Jesus and that cup representing His blood; all I could muster was, "Jesus, You are IT for me, and Jesus, You are Enough."

Then, it was on to Good Friday and my realization that this very day a year ago was the day I picked up my Tony's ashes from the funeral home.  Later that evening last year, I recall sitting at the Passion City Church service and boldly telling my God that He had better use my tragic story for His glory, or else just let me die.  Well, I'm still here, and He is certainly at work using my story (I take no credit).  He continues to answer my honest prayer.

I had the great privilege to serve alongside my dear colleagues at Buckhead Church's Good Friday services last night.  I could only take in parts of the images of my Savior's death; my head and my heart were spinning.  I was at such a loss to make sense of it all.  I mean, sure I believe all that took place on that very dark day, and I know Jesus had to pay that price to atone for my sin.  I was just overwhelmed in those moments, and my spirit remained overwhelmed until I feel asleep that night.

So here I sit on Saturday, this day in between.  I cranked up Passion's latest album as I worked around my place to get ready for Easter lunch that my parents are bringing here tomorrow.  David Crowder's "Sometimes" began to play; I closed my eyes to take in these words...

"It’s Your love that we adore
It’s like a sea without a shore
We’re lost in You
We’re lost in You"

That's it. That explains my emotions so perfectly. I am lost in Jesus, overwhelmed at His love for me, for you.  I am lost in the Truth that He would die an unbearably painful death to display to the world the endless depth of His love.  He will go to any length so that anyone, anywhere, may have the gift of salvation and eternal life in Him.  I am lost in the promise of heaven, a promise fulfilled for my Tony and one day for all of us who have a relationship with Jesus. I am lost in my Savior.

So now I turn my attention, my earnest prayers to those in my life, those yet to be in my life, those I'll never meet, who are lost without the Hope of Jesus, lost without a Savior.  I pray boldly this Easter weekend that Jesus would capture their hearts with His love, His grace, for truly there is NOTHING on this earth that trumps it.  There's no other promise like His.

The song continues...

"It’s Your love that we adore
It’s like a sea without a shore
Don’t be afraid
Don’t be afraid
Just set your sail
And risk the ocean there’s only grace
Let’s risk the ocean there’s only grace"

Dearly loved, lost in Jesus and risking the ocean,
Melissa

Christ without the "mas"

Stick a fork in me, cause I am done.  I am so over Christmas.  I am.  I just am.

Call me Scrooge, call me whatever you like.  I'm just saying.  At least I'm being honest.

I walked away tonight from yet another service project I have delved into this holiday season.  I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve others in need.  It is at the very core of what God calls us each to do.

But as I looked into the faces of helpless women and children, I realized that there is no amount of goodwill to make up for my loss.  There is no amount of goodwill to make up for whatever they've lost.

There just isn't.

Because it is not human goodwill they, nor I, need.  No amount of Christmas cheer.  No amount of anything of this earth.

Instead, it is Christ we need.

Christ alone.  Christ without the "mas."

We hear so often the cheesy phrase, "Jesus is the reason for the season."  Well, for me, Jesus is the reason that I live and breathe, regardless of the season.

And to be honest, He doesn't need presents, and songs, and over-eating, and parties, and all the Christmas craziness to be celebrated.

He really just wants our hearts.

And He's got mine, that is for sure.  I can say beyond a doubt that I am more in love with Christ this Christmas than ever before.  Kind of ironic for me to feel that way during a year where I can't even bring myself to muster a Christmas song.

He knows my heart.  That's the best gift I could ever offer.

Dearly loved, and celebrating Christ,
Melissa

The Jordans...

It seems I have invited myself into another family these last few months.  Sure, I still have my own and Tony's, who I love dearly.  I am blessed to have such amazing support and love.

This other family of 4 was an answer to a prayer that I wrote in my journal about a year before Tony and I married.  He and I were "getting serious" and felt it would be a wise investment in our future to find a Godly couple to mentor us.

So we began to pray.  And pray.  And believe God.  And keep our eyes out for just the right folks.

It was a year and half later, about 4 months after our wedding, when God answered our prayer.  We didn't know it at the time, but when we signed up for a newly married small group through our church, God was bringing us life-long mentors and friends.

That is when we met Mark and Michelle Jordan, and their beautiful daughters Emily and Nicole.

A few weeks into our gatherings, Tony and I were in love with this family.  We loved to hear how Mark and Michelle did married life together and were convinced that when we had children, we would have them on a parenting hotline.  We would constantly ask the question, "What would the Jordans do?"

We had no idea God would place such amazing people in our lives.  And we thought it was just for marriage and family advice.

They became so much more.  I was faced with some urgent financial decisions shortly after Tony's passing.  I was driving down the road one day, bawling my eyes out, and God brought to my mind, "What would the Jordans do?"

One phone call later, and the Jordans joined me in the "trenches" of my tragedy, dregging through important decisions, and hard tasks, and realities that no one would ever wish to face.

I loved the words of wisdom I heard recently that said who you take advice from will ultimately be who you become.  The Jordans are defintely like the folks I want to become.

These verses in Proverbs 15:22 are so true, "Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed." I am forever grateful for their continued counsel. 

There are no words to thank them enough. No words.

Dearly loved, and loving the Jordans,
Melissa

Red letters...

One of the best decisions I have made in my grief journey is to read the Bible cover to cover.  I finally made it through the Old Testament a few weeks ago, and I felt rather accomplished.  The next page in my Bible was completely blank.  The Word of God was silent.  For us, only for a page.  But for those who lived during that time, that one blank page represented over 400 years of silence from God. 400 years of prayers unanswered, promises unfulfilled, hope deferred.

And then I turn over a page into Matthew and just a chapter in, there they are in all their splendor...

Red letters.
Those red words in the Bible - the very words of God spoken on earth.

It is God speaking to ordinary man - not just to his chosen few. Jesus is speaking to all of us. Those words are for all of us. It is His promise fulfilled, our ultimate answer to prayer, our hope unfailing.

How very often I take for granted having his very words, his very instructions, his life lessons right at my finger tips. 

I awoke this morning quite gripped by fear over some upcoming decisions that need to be made.  So I opened my Bible to finish up reading the Gospels, and I came across some of my favorite words of Jesus in John 15:5, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

And my fear began to fade away as I wrapped myself in the comfort of the Scriptures.

I must say that I am more in love with Jesus than ever before.

Dearly loved, and loving His Word,
Melissa

Fix You...

"I just wish I could fix it"...a phrase I've heard come out of the mouths of those I hold closest to my heart.  My dad, my mom, Casey are just a few who have uttered those desperate words, grasping for something, anything to release me from these heartwrenching circumstances.  And I know they would do all in their power to fix my pain, to fix my shattered dreams, to fix me.

And yet, they remain powerless.
They cannot fix me.
But, I am grateful beyond words that they love me so much that they would try.

I was reminded of that this evening as I watched a dance to Coldplay's "Fix You" at the SYTYCD live show.  This one piece choreographed by a son wanting to fix his mother's illness has touched me deeply.  Sure, it makes me think of Tony and my desire to see him whole again on this earth.  I would give my own life for that. 

But even more, I could see my loved ones' deep desire to fix me.  Day by day, moment by moment, they see my hard road, they see my struggles, and they want to take my burden away.

And I picture their own toil, their own anguish, their own tears, as the reality of my situation tells them otherwise.

The song's chorus repeats, "Lights will guide you home...and I will try to fix you."

After the show, my mom and I drove mostly in silence, I was enamored by the beautiful harvest moon guiding our way home.  What a fitting picture of the light of the Lord shining down His healing touch, all the while one of my greatest supporters sits as the passenger next to me.  On any given day, I can interchange my dad, my brother, my best and closest friends, into that seat too.

I pray God continues to remind them... "Do not fear, do not worry, I see your heart's desire. I will fix her in My time.  All you need to do is stay the course by her side."

It says in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."

Lord Jesus, comfort those who comfort me.  Stay close to their side as you remain close to mine.  And, please God, fix me.  Fix me as only You know how. Amen

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Final words

It is hard to believe that this week marks 6 months since my love departed from this world.

I often replay his final days in my mind, trying to remember what he was up to, imagining what he was feeling.  The last time I saw him was 2 days before the accident, on a Sunday.  We had spent the day before making final preparations for the top portion of our home to be rented.  Of course, Tony needed to be studying for his Executive MBA program that entire day, but he chose to help me finish the daunting task instead.  

All was going according to plan, until I heard a loud rush of water coming from the basement...the washer overflowed.  I was so frustrated; Tony took it in stride, just like he normally did.  We left it alone for the evening; Tony went on to study for a couple of hours before he came into the living room to ask me to dance.  Dance?  Yes, dance. My romantic husband again chose me over all other responsibilities, and as we twirled around our tiny living room,  I remember wishing that this moment would last forever. 

We spent our last day together with a trip to Lowe's for more home supplies, then on to worship at church.  I still picture Tony standing with his arms held high in worship, swaying back and forth, which I loved.  I left that afternoon with my friend Karen for a trip to Savannah & St. Simon's, where I had a couple of events for work.  As I told him good-bye, Tony grabbed me into his arms; looking back, I could have stayed there a lifetime.

The next 2 days were a blur for both of us.  I do recall that he spent most of it cleaning up the water in the basement and finishing up a couple more "to do" items for the house.  He took care of everything, so that I did not have to worry.  All the while, his recent promotion at work had landed him in a position to implement some unpopular decisions among the very people his heart's desire was to serve day after day.  That Tuesday afternoon, he chose to find solace in enjoying one of the first beautiful spring days of the year at the highest natural place he could get to in Atlanta.  And there, he finally started to study.

Sure, I can spend the rest of my life regretting that my Tony spent his final day on this earth taking care of house chores to make my life easier.  It certainly wasn't a glamorous day. 

Or, I can rejoice that he spent his final hours on this earth doing what Jesus calls us all to do - to love and serve others.  Jesus says in Mark 10:43-45, "...whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be a slave to all.  For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve..."

Tony's final words to me, via text, came from the top of Stone Mountain.  It was as if they were scripted from heaven so that I would find comfort in them for the rest of my life:

"I'm at the top, starting to study. I wish you were here with me. It is beautiful up here, almost as beautiful as you."

And I know in my heart, that a little over an hour later, Tony heard these words from the God of the Universe:

"Well done, good and faithful servant!" ~ Matthew 25:21

Dearly loved,

Melissa

How He Loves

"He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy..." so goes the lyrics to a song that continues to comfort my heart.

It's the song "How He Loves" from Crowder's latest album. I recall downloading the song on Itunes a few nights after I received news that a friend, Debbie, had lost her battle with cancer. I remember singing that song in church the next Sunday, Tony by my side. It was as if Debbie was singing that song down from heaven, telling me that God loves us so much more than we could ever fathom on this earth. I was comforted through my tears that day.

Less than 2 months later, that song came to me again.

The very night after receiving the tragic news about my husband, I awoke in painful sobbing that I had never known before. I didn't even know what to cry out to God. I groaned. And in that groaning, God brought this song to my heart. This time it was both Tony and Debbie singing it over me. How I celebrate that they know in full what we can only know in part on this earth - how very much He loves us. I celebrate their gain, I mourn my loss.

So I'm like this tree, bending beneath God's love and mercy. And funny thing, it seems in times where I just want to give up and topple over, this song comes out of nowhere to remind me again that I am in the very palm of God's hand. He is jealous for me.

Dearly loved,

Melissa

Maleeka

My friend, Steph, and her husband Tim call me Maleeka. Maleeka? Yes, Maleeka. She is a dear, dear friend, who I met in South Florida, and now lives in Pittsburg. Yes, Maleeka is a crazy name for those of you who see me as some poised Southern gal. Let me just give you a glimpse of our friendship...

She and I mail a stuffed "Henry the Talking Garden Gnome" back and forth, being sure to add a new accessory onto him every time and record a message in his belly that comes out in chipmunk language. Garden gnomes are long standing jokes among us - take no offense if you have garden gnomes in your yard - just know that if Steph ever discovers them, she is bound to take a picture and send it to me.

She couldn't make it to my 30th birthday surprise that sweet Tony planned for me. Instead, she mailed me Henry, along with my birthday gift, and paperdoll cut-out with her face glued to it. She was affectionately called "Flat Steph" and appeared in all my birthday photos.

She's the friend who will make you "pee" your pants over laughing so hard.

She's also the friend who rearranged her whole world so that she and her husband could drive 10+ hours to be here in time for the weekend of Tony's funeral. They were part of my "entourage" standing behind me at the visitation at the funeral home, at one point feeding a banana to sustain me. God used them to keep me standing that day and I am so very grateful.

I hope everyone can have a friend like Steph. She gives so freely one of the greatest gifts we can experience on this earth - laughter. She is another Proverbs 31 woman who can "laugh at the days to come."

Laughter seems like something my grieving soul should not experience right now. Yet, I find myself laughing almost every day. Actually, the day after the funeral, the day I absolutely dreaded for I did not know what it would bring, was filled with laughter. Over the course of the day visiting with friends and family, we laughed til we cried about the funny things my husband did over the years. He was unique in every way, and now that I look back and continue to hear new stories, I must admit all his quirks were very funny. If he were here, he'd be laughing too. He had this big belly laugh that was so infectious.

So even through my tears and my pain, I will choose to laugh every opportunity I can. And I better get my stomach muscles ready for a lot of laughter because I'm heading up to see Steph in just a couple weeks...

Dearly loved,
Maleeka

My Mom

There is no greater woman on this earth to me than my mom. She is a priceless treasure, no words can adequately describe how much she means to me. No words.

She is the constant in my life that keeps me going, giving me encouragement when I need it, wisdom and tough advice at just the right times, and hugs that make the bad days seem a little more bearable. She has walked with me through the best days of my life, and she has walked with me through the worst. I collapsed into her lap the moment I found out that Tony was gone. Her only words were that she wished she could take away my pain. And I know she meant every word.

Oh, how I just adore every moment I can spend with her - no matter if we're walking on the beach or just watching endless hours of HGTV. Tony doted on her too - and she was one of his biggest fans and supporters. I am so blessed to call her mom.

She is a Proverbs 31 woman, and since there really are no words more fitting, I will leave today's blog with these verses:

"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: 'Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.' Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. " ~ Proverbs 31: 25-30

Dearly loved, and so grateful for my mom,
Melissa

Girlfriends and best friends...

Let me introduce you to an amazing friend in my life, Casey. She was fondly called CaseyMac in college due to her last name starting with "Mc." I shortened her name to "Mac" so I may refer to her as both. You might want to remember that if you are keeping up with my blog, for I think she'll be mentioned over and over again.

Last night I saw this facebook re-post and sent it to her because it describes her so well:

'If you have a Bestfriend that will do everything for you, be there for you through thick n thin, love you unconditionally, even w/ all your faults, and be the first one there to pick you up when you fall; and give you a much needed kick in the ... when necessary, then post this to your status. She will know who she is!! ♥'"

Our friendship began in second grade, evolving from see-saw partners on the playground, to ballet buddies at dance, to college roommates for 3 years, to the matron of honor at my wedding, to my "voice of reason" as I sort through these days since Tony left this earth. She has two adorable little people who I love so much - Chloe Melissa, my middle namesake, and Claire, and baby Kilgore on the way. Her husband is a mighty man of God, Kevin.

Mac was right beside me on my wedding day and right beside me on my 2 year anniversary too - not physically, but only a phone call away. She was the one I called in tears that morning and throughout that hard day.

I am so blessed to have such dear women as Casey and others (you know who you are) to speak Truth to me, love me as I am, and add such value to my life. Three of these women, Amanda, Karen, and Holly, served alongside me on my anniversary at City of Refuge. Amanda struck up a conversation with a lady sitting alone. I came over a few minutes later, then Holly and Karen. After telling us about her hard times that led to homelessness, she asked why we were there serving. I told her about Tony and our story and how my friends came to support me. She looked at my girlfriends and said to them, "wow, these are good friends. " She went on to say, "I don't have any friends. I've been stabbed in the back too many times and have decided that God is my only friend."

In that moment, God reminded me of a night right before I left for college in 1998. I was crying out to God, scared to death of leaving my family to venture into life on my own for the first time. I begged Him to bring me friends, Godly friends, to come alongside me to be my family away from home. Boy, has He delivered over the last 12 years.

I told this lady at City of Refuge that I had prayed for these ladies long ago and that God answered my prayer. Tears began to stream down her face as she asked, "You can really ask God for friends?" Yes, dear sister, yes.

God gave Tony amazing friends too. Guess you really can't refer to them as "boyfriends," maybe "guyfriends." So whatever you mighty men of valor are, you meant the world to Tony and mean the world to me.

One such man is Tony's best friend, John. The first time I saw John after Tony's death, the only words I could get out through my tears were "thank you for leading Tony to the Lord." John did the greatest thing any friend could do, and I am forever grateful. I could write a book on John and Tony's adventures...more on John, his beautiful wife and daughter, another day.

Dearly loved,

Melissa

Hand Holdin'

Today, I had the precious honor of having a front row seat to one of the highlights of my last 6 weeks - my adorable 5-year-old neice, Haley, starring in her school musical, Stone Soup. My 3-year-old nephew Caden was part of it too, but he stood in the very back with his hands over his face most of the time - he was so embarassed but had the cutest "grumpy" face. I could hear Uncle Tony snickering from heaven over Caden, and as Haley told her mom, he was "hootin'" and "hollerin'" for her. He had the best seat in the house, for sure.

I love these 2 little people so much. One of my favorite things they do is grab my hand to hold it - always when we are walking near cars, but sometimes at the most unexpected times, like today at Haley's celebration lunch. To me, it's their silent way of saying they love me and trust me to help protect them.

It reminds me of the verse in Isaiah 41:13:
"For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you."

The second night after Tony's accident, I awoke around 1 a.m. to my right hand clinched into a fist so tightly that it physically hurt. I was very confused and thought that I was just having a strange dream. I awoke again to painful sobbing at 6 a.m. and grabbed my phone. I saw that a good friend, James, had emailed me that very verse above at 12:56 a.m. My crying subsided as I realized that it was God holding my right hand in my sleep to reassure me that He is with me, He is capturing my every tear. He knows my pain. He will never leave me or forsake me. I have felt such a peace about this Truth ever since that night. Thank you, James, for your obedience to the Holy Spirit in sending that email to me.

Okay, okay, I am hearing from lots of you that I am leaving you in tears each time you read my blog, so here is my attempt to make you laugh or at least smile. I came across Tony's journal from when we first started dating in the fall of 2006. Speaking of hand-holding, he had written in his journal about the first time he held my hand. I always appreciated how reserved he was in jumping into any physical affection in our relationship until he felt the timing was right. As I recall, we were thumb wrestling at our friend Jeremy's house, and Mr. Smooth Tony somehow managed to wrangle my hand into his. Oh, sweet memories. I told him countless times that I hoped we would still be so in love and holding hands when we were both old and gray, just like my Pop and Grandma did even after 48 years of marriage.

How I long to hold Tony's hand again, but I know having the God of the Universe hold my hand is even sweeter. Hold my hand tightly, Lord, and don't ever let go.

Dearly loved,
Melissa