Little Miss Independent

I'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.

It feels good.
I feel happy most days.
It feels a little like normal.
Normal...now that's not a word I ever thought I'd use to describe my life ever again.

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:
"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."

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.

Ever.

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.

Yet, I have to remind myself that the common denominator through all of these circumstances is me. Me.
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.
Me.

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:

An independent woman.

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.

I mean, thanks, Kelly Clarkson, for a cool song, but honestly, what young girl aspires to become that?

Still, there was insight in that phrase. It was a foreshadowing to a very thorn in my side...little miss independent.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I suppose why these two word pictures I stare at each morning as I get ready are so fitting.

I wanna stay desperate for my God, desperate for His Presence. Desperate.
Dependent on Him.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Voy a Espana!

Tomorrow I'll set foot in a country Tony and I dreamed of going, even living...beautiful Spain.

I'm heading there as a co-leader of a mission trip with 8 college students from Georgia State University who are giving up their spring break to invest in the lives of students in Sevilla, Spain. 

This trip is all for God's glory, for the people of Spain to know Jesus, and for these college students to grow further and faster than they ever dreamed possible in their faith. I go just to be a part of it all, to be an empty vessel poured into by God in order to pour out onto others. My prayer is that it's nothing of me, that's it's completely God's Presence going before me, before us.

Yet, I can't help but smile when I think about how this trip also has "Tony" written all over it.

In addition to Georgia State being Tony's alma mater, Spain is the one place Tony always dreamed of going to pursue an international degree. Spanish was his second language, and boy, am I wishing I had that skill right now as I cram Spanish terms in my forgetful brain! Though it's certainly bittersweet to go without him, I know he would be thrilled for me, I know he's cheering me on.

And so, I carry his legacy with me.

His legacy of appreciating other cultures and of making friends with folks so different from himself...all with the heart to exemplify Jesus to them...

The people of Spain need Jesus. Most have grown up in a religion that is merely a forced, cultural experience, void of the love, hope, and peace found in a growing relationship with Jesus Christ.

Our team will be partnering with a local church there, Parque Este, which is modeled closely after our church. We plan to conduct a series of presentations in high schools and a service project throughout the week, all leading up to a concert and outreach event for the community with worship leader Spanish Seth Condrey. Our hope is that many new faces will come to learn more about the church and ultimately come to know Jesus, not just as a religious figure, but as their one and only Savior.

I also carry with me Tony's legacy of challenging others to pursue their passions, to not settle for the ordinary life...

Tony always encouraged my passion for college students. My heart is FOR this generation; I just love them, I do! Honestly, not a week goes by that I’m not hanging out with at least a few 18 to 24 year olds. It was my college years that really set the foundation for my faith in Jesus, so my heart’s desire is to “pay it forward” for generations to come. When the opportunity arose for me to co-lead a college mission trip, I was in. I can see Tony smiling now. I knew I was gonna love being a part of these students' lives, but we have not even left yet, and my time with them has been beyond any blessing I could have wished for.

My heart melts to think about worshiping in Sevilla...worship music was how Tony best connected with our Savior and some of my sweetest flashbacks of Tony are of him swaying, with hands raised, singing his heart out to God. And, in Sevilla, we'll be worshipping in Spanish...how beautiful!

So, pray for us, pray for Spain, pray for God to do immeasurably more in and through us than we ever dreamed possible. Keep up with us on our blog - http://studentsforseville.wordpress.com/.

Dearly loved, in Spain...
Melissa

I will see goodness...

I've just come to accept the reality that my emotions run like a roller coaster.  Some days I'm all down and out, other days I'm upbeat and happy.  Such is the mystery of my grief.

And so goes my blog - sometimes sad, sometimes happy.  Today, I choose for my blog to be happy.

It was a week ago today when I actually scripted this blog post.  It was the day that I intentionally chose to see goodness throughout my day.

I awoke to read the end of Psalm 27.

"I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living." ~ Ps. 27:13

I have magnetic letters in my cube at work, which I use to make fun messages on one of my metal cabinets.  That day when I got to work, I changed the message to "I will see goodness."

That evening, I made a "laundry list" of goodness I saw throughout the rest of that day:

I discovered lime flavored popcorn. Yummy!
I went to my first ballet class in 13 years (and I LOVED it!).
I laughed a lot with my colleagues and literally left work stating, "I can't believe I get paid to work at a place that I love so much."
I got an amazing phone call regarding a very cool legacy being set up in Tony's memory - details to come, but it is nothing short of amazing.
I made some encouraging connections within my new community. 
I received news that I'm getting a big fat tax refund (though I can hear Tony reminding me that ideally I would have never given the government that much of my money to begin with!  Circumstances beyond my control caused it, but it was perfect timing to get my money back!)
And those are just the highlights that my forgetful self can actually remember!

Now, it's not as if God just looked down from his heavenly throne and wiggled some puppet strings to cause goodness just to fall out of the sky.  I mean, I'm sure he's capable of that.

It was more of my own mindset..my choice...to actually look for goodness, to choose to see it, to ask God to show it to me.

It is the perfect reminder that my God is good.  He's the creator of goodness.

I've kept that mindset for a week now; I highly recommend it.  Sure, the days to follow weren't jam packed full of tax refunds and amazing phone calls, but I did see goodness in the little things instead. 

Perhaps I'll look for good even on the worst of days.

I find it quite fitting that the 23rd Psalm, probably the "most read" passage of scripture at funerals, ends with verse 6: "Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever."

Dearly loved, seeing goodness,
Melissa

Shipwrecked...

I've been reading through the book of Acts off and on since January.  I finally finished it last night.

I had never really paid much attention to the final 2 chapters, where Paul, as a prisoner en route to Rome, becomes part of a raging storm and ends up being shipwrecked on the island of Malta.

What struck me is that Paul's fate as part of the wreckage was of no fault of his own.  Actually, it says in Acts 27:10, "So Paul warned them, 'Men, I can see that our voyage is going to be disastrous and bring great loss to ship and cargo, and to our own lives also.'" But those in charge of the ship did not listen.

I'm dealing with bits of anger since the one year mark.  Apparently its just a normal part of grieving.  However, it's a new emotion for me in my grief journey.

I'm angry that I had absolutely no control over my entire life being turned upside down over the last year.  I had no choice in my marriage being ripped apart.  I could not have stopped what happened to my Tony.  I was not there to intervene.

Instead, I'm just left to deal with the consequences.  I'm left to start completely over.

I feel as if my heart, my life, my dreams, have been entirely shipwrecked.

Shipwrecked.

Aside from relationships with family and friends, every other part of my life has drifted away like debris floating on the ocean, tossed and turned by the crashing waves. I will never be the same.  And I will never recover the wreckage.

And, barely staying afloat with a plank of faith under one arm and a plank of my family and friends under the other, I wade into an unfamiliar shore.  What other choice do I have, except to drown in the sea of my sorrow?

Yet, I'm so grateful that like Paul, God's grace has met me in my shipwreck.

Acts 27:39 to 28:2 explain:

"When daylight came, they did not recognize the land, but they saw a bay with a sandy beach, where they decided to run the ship aground if they could. Cutting loose the anchors, they left them in the sea and at the same time untied the ropes that held the rudders. Then they hoisted the foresail to the wind and made for the beach. But the ship struck a sandbar and ran aground. The bow stuck fast and would not move, and the stern was broken to pieces by the pounding of the surf.

"The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners to prevent any of them from swimming away and escaping. But the centurion wanted to spare Paul’s life and kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and get to land. The rest were to get there on planks or on other pieces of the ship. In this way everyone reached land safely.

"Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold."

My Malta is Buckhead.  And fortunately, like Paul, I find my new community to be so friendly, so welcoming, so kind.

It's been a beautiful collision, running aground in a place I could have never asked for or imagined.  And I trust that my new island is all part of God's perfect plan to gently rebuild and restore my heart and my life.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Aftermath...

I downloaded the latest album by my favorite band, Hillsong United, yesterday.  It's entitled "Aftermath."

Aftermath.  That word strikes me right at the core.  It causes me to reflect on my own "aftermath" experience, my aftermath after tragedy, and the aftermath of such an amazing man going on to glory.

What has happened in a year full of so much heartache, so many tears, so much pain?  What good has come out of it? And my most pressing question, what glory has been given to Jesus?

For He is the only reason I'm here in the aftermath.

Now hear me when I say that the "good" is not the answer to the "why."  Just because good has come out of tragedy, it doesn't mean it was the reason for the tragedy.  It just means that our God is big enough to use the most horrible circumstances to bring good and to bring hope to a broken world, all while bringing Glory to Himself.

He creates beauty out of ashes.  And He creates beauty out of my aftermath.

I passed our friend Scott in the hallway at church today.  A year ago this very day, Scott brought that message of Hope, that message of the Truth of who Jesus is to over 700 people at Tony's memorial service, a standing room only crowd of the very people Tony had made it his life mission to invest in.  God equipped Scott so perfectly; I sat there in complete awe amidst so much shock and pain. Even more amazing was the fact that no one who had a part in the service, from speakers to the musicians, had consulted prior to the service.  God scripted the order of worship and all that was said that day.  I recall that all I could utter was, "God, what are you doing?  What are you up to?" 

And that was just the beginning of the aftermath.

A few weeks later, through circumstances only God could orchestrate, my story of trusting Jesus in the midst of tragedy was shared with a crowd of thousands at the Easter Service for Passion City Church.

A month after that, I was attending a Beth Moore conference where I felt the prompting of the Lord to begin a blog about my journey as a widow.  That's is where "Loving on the Edge" was birthed.  Just yesterday, it hit 25,000 page views.  I take no credit.  God scripts.  I write.  Almost all of my blogs come during the very hours when I'm at my wits end, when I feel I have nothing left to give, much less to write, when I can't even articulate complete sentences.

Over the last 12 months, my aftermath has included hundreds of messages from family, friends and even strangers of how Tony's life, his passing, and my response has impacted them for eternity.  For some, it has led them to accept Jesus as their Savior; for others, it has brought them to examine their faith with a fresh lens and has given them hope that God is big enough to handle their overwhelming odds. 

I don't tell you all of this to brag on on anything of myself, or even anything of my husband.  Honestly, I'd trade all of this in just to have my Tony back, even for just 5 minutes.  But since that is impossible, I choose to boast in my Jesus, my Lord, for creating beauty in my aftermath.  To Him alone belongs all the glory.

He's in my aftermath.  He IS my aftermath.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

On the heels of dawn...

Well, I did it.  I did.  I put on my "big girl pants" and I moved out of my parents home and into my own place.

As always with me, the anticipation of the event was way more traumatic than the actual day.  I must say, I held up quite well, thanks to my rock-star "mover" mom and lots of family and friends praying and cheering me on.

Quite honestly, the most dreaded step was spending that first night surrounded once again with things that belonged to both Tony and me.  I fell down on my knees by our bed, which I had not even slept in since Tony died.  I cried out to God to give me the strength to even crawl in.  Tears began to flow as I realized that there was just one pillow instead of two.  How would this bed ever feel anything but empty from now on?  Still, I pressed on and into the Lord; I laid my Bible down in place of Tony's pillow. 

Finally, I fell asleep.

I awoke way too early the next morning.  All was dark and quiet in my new place, except for the faint chirping of birds outside my window.  It was the first sign of dawn.

Laying there and attempting to go back to sleep, I had a flashback to March 25 of last year, the morning after the day I learned of Tony's death.  I didn't sleep much that night either; I was awakened by that same chirping before the first rays of daylight.  That day I never thought the sun would rise again; it seemed so unfair for birds to be singing when the love of my life was not there to hear them. That was the first day of my journey into the sunset, my journey into months of darkness and sorrow, my journey into the battle of my life.

And now, almost 11 months later, I'm finding my way to the other side; my time in the darkest of night is giving way to faint rays of light.  Those sounds of birds in the darkness are my reminder that though I'm still grieving, I'm gettting closer to the sunrise.

I'm on the heels of dawn. 

These verses  from Psalm 57: 7-11 express the desire of my heart for this season...
"My heart, O God, is steadfast,
my heart is steadfast;
I will sing and make music.
Awake, my soul!
Awake, harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn.
I will praise you, Lord, among the nations;
I will sing of you among the peoples.
For great is your love, reaching to the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies."

Dearly loved, awakening dawn,
Melissa

The unseen...

The words in my favorite worship song "Tear Down the Walls" by Hillsong United cut me right to the core..."I don't need to see it to believe it."

They inspire me.  They remind me that I don't need to see Christ to believe in Christ.  I don't need to see God to know that He's at work in and around me.  I don't need to see Tony in heaven to know that he is in whole, unbroken, and complete in heaven.  I don't need to see my what is in my future to believe that the One who holds my future has it all in His capable hands.

I just don't need to see it to believe it.

I live that out by clinging to verses of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18:
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

I just want to live for the unseen.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

It's just part of my story...

I hate to admit it, but I've grown quite tired of hearing "I'm sorry."  I'm just all maxed out on sympathy.  I don't mean to sound ungrateful for the support I've received over and above anything I could ever imagine.

It's just that I'm beginning to grow accustomed to having this tragedy as part of my life.  I've found myself responding to "I'm sorry" these last few months with, "thank you, but it's all just part of my story."

I mean, what else do I say?  Sure, I could be all dramatic and burst into tears...or better yet, start into an endless monologue about how hard my life is.  But, crying and making people feel sorry for me are just two things I prefer not to do on a regular basis.

My last blog was almost one I didn't post because I didn't want folks to start getting all worried about me.  I posted it anyway because I also don't want folks to think that my journey is all rose-colored either.  I'm still in the throws of the battle of my life; sympathy is just not what fuels me.  Jesus, His Word, and encouragement from friends and family rank top on my list for spurring me on.

And my story, with all its joy, sorrow, and one day, triumph, is scripted perfectly, Divinely, all for God's glory.  It's main character is Jesus; He is IT for me.

I leave you with a few verses from a favorite hymn, "Blessed Assurance"...

"Perfect submission, all is at rest;
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
watching and waiting, looking above,
filled with his goodness, lost in his love.

"This is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long;
this is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long."

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Leaving Brenau, following my dream...

"I just want to do the God thing for my life. I don’t want to live a mediocre life. I want to live the life of my dreams. I want to live a life constantly challenging myself, and growing, and learning. I want to love to learn. I want to live a life as an example. I want to leave the world better than I found it. I want to learn how to love, and how to be loved." - an excerpt from Tony's journal - Jan. 2, 2002

I came across this journal entry a few weeks ago as I was preparing to announce the above decision - to leave Brenau to pursue full-time ministry.

Really, it speaks for itself.  I have Tony to thank for that.

Some are shocked that I am leaving a place I love so much.  Some are not.  Some completely understand my decision.  Some wonder what I am doing.

And my simple answer...I'm following my dream.

Even before Tony went onto glory, I have always answered the question, "What would you do as a career if you had no financial, relational, or geographic constraints?" ...very easily, ministry.

Now I didn't know for sure what all that ministry would entail, who I would minister to, where I would go, what I would do.

But the idea of waking each day and working at a place whose sole mission was to further the Kingdom of God just always gave me goose bumps.

Now, I am fully aware that we as followers of Jesus are to further His Kingdom no matter where we work or what we do.  But God does call those who are drawn into full-time ministry.  And I am fully confident that all my past experiences have led me to this new opportunity.

I will be the assistant to the campus pastor at Buckhead Church.  The position is a perfect mix of my administrative skill set and my relational bent, all thrown in with some blogging, some social media, some special projects, and so much more.  Truly, God scripted just the right job description in just the right environment.

I am so excited.

And those 4 words really don't do my excitement justice.

It is one more way God continues to restore my life through yet another "life unexpected" moment.  I wasn't even looking for a new career path, yet God dropped it in my lap anyway.

For all my Brenau family, please know my departure has no reflection on my affinity for my alma mater and the countless relationships God has placed in my life there.  It is certainly bittersweet to leave a place that has had a profound impact on my personal and professional development, starting way back as a soft-spoken, shy freshman over 12 years ago.  I left Brenau the first time as a graduate compelled to give back to an institution who invested so much in me.  I leave Brenau a second time with those exact same sentiments.  Thank you.

I believe Psalm 40:1-5 sums up my heart so well:
"I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the LORD and put their trust in him. Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare."

Dearly loved, and always a Brenau girl,
Melissa

He restores my soul

"He restores my soul." ~ Ps. 23:3

Oh 2011. I have never anticipated a new year like this one.

I woke up on New Year's Day proclaiming, "I'm still standing."

And I literally stood on 1-1-11 so long that my feet hurt and my back ached. I spent that day, and the following 3 days, serving over 21,000 college students at Passion in downtown Atlanta. And through those very, very long hours, God's spirit constantly whispered, "I will restore you Melissa."

I take no credit for my ability to not only still be standing, but to also be serving. It is my Jesus, my Jesus alone who enables me.

He alone is greater and stronger and higher.

And those exact words were sung the very first song of the conference. Picture all of Phillips Arena packed out with 18 to 22 year olds crying out to God with everything in them. There are no words.

I sat in awe, tears welling in my eyes, as I bowed my head and thanked my God that He loves me so intimately, so personally, that He meets me just where I am and restores me with not just simple whispers or tiny hellos but with indescribable moments, truly glimpses of heaven on earth.

Earlier that day, I was so touched, as was the rest of my team, to work alongside men being restored out of homelessness, as we collected thousands of socks and towels for local organizations in Atlanta, one of which will be City of Refuge.  My friend Karen and I even started a cheer with one of the men, "Socks and towels," something I truly never expected to find so much joy in.

That was just day 1. Day 2 brought a confirmation of my prayer for restoration in 2011. There in the "Go Center," part of an arena set up with organizations working to restore the poor all over the world, was a huge hello from the Lord - free-standing red letters as tall as me - RESTORE.

It was like those letters were covered and made red by the blood of Jesus. His pain for my restoration.  His pain for the restoration of the broken people of the world.

The last 2 days were truly a blur. I recall lots of laughter shared with old and new amazing friends, lots of crowd control as we directed seas of college students, and lots of moments blown away by Jesus.  I will never forget the late evenings after worship when the students were instructed to leave in silence, complete silence.  And 21,000 college students took God seriously enough to obey.  That, to me, gives me hope that a generation is rising up to go further and farther than ever before for the name of Jesus.

I left Passion utterly exhausted, yet so incredibly grateful to have poured out all of me for God's glory.  I crawled into bed last night, opened my Bible to the concordance and searched for the word "restore."  And I came to this passage, my prayer for 2011, from 1 Peter 5:10-11:

"And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen."

Dearly loved,
Melissa