Release...

I'm chewing on a new word for 2012. I suppose you could call it a New Year's resolution of sorts. For the past 3 years, I've been finding a word to focus on each year...2010, in retrospect, was HOPE, for that's what the Lord gave me to keep me going that unbearable year. 2011 was RESTORE as I trusted the Lord to begin to gently restore my life and my heart.

And 2012...this year's word is RELEASE.

Release...to let go. One definition in Webster says it means to "give up in favor of another."

And one of my verses to go along with this word is Phil. 3:13b-14:
"But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

In the first verse above, Paul includes the word forgetting. In doing some study, I learned that in this context, he did not intend for that word to mean that we are to have no recollection of something in our past. Instead, he was encouraging that we leave what is in the past behind us...to keep things in perspective as far as what must be left behind for the benefit of moving ahead in the journey toward heaven.

Leave what is behind.

For me that means, that though I will always carry Tony in my heart, that his life and his love for me has made an eternal impact on my life, my husband in the physical sense is in the past. He must be left there; at some point, in some way, I must let him go.

Release.

It's hard. It's so very hard. From the moment I said "yes" to Tony's marriage proposal, and even more so, from the moment I said "I do," I couldn't help but feel a sense that my spouse would always be a part of my future. Always. Sure, every married couple says that part in the vows about "until death do us part," but I would imagine the majority of us envision ourselves as very old before that ever happens, while in our hearts, hoping the good Lord takes us both at the same time.

I mean, that's what happened in "The Notebook." Am I right? 

Today marks just 3 days short of it being 23 months since Tony departed this earth. 

3 days short of 23 months.

That's the exact amount of time we were married.

Yep, that's it. That's all we were given. That was our allotment of days. Of course, we never knew it; we didn't see our marriage ending. I dreamed of growing old with Tony... old, and still as stuck on each other as we were those first few months we dated. We were inseparable.

Inseparable.

Yet, God, in His infinite wisdom, was not surprised when our time came to a close, when the final hour darkened on our beautiful love story.

I often reflect on my entire life, all 3 decades of it, and wonder how God felt as He watched it unfold until now, as He knew the road carved out for me, uniquely just for me. He has seen my triumphs, my success, my joy; he has seen my missteps, my trials, my sin, my pain. He has orchestrated moments that impact my faith, my relationship with Him for eternity...moments of pure bliss, moments of utter desperation.

Yet, all those moments join to create a breathe-taking painting, a one-of-a-kind story, the story of Melissa Gardner, now Edge. He sees the scenes, the chapters yet to be lived. He sees what's ahead.

And because I am His, He knows that in the end lies my Ultimate Prize—my Jesus.

So, He calls me to press on ... to let go ... to release

... that which must remain in my past so that I can strain with all that is in me toward my future, whatever my future may hold.

I'm slowly, ever so slowly, in the process of letting go of my sweet husband. Letting go, always remembering. And I know that Tony loved me so very much, he would not want me to hold on for too long.

Dearly loved, 
Melissa

Comparing Tennis Shoes

Off and on this past year, I start to feel anxious over the amount of stuff I have in storage (in about 3 different places, and that's down from 5!); stuff of Tony's, stuff of mine, stuff of our lives together.  Stuff.  Suffocating stuff.  No one ever teaches you in school what a daunting task it is to figure out what to do with all that stuff left behind.

I honestly don't know all the stuff I even own.  A few months back, I finally cleaned out an extra large storage unit I moved most of our belongings into a few months after Tony died. As I sorted through box after box, bag after bag, memories flooded my mind. I fought most back; I was in "clean out" mode, not reminisce mode. But there was one item that I just couldn't let go.

It stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was Tony's all-white K-Swiss tennis shoes.

Yep, I said K-Swiss, like straight out of the 90s. And these shoes, they were so uncool, so out of style. I recall wrinkling my nose at them when he would wear them when we were dating; I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I kept my thoughts to myself. I was honestly thinking that one day, when we were married, those tennis shoes would be on their way to Goodwill. I would make it my mission to update his tennis shoes.

And, as his wife, I tried. He stood his ground that they were perfectly fine, they were expensive shoes, and they did not need to be replaced. I bargained, I begged, I attempted many a deal, and I failed. The truth is, Tony just didn't care what people or culture or popularity dictated when it came to those shoes, and really when it came to most things. He was his own unique, sometimes quirky self; he didn't need anyone else influencing him otherwise.

He wasn't much for comparing his life with others; he didn't succumb to the comparison trap.

Those shoes describe so well how I feel walking around in my new "normal" life without Tony. This week I was chatting with another 30-something widow and I just had to proclaim that there was nothing "normal" about our "new normal." Widows who are in their 30s make up less than 1% of all widows. What's "normal" about that?

Still, I long to feel "normal" again. I'm getting there in some ways. Folks who know my story don't so much feel sorry for me, anymore. Yet, when I'm around folks who don't know Tony or our story, I feel as if I just don't quite fit in. And when the unavoidable opportunity arrises to share what has happened in the last 2 years, I mostly get puzzled looks like I must be some sorta crazy for telling of such tragedy without tears. I almost always leave out the way Tony left this earth; that's like giving an unexpected sucker punch to the gut.

Best I can explain it...I'm feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I'm uncomfortable with this in between stage of life I find myself in. I'm over the intensity of grief, but I'm not done grieving. I'm technically single but don't want much to do with being single. I'm a widow but I don't want my identity wrapped up in it.

I want God to continue to use my story, but I'm struggling with wanting to control my circumstances, my outcomes. I'm wrestling with the "what if's," with the "how's it gonna turn outs."

It's like I've got these K Swiss tennis shoes on, while everyone else has on the latest Chucks.  I'm trying to find my place, my next part of my story, but I've got these things on my feet that make me feel so uncomfortable, awkward. When do I get to upgrade my shoes?

And as my counselor so gently led me onto the other day, I'm finding myself comparing my K Swiss circumstances to all those who are living up life in Chucks, to others whose lives seem so "normal" and desirable and less painful, to others who get to wake up to their husbands every morning, to others who get to walk through life with their spouse regardless of what's on their feet.

Comparison. I know better. I know it's dangers.

And I KNOW the plans, the unique plans God has for me are more than I could have ever asked for or dreamed, if not in this life, then most definitely in the life to come. So a song that is played almost on repeat on the radio right now is so perfectly on repeat in my mind. It's "Whatever You're Doing" by Sanctus Real (lyrics and song can be found here).

Oh, and I should confess that I did give Tony's shoes away to Goodwill a few months back. They sure would come in handy right now as I seek to step out of the comparison trap. I pray whoever is wearing them is not worried about what others think of him. I certainly won't be the judge again!

Dearly loved,
Melissa

On Turning 32...

So I wrote the first half of this blog post the week before my birthday, but I'm just getting around to publishing. I can't help but laugh as I reflect on what actually happened in the days that followed...

Jan. 16, 2012:

It's 6 days before my birthday. I'll be turning 32.
32.

I know, I know, 32 is so young. It's not that I have anything against this age or any age I turn...I mean, I might as well embrace each year...there's no turning back.

Yet, 32, it's bothering me. I'm weepy. I feel unsettled. I'm dreading it a bit.

Life is not as it should be at 32. It's just not.

And I know there are countless others who can relate to that very statement, whatever age they are.

Life is just not as it should be. It's just not.

I often wonder if God looks over His earth, His people, His creation with that very same thought. Life is not as it should be. I mean, He created this beyond amazing earth for Him to commune with us, to walk intimately among us.

And it's all been tainted by generations and generations of sin. This was not His original plan.

He knew before He created the world that His Master Plan, His Plan A, would be thwarted.

So He created a redemptive, yet beautiful Plan B in sending His Son Jesus to make atonement for our sin at the cross.

At the cross.
Redemption. Restoration. Hope.

I am so incredibly grateful that God gave us all a second chance, a chance to start over, to be born again, clean, forgiven, a new creation.

My prayer as I enter into another year of life is that I will keep the cross ever present in my heart, in my mind. I pray that as I look at it as God's Perfect Plan B, I will see beauty in my own life, my own Plan B.

January 25, 2012:
On January 21, the night before my birthday, came a test of those very words. Just when I thought I had overcome my "32 pity party" by enjoying a fun birthday celebration with my closest friends, life was interrupted by a Plan B once again.

On our way to my annual Korean Karaoke tradition, I was in the front seat of my friend's car as we crashed into a dead-stopped car in the center lane of I-85. As we braced ourselves for the unavoidable, I thought in that instance, "well, here goes Plan B."

God protected us and the folks in the other car that night with the help of seat belts and air bags. Of course, I was sad that my birthday plans didn't turned out how I had hoped. But as scary as it was and as unfortunate for my friend totaling her car, I saw glimpses of beauty.

I saw all of my sweet friends, friends who were the first to arrive at the mountain the night Tony was missing, friends who have stuck close by my side in the aftermath of Tony's death and friends who God has so perfectly brought into my "new normal" life in the past year, now standing with me on the side of the interstate. I saw them huddled in a circle praying for everyone involved. I saw relief and hope in their eyes, as we acknowledged that this Plan B could have been so much worse, as we thanked our God for the ability to walk away from the crash and thanked Him for His precious gift of life.

And after a couple hours at the hospital, the 4 of us involved in the accident were even able to muster up a smile as we rang in my actual birthday waiting on our pain medicine prescriptions at the pharmacy. The rest of my birthday was most certainly a blur!

32. I never imaged it would begin with such an unexpected bang. Still, as I had originally written at the end of my post above: "I will choose to trust God; I will choose to not give up. I will choose to keep walking."

Dearly loved, at 32,
Melissa

Feeding on Faithfulness

There are a couple of Psalms that I have kept on repeat in my Bible reading over last few months...Psalm 37 and 73.  I find those to be two of those all-encompassing, showing me Who God is, chapters especially on the hardest of days.

It says in Ps. 37:3, "Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture." I have written next to this very verse "feed on faithfulness." It came from Louie Giglio sharing that phrase during a series back several years ago at 7:22.

The Psalm goes on to talk about how the wicked, those who do not follow Christ, will perish, but for those who put their trust, their faith, those who stake their very life on the precious blood of Christ, the Psalmist writes, "Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun." (Psalm 37:5-6).

Feed on faithfulness.

Even when it does not make sense. Even when I don't feel like it. Even when my vision, my hope is so blurred by tears. Even when life doesn't turn out the way it's "supposed to," how I'd hoped it would. Even when I watch what seems like everyone around me getting to enjoy those things that now, without my husband, are my shattered dreams.

Feed on faithfulness. Feed on His Word. Find refuge and rest in Jesus. Let Him hold my hand. Do good. Trust God. Keep His commands. Find my delight, all my satisfaction in Him.

That's easier said than done. Because it's hard. Because there's days when I'd just rather Jesus come back than have to face another day on my own, alone...added on top of continuing to hear and witness heart-wrenching stories of others suffering too. It just overwhelms me.

Yet, if life was easy, and predictable, and always blissful and pain-free, then I really wonder if my faith in Christ would be EVERYTHING to me? Would I yearn to follow Him, to lean on Him, to desperately delight in Him and Him alone?

He's the only One who satisfies my soul.
There is no one, not one thing, other than Him.

As I was going to sleep a few months back, I couldn't help but notice and snap this very picture:

Here's my sweet puppy Ralphy chewing on the ribbon place-holder in my Bible. In her own puppy way, she was reminding me to feast on the Word of God.

To feed on faithfulness.

"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: 25-26.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Good Morning, Moon

"...And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." ~Matthew 28:20

I left my parents house early Sunday morning to head down to a very busy day at Buckhead Church. Few things get me excited about waking up before day break, but the amazing things I get to do at church are definitely worth loosing sleep over!

I left my puppy in the care of my parents, but as I drove out, I realized I was not alone. I was met by the beautiful full moon. It was God saying hello, for sure.

Now, I won't wish upon myself what is an ongoing reality for so many folks who go to work at o' dark thirty every day. No thank you. But of all the early mornings, I needed that extra dose of light that morning...an extra dose of light into my heart, into my soul.

I've written before about how the moon just entrances me...I see a beauty in it like nothing else on earth. It puts me in such awe of my God. And this particular day (the day before Tony's birthday), the moon reminded me of a word I have been dwelling on this Christmas season...Emmanuel, God with us.

God is with us. 
Just like Jesus promised at the end of His Great Commissioning in the verse above.
Surely, He is with us...til the very end of the age.
Even in the darkness, He is with us.
Like the moon glowing in the night sky, He is with us.
Emmanuel.
God with us.

So often I hear folks praying and asking the Lord to be with us. I want to interrupt and remind them that He already is. We just need to be open to Him, to be still enough to rest on His promise, to feel Him, to see Him, to hear Him. Oh, yes, He is always with us. It's just that sometimes we cloud Him with lesser things. He's still there, even when it's cloudy.

I drove that hour dwelling on that simple, yet profound Truth. 
Comfort.
The moon continued to peer at me, through the trees, over the horizon, glowing. 
Hope.
I reached that part of my drive that makes me cringe; it's the part where I can't help but see Stone Mountain towering over the horizon, even at a distance. Just before it came into sight, the first hint of the sunrise beamed light into my driver's side window. Blinded, I looked over to my passenger side to see the faint white of the moon. It was sunshine meeting the moon. Day meeting the night. On either side, I was surrounded by light...one that sees me in the darkness and one that greets me in the bright.

As it says in Isaiah 30:21, "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" 

Walk on.
Drive on.
I faced that giant granite rock; I faced it with light on either side; I faced it with a Truth whispering gently, "I am with you." I faced it despite my sadness, missing my Tony, wishing he was with me to celebrate his birthday.

I miss him.

Still, I am so incredibly grateful for the Light of my Savior to keep me going, to encourage, to inspire, to guide me on the path that continues to be lit...one night at a time, one day at a time, one step, one mile, one birthday, one year.

Bright. My future, even without my Tony, is woven in light. Because God is with me.
Always.
Emmanuel.

Dearly loved, celebrating Tony, celebrating Light,
Melissa

Immeasurably More...

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!" ~ Ephesians 3:20-21

We are in a series at Buckhead Church based on this very verse. My boss Billy spoke this past Sunday about the vast, often contradictory differences between what our society considers "more" and what God sees as "more." So often, I feel like we can easily take these verses out of context, thinking that when the apostle Paul prayed about "more," he was dreaming of a good-paying job, and a good-looking spouse, and 2.5 well-behaved kids, and a well-to-do, comfortable life...that American Dream that's more than we could ever imagine, right?

Right? Billy went on to speak about how folks keep searching for that "more to life" in every season as they get older, eventually making it to retirement and realizing their "more" is still not enough. He even spoke about a quarter-life crisis among folks in their mid-20s who graduate from college with big shot dreams of finally "making it" only to uncover that nagging question..."isn't there more to life than this." This last statement hit the nail on the head for me...for that was exactly my sentiments when I graduated from college.

Allow me to indulge for a moment, but I will spare you the monotonous details. I will say that "little Miss Perfect" graduated from college having achieved everything I set my mind out to...a 4.0, all the top academic awards, student body president, the mascot (I know, random!) and the list goes on and on. And as I wrapped up my last exam of my college career, days away from crossing that stage decked out in all my "earned" regalia, my 22-year-old self had a complete melt-down. I will never forget driving down a back country road, balling my eyes out, and finally verbalizing the burning ache that I just could not deny any more. I cried out to God and honestly admitted that for 22 years I had been living for things that were not of eternal value. I was living for things that I thought satisfied my heart, my "more," when in reality they left me so very empty.

There, I had said it.
Those were words I could not take back.
Those were words that, though I didn't know it at the time, would set the very trajectory of my life.

And rolling in my heart during this very "crisis of life and faith" were the very verses listed above. I did not know what God was going to do with my life, but I know what He was able to do...and it was "immeasurably more" than I could ever ask or imagine. His more, not mine.

Don't get me wrong. I certainly spent my 20s wrestling with this very tension - my version of "more" for my life versus God's "immeasurably more." I could see and envision and often control my "more" while God's vision required complete trust and surrender. I look back over my journal entries from that decade and over and over again I read the prayers of surrender, honest cries of my heart, of lifting my desires, my wants to the Lord, only to take them back, and then to re-surrender them all over again. It was a literal tug of war of the "more's."

Tony wasn't even my perfect version of "more" for my husband. If I can be candid, he was a little too quirky for me to begin with, he asked too many questions, he was a little too intense. One of my dear friends laughs now as she recounts how she kept thinking I was gonna "blow it" with Tony just because he didn't fit to a "T" my imaginary version of the perfect spouse.

Turns out that Tony was my "immeasurably more" husband, hand-selected by God, to lavish me with unconditional, extravagant love - love that has seeped into the depths of my heart and unleashed an absolute confidence in my soul that my Jesus loves me so immeasurably deep and wide and long and high...it's truly and utterly more than I could have asked or imagined.

My life, my faith, my relationship with My Savior, will be forever "more" because of my Tony.

And my Jesus continues to whisper to me..."oh my dear Melissa, that was just the beginning of immeasurable...I have so much more in store for you...just Trust Me."

So, though it's not always easy, I choose to Trust Him. Though my "immeasurable" has led me through tragedy and unimaginable pain, it is at the same time beautifully "more than I could have ever asked or imagined." That might not make sense to anyone else, but in some God-sized way, it makes perfect sense to me.

Dearly Loved, living for immeasurable,
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