Dreams and Sketches...

I'm beginning to sketch; my inspiration is returning. I'm dreaming again.

I'm dreaming big.

It was a little over 2 years ago when a blogged about my first dream of Tony since his passing. And in that dream Tony brought me paint cans - cans of 3 primary colors - to be used on the big blank canvas representing my life without him.

It's taken me this long to reset my eyes from that big white canvas; it's as if I was blinded to any color. And it even took a while for me to even see beyond it's "blankness" to remember the beautiful paintings, my very own art collection of my life, leading up to and during my time with my husband. Those are still coming back into clarity as I reflect on my blessed beginnings and my blessed time with Tony.

Blessed.

I feel as if it's time to start on the next piece in my collection. It's time to start thinking about what's it's gonna look like, what dreams it will unfold.

So, what am I dreaming about? As my pastor Andy Stanley says, "What are you working on big?" What keeps me up at night? What do I think about when I am inspired to make an impact on this world, when I think about the legacy I want to leave?

Well, lots of things, really.

I want to continue emptying my cup into the lives of college students and young 20-something women. I am convinced that if these girls go hard after God at their age, there is no telling how much further and farther they can go for the Kingdom in their lifetime. There's no stopping this generation. I'm a firm believer, and I just wanna be a part of it.

I want to keep learning and growing and being challenged at my dream job. I shake my head often as I thank my God for such an amazing place to work; it's really hard to refer to it as "work" for I enjoy it so much. I know my future is in the Lord's hands, but I certainly hope my future includes a long career in ministry at Buckhead Church.

This one's a stretch and a little hard to talk about...but, I want to be a wife and a mom. Yes, that means a wife, again. Now, I know this is gonna require some extra large "big girl" pants to even have the courage for the d-word...d.d.d.date. Ha! But I have given myself permission to desire for God to bring me a "kinsman redeemer" like He graciously gave to widowed Ruth in the Bible. So, pray for a Boaz for me, if you'd like, but even more, pray for my complete TRUST and contentment to be in Jesus.

But even more, my big dream, my really big dream that only God can make come true...well, that involves women I've never met, women I may never meet, women in totally different circumstances, women who live so completely opposite of me, women who may or may not know my Jesus, women I have little in common with...except for sharing the deep pain of loosing a husband. These women are widows like me.

Yet, they live in absolute poverty.
They live in countries where women are not valued.
They live in cultures where when they lose their husbands, they are pushed to the absolute margins of society.
They not only live with the pain of loss, but they live devoid of hope of anything ever changing in their lives.
They feel as if they have nothing, no one to care, no one to come alongside and lift them up...out of the pit they know as hopelessness.

And, there are over a million of them. Out of the 2.45 million widows in the world, almost half live in absolute poverty, poverty like we've never seen or experienced here in the States.

And that, that's what breaks my heart. That's what bothers me. That's who I think about when I daydream about my life's purpose.

And my dream, my heart's desire, is for God to open a door for me to help them, to come alongside someway, somehow. I want to share their lives, to tell their stories. I want to love those widows considered the last and the least, those widows on the margins, I want to love those widows...on the edge.

And I don't know how. I don't even know when. I'm in the very infant stages of a plan, a sketch. I do know that the Bible calls us to care for widows in distress. And there are over a million of them. This Saturday, June 23, is International Widow's Day, birthed out of what has become in the last few years as the "United Nations Plight of the Widow."

So, I'm writing this to ask for prayers for my dream and for God to lead me in His timing to what I am to do. I don't write this to make anything of myself; I'd most certainly never have put this on my "wish list" of things I want to do when I "grow up."

But these women have been impressed on my heart. These women, they need Hope and they need livelihoods restored and they need Jesus. And someone's gotta do something. Perhaps I'm one of those someone's.

Someone.

All I know for sure is that my life is not my own. I want more than anything for my dreams, my life canvases, my life's impact, to reflect the One I live for.

Dearly loved, sketching,
Melissa

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

From this day FORWARD...

For-ward (adverb): Toward or tending to the front; frontward: step forward; Into consideration: put forward...; In or toward the future: looking forward to...

Forward.

What would have been our 4 year wedding anniversary was last Thursday.

No plans were made. No special recognition. No hoopla. No Facebook post. No blog. Really, only a few folks knew or remembered.

And it was completely okay with me. I woke up. I got dressed. I went to work. I was supported and loved on by a few close friends and family. And then the day was over. Time moved on. It moved forward.

It's not that a big deal being made or not made was right or wrong. It was simply my choice. And I chose to spend the day in quiet reflection. I chose to let the day come and go, and to let my emotions come and go too.

It was the same a week prior when I chose to trade in Tony's car that I had been driving since his death. That's by far the biggest item of his I have had to part with. Sure, I could have held on longer, I just chose otherwise. I chose to walk away, to drive away, to drive forward.

Forward.

This is a word that God has continued to impress upon me for the last several weeks. I must admit each time I hear it, I just want to balk at it. I want to push back, to step back, to protest, to make excuses, to start to feel sorry for myself, to look for attention and affirmation for my backward-moving emotions.

I don't always want to move forward.

Moving forward is hard.

Moving forward requires letting go.

Moving forward is uncomfortable and scary and unknown.

Moving forward puts me face to face with a future that's uncertain, a future I can't see.

But that's where 2 Corinthians 5 comes in. It says in verse 7:

"For we live by faith, not by sight."

Faith.

The day after our anniversary, I pulled out our guest book from our wedding. My sweet friend Steph created a beautiful scrapbook amongst pages that our guests signed. I still can't bear to read all the well wishes from our loved ones, loved ones who never thought the beginning and end of our marriage would come so soon. 

Yet, I was struck by one particular page and picture.

This was one of our engagement photos. The phrase below it said "From This Day Forward."

I went digging for that very photo from group of photos our sweet friend Pon took for us after we were engaged. That's where I came across this candid shot.

It now seems like a more fitting picture for that phrase above. It's as if Tony is gently nudging me forward.

Forward.
From this day forward.
Forward.
By faith.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Paradise

Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus answered him, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise." ~ Luke 23:42-43

I love this exchange between Jesus and one of the criminals on the cross. I love that Luke included it in his account of Jesus' death. I picture so much going on in this scene. Insults being hurled, women crying, soldiers giving orders, 3 men struggling for every breathe. Death was on the doorstep. Pain was unimaginable.

For those 2 criminals on either side of Jesus, this was it; life was on it's final countdown; justice had been served. They were getting what they deserved in the eyes of those who enforce the law.

Yet, there was hope. Though one criminal "hurled insults," the other asked Jesus to remember him.

And just like that, by placing his faith in Jesus, this criminal entered paradise when he breathed his last.

Paradise. Heaven.

Absent in his earthly body; present with the Lord.

Present with the Lord.

Glory. Glory.

Jesus died for this criminal...and Jesus died for you, and for me, and for the whole world. When our life on earth is over, we can spend forever with Him in paradise...

If only, we accept Him as our Savior.

Tony made this very decision in his early 20's. I'll forever be grateful to his best friend, John Wheat, for modeling the way, for investing so much time and energy into Tony, for telling him how to have a personal relationship with Jesus. Thank you, John, thank you.

On March 23, 2010, around 6 p.m. EST, Tony Edge breathed his last breathe; he left his earthly body; he joined Jesus in heaven.

He entered into paradise.

Because of the cross, because of the resurrection of Christ, I grieve the loss of Tony with an undeniable Hope. I know where my Tony is. He's with Jesus.

Glory. Glory.

Jesus. He is risen.

In all my years of celebrating Easter, none have been so meaningful as these 3 since Tony's death. It's as if for the first time, I truly know the full weight of the sacrifice and love Jesus poured out for us...because the one I loved most on this earth has experienced paradise first-hand.

Paradise. It's not just a trendy word on the latest Coldplay album. It's heaven. It's a real place. It's my final destination.

And I pray, I believe God, that it's the final destination for countless others too.

Dearly loved, celebrating Easter,
Melissa

What I've learned 2 years later...

It's so hard to believe it's been 2 years since Tony departed this earth for heaven. Some days it feels like it was just 2 days ago that I was in his arms for the final time; other days it feels like it's been an eternity. Most days I shake my head in wonder at just how I've made it this long. Only God.

I started this post earlier this week. Tears were streaming down my face as I reflected on this hard milestone. Good thing, I've got one of the best things that's come out of these 2 years by my side - my very own tear-licker, Ralphy Edge. She just tilts her head to one side and loves me through those innocent puppy eyes. Melt my heart.

I've spent today mostly to myself, in quiet; I've thought a lot about Tony, even more about his legacy. His life continues to impact mine, for good, for very good. I would certainly not be the woman I am today without his influence; I am better for knowing him, even if that knowing was much shorter than what I had hoped and dreamed.

It's amazing the things tragedy has taught me. Sure, I'd give it all back for Tony, if I could. I find myself wishing I had learned these things long before Tony's passing, even before we were married.

Best I can do now is carry them forward into my future. Here's a few at the top...

• I've learned not to take myself so seriously. I had to learn this quickly when grief clouded my short-term memory. There were many days when I could not remember one moment to the next; I often mis-placed things. I found it much better to laugh than to cry. 
• I've learned to enjoy the little moments, the little things. I stopped by Godiva today (Tony's favorite), paid way to much for a single piece of chocolate, yet I savored every bite, all 2 of them. And I've taken plenty of "jumping" pictures - just for the sheer fun of it.
• I've learned that the best way to face unbearable pain is to put on my big girl pants and confront it head on. Avoiding it just prolongs the inevitable. And for me, the anticipation is almost always worse than the actual.
• I've learned that presence is often the best gift to offer in times of sorrow. The most comforting times over these 2 years have been spent sitting next to the people who love and care for me the most, and we said nothing at all. 
• I've learned that influence is gained through authenticity. People aren't looking for perfect Melissa, they are looking for someone who is broken and real, who doesn't have all the answers. Though, I'm still learning to quit making excuses for my shortfalls.
• I've learned to stop myself and ask "is this how I want to remember these days?" This is particularly helpful in the midst of a self-pity party. Tony asked me this very question about a month before he died. I was drowning him in a sea of complaints - sleeping on an air mattress, living out of one room in our newly purchased, fixer-upper, under-construction house, while we were without heat in 30 degree weather, and all our things were either in boxes scattered everywhere or covered in drywall dust. I'm not making that up. His question stuck with me.
• I have learned that wise counsel is not optional, it's essential. I'm so grateful that Tony had a wealth of wise folks surrounding him, something he worked hard to establish long before we met. I now call them my "board of directors," and I honestly don't know how I would make  complicated decisions without them.
• I've learned that in my distress, to let others help. I've learned to just be grateful, not to worry how or if I could repay them. Instead, I just look for opportunities pay it forward when I'm able.
• I've learned that Jesus really is enough. His love never fails, it never dies, it never leaves. Never. Sure, the unconditional love between a husband and a wife is like none other, it's amazing. Yet it still falls short, it's limited to this earth. Jesus, only Jesus, is forever. 
• I've learned my God is the Defender of widows. It is not a coincidence that there are so many mentions of widows in the Bible. He cares for my every need; I've just got to continue to Trust Him to control my circumstances, my future, my outcome.

And...I've still got a lot more to learn.

Dearly loved,
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

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