For Uganda

This coming Thursday, I board a plane to fulfill a prayer 3 years in the making. 

I am so excited. Uganda, here I come. 

It was a defining moment for me in August of 2010 where this prayer began. The "bubble wrapped fog" of the early stages of my grief was beginning to wear off; darkness so painful I could not imagine was setting in. I was overwhelmed by the thought that I had nothing in this life to look forward to. I lifted my eyes up to the Lord in the middle of a sermon by Louie Giglio and boldly asked Him to give me a glimpse of something yet to come in my life. Something, anything, to point me toward purpose and light out of this dark pit of despair.

Just days later, I was directed to an article in USA Today regarding the "Plight of the Widow" internationally. A seed was planted; I knew I was to leverage my story, my resources, my Hope in Jesus as an advocate and a voice for widows and women.

God continues to affirm and expand that vision; it's now time to take the first step: to go and see. And Uganda is at the top of this list.

So I'm heading out with a team of 9 from North Point Ministries and 410 Bridge from September 12-22. The most important thing that I'm carrying with me are my two open hands.

I don't know all that God will do through this trip, but I know what He is able to do...and it's immeasurably more that I could ask or imagine. My prayer for these days is that my posture remains open-handed.

I do know that our team will be working alongside the leader in the Ugandan village of Kaihura to introduce the community to 410 Bridge. This is a brand new partnership, and we are deeply honored to be one of the first teams to go. Folks we will get to meet while we are there include widows, business leaders, teenagers and orphans. I am already convinced they are the most beautiful people; I can't wait to meet each and every one.

Did I mention...I'm so excited!

Those who know me well know that this trip is a big step for me in a multitude of ways. I ask you to pray and to pray BIG for our team, for Kaihura, and for me. I am believing our Great God to take care of every single detail. I am trusting that any work, any words, anything that happens through me, is a direct overflow of the work God is doing in my heart.

I'm boldly claiming Phillipians 1:6:

"being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you [in me too!] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

Dearly loved, for Uganda,

Melissa

Dear Mom & Dad...An Open Letter

Today is my parents' 41st wedding anniversary. I am so incredibly grateful. As a thank you to them for the incredible blessing and legacy they give my brother and I each year when August 5th rolls around, I thought I'd write them an open letter.

Dear Mom and Dad,

This past Sunday at church I stood in front of hundreds of kids and told them with bold confidence that they could trust God no matter what, that I can trust God no matter what. I believe that because you first modeled it for me.

I look at my life now and how my relationship with Jesus has influenced everything, literally every single thing. I can thank you for that too.

Your faith has left my life forever changed.

Sure, I've thanked you over the years for walking alongside me through the big events of life...attending hours of dance recitals, looking on proudly as your little over-achiever walked across graduation stages and earned every award imaginable, moving me 9 hours from home for my first big girl job, and rejoicing with a heart full of love for Tony and I on our wedding day. These are just a few.

You never left my side the day that life, as we knew it, shattered within a matter of hours. You grieved the loss of your son-in-law in silence, behind closed doors, so you could put on a brave face for me. I was asked recently how I made it through that first year. It was Jesus. But it was His strength flowing through you to help pull me through.

I've done a lot of reflection over the past year, as the intense season of my grief has passed. It's like I'm rediscovering myself, or maybe actually understanding myself for the first time.

I'm finding myself revisiting my early years. And that's where I landed on my greatest discovery, my greatest experience as a child that has literally carried me into my present. Sure, those formative years were seasoned with hardship, lots of moving around, and lots of unpleasant places in South Georgia. Yet, had life been easy, I would not have learned the Truth I mentioned above. I still remember the day when you both decided to go into ministry, and I remember that no matter where that journey took us as a family, for better or worse, your faith in Jesus never wavered. You trusted God. Period. No strings attached.

I'm not sure there's a greater lesson you could have lived out for your children. And there aren't adequate words to express my gratitude.

Thank you for loving and caring for Michael and I so well, past, present and future. Thank you for remaining faithful to each other in the good times and bad. Thank you for keeping your eyes on Jesus, for allowing Him to use you to influence your children. Thank you for your legacy.

I wish you the happiest of wedding anniversaries...and many more to come.

Dearly loved, with a heart full of love and gratitude,
Melissa

3 Years Later...A Prayer From the Journey

Three years today. I never dreamed I would have made it this far on a journey of so much heartache and pain. My prayer below depicts the honest cries of my heart along this hard road. This was shared last fall as part of a sermon by my incredible boss and pastor, Billy. You can watch the entire message here.

"I can do all THIS through Christ who gives me strength." ~ Phil. 4:13

God,

Here I kneel beside my bed again, a place so empty without my Tony. I miss him. I miss us.

Tonight, my heart aches so much it physically hurts. I’ve never felt such heaviness in my soul. I’m desperate for you to relieve it, even just a little. Can you just sit with me a while and lift the pain?

The ironic thing is that day after day well-meaning folks keep telling me I’m so strong. I feel like a big imposter because the reality is I am not. I’m weak, Lord. I’m so weak. I’ve got nothing left, I’m barely hanging on.

So I beg you, Lord, please be my strength.

These same folks keep asking me what I’m going to do now, in the aftermath of my tragedy. My honest answer is “I don’t know.” My life is in shambles; my dreams are shattered. I’m still reeling from the question, “How could the entire trajectory of my life change in a matter of seconds?”

I can’t even think past these next few minutes, Lord, much less the days ahead. I’m overwhelmed by my circumstances. I’m so scared. I don’t want to face this tough road alone. I need you.

I need you to meet me in my fear. I need you to meet me just where I am. Though I don't see the end of this journey or what is on the "other side" of my pain, I know you do. Give me courage. Be my courage.

And in this moment, as I fear another sleepless night, give me courage to just crawl into bed. Should I awake sobbing, be there to hold my hand, be as close as my next breath.

And for tomorrow, give me the grace to rise out of bed, put one foot in front of the other and just walk. Help me trust you to handle the rest. Help me to trust you to handle even the tiniest details of my day.

Thank you for being big enough to know my every need before I even ask. But thank you even more that you speak to me in the quietest, smallest whispers of your voice…”I am with you. I am for you. You are dearly loved, Melissa.”

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Dearly loved,

Melissa

Eyes Wide Open

About a year ago, I made the decision that I was going to go back to wearing contacts. It's been over a decade since I've started wearing glasses consistently. I remember that fateful day in the ophthamologist's office when he looked me square in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but contacts are no longer for you." Turns out that my eyes didn't produce enough tears to keep my lenses clean in my eyes. I could say the last 2 years' circumstances have fixed that lil' problem, eh?

Actually medical advancements have helped my cause; there's finally contacts moist enough to not make me wanna rip my eyeballs out after 30 minutes of wear. So, I purchased a year's supply determined that glasses were my "so last decade" look.

I popped those contacts in and it's as if my eyes grew two inches. I could see on all sides; it was a clear view. I've worn glasses for so long that I don't know what it's like to have a peripheral view. My eyes were wide open.

Wide open.

I was nervous to sport my "new look" around a lot of folks. I finally worked up the courage to wear them to the office; it was a test to see if my face without glasses would make a good impression. The first comment I received was "hmm, you look different."

Different? Okay, at least it wasn't "ugly" but it might as well have been. That's the last day I wore my contacts to work!

Perhaps I'm being a little dramatic. (Though I'm pretty sure I speak for most women in saying we don't like to be told we look different.) But this very story relates so much to what I've been wrestling with over the time since my last blog post.

About once a week lately, I've had what I call an "ugly" day. These are days when I wake up with what feels like the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm tired of my current life circumstances, I'm sad, I can't see my future so I might as well picture it as bleak.  I'm not my typical fun-loving self. It's my very own pity party. It's a day when I wake up, put on dirty glasses and view the world through them. All I can see is the grit, all I can see is ugly.

Ugly.

I was asked by a friend on one of these aforementioned days just what exactly gets me through the day. What changes my view? I thought for a minute, then spouted things out like chocolate, retail therapy, a text to a friend, a nap, cuddle time with Ralphy. Certainly those things perk me up, even for just a bit. Then, I realized what was coming out of my mouth was nothing that was sustaining, nothing that could transform that ugly view and wipe those lenses clean.

What I need instead is the One who can remove those glasses all together. I need my Healer who can allow my eyes to be wide open, with nothing in the way. I need my God to break the chains of my distorted, limited view.

My favorite song over the last couple months has been NeedtoBreathe's "Keep Your Eyes Open." I love these lyrics:

Just past the circumstance, the first light a second chance
No child could ever dance the way you do oh
Tear down the prison walls, don't stop the curtain calls
Your chains will never fall until you do

'Cus if you never leave home, never let go
You'll never make it to the great unknown
Till you keep your eyes... open my love

I've become quite accustomed to my glasses; I feel quite "at home" in them. Some days they are dirtier, uglier than others. Some days I can use my shirt and get them fairly clean. But it only takes a few tear drops to make them smudged and dirty again.

Ugly days.

God continues to call me to renew my mind, to surrender my "chains," to open wide my eyes to the "great unknown" He has for me. Sure, I don't know what that unknown will look like, but I can rest in knowing it is certainly not "ugly."

And in the meantime, perhaps I will just bust out those contacts again. Just please don't tell me I look "different!"

Dearly loved,
Melissa

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

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

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

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

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

Prizes...and a bag of marbles...

I just put up my vacuum cleaner after stepping over it for several days, right smack in the middle of my bedroom. You're probably thinking, "well, whoopee do, Melissa, glad you can clean up after yourself" (which actually would have been a major feat this time a year ago).

I was slow to put it up because it now holds the shattered pieces of the most prized possession Tony ever gave me.

Last Friday was a heavier than anticipated day as it marked the 1.5 year mark. Other milestones had come and gone with little effect, so this one took me by surprise. I finally pulled myself together, even decided I'd "look cute" for the day to perk myself up. I reached into my beautiful jewelry case (another prized gift from my Tony) to get out a necklace, shut the door, and crash.

My jar of marbles fell from the top. My jar of marbles Tony gave me as an engagement gift. My jar of marbles spoken of at Tony's memorial service. Shattered. Marbles everywhere.

I just stared at the glassy mess. I pressed my back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. I didn't know how or what to feel.

What was I supposed to do now? Tony had clearly given me instructions that we were to throw one marble away every year on our anniversary.  I had faithfully done that for the past two years without him.  Was I just supposed to put the marbles in another jar? But it's not THE jar. Who knows if I'll even live long enough to completely empty the jar anyway. What do I do with the marbles?  Tears began to flow.

I finally got up, walked to the kitchen, and pulled out a ziploc bag. I got on my hands and knees and put the marbles in the bag, being sure every one was accounted for, all 74. I looked down at my hands at one point and noticed they were cut in a couple places and bleeding from the glass. How fitting.  Then, I put on my big girl pants and I swept and vacuumed up the pieces of that jar, keeping just two larger jagged pieces.

My jar was gone; my marbles now intact in a ziploc bag.  And after walking past them, stepping over my vacuum for several days now, several days filled with heartache for another dear friend in the midst of tragedy, I'm finally getting some clarity on what I am to do.

I am to let them go.
I am to let my marbles go.

As I wrote in my last post, I'm memorizing Phillipians 3. These are actually the very verses I awoke to on the one year anniversary of Tony's passing...Phil. 3:12-14 ~
^"12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³ Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

At first reading several months back, I wondered why on earth would God bring me verses about "forgetting."  But as I studied those often-quoted verses, I learned that Paul wasn't saying that he was not remembering the past or permanently deleting the past from his memory, but instead he was encouraging believers to leave what was in the past behind them, to not let it hinder what God has placed ahead of them.

So "forgetting" what is behind me in this season means beginning to let go.  For as I let go, I am able to "strain" toward my goal, to press on to take hold of my ultimate prize, my Jesus.

And it's quotes like these from Tony (this one written to his best friend over a decade ago) that give me peace that I'm continuing to honor his legacy as I press on.  He writes:

"I am understanding more and more about what Paul meant when he said he was seeking the prize in the race of life.  I get so tired in this race, and the only thing that keeps me going is the hope of the future “prize” and my friends."

So I press on. I hope. I get tired. I keep going. I lean on my family. I'm there for my friends, in good times and in bad.  I allow God to use my story, allow God to use me, all of me.

I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with that bag of marbles just yet, but I am confident that one by one, I will honor my precious time with my husband, as I let each marble go.

Dearly loved, letting go, straining forward,

Melissa

Solitary Courage

^"The following night the Lord stood near Paul and said, “Take courage! As you have testified about me in Jerusalem, so you must also testify in Rome." ~Acts 27:11

These past few weeks, I've been camping out on the verse above, two words in particular:
Take courage.

I just love how the Lord came so close to Paul and uttered this simple, yet powerful phrase.  Paul was in chains amidst a plot to take his very life.  He was completely by himself.

And, I can only imagine, he was utterly terrified.

Jesus came near him and told him to take courage.

Take courage.

That's what I long for these days.  That is my earnest request of the Lord.

You see, I've reached the part of my grief, my pathway through pain, that I must face on my own.  No amount of family, friends, distractions, work, or play, can walk this journey for me, or even with me.  I must face my pain, I must face this reality of life not being as it should, I must face this "new normal" that's anything but normal, by myself.

It is a solitary road.

And I feel as if I am struggling to keep one foot in front of the other; I'm in survival mode.  I'm learning to face life on my own again.  Sure, I did this one time before when I graduated college, but that was after I had 22 years of preparation.  This time I was given no warning; I'm scared to death at times when I really dwell on that fact.  Sometimes I melt down, wishing I could somehow twitch my nose and be right back in my old life again.

I miss it, and I miss my Tony.

I feel as if I take a step forward on this road and then two in reverse.  I'm back to facing life one day at a time.  I'm back to praying every morning and telling God that if He gives me the strength, if He just gives me the courage to get out of bed, I'm gonna trust Him to lead me through the rest of the day.  That's all I've got to offer.  It's certainly nothing to boast about.

Yet, my Jesus draws near. 

He meets me in my fear, he meets me stumbling along this road, he meets me just where I am.  And, He brings me courage for the taking.  Because though I don't see the end of the road, I don't see what's on the "other side" of my pain, He does.  He knows how scared I am, and yet He knows I'm gonna be okay.  He gives me courage.  He is my courage.

Dearly loved,
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

Reason for hope...

So I went back to my college reunion this past weekend, Brenau's annual May Day.  I planned this event for the last 4 years; I had planned part of this year's event before I left my position as alumni director a few months ago.

Still, it was hard to go back.

Sure, I was glad to see my former colleagues, and the students and alumni I had built relationships with over the years, and it was the 100th anniversary of my sorority's founding.  I was happy to able to celebrate such a milestone for an organization that gave me some of my greatest friends for life.

Casey, who was my roommate at Brenau for 3 years, came up to go with me; and she brought her adorable girls.  Her oldest Chloe is now 4 and is starting to spell words.

I'm a big "words" person, so I have pictures of words all over my condo.  Chloe went around asking what each one spelled.  She locked in on my many versions of "hope" spread throughout my place.

"Why do you have hope everywhere, Melissa?" she asked as she slowly spelled out the word.

"So that I can remember that I always need hope, Chloe.  And hope comes from Jesus," I explained.

And hope is what I carried with me throughout that day at Brenau.  Oh, and I carried that sweet little Chloe and her 2 little sisters quite often too.

As a college student ten years ago, I never pictured my life would have taken the turn it did.  I never imagined facing all of my sorority sisters with families of their own when I was literally picking up the pieces of my shattered life to start completely over.

Hope.  That's what I've got instead.

I was asked a few weeks ago by a new friend at Buckhead just why I was able to be so joyful and happy as often as I am. 

And the honest answer is just Jesus.  There really is no other way to explain it.

In that moment, I was reminded of these verses in 1 Peter 3:15...
^"But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have..."

Dearly loved, with a reason to hope,
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

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

Still standing...

I'm sitting here next to my best friend Casey who has been such a rock for me this past year.  I am so very grateful.  It's about an hour before the clock strikes midnight and that day I've dreaded for an entire year is upon me.  It seems so surreal.

I had hoped to have something profound to blog.  Honestly, as I have written before, I've got nothin'.  I'm spent.  My mind is in a million places and none of them make sense.  My heart is so heavy. 

But one thing I have learned first hand this past year is that when I come to the end of myself, God shows up in ways I could never ask or imagine.

He brought me to these verses, which I've been camping out in this week, Psalm 18:1-6:

I love you, LORD, my strength.
 The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
   my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
   my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
 I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise,
   and I have been saved from my enemies;
 The cords of death entangled me;
  the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
   the snares of death confronted me.
 In my distress I called to the LORD;
   I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
   my cry came before him, into his ears.

Folks keep asking what I'm going to do on this one year anniversary.  Here's my best answer...

I will recognize the day as a horribe nightmare I lived through, a day I will never forget. I will remember the almost unbearable pain over the immeasurable, irreplaceable loss of the love of my life, my Tony.

And yet, I will raise my arms to heaven and proclaim loudly to my God...

I'm still standing.

I'm still standing.  And it is all because of You, Jesus.

You, Jesus.

I've gotten so many comments, so many questions this year about how and why I could turn to God given my tragic circumstances.

My question back is how could I not?

Psalm 18:30-33 continues:

As for God, his way is perfect:
   The LORD’s word is flawless;
   he shields all who take refuge in him.
For who is God besides the LORD?
   And who is the Rock except our God?
It is God who arms me with strength
   and keeps my way secure.
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
   he causes me to stand on the heights. 

Dearly loved, still standing,
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