A Fragrant Offering

The night before I left for Uganda, I made a last-minute trip to Trader Joe's. I picked up a couple of my favorite lavender soaps and salt scrubs.

It cost me $15.
The return on my investment...priceless.

It was Sunday afternoon when we opened our supply bag in the Ugandan village of Kaihura, about a 4 hour, bumpy ride to the west of capital city Kampala. I was instantly greeted by that sweet, familiar scent of lavender.

I walked into a small school room, dimly lit by only it's windows. What is the size of a traditional classroom in the States holds up to 80 students here. This Sunday afternoon, it was filled with 40 of the most beautiful women I've ever met.

They were all widows, specially invited to gather together. Some were old, some younger than me. We spoke different languages. I spoke through a translator. We didn't really need to speak anything at all. Our faces told our stories, every line, every wrinkle, every smile, every scar.

Every tear.

I had prepared a few notes, written down a few verses of Scripture to share with them. But, God scripted my words. I began by telling them I was a widow too. Suddenly, the miles, the culture, anything that made us different, melted away. We connected in that moment.

It was bittersweet, yet beautiful.

I shared my story of losing my husband; I shared how our great God had walked with me in every season, a time for mourning, a time for healing, and a time for moving forward. I encouraged them that no matter what season we are in, our God is the Defender of Widows. He is FOR us.

Then I asked if anyone wanted to share their stories.

One by one, these precious women raised their hands. They stood to their feet, and they told me the most heart-breaking details of how they lost their husbands, how some had lost children, how they felt abandoned and forgotten by their very community. After the first few, I honestly didn't know if I could hear anymore. God prompted me to look each one in the eyes and just listen.

It was as if for the very first time, someone allowed them to share, someone gave them honor and a place to be heard. Someone gave them a voice.

I was taken back to 3 years of a prayer that would keep me up some nights: "God, I wanna be a voice for the widows."

Surreal.

I ended our time in prayer and in sharing my life verse, Ephesians 5:1-2, where we are called to be dearly loved children of God. I recited in their language, "You are dearly loved."

Then, we had jugs of water and basins brought in. Two incredible ladies from our team joined me; we kneeled down, lavender soap and salts in hand, and 3 by 3, we washed each widow's feet.

The aroma will forever remind me of this unforgettable moment.

As we finished, one of the widows stood up to thank us. She told us that she had always heard of the story in the Bible of Jesus washing His disciples feet, but she never thought anyone would do this for her. She said that we had made these verses in the Bible come alive.

Come alive.

I could not have asked or imagined that response; it was Jesus, only Jesus. I'm so humbled to have been a part, to have the Lord take a simple act of love and transform it into such a fragrant offering. To Him belongs all the glory.

I extend my sincerest thank you to our trip leader, Sherry Kovak, and 410 Bridge staff member, Amy Todd, who orchestrated the details to make this experience possible. I will be forever grateful.

More stories to come...

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn and Cotton Candy...

March 23, 2011, turned out to be a surprisingly good day.  Despite my anxious anticipation and my wish above all else to turn into a bear and hibernate until it was over, I walked through the day full of life and even bits of joy.

Ironic, I know.

Casey spent the day with me, and she brought along her almost 5 month old, Caitlyn. She's the youngest of 3 girls, all cute as a button.  Caitlyn was just what I needed; her smile lights up even the saddest of faces.  Casey was actually at the doctor's office this time last year getting her first pictures of this daughter in her womb when I called to share with her the news that Tony died.

Even more ironic.  Yet, so very hopeful for my heart.

Funny thing, Caitlyn is one of 7 babies born this year out of our wedding party.  Three of my bridesmaids and 4 of Tony's groomsmen have brought new life into the world since Tony left it. 

The irony of life and death all wrapped into a single year.  Hope.

Casey and I spent the day shopping.  Yes, shopping.  I admit that retail therapy can be my weakness.  But this day was more about just doing whatever it took to make it through "still standing," and it was quite enjoyable for myself and my dear friend who knows me better than anyone.

We returned to my place where she cooked dinner for a few of my sweet girlfriends who came over to hang with me that evening.  At the very hour that Tony actually fell from Stone Mountain last year, I was hosting a dinner party with my friends.

Ironic, yes.  Unexpected, yes. 

Yet, I chose not to feel guilty about it.  It in no way diminishes the love I have for Tony and the magnitude of loss I feel without him in my life.  I just know that he would rather me celebrate life, not focusing on his death, and certainly not reliving the way that he died.  As my counselor reminded me, I lived that nightmare once, I don't have to relive it.

We ended our evening with the debut of my very favorite invention...a cotton candy machine.  Yes, I did say, a cotton candy machine.  I asked for one this Christmas and half jokingly, my parents bought it for me.  I mean, what else do you give this grieving daughter who didn't even want any presents at all?

My face lit up as particles of cotton candy swirled around my dining room.  My friends just went along with the fun, trying the many concoctions of flavors I created.  It was fun.  It was perfect.

It was a celebration that I have survived this tragic year.  It is hope that I'm going to be okay.

And if Tony could smile down on me, I know that he would.  And his health-nut self would even try my cotton candy just to humor me.

Dearly loved, cotton candy fan,
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

A prisoner of Hope...

I spent Christmas on a cruise ship.  Now, that is one statement I never thought I'd make.  But now I can say I did.  And I can also say that I made it through my first Christmas without Tony.

We departed on December 23rd, the 9 month mark from Tony's passing.  As we left the port, I couldn't help but notice a ship at the dock with the name "Atlantic Hope" on its side.  The entire ship was bright orange, it could not be missed.  I wondered what it held inside, but that really did not matter, its name was enough for me...Atlantic Hope.

Peering out the window from my room on the ship, I began to ask God whether this time on the great open sea would bring just that...Hope on the Atlantic.

By dinner that evening, I started to question what in the world I was thinking when I said I wanted to go on a cruise for Christmas.  Certainly, I had not considered the herds of people who would be joining us on board, herds who spent most of their time grazing at the unlimited selection and quantity of food.  I mean, who really needs access to pizza and ice cream 24 hours a day?

But it was too late.  I was stuck.  And so was my wonderful mom, dad, and brother, who love me so much to follow me on my wish to "do something different" for Christmas.  We made the best of it.  We snickered at Daddy being called Santa.  He finally had to take his Santa hat off when parents started asking him to explain to their kids why Santa was on a cruise when he was supposed to be making toys at the North Pole!

We spent Christmas Eve in the Bahamas.  We ventured all through Atlantis until we finally made our way to the sliver of public beach access.  And they call that Paradise Island?  We got our white Christmas, though, complete with white sand and foam from crystal blue water.  God gave me a big belly laugh when I had mom pose for a picture, and she was almost toppled over by a wave.

By this point, I had all but forgotten it was Christmas Eve, until Michael and I strolled down the streets of Nassau with Christmas music blarring all around.  I was really missing Tony and really missing home.  That night we got all dressed up for dinner, took a nice family photo, then attempted to endure less than stellar evening shows on board.  I had enough by 10 p.m. and darted to the room.  I felt as if I was a prisoner on the ship.

It was then I opened my Bible to Zechariah 9:9-12, verses on the prophecy of Christ's coming:

"Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey... He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth. As for you, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit. Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. "

There it was, "prisoners of hope." 
 
I had always thought of being a prisoner as a bad thing, of being confined, of being at the mercy of another to set me free.  But a prisoner of hope, that doesn't sound all that bad.  And as I thought about it further, that is exactly what I was - a prisoner on this Atlantic Hope, from which I could not escape.
 
I spent Christmas Day laying out on the "serenity deck," a kid-free zone on the back of the ship.  My view on all sides was the Atlantic Ocean, nothing else.  I was surrounded by it.  And I was surrounded by Hope.
 

I could not escape it.
 
What a great place to be on a day when the Ultimate Hope entered the world.  And a prisoner of that Hope I will gladly be for the rest of my life.  For in that Hope, I find freedom, and joy, and life abundant, and all that I could ever need to persevere under the trials of this life.
 
I ended Christmas day witnessing a beautiful sunset.  I sat in awe as, yet again, I peered out my window.  It looked as if the sun was melting into the Atlantic, like the Light of this world becoming one with the ocean of Hope.
 
 

 
So, Hope for the Holidays, I have found it in the "life unexpected" moments.  I am so very grateful that it has carried me through these last 6 weeks.
 
Now I move forward to my new word, my new focus, for 2011, "Restore."
 
Dearly loved, with Hope,
Melissa

HOPE for the Holidays: Mary

My first name, Mary, comes from my grandmother, my dad's mom.  She passed away a couple of years before I was born.

I am proud to carry her name, hearing so much about her growing up.  If I could go back in time to meet any one person, it would be her.  She, too, was a Christ follower.

She, too, travelled a hard road.  I didn't know about the woes of her first marriage, prior to her marrying my grandfather, until after my own tragedy.  The circumstances were quite different from mine, yet the aftermath very similar.

Her life was turned upside down.

And yet, it became beautiful again.

And I am beginning to see hints of beauty in mine too.

Sure, I'm still knee-deep in my grief and I've still got a long way to go.  Yet, God is at work orchestrating and arranging amazing things in my life, as only He can do.

I leave you with my favorite verses of the Christmas story, the words of Mary in Luke 1:38:
 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.”

I, too, am the Lord's servant and am open to whatever He has in store for me.

Dearly loved,
Mary Melissa

Hope for the Holidays: A Day of Service

"Serving people always takes priority over selfish ambition."

Those are the words of Tony, written on his list of personal goals.  I was reminded of them yesterday as I reflected on our Day of Service in honor of his birthday.

I must admit that I actually made it the entire day without any tears.  I wondered if that was okay.  Shouldn't I be sad, shouldn't I be a mess, because I'm celebrating his birthday without him?

My mom comforted me with her words..."maybe because the day was such a reflection of Tony's spirit, it brought you joy and happiness instead of tears."

And a true reflection, the day certainly was.

About 40 of us gathered that morning at City of Refuge, despite the freezing temperatures.  Bruce, the Executive Director, painted an inspiring picture of the vision and mission of this organization Tony believed in- to provide life-changing services for the lost, the last and the least in Atlanta.  We went on a brief tour of the facility and then divided into groups to sort food and scrub a large section of concrete flooring.

Yes, that is what we did.  We sorted food donations into boxes.  These boxes are all some families have to eat for an entire month.  For some, it is their Christmas "feast."

The floor that was scrubbed will soon be stained and sealed.  Tuesday it will hold hundreds beds for homeless women and children in need of emergency shelter from the cold.

Sure, our work wasn't glamorous.  It certainly wasn't your typical birthday celebration.

But we practiced what Tony so strongly sought after in his own life.  We practiced prioritizing service over selfish ambition. 

And God met us there.  He even told us "hi."  As we finished up serving, snowflakes began to fall.  That is surely a rarity this time of year in Atlanta. 

Tony's birthday wish is now complete.  And I am truly grateful to the friends and family who gave of themselves to make it possible.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

HOPE for the Holidays: A Meek Offering

I'm thankful to have made it through Thanksgiving. Honestly that was all I could muster up to say I was thankful for that day. I sat across from an empty chair at our family dinner. No amount of my mom's delicious food could comfort the pain, though I did try.

It was a quiet day, a day of reflection. I was glad to spend it in my refuge at my parents. That home carries many happy memories of Thanksgivings past. So many dearly loved family members sat around that same dining room table. Now they feast at the Ultimate Table in heaven.

And for that I am thankful.

But it is hard to say thanks when I miss them so much.

The day after Thanksgiving, I headed to my second refuge, Casey's house in South Georgia. Being greeted at the door by her sweet girls, Chloe and Claire, quickly assured me I was in the best place to finish out the holiday weekend.

I even helped them usher in Christmas by giving them their presents early. I think I was more excited than they were about the book I gave them - a Charlie Brown Christmas Story. As I sat down to read it to them, I discovered that the story was really for me.

I grew up loving Charlie Brown. My brother even had a mural painted in his room as a child. I guess I had forgotten the story of his puny Christmas tree and his disdain for the commercialization of Christmas.

I could so be Charlie Brown this year.

And that puny tree is about all I have to offer in the way of Christmas cheer.

It is my meek offering.

I did at least buy a couple of ornaments toput on my parents Christmas tree. Both of them have the word 'hope' on them. I stuck them right in front in plain view. They carry a lot of meaning this holiday for sure.

They are like the ornament Charlie Brown puts on his tree in the story. Its so substantial compared to his humble tree that is causes it to bend completely over.

And my prayer is that my hopeful ornaments will do the same - cause me to bend my knees in prayer and thanksgiving to my heavenly Father - no matter how weak and puny my offering.

I'm glad the story ends with Charlie Brown finding the true meaning of Christmas with the help of his friends. I'm certainly grateful I have friends - both young and old - to keep me focused on Jesus too.

Before I left to Casey's to head home, Chloe came up to me with her hands on her face, looked at me with her big blue eyes, and exclaimed, "Melissa, I am so excited about Christmas."

And my Hope grew just a bit bigger.
 
Dearly Loved,
Melissa

HOPE for the holidays...One day at a time...

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." ~ Matthew 6:33-34

I was reminded of this insightful verse by my counselor last night.  It seems I have gotten myself into a frantic mess worrying about the holidays this past week. 

I mean, I didn't think my 30 year old body could handle this much stress.  It is a wonder I am still standing.  I am utterly exhausted, and it is still a week before Thanksgiving...

And after that comes Tony's birthday on December 12th.  And the 16th is the 2 year anniversary of my Pop's passing.  Then, there is Christmas, and New Year's and finally my birthday in January.

Can I please, please press fast forward on my life?  Or else, just crawl in a hole?

My family and I are going on a Carnival cruise for Christmas.  I've gotten a couple of jokes about getting stuck out in the middle of the ocean.  I think I would be okay with that.

I know, I know, there is no fast forward button, or hole, and not very much likelihood of getting stranded at sea.  So, I suppose I will take up that advice of my counselor and take this season one day at a time. 

Sometimes one hour at a time, sometimes one moment. 

My friend Casey reminded me today that more often that not, things turn out not as bad as I had anticipated.  And that if God gave me the grace to stand that day in front of hundreds at Tony's memorial, surely He will give me the grace to get to January and beyond.

I never thought I would make it through the first day after Tony died.  Here I stand almost 8 months later.  I give all the credit to God for that.

So that is all the HOPE I've got to share with you for this posting.  I'm sorry it's not more.  I'm sorry it is not a message wrapped up in a pretty bow.  Honestly, there may never be a bow tied around this story.

But my God is not in the business of making our lives nice and pretty.  His business is asking us to love and trust Him daily, moment by moment, and providing us with the ultimate gift of eternity, a present too great to be confined to even the most beautiful bow this life could ever tie.

Dearly loved, and still standing,
Melissa

Hope for the Holidays...Life Unexpected

I've decided to not visit the mall for shopping until after January 1st.  Now those who know me best realize what a major accomplishment that will be.  I mean, I love all things Ann Taylor Loft, and Aveda, and Macy's, and now that Great American Cookie Company has gluten-free cookies, oh, I am set.

Hmmm, we'll see if this lasts...as long as I don't get any coupons or special offers in the mail, I should be good.  Better put mom on presorting my mail.

I digress.  So, I've been thinking more about why this Scrooge wants to come out of me this Christmas season (really, pre-Christmas until after Thanksgiving).  Of course, the obvious reason is that it is the first one without my Tony.  But for me to blame my bitterness on him, now that would just be unfair - that is against his very being.  Bitter would be the farthest trait I would use to describe him, ever.

My "bah humbug" sentiments seem to be directed more toward the very things our society has embraced as "Christmas" or "holiday."  Christmas trees, and lights, and presents, and plastic Nativity scenes, and presents, and more presents, and Santa, and Rudolf, and more presents, and food, and busy calendars, and parties, and Christmas music (still haven't changed my thoughts on this one since my last blog).

None of those things are bad.  I used to love all those things.  They were a big part of celebrating this time of year, of remembering the birth of Jesus, of being with friends and family, of leading into a new year.

Then, my world, as I knew it, fell apart.

And "things" didn't much matter any more.

I am sure I am not alone in that.

I asked my mom the other day if we really had to put up a Christmas tree this year.  I never imagined that question coming out of my mouth.  Ever.

This is a Christmas that I never imagined. 

My Christmas meets life unexpected. 

What is so hard about this year is there are so many unknowns.  How will I feel?  How much will I miss Tony?  How will I push through while society is Christmas crazy?

Funny how the association of those two words "life + unexpected" conjure up negative thoughts. 

Yet, the very story, the very core of Christmas began out of life unexpected.  Sure, the birth of Jesus had been anticipated for years, yet no one expected the Savior of the World to be born in a stable.  Life unexpected.  And certainly Mary never grew up expecting to be a virgin with child.  Life unexpected.  And the world never expected that a tiny baby lying in a manger could become the One Hope for salvation and eternity.  Life unexpected.

Perhaps life unexpected is not so bad after all.  Perhaps life unexpected is God's perfect plan.

So I will not look toward the traditional things for my Christmas this year.  I will celebrate Christmas and Jesus in the unexpected.  I will seek Hope for the holidays with people and places out of the ordinary.  I will look for Hope in life unexpected.

It has already begun.  After launching my hope blog last week, I received messages from folks I didn't even know read my blog who were also seeking that same Hope. People unexpected. 

My prayer is that I will look toward places unexpected for Hope as well.

Perhaps those of you seeking Hope will do the same.  May God meet you in the unexpected.

Dearly loved, and hoping for the unexpected,
Melissa

HOPE for the Holidays...

Is it just me, or has anyone else felt as if they were caught up in the middle of Cinderella's Ball this week?  It's as if the clock struck midnight on Halloween and all of the sudden every pumpkin turned into Christmas decor.  Really?

By Monday evening of November 1st, I was scratching my head as I drove home past the courthouse in Braselton lit up with garland and lights.  And, not to blast my Facebook friends, but I read post after post of folks busting out Christmas music, trading in pumpkin spice lattes for peppermint ones, and entering the fury of buying presents.

I say it again...really?

I mean, I'm still munching on way too much Halloween candy that I snagged off my cute little neice and nephew (their payment for me dressing up like a ridiculous queen to trick or treat with them).

Now, I must temper my thoughts with my state of mind and spirit as I enter these festive days that I used to get all excited for (but honestly never this early - I love turkey and dressing too much!).  Never before could I relate to Scrooge in "A Christmas Carol," but this year I sure could.

I guess that is why my grief group, my counselor and countless books on loss warn those grieving to enter the holiday season with extreme caution.  Now, I could turn into Scrooge and everyone would attempt to understand.  I might not be much fun for the next 2 months, but certainly no one would stop me from being a sad mess.

But I do have a choice in the matter.  To be Scrooge or not to be Scrooge?  That is my question.

No, I probably won't be busting out my Christmas decor.  And, I won't listen to much Christmas music, which isn't different from years past (yes, I love Jesus, just not Christmas music).  I'll turn down my fair share of holiday parties.  I don't plan to visit the mall or buy many presents (sorry, friends and family, unless you're under the age of 6).

A wave of sadness hit me on Monday as I realized that November was really here and the holidays were encroaching faster that I wanted.  It was then that one of my favorite words came to mind, hope.  How could I find hope for the holidays?  How could I give hope for the holidays?  How could I BE hope for the holidays?

I figure I'm not the only one who needs hope this season.  Countless others are facing their first holidays without a dear loved one, due to death, divorce or some other cause.  Several more are facing their first without a job, without health, without a home, without money, without friends, the list goes on and on.

So, Hope.

Yes, Hope.

Hope is what I'll focus on.  Stay tuned for special postings labeled "HOPE for the Holidays" mixed in with my weekly blogs.  Please pass them along as you feel led to share with anyone who needs some hope.

Dear Lord, this is my prayer.  Keep me from being Scrooge this year.  Keep my eyes on You, my Hope, my Love.  And please God, bring Hope to the hurting this holiday season.  Please give us the miracle of Hope.  Amen.

Dearly loved, and hoping,
Melissa

My mission field

Tony was my mission field. That was one of the first things I learned in our pre-marital counseling. Our counselor told us that we were to be each other's mission field, to view each other through the lense of a servant's heart, and that as we did that, our spouse's faults and mistakes would always be covered in love.

I miss my mission field. I feel so lost without it. I loved serving Tony. No, I was not a perfect wife by any stretch, but I can look back and see in our marriage that my thoughts about Tony's best interests and needs were always weaved into my day. The way I served him was only a fraction of the love and servanthood he poured out so extravagantly on me.

I could have been so happy fulfilling my mission as Tony's wife for the rest of my life. That was my "Plan A."

Life did not pan out the way I thought it would, so I'm left to determine "Plan B."

I sat in church last week in tears once again. The message was about lifting others up and asking God to give us eyes to see needs around us. I am fully on board with that, so I asked God to just give me a glimpse of what my Plan B mission might look like.

Later that week, He began to birth a new vision, a new mission, in my heart. Though I have a very limited view, I can see it is God-sized and one to rise up over time from the ashes of my Plan A.

For now it is just that, nothing concrete, and nothing to share specifically. Those of you who continue to pray for me, please pray that God unveils this Plan B in His timing, in His way, and that it would be completely of Him and nothing of me.

I just want to live my life "on mission"...whatever that mission may be.

Dearly loved, in Plan A and Plan B,
Melissa

A rainbow in a rainstorm

I drove through a horrible rainstorm last night. My final 20 miles to home were met with deep blue rain clouds that gave the phrase "the bottom fell out" a whole new meaning.

Just when I thought the rain could not come any stronger, it did. Incessant drops pounded and pounded, harder and harder. I could barely look anywhere but straight ahead for trying to make out the blurring brake lights in front of me. That was until the dreaded stand still traffic ensued on the interstate. As I came to a hault, and I started to grumble, I looked up and there it was.

A rainbow.

Yes, a rainbow. Not a rainbow after a storm, like God gave to Noah. Instead, it was a rainbow in a storm.

Though faint in color and only half could be seen, it was enough to be a rainbow just for me.

My current life feels like a rainstorm, one I never saw coming, a thief in the night. The rain pours down harder and harder, pounding my worn-down body, pounding my battered spirit, pounding my aching heart.

And yet, there in the midst of my rain clouds is a rainbow, my ray of hope from the Lord. It is a promise that though this world unleashes unrelenting rain, my God holds eternal sunshine in the life yet to come. And that life yet to come is void of pain, and of tears, and of loss.

It says in Revelation 21:4 that in heaven, "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

I cling to these verses as my umbrella of hope.

Traffic picked up after a few minutes, but I kept trying to keep one eye on the rainbow as I drove (a little less dangerous than texting while driving, right?). It faded away as I encountered even darker storm clouds and more heavy rain.

Though I could no longer see it, I knew that rainbow and that promise was still there behind the storm, waiting to see me through on the other side.

Dearly loved, in the rain,

Melissa

Gonna Be Alright...

Songs seem to be inspirations for my last couple of blogs. I introduced my niece Haley to these words in the song "Salvation is Here." I even got her to do an arm punch as we sang, "It's gonna be alright." My North Point pals would understand that significance. I think we must have listened to the song on repeat for over an hour.

I need those words especially today. I've read in several grief books that I will experience waves of emotions. Today, it was wave after wave, each one different. A wave of sadness, a wave of joyful reflection, a wave of anger (cell phone companies, urr!), and back to sadness again. I tell myself, it's gonna be alright, and I picture my sweet niece giggling and smiling.

Oh to be six years old and so excited about the simplicities of life...dressing up fancy and eating steak for dinner, making her aunt dress up in a red sparkle dress, complete with a hot pink bow and red polish on fingers and nails (yes, fingers too!), and going to see the Cabbage Patch land and coming home with a stuffed animal cat instead. On the way home after our little excursion, Haley told me she was gonna lose her voice from telling her mom all about our time together.

She sees the best in life and in her own way she reminds me that it is gonna be alright. Most days it is hard to believe that. Right now, it's even hard to type those words, tears streaming down my face.

God, on days I struggle to see it, please remind me that it's gonna be alright.

Dearly loved,
Melissa