Red letters...

One of the best decisions I have made in my grief journey is to read the Bible cover to cover.  I finally made it through the Old Testament a few weeks ago, and I felt rather accomplished.  The next page in my Bible was completely blank.  The Word of God was silent.  For us, only for a page.  But for those who lived during that time, that one blank page represented over 400 years of silence from God. 400 years of prayers unanswered, promises unfulfilled, hope deferred.

And then I turn over a page into Matthew and just a chapter in, there they are in all their splendor...

Red letters.
Those red words in the Bible - the very words of God spoken on earth.

It is God speaking to ordinary man - not just to his chosen few. Jesus is speaking to all of us. Those words are for all of us. It is His promise fulfilled, our ultimate answer to prayer, our hope unfailing.

How very often I take for granted having his very words, his very instructions, his life lessons right at my finger tips. 

I awoke this morning quite gripped by fear over some upcoming decisions that need to be made.  So I opened my Bible to finish up reading the Gospels, and I came across some of my favorite words of Jesus in John 15:5, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

And my fear began to fade away as I wrapped myself in the comfort of the Scriptures.

I must say that I am more in love with Jesus than ever before.

Dearly loved, and loving His Word,
Melissa

Storage...

I made a point on my fall break to switch out my summer clothes for my fall wardrobe.  This used to entail a simple switch of closets in our home.  Now that I am at my parents, it means a trip to the storage unit 20 miles away.

I packed up my summer yellows and pinks, and all things cotton and colorful.  I parted with my oh so favorite yellow shoes that gave me an extra skip through this trying summer.

I traded them in for a much darker attire, lots of brown, and black, and my new favorite color of the season, gray.  All things warm, and cozy, and lots of layers, that's my style.  Now I will admit I have way too many boots, but that makes this ease into cooler weather and the shorter days a little bit more bearable.

But this season's wardrobe is heavy....just like my heart.  Opening up that door to my storage unit was a wave of emotion.  I was immediately met with the smell of our home...and countless things of Tony's.  One box in particular had his handwriting on it, "Christmas items and wrapping."

It was like he was just there.

It was like he too was preparing for a new season.

But he's not.  Only his stuff remains.

Stuff he never held too closely.

He was never much on keeping many things around.  He did keep one box of sentimental items and notes, but that is a drop in the bucket to what I have kept over the years.

He chose to capture his memories in pictures, in journals, and mostly in moments.

And that is exactly what I hope to hold onto in my longterm storage in my heart and mind.

Sure, I'll treasure his things.  I wore his UGA shirt for the first game this season.  I look forward to curling up with one of the many books in his collection, complete with his side notes and underlining.  His pillow is still next to mine on my bed every night.

But all of that pails in comparison to who he was, to what he stood for, to his relationships and the impact he made on this earth.

As it says in Matthew 6:19-20, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

One day I'll clean out that storage unit.  And as I prepare to do so, I pray the Lord will guide me in letting loose of my own things in this world that don't really matter.  May the storage unit in my heart be purged so that I have more capacity for the treasures in the life yet to come.

Dearly loved, in my boots,
Melissa

The goal line

I've thought a lot about goal lines this week.  My Dawgs finally pulled out an SEC win last Saturday, crossing that goal line over and over again.  And Bobby Cox reached that goal line of retirement after a stellar, history-making career in baseball.

And who can help but have an image etched in their minds of that capsule bringing up miner after miner in Chile today - goal line crossed, mission completed, brave men.

Even more outstanding is my experience of watching goal line after goal line come to fruition this past Sunday at 12Stone.  The church had open baptism at the end of the service where anyone who desired to accept Christ could publicly profess Him on the spot and be baptized.  The pastor prayed, and the people started filing into two lines on each side of the stage.  Person after person, life after life, salvation sprung forth for hundreds that day.  Their goal line to Jesus was reached.

I watched in awe, teary-eyed, as I was reminded of this saying I heard several years ago from Louie Giglio:
"Christianity is not about getting there first, it is about holding out hope for the person who gets there last."

That "there" is the Kingdom of God.  As much as I'm ready to go to heaven whenever God calls me, and as much as I know that this world is not my home, God whispered to me through those baptisms that there are so many more lives to hold out hope for.  There is still more room in the Kingdom...

Matthew 22: 1-3, 8-10: "Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: 'The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come'...Then he said to his servants, 'The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests."

The invitation to the banquet is still open.  So we pray, we invest, we love, we build relationships, we keep trusting God for those in our circles of influence, those we are yet to meet, those we may never meet on this earth, that they would taste and see that the Lord is good and that they would accept Him as their Savior...

even if they come in last.

It is then that we can boldly proclaim the words of Paul in 2 Timothy 4:7-8, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."

Dearly loved, and holding out Hope,
Melissa

My "big girl" pants

One lesson I have had confirmed this past year is that loss is a part of life. A year ago this week my heart was deeply saddened when my dear friend Tammy's mom left this earth, heavenbound. A few days later I celebrated what was to be the last birthday of another sweet friend; Debbie went home to Glory in January.

Add my tragedy and 3 is company. Yet loss continues to strike my friends, random folks in the news, someone somewhere nearly every day.

And that was no different in Biblical times. Just read Genesis and you will see story after story of death and loss. Even Jesus was not immune, weeping over His friend Lazarus. I love that God included this in the Bible because it justifies our own pain and tears in our grief.

Still our society - and sad to say even many in the church - prefer to sweep grief under the rug, to not deal with it, to not entertain it too long for fear it will happen to them.

And those of us who death has struck like a thief in the night are left with a choice. Do we run the way of society? Or do we put on our big girl and big boy pants and confront our loss head on?

Yes, we all own a pair of these pants. So just humor me and imagine me saying that phrase in my most Southern charm. My friends who know me well have heard it time and time again.

I have to put mine on when I face situations or circumstances where I would rather just tuck my tail between my legs and hide. So a couple of days after I lost my love I made a choice to put on my big girl pants and deal with it. I told myself and God that I was 30 years old and I could not let Tony's death, no matter the unrelenting pain, destroy my life. For if I were to live the average life span I was only a third of the way through.

And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Tony would want me to make that same decision too.

And so these big girl pants have helped me through 6 months of a very hard, long journey, and I know that is just the beginning.  Just last week I was so proud of myself for spending my first night alone after Tony's accident.  It seems like such a small step, but to me it was a giant leap.

I take no credit for my ability to deal with hard things. It is my God who enables me to put my big girl pants on. He prompts me, He sends wise counsel to nudge me, and in times when I just can't put them on, He gives me comfort and assurance that I can trust Him.

So for those of you facing hard roads, facing tough decisions, I in no way mean to diminish your feelings or circumstances. Yet, I do have one bit of encouragement...

Put on your big girl (or boy) pants and deal with it. You will become all the stronger when you do.

Dearly loved, sporting my big girl pants,

Melissa

Fix You...

"I just wish I could fix it"...a phrase I've heard come out of the mouths of those I hold closest to my heart.  My dad, my mom, Casey are just a few who have uttered those desperate words, grasping for something, anything to release me from these heartwrenching circumstances.  And I know they would do all in their power to fix my pain, to fix my shattered dreams, to fix me.

And yet, they remain powerless.
They cannot fix me.
But, I am grateful beyond words that they love me so much that they would try.

I was reminded of that this evening as I watched a dance to Coldplay's "Fix You" at the SYTYCD live show.  This one piece choreographed by a son wanting to fix his mother's illness has touched me deeply.  Sure, it makes me think of Tony and my desire to see him whole again on this earth.  I would give my own life for that. 

But even more, I could see my loved ones' deep desire to fix me.  Day by day, moment by moment, they see my hard road, they see my struggles, and they want to take my burden away.

And I picture their own toil, their own anguish, their own tears, as the reality of my situation tells them otherwise.

The song's chorus repeats, "Lights will guide you home...and I will try to fix you."

After the show, my mom and I drove mostly in silence, I was enamored by the beautiful harvest moon guiding our way home.  What a fitting picture of the light of the Lord shining down His healing touch, all the while one of my greatest supporters sits as the passenger next to me.  On any given day, I can interchange my dad, my brother, my best and closest friends, into that seat too.

I pray God continues to remind them... "Do not fear, do not worry, I see your heart's desire. I will fix her in My time.  All you need to do is stay the course by her side."

It says in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."

Lord Jesus, comfort those who comfort me.  Stay close to their side as you remain close to mine.  And, please God, fix me.  Fix me as only You know how. Amen

Dearly loved,
Melissa

Final words

It is hard to believe that this week marks 6 months since my love departed from this world.

I often replay his final days in my mind, trying to remember what he was up to, imagining what he was feeling.  The last time I saw him was 2 days before the accident, on a Sunday.  We had spent the day before making final preparations for the top portion of our home to be rented.  Of course, Tony needed to be studying for his Executive MBA program that entire day, but he chose to help me finish the daunting task instead.  

All was going according to plan, until I heard a loud rush of water coming from the basement...the washer overflowed.  I was so frustrated; Tony took it in stride, just like he normally did.  We left it alone for the evening; Tony went on to study for a couple of hours before he came into the living room to ask me to dance.  Dance?  Yes, dance. My romantic husband again chose me over all other responsibilities, and as we twirled around our tiny living room,  I remember wishing that this moment would last forever. 

We spent our last day together with a trip to Lowe's for more home supplies, then on to worship at church.  I still picture Tony standing with his arms held high in worship, swaying back and forth, which I loved.  I left that afternoon with my friend Karen for a trip to Savannah & St. Simon's, where I had a couple of events for work.  As I told him good-bye, Tony grabbed me into his arms; looking back, I could have stayed there a lifetime.

The next 2 days were a blur for both of us.  I do recall that he spent most of it cleaning up the water in the basement and finishing up a couple more "to do" items for the house.  He took care of everything, so that I did not have to worry.  All the while, his recent promotion at work had landed him in a position to implement some unpopular decisions among the very people his heart's desire was to serve day after day.  That Tuesday afternoon, he chose to find solace in enjoying one of the first beautiful spring days of the year at the highest natural place he could get to in Atlanta.  And there, he finally started to study.

Sure, I can spend the rest of my life regretting that my Tony spent his final day on this earth taking care of house chores to make my life easier.  It certainly wasn't a glamorous day. 

Or, I can rejoice that he spent his final hours on this earth doing what Jesus calls us all to do - to love and serve others.  Jesus says in Mark 10:43-45, "...whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be a slave to all.  For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve..."

Tony's final words to me, via text, came from the top of Stone Mountain.  It was as if they were scripted from heaven so that I would find comfort in them for the rest of my life:

"I'm at the top, starting to study. I wish you were here with me. It is beautiful up here, almost as beautiful as you."

And I know in my heart, that a little over an hour later, Tony heard these words from the God of the Universe:

"Well done, good and faithful servant!" ~ Matthew 25:21

Dearly loved,

Melissa

Not our home...

I've been reminded over and over this week that I am not the only one whose life has been turned upside down by tragedy and loss.  Story after story, pain continues to invade the lives of folks I know and even more I don't.

I was reminded yesterday of my first experience with a life-altering loss on September 11th, 1995, when my grandmother died suddenly.  I just adored this dear woman, who loved her grandkids more than life itself.  Of all the people I would have wanted Tony to meet, she was at the top of my list.

Add on top of this date 6 years later, September 11th, 2001, and it makes for quite the sad day.  I think none of us who lived through 9/11 could ever forget where we were, what we felt, and how it changed our lives forever.  And even if we could, we still feel the effects so much in our daily lives.  The security line at the airport always gets me - infringements on our freedom that all stemmed from deep hatred and thousands of lives lost.

It brings me back to an important truth that I took from watching those towers fall in New York.

This world is not our home.
It's not.  It's just not.
And because of the fall of man, God does not intend for it to be.
And because it's not our home, this world is not meant for our comfort and pleasure.

Occasionally I'll get the question of how I make sense of Tony's tragic fall.  Honestly, I don't think I'll ever make complete sense of it this side of heaven, becasue none of us are given a full view of our lives while on this earth. Yet, I do find peace in the truth above - that this world, full of sadness and hurt and uncomprehendable hardship, is just a temporary place until we are called home to heaven.

So I can say with full confidence, though bittersweet, that my love, my Tony, is finally home.

Dearly loved, and longing for home,
Melissa