I Didn't Miss It!

This was the first holiday season in 4 years that I actually enjoyed. I’ll consider that my very own Christmas miracle. It's the best present anyone could have wrapped up and placed under my tree.

I re-read a few of my posts from holidays past. Sheesh, I think I could have been cast to play Scrooge. But I must give grace where grace is due. I have come from the depths of sadness; I'm just so grateful I've found joy on the other side...joy that has nothing to do with my circumstances.

It's joy that has everything to do with the great work of my Healer God.

I loved what my pastor Billy (also known as the world’s greatest boss!) prayed during our Christmas services at Buckhead Church. He asked the Lord to help us to not miss Christmas. 

He was encouraging us to not miss Christ in the midst of the busy season. I took it in a broader sense.

The Christmas season of 2013 was one I showed up for; I did not miss it. At the beginning of November, standing in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in NYC with my sweet friend Sue, I made a conscious decision that I would be fully engaged in the holiday season...and that I would choose to enjoy it.

Here's a few things that I chose to do...

I slowed down; I had nothing particular on my agenda. I watched a lot of movies. For better or for worse, I discovered the Hallmark channel. It seems that a good half of those movies feature stories about widows and widowers. Perhaps I should submit my own script…as long as I get to pick the actor I end up with!

I took in moments, incredibly beautiful and powerful moments. My favorite was serving at a Night of Worship with 300 homeless men at Atlanta Mission. They sang "How He Loves" and it was all I could do to not burst into tears; Tony would have loved it.

I treasured sweet moments with my family, enjoying the presence of their company while choosing to be fully present. I found myself not dwelling on the shattered dreams of "what could have been," but instead being grateful for the incredible gifts I've been given. 

I read Christmas hymns. That’s correct, I read them. A good friend encouraged me to do so, after listening to my pre-Thanksgiving rant about not liking the music of this festive season. I learned there’s a reason these songs are repeated over and over again. Their words are powerful, timeless. I even sang a few too. The one that choked me up the most was the words to O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. I had never noticed these verses before...verses that describe my healing so well:

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

I celebrated the gift that I do life with some really amazing folks. I chose to look at my community of friends and colleagues through the lens of gratitude.

I laughed…a lot. I didn’t take myself (or this season) too seriously. I gave silly gifts. I sent silly Christmas cards. I dressed up all silly...yes, even in a blue Power Ranger suit...on stage at church...in front of thousands of people. I loved every moment.

I didn’t miss Christmas. I didn’t miss it this year. I engaged with my still-fragile but healing heart. I engaged with joy. And it ended with my very own snowfall in Denver as I wrapped up the season with my beautiful (and newly engaged...yay!) friend Tammy.

I’m so glad I didn't miss these moments, these friends, these gifts. I give all the credit to the One who gave his only son that first Christmas.

I look forward to 2014 with joy.

Dearly loved,

Melissa

As Yourself...

"And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’ The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.” ~ Mark 12:30-31 NLT

"I loved the way that he looked at you." That was the greatest compliment my mom could have ever given Tony. She could see how much he loved and cared for me just by the look in his eyes.

Priceless.

He took lots of pictures and videos of me over our 3 and a half years together from dating to his last days on this earth. At the time, I'd tilt my head and politely ask him to stop. I hated pictures of just myself. Those images became treasures in the aftermath of his passing. They now provide a timeless reminder of how he looked at me, how he saw me.

He saw me as dearly loved.
He was the catalyst for me learning to see myself that way too.

This 3rd year of grief has been a turning point for me. I no longer view life through the lens of loosing Tony. Most days, my first thought in the morning is not that of being a widow. I've let go of Tony in a multitude of ways; I've let go of how life "should have been."

And in it's place, I've begun to embrace what's on the other side of my loss. And what I've uncovered has been completely unexpected.

I've discovered what it looks like to love myself.
I've found freedom in settling into my own skin.
I'm embracing myself with open and accepting arms...
for the very first time in my life.

Shocking, I know.

A few months back, I was asked by a woman who I esteem highly for her insight and wisdom, "Melissa, how do you feel about yourself?"

I quickly blurted out, "I don't like myself; most days I downright hate being me." There. I had finally said it. I had finally put words around an angst I had carried almost my entire life.

Her next challenge to me was the very verses above. "What do you think about the 2nd greatest commandment from Jesus to love your neighbor as yourself?"

It hit me like a ton of bricks. If I talked to my neighbor the way I talked to myself, I'd have no friends. How could I love my neighbor as myself if I could not honestly say that I loved myself? Years of striving to be perfect, of trying to combat the fear of never being "good enough," had taken it's toll.

It all seems so simple, but my life truly changed that day. I've never been the same. I never want to be the same.

I've attributed Tony over and over these last 3 and a half years for teaching me what it was like to be loved extravagantly, of how that was just a tiny taste of how my great God loves me. What I didn't realize until now is that was just the beginning. His love, even in it's brevity, instigated a freedom movement in my heart and my mind.

I've been set free to love myself, not in a self-absorbed sort of way, but through a lens of authenticity, of kindness and gentleness for myself....as myself.

I'm finding that loving my neighbor out of this love is so much more life-giving, a natural overflow. And I'm just starting to grasp how God sees me and loves me too.

So, on what would have been his 39th birthday, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to my late husband, Tony. I'm finally seeing me the way he saw me. And that is a beautiful thing. It's a beautiful beginning.

Dearly loved, as myself,
Melissa

My Identity

This past September marks 3 years of when I hit my absolute rock-bottom in my grief journey. It took 6 months for the "bubble wrap protecting my brain" to fully unravel after Tony's death. The pain was so intense. To be quite candid, I felt as if I had nothing, absolutely nothing in life to look forward to. I was surrounded by darkness so intense I could not see any glimmer of hope.

I had reached the depths of the depths.
Nothing and no one on this earth could pull me out.
I was in so deep, only Jesus could reach me.

And He did.
He has slowly pulled me out; He has set my feet on firm ground again; He has gently restored my heart and my life.
He continues to heal me.
He is amazing. Nothing is impossible for Him.

It's hard to describe but for the last 3 and a half years, I've carried an underlying sadness. Even as I've moved forward and settled in to my new normal, it was still there. It haunted me; it caused me to falsely believe that this is how I'd feel for the rest of my life.

It was a different feeling than the reality that I'll always miss Tony; that he'll forever have a place in my heart. This sadness was more like a thief, slowly stealing my joy, distorting my view of the Truth.

I got to a place where I was just tired of feeling sad, of letting it defeat and deflate me. I sought wise counsel, and through a series of steps that God set in place, I faced those feelings head on.

3 months later, I can honestly say, the underlying sadness is gone.
It's gone.

Sure, I'll still have days when I'm sad; that's normal. But sadness is no longer the lens through which I view all of life. Being a widow is no longer the lens I look through either.

Widowhood is a part of my story; it's not my entire story.
It's not my identity either.

Funny, my trip to Uganda, where I served alongside the most beautiful widows, affirmed this. Yes, I feel the Lord calling to continue to serve widows in some capacity. But it's because of verse after verse in the Bible commanding His followers to care for the widow. My story just gives me leverage and a common experience.

I don't have to be a widow to care for widows. I just want to give life and love to these most precious women; I want to give them something to look forward to too.

Hope.

I'm more hopeful than ever before. I am expectant again that I do have things to look forward to, that my future is bright.

My identity is rooted and secure in Christ. He is my identity.

Dearly loved,
Melissa

A Page is Turned...

“There comes a time when you must quit talking to God about the mountain in your life and start talking to the mountain about God.” - Mark Batterson, author of The Circle Maker

"Melissa, how are you these days?" That's the most common question I'm getting recently. So much so that I thought I'd just make it the subject of my latest post.

This quote above sums it up so well. So very well.

I came across it this summer as I furiously read the book I quoted above. It's timing was perfect.

I can honestly say... it's a new day, a new season. A page has been turned in my story.

And the theme surrounding it's fresh, new chapter is ... freedom.
I have never felt more free in my entire life.
Free.
Only Jesus.

He's orchestrated pivotal circumstances over the last 6 months that have led to this freedom. I am so in awe. I am so incredibly grateful. It brings tears to my eyes to just think about how faithful my great God is. He is IT for me. He is IT.

As I've written before, I've had many a conversation with my God as I drive down I-85 South from my parents' house. I know the exact point when Stone Mountain is in clear sight. My drives over the last few months have been at either sunset or sunrise. The sky around the mountain is stunning. Just stunning.

Since passing the 3 year mark of Tony's death this past March, I've noticed a shift in my words, my very attitude. I used to assume the role of victim to the mountain that was so instrumental in shattering my very life; I was quite honest in telling the Lord how I felt about it. Some days I wished an earthquake would just swallow it up.

Really.

Now I find myself in a posture of gratitude. I look at that mountain and can't help but tell it about my God. My very personal, gentle, healer God, who has never once abandoned me on this very hard journey. My great God who continues to restore me and my very life.

I am redeemed.
I've been set free.
I am dearly loved by the Creator of the Universe.

I am overwhelmed by what He has done and will do in my life. That's how I'm doing these days.

Dearly loved, talkin' to that mountain,
Melissa

Everything She Had

I shared in my last post about how for one Ugandan widow, the story of Jesus washing his disciples feet came alive as we washed hers. Our team experienced the Scriptures come alive as well.

We wrapped up our Sunday afternoon with these precious women by taking photos outside the small school house. The widows immediately wanted to see their photos, to see themselves; we gathered around my iPhone, I zoomed in on each of their beautiful faces. We communicated through laughter and smiles. I thought about how often I quickly delete or untag myself from photos I don't think are "good" of myself. My sweet new friends were just happy to capture the moment, to see themselves; they did not critique their imperfections. 

I have a lot to learn.
This was just the first lesson.

I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. As I turned around, I was greeted by a warm smile and an arm extended. In this sweet widow's hand were a bag of eggs.

She spoke in English, "You are my friend. I want you to have these."

Eggs. 

We hugged; I thanked her. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them, but I knew I just needed to accept them. I later learned that eggs are not easily accessible or affordable in this community. She had given me a precious gift.

That was just the first one.

The next day, a beautiful widow named Angela visited us. We were surrounded by children who we were enrolling in the 410 Bridge Child Sponsorship Program. She smiled and proudly presented us with sugar cane from her garden. Another simple, yet precious gift. Our team took a break; we watched as our driver cut the sugar cane up into bite-sized pieces. We became the brunt of laughter as we learned from the children how to chew it to get the best taste. It was fun; it was delicious!

It was the best she had to give us.

In the days following, anytime we were in the village, a widow walked to find us and bring us a gift from her garden or farm. Avocados, casava, and more eggs. They were each such kind, sincere gestures.

Still, I had only begun to grasp their profound significance.

It all came together for me on one of the last days in the village. We had the honor of visiting a few widows homes. We planned to pray with each of them and give them a couple mosquito nets to cover their beds at night. I had no idea what to expect.

Our bus took us down a dusty dirt road. Several members of the village's 410 Bridge Leadership Council accompanied us. These village leaders are incredible, and their vision for their community is contagious. God is doing a mighty work through them.

Hope.

One by one, they pointed out widow's home after widow's home.

I was overwhelmed. This community has been ravaged by HIV and the affects of limited access to clean water.

We divided up into small groups. I followed my teammates up to the first home where we were greeted by the gentle smile of a little girl. It was a welcome distraction from the poverty that lay in front of us.

We greeted the gracious widow and she invited us into her tiny house made from mud and what looked like bamboo sticks. She was proud of her humble home where she raised 4 grandchildren on her own. We walked back outside and presented her with the mosquito nets. She embraced us and thanked us in her language.

I began to walk away, heart-broken. It was at that point I noticed her small garden to the side of her home.

I thought to myself, "This is how she provides for herself and her grandkids. This is what she lives on."

This is everything she has.

I thought about all those gifts we had been given throughout the week, from all our new friends who were widows. They most likely have a garden just like this one.

And they gave away the very best of their gardens to our team. They gave to us out of the little they had to live on.

These very verses came alive in that moment:

"As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” (Luke 21: 1-4 NIV)

What a beautiful sacrifice, what a fragrant offering. I am forever grateful.

Dearly loved, for widows,
Melissa

Special thanks to my roommate for our Uganda trip, Tammy, who took these amazing photographs.

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

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