ForgottenWoman

Defining Moments Blog Combined to Date…

I’m guessing you’ve said these words.   I’m sure you’ve heard others say these words!    Usually, these words indicate an instance that made an impression that lasts.  For me, I’ve given a title to these times:  I call them Defining Moments!  

“I’ll never forget when…”

I was in middle school.  A group of friends and I were at the skating rink and it seemed the awkward moments were limitless!  My friend was one of those blond-haired, blue-eyed beauties and she never seemed to be lacking male attention.  As she and I stood together laughing and talking with a few others, a 13-year-old boy made a face as he shouted loud enough for anyone within the room to hear,  “Gross!   When you laugh I can see nasties in your throat!”   The fun of the day ended immediately for my friend as she, in tears, ran from the rink.   I followed her and spent the rest of the day trying to console her, but here I am more than 40 years later and I can tell you that this was a defining moment in my life!  We can argue all day about whether or not she was too sensitive to the criticisms of a young teen trying to be funny.  (To be honest, he may have been trying to get her attention – you know;  trying to flirt and failing?)  That wasn’t what struck me at that moment.  What struck me was how painful words can be!  We used to run around the playground singing,  “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me!”  It wasn’t true.   I determined right there that I would NEVER make a public negative comment about someone else’s appearance or even try to be funny at someone else’s expense!  I saw the pain it caused my friend and never wanted to be responsible for that kind of pain in someone else’s life.  While a quick glance at life or even a thorough examination of our priorities would indicate that it’s the big events that define our lives;  I would argue that in truth our lives are built around and molded by moments of clarification, perspective:  a change of mind.  A Defining Moment:  a moment of time in my life that I can look back and know the instant something made such an impression on me that it triggered something:  resulting in a decision – a decision that played a role in who I am as a person.   Scripture speaks of the renewing of the mind being what transforms us;  “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”   Being transformed into the image of Christ is exactly what I want the Defining Moments of my life to accomplish.   

As I relive the moments and endeavor to share how each one has defined my life today, I’m reminded of two overarching ways the combination of the entirety of them has influenced personal growth.  The two constant questions I ask myself are:  “Is this going to matter in eternity?”  And “Those words you are thinking of speaking:  are they kind, necessary and true?”   

A quick look at each of these often incites quick responses.  Some that I’ve heard over the years:  “You don’t want to be so heavenly minded that you are no earthly good!”  or “It’s necessary and it’s true – I can’t help it if it isn’t kind.”  In short; if I can view each moment in light of eternity, I can make decisions that are best for time and all of eternity.  As far as my words:  we all know that there are many circumstances in our lives that real love requires that we say the hard thing because it is true and necessary;  even when it doesn’t feel kind.  There are other times when the hard thing must be said and evil must be dealt with – but as a general rule in my daily life, this question is a great reminder.  When I am tempted to let my words unleash my frustration onto another human being:  Is it kind, necessary, and true?   When I think it would be funny to humiliate another human by calling out a failure, a mistake, or a struggle:  Is it kind, necessary, and true?  

I’ll never forget when:

I was around 9 or 10 and we were out Christmas shopping.  My mother and grandmother were in the front of the car and my sister and I were in the back.  As we turned into the mall we were t-boned.  No one was seriously injured but the following moments were forever etched in my memory.  As my mother spoke with the police officers,  I eagerly spoke up to give my opinion, (you can imagine a 10-year-old in the back seat calling out to the officer and giving my very valuable opinion of what happened).   My dear sweet grandmother abruptly snapped her head around and said,  “HUSH!”   While no one necessarily had done wrong in this situation, (well, I probably should have been seen and not heard in this scenario)  it was a defining moment for me.  I learned very quickly a lesson about interrupting when there are emergency situations.  A decision was made at that moment and to this day, even if I think my side of the story needs to be heard,  I will most likely wait until someone asks to hear it.  Honestly, not all defining moments are painful, but quite often they have a sting to them – something that leaves an impression on the memory.   

I will never forget when: 

 My sister and I were both in the 6th grade.  She had skipped the 5th and joined me earlier in the school year.  (We won’t discuss this moment right now – but it was a biggie!)    The little boy that I considered my “boyfriend” and the little girl that was her best friend at the time were siblings.  We would learn during a lunch break one day that their family had discussed the two of us at dinner the night before.  In the conversation, apparently, the mother had compared my sister and me.  She had used words to describe our appearances (comparing us down to the smallest details)  and had apparently even announced which one of us she preferred.  (It wasn’t me!)   In my young mind, this was disturbing on many levels.  Maybe it was because of our ages, but the thought of a group of people sitting around discussing my physical features and my shy personality and determining how much they liked me based on that (I had never had a conversation with this lady so how could she know me?) really made an impact!   As this information was relayed to us it was honestly a defining moment for me.   In my young mind, my feelings were hurt that we had been discussed like this;  and I determined right then and there that I would never discuss the comparisons between individuals in that manner – and to this day, you better not compare my kids or grandkids!   There is a silent rage that arises whenever someone uses the words “my favorite” or asks someone to compare them!   My question to those who do this:  “What is your purpose?”  There is no way these conversations end up uplifting others – they always leave someone hurt, confused, or both:  and often the effects last for years, or even a lifetime.  

Life is full of these defining moments.  Some have a greater impact than others and I believe that most of us can point to defining moments in our lives that have forever changed us.  For me, there are many.  Some, like those I’ve already shared, are small incidents that just happen and affect us.  Others, like the ones I’ll continue to share, are what we define as “Traumatic” experiences which we would all recognize as large and life-altering.  What I have come to understand is that while each defining moment has a purpose of its own and while each one dramatically alters my life at the moment, it is the combination of those defining moments (large and small) of life that has the power to conform us into all that God created us to be.  With each one (defining moment) we have a choice:  the choice to allow ourselves to be made better or the choice to squander the opportunities of life.   It has taken me years to write this particular story.  It is very real.  It is very raw.  It is so incredibly personal and it began before the social media surge: before you could tell the world the details of your life as they happen. 

To be honest, I’m not sure I could have shared it before now;   even if social media had been a thing while I was experiencing the beginning of this journey.  (The journey is my life – so it is a continuing story)  I’ve been given the opportunity to share bits and pieces over the years and have often been asked to put it all together in written form.  It just never seemed to be the right time.  Until recently.  Once the decision was made to move forward, confirmation came from everywhere.  It is time!  

This is my story, but you know;   each of us has our own story and while the defining moments of our stories combined make us who we are; quite often we are oblivious to what makes one another tick!  Sharing our personal walks is frightening because it opens us up to the judgments or criticisms of others; but keeping our journeys to ourselves also keeps the lessons of the journey limited in their scope or ability to affect others.   If we are truly here to impact our world and make a difference, we certainly need to be willing to open up and share. So, to answer the question of why would anyone’s personal story need to take written form:  For me it is simple:  In every defining moment where God is clearly working, sanctifying, and moving in our lives, we can learn and grow alone or we can proclaim His mighty works. Psalm 145: 3-5 “Great is the LORD and greatly to be praised; His greatness is unsearchable.  One generation will commend Your works to the next, and they shall proclaim Your mighty acts; the glorious splendor of Your majesty. And I will meditate on Your wondrous works.…”   The other option is simply to keep every lesson to ourselves.  I have promised myself that nothing in my life will remain as my own.  I will share and allow God to use what I have lived and learned to benefit others.   There is so much more to learn along the way and THAT is an exciting prospect.  

 In this process, I have realized that many of the gritty details of my story have never been told.  Even many in my circle of people who have loved and prayed for me at various times were unaware of the real deal. Why? I cannot with authority answer that, but I have a guess.  When speaking of hypothetical situations we are quick to give opinions, quick to state what we would do if… Fiction is a favorite book genre for me because while I can get involved in the story, when the hard parts come along I can remind myself that someone just made this up!  Many of us love romantic, beautiful stories, and facing hard realities is just plain uncomfortable.  Why am I such a fan of the current Hallmark Channel with movie after movie of reconciled relationships and beautiful outcomes?  (My children tease me that it is silly to watch something that we already know the outcome of.)  But you know what?  It feels good.  My heart is soothed.  For at least the hours of that movie, everything is going to be okay.  

 But real life is different. Why do so many quietly struggle with the hard parts of life alone? Why were the details of my ‘not such a fairy tale life’ or my  “Abort or Die” story not fully shared?    Maybe it was too frightening to actually talk about.  Maybe I could see the looks on people’s faces when I started to open up. Maybe it was too controversial.  Maybe I appeared to be ‘not quite sane’ and no one wanted to speak of it. Maybe it is because the person living the details has to make hard decisions that no one else can understand. Maybe it’s because nobody knows how to treat a 23 year old widow.

And, maybe it is because in this world of religious confusion many are putting God’s name on their choices and claiming that He directed them to do things that are in direct conflict with His Word.  This is not only mocking the reality of God, it also causes many of us to be extremely cautious in how we approach and share God’s work in our personal lives.  It may also be that as humans there are so many moments in our lives when we honestly don’t know if God just reached down and worked supernaturally in a situation or if He is using what He has taught us along the way to guide and direct our choices.   Whatever the reasons, they no longer matter.  It is time to unashamedly talk about our great God, His work, His preparing me for this journey beforehand, the incredible though imperfect building of my family,  the story of a  boy who is today a walking example of what only God can do and the truth of an imperfect marriage and family striving one day at a time to do life God’s way.   My Defining Moments have taught and continue to teach me many things and I hope your takeaway will be multifaceted as well. 

One thing I must say in the beginning is this: whether you are reading this as a Christ-follower or as an unbeliever, one thing must be determined in your heart and mind.  Either God is God or He isn’t!   Either God creates life or He doesn’t. Either God cares for His creation or He doesn’t.   Either God knows best or He does not!   We need to stop piddling around in the muddy middle and decide.  Then live accordingly.  And for the love of all that we represent, walk in joy!  As I work to share my story, I am praying fervently that you will see the truth!  

Psalm 145: 3-5 “Great is the LORD and greatly to be praised; His greatness is unsearchable.  One generation will commend Your works to the next, and they shall proclaim Your mighty acts,  the glorious splendor of Your majesty. And I will meditate on Your wondrous works.…” 

In our world today,  we are being fed a lie:  the lie that says there is no absolute truth.  This lie tells us that God’s design for the family is flawed and we are so wonderful in and of ourselves that we can rewrite His plan and make it suit our whims.  Sadly,  it is adults who are leading the way and teaching this to our children and young people!  There is nothing more confusing than the notion that ‘there is no right and wrong, there is no absolute truth and it doesn’t really matter what you believe:  it’s all good!’  I’m sharing because I am living the incredibly abundant life of a daughter of the Most High King and I KNOW the peace that passes understanding:  even in the darkest moments of life!  I KNOW the God of the universe Who put it all into orbit and Who is not only Holy, Omnipotent, and Omniscient, but Loving, Merciful and a good, good Father.

Every story has a background and every individual has a history that brings us to the defining moments of our lives.  I don’t want to simply share moments without sharing the background.  So, hang on!

While I didn’t always understand my parents’ decisions, it never crossed my mind to question their love for me or their integrity as people.  I was surrounded with Biblical teaching, strict handbooks, other families just like ours and life was relatively safe. But there were moments, incidents, decisions and even patterns that not only caused me some difficulties – they also worked together to mold me. As I entered my teen years I struggled inwardly with the meaning of my life:  was I truly a Christian, and was I living a life that honored the God I was always learning about.   I didn’t have a peace that passes understanding about my salvation and eternal security.  (May I reiterate that this was not the fault of my parents? The process of coming to personal faith in Christ is personal.  My parents facilitated the process and I am forever grateful.   I made a profession of faith as a young girl:  believing that I was a sinner and needed a Savior.  Throughout my formative years I strove to be obedient, follow the rules, please those in authority over me, and of course; not cross any lines that would anger an Almighty God.  My faith in Him was real but was driven by fear.   Part of that fear was just a natural part of my personality.  Another part of that fear came from some of the teachings in churches, schools, and those around me.  

It was a blessing to grow up in an upper-middle-class family with a mom and dad who were both present.  Both parents worked outside of the home to provide and keep my 3 siblings and me in private, Christian schools and as a family we faithfully attended church.  Again: a blessing.   In an age where it is popular to look back and blame parents and upbringing for any adult problems; I choose to not participate in this trend.  I will always look back with love and respect for the home and family life my parents gave me.  What they gave me was a foundation in my life that could be built upon and I am grateful!  I’m not burying my head in the sand and pretending that I was the one individual on the planet with perfect parents and a perfect childhood. What in the world is that, anyway? You and I should fully understand and acknowledge that perfection is not possible nor is it what God allows in any of our lives. We can talk further about the difference in flawed parenting by good people and abuse which is perpetrated by evil or self absorbed parents; but that’s for another day and blog.

Upon high school graduation, it was assumed that I would attend a Christian university.  (We tend to do things according to an outline we’ve created for our lives or according to what those we are surrounded by think we should do.)  Quite honestly, this is one of the things that I struggled inwardly with.  If God indeed created me as a unique individual with a unique plan and purpose for my life:  why was there one right path for all good little Christian girls to follow?  Why did my desires, strengths, weaknesses, personality, and goals not matter?  Although I had these questions;  as I stated before, I followed the rules, the plan.  I did as I was told.  

My inward struggles continued. As a young college student, I looked around and found myself frustrated with the lists, the routine, the external emphasis, and the stress this life of never-ending stress and effort caused. I saw it everywhere I turned.  I didn’t doubt that the people all around me were sincere, that they believed this was what the Christian life was supposed to look like:  I just couldn’t fully wrap my mind around it.  I was uncomfortable – and where was the peace?   That wasn’t present.  I found myself constantly asking a few questions. Where is the genuine love for one another that I read about in Scripture?  Where is kindness, grace, peace: and where is the joy?  Where is the rest in a loving Father?   If we are right, if Christians are doing life the way it is supposed to be done;  shouldn’t the result be a deep abiding joy?  *Not a fleeting good feeling, but a joy that remains when life is hard, unpredictable, or ugly?    I would walk around campus and smile and speak to individuals as I passed them and it seemed to make others uncomfortable.  I felt that I was in the midst of a great sea of young people who were all tenuously walking a tightrope;  fearful of any misstep and more conscious of what the other good little Christians were doing than of a personal God we were supposed to be serving. May I repeat that?  It seemed we were more conscious of what the other good little Christians were doing than of a personal God we were supposed to be serving!  What I was seeing on this Christian campus ate at my insides.  I was constantly questioning what I was seeing and comparing it with what I believed a life of following after Christ should look like.  I was not well known on campus. I was quiet and shy and always thinking.  My dad always described me as a “people watcher!”   He only knew part of the story!  I was watching.  I was taking mental notes.  I was considering what it all meant!  Constantly.    And yes;  my father was one of those that I watched and studied.   

You know, one of the things I loved about my father was his “real-ness.”  Included in that “real-ness” was his laughter.  It felt safe. It felt natural when he told stupid jokes and laughed from his belly.  It felt safe when I said something ridiculous and he laughed deeply.  What is sad, is that in these “Christian settings” those moments seemed inappropriate, seemed unchristian, and needed to be kept at home.  Christianity around me felt stuffy, cold, and sophisticated to the point of fake!  Not only was joy to be contained, but sadness as well. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I feel deeply.  It is true that those who have hurt deeply, feel deeply.  This is true of me today:  however,  I was born with the “deep feeling thing” before I ever experienced real pain.  So at this point,  I am just one big double dose of feelings.   I can feel overwhelming sadness over being separated from those I love for a period of time, over disappointment or hurt.  I can feel overwhelming sadness over being left out or forgotten.  And I cry.  Often, I remember in the sterile, Christian environments being told, “Don’t do that!”  “Don’t cry!”  What?   “Don’t laugh too much;  that appears to be immature.”  “Don’t cry.  That appears to be immature.”  “Just be stoic.”  In other words, just put your shoulders back, lift your chin and do life!  Feelings, emotions, too much showing what’s going on inside is not for the adult world;  and most definitely not for the Christian adult world.  There is a certain persona that we are supposed to exude. Now do it!   Just today I heard a message on Christian radio stating that a Christian is never to operate in feelings.  While I understand the message here, I honestly believe that to pretend we aren’t supposed to have or acknowledge these feelings is just dishonest.  What the Bible teaches is to bring those feelings into subjection to the truth.  So, we are to renew our minds and when we practice renewing our minds, the right feelings follow!  

Life is full of emotion: both joy and sorrow.   As a child and young adult, I often asked the questions:  Why does everything have to be so hard?  Why is it “ungodly” to do the things I enjoy?  What is the answer I was given?  “Oh, the purpose is to build character.”  Rules that had no rhyme or reason were simply for the purpose of building character.  (My question was always,  “So, exactly for what occasion is all of this character being developed?) So, by the time I was in my freshman year of college, my idea of being a good Christian girl was summed up like this.  Life is no fun.  It isn’t supposed to be.  Laughter shows immaturity, so control that.  Crying shows weakness and you aren’t supposed to be weak, so control that.  Be grateful that we have put things in place to make your life more difficult:  because that is building character.   This character we are building will make you appear to be godly.  

So yes, I was walking around a Christian campus, quietly doing the “right” thing but inwardly miserable. It felt plastic.  It all felt surface and I didn’t trust the people around me.  What in the world are they living for?  Is the goal for the person on one end of the hall to be perceived as more spiritual than the person on the other end of the hall? 

It was on a Monday night when I looked in the mirror and said,  “I’ve had it!”  I came to a point where I believed that only God could answer the nagging questions in my mind.  I found a prayer closet under the stairwell in my dorm and I sat with a Bible in my lap and I began to read and pray.  I confessed that while I had made a profession of faith as a 5-year-old, I felt like I was walking a walk directed to me by others.  I felt I didn’t know this God I had given my life to.  I wanted REAL!   I wanted a relationship that brought the peace, direction, understanding, and joy that Scripture talks about!  I knew these verses!  Psalm 30:5  “For His anger is but for a moment, and His favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”   Romans 5:1-5 “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through Him, we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”   Did you see in that verse where the character isn’t the end goal?  The character produces HOPE!  Hope and God’s love in our hearts:  THAT is the end!  I asked God to make Himself real to me!  This was a Defining Moment. 

As I continued through my daily college life there was one young man that stood out to me on the entire campus.  I named him “Gorgeous Eyes” from afar and I told my roommates that I would one day marry him.  What was it about his eyes?  There was a sparkle.  There was joy.  There was life.  You know what else?  He wasn’t afraid to laugh. (loudly)   He wasn’t even afraid to break a rule here and there.  It was through mutual friends that we were introduced and once he asked me to attend a basketball game on campus with him, it was settled: This guy was going to be my future husband.  You know what?   He was also aware that one day I would be his wife. Both of us had played the dating game and we recognized the difference in all of the other dates and this immediate connection that we shared.  Due to the nature of “dating policies” on this campus we spent many hours sitting and talking;  forcing us to really know each other. We learned much about how the other thought, what our backgrounds were like, and what made us tick. 

It was during these talks, walking the “snail trail” and while sitting on a couch in what was called the Dating Parlour that I shared with him my weariness of all of the outward “stuff,”  my disillusionment with what I saw around me and what I wanted my walk with Christ to look like.  He understood!  In fact,  he challenged me to set aside what others thought and focus on learning Who God is for myself, to determine who I was in Christ and what gave me joy! 

As our relationship blossomed, my appreciation for his honesty and openness increased.  Being able to trust each other with our thoughts, ideas, doubts, concerns, and our desires forged a connection between us that made us inseparable friends.  While I knew I loved everything about him, I was a bit fearful that his personality would be a shock to my family.  I knew my dad would love him but my mom is what I call “Victorian Proper”  and I was not sure she would appreciate the humor and openness as much as I did.    On his first visit into my parents’ home, he picked up an ornamental piece and began to impersonate Elvis during our family sing-a-long.  There was no stopping this guy from just being real.  There was nothing Mom could do but love and accept him! 

I pause in my own story to introduce you to this “Gorgeous Eyes” that I’ve spoken of in my previous post. It’s important to consider various backgrounds and experiences that bring us to where we are when we recognize defining moments in our lives; how we respond to them and how our response determines the next defining moment.

“Gorgeous Eyes” was also raised in a Christian home. Since our education was during the 70s and early 80s in my case; we were both products of the Christian school movement of that era. The difference? His father was the pastor of the church that was home to the Christian school that he came up through. The other difference? He was the youngest of 6 children and did not have my “just be the good kid” personality. He challenged the boundaries. He broke the rules. He was adored and protected by older siblings to a point and he questioned everything. If he was told he couldn’t do something; he wanted to know why. At the same time, he was kind and loved people – big. This was the one thing we had in common. I loved people big but much more quietly than he did. We both struggled with the lack of love we saw among those who championed the Christian school movement.

These are the characteristics of his life that directed the defining moments that led him to the Christian college where we met. He graduated from his Christian high school and left for a Christian college on a baseball scholarship. But… he really was tired of the rules that he didn’t have “reasons” for and decided it wasn’t for him. He loved the baseball part, but the rest… he was miserable! Unsure of what to do at this point, he decided to join the Marines. After all, his father had been a Marine and there was much pride surrounding his service. Maybe this would make his father proud. Many young men desire to make Dad proud – and it isn’t any different for a preacher’s kid who was always the kid that had way too much fun and always found himself in trouble. That PK’s glass house allowed his every move to be spotlighted but he didn’t allow it to dampen his enthusiasm for the joy of life.

It was while going through Basic Training that he suffered a bleeding ulcer and was given a choice – “We can honorably discharge you and you can go home and get healthy, or you can try to stay here – but you are really sick.” His desire to make his father proud drove his first response which was, “I’m not a quitter – I’ll stay here and push through!” Then something inside of him changed and he said, “No. I’m going home.”

On this same day, I was a high school student. You’ll remember the day that President Reagan was shot. I got into my mom’s car at the end of the day and she made a statement that I had never heard from her before that day nor did I ever hear it after. (At least not that I remember) She said, “You need to be praying for your future husband!” This statement was made during our conversation concerning the shooting of our president. It would be cemented in my mind.

During my freshman year in college in the winter of 1983 “Gorgeous Eyes” and I were sitting in that Dating Parlor full of couches. We were sharing our backgrounds and how we ended up at this particular school. When he told me that story and that after returning home he had given his heart to Christ and decided to attend the school his father had graduated from; and that was where we were now sitting; I quietly giggled. I remembered my mother’s words on the same day that he made the decision to return home. I had prayed for him. I was indeed going to marry this guy – he just didn’t know it yet!

The year is 2023 and we are a mighty knowledgeable people! With information and opinions literally at our fingertips we can “educate” ourselves to the point of nauseam. In doing so we have become quite the judgemental people.

Tell me what you are struggling with today and I can tell you what someone in your past did wrong to “cause” your personality disorder, your PTSD, your ADHD, your autism, your anger, your bitterness, your lack of discipline, your marital problems… See, I read what Mary Mary said about it and she must be right!

We all saw this played out during the C19 health crisis. What should we have also learned during that and since? That all that we read, all that we are assured is proven fact, all that the “professionals” are spewing – is not necessarily true! We should have learned our own intuition and wisdom; that seeking facts for ourselves, that doing what we believe is right regardless of what our neighbor thinks or is doing- well, this is good!

We’ve just completed 6 parts of Defining Moments that cover very generally the childhood of two players in the story. What I want to do at this point is pause and ask you to consider something with me and hopefully this will be a defining moment for many of us moving forward.

Our childhoods do play an enormous role in determining who we are as people. The choices of our parents do matter. The circumstances of our upbringing do mold parts of us. The whole argument about nature versus nurture will probably continue on endlessly. In addition, genetics determine bits and pieces of the whole picture. As we grow and experience life we also begin to make our own choices that determine other outcomes and pieces of our lives.

In our world of information overload that has led to the abundance of critiquing and harsh judgment of one another, we’ve entered a time of information arrogance that has destroyed and continues to destroy. Yes, the constant flow of new information and availability of research and applying these things to our lives today (after researching for ourselves and determining what is true) is a good thing. But taking all of what we have available today and pointing back and belittling and demeaning and mocking the parenting, the way of life, the choices and wisdom of past generations has become the popular thing to do and it is wrong.

Since the beginning of time families have been made up of fathers and mothers and children who all have sin natures, genetic codes and makeup that determine some things; cultural influences, life experiences, the normal traumas of natural disasters, wars, human relationships, the ever changing availability of information and understanding, the ever changing world around us… all of it has been a part of human life from the beginning.

The “how to’s’ of life seem to go in cycles. In other words, with the ever increasing availability of opinions and information we are bombarded with the latest thing that is “best.” This is true from what is good to eat versus what is poisoning you every time you ingest it, to should a mother breast or bottle feed. (I experienced this as a young mother in 1985. The generation ahead of me had not breastfed their babies, were often put to sleep during childbirth and had few books available to them on childrearing. I believe there was a Dr. Spock who was the rage in how to do it all. In 1985, however; when I became a mother for the first time, the thinking was quite different. The pressure was strong on new mothers. If you wanted to do what was best for your baby; natural childbirth was the only way to go and you better believe that better be followed only by breastfeeding. There was very little wiggle room and in my personal case; an emergency Cesarean after failing at natural childbirth left me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. In the very first moments of his life, I had failed my baby. How in the world could I ever do anything right moving forward as a mother? I would not fail at breastfeeding – no matter what! The older generation didn’t understand; some even thought it was disgusting! I remember hiding to feed my baby in some family gatherings because it was such a strange thing to them but I was fighting to do so because the latest information told me this was best. I wouldn’t learn until several years later that my Cesarean quite literally saved the lives of both me and my son – and I would subsequently have many more.

Let’s talk about the thing that you don’t want me to talk about. The two players in my story so far – myself and “gorgeous eyes” were both spanked as children. We were spanked. We were not beaten. Were there sometimes bruises left from the switch, paddle or belt? Yes. Were we abused? No. Were we sometimes spanked when maybe our parents should have listened to why we did what we did, or waited a little while before making their decision that we deserved it? Well, of course. But we learned that doing wrong causes pain. We learned that there were consequences to our choices. In today’s world of overload of information there is no differentiating between spanking and beating and to be sure, they are very different things! In my generation many of our parents loved us and our parents wanted us to understand that our choices could destroy us if we didn’t learn to make good ones. Many used the same methods of discipline as their neighbors, had the same house rules and trusted one another with their children. They were doing their best to raise children who would one day be honorable adults and they were doing it based on the information they had available. I can even tell you that at one point “Gorgeous Eyes’ decided as a teen to try something that could have been very destructive to his life. He had an older sibling who found out and guess what happened? His older brother did give him a “beating” – the kind where the big brother teaches the younger brother a major lesson in life. When “Gorgeous Eyes” told me the story a few years later there was no hint that he had been abused. He knew full well that his brother loved him so much and he wanted him to know what would happen if he ever made that life choice again! As we shared with one another our pasts and considered our relationship moving forward we were grateful for all of the parts that made up our childhoods. We considered the good, the bad and the traumatic very simply as part of life and growth. And we entered into our own young adult lives with much of the same information that our parents before us had. The information that had been passed down from the generation before. The internet, google, information overload that we have today (40 years later) was not yet a thing.

What am I asking you to pause and consider with me here? In our information arrogance let us not confuse the difference between bad people (those who do not love, those who care only for themselves, those who think and act selfishly, those who do not have the best interest of others in mind, those who continue on in their selfish pursuits) with good people (those who love, who serve, who consider others, who have the best interest of others in mind and who continue to pursue loving and serving others) but who have made mistakes or made choices that they later learned may not have been best. In our information arrogance let us recognize good people for who they are and be grateful for the gifts of love and direction, the sacrifices made and the lessons taught us by those imperfect yet loving parents and grandparents who came before us and who functioned in a world that didn’t have the informational overload that we have today. Let’s set down our arrogance, stop pointing our fingers in the faces of good people and pick up an attitude of gratitude for them!

There is so much more that could be said about the childhoods of both “Gorgeous Eyes” and myself – and now is a good time to say lots of it. As I’ve shared previously, we were both raised in Christian homes: meaning our parents were believers and raised us in church, in Christian schools and focused on making sure we were introduced to the truth of God’s Word at every turn. We attended summer camps that were run by believers, we were surrounded by other families that were believers, we were faithful to attend the local church on Sundays and most Wednesdays. It was what Christians did in this time when private Christian schools were just becoming the “thing” and parents all across America sacrificed financially to provide this for their children. Much of what he and I knew and were familiar with was similar.

When we met and began talking about our faith and what we wanted our Christian walk to be, it wasn’t that we sat and discussed everything our parents did wrong. It was quite the opposite. We sat and discussed everything our parents did right – and how as we looked around at the Chrisitan society around us, we knew that much of what had been produced by the “circles” we had grown up in wasn’t produced because our parents had been negligent or evil: but because many in leadership were using a system to bolster their own “importance” and create robotic followers – instead of true Christ followers. “Gorgeous Eyes” and I both were longing for the real thing and as the Bible speaks of iron sharpening iron; we were able to help each other navigate through the maze: each coming from our own perspectives and personalities. He refused to obey for the sake of conformity – he wanted to know why laughter was forbidden, why enjoyment was forbidden, why the love of life was considered frivolous. I obeyed for the sake of peace – but I also wanted to know why laughter was forbidden, why enjoyment was forbidden and why the love of life was considered frivolous! In fact, I wanted to know why there seemed to be very little love displayed between others in this Christian society at all. Why so stiff? Why so worried about wearing the wrong dress, or touching another human, or giggling at the wrong joke, or swaying to the music? Misery seemed to be equal to godliness and I just didn’t get it.

We also sat and laughed about the incidents of our childhood when we got into trouble. He more than I – you know; the peacemaker versus the “Why can’t I?” I mentioned previously that we both grew up in households where discipline was expected. As I recall these conversations, the thing that really stands out to me is this. We thought differently then. It wasn’t that we didn’t understand evil or abuse when we saw it – I knew families that did things to the point of abuse and it was very different from the families where kids knew that when we chose to do wrong, we were choosing the consequences. These were not negative parts of our childhoods – these were facts of life and we learned many valuable lessons from this philosophy of parenting! Did I ever get spanked when I didn’t deserve it? Absolutely! Was that abuse? No, it was a human parent making a mistake while trying to do their best to raise decent human beings. Period.

The point? Philosophies of parenting come and go. The “experts” have taught and continue to teach differently from generation to generation and even from culture to culture. What never changes and what should always be our point of focus is on the heart, motives, goals and desires. There are selfish, self focused and self righteous parents in every generation. There are evil, self absorbed parents in every generation. Their methods of parenting vary – but their heart is what is abusive. There are also loving, giving, serving parents in every generation. They are good, others focused parents and their methods of parenting may vary. It is their heart that makes them not abusive though they make mistakes.

You and I make decisions about who we choose to do life with every day. I choose people who are good people at their core – people who love others, who walk into a room and make you feel like they are glad you are there, people who find ways to pour into the lives of others, people who can laugh with you and not at you, people who can lovingly encourage you in the right direction without criticizing, people who wrap their arms around you and make you feel wanted and safe, people who find joy in life, people who look around and see what needs to be done and do it… I could go on and on; but you get the idea. We should not define one another by the philosophies that come and go – we should define one another by the heart that we see day in and day out. According to Scripture, the heart is revealed by our actions, words, lifestyle. We live out what is in our hearts and a self absorbed heart will be abusive not only in parenting but in other relationships and aspects of life as well.

So, before we go on and talk about the defining moments of marriage in my life; I wanted to take this little rabbit trail and once again speak to this subject. As we go about our daily lives today, may we see the heart behind the words and behavior and may we focus on BEING the kind of Christians who love like Jesus!

Jonnie and I began our lives together in marriage after my sophomore year of college. This wasn’t the path (in the box) that all of the Christian girls around me were following; but it was my path.  My individual, God-approved path!  When the Bible speaks of our Heavenly Father knowing each of us individually, knowing the hairs on our head, and even being aware of us as we are formed in our mother’s womb, it never says that there is a mold that we are all to fit into.  I wonder how much joy and life many have missed out on because in our culture we have established “norms” for every aspect of life, time limits, dates, and goals.  (Seems I’ve never fit into the “normal” box.)  I remember the terror I felt when Jonnie told me that he was going to ask my dad for my hand in marriage after my freshman year!  My response:  “This isn’t what we are supposed to do!”  He laughed!  “Really?  There is a timetable that everyone follows alike?”    “Well, yeah.”  His response?   “We’re breaking the mold!”  Of course, he had no idea that the entirety of my life had been and would continue to be breaking the mold.

Boy, am I thankful that my dad understood and agreed!  We were vacationing on the lake when Jonnie and Dad went out in a canoe to talk.  I knew Jonnie’s plans and sat waiting;  trembling over the conversation that I knew was ahead!   I look back and see this as another defining moment in my life!  God was beginning to teach me what it meant to walk with Him, outside the box, throwing out the mold.  I was learning that much of the fear that I lived with was unnecessary and often I was worrying over  “what ifs” that never came about!  The Bible tells us not to borrow from tomorrow’s troubles.  Believe me:  today has enough for us to handle all on its own!    It was exciting to think of life without the rulebook, without a list that all of God’s people were to follow, and with utter abandon and dedication to His Word and a personal relationship.  

Jonnie and I were married on August 10, 1984 and we began our married life together in Greenville, SC where he worked and I continued on with my college education.  Our plans were to stay there until I finished school and then find a place where we could serve the Lord together.  Jonnie was interested in coaching, youth work, or anything that allowed him to use his athletic abilities, people skills, and energy to influence young people.  We had no idea what the specifics would look like but we were just loving being together and doing life one day at a time;  learning to be a couple, establishing our home, and opening it as often as possible to family and friends.   I found limitless joy in homemaking, learning to cook, decorate, hosting and creating an atmosphere of love.   I can tell you today without hesitation that I was created for and had dreamed my entire life of being loved by a husband who found rest and comfort in a home that I created and took care of – of having and raising children who loved and served God and others. It wasn’t that I had no ambition – my ambition was people focused: not financial or status focused. Just yesterday, I heard a lady say that the women of the 50s and 60s were oppressed and thought of as lesser than because so many were homemakers and mothers above all else. I disagree wholeheartedly. I believe there were some who were treated poorly by bad men (which is still true today) – but I found early on in my marriage to Jonnie that my value as a woman came from my husband’s opinion and treatment of me. His appreciation and love for what I provided in the home gave me great joy and value! His loving protection of me, consideration for my quirks and sensitivities assured me that who I was mattered. God had definitely created me for this role.

It was December of 1984  and our well-laid-out plans were upended when we suffered the loss of our first baby through miscarriage.  Someone once said, “A miscarriage is a natural and common event.  Many believe that more women have probably lost a child from this world than haven’t.  Most don’t mention it (especially if it happens early on in the pregnancy) and they go on from day to day as if it never happened.   People imagine that women in this situation never knew or loved what she had.  But ask her sometime how old her child would be now and she will tell you. If you ask me or even my other children today, we can all tell you what the name of my baby was.

When I repeatedly speak of defining moments, I am looking back over my life and recognizing moments when I had a clear choice.  The choice is given to me by the Almighty, Creator God.  An often misunderstood concept that many questions arise from is this:  We believe that God is sovereign.  We believe that God is all-powerful.  If both of these are true, why does God allow certain things to happen?  Why do bad things happen to good people?  (Of course, I am speaking of good people in terms of our worldly understanding!)  The truth that is both beautiful and freeing for the believer is this.  God created human life as perfect.  He created us with the ability to choose whether to love Him, fellowship with Him, and enjoy eternity with Him or not.  (What kind of relationship would it be if it were forced?)   If you are anything like me then you know the difference between a forced, “I love you!” and an “I love you,” coming from someone who is speaking from a sincere heart.  An example is this:  I always tell my children and grandchildren that I love them when we are parting ways or ending a phone conversation. When they are young and first learning to speak my grandchildren’s parents may instruct them to “Tell Grandmommy thank you” or “Tell Grandmommy that you love her!”  While that is all well and good, it is when one of these children comes to me on their own, wraps their arms around me, and tells me that they love me that I am most touched!  I feel the same about birthdays, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day, and any other designated time to “honor” someone.    If I in any way feel that someone is doing the “expected” thing;  it means very little.  Obligatory action doesn’t touch the heart.   My heart is warmed and encouraged when the love and expression of love obviously come from a sincere place.  Think about this!  This truth makes the beauty of love and relationships satisfying to the human soul in a way that we cannot even put into words!  

To know that Almighty God desires a true relationship with us is awe-inspiring!  He doesn’t desire robotic obedience or “love”.  He doesn’t desire obligatory worship and service.  He desires sincere hearts to love and worship Him.   What happened between God and His creation?    The first humans chose to go against what He instructed!  They listened to the voice of Satan tempting them with more:  a God-like knowledge!  Through this choice, sin entered into what had been a perfect world.  That sin is passed on to us.  God, in His justice, mercy, grace, and love made a way for you and me to choose differently!  Each one as an individual GETS to choose everlasting life and a life on earth focused on sharing the love of Christ with others.  It isn’t forced, it is a choice.  When I think of the term “pro-choice”  I think of a God who does give individual, personal choices in every single area of our life.    

Galatians 5:13  You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.

The introduction of sin into our world is the very reason that you and I face difficult things in life.  It is the very reason there is disease, there is pain, there is suffering and death.  Each one of us is surrounded by and living with the consequences of this.  BUT!  We each have a choice in how we respond, how we deal with the negative things that happen in our lives.  Our defining moments quite often are the results of those decisions.  My first defining moment of 1984 was when I chose to marry Jonnie and begin a life by his side.  The second was our miscarriage on December 5.  I grieved.  He silently held me for hours while I grieved. There were few words during the first couple of weeks following the miscarriage and my surgery that followed. There was physical pain, emotional pain and spiritual searching!  There were questions, there was guilt (did I cause this?) and there was concern for the future!  I couldn’t help but wonder if this indicated an inability to bear children.  

My choice was clear:  wallow, feel sorry for myself, get angry with God or seek to find rest and answers in Him.  Sometimes I look at these types of choices as “Am I a victim or do I choose to be victorious?”   I chose the latter.  I pulled my Bible out and just read, cried and prayed.  I purchased a book written by an author who had lost a baby and I allowed her experience and wisdom to point me to answers.  The greatest thing this book did for me was to validate my pain – to tell me that it was ok to feel such a depth of grief that no one wanted to discuss. As a young woman, I was beginning to see that God often uses the experiences of our lives to help others when they walk the same path.  I was just beginning to learn how to navigate this life in a way that drew me closer to my Heavenly Father and taught me more about Him on a daily basis.  

James 4:8     Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.

As painful and frightening as the loss of our baby on December 5 of 1984 was, the pregnancy and delivery of Joey in November of 1985 was one of those incredibly amazing Defining Moments of life!  I experienced symptoms of another miscarriage early on but I had learned so much about myself and my desire to be a mother during the weeks and months following our Dec 5 loss that I was willing to do whatever was necessary to save this baby.  I spent the first 3 months on bed rest and then enjoyed the rest of my pregnancy.  We were excited to bring this baby into the world in the most natural way and attended all of the “natural childbirth” classes – fully expecting to have a normal, uneventful delivery. Like many first time mommas we took a few trips to the hospital due to what appeared to be labor – only to be sent home – disappointed but sure that we just didn’t know what this was really supposed to look like! Our baby’s due date was set as October 30 and when we were into the second week of November and there was no baby… Well, I began to wonder. It was Thursday evening when I told Jonnie that I wasn’t feeling quite right but instead of going back to the hospital; I thought I’d just go to bed and try to sleep. When a few hours later I was throwing up violently, we headed straight to the hospital. Many hours later – on Saturday, my doctor became concerned about my life and the life of my baby and another doctor was called in for an emergency C-Section. We wouldn’t know why my body wasn’t cooperating for years to come; but for me, my first test of motherhood had been an epic failure! My mother-in-law would tell me later that when Jonnie called home to tell her about the birth of our son, he told her that he would be our only child. There was no way he was letting me go through that again! Joseph Edmond Wayne Thompson was placed into my arms and I was in that moment forever changed! (Defining Moment) Mountaintops and valleys, victories and defeats:   they make up our lives.  Learning to feel each deeply, learning to lean in and grab the hand of our Father through each one, seeking to learn through the process of each one:  this is life!  

Becoming responsible for the life of another human was an incredibly frightening concept for me. I was 21 years old, deeply in love with my husband, learning the ins and outs of homemaking and continuing to learn what this real walk with the Lord was all about!  My greatest fear was raising a child who didn’t want my Saviour, who didn’t want to live for Him.  I searched Scripture:  I focused on “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he won’t depart from it.”   I asked preachers and those I considered knowledgeable in godly living what this meant!  I remember a particular Sunday evening after church when Jonnie and I were visiting his parents in Virginia.   We sat around the table discussing this new responsibility and I looked at my father-in-law and asked him directly,  “So, the Scripture says to train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he won’t depart from it…  is this a promise?   If I devote my life to this, does this guarantee that my son will accept Christ and live for Him?”   I’ll never forget the look on my father-in-law’s face.   He had been a pastor for all of his adult life.  I’m not sure anyone had ever asked this question so directly.  He grinned at me and just stared.  All I could think that this meant was that he wasn’t sure.  I left that meal even more concerned that I was going to mess this most important job up!  

Yes, my questions continued to trouble me!  Does this mean that if I teach him Scripture, pray with him, read to him, sing to him, live for Christ before him and take him to church every Sunday that I am promised that he will accept Christ?   I can’t say that anyone ever gave me an answer.  I remember many sideways smiles and feeling like others thought I was truly making too much of this!  “Oh, she’s just a young, eager and anxious mom!” Maybe.  But I was developing a sense of what was important and what really doesn’t matter!  I loved the cute little baby clothes.  I considered feeding, clothing, and providing the material necessities for my child as important.  But I wasn’t consumed with them!  I was consumed with nurturing and pouring into his life a foundation of love and belonging.   I held my infant around the clock.  I read to him, sang to him, prayed over him, and loved every moment of it.  (This is a philosophy I never outgrew). 

In 1986, Jonnie again led me to a place of trusting God when we couldn’t see.  We moved to Va. where he desired to work in the youth camp that he had grown up in.  I was hesitant and frightened at first but told him that I was learning this ‘trusting the Lord one day at a time thing’ and if that was where he felt he needed to be, I was going to joyfully go and help him!  The work was hard for both of us and when I was asked to be the speaker to a group of ladies for the first time I had another Defining Moment.  I was told what passage I was to share from and I remember sitting down with my Bible opened to Psalm 23.  As I studied the Psalm and prepared an outline, I found myself frustrated with the whole deal!  Here again, I felt I was filling a role, doing what was expected and inside I wanted more, so much more!  I had taken speech classes in high school and college.  I knew how to “make a speech!”   Wasn’t this supposed to be so much more than giving a good speech?  Shouldn’t I be talking to these ladies about what I know and am experiencing with my God?  I was not comfortable just giving them an intellectual understanding of a Psalm.    I begged God to take me to a place of walking with Him in a real way, a way that had little to do with outward appearance and everything to do with knowing Him in a way that changed how I thought, how I lived, how I dealt with others! 

Philippians 3:10  That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering;  being made conformable to His death.  

It was the fall of 1986.  Joey was almost a year old and Jonnie and I were learning the ropes of caring for a camp facility, hosting retreats,  traveling to churches to present the ministry, lining up speakers for events, and planning the upcoming summer season.  We had just finished a fall retreat when I mentioned to Jonnie that I wasn’t feeling well and was going to make an appointment with a doctor.  Being a strictly nursing mom for the first year of the baby’s life I had no idea that there was a possibility of pregnancy.  While we were shocked and terrified to learn that we were expecting, we were also overjoyed!  My duties to this point had included mowing acres on a large tractor, cleaning of cabins (including replacing mattresses and scrubbing bathhouses) and other types of labor that Jonnie immediately put an end to!  I would still daily strap Joey to my back and hike to the main facilities where I would help with paperwork, kitchen work or just be in the vicinity of where Jonnie was working.  We enjoyed doing life together.  In January of that year, we were planning for Spring.  The plan was to choose a group of teen boys to come to camp, work alongside Jonnie with maintenance, cleanup and odd jobs that needed to be done.  As Jonnie and I talked about my responsibilities,  I learned that I would be cooking for them on weekends, handling their laundry on a regular basis and I would host a weekly closing banquet for the campers.  I was fearful of the added household responsibilities I would have with the 2 babies and I expressed those fears.  Jonnie sat across the table from me and reminded me that it wasn’t about whether or not they enjoyed my cooking and it wasn’t really about their laundry.  It was about serving them as a means to point them to what walking with Jesus looks like.  The purpose was eternal…  Defining Moment.

As I wrapped my head around what the next months were going to look like I began to pray for an early delivery of this baby.  We did not yet know his gender.  His due date was June 4.  This would put us right smack in the heat of preparations and beginning camps.  Joey had come very late, so I knew the probability of an early delivery wasn’t great!   It was May 22 and Jonnie was frantically trying to prepare the camp facilities before the summer season.  I decided that while he was across the field I would push mow the yard at our house.  Maybe this would trigger something.  I strapped Joey to my back and began to mow.  After a few minutes I decided this was a bit too difficult and I set him up with some toys and continued to mow.   It was around noon when we went inside, I put Joey down for a nap and sat down to rest.  I began to feel extremely sick and knew I needed to get Jonnie.  No, there were no cell phones.  He was out in a field somewhere!  I opened the back window of the house and began to yell across the acres!  I honestly don’t remember how I finally reached him but at some point he came and we headed to Charlottesville.  As Jonnie drove down 29 to the hospital at UVA, I remember looking at Joey in the carseat and wondering how in the world I could love another child as much as I loved this boy. I was frightened – I couldn’t wrap my mind around how this would work! After about 5 hours of labor the doctors decided this baby wasn’t coming naturally and our second son was born via C Section.  We would later learn that I had Rheumatoid Arthritis and my inability to deliver naturally was due to what this had done to my pelvic area.   The defining moment that came with the birth of Joshua Stephen Thompson was this: the heart of a mother thinks it is full with her love for her child – and with the birth of another: well, the love just grows! It isn’t something that gets used up, or that runs out… it just keeps growing.

Home life with 2 baby boys, a camp to run, a group of teen boys to supervise and care for was tough. My 23 year old self was overwhelmed and desperately seeking meaning beyond the daily tasks.  I now had 2 humans that I was responsible for!  Two eternal destinies that I felt depended on how I mothered them.  This pushed me further into study, further into prayer and further into begging God to teach me, show me the way and make Himself very real to me!  In the middle of all of this, I attended a Ladies’ Retreat in Greenville where a young widow spoke of her loss and her message was this:  Always, always, always leave one another with a loving goodbye; and always, always, always greet one another with a happy hello!  I have never forgotten this advice.  In fact, just hearing her speak of losing her husband made me physically sick and her message found a home deep within my heart. I could not even allow myself to consider what I would do if anything ever happened to my Jonnie. It was just something that was unimaginable! Her message however; was something that I clung to.   If you see me today when one of my children arrives in the driveway, you will see me on the back porch to greet them, or at the very least trying to get there!  If they come to see me at work or if I see them at church:  guess what?  They will be greeted with a hug!  A happy hello!  You will hear us end phone conversations more often than not with,  “I love you!”  Even if there is something on my mind, a tidbit that needs to be discussed, I want each greeting to be happy, loving, positive!  There is a reason behind these habits!  Yes, there are discussions, disagreements, debates, arguments that have to take place between loved ones but they must NEVER overshadow the words of love and the knowledge that I want them to know that every single time I see them, my heart is filled with joy!  

“Loving Goodbyes and Happy Hellos!”

That is the background.  That is the history.  Now to the rest of the story. 

 It was 1987 and it was while walking through one of life’s major Defining Moments that I learned something about God’s presence that I have taken with me through every day of my life since.  I was that young wife and mother of our 2 baby boys.  Joey was 20 months old and Josh;  2 months.  My husband, Jonnie and I were living the camp life with our little family.  It was the summer camp season and we were working hard but loving our time together and dreaming about our future. We were also involved in a church plant in the area where I was the pianist and he was on the board. The busy-ness of camp life had kept us in the midst of others; even when together we were surrounded by people.  I had suffered a bout with hemorrhaging after taking a hike with Jonnie and the campers and was put on strict orders to take it easy.  This had also limited our time together for a few weeks!  That motto for loving goodbyes and happy hellos was often used:  Jonnie came and went from the house to the dining hall and back:  running in the house for the happy hellos and then quickly running back to his work with our loving goodbyes.  Once I had recovered well enough, I made the trek from the house to the camp building several times a day with babies in tow just to be by his side – to eat meals with him, attend the services and to host the weekly banquets for the campers.

It was after our last full week of camp that Jonnie was asked to speak at an event on a Saturday evening.  The original plan had been for the boys and me to attend with him.  However, I had discovered on Friday evening during our closing banquet that both babies were sick.  They were overly fussy and it seemed wise to get them home and focus on their needs.  I was driven back to our home on the property to care for them and within moments Jonnie had sent one of the teens to the house to check on me.  Obviously, this sickness meant that I would not be able to attend the event with him on Saturday evening.   I was horribly disappointed to be left behind but the time went by quickly as I focused on the needs of two babies battling strep.   I was on the floor in our den with both boys when I heard Jonnie drive up our drive and come bounding in the house saying,  “I left right after I finished speaking so that I could spend the evening with you!”  He helped me get the babies to bed and we had our much-needed in-home date night!   I would realize how much this meant just 2 days later! 

On Sunday morning we would receive a call from my father that my grandfather was gravely ill.  My dad asked that I come for a few days. Jonnie drove the boys and me to my grandparents’ home and on the way, our 20-month-old, Joey, recited for his daddy the Scriptures I had been teaching him.  I will always remember Jonnie turning to me and thanking me for what I was doing at home while he was so busy with camp business!  He dropped us at my grandparents’ home, unloaded the vehicle and we stood waving. As he got into our vehicle before driving away, he winked at me, told me he loved me, and was gone.  I watched him drive away:  sad that he couldn’t stay with us but knowing he would return for me in a couple of days!

 Jonnie wouldn’t return for me in a couple of days.  On Monday night around 8 pm, my life was turned upside down when I received a phone call from a stranger telling me that there had been “an accident.”  My 25-year-old husband had instantly gone to be with the Lord when he lost control of our Toyota Forerunner on the gravel drive of our camp and home.  36+ years later, I can still physically feel the utter hopelessness and helplessness that came over me after receiving that call.  I remember lying down on the couch and trying to make my mind understand what was happening.  I would sit up, pick up one of the boys and rock him, and lie back down intermittently for several hours while I waited for the family to plan how to get me home.  As I sat in shock and disbelief on that couch I could hear my mother making phone calls to my siblings and with each call her words were,  “There’s been a tragedy.  Jonnie’s been killed.”  Reality.  Hard, cold reality.  I could not escape it.  I simply had to face it.  

It is in moments like these that what we have hidden in our hearts before comes to the surface.  I remember silently praying the words of a song that I had known and sung many times before.  The words took on a whole new meaning in the matter of a moment:

“With my whole heart I humbly seek You,  now use my life, oh Lord I pray.  I yield my stubborn will completely, may your commandments light my way.  

My life, LORD,  is yours to control.  I give you my heart and my soul.  I‘ll seek your will never mine, rich treasure to find.  Give wisdom to choices I make, along every path that I take so when I complete life’s race, ‘Well done!’ You will say!”   

Your Word has promised me the victory and all I need to do is claim your strength to soar with wings as eagles, to walk, to run and not to faint. 

My life Lord is yours to control I give you my heart and my soul.  I’ll seek your will, never mine, rich treasure to find.  Give wisdom to choices I make along every path that I take so when I complete life’s race, ‘Well Done,’ You will say.”  

I knew that this had to be my constant prayer, constant mindset if I was going to get off that couch and face the life ahead of me.  I remember distinctly talking to my Father and saying, “You’ve let this happen to the wrong girl! I don’t do anything alone. I don’t put gas in my car!” It wasn’t that I couldn’t so much as I was very well taken care of by a husband who cherished me. As I sat and looked at my babies I was overwhelmed with not only grief but a terrifying understanding that my life had just become something more difficult than I could ever have dreamed.  

I wish I could tell you that the feeling in the pit of my stomach went away, that I don’t grieve Jonnie’s death anymore, that life goes on as if…  but that just isn’t so.  The pain is real.  The recurring nightmares are real.  The tears still come.  I still miss this man that I loved so much and had planned to spend the rest of my life with.  That is real. It isn’t something that you “get over.”  It is something that is a part of your very being.   But what is also real, that also becomes a part of your being (as a child of God) is God’s never-ending presence.  

While I literally couldn’t speak the night of July 27, 1987, I was doing a lot of communicating with my God in the innermost parts of my being.  I remember distinctly desperately crying out to Him for help.  How was I going to get off of this couch?  This was a very real question.  How was I going to raise these two precious babies without their father?  What was going to happen to us? My husband was gone and with him every dream that we had for our future, our home, our vehicle, our physical security, our ministry, our church family, any income.  Again, I rehearsed the song I had known before that now had new meaning.  When my mind couldn’t think clearly enough to form my own thoughts, the song formed them for me.  “My life Lord is Yours to control…”  

I distinctly remember the drive home. I sat in the back of my parent’s vehicle with one baby on my lap and the other beside me in his infant seat. I silently rocked my son and stared out the windows for the entire drive. When was I going to wake up from this nightmare? What was waiting for me around the next curve? As we got near to the camp and our home I began searching the dark night for answers. What had happened to my Jonnie? Would I see anything that gave me any answers? All I saw was the familiar dark roads and silence.

When I finally arrived at our home in the wee hours of the morning, it was to a house full of grieving family and friends.  I walked in, sat on the couch, and for the first time that I remember, I spoke. Joey had started looking around for his daddy. He walked through the house searching and then approached me,  “Mommy, where is Daddy?”  With a breaking heart, I picked him up and set him on my lap and spoke for the first time. In that moment I realized that regardless of how lost I felt; there were two babies who needed me to pull it together – to be okay – to take care of them! I told him that Daddy was in heaven. Reality.  Cold, hard reality.   Feeling the stares of the people sitting around our den;  I retreated to my bedroom, nursed Josh and put him in his basket, and laid down on the bed with Joey in my arms. I knew he was old enough to know that his daddy was not home, but not able to grasp what was happening. After he had drifted off to sleep, I picked up Jonnie’s’ Bible from the bedside table and retreated to the bathroom floor with the door locked.  Thus began my “War Room” journey.  (My bathroom has been my “war room” ever since that night in 1987 – before any of us had ever seen the movie with this title!)  

It was there on the bathroom floor that I sat for a very long time (probably hours)  whispering my questions and experiencing the presence of God like I had never known it before.  There are those who say that anyone who needs to believe in an Almighty God is weak.   Call me weak.  I cannot imagine walking this road without Him.  What I had not understood as a younger believer was that it is the relationship with an Almighty God as a Heavenly Father and obedience to His Word that transforms our lives. It is the constant renewing of our minds to think as He thinks that transforms us.   It is the making choices daily based on His Word that transforms us.  

 It isn’t about a list of religious codes.  It is about the relationship that God has made available for us through the blood of His Son, Jesus.  It is about walking in fellowship and obedience while the Holy Spirit comforts us, convicts us, and guides us through Scripture.   Does the thought of the Holy Spirit frighten you? It shouldn’t.  Scripture was written by men who were inspired by the Holy Spirit.  When I am reading Scripture it is the same Holy Spirit within me that leads my thoughts, that clarifies my understanding and that comforts my heart with the words!  John 14:17  “He is The Holy Spirit, Who leads into all truth. The world cannot receive Him, because it isn’t looking for Him and doesn’t recognize Him. But you know Him because He lives with you now and later will be in you.”  

Romans 8:26  “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.”

As I share the specifics of the early morning hours of July 28, 1987; I want to speak to my state of heart and mind at this time, my desperation for a Heavenly Father Who saw me, heard me, cared and answered the groanings of my heart. What I experienced in those hours was the reality of that Heavenly Father. The same Holy Spirit Who directed the writing of Scripture years ago abides within the believer and directs us to and reveals the truths to us!

I remember so well and so clearly sitting on the floor of our tiny bathroom with my back literally up against the toilet and my feet pulled up closely in front of me. I held Jonnie’s Bible in my hands and I buried my face between my knees. I don’t remember tears – and would learn later that this is part of the shock I was dealing with. My heart felt that it had been broken, my mind was flooded with so many questions, so many fears, so many doubts and the overwhelming feeling of being completely alone! As I sat there (probably for hours) I just began opening Jonnie’s Bible and letting the pages fall where they may – I didn’t have the ability to think about where I should be looking. The reality of one by one the many things running through my mind being answered by specific verses: many of which had been highlighted previously by Jonnie; is a reality that not only made it possible for me to survive the worst night of my life, but also a reality that strengthened my faith in ways that cannot be explained. I hope that in my sharing your faith and determination to find your answers in God’s Word and His Truths will be bolstered as well.

The first thought that was raging through my heart and mind was, “I should have been with him! I missed his last moments. I cannot accept that I will never see him or speak with him again! I didn’t even get to say goodbye or tell him one last time that I love him! I let the pages of his Bible fall open and the very first passage that my eyes fell on were highlighted. I Thessalonians 4:13-18 “But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words.” Can you even imagine what these words sounded like to me in those moments? With chills running through me, I sat and pondered the fact that my greatest struggle in that moments had been answered very directly through the reading of Scripture.

Following these moments I began to have another thought that took center stage in my mind. I began to consider what those last moments for Jonnie must have been like; feeling guilty that I wasn’t there with him, wondering what death really is like for a believer; for my Jonnie! Is he ok? Yes, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really ok! As I flipped the pages of his Bible my eyes landed on another highlighted passage. 2 Timothy 4: 6-8 “For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.” I was struggling to understand what was happening – but I was finding comfort in how these highlighted verses were answering my thoughts one by one. As I read these verses and looked at Jonnie’s hand-written notes surrounding them I remembered sitting in the back of the camp service just a few weeks prior listening to him speak to the teens on this subject. His greatest desire was to one day stand before the Lord and hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” We talked often about what that meant and he often wondered if he was serving faithfully enough or if he was failing in some way. As I sat on that bathroom floor I knew beyond any doubt that the Lord had found him faithful to his last moment. He was serving, loving and caring for others up to the moment of his death. As a young 25 year old; he was just learning what that looked like, but his heart was willing and ready and I knew God was pleased. I felt a sense of relief as I realized this concern had been clearly answered through the power of God’s Word and the same Holy Spirit Who had directed the writing was directing me very clearly to the Scripture that I needed to hear in this most desperate moment of my life.

The next pile of jumbled thoughts that were filling my head were about me and my little boys – what in the world was going to happen to us? I was filled with overwhelming fear and the reality that I was not capable of handling what was ahead for me. I didn’t really know what I was going to do in the next moment so I just flipped the pages of Jonnie’s Bible and there boldly highlighted on the page before me was 2 Timothy 1:7  “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” At this point, a small laugh came from my lips as I looked up and simply said, “Thank you!” I knew in that moment that I had no excuse for ‘losing it’ or not getting up and taking care of whatever was ahead. God had shown me in His Word that I had everything I needed to move forward without fear – He was providing the power and the love and the sound mind!

I honestly don’t know how long I stayed in that position on that floor flipping through the pages of Jonnie’s Bible and clinging to the words I read there to calm my spirit and answer the many questions and emotions running like a freight train through me. I would be told months later that others noticed that I clung to that Bible like it was my life-source through viewings, visitations, the memorial service and more. I’m sure that I did. It was life giving and hope giving in the most real sense of the words ‘life-giving!” God has given us His Word and His Holy Spirit as our guide and our comforter in our day to day and in our most traumatic experiences of life. I challenge you to turn to it – my bathroom floor experience didn’t end on July 28, 1987. The memory and lessons learned that night were the just the beginning of a lifelong quest to find my answers and comfort in Him alone. When I fail to turn to Him first (which I do often) He very quickly reminds me of His faithfulness and I find myself prostrate before Him and His Word again.

As I look back on the moments of reading these verses that morning, I am reminded that I realized right there that I had a choice to make.  I could choose to be a victim of my circumstances or I could choose to walk in the promises of God and live victoriously!   Today, I could go on for pages sharing the events of that night, but I am going to simply state that I held that Bible in my arms for the next week as we went through visitations and the services, as the cold, hard realities sunk deeper into my being.  When my heart failed and the questions arose, I was able to open the Scripture and find comfort, strength, and courage to keep moving.  While false teaching has become rampant and men claiming supernatural revelation for you and me is not at all from the Lord;  the Holy Spirit that resides in believers works in our hearts and lives in ways that we cannot comprehend or understand.  I personally believe that Jonnie was quietly led by the Holy Spirit to highlight Scripture in his Bible when he was here and in my most desperate moments that same Holy Spirit led me to and used those verses to bring comfort, understanding, and direction in my life.  It is the Word of God (written by men who were inspired by yet again, that same Holy Spirit) that contains everything that you and I need to live a life of godliness.  May I never become so intellectual in my pursuit of theology and doctrine that I forget that one of the reasons Jesus told His disciples that the Holy Spirit had come was to be a helper, to teach all things and bring all things to remembrance! And, in my everyday life and struggles, may I remember to never limit God!  He is Almighty, All powerful, All knowing … and yet, He is compassionate, loving and near to the broken hearted. 

Beginning July 27, 1987 my personal journey of walking hunkered down under the shadow of the Almighty took on a new “realness”.   

God’s part:  He became all that I needed.  

  My part:  I acknowledged my weakness.

God’s part:  He became my defender and a father to my children. Psalm 68:5 says, “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” 

  My part:  Trust His heart.  

God’s part:  He is always faithful.  

  My part:  Daily humble myself and acknowledge my need for him.   

God’s part: He is my provider.

  My part: Recognize Him as such and cast all my needs on Him.

The fact is that if I could sit in my bathroom floor with Bible in hand and remind myself of Who God is, all of His promises and rest in Him for the rest of my life: that would have been easy. But you and I know that we sit at His feet to renew our hearts and minds and then we have to face the realities of our lives. 

Grappling with the realities of my new life was a daily exercise for the next six months: and beyond.  Widowhood at 23 was shocking.  Single parenthood to 2 small boys was life-altering and overwhelming.  As my heart and mind tried to absorb what each of these things meant on a moment-by-moment basis, voices around me were begging for my attention.  Pressure to make decisions was pressing in.  We lived in a home provided by the camp.  The reality of this fact meant that I had also lost my home.  Jonnie was killed in our personal vehicle.  The reality of this fact meant that I had lost my vehicle.  We were young.  We were in love.  We were barely getting by financially (as is often the case for young couples and even more true for those involved in full-time ministry).   In our case, one of our responsibilities was traveling from church to church to raise our income!   In a split second, all of that was gone.  Life Insurance?   We knew that such a thing existed.  In fact, Jonnie had forced me to talk about this very thing in January of 1987.   The memory of sitting at our kitchen table for this discussion is very clear.  I, being the glass half full person that I am, didn’t like to discuss the possibility of life without him.  He, however; was insistent that he had to know we would be taken care of if something happened to him.  He had some unusual physical things going on and the burden of taking care of his family was strong.  After presenting the need to the camp board, it was agreed and a life insurance policy was set to take effect on August 1.   Jonnie was taken from us on July 27.  This time frame was not lost on me.  At first, my mind thought,  “How can this be?”   But then the realization hit me: “God, your Heavenly Father. is not surprised.  He wants to show you that He WILL take care of you!”   Those other voices surrounding me, however; needed me to pack up my babies and belongings and move so that the next director could move in.  

It seemed that no one could understand that my entire life had just been upended.  I no longer woke up beside my husband;  whom I had intended to be with for the remainder of my life!  I no longer had my best friend to do daily life with.   I faced the reality of day in and day out with an infant and a toddler alone:  days that were supposed to be filled with joyful moments, shared by Jonnie and myself.  I walked around the house trying to put one foot in front of the other when my entire being was so overwhelmed with grief that I really wanted to curl up alone somewhere and cry.  The fact was that no one else was in my shoes.  Jonnie’s death affected many:  his parents and siblings and nieces and nephews all loved him dearly.  My parents and siblings loved him dearly. They were each one dealing with their own loss.  I would never minimize their love or loss.   I will point out, however;  all of these years later, that with the loss of my husband and the father of my children; I was also facing the loss of our home, our ministry, our livelihood, our church (where Jonnie served and I was the pianist) our vehicle:   Every single aspect of my life was altered. While each of them grieved deeply, they did so in the arms of their spouses and loved ones.  I did so alone.  

It was during this period of my life that I began to learn the true value of walking daily with my Heavenly Father – sitting at His feet and then getting up and walking with Him. I was learning to discern the outside voices, ignore words that brought nothing but pain and uncertainty, and most of all to run to my private place and stay in a perpetual state of prayer!   Literally.   One of my most vivid memories of that time period is sitting in the middle of the living room floor; surrounded by piles of mail. Both babies were sleeping and found myself going between reading and lying face down beating the floor with my arms and sobbing. Those were very real moments of crying out to God, ”Is this really happening?” 

I read hundreds of cards sent my way.  Some I cried through as they assured me that there were people loving and praying for us.  Some I threw across the room as they were filled with advice that I wasn’t ready to hear.  Some brought smiles as they told me what they loved about my dear Jonnie and how they knew that he would be proud of how I was taking care of his boys.  All were used in the very difficult moments of life to chip away at the shock and open up the trickles of grief – as I could bear to face it.   The lonely, dark nights were filled with reading these messages, reading Jonnie’s Bible, and praying.  The days were filled with caring for my babies, trying to take care of the preparations and needs for an upcoming Ladies’ Retreat that I was responsible for,  attending a conference, and representing the camp (something that was on the calendar for Jonnie and me to do but now fell on me.)   Always in the back of my mind during these 6 months was the fact that I had to make decisions about our future.  And of course, there were many legal details to handle – all while trying to hold on.  Everyone wanted something from me:  Jonnie’s belongings for memories (I wanted to hold on to Jonnie’s belongings for his sons) and it seemed everyone was in such a rush to get what they wanted, do what they wanted – and in some minds, it felt like I was the latest girlfriend:  not the one he had chosen to do life with:  his wife, the mother of his sons.   And yes.  There were even men who thought my greatest need was a husband!   There was one particular man who began calling after I attended the conference presenting the camp ministry.  I told him I wasn’t interested.  It angered me.  It made me feel sick.   I had no desire to even think about another man.  My entire being longed for reunion with Jonnie.  Just think about how I felt when this man arrived on the camp property, at my back door and walked into my home!  I was a grieving widow, in the home that Jonnie and I shared and this guy came in to tell me that the Lord told him that he was supposed to marry me and take care of me and my babies!   Oh, he didn’t stop there!   He then contacted my father-in-law and asked him to convince me that this was right.   In other words;   I was supposed to believe that God had told him to marry me and I was to comply!  

The pressures came from all directions and in many areas. Looking back, I have flashes of memories, moments of the more traumatic or ‘hard’ realities, and a few solid memories of love in action. I remember a snowstorm that left the babies and I stranded inside the cold house without food – building a fire and cuddling up in the living room and hearing a knock on the door. A local man had trudged through the snow and brought us groceries. I remember sitting on the front porch looking up at the vast sky and the darkness – the only light coming from the stars – and asking God how He could see and care about this little daughter of His and her babies. (in light of the millions of people He loves and cares for) I remember dear friends bringing their sons and coming over to play games with me on a Friday night while the boys all played in the floor – a sweet time but a stark reminder that a huge part of what had been our friendship was now gone. I remember a nephew knocking on the door and walking in wearing some of Jonnie’s clothes and my heart feeling like it had been ripped out of my chest (knowing someone had come in and gone through our belongings). I remember riding the camp tractor with babies in tow – mowing and cleaning so that the ministry could go on.  I remember a doctor’s appointment where the doctor told me he believed I had actually been pregnant when Jonnie passed away and it appeared I had miscarried. (Yes, Josh was only 8 weeks old.) I remember lying awake night after night and praying – asking God for some sort of ‘sign’ that He saw me; literally asking to see one star in the vast dark sky – looking back out the window and seeing one star and claiming that as my answer from God. I cannot describe those months any better than to use the words ‘utter desperation’. The strength to put one foot in front of the other each day came from the time spent with open Bible in hand and crying out. 

The truth is that you and I should face every day of our lives with open Bible and crying out – He is our source of strength on our darkest days and He is our source of strength on those days when we are fooled into thinking, “I’ve got this!” 

After 6 months of staying on the camp property, I made the decision to move back to my hometown of Charlotte, NC.   One of the major reasons for this decision was to be near my father:  I wanted my boys to have the protection, influence, love, and input of my dad.  You know, I was teaching them that God is their Father, but the desire for them to have someone with skin on was strong!  Of course, my mom would be the Grandmother influence in their lives, but it was the male role model that they were missing.   Stubborn and determined to not put the burden of my family onto anyone else, I fought for my own home and with the help of my father found a small house about 15 minutes from my childhood home and parents.  My loving Pastor (Jack Hudson) shared my story with my Charlotte church family (my church home previous to marriage) and they took up an offering that gave me the down payment for my little house.  These people would be such an incredible lifeline for me in the coming years!   My brother,  Mike, shared my story with his church family (Jonnie and I had been there presenting the camp a few months earlier) and they purchased me a car and insured it for the first year.  My father-in-law reached out and built an education fund for our boys and it was set aside to be used when Joey and Josh needed education funding.  As I saw God provide through loving people for these initial needs I was gradually learning to trust Him to provide for the daily needs and knew He would walk us through whatever we faced ahead.  I wish I could tell you that I was confident and felt secure and went to bed every night with a smile on my face, a song in my heart and anticipation of what God was going to do next.  The hard reality is that I was grief-stricken, my heart ached constantly, I went from sobbing uncontrollably on the floor to walking through my daily tasks like a zombie.  There were 2 things that kept me moving forward each day:  My sons and their need for a mom that loved them and cared for them, and the constant talking to my Heavenly Father Who simply had to be real!  

It was Friday, December 18, when I had cleaned our belongings out of our camp home, loaded a moving truck and began the journey to Charlotte.  My father had come to help me but spent the day sick on my couch while we worked around him.  I had never known my father to be ill, had never known him to lie on the couch while others worked around him, and I was very concerned!  We made the trip to Charlotte and after midnight pulled into my parent’s driveway.  By this time I was so concerned about my dad that I urged my mom to take him straight to the ER.   She left with Dad and I put the boys to bed and sat in my parents’ den waiting and praying.  It was a long night.  

Saturday morning was rainy and dreary:  I thought it was appropriate for how my heart was feeling.    Having left behind the home that Jonnie and I shared, the ministry, the church, the friends, the dreams:  I was setting up a home for myself and our two precious babies.  Alone.

Today,  years later, as I share this with you the tears are streaming down my face.  I cannot put into words the overwhelming amount of emotion that I felt.  One of Jonnie’s friends from college, Kerry St.John,  was local to Charlotte and came to help with the unloading of the truck.  Having him and my brother, Tom,  there to help with the heavy lifting was an incredible blessing.  It was around supper time when my mother came to my new little house and asked to speak to my brother and me.  It was there that she would tell us that our father was terminally ill – and he may not even live through Christmas!  

Stunned at this new revelation I was speechless.  Shock again took over.  I could not comprehend what God was allowing!   After making sure that my brother would watch my boys. I climbed into my little car and started driving.  I didn’t know where I was going.  I couldn’t form thoughts much less prayers!   Around the corner from my house was a small strip mall with a grocery store.  I parked, and began walking through the store.  It was there that I experienced another Defining Moment.   As a general rule, I like to smile and speak to people when I see them.  That night, as I looked at people I couldn’t muster up the energy to smile, much less speak!  I was afraid if I opened my mouth I would just break down weeping.  I forced myself to look at people though:  in the eyes.  It was in this process that the Holy Spirit spoke gently to my soul.  “Joy, they don’t have a clue what you are going through.  You also don’t have a clue what THEY are going through!”   “Remember this!   From here on out;   get your mind off of yourself, your problems, your pain, your burdens.  You are walking past people who are carrying their own stuff.  You are here to love them.  You are here to focus on the needs of others and point them to me.  Set yourself aside and get busy!”  

When I returned to my little house, my mind was still swirling but I knew that I had to find out who I was here for and what I could do.  Of course, the most obvious was still my boys.  I set out to make this little house a home and to get it decorated for Christmas as quickly as I possibly could.  That was the least I could do for them.  Secondly, my mom and my dad!  The reality was that my mother was soon going to be widowed herself.  I was walking a path that she would soon be walking.  But for now, my father was very ill, was still with us and needed us!  

 Defining moments change us from the inside out.  As I am sharing with you, I’ve had several.  I can point to them. I can feel the emotions and the physical responses that I had at that time! I KNOW I’ve been changed and I don’t want to ever go back to who I was before because, in the midst of life’s most difficult times, I am now certain of Who my God is:  and as His daughter, I can rest in that!  1987 was filled with these moments.  As I look back, I know that my Heavenly Father was carrying me through each of these moments:  otherwise, there would be no surviving them.  The sudden death of my Jonnie forever changed me. My relationship with my God became so REAL, and something that I couldn’t even think about functioning without! The reality of eternal life became just that – reality… The sudden responsibility of all the details of life for myself and my two sons hit me like a semi and I was required to just step up and do it.  Another Defining Moment of 1987 came just a few months later when I learned of my father’s terminal illness.  Honestly, there is no way to number each Defining Moment of our lives. Most of us can look back at them, however, and see how they have changed us, and realize that with each one we have choices.  What will I do with this?  Will I allow it to grow me or destroy me?  

Due to these internal changes, no longer is “organized religion and Christian fellowship” enough for me. No longer is a list of rules to adhere to good enough for me. No longer is the idea of Christian principles that make me more pleasing in the eyes of God good enough for me. No longer is a comfortable church with comfortable pews filled with people who are just alike good enough for me. No longer is living my Christian life within my little circle good enough for me. No longer is quoting Scripture without a clear understanding and forcing myself to “believe it” good enough for me. No longer is intellectual Christianity good enough for me. No longer do I care where you disagree with me on minor doctrinal or even preference issues. Jesus Christ the Son of God died because you and I are sinners in need of a Savior – a Bridge to God so to speak. God the Father with His Son created me. He created me for the purpose of having a relationship with Him. He saved me for the purpose of loving others to Him while walking in a relationship with Him.  I trust Him. I obey Him. I’ve been changed. Yes, I’ve been changed. 

Join me on my porch in Virginia a few weeks after Jonnie’s death.  (Yes, I am taking you back a few months and we are on the camp property trying to absorb reality) 

*I have put the babies to bed and I’m gazing at the stars trying to figure out exactly where Heaven is located.  (It’s interesting what we think about when faced with the realities of life)  As I search the heavens and watch the stars I realize how amazingly huge the galaxies beyond Earth are. I start to think about all of space, the planets, all of creation, and then I focus on just Earth.  I imagine looking down at Earth from the heavens, from wherever THE heaven that we read about and believe to exist is.  I’m overwhelmed with the understanding of all that God created and I’m struck with how tiny and insignificant I am in relation to all of it.   At first, I’m overcome with new grief when I think about Jonnie in heaven.  I don’t understand all of the theology concerning life after death but I know he is gone and surely has not given a thought to me or our boys.  Then I think about Hebrews and the great cloud of witnesses and I think; “Well, maybe!” (But I digress)   I am reminded of what I know about my God because of the promises in His Word and because of His presence with me.  I rehearse the specific cries and answers to prayer that I have experienced and I realize that yes, I am just a tiny part of this vast creation but He loves me. His word tells me that He puts my tears in a bottle,  hears my every cry and He provides for me.   God owes me nothing but He loves me.  He has a purpose for me and my job is to love Him and to love others.  If I do that He will use me. I guess the lesson in this visit to my porch is just that with a new vision I can see life differently.  Time doesn’t matter.  My daily trials and tribulations don’t matter.  Eternity matters and what my little life brings to other souls matters.

     During this period of my life I took on a new motto and have carried it with me to this day.  “Is this going to matter in eternity?”  While it has been something my children have liked to teasingly remind me of when I mention that a floor needs cleaning or other necessary tasks need to be done, it is a motto that will transform an attitude in the heat of a difficult moment.  I can share some very personal examples.  One of my sons was like many boys when he was very young.  His ADHD was exacerbated by his severe food allergies.  Some of his behaviors had no rhyme or reason.  He wasn’t rude or disrespectful or ugly in his behavior.  He just did things that no one else would think of doing.  One night I was preparing for a speaking engagement.  He and his older brother were playing quietly while waiting for me.  (Or so I thought)    When I came out of the bedroom I found all 40+ framed photographs from my living room wall lined up down the hallway.  Another night he did the same with every necklace I owned.  It was going to be a task to get everything positioned just right back on the walls but I had one thought:  “Is this going to matter in eternity?”  And I had one answer:  “Absolutely not!  But my response to this crazy kid is!”   I want my kids to want my God!  I want my kids to look at my reaction to things in life that are frustrating and know that my love for them surpasses any frustration or inconvenience!  I want them to want my God!   How about the night he spilled a pitcher of red Kool Aid on my white carpet?  No, this was NOT going to matter in eternity but my response to him would!  

Along with this perspective came a new approach to my own grief and needs.  The God that I was so afraid of making angry with my piddly mistakes growing up was now truly my lifeline!  My heart hurt and there were things that others may have considered silly that I began to go to my Heavenly Father for.  One example is my need to be reminded that God was hearing my prayers, my need to know that Jonnie truly was ok: just comfort for my heart to be honest.  One late night I was in my bath and the tears were flowing!  I was missing Jonnie terribly and really wanted to talk to him.  I wanted to hear from him.  Now, before you go nuts on me;  I am very aware that I cannot talk to someone who has died.  I am very aware that he cannot communicate with me.  What I did and do believe, however, is that my Heavenly Father hears me, is aware of my needs as well as what life after death looks like for the believer.  So, I communicated my thoughts to my Father.  I told him that I needed Jonnie to know that I missed him terribly and that I was doing my best to take care of his boys.  The next morning  I awoke so overwhelmed with grief that I knew I had to get myself under control in order to just do the day.  I had 2 little boys that needed my care.  My sister had invited me to visit her and as I dressed the boys and started on my journey, my prayer was simple.  “Lord, please remind me today that Jonnie is ok and that you are coming for us all soon!”  Does it sound like a desperate heart need?  It was!  What transpired during that day will never be forgotten and I will continue to share as long as people will hear me.  I was one stoplight from my sister’s apartment when a truck came over in the lane in front of me.  After I slammed on the brakes so that I wouldn’t hit him, I saw a piece of simple 8.5  x 11 paper taped to his back window.  On it he had typed the words,  “Jesus is coming soon.  Are you ready?”   Do you think I doubted for a second that my Father had heard my prayer for a reminder?   It didn’t end there!  As soon as we walked into my sister’s living room she handed me a beautiful arrangement of flowers that she had made for me.  Attached was a card with this poem on it.  

Safely Home

 I am home in heaven, dear one,

Oh so happy and so bright!

There is perfect joy and beauty in this everlasting light.

All the pain and grief is over,

Every restless tossing passed;

I am now at peace forever,

Safely home in heaven at last.

Did you wonder how I so calmly,

Trod the valley of the shade?

Oh, but Jesus’ love illumined 

Every dark and fearful glade.

 And He came Himself to meet me

In that way so hard to tread;      

And with Jesus’ arm to lean on,

Could I have one doubt or dread?

Then you must not grieve so sorely, 

For I love you dearly still;

Try to look beyond earth’s shadows,

Pray to trust our Father’s will.

 There is work still waiting for you,

So you must not idly stand;

 Do it now, while life remains,

You shall rest in Jesus’ land.

 When that work is all completed,

He will gently call you home;

Oh, the rapture of that meeting,

Oh, the joy to see you come!

Nope, that is not an inspired poem but YES,  God used this to answer my breaking heart’s prayers on this particular day.  

I could tell you story after story like this:  I asked for flowers just before Valentine’s Day of 1988 and a bouquet of beautiful roses was delivered from one of Jonnie’s dear friends.  The card told me that Jonnie loved me!   Mother’s Day was another difficult day and I was given 3 roses by my father-in-law with the words,  “These are from your 3 men.  They love you.”  

Our Father knows when our needs are desperate and He cares!   Are you feeling the great love of our great God as you stroll down memory lane with me?  I want every reader to know how much we are loved.  We never face life’s most difficult moments alone.  Remember that.  Now join me back in Charlotte after my move.  

  My conviction concerning caring for my boys was that I would continue to be a stay-at-home mom.  My down payment had been paid.  I had no income and in January my first house payment would be due!  It appeared to me that there were many people who thought I was delusional.  In fact, someone very close to me suggested that I accept the fact that my life was not going to look anything like I wanted it to, to give up on the notion of being a stay at home mom and allow extended family to watch my boys while I went out to work.  Others called to encourage me to give up on it…  just go get a job!   My belief was that what my boys needed more than anything at this time was that their mom stand strong.  I was not willing to negotiate my time with them.  I was not willing to hand them over to anyone else to care for.  While I stood firm on the outside I was inwardly terrified and constantly praying.  “God, I believe You have given me this conviction concerning my children.  Please provide!”    By the time January had rolled around, I had lined up piano students to teach in my home, had been informed that we would be receiving monthly social security checks for what Jonnie had put in during his short adult life (this would pay for food and gas) and then I received a phone call that will forever remain another defining moment.  I stood at the kitchen counter when I answered the phone and heard the words,  “Well, I guess you may be able to pay your mortgage!  We just received word that because Jonnie was killed on camp property while doing his job you are entitled to a workman’s compensation check.”   The amount of the monthly check was the exact amount of my mortgage payment!  As I hung up the phone I fell to my knees and I thanked my Heavenly Father for not only providing for us but for reaffirming my decision to focus on my boys.  I felt He had miraculously and specifically provided for our home.  While Jonnie was killed 3 days before his life insurance was to take effect, had he lost his life after leaving the camp property, we would not have received this compensation.   

God was working!  

  There is so much more to tell… but I want you to think about what I’ve shared today. It tells us so much about our Heavenly Father and His love for us! 

There was a time when I thought loneliness meant being alone. Learning the true meaning of loneliness is a difficult but very real journey. Being a single mom in a church full of couples is lonely. Being a part of a women’s Bible study where you are the only one that does not have a husband is lonely. Attending family camps for the sake of your children without a husband is lonely. Just sitting in church services alone is lonely. Driving to and from family events is lonely. Now grant you, there are single adults who do life alone all the time. I understand that. But going suddenly from the couple with children life to the single woman with children life is a bit different. I don’t think it’s on purpose but people are uncomfortable when you are present. You don’t fit in. One of the most difficult and lonely moments of my life was the night that my father passed away. Many of the family members had spent the last 48 hours in and out of the house talking with him, holding his hand, praying with him, singing to him.  As we circled his bed the night that we knew he would be taking his last breath I looked around the room.   It took my breath away. My mom, his wife, stood with her parents on either side. Each of my brothers stood with their arms wrapped around their wives. My sister stood in the arms of her husband. And then there was me. This was one of those moments when I longed for someone with skin on.  At the end of the evening, as I loaded my two little boys up into our car out on the street and I looked back and watched as my dad’s body was carried out of the home, I could barely breathe. I couldn’t lose control and start sobbing because I had two little boys watching me. One of them was yelling uncontrollably,  “I want my Pawpaw I want my Pawpaw.”   The other, a little older seemed to understand what was happening and he sat silent. My heart was crying out to God for comfort, for a pair of arms to wrap around me, for someone to talk to:  but there was no one. Extended family came in to help but in so many ways the more people there were, the more conversation there was going around me, the more alone I felt. There were moments when I felt angry. There were moments when I felt an overwhelming sadness. But it would be several years before I was able to actually shed the tears that I needed to shed.   I was unable to express the grief of losing my father 3 years after the death of my husband.  I was still adjusting to facing all of life’s ups and downs with absolutely no one to hold my hand or hug me and tell me, “I’m here for you.”  I clung more firmly to the Heavenly Father that I could not see;  that I could not feel. 

A few thoughts on Grief

God cares!  There were many words spoken to me on the day of Jonnie’s service.  I remember the spot in the back of the church where I stood when my brother, Tom wrapped his arm around me and said,  “God holds your tears in a bottle!”  He then told me the reference of the verse:   Psalm 56:8   You may not understand what an immense comfort this was in the moment but that moment is forever imprinted on my mind.  I thought:  Almighty God sees me here in this church.  He sees my two precious babies.  He sees how alone I feel in this crowd of people – all feeling their own pain.  He cares enough to see each tear!  

Grief needs a listening ear.  Those who let me talk were a great comfort!   Sometimes when we are unsure of what to say, the best thing we can do is simply offer a hug, an “I’m so sorry!” and our presence.   If we are close enough to the one grieving we can gauge when there is a need to talk and open the conversation with something like,  “Tell me about how you’re feeling,”  or  “When did you talk to him last?”   Or   “How did you find out?”   Depending on the circumstances, ask a question that allows the grieving one to talk about the person or the circumstances of the death.  A listening ear without advice is most needed.  

There is no timeline on grief.  We hear “experts” talk about the stages of grief and I’m sure there is a place to study and try to understand these things.  But for the grieving, there really is no place for someone to tell them what they should be feeling and how they should be acting at any given time.  We each process things in our own way and in our own time – allow that!   We each have different relationship dynamics – allow that!  

Only the very selfish and ignorant will try to compare griefs… “I knew him longer,”   “I loved him better,”   “There is no grief that compares to this (relationship) grief.”   “She was his girlfriend in high school and she’s really hurting too!”  These types of conversations and these types of comparisons do no one any good and they only add to the pain of the grieving.

The words,  “I know exactly how you feel,”  sound hollow and self-centered.  They do not express sympathy or concern.  Try something like,   “I cannot even imagine what you are going through, but I want you to know I am here for anything you need!  Even if just a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to.”  

A grieving adult has not become incapable of making decisions.  Taking over and making decisions for another adult (decisions that they will have to live with in the future) is not helpful!  Some of those very decisions are things that a spouse or other closest family member will feel belong to them.  Taking that away minimizes their value in the deceased’s life!  Recognize their role.  Don’t determine for them what they will and will not see.  Instead, help by doing the tasks that may be helpful – like meals, cleaning up after company leaves, offering to help with children – but ask.  Ask them what they want to decide, what they want to see, what they need to hear.  Don’t assume and take over.  

Do send cards.   Don’t give advice in those cards.  Send your love.   Tell the grieving one what you appreciated about their loved one.  Tell them that you are praying for them – and do!   

Do remember special dates and let the grieving know that you remember them, that you are thinking of them, and that you love them.  

Give the grieving privacy.  When they say that want to be alone – leave them alone.  The idea that they don’t need to be alone, that you are worried about them being alone is just wrong!  No one can process grief with an audience.  No one can really cry and seek God’s face with an audience.  No one can truly feel all that they must feel in order to heal and function with an audience.  It is when we are truly alone that we are able to seek God’s face, read His Word and allow Him to minister to our hearts.  Yes, it’s difficult to walk away from someone we love knowing how badly they are hurting – but when we do so, we allow them to fully grieve.  

Be respectful of others who are grieving the same loss – from a different perspective.  How do we do this?  By being unselfish in those moments when all we naturally think about is our own pain.  

*When I lost my husband I was his only spouse, the only mother of his children.  My needs and my grief were indeed unique to all others.  His parents and siblings, nieces and nephews, in-laws, friends…  they were all reeling with their own grief.  Sometimes, we have to walk away when the words or actions of others are insensitive toward us and our needs and sometimes we have to forgive when the pain is excruciating.  Choose to be respectful and considerate even when we can’t be comforting due to our own grief.  

*When we lost my father I had siblings and a mother, my father’s siblings, and others who were also grieving deeply the loss of a husband, dad, grandfather, brother, son, friend.  Being respectful simply means recognizing the pain of another and refusing to pretend he only meant something to you!  We see the true colors revealed too often when families go through death.  Instead of facing it together, they allow the pain to separate them, they allow selfishness to heap on extra pain to the already overwhelming grief that accompanies death.  As believers, our Christlikeness should affect these situations just as they do any other life circumstance!   

*What about the grief of miscarriage?  I cover my own experience in the book but if there was one thing that stood out to me during and after my miscarriage was the incredible lack of support.  If you’ve experienced miscarriage then you probably know the grief – and depending on the circumstances it may have been great grief.  I found that no one wanted to talk about it.  I felt that only my husband was willing to let me cry, to hear my heart, my fears, the great loss that I felt!  The subject seemed off-limits to all others.  Some seemed to write it off as “no big deal!”  You know those defining moments we’ve been speaking of?  I remember another very clearly.  My parents had come to visit and we had driven to the college campus to pick up my sister to go to dinner.  My father and I were alone in the car for a few minutes and he turned to me and said,  “Hey honey.  I want you to know how sorry I am about the baby!  I know how much you want to be a mother, and I know that you are going to be a wonderful one!  You WILL get pregnant again and you WILL have a baby!”  He is in heaven now and he probably never knew how much his words meant to me – but he simply acknowledged my pain, acknowledged my fear of not having children, and let me know that he supported me!  Those words were like a balm to my soul and comfort that I still remember today.  

*What about other types of grief?  Grief over a wayward child?  Oh, I can talk about that too!  The truth is that when a child steps away from how we have raised them for a time, or openly rebels and the grief overwhelms our hearts;  what we need from others is layered.  We need to know that we are not alone.  There is nothing more isolating than feeling like all of the other parents in the room got it right and I failed!  Sometimes in our Christian circles, we are so busy putting on good fronts that we are unwilling to admit our struggles, unwilling to admit that our children aren’t perfect.  It is possible to be supportive without airing what we call dirty laundry.  I don’t need to know how your child is rebelling to know that you have a burdened heart!  I also don’t need lectures or information on how I should be handling a difficult situation with a child.  Nothing will close the mouth of a grieving parent more quickly than someone who believes they have all the answers sharing their unsolicited “wisdom”!   A grieving parent also needs prayer support, encouragement (not a list of how they did it wrong, but a pat on the back for what they did right!)  A grieving parent is most likely already feeling shame and taking the blame for choices their children are making.  And, a  grieving parent also needs hope!  A wayward child is not a lost cause:  ever!  Why?  Because God is bigger than any rebellion, bigger than any circumstance, bigger than any failures on our part!  We offer hope to one another by praying with and for one another, by grasping a hand and acknowledging that we too have been through hard times as our children reach the ages of making their own decisions and their own way.  No parent is ever alone in their grief and fear and we come alongside one another and bear one another’s burdens.  This is how Scripture tells us to support this kind of grief.  

*Griefs that most of us have in common – more so than the death of a spouse or someone very close – the death of grandparents.  You know, this is one that I believe we sometimes seem to ignore:  thinking it is expected and really shouldn’t hurt that much.  However, it is a real pain, a real loss, and sometimes deep grief!  Another defining moment for me (a negative one) was when my grandmother passed away.  I never lived in the same town as my grandmother;  in fact,  I always lived hours away from her.  She and I however had a very close relationship.  I seem to have gotten many of her traits and we connected on many levels.  She was always there for special occasions, always a phone call away, always knowing what was going on in my life and doing what she could to ease any burdens and be a blessing.  She and I spoke on the phone regularly and I just loved her so.  She was 89 in November 2010 when she passed away.   I had been there just a few weeks prior to see her and tell her how much I loved her.  But, I was not ready.  When I got the phone call that she had passed away I was sitting in my car in a parking lot and I just began to weep.   When I made a phone call to let someone know I just couldn’t contain the tears.  I was truly brokenhearted, overcome with reality and grief.  I’ll never forget the words from the other end of the phone.  “Stop crying!  You knew she was going to die!  She was 89!”  Yes, many of us have this grief in common.  If we were blessed to know our grandparents then we are grieved when they pass away – even though we know that they can only live on this earth so long before God calls them home!  Simply acknowledge the loss.  Simply express your love.  Offer a hug.   Offer the listening ear!   Find out what the special dates of remembrance are for those grandparents and acknowledge them each year.  The initial intensity of grief will pass but the desire to honor their lives and memory will remain!  

There are obviously other griefs that people face that I haven’t spoken of here because I haven’t experienced them personally.  Basically, when someone is grieving the loss of human life, we need to be respectful, present listeners, offer hope, offer practical help, and never ever try to minimize what another is feeling.  

I simply must add one more thought on grief here.  The loss of human life and the loss of animal life do not compare and should not be likened to one another.  I love my pets.  I’ve grieved the loss of pets with tears and stings of sorrow.  I miss their presence and at times a tear will still trickle down when I see an old photo or reminder of days with them.  However;  it is contrary to God’s Word to equate their lives to the lives of people.  It is disrespectful to those who have suffered the loss of human life to compare the loss of a pet to that kind of grief.  They don’t compare.  Trust me on that.  Yes, offer your kindness and condolences to someone who loves and loses a pet – but please stop comparing it to the loss of a child or other family member.  And Christian,  there is no rainbow bridge.  There is no Scriptural basis for saying that your pet is in heaven with your loved ones waiting for you,   According to God’s Word, the human being is the only living creature with a soul – the only creation that God offers eternal life through the death of His Son.  We are doing a disservice to the gospel when we speak of rainbow bridges and pets going to Jesus.  I love you and I’m sorry for the pain the loss of a pet causes, but I’m very concerned about the truth of the gospel!  

Do I really feel it is important to talk about how we can be supportive of one another in grief?  Yes!  I really do!   Some of the Defining Moments of my life are the negative ones associated with these times.  Sadly, some of the most painful experiences and yes, some humorous ones come from those who really should have known better!  My favorite example:  When I received the phone call telling me of Jonnie’s death it was from a perfect stranger to me – someone else should have done this!  What did he say?   “You need to come home!  There’s been a serious accident.”   When I asked if he could tell me what was going on he suggested that I call the rescue squad.    My mother did call for me and was told that my husband had been involved in an accident and he had died on site.  For the next many hours I sat imagining what could have happened to my Jonnie – was it a lake accident?   Was it a freak tractor accident?  I had no idea and no one seemed to want to tell me!   What a horrible way to find out!   But we won’t sit and focus on how that should have gone.  Let’s fast forward to the evening of visitation at the funeral home.  I was standing in a receiving line with my brothers on either side of me for support.   This same man (who I was told was a pastor of some sort and who had a group at the camp the night of Jonnie’s death) came through the line.   He first told me that he was the one who had called me.   He then said, (and I quote)  “I understand exactly what you are going through!  I just lost my dog a few weeks ago!”    I looked at his face in shock and disbelief while I felt my brothers on either side of me step forward.   I thought this man was about to be put on the floor and just said quietly,  “It’s ok!”  We would laugh in the following months as we remembered that moment, but I would never forget how ill-prepared this man was to comfort anyone who had lost a loved one.  May I suggest that if you aren’t sure what to say – say nothing!   We can be an incredible blessing to one another or we can add fuel to the already burning flame of grief.  I hope it is our desire to be a blessing during the most difficult times in one another’s lives.   

From January of 1988 through the early 1990’s my life consisted of establishing a home for my little boys and myself, helping my mom care for my terminally ill father, learning new skills  (pumping my own gas, changing oil and tires, gardening)  budgeting very little income to provide, teaching piano, teaching Sunday School, having a ladies Bible study in my home and traveling across the country with my boys in tow, singing and sharing my testimony of God’s work in our lives. 

It was during this time that I solidified my decision to homeschool my boys. My days at camp had been spent devoted to my babies – teaching Joey Scripture, reading to him, finding every way possible to “educate” his little mind. Early one winter morning, Jonnie was driving us to Charlottesville where I would grocery shop and he would run camp errands. We passed a group of young children standing on the side of the road waiting for the school bus. With tears in my eyes, I looked into the backseat where Joey sat and then I said to Jonnie, “I don’t think I can send him off every day for someone else to teach him! I love teaching him!” Jonnie responded with, “Well, I’m not sure that’s legal; but let’s do it!” I remembered those moments as if they had just happened and I knew that Jonnie would have supported my thinking; so, now that I was on my own with these two precious boys, that concept hadn’t changed. It wasn’t a popular movement in the late 80’s but it was certainly something my heart was all about! It was also during this time that we discovered Josh’s severe food allergies as well as his ADHD.  I was challenged by doctors and educators when I made my own decisions concerning what was best for him and stuck to my convictions and preferences.  (Again, I’m pretty stubborn).   During all of this, I was learning even more to throw out conventional wisdom, research, and study for myself, and do what I believed was right for my boys:  even if no one else understood or supported my decisions.  Was it easy?  Absolutely not.  In fact, it was terrifying!  

As I remember some of these moments, I ask you to just imagine. The day that Josh was diagnosed with the severe allergies (food and atmosphere) changed our lives once again. I had spent months in and out of doctor’s offices with issues like rashes, inability to sleep, inability to breathe and an impacted colon. On one of our trips for speaking engagements, we were in Canada. It was the middle of the night when he woke me up with what sounded like a croupy cough. Of course, I went directly to the steam shower – but when that failed we ended up in a Canadian hospital – and orders to again see his doctor when we got back home. The diagnosis? Allergy Asthma. So at this point, he could eat no peanuts so I made almond butter for him, he could eat no bread so I bought rice cakes for his sandwiches, even meat, fruits and veggies were limited. I spent hours each week bleaching every toy, washing every stuffed animal, removing all signs of dust or other allergens from the house. We gave up our live Christmas trees due to his inability to breathe when one was in the house. It became a way of life for the three of us – and still; his mind and body seemed to be in it’s own rhythm. More visits with specialists and the diagnosis with severe ADHD was made. It was on a Sunday morning when I was standing on the platform at church singing and looked down to see my youngest son standing on his head on the pew – his legs swinging back and forth. As usual, Joey sat calmy beside him looking straight ahead at me as if nothing was unusual. Others in the church, however, found it not only unusual, but disturbing. It was later that evening when a woman approached me with a rather hefty stack of papers. This was information on ADHD and medications that she felt I needed to be made aware of. *Yes, another thing I learned during these years, is that many feel very free to offer unsolicited advice when you are a young widow with children. I thanked her and tried to humbly say that we had already received the diagnosis, met with the doctors and I had made my decisions. She was quite a bit older than I and became quite adamant and even angry with me at this point. There was no way I was choosing what was best for my son (in her opinion). I was much too young and inexperienced to be making such a grave decision. I glanced through her paperwork later that evening and threw it all away. And yes! I was terrified! Of course, I was aware that my son had all the characteristics of what was now being dianosed as ADHD, and of course several doctors had discussed with me all of the available medications and of course, I had read everything I could get my hands on and made my decision based on what I had learned. I was choosing to not medicate Joshua – not because I was ill informed or a bad mother, but because I didn’t believe it was what was best for him. I wanted him to know that God didn’t mess up when He created him exactly as he was. I wanted him to know that while it was more difficult for him to control himself, his impulses, his activity and his energy levels than it was for his big brother – he had to learn to live with it. He had to learn to function with the body and mind that God gave him and that God must have a purpose in all of it. So, I tried to mother him as he needed to be mothered which was a little different than his brother needed to be mothered! Wasn’t that my job?

So, I battled the opinions of others, accepted and then set down the armloads of books I was handed on the subject. But then the time came for Josh to be educated – you know – that time when we as Americans have decided that they are to go into a classroom setting, sit in a desk for 7-8 hours and be quiet, still and learn. (Hence the need for the medication – for the teacher’s sanity). Remember, I had already made the decision to homeschool but I had been teaching Joey since before he was 2 and had started doing the same with Josh once we were settled in our little house and routine. At the request of our pediatrician, I took Josh to a gentleman who was a specialist in the area of ADHD and education and he ran all sorts of tests on my son. It was a long day. At the end of the day, I sat across from him at his very large mahogany desk as he told me that Josh needed to be enrolled in the public school system so that he could be in the special education classes. He proceeded to tell me that he would never read nor would he be able to function in society normally. His only hope was the school system and these special teachers. Well, if you know me, then you know that this didn’t sit well. If you know me well, then you know that inside I was boiling. And if you know me very well, then you know what I did. I told this gentleman that Josh would not be going into the school system with special education teachers. I told him that he also would not be medicated in order to sit still for an entire school day. I told him that I would be homeschooling him, that I would be able to give him what he needed and that there was no teacher in any school who was going to care more about my son than I did. The gentleman then threatened me – told me that I could be turned into social services for not accepting and complying with his professional opinion. I asked him nicely to give me a chance to prove that I could do this and he reluctantly agreed. Again – would this have even been a conversation if I had a husband sitting beside me in that doctor’s office? Again – were these decisions made lightly and were they easy? No! Have you ever seen a movie scene where someone appears very bravely to be standing up to the bullies on the outside and then once the moment is over they turn and literally throw up? That was how I felt in these moments. And there were many of them!

While we are on the subject of advice and opinions… I wish it wasn’t true; but there were so many both close and not so close to me who were concerned about this young momma navigating life and parenting of two boys alone. Some things were said to my face and some things were said behind my back (or so they thought). It was suggested that I give my boys to their grandparents and go back to college. It was suggested that they would not become the men that they needed to become – and the number of books given to me on the subject of raising boys was great! If you’ve heard some of the stories of my sons – well, let’s just say that they were allowed to be rambunctious, they were allowed to do things that many considered ‘not so safe,’ and they were allowed to get bumps, bruises, scrapes and more without being coddled by an overprotective mother. But this mother was very aware of the opinions of those around her.

 During these years I learned exactly what it means to pray for their safety as well as to pray for every single need. We were blessed to receive clothing donations for each of us.  One particular family had two boys a few years older than mine and the mom would regularly send me what they had outgrown.  I actually wore my grandmother’s clothing for years as she cleaned out her closets and sent things my way.  We didn’t shop and pick out our own clothing except for once a year for pictures and we honestly didn’t know that we were missing out  We were surviving and grateful to have something to wear.  Again, lessons in what matters for eternity, what we prioritize, and what special blessings we should be grateful for when we have them!  

Now, something that is not a special privilege and is most definitely a necessity:   food!  This is an area that I sometimes felt like a modern-day Geroge Mueller.  “Lord, my boys need food!  We have no milk.  The food allergy thing makes grocery shopping very expensive!  Please provide for today.”   I’ve mentioned that I hosted a women’s Bible study in my home weekly.  It was on Thursday mornings and we had a group of around 20 women who came regularly, bringing their children and each bringing a lunch dish to share.  These ladies were dear friends and the fellowship was a blessing to my heart even though we often talked about marriage, communication, and challenges.  A part of my heart ached through these discussions but the joy of being with friends overshadowed the pain.  On a Tuesday following one of these weeks, I was opening the house for the morning.  When I opened the front door and made sure the storm door was locked I saw several cars pulling up in front of my house.  I began to panic, thinking I was off on what day of the week it was. I thought the ladies were coming for a Bible study and I wasn’t prepared!   The fact was that on the Monday night before I had gone to my knees after the boys were asleep and prayed for the food that we needed.  The cupboards were bare.  The refrigerator was empty.  The money had run out before the needs were met!   What I watched for the next few minutes was this group of ladies opening the backs of their cars and carrying in bag after bag of groceries for us:  including the very specific foods that Josh could eat!  What I wasn’t aware of was that the previous week (during our Thursday Bible study) my friend Cinthy had taken a peek into my refrigerator and cabinets and she realized we were in need!   Prayer was answered and God used a group of ladies to do so!  

Thank you for reading! Until next time.