Purple is one of my favorite colors. When in nature, I seek it out. Therefore I couldn’t choose just one flower or picture for that matter. Looking at these different shades of one color makes me want to wrap myself in its splendor.
I’m rather partial to the first and last picture. Which one do you most like?
For more eye candy click here
The subject for today’s 5-Minute Friday post is so fitting for me right now. I started writing about Elliot this morning and was interrupted. When I came back and read the topic I knew there was a reason why I had started writing about my friend. Though some of this was written earlier today, I compiled the post within the 5 minute time limit. This one is for my Elliot.
GO
Thoughts of Elliot consume me. Why now? Why here? No one can plan grief. When it hits…when it leaves…only to return again. It is the uninvited stranger who breaks down the door.
This week Elliot and Chris’ daughter turned 4…without her mother. This picture was taken around this same time last year. I do not have words to describe the kind of sadness I feel when I see her precious face in pictures posted on Elliot’s facebook page.
Heaviness sits on my heart when I think of the family members gathered around singing “Happy Birthday to Bradford…” yet one voice is clearly missing from the group.
It has been just over 8 weeks since Elliot’s passing. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Time goes on. And it will continue to.
There is life beyond the raw reality of death. The ache of never seeing her smile or hearing her voice. The solitude of pain is intense. I am ready to be beyond it.
The children visit her grave to leave flowers and kisses. Not yet old enough to understand fully that what the ground holds is a cancer ridden shell that their mother is now free from and has shed for heaven.
Beyond the grave. Beyond the sting of death. Beyond the noise of doubt. Beyond the temporary trappings of this world. My friend sits, waiting for the rest of us. I find solace knowing that she is complete…perfectly healed…and more alive than she has ever been.
“The one thing we owe absolutely to God is never to be afraid of anything…even death, which, after all, is but that final breakthrough into the open, waiting, outstretched arms of Abba.” ~Charles de Foucauld
STOP
“Aerodynamically, the bumble bee shouldn’t be able to fly,
but the bumble bee doesn’t know it
so it goes on flying anyway.”
I was talking with a beautiful friend the other day about ghosts from the past. I have a few, as does she. Some of hers are just louder than mine.
She had been in conversation with a family member just hours before who had used the term “damaged goods” when referring to her. As she spoke the words through tears, I felt rage welling up in my spirit and showing itself all over my face.
Seeing the color of my cheeks change she added, “Joy, it really isn’t a big deal.”
“That is where you are wrong, darlin’. It is a very big deal. You are far from damaged.”
She cut my response short, “No, I kind of am. I would say it’s an accurate description.”
At this point in the conversation I had a couple of options. I could begin ranting about what a ridiculous self-assessment this girl was making or I could speak the truth in love. Please keep in mind that it infuriates me when someone allows another human being, mortal, flesh and blood, to strip them of their identity in Christ. What shakes me to my core is when that individual doing the stripping is a mother or other guardian who has been entrusted with shaping the life of someone else.
Thankfully I chose the latter of the two options.
“Here’s the deal, sugar. We all have things that can be categorized under the label ‘damaged.’ No one is worse than another. They are equal. Yours may look different from mine, but in God’s eyes, they are the same.” As these words were coming out of my mouth, I thought, “Do I believe this? Does my path of destruction look the same as what ‘church goin’, conservative clothes wearin’, orphan savin’, never kissed a boy, doesn’t sin unless by absolute accident, savin’ herself for marriage, non tattooed/pierced/scarred‘ girl’s destruction? Do I truly believe that? Hmmmm…I don’t think I do. Well, maybe I do. I hope I do. Sometimes…on a Tuesday…when the sky is blue…and cloudless…and all the planets are in line, I do.”
I had to come clean. “You know, it’s a difficult concept to fathom. At times I have trouble grasping it myself. But I know it’s true, because Jesus said it and He doesn’t lie.” We both agreed that neither of us could refute Jesus’ words.
As we left each others company that afternoon the wheels were turning in my mind. God is always on time, yes? This morning, Rodney Anderson spoke at Buckhead church. He took a passage from Luke 18 and explained it in such a comprehensive and applicable way.
He was talking about this very thing! Comparing and thinking better of oneself and praying as if God takes out His list to make sure we are worthy of being listened to. It doesn’t happen that way. It’s an awesome message that you can watch by clicking here.
He wrapped everything up with John 19:30 when Jesus said, “It is finished.” There is no longer a need for another human being, a middle man (if you will) to do our bidding for us. Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice and the comparing, accusing, condemning, rejecting was over. Now, whenever God looks at you and at me, He sees us through the eyes of His son, Jesus, who was and is the ultimate sacrifice for my “destruction.” And as Rodney explained so perfectly today, “That’s good news.”
Be encouraged. No matter the size of devastation along the trail you have blazed, Jesus is enough. He paid it all. Your ransom, my ransom has been PAID IN FULL.
Need a visual reminder? Click here
The word “Mixed” by definition means; containing a mixture of both favorable and negative elements. While the word “Blessing” means; a beneficial thing for which one is grateful; something that brings well-being. I have had a bit of experience with mixed blessings. You?
I hear interesting conversations about in-laws. Sometimes I think that they were put here to make holidays stressful. When discussing this sensitive subject with several girlfriends I asked how different their lives would be if they didn’t have a mother-in-law. This brought a smile to most of their faces. (If you’re a mother-in-law who’s already feeling offended, just hang with me.)
I then asked how it would change things had they never met their husband’s mother. They agreed that they have learned a great deal about their man from talking with his mother.
The truth is, I have never met my mother-in-law. We talked on the phone when I was a teenager, but she passed away before I was able to sit down and share in conversation over a cup of coffee or give her a hug and breathe in her unique smell that would later bring her to memory when a passerby was wearing the same scent. I was not able to ask her how she survived being a full-time working single mother.
When Chris and I were apart for a time I would have dreams about Lou Ann. We would be sitting in a cafe having conversations about life. I would wake up the next morning with her on my mind and throughout the day I felt a closeness to her.
Weird, I know. Especially for someone I had never even met. Eventually the relentless persuasion of thoughts to write Christopher a letter about his mother, whom he loved dearly and I had never met, led me to a pen and paper. My hand could not move as quickly as the words formed in my mind.
Suddenly, I was speaking of this woman I had never known as if we had been in each others company on a regular basis. I explained in the letter that I knew it sounded crazy, but there were things I felt she would want him to know. I then held on to it.
The next time I was in New York Chris and I had dinner and talked about our lives over the last couple of years. I nervously gave him the letter knowingly that he would probably think I was nuts. I asked him not to read it until the day I left. It was April 17th, two years to the day that his mother had passed away. I was not aware of that at the time.
Many things have fallen into place between then and now. Things I never dreamed possible.
All I have of Lou Ann are a few photos and the memories that Chris shares with me.
She was an Educator. Brilliant. Beautiful. Strong. She was a fighter. A Survivor. She is my husband’s mother. Isn’t she stunning?
I was never able to ask her about Chris’ childhood…when he cut his first tooth or if he tried to climb out of his crib the way our oldest son did.
“What was his first word?” “When was the first time he tried rice cereal?” “Did he like sweet potatoes as much as my boys did?”
“What was his favorite lullaby when he awoke afraid in the middle of the night?” “Did she rock him to sleep?” “When was his first haircut? Did she cut it or take him somewhere to have it cut? Did he scream the way our youngest does?” 
“Did he have a favorite blanket or toy?” “How old was he when he took his first step?” “When did he lose his first tooth?” “What was his favorite thing to do?” “Do our boys look like him?” “Do they have the same mannerisms?” “When did he skin his knee for the first time?” “What is your favorite memory from his childhood?” “Has he always loved to draw and create?”
A vital question I wish I could have asked before going into labor with our first son is,
“How big was Chris’ head when he was born?” and “How long was your labor?”
So many questions unanswered. So many moments missed that I know she would have cherished.
Our children know her as “Lulu.” And as far as they’re concerned, heaven is filled with balloons released from their little hands while blowing kisses to the sky.
It’s been some time since I have found her on the other side of sleep, waiting in a cafe, to talk about my boys and compare notes over coffee and hot tea, I can only hope that I will find her there again sometime.
I am incredibly grateful to her for taking care of the love of my life. For making sure that he was provided for and prepared to face a world of both disappointment and triumph, ugliness and beauty.
I know, in-laws can be rather challenging (to say the least.) But they can also be a wonderful resource into the things that made our spouse who they are today. They are much like, “mixed blessings.”
I would love to hear your thoughts on extended family. What’s the craziest thing that has ever happened at a “family” event or around your diner table? Do you get along with your mother-in-law?
“Don’t climb on that, don’t break anything, don’t be so aggressive, don’t be so noisy, don’t be so messy, don’t take such crazy risks. But God’s design-which He placed in boys as the picture of Himself- is a resounding yes. Be fierce, be wild, be passionate.” ~John Eldridge
Do the words in the quote sound familiar? I feel like I’m saying them all the time. “Don’t do this, don’t do that.” When really, the last thing in the world that I want is for my son to be anything less than he was created to be. The first word that comes to mind when I think of my boys is, adventure. They thrive on it. They have to have it.
Please join me at Lil Light O’ Mine as I share my experience, hopes and prayers for my boys.
Even A Girl Like Me 