The Fire

About 8 years ago, I gave Jon a book for his 44th birthday.   I had written in it 44 memories and 44 things I loved about him.   It was his favorite gift.   He opened it, read it and cried.   He really hated crying in front of me, but he had such a soft heart.   He kept the book in the top drawer of his nightstand and would look back at it from time to time.   I wanted to do something similar as a Christmas gift to him this year, but I just couldn’t get in the right place to sit down and write. So, I’m hoping the “better late than never” rule still applies.   Let’s call it, “Everything He Did Right” (in no particular order).   This is for you, Jon. He Gave Real Hugs. -   Jon knew how to hug.   He didn’t just wrap his arms around me and squeeze tightly, there was mental and emotional intent in his action and I could feel it.   It was like his hugs went all the way through me.   I could feel his heart and his spirit.   Depending on the occasion, I could literally FEEL the emotion i

As usual I was awake from 2:00 -5:00 am last night (this morning?...whatever).  My insomnia usually comes with a narrative and this is what struck me in the wee hours of this morning.  It doesn't really fit with the rest of the writings in this blog, so I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I felt like writing, so here it is.  Consider this the random thought that occurs in the middle of conversation with your good friend.  By now we're close enough that we don't really have to stick to a theme or agenda, right?   My life is not perfect.   But I’m fine with that!   Truth is, I’m so over the “my life is perfect” social media image people are selling.   You see it - the flawless selfies, the 2 1/2 kids poised perfectly on an antique sofa in the middle of a field of poppies, the school lunches with dolphin shaped sandwiches, the new white picket fence homes being built, the Christmas trees that look like they came out of Better Homes & Gardens, and “just got

I was sitting in my counselor’s office and describing the frustrating feeling of being lost in this world, not feeling like myself anymore, not knowing how to begin most days.   I was explaining to him that the Jennifer I relied on before doesn’t seem to exist anymore.   The Jennifer that handled business, loved being everyone’s cheerleader, loved a challenge, was constantly creating, laughing and singing…the Jennifer that worked hard, that knew how to parent (or at least tried!), that wanted to be fit and sometimes even ate healthy and worked out, the Jennifer who was articulate and could debate and argue with the best of them, she is lost.   This new Jennifer is tired, doesn’t feel motivated or energized, has no self confidence, feels anxious about lots of things, fumbles around for words, and though it’s hard to imagine, is even more disorganized than before.   It's like PTSD . For me, it is as though someone exchanged my 100 watt bulb for a 15 watt bulb and it’s just not getti

It’s time to write.   The 6th month anniversary of Jon’s death came and went and I could not write. I tried, I thought about it, but I could not gather my thoughts and so I took that as a sign the Holy Spirit was saying, “not yet.”   I don’t feel the need to write just to hear myself talk (or think).   It is only cathartic for me to write if there is purpose in what I have to say.   I have said from the beginning that the purpose of cataloging my thoughts here is that I/we may SEE what GOD IS DOING, not simply what I am feeling.   What I am feeling is of no consequence unless God is in it.   Believe me, I feel LOTS…all the time.   Still not a day goes by that the tears do not find me, and many that bring screams and wailing cries from my knees.   In all of this, God is faithful.   He is gently instructing me and wooing me and I am learning to depend on my loving, gracious God more than ever….not spiritual platitudes, but actually depending on a deep connected relationship with the Fat

The Road to Playa Majagual When Jon and I first traveled to Nicaragua last January, Playa Majagual was the second beach we saw.  We had no idea where we were going as we headed off down a bumpy dirt road through the jungle.  Eventually the trees thinned and we looked ahead toward an open expanse at one of the most serene beaches I had ever seen.  It appeared as though we were the only two people there.  How could this beautiful paradise exist and not be running over with tourists and beach goers?  We walked along the sand watching the waves - they were HUGE and way too scary for me, but Jon of course couldn't resist!  I sat on the shore and watched him play like a kid in the ocean.  After awhile we found our way to a little shack on the beach which served cold drinks and yummy food cooked on the grill.  It was the perfect day.  It was the first time we both said we could see ourselves living here. The next day, even though there were 7 other beaches to discover, we decided

I awoke this morning just inundated with thoughts and images of Hurricane Harvey, the flooding, the homes ripped apart by wind, the mounds of twisted metal buildings filled with boats and vehicles, the scenes of furniture, bicycles, and toys all floating down rivers which were once roads.  All of these images which have been made so public, represent peoples lives, their stories....and it breaks my heart!  I have read countless posts from friends who have evacuated their homes, saving what they could, but knowing they will be coming back to extreme damage and repairs that will take months.  And as I sat here and prayed for them, I started to write this: I am thinking this morning of the thousands and thousands of people who have lost their homes, businesses, and even loved ones, to this horrible storm.  Today the hurricane has passed, but the flooding and devastation continues.  By all outward appearances, the sea has calmed; but it is the storm inside us that threatens now, the risi

As usual, I begin writing with no idea where I'm headed.  This is a mirror to my life right now - "no idea where I'm headed."  Tomorrow will be 4 months and I realized that the date, the 11th, is so etched in my subconscious that my whole body begins to ache with horrible anticipation each month as it draws near.  Four months ago today I kissed him goodnight, hugged him close and said "I love you," not knowing it would be the last time I would get to do those simple sacred things.  With each 11th that passes, I fear he is getting farther and farther away from me.  And I know as the months begin to add up, there is more of an expectation that I should be getting along, doing better.  Ugh. People ask how I am doing and I always feel like such a liar when I say, "as good as can be expected" or "just taking it one day at a time."  The truth is I am not taking one day at a time and I'm certainly not doing as good as you would expect.  I

We bought two rocking chairs when we moved to our home in Nicaragua. The purchase was at the top of the list. We had looked at several before we settled on the perfect pair. It was a very important purchase because we knew how much time we would spend, the two of us, on the back porch, looking out at the ocean, reading, praying, studying, drinking coffee and talking together. The whole purpose for our move was to be able to spend more time TOGETHER, disconnected from the rat race, the fast pace and expectations of our lives, able to focus on more important things - each other and our calling. We were excited and looking forward to the adventure, to decompressing, being more free to appreciate life and each other. Now I sit in one rocking chair, the other empty. My, how life can change in an instant. All your plans, hopes and dreams....gone. This reality, this truth has made my life, my thoughts, my work - all of it, a complete mess. Not that one could ever accuse me of being "ne