Water Damage

Around our home there is a light-hearted joke that the laundry room is my favorite room in the house. Seems to be a place I am frequently located. Brooklyn still gets a kick out of telling the time I asked her to set the table saying, “We’re eating in the laundry room tonight.” She repeated it back to me in question, with emphasis as given, “We’re eating in the laundry room?” I realized what I had said and corrected, “the dining room, the dining room, we are eating in the dining room tonight.” The girl still gets a good laugh each time she recalls it. I’m so grateful my mode of an overloaded brain brings such joy to the home when it can. Like my brain, which overflows at times with more information than my mouth can accurately articulate, my washing machine did something similar, malfunctioning, releasing all of its water onto the floor. Of course, we were not home when this occurred, [as I’m a big fan of setting the delay button to have the load ready for the dryer when we return], but it was quite evident the moment we arrived, because the laundry room is one of the first rooms we see when walking in the door.

For those who remember some of the posts composed from this past summer’s events and the storms I mentioned in Meadows in Massachusetts, Nurse's Cry, Deflated, and Crummy Mom, you won’t be surprised at all to know that of course, the washer malfunctioned around the same time. Didn’t seem like too big of a deal then. We cleaned up all the water and started toting laundry down to my Mom’s during the interim of having the washer replaced. Let me say, I’ve never been so grateful to have purchased an extended warranty. We had only had the washer fourteen months. We don’t typically go for extended warranties, but as much as we use our washer and as much as a service technician charges, we figured it was worth our while. Evidently, it was.

Unfortunate bummer inconvenience, but simple fix, right? We thought so. That is until our wood floors buckled.

Apparently the water released from the washer that day ran under the laundry room wall which backs up to our dining room and kitchen, flowed completely through the kitchen even reaching into the living room! It was incredible and unbelievable at the same time. Who would’ve thought it could flow that far and who would’ve thought it could cause so much damage?

Disappointingly, this incident marks a first for Brandon and me…our first homeowner’s claim. We’re counting our blessing that in the sixteen years we’ve been married, this is our first, but you people who carry higher deductibles feel our pain. It’s not a fund you plan to dip into, nevertheless, are so grateful it’s there. Occurrences like these emphasize the importance of those annual budget meetings for sure.

Thursday was another first. Movers came to pack up our entire downstairs. Since the wood has to be replaced, it has to be refinished; therefore, so do all the rooms. We’ve never had movers before. I kept trying to help and they were so polite, “It’s okay, we’ll get it Ma’am.” I won’t chase the squirrel of being called “Ma’am.” It’s such a courteous reference, and I receive it as such, I just still feel a bit young for the name, so I’d encourage them, “Oh, please just call me ‘Heather.’” Regardless, I was in the way and needed to let the nice men do their job, so I met my Mom for breakfast.

I continued to run errands for the day and returned home to the demolition in full swing.

I got out the vacuum and started cleaning up what I could. We’re living in the house for the first week of the project, sleeping in Caden’s room; watching TV, folding laundry and working on the computer in Brooklyn’s room; and using our good ole laundry room for coffee, making sandwiches, washing dishes, feeding the dogs, oh yes, and for laundry too. Jaron and Gavin are packed in as well, storing some of our downstairs items in their rooms. Therefore, the floors needed to be relatively clean for our continued stay in the house.

While cleaning up a bit, my mind pondered that question, “Who would’ve thought it could flow that far and who would’ve thought it could cause so much damage?”

My heart became stirred thinking of our words. Thinking about the damage the flow of the water caused, illustrates the damage caused when we allow our words to flow. Like the washing machine releasing the water, sometimes we release our words without first taking into account what it may damage.

Proverbs 11:9 NLT

With their words, the godless destroy their friends, but knowledge will rescue the righteous.

“With their words…” And we’ve all seen it happen. Words can destroy.

Our wood floors and sub-flooring have been removed and we are hanging out in our home without starting any work to replace them for several days. Why? Because the concrete, our home’s foundation, has to have time to dry. Otherwise, we’d be laying new floor over a moist surface providing for substandard results.

Unfortunately, many of you are feeling exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been wounded by words. Someone felt their opinion was of so much value that they were going to speak it whether it was right, whether it was helpful, and regardless if it was hurtful. Let me share some encouragement with you, The Word says “but knowledge will rescue the righteous.” After you rip out the warped wood, while you’re allowing your foundation to dry, go back to what God’s Word says, and stand firm in who you are in Him.

Perhaps you’re the washing machine. Perhaps you released a flow of words and have seen the damage it’s caused. You know, the beautiful thing about our relationship with the Lord is He knows all so well how human we are and how, despite our progress to grow and mature spiritually, sometimes we find ourselves walking in the flesh. So what do we do? Philippians 2:3-4 “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.” Lay out your motives before the Lord. Allow Him to search your heart. Forsake pride and humble yourself for the interest of the one you hurt. It’s not for the weak, because you may be rejected, but it will honor God because it’s all about your heart.

Maybe there isn’t any water damage in your life right now. Maybe there haven’t been any words spoken or received in a destructive manner.

First of all, take just a moment and say, “Thank you, Jesus for the peace I have in my relationships. I ask that you wrap your protection around each individual I love and guard our hearts that we may not hurt one another, but continue to love one another as You love us. Unconditionally, faithfully, and genuinely.”

Secondly, take a moment to soak in some of what Proverbs teaches us about our words. You may have heard people say they read a Proverb a day. Since there are 30 to 31 days in a month, and there are 31 Proverbs, it is a great benefit receiving of the wisdom found there daily.

When using our words, choose which side of the Proverb you will stand.

Proverbs 10:11

The words of the godly are a life-giving fountain; the words of the wicked conceal violent intentions.

Proverbs 10:21

The words of the godly encourage many, but fools are destroyed by their lack of common sense.

Proverbs 10:32

The lips of the godly speak helpful words, but the mouth of the wicked speaks perverse words.

Proverbs 12:18

Some people make cutting remarks, but the words of the wise bring healing.

Proverbs 15:28

The heart of the godly thinks carefully before speaking; the mouth of the wicked overflows with evil words.

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Inspiring Change

“I can’t feel my legs! I can’t feel my legs!”  It was Olaf’s sentiments after falling down a mountain on a pillow of snow, although we know they weren’t his legs.  It was also my sentiments after cracking down on these few extra winter pounds.  I’m not talking major body transformation.  I’m talking about a little more than the treadmill routine after those snow days that the kids and I ate cookie dough and then warm-right-out-of-the-oven cookies, or those brownie’s for Sunday night’s Once Upon a Time, and that little dish of ice cream before bed some evenings. Oh how quickly those habits make the jeans a little snug! From my experiences of battling with the scale, I resorted to giving myself a weight range. It’s my healthy place. I set a four-pound fluctuation zone. This allows me some room to enjoy my little indulgences. And it keeps that dreaded basic bathroom piece out of the equation….the mirror. We can’t always trust the reflection we see there. I remember; those days when I was burying my insecurities and fears in a banana split and then hugging the toilet till I had purged all remaining content. Having this distorted perception that if I could be thin enough, I’d compensate for the ugliness of the scars.

How ever did I overcome that darkness? The most important component to my healing was my greater desperation for God. Every time I lay in the floor cramping from an overdose of laxatives or my throat burning from vomiting every nutritious item, or contending the voices of what I’d allow myself to eat after denying myself reasonable food; I would cry out to God. I asked so many questions. And in every moment I knew He was with me. Then I had some mentors, who I will share in a future post, speaking His Word, praying with me and helping me to redirect into a healthy lifestyle. Finally, I got professional help. Yes, I write that with a little humor, but in all seriousness, it was an imperative element to my road of healing.

For these reasons, it is important for me to be mindful not to go under, nor to go over that four-pound weight range. It can be my slippery slope, which takes me back to the challenge, “How thin can I get?” And this isn’t about a number; it’s about being healthy.

And this is why I want to introduce a woman dear to my heart. She is the face behind www.heathersblessedjourney.com. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know if I’d have ever had the courage to get off the ground in this endeavor of writing.

I met Rhonda Lawes in August 2010. I wasn’t sure we’d know each other very long. I was in her Pharmacology class at The University of Oklahoma. Each day I prayed God would provide for me to be successful. Her class was by far the most challenging I have ever taken.

When reviewing our results after our first exam, I didn’t anticipate the highest grade, but with the notes I had taken and the amount of time I had studied, I expected a decent grade. You can imagine my disbelief when I saw a “72.” Professor Lawes didn’t know me well, but she read me like a book. I was barely holding the tears back. She encouraged, “Remember, this is the first test you’ve ever taken in nursing school. It’s different. Don’t judge your success on this first test.” Because of my grade, I was required to have a one-on-one meeting with her. The result of that meeting was a broader view, a different approach and ultimately a Bachelor of Science in Nursing.

I took away far more than a nursing degree. I stepped away with a woman who would become my mentor and my friend.

Shortly before graduation, Rhonda spoke into me with one question, “Have you ever thought about starting a blog?” I brushed it off almost as quickly as she asked. She nudged, “Well, pray about it. Take a few months to write and see what you come up with.”

Nine months later she came to my house and introduced me to this new world of reaching people by setting up www.heathersblessedjourney.com.

Rhonda was instrumental in my transformation from student to nurse. But she didn’t stop there. She continues still, investing into my life, challenging and sharpening me in areas I thought were incidental, but she identified as God given gifts, speaking and writing.

To watch her is to be impressed. She’s one of the most brilliant people, a published writer, a passionate professor, and still a learner, continuing on in her own studies to attain her doctorate degree. She’s even more compassionate. To know her is to love her as she genuinely cares and connects with students, patients and the numerous audiences she presents to. Not to mention, her outgoing personality, which blows all other characteristics out of the water. People love to be around her!

There’s so much to Rhonda Lawes.

Her latest journey touches my heart and inspires me to be a better me. And it’s not only her success that’s so inspiring, but that it’s another avenue for her to help others.

Rhonda had a similar battle with the scale. Some people would put our experiences in different categories, but they’re not. Both come from a place of desperation. Both are crying for help. Rhonda gathered the courage and changed her life.

“I’ll give this one more try. If this doesn’t work I’m just going to buy a bigger coffin. I can’t take one more failure,” were the words she shared with me after she set out on her journey. The example of strength was given the day she walked into the gym and hired a trainer. She had a ruthless pursuit for change, not just in the physical form but beneath the surface, desiring mental training too.

Talk about brave! This woman faced every insecurity, every potential for failure, every ounce of doubt, every instance of comparison, and she did it again and again and again!

Less than a year down the road, my amazing friend has dropped over ten sizes. She’s broke through the walls, like the one she hit nine months in at 100 pounds lost. Her training is lifestyle now. Real change; down a total of 130 pounds since she started. In the process of transforming her look into a picture of health and strength, her spirit has grown even stronger!

Every chance I get to spend with Rhonda Lawes leaves me feeling sharpened spiritually and intellectually.

I am inspired by her discipline, courage, strength and compassion, and I pray you are too!

I Timothy 4:8 NIV 

For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.

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Comfort in Support

Sometimes we get things we don’t even know we need. What a perfect topic to cover at Christmas. There are so many different gift-giving approaches. • There’s the giver who buys something for someone, because they mentioned how they needed it or wanted it. • There’s the giver who buys something because it’s an item the giver themselves loves so much and they just imagine the receiver loving it equally the same. • There’s the giver who wants to completely surprise the receiver with something they know the person needs, but maybe never asked for it or mentioned it.

I’ve been in all the above situations.

When it comes to Christmas or Birthdays, I love wish lists. Some people find it offensive, but I find it to be incredibly efficient! It’s seamless picking out an item you know your loved one really wants. And then to see them open it??? Well, that right there is absolutely fabulous! There’s such excitement and joy.

Then, there have been items I so much enjoy that I want to get them for people I love. Like PETALS Strawberry Pepper Jam (petals74429@yahoo.com), or a Bath and Body Works Eucalyptus Spearmint Candle, or a gift card for a pedicure. You know…some of those little indulgences we don’t always spend the money for ourselves?

I’ve been more on the receiving end of the last item in question. I think back to our wedding and to when we were beginning to have our babies. Yes, we registered; however, there were so many items we never knew we needed. But our loved ones sure did. And they gave them. Included were both treasured pieces and practical items; things I couldn’t have imagined going without.

While I’ve given gifts that I didn’t personally love, but gave because the receiver did; and while I’ve also given gifts from a wish list, there’s one in particular I specifically remember giving several years ago; it was one that was never requested, but I bought it anyway. My Dad-in-law is a homebuilder/remodeler, so I gave him a painting of Jesus as a boy, and his father Joseph the carpenter. Although he had never requested the piece, he was delighted to receive it. I feel I was the one to end up with the gift; for the memory, and for how my heart is touched every time I’m in his office and see it hanging on the wall. I bought it for him, not because he’s my husband’s father, but because of my own love for him and my own knowledge of those things dear to his heart.

Well, here it is, the time of year we put so much focus on gifts and I’ve received what Jesus knows is the greatest gift in my life, those most dear to my heart; people.

Everyone has struggles. There’s power in identifying them; then we don’t feel captive to them. And one thing I know about myself is I am a people person. Being around others inspires me, refreshes me and rejuvenates me. As you can imagine, having two surgeries within thirty days of each other really took me out of the loop. Like all the loops, my kids’ activities loop, my work loop, my church loop, my friends loop. It was kind of nice the first go around. I rested, I read, I caught up on all my favorite shows, but as I mentioned in “Why, Oh Why,” I hadn’t planned for this last procedure, so I wasn’t eager to sit around several weeks on top of already sitting around. Sitting. And laying. And sitting. And laying. Blah.

I’m very sensitive to the seeds of depression, because I’ve been there. And I know isolation is the growth media for depression. So having already a month of retreat, I felt the dread in my heart of having more. Everything in moderation. Right? We all need time of solitude, but too much of anything is not a good thing. Therefore, I shamelessly and somewhat pitifully invited, welcomed, asked, or maybe even begged for visitors and company; choose to insert whichever word to describe it, different moments appropriately apply. However, I believe it takes strength to identify our weaknesses, and it makes us even stronger to protect ourselves against them.

There can be such beauty in humility. Such value in vulnerability. Such fulfillment in openness. Although, I could have kept this next procedure quietly to myself, as I do some, I shared it and in return received the gift of what is written:

Philemon 1:7 Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my brother, for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.

The Lord uses people to GIVE-- whether it's wrapped or not, we get gifts so often. Those gifts of joy and comfort are just what I needed. It’s lonely sometimes. It can be scary. It feels painful. And I’m speaking to you, dear friend. I could write this for myself in my own little journal, without regard for sentence variety or structure, but I write this for you. Because you sometimes feel lonely. You sometimes feel scared and are in pain; all the many different types of pain. But I encourage you to find comfort, even if you have to ask for it.

This last surgery, my Aunt Donna walked into my hospital room with a symbol of comfort. It was Mouse! No, I’m not referring to the classy mouse who can so perfectly don polka dots and big yellow shoes, because you know how much The Meadows love that mouse too. But no, this was Mouse, the Puffalump Aunt Donna got for me when I was originally injured back in 1988. Mouse went with me to most of my surgeries. She’d sit at the foot of my bed when we’d roll back and she’d have a hat, a mask, and yes, sometimes even surgical booties. She was such a source of comfort to me. And having Mouse sitting in my hospital room this time, kept me thinking, “Wow! How far we’ve come. How much has changed.” “Just a stuffed animal,” one may be inclined to think, but I see a focal point, a focal point of comfort.

And then let’s talk about the people! Oh my! My precious husband, at my side; one tech sweetly described him as “hovering.” He’s so protective, and although he doesn’t don an outfit of armor, he is most definitely my knight. And the kids. Their world is so expanded by the experiences they’ve had with me as their mom. They were born into the story and although they’ve observed some unpleasant and even grotesque sites, I pray it’s been an advantage to develop them into the people God intends them to be. And my Mom and my Aunt, those women who have walked this very long road and still show no signs of weariness in their support and their pride for the survivor they desired me to become.

Bits of comfort walked through my door the next day. When I was mentally preparing myself to spend the day alone, as I knew my husband would have to be in the office and my children at school. God sent His gifts, my nursing school friend, Misty and her little boy Jeremiah. More followed: my friend, mentor and previous professor at OU, Rhonda Lawes, spending the afternoon with me sharpening me, challenging me both spiritually and intellectually.

Then my team! For a girl who has NO athletic ability, I love referring to my co-workers as my team, because we demonstrate qualities that make a team great, which in turn is not only vitally beneficial for our patients, but rewarding to us as friends. Carrie, Haley, Carly and Molly spruced up my day with gifts in hand and laughter of heart. Oh what comfort! What joy! As if the Lord hadn’t packed in enough comfort I so desired, my in-laws topped it off by bringing us dinner. My Dad-in-law observing how I was drifting off, mentioned how he felt it was time for them to go so I could rest. And I told him no, because although I could hardly stay awake, I just wanted to hear their voices. Comfort.

The next day, my precious friends Beverly and Michele, women I admire and feel strengthened just with their presence and conversation. Comfort. That afternoon, even my cousin, brought me my very first eggnog malt from Braum’s. Acts of comfort.

After coming home, I had a full week of meals provided from friends. Truly it was the hand of Jesus extended; meeting basic needs in the most personal way. And after a week of love poured out, my best friend, Amber of over twenty years came to take care of me. Even getting on to me, as any best friend would, for my determination to attend my co-worker’s wedding, an event I couldn’t miss for the deep admiration I have for her as a person, as a young woman, and as a nurse. Some moments just can’t be missed.

Not a day has gone by without a call from someone. And even several visits. Personal, come to my house kind of visits. People, I don’t live by anything. Not one person who came to visit, popped by on their way to run errands or Christmas shop, they intentionally came to visit. Like my precious, precious, dearest friend, Heather who shared an entire day, seriously, an entire day with me, right before she was suppose to be leaving for a road trip to Massachusetts. Comfort.

You may think I’ve named everyone. I haven’t. It’d be a book. And that’s just from this one procedure. This one procedure that I feel I’ve done a million times. In almost twenty-seven years, I imagined people eventually running dry on concern and compassion. I mean. It’s not like it’s life threatening at this point. It’s just another toggle mark on the count, another one under the belt. It’s an investment in furthering the immense quality of life I’ve been able to experience. But above all, what I've had the privilege of receiving is so much love; love which never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me.

We all may think we know what we want. We all may have an idea of what gift would benefit or suit us best. My lesson? Maybe we do sometimes. I’m so glad I opened the door for people to share love. I needed it. I needed to feel comfort and friendship and joy and laughter. If I had made a list, it would have had, “visitors and conversation” on it. God knew exactly what I needed and He has provided.

If you committed your time to read this post, please let the scripture take root in your heart. You may need to allow others to refresh you, and you may need to flat out ask for it. On the other side, you may be just what someone needs. Oh, it might seem like you’re not doing much by picking up the phone, but that conversation may be more timely than you could have thought or imagined.

Love. Joy. Comfort. Kindness. Refreshed. Those are gifts. On the list or not; those are gifts.

Philemon 1:7 Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my brother, for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.

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Why, Oh Why?

Last night I packed for a trip. I’ll be gone for three to five days. And while I know I’ll be taken good care of, I’m not too excited about going. But I grabbed items which bring me comfort and encouragement; my soft navy blue polar fleece blanket, I’ll take my pillow before leaving, and I packed three pictures from my house; one of our trip to Hawaii, one of our last visit to see Mickey, and one of us from last year taken at home by our fence. The photos help me focus on what I have, over what I’ve lost. Has their been loss? Immense. Has their been pain? Excruciating. But I’ve experienced a far greater portion of joy, peace and happiness. And that is what gripped my heart as I was pulling out of my doctor’s office last week after scheduling today’s surgery. Before my most recent surgery, I had a very small area of scar tissue tear on my back. This was a reoccurring problem after my injury during the rehabilitating years, and on into my adolescence as my body was growing from that of a child to an adult. However, this was a scenario I no longer anticipated having over twenty-six years later. Regardless, it had to be addressed, so when my surgeon came in to do surgical markings for the last operation, I asked him if we could have an “adder” and take care of that area. He examined it. He then informed me it would be more than a simple release of scar tissue. He said the dreaded words, “We need to do a skin graft.” Yuck. To say those are painful is a bit of an understatement. It’s surprising to some when I explain that it’s not even the area released which causes such discomfort as it is the donor site.

Addressing the issue is always more than the obvious. Having another surgery this year was not in this planner’s plan. It meant making arrangements for the kids, missing activities with them, along with all the holiday parties during my most favorite time of year, and, it meant regrouping my commitments at work. I was bummed. I was frustrated. I was disappointed. Those emotions came in to check quickly.

I left my doctor’s office, pulled out on Utica, stopped at the light, and began crying. Through my tears, I sang, “Thank you, Lord. I just want to thank you. I just want to thank you. I just want to take a little time right now, and say, ‘Thank you, Lord,’ for all You’ve done for me.” It’s a minor inconvenience to spend the last part of my year recovering from what is, yes, a highly unpleasant procedure, but not a complicated one with uncertain outcomes. This trip to the hospital and stay in the burn center won’t necessarily be fun, but it will all be okay. In consideration of this beautiful life God has provided me to live, it’s petty to complain about it, even to grumble about it in my own heart.

The “why such emotion and tears” thought may arise. Why cry? Why sob? It was out of my immense gratitude and deep conviction, because there were so many, many times I begged the Lord to allow me to die. I didn’t want to live a life in this body. I didn’t want to walk the road ahead of me. I didn’t understand why I lived and my brother died. I couldn’t imagine a future for me. I didn’t have life experience to help me reason it out, and even at that, I don’t know if I would have ever been able to find reason. I didn’t have coping skills to work through the physical, emotional and psychological trauma. I asked God, “Why?” I prayed prayers, “Please let me come to Heaven and be with you, let me see Jon. I don’t want to live here.” For years, I mean for years I prayed like this. What came out of it wasn’t pretty, but necessary. Much of what I felt, I internalized. Being the brave little girl was a role assigned to me early, and one I felt I had to uphold. Which is why an eating disorder was the outlet for me to channel my emotion privately. The path was ugly, depression was as real as the sun in the sky, but a light I couldn’t see.

But the uglier it got the more I cried out to my God. And the entire time, all those years, He was listening. All those years, all that time, He had a plan. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude that He didn’t allow me to die, not from the physical trauma of that tragic accident, and neither from the emotional wounds thereafter. No, He held me. He never let go. And He was speaking, “Heather, I have a plan, to prosper you and not harm, to give you hope and a future.” He was saying, “All things work together for those who are called according to My purposes, and my child, I have a purpose for your life.”

I am going on this trip today. I am going to be back in the place where it all began so many years ago. I’m going to stand in awe of what the precious people there did to save my life. I’m going to meet some new faces, learn some new names and thank them for caring for people like me, whose lives are forever changed, but whose lives are always worth living, because God is greater, His ways are higher and His plans are perfect.

In my distress I called to the Lord;

I cried to my God for help.

From His temple He heard my voice;

my cry came before Him, into His ears.

Psalm 18:6

NIV

*scriptures mentioned: Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28

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A Hurricane Hit

A catastrophic storm hit eight years ago today.  Complete devastation came upon the Gulf Coast as Hurricane Katrina made landfall.  Many remember August 29, 2005 because of the violent natural event that affected many cities, especially New Orleans. I remember that morning very well.  I was back in the burn center recovering from my sixth surgery within the previous five months.  My mom was staying with Brooklyn and Jaron, and we were on the phone visiting about the kids.  Mom told me I needed to turn on the news and see the coverage on this hurricane.   We concluded our visit and hung up.

Brandon was there with me and left the room somewhat abruptly.  He returned with our Pastor behind him.  I was slightly puzzled that our Pastor was with Brandon, because he had just been to visit and pray with us.  I quickly concluded in my mind that my Grandma Cochrane, my Dad’s mom, must have just passed away.  She had had a stroke the week before.  It seemed obvious that there was loss.

Brandon came to the right side of my hospital bed, Pastor Gary to my left.  I felt a hurricane hit my own heart when my precious husband informed me that my Dad died.  Floods of tears and complete disbelief.  My Dad was two weeks away from getting a pacemaker.  He physically appeared to be in better condition than he had previously.  But none of that mattered, because the fact is, he sat in that chair, at my own desk, in our office, speaking on the phone to a client who was also a dear friend from our church, and his heart stopped.  His life ended.  He was gone.

Gone was his boisterous personality.  Gone were his jokes.  Gone were his stories and his laughter.  His laugh alone would bring such joy to those around him.  And I cry today just thinking that its sound is fading in my memory.  No longer could I consult with him over investments, no longer could I pick his mind regarding finances.  He wasn’t just a phone call or desk away when business questions arose.  I’d never lift my eyes up to his tall stature again.  No longer would I wrap arms around his neck or kiss his face.  No more getting smoked playing cards or Monopoly.  No more long dinner conversations or prayers for our future.  My Dad was gone.

Moving on was so painful.  After Dad’s memorial service on Friday, Mom and I were back in the office the following Tuesday.  We had a company to maintain.  I found myself going about life, looking at other people driving on the road, buying their groceries, filling up their gas tanks, and wondering how they couldn’t feel that someone so special was no longer here on this earth; how they didn’t even realize the void.  Nothing even looked the same to me.  My perspective had changed.  And my identity was challenged.  Someone who had always been here, forever and ever, someone who made me and raised me and loved me, was dead.  I felt so alone.

And alone is just another description for grief.  Grief feels so lonely and so desperate.  It physically hurts to grieve.  It is that pit in the stomach that makes us literally feel nauseous.  When we cry and cry, our eyes are swollen, our nose is raw, and we seem to only pause in between, until the flood of sorrow rains again.

In this time the Lord comforted my heart with two gifts of peace.

One; my Pastor.  Even today in the sadness that accompanies my reflection on losing my Dad, I remember my Pastor sitting there at my hospital bed and all he said was, “Jesus.”  Over and over and over again he whispered the Name of Jesus.  When there were no words, there was His Name, Jesus.  Isaiah 9:6 tells us His Name is, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Two; the Word.  Shortly afterwards, I had friends and loved ones encouraging me to read James.  “Dig into a study on James, Heather.”  But the Lord led me to Job.

Job 1:1 tells us that Job was a great guy, he “was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil.” Job 1:8 the Lord brags on Job, telling satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” As you read in Job 1:9-10 you will see that satan suggests that Job’s faithfulness is only out of the blessing God has bestowed on him, and satan proposes that when calamity strikes Job that Job will curse God.  Job 1:12 God allows satan to have control over everything Job has, except “the man himself.”

Read Job 1:13-19 and take note of the phrases I have put in bold.

“13 One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 14 a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were grazing nearby, 15 and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”16 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The fire of God fell from the heavens and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”17 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”18 While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 19 when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”

Can you imagine???  Job can’t even process one bit of tragic information over the messengers interrupting each other to give him more!

But how does Job respond? Verse 20 tells us by falling to the ground in worship.  In verse 21 Job says, ““Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

This passage challenged me in my time of grief.  And my Pastor’s presence to whisper the sweet Name of Jesus brought peace.  Altogether, COMFORT.

Despite the disaster, He is there and He loves you.  He is enough, even when so much seems gone.

“If everything I had was lost

If everything I had was gone

If everything I knew was suddenly a fraud

And all I had was you holding on

Would it all be the same?

Could I find beauty in the pain?

Would I sing your praise?

Would I seek your face?

I raise my voice loud and sing

Tell them all what you’ve done for me

Even in my darkest days

I’m gonna sing your praise.”

Lyrics from Raise My Voice ~ Robbie Seay Band

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