Ok. So. I'm really bad at this blogging thing, apparently. I don't know when my next post will be, but I can say that I will write much more than the few lines I am now posting.
Night, night!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Sunday of Rest
The weather here in DC has been lousy and Tony is just finishing midterms. So, we made a decision to stay home today and worship here. We listened to a sermon on line after sleeping until 2pm. Yes, I said 2pm. It was fabulous. I actually feel rested and ready to take on the week. My rested feeling isn't just physical, it is also emotional. Finally, I feel like I am moving away from the grief and anger that has encompassed me this week. Or, maybe it has been surrounding me for a while now, building with each recent loss. At any rate, I feel peaceful, rested.
I have a feeling Tony is going to drag me off to bed soon, but I wanted to pose this thought: what do you need to do to heal? What do you need to do to find peace and rest? Do what you need to do.
Oh, and I promise that I will finish filling you in this week on what has gone on over the last few months.
Roll On.
I have a feeling Tony is going to drag me off to bed soon, but I wanted to pose this thought: what do you need to do to heal? What do you need to do to find peace and rest? Do what you need to do.
Oh, and I promise that I will finish filling you in this week on what has gone on over the last few months.
Roll On.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Maybe I Should've Stayed Off the Computer
Last week, I signed off after writing half a blog to watch The Amazing Race. It's one of my favorite shows and I try not to miss it. During a commercial break, Tony asked me to sign on to look up something. I did and couldn't resist checking my Face Book page in the process (I'm totally addicted!). What I found has kept me spinning ever since...to the point that I didn't even finish catching you up on what's been going on for the last three months.
A dear friend was killed on October 9th in a cycling accident in Mississippi on the Natchez Trace. He, another friend and I were known as the Triumvent (can't spell!), a fancy name for three musketeers. I am the only one left of the three of us. The other guy, Devereaux, died during Christmas week of 2007. Calling Dev's wife, Nora, to tell her about David's death was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't like to be the bearer of bad news and this was especially hard given how close our friendships had been. She and I bawled like babies on the phone together. I know it must have felt like loosing her husband all over again on some level. Some of my best memories of the 90s are sitting at Nora's kitchen table doing political strategy work with David and Deveraux.
Robert Fulghum has written that dress parades such as weddings, funerals, christenings, etc., bring out all the worst behaviors in us all, especially among family members. David's death has been no exception. David went through a very acrimonious divorce several years ago, right about the time I was falling in love with and marrying my husband, Tony. David was engaged to be remarried early next year to the love of his life, Cindy, who is crushed. I'm crushed for her. David was happier than I've ever seen him when he with her. At any rate, the ex-wife has managed to make all of this all about her. She's playing the grieving widow. Talk about lack of respect and an unwillingness to put the past in the past.
David's son called me to tell me about the funeral arrangements and we laughed and cried together about his Dad the good times we'd all shared. Less than 2 hours later, I received an email from the ex-wife (she found me through FB...it's a double edged sword, sigh) informing me that I was unwelcome at "her husband's" funeral because she didn't want me there.
I wrote back and quietly let her know that we had no intention of attending because of work and school schedules. I also expressed my sympathy for her children and David's fiancee. I finished the email by also expressing my shock that she had inserted herself into a series of events that really had nothing to do with her beyond her role as the mother of grieving adult children. I summarily received a phone call from the same son with whom I'd laughed and cried just the day before. He basically threatened me with bodily harm if I came within 100 feet of Cindy, him, his siblings, or mother ever again. I could hear his mother coaching him in the background. Tony didn't take well to this, so they would also be well served to leave me alone as well.
I'm not sure who I feel worse for: his parents because they've lost their only child, his fiancee because she's caught up in all this, or the kids because they've lost their dad and are trying to balance grieving with dealing with their narcissistic mother.
We live in a fallen, broken world and things happen.
I'll miss my friend. I'll miss his laughter and infectious zest for life. It's one more reason to be excited about Heaven.
I promise to fill you in on the rest of the last three months later. That's just what's gone on this week. Drama and tears and such. I'm done with it.
Sleep well, sweet prince.
A dear friend was killed on October 9th in a cycling accident in Mississippi on the Natchez Trace. He, another friend and I were known as the Triumvent (can't spell!), a fancy name for three musketeers. I am the only one left of the three of us. The other guy, Devereaux, died during Christmas week of 2007. Calling Dev's wife, Nora, to tell her about David's death was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't like to be the bearer of bad news and this was especially hard given how close our friendships had been. She and I bawled like babies on the phone together. I know it must have felt like loosing her husband all over again on some level. Some of my best memories of the 90s are sitting at Nora's kitchen table doing political strategy work with David and Deveraux.
Robert Fulghum has written that dress parades such as weddings, funerals, christenings, etc., bring out all the worst behaviors in us all, especially among family members. David's death has been no exception. David went through a very acrimonious divorce several years ago, right about the time I was falling in love with and marrying my husband, Tony. David was engaged to be remarried early next year to the love of his life, Cindy, who is crushed. I'm crushed for her. David was happier than I've ever seen him when he with her. At any rate, the ex-wife has managed to make all of this all about her. She's playing the grieving widow. Talk about lack of respect and an unwillingness to put the past in the past.
David's son called me to tell me about the funeral arrangements and we laughed and cried together about his Dad the good times we'd all shared. Less than 2 hours later, I received an email from the ex-wife (she found me through FB...it's a double edged sword, sigh) informing me that I was unwelcome at "her husband's" funeral because she didn't want me there.
I wrote back and quietly let her know that we had no intention of attending because of work and school schedules. I also expressed my sympathy for her children and David's fiancee. I finished the email by also expressing my shock that she had inserted herself into a series of events that really had nothing to do with her beyond her role as the mother of grieving adult children. I summarily received a phone call from the same son with whom I'd laughed and cried just the day before. He basically threatened me with bodily harm if I came within 100 feet of Cindy, him, his siblings, or mother ever again. I could hear his mother coaching him in the background. Tony didn't take well to this, so they would also be well served to leave me alone as well.
I'm not sure who I feel worse for: his parents because they've lost their only child, his fiancee because she's caught up in all this, or the kids because they've lost their dad and are trying to balance grieving with dealing with their narcissistic mother.
We live in a fallen, broken world and things happen.
I'll miss my friend. I'll miss his laughter and infectious zest for life. It's one more reason to be excited about Heaven.
I promise to fill you in on the rest of the last three months later. That's just what's gone on this week. Drama and tears and such. I'm done with it.
Sleep well, sweet prince.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Coming up for air
My Goodness! It's been a while.
Right after my last post in July, I was hired by Freedomworks, the national sponsor of the 912 March (check out www.freedomworks.org). My job was to manage the 400 people who signed up to volunteer for the March as marshals, runners, gophers, medics, etc. To say the least, I've been a little busy. :) My last day there was towards the end of September and I have been either sleeping, doing housework, writing thank you notes, interviewing or just plain staring off into space. Oh, and let's not forget TETRIS.
At any rate, it has been quite the ride over the last three months. I probably should have sold tickets and would have if I had known at the outset how things were going to be. I wouldn't have traded one single second of it. Not one. Not for anything.
It all started quite innocently, as most things of consequence do. I heard about the March, that it was going to be in DC and that they needed help. So, I went a step beyond filling out the on line information. I called the Freedomworks office and spoke to Nan. She asked me to come in and meet with her and a guy named Brendan. So, a few days later, I did. I told them that since I was in the area I wanted to be involved in any way I could be useful. When they found out that I had experience with managing volunteers and logistics, I saw a look pass between the two of them and a "Eureka" sense sort of flashed through the air. That was a Thursday. I moved into my office that same afternoon, took the next day (Friday) to get things in place here at the house, and then on Monday, Lucy and I hit the ground running.
The first decision: what to call me. I was too old, technically, to be an intern so they settled on the title of Fellow. I liked it. Tony told me not to call myself a "good fellow" for obvious reasons. Sheltered little me had to have it explained to her. Sigh. If you're as clueless as I was, check out the Godfather movies. Things should be pretty clear after that.
I went around chirping, "I'm gonna be a FELLA!" I'm sure the whole office wondered exactly who had taken up residence in the office down the hall. My little dog and I fit in quickly and pretty seamlessly with the rest of the team. In spite of my wackiness, they couldn't have been more welcoming.
Then came the baptism by cyber fire. For the first few days, we just couldn't seem to get my internet access going so I could communicate with the rest of the office. It's apparently a rite of passage for all newcomers at FW.
All finally synced and the work piled on. Not only was I fielding volunteers, I was helping people find out how to arrange transportation from their area and such things. I met some of the coolest people.
You know what? It's time for The Amazing Race. The rest of the story will just have to wait until later.
Roll on.
M
Right after my last post in July, I was hired by Freedomworks, the national sponsor of the 912 March (check out www.freedomworks.org). My job was to manage the 400 people who signed up to volunteer for the March as marshals, runners, gophers, medics, etc. To say the least, I've been a little busy. :) My last day there was towards the end of September and I have been either sleeping, doing housework, writing thank you notes, interviewing or just plain staring off into space. Oh, and let's not forget TETRIS.
At any rate, it has been quite the ride over the last three months. I probably should have sold tickets and would have if I had known at the outset how things were going to be. I wouldn't have traded one single second of it. Not one. Not for anything.
It all started quite innocently, as most things of consequence do. I heard about the March, that it was going to be in DC and that they needed help. So, I went a step beyond filling out the on line information. I called the Freedomworks office and spoke to Nan. She asked me to come in and meet with her and a guy named Brendan. So, a few days later, I did. I told them that since I was in the area I wanted to be involved in any way I could be useful. When they found out that I had experience with managing volunteers and logistics, I saw a look pass between the two of them and a "Eureka" sense sort of flashed through the air. That was a Thursday. I moved into my office that same afternoon, took the next day (Friday) to get things in place here at the house, and then on Monday, Lucy and I hit the ground running.
The first decision: what to call me. I was too old, technically, to be an intern so they settled on the title of Fellow. I liked it. Tony told me not to call myself a "good fellow" for obvious reasons. Sheltered little me had to have it explained to her. Sigh. If you're as clueless as I was, check out the Godfather movies. Things should be pretty clear after that.
I went around chirping, "I'm gonna be a FELLA!" I'm sure the whole office wondered exactly who had taken up residence in the office down the hall. My little dog and I fit in quickly and pretty seamlessly with the rest of the team. In spite of my wackiness, they couldn't have been more welcoming.
Then came the baptism by cyber fire. For the first few days, we just couldn't seem to get my internet access going so I could communicate with the rest of the office. It's apparently a rite of passage for all newcomers at FW.
All finally synced and the work piled on. Not only was I fielding volunteers, I was helping people find out how to arrange transportation from their area and such things. I met some of the coolest people.
You know what? It's time for The Amazing Race. The rest of the story will just have to wait until later.
Roll on.
M
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Is Value Lost in Translation?
WOW! It's been 18 days since I posted. As usual, things are happening very fast here in DC and it's hard to keep up and to not get lost in the shuffle.
Health care is the hot topic right now and I've been following the developments closely and attending hearings on the Hill. Frankly, I'm not liking much of what I'm hearing. Universal health care is a good idea in principle, but it is very tricky to work out in real life without someone getting the short end of the stick.
Before we go any further, let me say this: Yes, I have read the WHOLE bill. THE WHOLE THING! ALL 100+ pages of it!
My eyes are tired and I need new glasses, but I did it. It made for some really "interesting" reading. I felt almost as if I were reading an early 20th century writing from someone in Germany about eugenics. Rather than focusing on healthy life styles and treatability of various conditions and diseases, it's all about cutting costs. It's all about illegal aliens getting free health care at tax payer's expense. It's all about the government telling doctors how to practice medicine. They will be forced to do procedures that are against their consciences and, I might add, against the meaning of The Hippocratic Oath to which every physician ascribes. It's about end of life issues that should be left up to God, like when a person is going to die. It's alarming stuff.
The President stood up in front of an open meeting with the AARP and stated that much of what has people, especially senior citizens and people with disabilities, alarmed has been lost in translation. What does this mean? Does this mean that the legislation was written in some sort of code that only the people that wrote it understand? Does this mean that those same people think that Americans are so trusting that they will swallow anything the government throws at them? What does it mean?!
To me, when something is lost in translation, it means that it was spoken in one language and when rewritten or spoken in another language some of the meaning is lost. It does not mean that the words suddenly take on different meanings in the same language depending on the audience.
All sorts of things get lost in translation. My husband and I loose stuff in translation with each other all the time. I speak Female and he speaks Caveman. We have our share of misunderstandings but are able to work through them with God's help and a choice to not let it fester when there's a splinter in the skin of US.
There is a provision in this bill that would create a regulation within socialized medicine, including what is already Medicare/Medicaid, that a person who is chronically ill, disabled, or elderly will be interviewed every 5 years to determine if they need to commit suicide. It says "counseling sessions" will take place. In plain English, it means that if you are too expensive to maintain, you will be helped to end your life whether you want to or not.
Getting back to the President's little conference. After being asked point blank what that section meant, he hemmed and hawed and admitted that he'd not read the legislation. This from a man who promised to post all pending legislation on the internet so everyone could read it, understand it and advise their Congressmen how they wanted them to vote.
After hemming and hawing some more, he said something along the lines of this: I really think this has been misunderstood. End of life issues are directives such as a living will, power of attorney, and the like.
Excuse me?
It says in plain English (they didn't even try to dress it up with political speak) that the counseling sessions will happen and what will be discussed. It doesn't use the word euthanasia, but it does discuss assisted suicide. It also discusses rationing health care and people besides you and your doctor making decisions about your health care and, ultimately, your life.
I am very proud of the Republicans and Blue Dog Democrats who have stood firm and not allowed the bill out of committee to the House floor for a vote. Hopefully, this will be the case until the gavel is down for the August recess. If the Congress votes the way that Mrs. Pelosi and Mr. Obama want them to, there will be a revolt in the ranks and the midterm elections of 2010 will be UGLY. People, once they truly understand what is in this legislation are going to be furious and vote to replace those who voted for it with better representation.
The bigger thing lost in translation here is the value of every life that comes into being. Everyone has something to contribute and something to teach. The elderly are to be honored and listened to. They are to be cared for, not discarded as useless millstones. Those with chronic illness should not be put to death because they are sick. Find a cure...or a way to treat the illness so they can get on with their lives. People who are disabled may communicate differently, they may move differently or they may not see things visually as others do. Still, they have something to offer. The focus of our health care system should be on promoting health lifestyles and treating diseases as they come up. A child shouldn't be euthanized because of being born with a disability. The parent shouldn't be sterilized because they fathered or gave birth to a child with a disability.
The Founding Fathers of this country understood that life was precious in all its forms. The founding documents of this country include statements like, "the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." They believed in a culture of life, not expedience or survival of the fittest. To this day, those concepts that are available to be read in black and white, braille, or on line are still clearly understood. The meanings of their words and the values they espouse have not been lost in translation or changed over time.
So, then, how is it that a piece of legislation can be misunderstood when the words are in plain English? Could it be that the meaning hasn't been lost in translation and this change that the majority voted to adopt in November of 2008 is not what it was thought to be? Was something that was misunderstood in the first place? Or are blind eyes being turned to the reality of what that change means? Are we choosing to loose the translation?
All I know is this. Every single person ever created has some sort of value. The question asked should be "what does this life have to offer, no matter how large or small?" The question should NOT be "how much is it going to cost to sustain this life?" The government's job is to protect its citizens, not kill them when they get too expensive.
It is a matter of perspective, not a translation problem.
Health care is the hot topic right now and I've been following the developments closely and attending hearings on the Hill. Frankly, I'm not liking much of what I'm hearing. Universal health care is a good idea in principle, but it is very tricky to work out in real life without someone getting the short end of the stick.
Before we go any further, let me say this: Yes, I have read the WHOLE bill. THE WHOLE THING! ALL 100+ pages of it!
My eyes are tired and I need new glasses, but I did it. It made for some really "interesting" reading. I felt almost as if I were reading an early 20th century writing from someone in Germany about eugenics. Rather than focusing on healthy life styles and treatability of various conditions and diseases, it's all about cutting costs. It's all about illegal aliens getting free health care at tax payer's expense. It's all about the government telling doctors how to practice medicine. They will be forced to do procedures that are against their consciences and, I might add, against the meaning of The Hippocratic Oath to which every physician ascribes. It's about end of life issues that should be left up to God, like when a person is going to die. It's alarming stuff.
The President stood up in front of an open meeting with the AARP and stated that much of what has people, especially senior citizens and people with disabilities, alarmed has been lost in translation. What does this mean? Does this mean that the legislation was written in some sort of code that only the people that wrote it understand? Does this mean that those same people think that Americans are so trusting that they will swallow anything the government throws at them? What does it mean?!
To me, when something is lost in translation, it means that it was spoken in one language and when rewritten or spoken in another language some of the meaning is lost. It does not mean that the words suddenly take on different meanings in the same language depending on the audience.
All sorts of things get lost in translation. My husband and I loose stuff in translation with each other all the time. I speak Female and he speaks Caveman. We have our share of misunderstandings but are able to work through them with God's help and a choice to not let it fester when there's a splinter in the skin of US.
There is a provision in this bill that would create a regulation within socialized medicine, including what is already Medicare/Medicaid, that a person who is chronically ill, disabled, or elderly will be interviewed every 5 years to determine if they need to commit suicide. It says "counseling sessions" will take place. In plain English, it means that if you are too expensive to maintain, you will be helped to end your life whether you want to or not.
Getting back to the President's little conference. After being asked point blank what that section meant, he hemmed and hawed and admitted that he'd not read the legislation. This from a man who promised to post all pending legislation on the internet so everyone could read it, understand it and advise their Congressmen how they wanted them to vote.
After hemming and hawing some more, he said something along the lines of this: I really think this has been misunderstood. End of life issues are directives such as a living will, power of attorney, and the like.
Excuse me?
It says in plain English (they didn't even try to dress it up with political speak) that the counseling sessions will happen and what will be discussed. It doesn't use the word euthanasia, but it does discuss assisted suicide. It also discusses rationing health care and people besides you and your doctor making decisions about your health care and, ultimately, your life.
I am very proud of the Republicans and Blue Dog Democrats who have stood firm and not allowed the bill out of committee to the House floor for a vote. Hopefully, this will be the case until the gavel is down for the August recess. If the Congress votes the way that Mrs. Pelosi and Mr. Obama want them to, there will be a revolt in the ranks and the midterm elections of 2010 will be UGLY. People, once they truly understand what is in this legislation are going to be furious and vote to replace those who voted for it with better representation.
The bigger thing lost in translation here is the value of every life that comes into being. Everyone has something to contribute and something to teach. The elderly are to be honored and listened to. They are to be cared for, not discarded as useless millstones. Those with chronic illness should not be put to death because they are sick. Find a cure...or a way to treat the illness so they can get on with their lives. People who are disabled may communicate differently, they may move differently or they may not see things visually as others do. Still, they have something to offer. The focus of our health care system should be on promoting health lifestyles and treating diseases as they come up. A child shouldn't be euthanized because of being born with a disability. The parent shouldn't be sterilized because they fathered or gave birth to a child with a disability.
The Founding Fathers of this country understood that life was precious in all its forms. The founding documents of this country include statements like, "the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." They believed in a culture of life, not expedience or survival of the fittest. To this day, those concepts that are available to be read in black and white, braille, or on line are still clearly understood. The meanings of their words and the values they espouse have not been lost in translation or changed over time.
So, then, how is it that a piece of legislation can be misunderstood when the words are in plain English? Could it be that the meaning hasn't been lost in translation and this change that the majority voted to adopt in November of 2008 is not what it was thought to be? Was something that was misunderstood in the first place? Or are blind eyes being turned to the reality of what that change means? Are we choosing to loose the translation?
All I know is this. Every single person ever created has some sort of value. The question asked should be "what does this life have to offer, no matter how large or small?" The question should NOT be "how much is it going to cost to sustain this life?" The government's job is to protect its citizens, not kill them when they get too expensive.
It is a matter of perspective, not a translation problem.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Simply Wonderful
It's just after 2:30 on Sunday AM as I write this. I'm all wound up but need to go to bed. The weenie dog is here beside me sleeping peacefully and Tony is in the shower.
I took stock of my life today. God has been good to me. I have a wonderful apartment in a great city...the neighborhood could be a little safer, but I know that God is protecting me at all times...and I know how not to be take stupid chances or put myself in danger. We have a great church that we love and where we are loved and shepherded. Tony is doing well in seminary and has been able to work many extra hours this summer at his job that is part time during the school year. I am slowly making a new circle of friends but still missing my two best friends: one in NYC and one from childhood (Kindergarten, believe it or not) who now lives in Montgomery, Alabama. The visits are few and far between.
I do still need a job. I've got a great lead and am in process, so I won't talk about it too much here. Let's just say that it is tailor made for me.
We are living on a shoe string, but our bills are paid. We are eating...mostly hamburger instead of fillet mignon, but it is nutritious.
We have had many cheap, if not free, dates this Summer because there is always something to do or see here in DC.
We have a life without drama. No family drama, no work drama, no school drama. It's wonderful.
We're both reasonably healthy. Enough said.
We're in love with each other after 7 years of marriage and still LIKE each other, too.
Mostly, though, we serve a great big God who has redeemed us through His Son, Jesus and has filled us with the Holy Spirit.
Yep, life is simply wonderful.
I took stock of my life today. God has been good to me. I have a wonderful apartment in a great city...the neighborhood could be a little safer, but I know that God is protecting me at all times...and I know how not to be take stupid chances or put myself in danger. We have a great church that we love and where we are loved and shepherded. Tony is doing well in seminary and has been able to work many extra hours this summer at his job that is part time during the school year. I am slowly making a new circle of friends but still missing my two best friends: one in NYC and one from childhood (Kindergarten, believe it or not) who now lives in Montgomery, Alabama. The visits are few and far between.
I do still need a job. I've got a great lead and am in process, so I won't talk about it too much here. Let's just say that it is tailor made for me.
We are living on a shoe string, but our bills are paid. We are eating...mostly hamburger instead of fillet mignon, but it is nutritious.
We have had many cheap, if not free, dates this Summer because there is always something to do or see here in DC.
We have a life without drama. No family drama, no work drama, no school drama. It's wonderful.
We're both reasonably healthy. Enough said.
We're in love with each other after 7 years of marriage and still LIKE each other, too.
Mostly, though, we serve a great big God who has redeemed us through His Son, Jesus and has filled us with the Holy Spirit.
Yep, life is simply wonderful.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
8, er, 10 days a week!
Last time I wrote, I'd just found out about the suicide of a friend's daughter and attended the visitation. It was a painful afternoon. Blogging about it helped, but I have to admit that I was still hurting for my friend and her family. Also, I was quite concerned about the funeral. Would the pastors who were officiating be honest, or would they sweep the ugly truth under the rug in favor of platitudes?
An aside here: it was not a funeral, but a memorial service. There is a distinct difference; the terms are NOT interchangeable. At a funeral, the body is present in a casket. A funeral is followed by a burial, which may or may not be open to nonfamily members. A memorial service is held without the presence of a body in a casket. The burial has either already taken place before the service or the body has been cremated.
Christy's memorial service was such a blessing to be a part of. Two of the pastors from our church officiated, and they were clear about the fact that Christy committed suicide and the events that led up to it. They were clear about the fact that suicide is not the unpardonable sin, nor is it a worse sin than any other sin. The Gospel was presented in such a way as to be easily understood. I was proud of Christy's Mom and sister for their insistence that the truth be not hidden. I was even prouder of my pastors for the sensitive, compassionate and truthful way they addressed those present. It was truly a holy moment.
Perhaps the most moving part of the service, at least for me, were the eulogies give by Christy's Mom and her twin sister. Becky shared in a way that only a sister can and gave us much insight into the person that was her lifelong best friend. Claudia shared other stories that gave us insight into the pain that a parent experiences when they know their child is walking the path that Christy walked. There was much laughter among the many tears shed.
Christy herself shared at her own funeral via letters and journals that she left behind. What a poignant inside into this precious young woman's tortured but beautiful mind. I wish I'd truly known her.
After the service, the family received visitors in the lovely fellowship hall at the church. The food was provided by the church and the ladies of the church hostessed all of the guests. It was a blessing to see the church supporting the family in this way.
Claudia continued to be true to herself and allow the tears to come when they wished rather than stifling herself. Becky was the same. I was proud of them both. I was even prouder of how much those around them reached out in comfort.
At the reception, I began to understand how healing happens. It sneaks in quietly in little moments. I began to see some purpose in this tragic circumstance. I had the honor of sitting around with Christy's friends and assure them that yes, the pastor was telling the truth...suicide is no worse than any other sin. It is covered by the shed blood of Jesus like any other. They were eligible to be covered by that blood if they would embrace the gift of Christ's salvation. It was amazing news to several of them.
The memory of the day that stands out the most for me, though, was my time with Becky, Christy's twin sister. She'd obviously been wrung out emotionally and I went into protective "big sister" mode. I stayed close while her husband greeted people and helped her Mom.
At first, I was in my wheelchair and Becky, who is tall, was crouched down beside me talking. Then, she sat down on the floor. She looked so comfortable that I decided to join her on the floor. Lucy took advantage and hopped into my chair. Tony came in from changing his clothes for work to find the dog in the wheelchair and two sniffling women on the floor, sitting Indian style. The conversation, the setting, the tears, the normalcy of girl talk while sitting casually...they all led to a beginning of healing. That is how God works...in little moments, not just in big grand happenings.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of meetings with the tax attorney (yep, we're being audited, but almost have it resolved), grocery shopping and celebrations of July 4th. I tried to take it all in, but found myself again focusing on the little moments that made up the larger chunk of time.
It's late and I'm tired, but I want to close with one final thought: Don't miss the small moments. It's when God's still small Voice often speaks the most clearly.
Rolling Along....
An aside here: it was not a funeral, but a memorial service. There is a distinct difference; the terms are NOT interchangeable. At a funeral, the body is present in a casket. A funeral is followed by a burial, which may or may not be open to nonfamily members. A memorial service is held without the presence of a body in a casket. The burial has either already taken place before the service or the body has been cremated.
Christy's memorial service was such a blessing to be a part of. Two of the pastors from our church officiated, and they were clear about the fact that Christy committed suicide and the events that led up to it. They were clear about the fact that suicide is not the unpardonable sin, nor is it a worse sin than any other sin. The Gospel was presented in such a way as to be easily understood. I was proud of Christy's Mom and sister for their insistence that the truth be not hidden. I was even prouder of my pastors for the sensitive, compassionate and truthful way they addressed those present. It was truly a holy moment.
Perhaps the most moving part of the service, at least for me, were the eulogies give by Christy's Mom and her twin sister. Becky shared in a way that only a sister can and gave us much insight into the person that was her lifelong best friend. Claudia shared other stories that gave us insight into the pain that a parent experiences when they know their child is walking the path that Christy walked. There was much laughter among the many tears shed.
Christy herself shared at her own funeral via letters and journals that she left behind. What a poignant inside into this precious young woman's tortured but beautiful mind. I wish I'd truly known her.
After the service, the family received visitors in the lovely fellowship hall at the church. The food was provided by the church and the ladies of the church hostessed all of the guests. It was a blessing to see the church supporting the family in this way.
Claudia continued to be true to herself and allow the tears to come when they wished rather than stifling herself. Becky was the same. I was proud of them both. I was even prouder of how much those around them reached out in comfort.
At the reception, I began to understand how healing happens. It sneaks in quietly in little moments. I began to see some purpose in this tragic circumstance. I had the honor of sitting around with Christy's friends and assure them that yes, the pastor was telling the truth...suicide is no worse than any other sin. It is covered by the shed blood of Jesus like any other. They were eligible to be covered by that blood if they would embrace the gift of Christ's salvation. It was amazing news to several of them.
The memory of the day that stands out the most for me, though, was my time with Becky, Christy's twin sister. She'd obviously been wrung out emotionally and I went into protective "big sister" mode. I stayed close while her husband greeted people and helped her Mom.
At first, I was in my wheelchair and Becky, who is tall, was crouched down beside me talking. Then, she sat down on the floor. She looked so comfortable that I decided to join her on the floor. Lucy took advantage and hopped into my chair. Tony came in from changing his clothes for work to find the dog in the wheelchair and two sniffling women on the floor, sitting Indian style. The conversation, the setting, the tears, the normalcy of girl talk while sitting casually...they all led to a beginning of healing. That is how God works...in little moments, not just in big grand happenings.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of meetings with the tax attorney (yep, we're being audited, but almost have it resolved), grocery shopping and celebrations of July 4th. I tried to take it all in, but found myself again focusing on the little moments that made up the larger chunk of time.
It's late and I'm tired, but I want to close with one final thought: Don't miss the small moments. It's when God's still small Voice often speaks the most clearly.
Rolling Along....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)