I want to thank all of you for your support during these last weeks of difficulty-I guess I don’t know what else to call it. The end of life for someone is simply hard to watch and hard to endure. My next post addresses the subject of grief and the challenges of going on in the face of it. I put a few other posts on hold to discuss this life experience. It seemed more appropriate anyway.

I’m actually writing this on a plane as we travel back home. We took a few days away to just be before the Lord and be with each other. It was a working trip with some free moments attached to it. All I can say is… prayers were felt! I thank you deeply for your kind words of encouragement and the prayers that have strengthened us each and every day.

It is a wonderful thing to be part of God’s family where people genuinely care. Compassion is an outgrowth of love and we have been the blessed beneficiaries of both.

We now have the task of settling back in to normal life that feels very abnormal now. God is ever-present and has been the loving Father we know Him to be. However, we are still in “that place” and I’ll talk about it more in the post to come.

While we were gone, I watched the beautiful, vast ocean one afternoon. I became fascinated by the surfers. They are a patient group! They sat on their boards, in the still water, for long periods of time just waiting and watching. They were looking for the direction of the waves to swim towards and ride. Most of them could catch that wave and ride it all the way to the shore and then, go right back out again.

I thought a lot about grief being so much like that. Things are still and quiet and then a wave of emotion comes and I know I can either drown in it or ride to shore where it’s safe. However, being patient through the process is important…there is a time to mourn. But, there is always a safe place…always.

Thank you so much, once again! I love you all and pray that the God of all Grace meets you at the point of your need for He is our FAITHFUL SUPPLY!

See You in the Funny Papers-My Tribute to “Clyde”

*note-this is my personal tribute to my late (and great) father-in-law. It’s an open letter to him so forgive me, if I don’t use formal titles etc. He and I were never formal and I liked it that way. He was so many things to so many people but this is who he was to me and I certainly could never do him justice in these few paragraphs.

Dearest Clyde,

I only write this in letter form because I have no other way that comes to mind. This is all simply surreal. I don’t particularly like the world without you in it and it’s an odd and empty feeling. I’ve known you since I was nineteen years old-most of my adult life. Seven years later, when I married your son, I had no idea that I got two great guys in the deal-well, really three if you count Austin. Your moral code, work ethic and sense of honor and integrity reminded me so much of my own Dad-I guess that’s why you both got along so well. I always loved overhearing your conversations about fighting in Korea and, the laughter that went along with some of the stories, made me think you two got in a little trouble while you were there!

Your laugh is what I may miss most but there’s no way I could pick just one thing. Most people don’t know what our relationship was like because few really saw it. It was forged in the many days and nights while I was alone, with the kids, while Rodney was on the road preaching. Often, Ellen was gone ministering too and we were both alone. Since we were neighbors, you quickly became our safety net as you came over to check on us, have dinner, or take the kids outside for an adventure. Unfortunately for you, the “emergency repairman” title came along with it too! Oh, the many times I called you with a dead car battery, a clogged drain, a basement flood or some broken “this or that”. My favorite emergency was the infamous garbage disposal explosion. I had put an entire pan of rice down the disposal and it exploded like The Yellowstone Geyser! You and I waded through rice and water up to our ankles and you just laughed, took off your shoes and socks, and rolled up those khaki pants you always wore. I deserved a lecture but you never said a word-I’m still really sorry over that one!

I can still picture the countless times you walked through the back door, coffee cup in hand, saying, “Do you need anything boys?” From there our chats covered several topics and often, we’d vent to each other about things that always remained between us. Thank you for being a sounding board and a voice of reason since no one else would have, or could have, understood what it was like being the background to someone else’s foreground. Even though we’d have it no other way, there were still drawbacks that only we knew relative to our particular situations. I always felt better knowing you were there…now what am I supposed to do?

I remember one of our conversations about the things that matter in life. You told me your goal was to be a great Paw Paw and what I can say to that is… Mission Accomplished! More people should have goals like that; uncomplicated but everlasting. What memories you gave your three grandkids! I could never list them all but you know and they know and that’s all that really matters. You never needed applause or accolades…people that have great depth of character don’t. Your applause came in the squeals of Austin’s delight on the four-wheeler, the pride on Amy’s face as you taught her to shoot her first gun, and the pure pleasure of teaching Ashton to drive the junky “Buck Truck” at age ten! Your accolades came in the time you had with your family and your devotion was matchless. I watched intently as you hovered over your daughter’s bedside and we’ll leave it at that since you are joyfully together now…as it should be. You stood beside your son in ways that are indescribable-you built way more than just buildings. You cheered on your wife as she pursued her calling and by example, helped me do the same.

I could go on and on but the volumes I have left will forever remain in the torn and tattered pages of this wounded heart that I wear on my sleeve right now. You are not just one of the good ones; you are one of the great ones. Whenever you left my house, you always left your coffee cup and I’d wait until I had three or four before I return them. The other day, I found one of them in the back of a cupboard I was cleaning out…um, you’re not getting it back! I’ll keep it along with my fondest of all memories -what you always said when you left, “Well, I’ll see you in the funny papers.” I miss hearing that, I miss laughing over the Letters to the Editor in your hometown paper, I miss your orange paint on everything, I miss hearing the sound of your truck pulling in the drive, I miss your jokes, I even miss your singing…I guess you could say I miss everything.

This I know, there is a heaven and you’re there. You deserve your Crown of Righteousness and your Eternal Reward. You deserve to have no more sorrow, no more pain, and no more loss. You deserve the joy of being with your daughter, your loved ones and your Lord. You deserve it all and that’s my solace. As Ashton said, “Paw Paw had too much life to stay in that body”. I agree, as hard as it is to say, but I agree. I’m comforted in knowing that this goodbye isn’t forever but until then, please know that I love you and well… I’ll see you in the funny papers.

Love Always,

Joni

See You in the Funny Papers-My Tribute to “Clyde”

*note-this is my personal tribute to my late (and great) father-in-law. It’s an open letter to him so forgive me, if I don’t use formal titles etc. He and I were never formal and I liked it that way. He was so many things to so many people but this is who he was to me and I certainly could never do him justice in these few paragraphs.

Dearest Clyde,

I only write this in letter form because I have no other way that comes to mind. This is all simply surreal. I don’t particularly like the world without you in it and it’s an odd and empty feeling. I’ve known you since I was nineteen years old-most of my adult life. Seven years later, when I married your son, I had no idea that I got two great guys in the deal-well, really three if you count Austin. Your moral code, work ethic and sense of honor and integrity reminded me so much of my own Dad-I guess that’s why you both got along so well. I always loved overhearing your conversations about fighting in Korea and, the laughter that went along with some of the stories, made me think you two got in a little trouble while you were there!

Your laugh is what I may miss most but there’s no way I could pick just one thing. Most people don’t know what our relationship was like because few really saw it. It was forged in the many days and nights while I was alone, with the kids, while Rodney was on the road preaching. Often, Ellen was gone ministering too and we were both alone. Since we were neighbors, you quickly became our safety net as you came over to check on us, have dinner, or take the kids outside for an adventure. Unfortunately for you, the “emergency repairman” title came along with it too! Oh, the many times I called you with a dead car battery, a clogged drain, a basement flood or some broken “this or that”. My favorite emergency was the infamous garbage disposal explosion. I had put an entire pan of rice down the disposal and it exploded like The Yellowstone Geyser! You and I waded through rice and water up to our ankles and you just laughed, took off your shoes and socks, and rolled up those khaki pants you always wore. I deserved a lecture but you never said a word-I’m still really sorry over that one!

I can still picture the countless times you walked through the back door, coffee cup in hand, saying, “Do you need anything boys?” From there our chats covered several topics and often, we’d vent to each other about things that always remained between us. Thank you for being a sounding board and a voice of reason since no one else would have, or could have, understood what it was like being the background to someone else’s foreground. Even though we’d have it no other way, there were still drawbacks that only we knew relative to our particular situations. I always felt better knowing you were there…now what am I supposed to do?

I remember one of our conversations about the things that matter in life. You told me your goal was to be a great Paw Paw and what I can say to that is… Mission Accomplished! More people should have goals like that; uncomplicated but everlasting. What memories you gave your three grandkids! I could never list them all but you know and they know and that’s all that really matters. You never needed applause or accolades…people that have great depth of character don’t. Your applause came in the squeals of Austin’s delight on the four-wheeler, the pride on Amy’s face as you taught her to shoot her first gun, and the pure pleasure of teaching Ashton to drive the junky “Buck Truck” at age ten! Your accolades came in the time you had with your family and your devotion was matchless. I watched intently as you hovered over your daughter’s bedside and we’ll leave it at that since you are joyfully together now…as it should be. You stood beside your son in ways that are indescribable-you built way more than just buildings. You cheered on your wife as she pursued her calling and by example, helped me do the same.

I could go on and on but the volumes I have left will forever remain in the torn and tattered pages of this wounded heart that I wear on my sleeve right now. You are not just one of the good ones; you are one of the great ones. Whenever you left my house, you always left your coffee cup and I’d wait until I had three or four before I return them. The other day, I found one of them in the back of a cupboard I was cleaning out…um, you’re not getting it back! I’ll keep it along with my fondest of all memories -what you always said when you left, “Well, I’ll see you in the funny papers.” I miss hearing that, I miss laughing over the Letters to the Editor in your hometown paper, I miss your orange paint on everything, I miss hearing the sound of your truck pulling in the drive, I miss your jokes, I even miss your singing…I guess you could say I miss everything.

This I know, there is a heaven and you’re there. You deserve your Crown of Righteousness and your Eternal Reward. You deserve to have no more sorrow, no more pain, and no more loss. You deserve the joy of being with your daughter, your loved ones and your Lord. You deserve it all and that’s my solace. As Ashton said, “Paw Paw had too much life to stay in that body”. I agree, as hard as it is to say, but I agree. I’m comforted in knowing that this goodbye isn’t forever but until then, please know that I love you and well… I’ll see you in the funny papers.

Love Always,

Joni

I AM PRAYING! When such tragedy and disaster strikes, I feel so helpless. I'm sitting miles and miles away watching the unthinkable happen before my eyes. I cannot do one thing except the best thing...PRAY! God KNOWS what we cannot, can DO what we cannot, and MOVE where we cannot. There is no better relief plan than His.

People are dealing with loss on so many levels and it's hard to wrap my mind around it all. To think that someone gets up in the morning and later that day, their house is gone, their neighborhood is gone, and worst of all, people are gone. When I saw the parents gathering at that school, my heart ached. Imagine the terror of trying to get to your children through a tornado and breathlessly wondering if they're okay...some were not.

Where do we put these feelings? Isaiah 53:4 is a good start. "Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried." We can pray knowing God is faithful to His Word and will carry the sufferings of those affected by this devastating event. We can stand strong for those who are struggling in the most adverse of circumstances. I want them to know they are NOT alone!

I'm asking you to show what the family of God is like by leaving three words in the comment section...I AM PRAYING! I'd like to see hundreds of these messages of prayerful support to those suffering right now. We are moved with compassion for our brothers and sisters...and we are praying.

What exactly is a milestone and why is it supposed to be so special? I don’t know why my mind would wonder such a thing. I guess it’s because I’ve thought so much about this past weekend and I can’t stop thinking about it. My daughter graduated from Liberty University with a Master’s Degree in Human Services. This was, as they say, a milestone.

Another interesting fact about most milestones - they usually come with tears. It’s defined as a significant event but who determines what’s significant? Is there an unwritten social law that has listed what is seen as a milestone? We do seem programmed to notice certain moments in life…think about it. A child’s first steps is an event that warrants the video camera, calls to the grandparents, tears of joy and wonderment, and squeals of excitement. I know because I did all of the above! However, no one sees the first sleepless night, as the baby fusses and cries, as a moment to remember…oh, but I remember. Who bothers to record in the baby book when the little one surprises you with projectile vomiting that either goes all over you, the wall, or the car? I know because I had all of the above! All I can remember is wondering how that much could come out of one little baby.

Nonetheless, I guess milestones are celebratory occasions that mark something momentous. Such was this graduation. We were in the stadium watching and waiting for a glimpse of our daughter. Even though there were thousands of graduates, we were determined to see her. I was so focused on finding my daughter, out of all those students, that I wasn’t prepared when I finally saw her enter the stadium…it took my breath and the tears began to flow. Her dad and brother were waving and screaming her name as I was trying to speak but all I could do was wave .We were her fan club in the crowd…we always have been and always will be.

As she began walking in the processional to “Pomp and Circumstance,” the first thing she did was look up. We had text earlier to tell her the general location of our seats so she kept looking our way and finally spotted us. She broke out in a smile, waved and pumped her fists in the air to symbolize the victory in reaching this personal goal and then, kept walking. That was the killer…she kept walking and we kept cheering.

I was there for that milestone of seeing her first steps. While her dad was waiting on one end with his arms open, I was holding her hand and let go. She started wobbling but kept her balance and did it! She walked right into her dads waiting arms. She kept walking and we kept cheering.

After so many milestones and moments, here I was watching her take her first steps into the future that was waiting with open arms. She’s been a student for twenty years and it had finally come to an end. There was a certainty in that for me and thereby, a safety too. Now I was the one wobbling.

I heard very little after I saw her walk in. I thought and thought and thought some more. Sure this was a milestone, but life with my daughter has been filled with so many moments that every day felt like a significant event. There were times I looked at her and felt like the only mom in the world.

So many of the firsts our kids experience become some of our lasts. Every first means a parent is needed just a little less or a little differently. So it’s the moments in-between the milestones that are the ones that matter most. Those are the times when kids look up or look our way and need to see us cheering as the greatest fans of their lives. That’s when they need a bigger hand to hold, during uncertain times, and to know when it’s safe to let go. More importantly, it’s in these moments they need to see us doing the same thing by showing that our Heavenly Father waits for His children with open arms. He is, after all, a parent too.

Well, I have to face it. Another chapter has closed but I’ll never forget that day. I'll never forget that smile when she looked up and found us, and those steps she kept taking while we kept cheering…what a moment.