Christmas Letter - Our Year in Review

So, it's that time again.... Christmas.  I wanted to start things of with a nice poem:

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through my place
Were boxes and packages, wrapping and tape.
The stockings are hung by the TV with care
In the hopes that their contents soon would be there.
The children were snuggled all warm in their beds
While I work to finish my shopping instead.
For this one a kerchief, for that one a hat
Oh please, let me finish 'cause I need a nap!
Then up in my head there rang such a clatter
"Is any of this stuff what really matters?"

No.  It's not.  Jesus is what matters.  So, before you read the rest of our year in review, take a minute and focus on the message sent from heaven to you.  And don't feel bad - I've had to remind myself of this message several times in the past week.  Including tonight.  Twice.

---

This has been an incredibly trying year for us (again).  For those who don't know, my mom passed away back in January.  On my birthday.  Not only did I struggle with her death, but the events were so incredibly similar to Michell's death (4 years ago) that it rekindled that grief in me.  Like Michell, mom died from complications with Leukemia less than a week after her diagnosis.

Fortunately, God is still taking very good care of me.  He continues to bless me daily in all areas of my life.  At work, I found out this past summer that I had successfully achieved tenure at Tennessee Tech, which significantly reduced my stress level.  At home, the slow metamorphosis of the house continues.  The latest project is the installation of a train atop the kitchen cabinets.  My original goal was to finish it before Christmas, but that deadline has been changed to New Years.

I am also blessed to be daddy to Rachel and Zoe.  Rachel (9) is in 4th grade, and really doing well.  She continues to love singing, and is taking informal voice lessons.  She got to be in both a school production and the childrens' choir at church - and love every minute of both.  She's also becoming a big help to me around the house... without too much complaining, even.

Zoe (5) is still in preschool.  Her late October birthday means that she will be almost 6 when she starts Kindergarten next fall, but that's probably good because her attention span is very - SQUIRREL! - short.  Her favorite thing to do is just about anything that lets her sit in my lap... and I love it.  It is hard to imagine how bad my withdrawal is going to be when she stops wanting to do that.

This year's highlight has to be our family vacation to the beach this summer.  It was awesome!  Maybe someday I'll get around to putting the pictures in a photo album or something.  I only have 340...

As we said in our card, we pray that you are enjoying your Christmas holidays with friends and family.  We send blessings and wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Being There is What Matters

I had a very stressful afternoon.  No, not correct - I had a very stressful 15 minutes this afternoon.  But God took care of me (like He always does). 

If you didn't know, Rachel was a flower girl in a friend's wedding today.  That wasn't stressful - they took care of almost everything.  They bought the dress, they did her hair, they took care of her so well that I really didn't have to do much. 

What was stressful was 15 of the 17 minutes before the wedding started.  Why was it stressful?  Because I almost wasn't there.  I had dropped Rachel off early to get ready with the bride & bridesmaids, and went back home with Zoe.  Our plan was to start getting ready about 45 minutes before the wedding and be there at least 15 minutes before the start.  That plan never happened.

I could make lots of excuses - good excuses.  With my shoulder pain, I've not been sleeping well this week, and I fell asleep while waiting for my get-ready alarm to ring.  I had also accidentally set the get-ready alarm for 2:15 AM, instead of PM, so it never rang. 

Here's how my stress started - I woke up and checked my watch... 2:43 PM.  Wedding starts in 17 minutes.  I'm in jeans and a t-shirt, Zoe is equally casual.  It takes 12-15 minutes to drive to the church, depending on traffic. 

SET STRESS LEVEL TO MAXIMUM.

God helped me so many ways.  Zoe got undressed and came down to the car half naked so that I could throw on her dress - I've never seen her get undressed faster.  I threw on a dress shirt with my jeans - a great dress shirt was right in front in my closet.  We got in the car and left.  On the way, Zoe said "Daddy, I don't have on shoes," - God had caused us to leave some dress boots in the car earlier today, so she wore those.  All the way there, I kept praying out loud, "God, please let us get there on time.  Please make this car/van/truck in front of me go faster.  Please let us get there on time.  I don't want to miss Rachel."  Over and over, out loud.

We got there and parked, I picked up Zoe and RAN through the rain.  (If my doctor is reading this, I'm sorry for carrying her - I know I'm not supposed to pick her up right now because of my shoulder, but I had to do it).  We got into the building, and the doors to the chapel were still open.  The groom's mother was still standing in the foyer.  We made it. 

We were escorted in, and sat in the row behind my pastor's wife and all the teachers from Zoe's preschool.  I felt embarrassed - I had to apologize for my attire and the fact that I was out of breath from running.  Someone looked at me and said, "You're here.  That's what matters."

SET STRESS LEVEL TO... ZERO.

There are some things in our lives that only happen once.  This was Rachel's first, and possibly only time to be a flower girl.  Yes, it was awful that I was almost late.  Yes, my attire was way too casual for a wedding.  But in the end, I was there.  Being there is what matters - not all the stress and issues that arise along the way.  I'm so glad that God helped me to get there in time.  I am so glad that I was there.

Oh, and in case you couldn't guess... Zoe looked super cute in her heart dress, and Rachel was the best, most beautiful flower girl ever.  I know... I was there.

Spiritual Lessons... from swimming?

Last week, I finally returned to my habit of swimming for exercise.  Between the Christmas holiday and then dealing with mom's illness and death, it had been about 2 months since my last swim - and last week I really felt it.  As I get back into the groove, I've discovered some truths that apply not only to my exercise routine, but also to my spiritual life.

If you want to succeed, set reasonable, achievable goals.  Last fall, when I decided to start swimming again, I wanted to set a goal to push myself enough that I got real exercise.  Scholarship-level college swimmers can usually swim a mile in ~20 minutes.  This is not a reasonable, achievable goal for a 41 year old, out-of-shape me.  I started with the goal of building up to a half mile swim within 2 months (made it in a month) and then set a new goal of < 20 min for a half mile by the end of the school year. (achieved for the first time today).  Now I am setting a new goal of regularly swimming a < 20 min half mile.

Spiritually, we need the same kind of game plan.  When Michell passed away 3 years ago, my personal Bible study habits were (I'm ashamed to admit) nonexistent.  I had great church-going habits and good service/outreach habits, but no personal study habits at all.  I know they needed to be better, but I had always set UNreasonable, UNachievable goals that frustrated me to the point of not trying anymore.  You know the drill - I would hear a message about reading the Bible daily, decide to change, and set a goal of reading my Bible for 30 minutes every day (for the rest of my life!).  UNachievable - even things we normally do every day we miss occasionally: we get sick, we go on vacation, etc.  UNreasonable - to go from 0 minutes a month to 30 minutes a day instantly?  Well, God certainly can make such changes happen instantly, but more often He helps us to make small changes daily.

I have finally succeeded by setting better goals - I bought a page-a-day devotion book with postcard sized pages.  I set a goal of reading the 1-page devotion 5 days each week.  It was a ~5 min commitment with some "free pass" days.  I didn't have to be perfect, and if I missed a day it didn't feel like total failure.  That has built over time to bigger and bigger goals, and now I try to read a full chapter and study the margin notes that go with that chapter.  I still keep to the 5 days a week part - I often read more than 5 days each week, but if I miss a day it's not a failure, it's still a goal met.

That voice that says "You can't" is usually lying. My first day back in the pool, I thought I was going to die about halfway through.  I was tired.  I was sore.  I wanted to quit.  I rationalized: I hadn't swum in a while, I would eventually get back to my norm, I should just stop.  But I decided to try and do a little more.  Before I knew it, things seemed to get easier.  Not easy, but easier.  I finished my half mile, and began to wonder how often I give in to temptations to sin like I almost gave in to the temptation to stop short of a half mile swim.  How many times do we give in just before it's about to get easier? 

When we get tired, we tend to get sloppy.  When teaching swimming lessons, the first part of the lesson usually focuses on getting the details right - how to cup your hand, what path to pull your arm, how to kick your feet.  It's important to practice and focus on these before you get tired, so that (hopefully) as you get tired you will still do them correctly.  We, or at least I, tend to get sloppy with my strokes as I get more tired.  I don't focus so well, and so my kick gets ragged, my arms flail, and I don't hold my had in the best position.  Consequently, I waste energy and don't go as fast as I could. 

Similarly, when I get tired, I tend to have more difficulty with sin.  Most obvious to me, I get angry more quickly, and tend to snap at people for little things that normally wouldn't bother me.  Just ask Rachel - I tell her "Daddy's tired, do you know what that means?" and she says "It means I may get in trouble for stuff that's normally OK, so I should be extra good." 

Less obvious, but perhaps more important, I tend to give in to temptations more.  Areas that I struggle with become more of a problem when I am tired.  I make poor choices and don't always follow through with disciplines that I have developed to keep me away from past sinful behaviors.  It just reinforces the need for me to develop good, Godly habits when I'm not tired, so that when I am tired I don't tend to deviate from them.

Motivation... where have you gone?

Haven't posted for a few days, partly because Zoe has been sick and partly because I haven't known what to post about.  Grieving for mom has been very different than grieving for Michell was, which shouldn't surprise me.  I think the biggest issue I am having since losing mom is a total lack of motivation to do... well... almost anything.

In general, I'm a fairly lazy person, and at best a crisis-centric, last-minute worker.  "Never put off to tomorrow what can be put off to next week," I say.  But I still do (usually) get things done.  I may not pick the best times (note the near midnight timestamp on this post), and I frequently stop at "good enough" rather than working all the way to "done", but I do eventually get stuff done.  But right now, I'm just not motivated to do anything.

This happened before, right after Michell died.  Then, I chalked it up to being tired from all the new responsibilities I had to deal with.  But now, I am beginning to recognize it as an expression of my grief.  Michell used to have a list (an extremely detailed, never ending list, but I digress) of things for us to work on, and when she was gone I was without a clue about what I should be doing - especially after the kids were in bed.

As I slowly got back into doing things each evening, my mom became the person that I would call to tell of tasks completed.  Talking about those things with her seemed to give them more meaning, and that is now lost.  I mean, really, who can I call to tell them that I got the laundry put away?  Not exactly noteworthy...

And so, for the past few weeks, I have simply been sitting down each evening and doing nothing.  "I just sit, sit, sit, sit.  And I do not like it, not one little bit."  Or maybe I do like it... just a little.  I just don't like the sink full of dishes, or the Christmas decorations still out, or... or... or...

And the lack of motivation does not limit itself to household tasks, it also seems to impact my social life (or lack thereof).  I was in the habit of going to lunch with friends fairly often, and haven't recently.  I haven't looked for a place to watch the Superbowl yet, because I'm just not motivated to go.

Fortunately, I know it's not permanent.  I am a social creature, and will eventually want to get out again.  I will find motivation to get things done around the house again.  I will not let grief become depression, nor will I allow it to become an ever-present excuse.  But at this moment, motivation is missing. 

Funny thing is, I never saw my mom have a lack of motivation.  She worked all day every day getting things done.  When I had big things to do, I would often call and ask for her help, not because I really needed help doing, but because I needed her "let's keep working until it's done" attitude.  Ironic, isn't it.  I'm grieving my "workaholic" mother by being a "lazy-bum" son.

Finally read my mail...

So, I opened my mail tonight.  Now, many of you are thinking... "So?  I do that every day.  What's blog-worthy about opening your mail?"  Well, let me try and explain.

You see, I usually open my mail about once a week.  I don't get that much each day, and given that most of the time I spend with my mail involves the pre- and post-opening activities, it's much more efficient to wait until the stack is of reasonable size before opening it.  Let's be honest, there's just not much that comes in the mail that can't wait a few days - if it was that urgent, it wouldn't come in the mail to start with.

But the past month has been anything but "usual."  With mom's time in the hospital and death, I just never got around to it.  I would see the pile continue to grow each day, but wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to open it.  So it sat... until today.

It was an interesting read.  I started by dividing it into 3 categories: sympathy cards, tax info, and other mail.  Most of the "other" mail was bills (don't worry, all my bills are auto-paid, so nothing was late).  Not much unexpected there.  The tax info was... well.. tax info.  It's now filed and waiting for the rest to come in.

The sympathy cards were the biggest part, and the most interesting.  If you've ever worried about finding "the right card," quit worrying.  I can tell you from experience that the most important thing is the return address.  What?  Did you read that right?  the return address?!?  Yes.  The return address.  You see, what matters most is that people took the time to let you know they cared and are praying.  And you find out who those people are by the fact that they sent a card at all. 

The second most important thing is the quick note written inside.  I can't speak for everyone, but I rarely read the "official" (pre-printed) words in the card.  There are only so many sympathy cards out there, and duplicates are almost inevitable.  In addition, there are no "perfect words" that can be said.  What matters is that you took the time to write something just from you, not from the card company.  It doesn't even have to be a whole sentence, just a word or two is enough.

The end of the card pile was especially interesting.  About 2/3rd of the way through, I ran into a couple of birthday cards, which was nice.  Then, as I got to the very end, I ran into Christmas cards.  Some were actually "New Years" cards, and some were the late coming cards that I hadn't opened yet.  That was really nice.  It's always fun to read Christmas cards.

So, as I look back, I think this was probably a really boring post.  No deep thoughts, no new revelations.  Just an excessively long status update.  But, I've already typed all this, so I'll post it anyway.

Oh, and for those of you who sent me a card... thanks.

Waiting for the Right Time

Had a good day today.  Shopping at WalMart, time at dad's house while Rachel was at a friend's house, shopping at Lowes, and some work around the house late in the afternoon.  Got lots done - much more than is normal for me.  It's like I have to prove that I can still accomplish tasks without mom around.  She was always so much more motivated than me to get things done.

In fact, today at dad's house, I had to keep stopping myself from starting certain tasks.  You see, I remember how much better I felt after I would go through some part of the house and re-organize it.   

Several times within an hour, I wanted to start going through the drawers in one of the bathrooms at dad's house - to go through and pull out all the stuff that doesn't need to be there anymore.  I wanted to change that small part of the house to reflect mostly dad instead of mostly mom.  But I stopped myself.  And that was a good thing.

You see, it took me several months to get to the point that I was ready to do that with Michell's stuff.  And dad has to come to his own decision about when he is ready to go though mom's stuff.  She was my mom, but his wife.  He is the one who has to live in that house, and he is the one who has to make decisions about when and what he wants to cull.

So, I'm waiting.  Waiting for the time when dad is ready - when he either cleans it out himself or asks someone for help with it.  Waiting for him to be (more) at peace with both his loss and his life.

He'll get there.  Just like I did.

What I really want to say is... zzzzzz

I cannot believe how tired I was yesterday and am again today.  It's not a lack of sleep - many have asked, and I am sleeping well.  I have not needed any medications, rather I have been able to go to bed around my normal time (1130p) and get to sleep before midnight.  I have been able to sleep until at least 6 and usually 7. 

I think I am simply exhausted from the stress of the past 2 weeks.  The week mom was in the hospital, I was home with a very sick little girl (no stress from either of those, right?).  Then this week had all the stress of making decisions regarding mom's services. 

I also had a monumental challenge the past 2 evenings.  While she was here, Michell's mom Sandra did a bunch of laundry for me.  This was extremely kind of her to do.  Unfortunately, along with the girls' laundry bins, she mixed in a bin of clothes which were clean and had been set aside to put away for summer... and she mixed in a bin of clothes which were new from Christmas that I hadn't looked at enough to know what shirts go with what pants.  It was like dumping 20 puzzles together, all of which are solid red, and trying to sort out what pieces go where.  My family room floor still looks like a laundry war zone. 

Funny thing, the laundry challenge was what made me miss mom the most.  I am... shall we say... fashion-sense challenged.  Those of you who have known me a long time might remember the bright yellow shirt and bright red shorts I used to wear together.  Very Ronald McDonald.  Whenever clothes came back that I didn't know how to match, I would call mom.  And she could magically pair things up over the phone - without even seeing them!  Just another example of how she took care of me.

She would be proud of me, though.  It took me about 3 hours the first night, but I finally got Zoe's stuff matched up.  Then Rachel and I, with an hour on Skype with Sandra and 2 more hours together, got 75% of her stuff matched up last night.  Quite an accomplishment for the fashion-challenged me.  I do, however, still have 6 pairs of pajama pants missing their tops.  Anyone need some?

So if you see Rachel or Zoe (or me, for that matter) in an outfit that makes you cringe, just remind yourself that the girls are stuck with me, and let me know so that I don't embarrass them in public... or at least so I don't embarrass them that way.

Take Pictures of the Everyday

Yesterday, my sister and I spent about half a day going through pictures to use in a slide show of mom.  I already knew that mom didn't much like having her picture taken, but what I didn't realize is how often I let her get away with that.  There were even a few years where the Christmas pictures had me and my kids, Steph and her kids, and dad... but no mom.  What were we thinking?

But the more glaring thing that I realized is that while I am pretty good at getting pictures of events, I am lousy at getting pictures of the everyday.  As I went through my pictures, I found that since moving back to Tennessee in 2005, I have more pictures of Michell's parents than of my own.  Why?  Because when we saw Michell's parents, it was an event; we saw my parents every week, so that was just everyday life.

The good thing is that between Stephanie and me, we found plenty of pictures of mom - really good ones.  But from here on, I plan to carry a camera with me more often on "normal" days, so that I can capture more of our everyday life.

Finding A New Normal... Again

I thought this blog was essentially dead.  I had pretty much stopped posting here, probably because I didn't have the need for it.  Life was going well - joyful and fulfilling.  With less struggle, 10-second Facebook posts were more the norm than deep, introspective blog posts.  And then...

Most of you alreday know.  Mom passed away.  One week with her "not feeling good" and then a week in the hospital and then... home to heaven.  And the similarities to Michell's death just 3 years ago are overwhelming.  Both started out thinking it was just a muscle pull.  Both ended up in the hospital with bad bruising and extreme pain.  Both diagnosed with leukemia.  Neither surviving to start chemo.  Both having cerebral hemmorages leading to death.  I can still remember telling myself that this time (with mom) was going to be different.  Not so much.

Oh, and by the way... Worst. Birthday. Ever.  That's right, if you didn't know, mom died on my birthday.

So now I sit at home, and at times the silence is so incredibly LOUD.  I can feel how quiet it is.  It's opressive.  The girls are both in bed, both sleeping well.  The TV is off.  And I miss calling to talk to my mom.  It's one of the things that I started doing right after Michell died - I would call mom every night.  I doubt I missed 10 nights in the past 3 years.  Recently, the call had moved earlier to right after I got the girls in bed.  Last week, it emphasized that mom was in the hospital - she wasn't at home for me to call.  Now, that one simple daily phone call seems to stand for all that is wrong with the world today.  I can't talk to my mom.

I know it will get better.  I've been down this road before.  God promises to change mourning into dancing and sorrow into joy... and He does.  It's happened in my life over the past 3 years, and I know it will happen again.  I know that I will find a new normal... again.

But at this moment, I'm just hearing the overwhelming silence, and wishing I could call my mom.

Doing Hard Things

Been thinking alot lately about my personal discipline. It's not all that great, to be honest, and I want it to get better. But let's be honest, sitting on the couch thinking about having better personal discipline (while eating chips, drinking a soda, and watching TV) really doesn't get you very far - it's about actually getting up and doing something that matters. I know myself very well - for years my mantra has been "never put off to tomorrow what can be put off until next week." Admittedly not the best example to set for my girls...

Life is busy - we all know that - and it can run you down. By the time I get the girls to bed at night, I am frequently worn out and ready to check out for some down time. Is that wrong? No, I don't think so. So what's my problem? Once I start to check out, I never check back in. I sit to rest, but my rest period doesn't end until bedtime. So now I am challenging myself to get back up and do something... and it's hard.

So I heard this "do something hard" phrase a few months ago. I think it was a mother-daughter event that some friends of mine attended. I kept seeing that phrase over and over, and decided that I would adopt it into my own life. It's strange what we think of as being "hard" to do - most of my stuff is really minor, it's just stuff I don't like to do so I try to put it off until it takes care of itself (my success rate in this area is very high).

For example, I don't think it's wrong to leave the dishes in the sink until there's enough for a full dishwasher load. (Remember - we use paper plates and cups almost every meal, so it takes 2-3 days for us to accumulate enough dishes to fill the dishwasher.) I do, however, think that it's wrong to leave the dishes in the sink and hope that my babysitter decides to wash them for me because they're taking over the kitchen and leaving her in fear for her life.

So how am I doing? Pretty well on Focus #1. I've not been in the best health over the past few years - 4 surgeries (ruptured colon repaired, colostomy reversal, gall bladder removed, hernia repair) - plus my weight has gone back up in the 230s - so I decided to first focus on getting healthier. I've started swimming 1/2 mile 3 days a week, and that's going well. I've chosen to not have an evening snack more than one night a week, and that's going well. But now it's time to add another Focus and do more hard things.

So what about you? Are you doing hard things? Or are you living life on autopilot? Are your (proverbial) dishes piling up, waiting for someone else to handle them? Then join me - and do something hard. So far, it's been worth it.

Moments that Make a Daddy

Had one of those great moments this morning - a moment to make a daddy. Some of you are thinking "What? Doesn't having kids make you a daddy?" No, not really. Just "having children" means you performed the biological function of procreation. Being a daddy implies an intimate relationship, made complete by the presence of joy, care, and love. I became a father (twice over) as my children were born. I am becoming a daddy as I nurture, love, and raise my children.

And while the process is continuous - each and every moment with my children is an opportunity to move closer to (or further from) "daddy" - I also find that there are key moments that come along and allow leaps forward. Some of these moments we know are consequential, like the day I had to tell Rachel that her mommy died. Others seem completely inconsequential, just a part of everyday life... like today's

So what was it? What was this EVENT which helped propel me from "father" in a giant leap toward "daddy"? Well... I cam upstairs to tell Rachel it was time to get dressed for camp, and she said, "Oh, man. I'm thirsty. You didn't give me a drink." My response? I pulled out my "obviously-pretending-to-be-angry" voice and said, "I didn't give you a drink? What do you mean? You never asked for a drink! And you know that when you get breakfast you can get yourself a drink..." Oh, and I was tickling her the whole time. She was laughing so hard she couldn't stand up.

So how do I know that this was one of those quantum-leap events? Because every time I stopped, she asked again and egged me on to do it again. And what do I think of it? I think that for those 5 minutes this morning, I achieved near God-like "daddy" status. And it was awesome.

Speaking of God-like, you do realize that God is more than just "Father" - He is also "Daddy". I think too often we get caught up in the "Our Father" image of God and forget the "My Daddy". In Mark 14:36, Jesus calls to God as "Abba Father". "Abba" is a term that implies intimacy, closeness, and familiarity. And the use of that term is not reserved for Christ alone, Romans 8:15 tells us that we too can call to God in this way.

There are countless articles on the web about the origin of Abba - most tie it back to a term borrowed into Hebrew from Aramaic. What strikes me the most about this term is its construction - it's a word a baby can say. Just like my girls both used to babble "dada" when they were babies, so too could an baby - one who is totally helpless and dependant on others for its care - babble "abba".

So, as we walk through this life, we can babble "Abba" and connect with the Creator of the universe, and like I did this morning, He can work through everyday moments to take quantum leaps from "Our Father" to "My Daddy". And that is truly awesome.

Are your bells ringing?

Been reading my way through Exodus lately. I'm past the plagues-and-escape part, past the giving of the 10 Commandments, and working my way through the instructions for the temple. A few nights ago, I read the instructions for creating the prestly garments (Exodus 28). Now, let's be honest. This is one of those chapters that when, or maybe I should say if, we read it, we just blow through it at warp speed because it seems useless today. Why should I care? I doubt I'll ever wear an ephod (v6) - probably woudln't recognize one if I saw it - so what possible relevance could this have?

And yet, according to 2 Tim 3:16, "All scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in riteousness." As I finished reading the chapter, and was reading through the sideline notes in my Bible, I was remined of something I'd heard before.

Going back to Exodus 28, down in verses 31-35, there is a discussion about the hem of the robe of the ephod. And while I still have no real clue what an ephod is, I do know what the hem of a robe is. And this particular one has bells on it - gold bells.

Now, let's be clear. Sideline notes and my fuzzy recollections of past events are NOT the same as scripture - one is a living document of truth and love, given by God through the Holy Spirit, while the other is... always questionable. But for me, right now, the relevance of this passage was revealed through that note and my memory. It had to do with the purpose of the bells, and both the note and my memory agreed - one purpose was so that when the High Priest was in the Holy of Holies, you could tell if he was still alive.

You see, in Old Testament times, God's Spirit didn't live in hearts like He does today. Back then, to be in God's presence meant death - people were just too sinful to stay alive in His presence. The High Priest went through a week-long purification period (see Exodus 29) before heading into God's presence to make sacrifices for the people. When they went in to perform the scarifice, others could listen from outside for the bells - if they were ringing, then everything was ok (the High Priest was still alive).

Another fact in my (often questionable) memory is that they would tie a rope to the foot of the high priest, so that if the bells stopped ringing, they could pull him out. Yikes.

Yeah, I know, none of that seems relevant yet. We're not living under the Old Covenant (i.e. in Old Testament times), we're under a New Covenant - one of grace and forgiveness because of Christ's sacrifice for all. But God still desires for us to be holy - set apart - riteous... He does NOT want us to sin, and He especially doesn't want us to fall into repetitive sin.

So, looking back at the title of this post, I ask myself the question: Are my bells ringing? And I candidly admit to you that this has been a bad month for me. Patterns of sin from my past, patterns that I have cast off (many times) only to have return (also many times) have once again reared up in my life, and my bells have been silenced often of late. I'm talking about that sin that "so easily entangles" me (see Hebrews 12:1), and I am again fighting to cast it off. Even as I write this, I am frustrated with how often it has overcome me lately, but at the same time I am not defeated - I am instead rededicating myself and trusting God to give me strength to overcome.

So what about you? Are your bells ringing?

What are you worth?

A few weeks ago, I was listening to the radio in the car when a discussion started about how valuable a person is. One of the central issues was salary. Are we what we make at our jobs? Is our contribution to society defined by how much that society is willing to pay us for what we're doing? As the discussion continued, some spiritual principles were hinted at, and a few were partially explored. I arrived at my destination before the discussion ended, so I don't know where it ultimately went, but it did get me thinking...

At the simplest (and most worldly) level, our society does define our worth by our salary. In this crazy world we live in, we value entertainment over learning, and so pay professional athletes more each year than teachers can make in a lifetime. We reward those who can turn "situational ethics" into personal gain, while sneering at the "free" but unparalleled contributions of stay-at-home moms.

As Christians, however, we are part of another (spiritual) society with its own set of rules. Here, Christ has turned the world upside down... reminding us that to be great, we must become servants (Mark 10:43). In fact, it could be argued that in our spiritual society, by ourselves we have no value at all! Consider John 15:5. Here Christ exhorts us to remain in Him, because by ourselves we can do nothing.

But this passage can weave a subtle trap for the unwary. How often the Devil has come and called us "worthless". How many times has the Evil One broken hearts and spirits, convincing people that they are of no value to God or to others? How many have fallen into a pit of darkness and despair, wanting only to be valued and to feel they are valuable?

But there is a great difference between the condemning statements from our Enemy and the redeeming plan of our God. God desire for us to be connected to Him, living in concert with His Spirit, following the path made possible by the sacrifice of His Son. God chose us (Eph 1:3-14) - chose us to be holy (1:4), chose to adopt us as His children (1:5), chose us for His praise and glory (1:11-12), and as a sign of our choosing, and He has given to us His Holy Spirit (1:13).

Going back to the worldly view, our value in society is based on what someone is willing to pay us for our work - in essence, who wants us and how badly they want us. How much does God want us? You can probably recite it with me... "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son..." (John 3:16).

And what is He willing to pay us? How about with direction, joy, and pleasure forevermore? (Psalm 16:11) In addition, part of His "pay" lets us ignore the whispered condemnation of the Enemy. "Whoever believes is not condemned... (John 3:18). So if the Devil says you're worthless, you know it's a lie. You want more? Maybe even a bonus check? How about this - one of many examples - back in Eph 1:3, we are promised "every spiritual blessing in Christ."

So what are you worth? In a nutshell, you're worth so much that the Creator of the Universe crashed through time and space to make a way for you to be with Him... forever.

More than the "fairy tale"

Been watching romantic comedies lately (I know, I know...). They're all about the same: lovable loser guy meets awesome girl, connection begins. Obstacles arise, leading to comedic moments, then romantic resolution supplies fairy tale ending.

Problem: the movies always end where the real work begins. The phrase "I want the fairy tale"
has been ringing in my head lately - I think it's from Pretty Woman, but can't be sure because I never saw that movie. It sums up what most people think they're looking for - riding off into the sunset - happily ever after - the fairy tale ending.

Not me, though. I want way more than the fairy tale ending - I want the fairy tale to be just the beginning. You ask, "What do you mean?" I answer, "Great question! Thanks for asking!"

Too many times, we get our idea of what a great relationship is supposed to be like from the things we see on TV, at the movies, or read about in books. But few (if any) of these relationships ever show the real work that goes hand-in-hand with marriage-level love. Real, God-inspired, loving relationships require openness, honesty, trust, forgiveness, and commitment. They require daily sacrifices of self in favor of other and "us".

I know this because I've lived it. I know this because I've helped other couples who were having trouble in their marriage. Most of all, I know this because I have read the Bible and seen the example of God's love through the actions of His Son.

So if you're like me, praying for God to bring you together with "the right one", make sure you're asking for the right thing - not just the fairy tale, but the full sacrificial package - and get ready to do the work required. And if you're feeling frustrated because your fairy tale has slipped away, you might need to change your thinking. Godly marriage is about the best thing you can ever experience here on earth, but it's very different from what the movies are selling...

Merry Christmas!

Trying something a little different this year - it's amazing how much work and time it took to print, fold, and stuff letters, so now I've gone digital. Hope you don't mind. But really, if you mind, you probably didn't come here to read what I'm typing. So on with the letter

This has been a good year for us. Zoe continues to grow up so fast, though it looks like she'll have her mommy's height (or lack thereof). She's so very articulate - yes, I just used that big word to describe how well a 3-year old speaks. At her preschool, they did a review of her development. It asked if she used 2-3 word phrases/sentences. Zoe talks in paragraphs - multiple 7-10 word sentences that are coherent together. She's amazing. And more than that, she makes me laugh.

Rachel is also growing up. She has developed an affinity for performance - just this month she's had a main part in two different productions. She was one of the main characters in her school performance (Christmas at the OK Corral) and was in a duet at church in the Christmas program. She's also smart as a whip, making the "All Es" honor roll at school. Fortunately for her, the handwriting grade doesn't count. Let's just say that her handwriting is less than perfect.

The year has also been good for me. I had my colostomy takedown in March (read here: all my internal plumbing is now reconnected and functioning normally). During the recovery from that surgery, I also managed to get an inflamed gall bladder, which was then removed. My plan is to be out of the surgery mode for a while now. Not that I'm ungrateful...

Our big family event this year was a week at the beach during the summer. My sister (with her 2 kids) and I (with my 2 kids) rented a beach house in NC and spent the week. It was great! There are some pics on my Facebook page, which you can find from the link on the right.

We are well adjusted to life without Michell. It hardly seems like it could be two years since her death, but God continues to bless us in amazing ways. Zoe has slowly begun to realize who her mommy is (from pictures), and frequently mentions "my mommy in her white dress," referring to Michell in her bridal portrait. Rachel still has times when she mentions missing her mommy, especially during the Christmas season, but these are minor moments only, and are becoming rare. We have a fairly regular household schedule, and while I don't try to pretend to be a mommy, I have gotten a reasonable handle on all the "typical mom" things that are now my responsibility. I do pray that God will bless me with another opportunity to love and marry, but trust in His plan and His timing.

So, that's our brief update. We hope this letter finds you and yours deep in God's blessings, and that you have a safe, joyful Christmas!

Steven, Rachel, and Zoe Click

Be Thankful for "Lifers"

Been reconnecting with some my lifers lately - I am so thankful for them! What's a "lifer"? That's what I call a friend that remains true throughout your life. One of those handfull of friends with whom time and distance never matter, you can always pick right back up with never a snag. You know, the ones you can call at 2 in the morning and not have to apologize when you start the conversation.

So, why have I been reconnecting? Because my lifers are a great source of Godly counsel. They help me figure things out when I can't solve it on my own. The past few days have been especially cool, because God has used several of them in shifts, each one's advice and info adding to the prior to give me a fuller picture than any one could individually. How cool is that!

What a treasure my lifers are! They know many of my hidden faults and fears, but can look past them and still accept and care about me. They never force their ideas or advice on me, but their insight never ceases to amaze me - an amazing blend of their God-inspired wisdom and their understanding of who I reall am that frequently cuts to the heart of the matter.

Just in the past few days, I have reconnected with three of my lifers, including my longest-term lifer and the wife of my newest-term lifer couple (it's early in the relationship, but I'm pretty sure they're going to be lifers). The interactions have made me realize just how awesome these friends are to me, and how thankful I am that they are part of my life.

So, what about you? Do you have some lifers? If so, take a minute to be thankful and to realize just what a blessing you have.

Stray thoughts...

Wow. Unitl I came to post this, I didn't realize how long it's been. I knew it had been a while, but not this long. Oh, well. Apparently Facebook has taken over for posting my thoughts. In truth, I wasn't planning to post tonight, but a stray thought just took me on a journey and I thought I would share. It starts with one of the last things Michell and I talked about.

We were in the hospital, and I think it was after the girls had come to open their Christmas presents. Michell told me that if I looked around on her side of the closet, I would find the present she bought for me. I told her, "Plenty of time for that once you're back home." Of course, she never did come back to the house, but went to her heavenly home instead.

About a month later, when I was looking around for.. I don't even remember what... I finally found it. At the time, I just dropped down and cried. There were several things to make up the whole gift, but I only remember one of them - a devotional book by Tony Dungy intended to be the seed for a mens small group. That book still sits on a table in my room, waiting. Waiting for a time when I'm not "head coach" over all my church's groups and I can lead a group myself.

I don't know what triggered this particular memory, or why it was so truly vivid in my mind tonight. I do know that I've been frustrated recently that I don't know where God is taking me right now. Someone I was talking to at church tongiht mentioned that she felt that God had put her in a "holding pattern," and I know exactly what she means. I have ministries I am faithful to perform, but I feel more like I'm waiting for God to release me to the next thing, rather than full of vision for the future.

If you're there too, holding, waiting on God to show you what's next, let me encourage you (as I remind and encourage myself): God gave you gifts and talents to further His purposes. When everything is ready, He will call you to your next place, your next purpose, your next ministry. While you're waiting, try and enjoy the time He is giving you to learn, grow, and be still for a time, but be ready to move because when He calls, it's time to go!

Good or bad? Good, I hope...

So I've made it through another anniversary without Michell. Today would have been 12 years of marriage for the two of us, instead it marks 1 yr 9 months since her death. Funny thing is, the quiesting I've been pondering today is only indirectly related to her death. So, you might ask, what have I been pondering? I've been wondering if it's a good sign or a bad sign that today just seems like any other Sunday.

If you know me well, you know that I not only think about things alot, but I also think about how I think about things alot. (and I even think about the fact that I think about how I think about things alot - I know, scary but true) I know it becomes futile thinking after a while, but it's somthing I've never really been able to stop, and I'm used to it now.

So today, the thing that has made me most upset is the fact that I'm not really upset about the fact that today should have been my 12th anniversary. In my head, I've known it was coming all month, but never really thought about it being a big deal. I know others who have some ritual or plan special activities on dates like this, but today was just a normal Sunday for us.

Now, I'm not one to base my self-worth or self-judgement on the opinions of others, but I am curious to hear what you think about it - is it good or bad that today is just a normal day, with no drama or pain. While thinking about this throughout the day, I've come to the conclusion that I think it's a good thing, but I know I'll keep thinking about it - that's just what I do.

And Michell, as you sit at the feet of Jesus, you already know my feelings better than I know them myself. See you in eternity! Until then, I'll just keep living as God directs me, as best I can.

My house or hers?

You know, I've tried about 5 times to start this post, and kept erasing them. So now I'm just jumping into the middle - you'll catch up, I'm sure.

I've been feeling a bit out of place in my own house lately. Why? Because in many ways, it's still more Michell's house than mine. At least, the decorating is. I don't know how it is in your house, but I was never overly concerned about what kinds of decorations were up, I was much more concerned that things function well. As a result, Michell did most of the decorating... and since she was a collector, her collections are still everywhere.

Since her death, I have gone through many stages of re-establishing myself as a "single" instead of part of a couple. One of the slowest has been transforming the house to reflect "me" rather than "us". Essentially, there are 3 major steps to making such a change - 1) I have to be emotionally ready to move/remove things, 2) I have to know what's going to replace the things I move/remove, and 3) I have to have the time & energy to move/remove and set up new things.

In the beginning, the emotional issues were the worst. Later, I got to the point where I was emotionally ready, but didn't know what to put in what would otherwise be empty spots. This is a bigger problem than you might think - I know because I cleaned off the upstairs entertainment center and it sat disturbingly empty for many months, and has slowly accumulated random items via the "horizontal curse". I'm still frustrated about that space, and I still don't know what I'm eventually going to put there.

Now, however, the biggest issue centers around time & energy. As a single parent, I rarely have the large blocks of time required to lovingly pack away one of Michell's collections and replace it with something that's more about me. Worse is the fact that it's rarely one thing that needs to change - I have started some work this summer that spiraled into about 4 projects - you know... move A to B so that C can move to A so that D can get shifted closer to where C used to be and... and... and...

There's also an odd emotional issue that's coming around. While I am ready for things to move (in fact, I'm getting very mildly frustrated at my own slow progress), I would really like to sit down and talk about the things I'm moving/removing. Rachel and Zoe aren't old enough to appreciate (or endure) such conversations, and there's no one else to share with. Part of me is worried that the stories will be forgotten, leaving me with boxes of random stuff instead of boxes of meaningful connections. Other than waiting for Rachel and Zoe to be teenagers, I don't know how to solve this one, so I'm just having to move on despite the discomfort.

I am, however, slowly making progress. Curious? Good! because I wanted to share. Below is a picture of a project I finished today. Started it before school let out last spring, but it's finally finished! What is it? A new display area for my playing card collection. I have cards from work trips, from my mom's travel to other countries, from personal vacations, from vacations with Michell, and in the center are the cards from family vacations (before and after Michell's death). There are also some random "for fun" decks tucked in to fill out the display. Here's Rachel showing off the display:

In case you're keeping score on how one project creates another... the new display is in the dining room above the craft table. Putting up this display required moving Michell's bridal portrait, which now has a new home in the living room, which required removing the curio cabinet to make room for the portrait, which required getting (and assembling) a new shelf to hold a few key items from the curio cabinet, which required shifting some furniture to make room for the new shelf. I also have a collection of other items from the curio cabinet removal which still need to be packed away.

So, if you've bee worried because the house still seems more hers than mine, just keep giving me time. I have big plans for the kitchen (model train!), but it may take a while...

Ambushed by grief

Got ambushed by grief today. Knew it might happen - we talked about it in Griefshare - it's just anytime when your grief unexpectedly rears up and gets you. It happened to me after lunch today. The morning and lunchtime were fine, great even, but since then I've felt down, even to the point of feeling a physical sensation in my head. I probably shouldn't be surprised. There are several things that have happened lately that I should have guessed would trigger it.

First, our beach vacation was great, but I certainly thought about Michell each time we went to the beach. In my mind, I could see what she would have been doing. She loved to sit on the beach and dig down into the sand - down to where there are tons of shells. She could spend hours just looking for one or two good shells.

Second, I've been watching my sister deal with her husband's deployment. They are dealing with similar seperation issues, plus the added stress of his location. Not only has this caused me to remember back to right after Michell died, it has also caused Rachel to regress into grief. My niece, who is the same age as Rachel, frequently cried over missing her daddy while we were on our trip together. Since that first night, Rachel keeps saying how much she misses her mommy. Before the trip, it was at most a weekly event, now it can be several times a day.

Third, I've had two seperate and recent instances of friends just dropping me from their life. Not anyone I would call a "best friend", but certainly someone I thought of as more than just a casual acquaintance. Even though one may have pulled away in an effort to spare me pain, it still hurts to have someone just pull themself away like that. Having it happen twice just makes each instance seem worse.

I'm trusting God to pull me through this. He promises "a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair" (Isaiah 61:3, NIV) and to turn "my mourning into dancing" (Psalm 30:11, NAS). He has been, is, and will continue to be my source of strength, hope, and joy.

I love you, Lord! Thank you for your promises!