To the One Who Stayed

To the One Who Stayed,

This post is not easy. I feel like I've endured a roller coaster of emotions and I'm trying desperately to get off, but just when I think it's done, that it's all over, it takes another loop. Another uphill climb and another downward spiral. It goes on and on and I'm weary.

Its not all your fault, I get it. But I confess, all day yesterday, until this morning, I was so angry with you. All you wanted to do was leave, but it was so unlike you. You broke my heart and for the first time in the whole of my life I wanted to shout at you.

Sweet, loveable, gentle, docile you.

I wanted to grab your shoulders and plead with you. I wanted to release the floodgate, banging the doors behind my eyes. I wanted to scream and cry and pitch a fit. I wanted to explode for the pain in my heart.

You are so tired. And that breaks my heart. How I want to ease your pain and bring you joy. I can't, but I want to. I know you are tired. I know you are done.

But you're not done.

I am so selfish! I want you to be here with me! I want you to meet whoever I marry. I want to know you approve of him.

I want you to meet whatever children the Lord blesses me with.

I want to talk books and big words with you. I want to talk about family history and geek out over names with you.

I know I'm being so incredibly selfish, but I still want you here.

But if you're ready, there's one thing I need to say:

If you're going to leave, I understand. I love you, I'm going to miss you, and I promise you I'm going to cry a lot, but do me one favor. Please, just one.

When you leave, be you. Be you when you go from here.

Do you remember who you are?

You're sassy but sweet. You like scrabble and novels and fresh picked figs. You like coffee infused water and gooey butter cake. You like things that grow and you always have plants in your windowsill. You like bird watching, wave watching, and 500 piece puzzles. You follow baseball, and basketball and a mired of other sports I didn't even realize.

You have the patience of a saint! You've endured 30+ years of excruciating pain with minimum complaint, and been the faithful, joyful wife of an ailing man. And the gentle, peaceful woman in the life of so many.

So when you go, please! Please be you! You've fought wars of loving a PTSD husband, crippling arthritis, a number of other minor and (semi)major surgeries...so when you go, please don't just wane to another war, you're a fighter, a soldier. When you go, go like you. Still be you. Leave the way you have done all things: with gentleness and strength; the kind I hope to one day attain. Stay the lady I love and admire so very much.

But for now, one last thing.

If it's ok with you, please stay.

Five Years

Five years ago, I traveled to the big hospital in the city. I hate hospitals. They almost didn't let me see you. because you were in the PICU, I was only 16, and visiting hours had ended long before I showed up. I wanted to see you so badly it hurt. When I finally did though, it hurt worse. You didn't look like you. You didn't smell like you. You didn't act like you- you didn't do anything. You just laid there, breathing slow and deep. You looked peaceful. You didn't look like you were in pain, but there was pain in the room. I could feel it; the weight of your parents prayers sat on my chest as I looked down at your sunken, sleeping face. I remember thinking "God, this is so unfair!" It shouldn't have been you.

When I met you, you seemed like the strongest person I knew; and in so many ways, you were. I knew that that night was going to be it. But I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want it to be the end. But it was.

I stood at the door forever. Too afraid to come close. So afraid that if I breathed too hard, I would break you. Finally I walked towards your bed, and I took your gaunt hand into mine and rubbed my thumb along the back of your knuckles. These hands were so strong. I had seen you work hard with them, be gentle with them, pray with them. You had given me high fives with this hand, and hugged me with this hand. You had touched the world with this hand.

You hair was longer than you usually kept it, and your dark brown curls were tight around your head. I ran my fingers through them, feeling like I was standing at heaven's door with my brother. I knew what was coming for you, and my heart rejoiced. But I knew what was coming for me, and my heart also grieved. I leaned my head down beside yours and rested beside you. Tears streaming down my face, I watched your chest slowly rise and fall. No one spoke. No one moved. This was my moment with you. My moment to build one last memory. My moment to say good-bye. I kissed the side of your face, and buried mine in the pillow by your head, and slowly I began croaking out the words to my favorite hymn, "Amazing Grace". Your dad heart me, and began singing with me. We sang all four verses to you, and I watched as you just laid there, and breathed.

Before I left, you did one thing.

Only one.

You squeezed my hand.

So little.

Barely noticeable.

So insignificant at any other moment in time.

But one tiny movement of your hand, meant the world to me.

I love you. And I miss you, not every day, but often. I wait for the day when I can see your face, whole and healthy, again!


In Loving Memory of Y.K.S., 2/4/95-5/10/11. May we all live with such gentle passion.

Overwhelmed

I'm overwhelmed by You, You're sovereign majesty
I'm captured in the passion of a holy King
And I've been reconciled to the son of peace
I belong to You, You belong to me

The lyric has been playing through my mind for more than a week now. I'm overwhelmed by You.

My life felt pretty low in the slumps for a while, where my joy was low and the resentment towards the monotony I felt high. I felt like I had few friends, and those I did have were occupied with jobs or boyfriends or school or a combination of the three.

I felt no joy in my job. My sweet little bubbly, beautiful boy would just smile and grin at me. And as cute as his grins and babbles are, I took little joy in him. I loved on him, of course. But there was no joy. My mom really challenged me and encouraged me to find it and apply it- because it was making me grumpy and moody to everyone and everything.

I began to really seek joy and contentment where I was. And in seeking the will of the Lord, I began to find it. Slowly and surely, I found joy in the little things, and in the hard things. I found things beautiful again, as I also had begun to experience some apathy as well. It was most definitely not an overnight change- but it was an overnight mindset switch. A firm decision to commit the day I was given to the Lord.

All of the sudden I felt blessing after blessing pour out onto my soul. It was is if my heart was being led to the green pastures promised, and I was in knots of excitement, knowing what was ahead; the blessings and provision of the Father. As a friend reminded me just this morning, He withholds NO good thing. It is His desire to bless us. Though we neither deserve it or fully understand it, He does it just the same. In the midst of all of this, I began to actively see His blessings. Most clearly in the form of fellowship and friendship. A lady extended her hand as a mentor, and I am so thankful for that. I met with her and a few other girls, and although I was a bit awkward and maybe a tad distant, I can see myself really plugging into this group the more I get to know them. I was able to have a new friend come for dinner and then visit with her for a while, and I cannot describe the joy I felt for being able to invest into someone again. We were able to talk and chat as if we'd known each other forever.

Can you see at all why I felt beyond overwhelmed? It was too much. My cup was overflowing. And it just kept coming.

On the same night that I met with the lady and girls, the same night my friend was here for dinner, and the same day that I had spent time with the new group I am apart of, it just didn't stop. As I was walking into Panera for Bible Study, I discovered that a lady, very dear to my family was there. I hadn't seen her in at least 5 years, but probably more. As soon as I saw her, my heart just couldn't handle it, and I burst into tears, exploding with joy and thanksgiving.

All I have been thinking since two weeks ago, is, "God, I do not deserve this- but I am so thankful!" I cannot put into words what being overwhelmed by the Father is like- but I assure you, there is nothing like it. I have been able to spend time with my family, in the evenings, or we joined a pool this year and have gone almost every day. It has been such a blessing to take joy in them again. Yesterday, five of the siblings volunteered at a festival, and we just enjoyed being together and riding roller coasters. I have had the time to invest in this new group of people and I feel like I am being established and able to connect and form friendships. But all this by the hand of the Father. I not only did nothing, I deserve nothing. Would  I feel half as overwhelmed right now, had I not chosen to submit to the joy of the Lord? Would I just be delighted with the new of it all, instead of deeply and genuinely thankful for it?

In my Sunday school class, we are working our way through Joshua. Although I came in part way into the book, I have gained so much. Through both the teaching and the discussion. (This deserves a post of its own!) But where we are right now, is the Israelites have just crossed the Jordan on dry ground. But its more than that. When the crossed, it was flood season. So the Jordan wasn't just flowing strong, it was overflowing. When the Lord stopped the waters? He stopped them twenty miles north of where they were crossing. And where the crossed? Directly in front of Jericho. The nation they were going to conquer. And who crossed first? The army. 40,000 men in armor. This was a big deal. Like, huge. So God told Joshua to pick on man from each tribe, to go back to the Jordan, and each pick a stone and bring them back to camp. Why? So they would remember.

Why do I tell you all this? I tell you, because it gives a Biblical reason for my blog. I blog, not just to share, but to remember. And I never want to forget the magnanimity of this moment. Of this feeling of pouring joy from the Lord. Of the blessing of obedience. Once you taste it, you never go back. And I want to forever relish in His joy. Because whether His blessings comes in the form of little or comes in the form of much; comes in His taking away or His giving to me; comes in the form of keeping me here or moving me elsewhere, I don't want to miss it.

I want to remember what His glorious hand looks like in my life. I want to share what His mercies can look like. And I want everyone to know His joy.

Sincerely overwhelmed,
Mal

May Flowers

May is hard month for me. It has been for a few years.

May first became a month of difficulty three years ago when I said good-bye to someone for the first time. I don't mean good-bye like someone was moving, or to an elderly relative that I didn't really know. I mean, that I stood by the side of a friend, my age, who was ending his battle with cancer. "Emotional" doesn't even begin to describe me during the weeks that followed. I remember getting the news that he was gone and collapsing on the kitchen floor. I had never prayed so hard, and never been so devastated.

Also understand, I was sixteen. I am an overly emotional person. And this was a new experience. Everything felt so huge; I had no idea how to deal with it. So, for an entire year, I wrote him letters. I spoke at his funeral, and was honoured to do so, but it was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

If you read this post, you can read more about the second reason May is hard.

My Cinco de Mayo nephew is waiting for me. I can't wait to meet him.

Sometimes it feels like, there are still showers in May, and that it's still sort of dark. But I like to think that I just have a few waiting May flowers waiting. And I can't wait to see them in full bloom.

Measure up.

Glancing in the mirror the other day, I smiled lightly to myself. I didn't look half bad that day.

But.

I have struggled with self image for as long as I can remember. I recall being as young as 8 or 9, and laying in bed, on my back, and trying to see how thick I was from my back to my belly, and my mom coming in and asking me what I was doing. I remember having friends over after church and having to scour my clothing for something small enough for them to wear. This one time one of my older sister's friends came over and she had to borrow something of mine. At 10+ years between us, I remember feeling embarrassed because someone so much older than me was wearing my clothes (I was like 10 at the time, so older clearly meant bigger in my mind.) To this day, among my friends group, I'm the largest, one of the shortest, and probably one of the palest.

Any time I begin to think, "Hey I'm not so wide!" I see on of my very tiny friends and realize "...oh but I am."

I look in the mirror of my poorly lit bathroom and see my skin and think "I'm not that pale!" And then I stand next to Yenny. (I guess being Salvadorean gives her the benefit? :))

I have different thoughts like, "My acne isn't so bad. Or my 'girl-stache" isn't so noticeable. Or I'm not that short. Or my hair is kind of long!"  And yet, somehow, something happens to make me realize, I always fall short. I do not measure up in someway. Every. Single. Time. There is always someone who has whatever I have, better.

But I'm holding myself to an impossible standard. One of culturally defined beauty that no one woman has reached it on her own. Any woman who has reached an unnatural ideal has done it...unnaturally. Either by cosmetic surgery and chemicals or by photoshop and airbrushing. Or worse, both. So girls(myself among them) see these unrealistic pictures of "beauty" and strive within our means to reach them and obviously, don't. And when we finally feel good about something, we find someone who has it better and then it's back to level zero again.

But there's another unreachable standard. And one that not just girls fail with. One that every single person fails with. And that most every person strives for.

So what is this totally impossible standard?

Perfection.

Beautiful, unmarred, sacred, glorious perfection.

But good news!

We have a means to reach this one.

You see, as we are all unlovely, we cannot be with the God, who IS love.

BUT! Because He is Love, He made a way for us! He tells us this: "...God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

My pastor said this gem on Sunday. Consider it. "God, sent is Son, to come and live the live you were created to live, and then to die for the one you chose to live instead."

It is OUR fault, but God loves us too much to let that be the end. So He goes on to tell us: "Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him!"

When we accept the sacrifice of His life, God looks at us and sees His son! The wrath He would have poured out on our unmeasured up selves was instead poured out on his son, and because of that, we, though not on our own strength, finally measure up! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is far more worth our time than any humanly concocted idea of perfection. 

Because out of that love for His sacrifice, we obey His Words. Not to gain His approval, but to show our love for all He has done for us. And sometimes, that's not glamorous or fabulous. But to Him, it is beautiful. He tells us in His word that it is "Music to His ears." 

I don't know about you, but that, that is worth never measuring up here.

Jesus and Jeans: Behind the name

My mom was asking why I was grouping my "controversial" posts as Jesus&Jeans (all future topical posts of that nature will fall under that name as well.) Since she had questions, I figured perhaps others do as well, and since these recent posts tend to be quite lengthy, I have to work on them for a while before I can post them. I want each of them to be thought out, and written with the accountability of my family, which means they often have to wait until upwards of two people have read them. Although I want to speak truth boldly, I want it also to be Biblically true and I want it to be presented in a way were people don't feel judged by me. All that said, know two things: they aren't shot from the him, carelessly composed rambles about things I know people have issues with, they're thought out, and often even prayed over. The other thing is, all that said, they take quite a while to write up.

SO! Behind the idea of "Jesus and Jeans". This title was borne out of what was going to be my first post, and I ended up writing what I had planned on being my second post, first. Make sense?? I was going to write about the idea of what Christianity and the skirt vs. jeans/pants on women, since we are headed into the season where pants are all the time around us. (For some reason skirts seem more widely accepted when the spring and summer are here.) And since that's what this post will (eventually) encompass, I decided to call it that. But I was getting behind on my writing, and when I sat down to work on it, I found my self looking at the end of October, and I really wanted to put my two cents in on the Halloween articles that had been circulating, so I went ahead with that, but thought "Hey...'Jesus and Jeans' is fairly catchy, and since that in and of its self is a topical idea, I'll just use that as my coverall for all posts of this nature." And that's pretty much how it went down. "Jesus and Jeans" is my unofficial official name for this part of my writing! :)

Up next: Millennials, skepticism, and marriage

To Little Mister EB

Dear Enoch Barnett,

I haven't been ignoring your existence; I've been searching for the right words. It seems as though people are always searching for the right words, and never quite landing on just the right ones. Then when something sad happens, we just fumble the decent words we did have. Least ways, that's what I seem to do.

Hardly a day goes by where I don't think about you. In my heart, you're a little boy with skinned knees and a pair of overalls without a shirt. I imagine your dark curly hair bouncing around your face as you run around. You have your mommy's deep green eyes that disappear when you smile. And your daddy's smug little grin that seems to always suggest that you're deep in mischief. This auntie imagines you with quite the little personality, making all those founding fathers give deep belly laughs. I wonder if you've made friends with your cousins. I imagine in my heart that you're keeping Mr. Yokana company. Or playing in a heavenly stream with other children. I've heard that Jesus loves children; there's bound to be a lot of them there.

I miss you everyday. And I love you and I'm thankful for how God is using you, to draw your mommy and daddy, grandparents and aunts and uncles to Himself more and more. 

Dr. Seuss once said:

"Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."

:)

~Auntie 4

The Idol of the American Church

The Body of Christ is a growing body; it's not mature yet. And as part of it, I feel like different "idols" pop up. I really feel like that's something that happens, that the body struggles with. I also feel that often people don't label them as "idols". But the fact is, we rarely have golden statues anymore, and idolatry is still an issue. So why aren't we labeling those idols and casting them out? I say "we" because I am not going to cast total blame on anybody else. I am at fault too. At different times, I've struggled with idolatry.

So lets talk about the taboo.

Idolatry:

Merriam Webster online says:

 : immoderate attachment or devotion to something :

The encyclopedia at http://www.britannica.com/ says:

 : idolatry, in Judaism and Christianity, the worship of someone or something other than God as though it were God. The first of the biblical Ten Commandments prohibits idolatry: “You shall have no other gods before me.”...Several forms of idolatry have been distinguished. Gross, or overt, idolatry consists of explicit acts of reverence addressed to a person or an object—the sun, the king, an animal, a statue. This may exist alongside the acknowledgment of a supreme being; e.g., Israel worshiped the golden calf at the foot of Mount Sinai, where it had encamped to receive the Law and the covenant of the one true God.
A person becomes guilty of a more subtle idolatry, however, when, although overt acts of adoration are avoided, he attaches to a creature the confidence, loyalty, and devotion that properly belong only to the Creator. Thus, the nation is a good creature of God, but it is to be loved and served with an affection appropriate to it, not with the ultimate devotion that must be reserved for the Lord of all nations. Even true doctrine (e.g., true doctrine about idolatry) may become an idol if it fails to point beyond itself to God alone. :

 Idolatry is something everybody deals with, and nobody talks about. Why? As one of the biggest issues (in my opinion) it needs to be discussed and dealt with. It's everybody's green monster in the closet. That nasty thing needs to be exposed to the discomfort and flee.
 
This post is borne out of an observation I made to my sister and my best friend today at lunch. While all three of us were on facebook (Welcome to modern America!) I noticed that my newsfeed had a number of "health" posts. In addition to that, a fair amount of modern American media is all about
"GET FIT! Try out diet. Use this machine. Join this gym. Take these pills". It's no longer just a hobby, or about getting fit. It's not even just a "getting healthy" thing. It's an idol. There are a lot of people, and Christians, that have idolized exercise and diet. I feel comfortable with posting this, because it became an idol for me. I was obsessed with my eating habits. Always worrying about what I was eating or drinking, and always noting to others how bad something was that I was eating. And how much exercise it would take to get it off. I became irritating with it. I was no longer being healthy, I was being ridiculous. It was around that time that my ridiculous obsession was slapped in my face as an idol. I had fallen prey to a dangerous sin; both spiritually and physically. My crazy ideas of "health" were no longer wise, but foolish, and I was confronted with several things. One being, my constant desire to change, was leading to a mindset of subconsciously telling God: "What you made isn't good enough for me." I was discontent with my physical appearance, and that led me to a distaste to my personality about my appearance. All-in-all I began hating myself. My body wasn't changing fast enough, and my negative spirit about it was making me an unbearable soul to be around. God not-so-casually slipped a verse past my eyes, and I would like to share it with you:

1 Timothy 4:8:

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

Yes, we should take total care of our bodies. We should be healthy, and wise. We should carefully consider what we put on and in our bodies. We should watch out for our hygiene. Being sure we're clean and ready for what God may have us do on any given day. But this unhealthy obsession in the church is dangerous. Post after post on facebook, news sights, commercials, even subtle hints in movies and TV shows suggesting "health" changes. 

It's become a dangerous downward spiral. A constant need for and dependance on exercise and diet foods. A constant reminder of the fats, calories or any other unhealthy properties that may be found in any given food or drink.

Christ's bride has fallen dangerously prey to a habit that we have a warning about. 

If it's all I read about on a person's page, or all that others read about on mine. If it's all I pin on pinterest, or talk about among friends. It is what I promote to everybody else, it's my idol. It's my god. And I'm calling my bluff. It's wrong. 

Perhaps we as a church can begin encouraging one another in different ways. Maybe the women at your church can begin a prayer-walking group. Or once a week go for a jog with some friends. I just think it might be better if we took down this idol, and left the clay with the clay. 

~Mal

Encountering an Angel

Its a mystery as to where the angel was, maybe there was more than one; but at least one had to have been there.



It was kind of a learning driver's worst nightmare: Two lane back country road, hills and curves aplenty. In a 2000 Ford 4x4, at top of the hill was a teen driver and her dad. In the dip just before another blind hill was a biker. The driver began breaking, but the downhill ride she was on wasn't helping. Three cars behind her, biker in front of, and two cars in the lane coming towards her. Oh, did I mention the speed limit was 55?



Terror gripped her stomach as she hollered "Dad I'm all for learning, but tell me what to do! Dad, PLEASE!" Although he wasn't ignoring her, she was rapidly approaching, and her throat was closing up. She looked into the next lane and saw two cars coming at her at the same 55 MPH. She checked her rear-view and saw another three trailing her. Her foot pressed to the break, she didn't even breathe again before shouting "DAD!!" Her father, gentle by nature raised his voice in urgency and maintained a calm demeanor. "BREAK! You need to break now!"

Her palms were sweating; she kept looking around into the lane next to her to see when she could go around the biker, who still seemed oblivious that his life was in jeopardy. "Dad I have to stop!" A totally new situation to her, she wasn't trying to make more drama than necessary, but she was terrified as she saw that if she did anything else, lives would be ruined or ended altogether.

She had to come to a complete stop, just feet behind the biker before she could go around him. The drop in her speed, however, created a second hazard: picking up speed once around the biker. She still had a blind hill in front of her and needed to hurry through the lane so as not to be an obstruction. Still, the knots in her stomach didn't ease as she tried to get speed up to go around the biker.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, as fast as the situation came upon her it was over. A small gasp escaped her throat, and she tried to focus on the task at hand, and not think about how bad it could have been. Her mind searched for the memory of how to drive the vehicle, as she was very disheveled. She got a grip, and was able to continue just fine. But her heart didn't forget about it.

Now here she sits, two days later, and thinks, "there was an angel; there had to be."



Whether it was an angel pushing her brake harder, a band of them around the biker, or even more holding cars off, she doesn't know. But there had to have been an angel...or a few angels. Angels that comfort, angels that protect, and angels that value human life.

~M

One Year in Heaven

I don't try to dwell on sad or hard things. I don't try to wallow in dark, shady, or serious things. However, last May, I faced one of the hardest things of my life.

I'd been exposed to death. Older members of the church, elderly family members, etc. Up to this point though, I had never really loved and lost. I had been around people who experienced incredible loss. But I never had. I'm not trying to throw a pity party, just explain that it really was the darkest few weeks of my life.

I met ^this kid in December of 2009. He was 6'4"(+). Size 15 foot. He was huge. But he was one of the sweetest people I've ever met. He was the picture of gentle giant. He gave the best hugs. He made everyone around him laughed, and somehow kept the most strait face. We were in a church drama group for a while, and he'd do the voice of God (as the only guy in the group ;)). His deep voice conveyed passion and tenderness. I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he would get really into his role. He always cared about other people, even if he was reading a script. When he lived in South Africa, he really enjoyed rugby. And according to his dad, he was good! I knew YK for a year and a half, and never once did I hear him complain.

From the moment I met him, there was something different about him. I could tell. I know, people tend to be prejudice of their friends, but seriously. This guys was, incredible. One of the Godliest people, I have ever had the privilege of personally meeting.

YK was here, because he had cancer. I didn't care to to know the ins and outs of his battle; it was not something I wanted the full details on. For that reason, I can't tell you exactly what he had. Just, that it was a hard, long battle for him. People diagnosed with his type of cancer are usually given about two years; if he'd made it to June, it would've been.

But he didn't. God saw fit to take away all his pain the night of May 10th, 2011.

A good friend and I were given the amazing opportunity to be with him and his parents about15 minutes or so before he finished his race. The hour I spent with them was the hardest of my life. YK was unresponsive; basically, all the systems of his body were putting their energy into fighting the cancer. His father read some scripture, we prayed over him, sang to him, and just talked to him. The experience of that night, is unforgettable for me. I kept a journal for the first few days after he passed away, and there's no point in reinventing the wheel:

Amazing Grace:

I sat there and tousled his curles and rubbed his face. We all prayed and I watched as his non-responsive body allowed his eyes to slide shut. I leaned over and whispered into his ear, my final good-bye, and began humming "Amazing Grace" ♪mm--mmmmm---how sweet the sound♫ before I knew it, his mother father, my friend and her mom, (the youth leader that had called me) were all singing along with me. the whole room surrounded him with the sound of every verse from the hymn. i will never sing that song the same way again. it holds such a sweet memory for me. i laid my head on the pillow beside his face and just watched as his neck jerked for air, and the uneven rise and fall of his chest. It was one of the sweetest bitter moments of my life. I praise God, for his Amazing Grace.

Joy in Christ Alone:

if i've learned nothing else through this experience, it's that God does crazy ridiculous things, and that we shouldn't take each day for granted. we're given these days, it's up to us to decide what to do with them. it's taught me to hold my tongue when i want to say something, because what if it's the last thing i say to that person? it's taught me to reach out to people that annoy me, because what if i'm the only Jesus they will get to see? it's taught me to thank God for the life he's given me, and ask his help on how to live it. it's taught me to be thankful for the relationships i'm surrounded with. my sisters are here with me all the time, but until i do something about it...that's pointless. it's taught me to rejoice in every situation. am i smiley, and happy all the time? no. happiness is based on circumstances. joy, joy is based in Christ.

John 16:33:

for our sixteenth birthdays, our parents always get a us a Bible; a very nice, usually study, Bible. Since my birthday was in october, i haven't marked the blak pages at the end and beginning much. (although i hope to soon ) that being said, i have no idea when i jotted down John 16:33. NO clue! but the night that Yokana died, i had no peace. i couldn't pray myself to sleep, cry myself to sleep, rock myself to sleep or anything. (and even though i eventually fell alseep, i didn't get a lot of rest...)

i decided that i needed to hear God. for the first time in my life, i was desperate for his word in my ear. i longed to have his voice.

i picked up my Bible and began flipping rapidly. i have never wanted his word so badly. i searched throught the PSalms, thinking, "surely there is a word in here to calm me" but of course on this one time i needed a word of peace and comfort, every verse i flipped to was "Oh Lord where are you in my times of trouble" or "Oh my God, why have you hidden yourself from my presence?" and so forth and so on....i was sitting there going, "really? God do you even care that i am searching for you in my time of need?"

i just chanced to lookin the front where i would jot notes, and saw the reference for John 16:33. my hand writing. the reference had no special meaning to me. i flipped to the verse. there was a star beside it. i questioned myself on when i had done it. but i went ahead and read the verse. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Whoa!!!! i was literlly blow away! it was as if God was like, ok you want it, here it is. not in a mean, in your face kind of way. but a, ok your ready for it now. your ready to accept my peace. and i was. as soon as i read it, my eye lids slid shut, i thanked God like i never had before for his word, his gift, and his peace.

and before i knew it, i was asleep. i was sleeping in Jesus's arms. i felt his comfort surround me in a way...it just never had.

was my night restless that night? ya...a bit more than i had hoped it would be. but did i sleep? ya. was i just completely awed by God's comfort and peace in the moments when i needed it most? ya.

This is just a few of the many entries over the next few days from that moment in the pediatric ICU. Just a glimpse of my heart that night. I remember coming home, telling mom all about it, only for the phone to ring a few minutes before midnight telling us he was gone.

Grief. Anguish. Mourning.

New feelings for me. Ones that I've worked through for a year now.

I still miss him. I still wish for myself, for our friends, and for his family that he was still here. But YK is free! He's pain free, worry free, hurt free, and sorrow free! I'm jealous of him! But I still miss him. Every Tuesday for a while was dreadful. And every 10th was not a fun reminder of one more month without him here. But as time has slipped by quickly, and May has rolled around again, I realize, that He's enjoyed the greatest gift for a whole year now. And with every day that passes for us, brings us one day closer to eternity.

Yokey, I miss you. SO MUCH. I love you, and can't wait to frolic down golden streets with you! :)

~Love M