Our Journey to Healing

ID Please

2012-01-22T22:38:00.001-05:00

Piggybacking on Jim’s wonderfully written blog “God, do you validate?” I wanted to share my similar yetdifferent validation journey. The news reporter from USA Today,Dennis, also asked me the same question, “What was the moral? What did you learn?” I found it hard to answer that with onesimple statement. Jim will attestthat I find most things hard to answer with one statement. I believe men invented the term TMI(too much information) to categorize how we girls like to go “on and on” andgive all the details to what they have no need for. Jim taught me what a BLUF was (Bottom Line Up Front). I had never heard that before. He explained that sometimes he justneeds to hear the point up front and then he can ask details after. I enjoy taking the meandering route andword walking all the way to the take-the-yellow-brick-road- see–the-wizard-of–Oz-path-approachto story telling. I have tried itJim’s way but probably still don’t adhere to it as a general practice. Ha. Thus why I am still lingering on this subject in the firstplace. Ah, the beauty in thedifferences of men vs. women….

My journey with Jesus through the death of Troy has beenanything but simple. So thereisn’t exactly a simple way to answer the before-mentioned question of what didI learn? But in honor of Jim Iwill begin with a BLUF: I learnedthat without Christ being my own personal Savior and without believing theBible as the absolute authority on who my God actually is, I never would havecome out of the darkness alive. Literally? Well, I doubtthat. I have told others thehonest truth ; for quite some time after Troy died, I HAD NO DESIRE TO LIVEANYMORE. I know some of my familyand friends were aghast a bit by that statement but truly there is a differencebetween wanting the earth to swallow you up whole and wanting to take your ownlife. I NEVER would have killedmyself. I knew that would notplease the Lord and the last thing in the world my kids needed was to losetheir only remaining parent. But Ihope by me being honest enough to make that statement that I can help others bereal with themselves and with God (He knows it all anyway remember?) to seek spiritualand often medical help. Andhonestly, to remind those that might see my life, our lives now, and think “Oh,that Ginger (and Jim), they couldn’t possibly know what I am goingthrough. Look at how happy she is,how happy they are” that, trust me, I carved my initials on the bottom of thebottomless pit. I figured at 36years old I probably had 40-50 more years to live and the thought of feelinglike I felt for 40 more years was enough to make me crater when I was alonewith my thoughts.

There are numerous patriarchs of the Bible, David and Jobjust to name a few, who felt exactly the same way I did and God still considersthem heroes of faith in Hebrews 11. So even when I wondered if I was losing my mind, I remembered God stilldid a major work in their hearts and they went on to be true examples ofsaints.

So, I found my struggle was to not not live but to not liveas the walking dead. Not liveempty, purpose-less, or bitter. Ididn’t want to even want to settle for being apathetic or eternallygrumpy. I didn’t want to beseparated from God but I couldn’t help feeling like He simply did not hold upHis end of the deal. By no meanshad Troy and I “arrived” spiritually or any other way. But we were faithful to each other,serving God, giving 110% to raising our children in a loving Christ-centeredhome where the Truth was lived and taught. We had led a life group. I was helping with women’s Bible Studies and women’sministry at church. Troy was single-handedlydeveloping a new Welcome Ministry at church. Not to mention he was a stand-up, strong Christian fighterpilot refusing to submit to some of that world’s worldliness. We were doing ALL that and all we wereasking from the Lord was a little safety for Troy in Iraq and strength for meto hold the Phoenix fort down for 4 months. We even met together with a group of Christian friends rightbefore he deployed and together as a church congregation and laid hands on Troybegging God for His protection. Mypoint: “We did our part, God, soYou go ahead and do Yours.”

All this to give you the background of me feeling God hadjust let Satan pull the rug out from under our lives on the fateful Novemberday. Sooooo, I rode therollercoaster of my emotions that maybe God wasn’t such a loving Father afterall mixed with the Truth of Scriptures which all told me otherwise. Each day that I walked through grief,anger and suffering of monumental proportions, I couldn’t help but see thatEVEN STILL in the darkness I had to trust Him. His Hope was my only way out of the long dark tunnel. I saw Him everywhere as He provided forus. And literally I can honestlysay once I truly “felt” the Lord so close behind me that His breath was on myneck. It may sound crazy and Idon’t think I even journaled about it at the time but I can picture it rightnow vividly. I was in my bedroom,maybe a few months after Troy died, lying on the floor crying my eyes out. That from your gut crying that makesthe world stand still and leaves you breathless with despair. I remember the feel of the carpet on myface and between my fingers. Iremember wanting to dig my fingernails deeper into the carpet, below the levelof the floor because I wanted to physically be in the depths of the emotionalpit I was in. And then in thiswave of well, the Presence of Jesus, I felt Him on my back weeping just as hardas I was. To this day, I still getteary-eyed and a knot in my throat as I remember thinking, “He hascompassion. He does care about me,the kids, all this scrambled mess, this Grand Canyon-sized hole in myheart. This is actually hurtingHim too.” Don’t get me wrong, Igrew up in the church and had been a Christian since I was 9 years old and Iknew Christ was the compassionate type but never until that day did I feel Histender loving care for me so tangibly I could feel it all the way through mybroken soul.

Nehemiah 9:28 “…and when they cried out to you again, you heard from heaven, and inyour compassion you delivered them time after time.”

Nehemiah 9:17 “…But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to angerand abounding in love. Thereforeyou did not desert them…”

James 5:11 “…the Lord is full of compassion and mercy.”

My first description of those many many months of agonyafter our loss would be to say God and I did this dance of “trust Him, fearHim, follow Him, yell at Him, fall into Him….” But in hind sight, really He wasjust standing still rock solid, listening to my cries of grief, collecting mytears of loneliness and holding me up so I could have the strength to do thehard work of grieving with the goal of healing and still be a mom to all mylittle ones. At times I honestlythought I danced alone. But He wasendlessly pointing me in the right direction like a good dance partner alwaysdoes. Nope, Ginger, don’t lean tofar that way you will get hurt or hurt someone else. Nope, Ginger, don’t get ahead of Me, let Me lead you so youdon’t make a monumental mistake that you will always regret. Nope, Ginger, this or that is going tospin you around but I will not let you or your children go.

Psalm 73:21 -24 “When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless andignorant; I was a brute beast before you. Yet I am always with you; You hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel andafterward You will take me into glory.”

May sound crazy to you but there were days I just lifted myright hand in the air to reach for His and held on to that promise that He wasunseen but holding mine too. Iknew Christ had been to that same point I was at in the Garden of Gethsemanethe night before He was crucified.

Matthew 26:37-38 “He (Jesus) took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee (James and John)along with Him, and He began to be sorrowful and troubled. The He said to them, ‘My soul isoverwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.”

The Greek term that was used in the ancient writings was“perilypos” meaning “grieved all around, intensely sad; a sorrow so deep italmost kills.” Well, there in theWord, Jesus knew about what I was going through. He dreaded what He was about to face but in His trust of GodHe said:

Matthew 26:39 “Going a little farther, He fell with His face to the ground and prayed,‘ My Father, if it possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as Youwill.”

So, back to me feeling like God broke our little “contract”. Well, I didn’t feel like the kids and Igot what we deserved to say the least. So, I buried my head in the Bible to study more so I could know Himbetter so I could get to the bottom of why none of this added up. Equation: Godly Christian Husband and Father obeying and serving God+Godly Christian Wife and Mother obeying and serving God + Precious GrowingFamily full of Innocent Children who Love Jesus already and not to

mention who ALL have a long life ahead of them minus theworst nightmare imaginable = God loves us as Himself and works all thingstogether for good? I thought, wellGod’s definition of “good” must be way different than every other person in theworld. Indeed, it is.

My prayerful studies, everyone I knew praying for us and allthe wise friends, family and followers of Christ that sacrificed to pour intoall kept leading me back to this same conclusion: God is good. God loves us. God is to betrusted. God’s plans are not alwaysours but He is sovereign. God ismerciful to save us. God doesheal. God is listening. God isreal. And finally, that eventhough God was the one I wanted to blame and wanted to push away in my anger,He was the very One I couldn’t go through the fiery furnace without.

We prayed for safety. Jim and his family prayed for healing. Our prayers were heard but not answered in the way wewanted. Can we change God’s mindif we pray hard enough or believe more? Well, I have read a lot about that topic and know we all have a slightlydifferent take on that. But Ithink my spiritual hero, Beth Moore, put it best when she said “God does indeedhear our prayers and reserves the right to relent if the change does notcompromise an eternal necessity.”

Though I still do not understand it, I believe that Troy andAndrea dying so young and in the way that they did was of “eternalnecessity”. Even in understandingthat, I still felt a little like God had targeted my sweet little family with agiant bulls-eye for His purposes and glory which made me feel “good” but stilllike “Lord, couldn’t you have chosen someone else?”

Over the years there have been so many ways the Lord hasproven Himself faithful to us that I couldn’t begin to recount them all hereand now. Tiny miracles. Gigantic miracles. Clear protection and direction when Ineeded it most. He didn’t need toprove Himself trustworthy to me, He is the God of the Universe after all. But, still He did….

Fast forward some years to last fall. I took Beth Moore’s study “David,Seeking a Heart Like His”. I felt I already had a personalrelationship with David just through reading the Psalms he wrote. I remember sitting next to the boys bytheir bed, just days after Troy died, and asking them “What do you think Davidand Daddy are talking about right now in Heaven?” Those two heroes I knew had some stories to swap. I can’t say I related to the herostories of David in the Bible but I can certainly say I related to thedesperate stories David of the Bible. I learned so much more about him through studying with Beth (I like tocall her Beth like we are fast friends because she did personally pray for me,write to me and sent me a book after Troy died. Long story how that happened but ever since I have just feela connection to her, much like thousands of women all of this country I am suredo. She has an amazing way of being all of our best friend!)

I couldn’t possibly go over all of what I learned. But again, so many things about God andthe ways He validates Himself to us were the same ways He validated Himself toDavid (mind you before Jesus walked the earth and the Holy Spirit came toindwell in us – which made things a whole lot more complicated for David thanus).

David had highs and lows. Actually David had the highest of highs and the lowest oflows. He was a passionate man wholoved the Lord with his whole heart but struggled with pride andselfishness. Much like I alwayshave… hmmm.

The fallen world and man’s sins are often what let us downthe most. Not God. Man can leave you (by choice, bybetrayal, by death) which leaves a void that truly that “man” was neverintended to fill. We are createdwith a God-sized hole in hearts that we fill with both good things (lovinggodly husbands, happy healthy kids, security) or bad things but either way onlyGod can truly fill it.

David was promised he would be king but found himself livingoff scraps and hiding in caves from his enemies who persecuted and pursued himrelentlessly. Until it was just heand God alone against the world. (Been there!) It’s apainful place to get to but it’s a beautiful place to stay as Beth put it. I lost all my identity in thisworld – as an Air Force pilot’s wife, as half of the term “parents”, as Troy’slove. But Troy couldn’t be my god. He was a great guy but he simplycouldn’t be my god. Wasn’tsupposed to be. I never reallythought of him that way until he was gone and then it struck me that I was onlywho I was because I was his other half. All I wanted to do was run away from the fact that I was no longer Mrs.Troy GiIbert, wife and I was Mrs. Troy Gilbert, widow. I jotted in my notes during this recentBible study on David that Beth said, “We can’t run from life and find refuge inGod instantly. TRUSTING God iswhat you do on the pavement – it’s the path – to get you to that refuge.” Like my good friend Marlo told me,(Marlo was a widow too at one point) she said you can’t wait till you feelbetter before you get up and start walking, you just start walking and thefeeling that you want to live will come later. Beth says, “We can’t just trust our feelings. We must entrust our feelings toGod!” I learned time and againover the course of these last five years, that I cannot always trust myfeelings because they can come and go with the wind.

Beth said the goal of crying out to God is to come to aplace of rest and trust (in Him) not just crying for the sake of crying. He won’t fill our hearts if our heartsare already full of bitterness, turmoil and rage… And the clever observationthat right in the middle of WRESTLE is the word REST. Wow that hit home!

That was a determination I had to pray about daily. I wanted to keep my heart open andempty so God could fill up with the righteous things, with wholeness andhealing and the ability to forgive and to love again. Believe me there were days I could almost see Satan tryingto fill it with the poison of doubt, anger and bitterness. He kicks us when we’re down. That’s pretty much his MO.

Like Jim said and like I am still learning, this life is notabout getting what we want but getting what we need, which is ultimately doinga work in us to make us more Christ-like until we see Him face-to-face. That goes totally against what we callthe “prosperity gospel” that God will just give us everything we want if webelieve enough or pray enough or are good enough Christians. Sometimes He simply says “no, mychild.” And what we do with thatpretty much holds the key to what the rest of our days on this earth arelike. Believe I have not gotten tothe place where I am excited about pain but I am a believer that through it(just like childbirth) He can give you a treasure to hold close to your heartafterwards. I am thankful that Igot all the earthly treasures I did (security, friends and most of all Jim) butI also received the confidence to know that God had validated His love for meon the Cross by sacrificing His precious and only Son. He had already given me what He lovedmost to prove that He loved me too. To quote Beth, “We’re going to win, but victory is going to take blood,sweat and tears – His blood, our sweat and tears from both of us.”

I am still trying to come to the place where I can shift mythinking from wanting what I want to wanting what God wants, when what Godwants from me might hurt. That iswhere the crisis of faith comes. The rubber meets the road. Iowe the Lord way more than He ever owes me. That was a process that took me a lot longer than I think itever took Jim or Andrea. I guessthat’s why they intrigued, inspired and encouraged me so much.

All this comes down to, after all the suffering and thepain, I can tell you I still believe God is good and as the Natalie Grant songsays : “I know what it is to be held.” God’s showed me His ID through His Word and He validated it as“authentic” when He proved Himself faithful and held me through it all. He was my anchor. He didn’t give me what I sought but Helet me see Him in a way I never could have imagined.

How God Introduced Us

2012-01-22T10:56:00.000-05:00

Ginger and I have been asked many times to tell the story of how we met. I decided to find the original emails we exchanged and post them in a blog. It began in Jan 2007 when Andrea went into the ICU for the first time. That night I wrote an email to my friends updating them on how Andrea and I were doing. It was a very difficult night, when for the first time I thought I was going to loose her. That email was forwarded to Ginger between mutual friends and Ginger responded to my email through a friend, Terri Otto and asked if she could contact Andrea and I. Sadly, in Jan 2010 Terri was killed after being hit by a truck while jogging. She always has a special place in our family, a Godly woman and mother, she prayed for Andrea and God used her to introduce Ginger to our life.

Ginger told me long after we met that she, most graciously received hundreds of emails, calls and letters during those first months after Troy's death. They meant the world to her but she was simply too physically and emotionally drained to respond to many of them. Also, deep down, she felt that, though thankful for their kindness, few really understood the level of deep pain and hurting that racked her soul. She remembers seeing this forwarded email late at night and immediately felt drawn to this unknown couple. Ginger was going through a period of being very angry at the God she had always loved whole-heartedly. Yet as she read the words I wrote that night, she saw a couple that had suffered for a long time but did so without the expected anger or disappointment in God. It made her curious about our journey. Andrea would get out of the ICU soon afterwards and Ginger continued to correspond with Andrea and I about once a month over the next 9 months. When Andrea was sick, I would read her Ginger's emails and Andrea will tell me what to write. I have Andrea's prayer journal that list Ginger's name. It is a very special connection between my two wives.

Andrea went back into the ICU in Nov 07 but this time she when she never came home to the boys and I, she went to her real Home with Christ. It would not be until 25 Dec 2007 that I would meet Ginger, the hurting widow at the other end of this email trail.

Below is the email I sent on Jan 3 2007 followed by Ginger's email she wrote back on Jan 6 2007.

It is 2:00 am and I just got back from the hospital. Like everything about cancer we are not the drivers of events, at times it seems we don't even control our time. 48 hrs ago Andrea was a little short of breath when we went for a walk, 24 hrs ago Andrea was out of breath walking in the house and today (Tuesday) we woke up to take Nic to the airport and Andrea needed oxygen, right now I sit in our house alone and Andrea is in ICU on a ventilator. It looked very similar to 2 months ago when Andrea cancer had gotten worse. I assumed when Andrea went in for treatment this Thursday we would start a new chemo. But when we got home from the airport Andrea was so short of breath that even with oxygen she was unable get a normal breath, so I called her doctor.

He had us go do the CT scan at 7pm and based on the results had Andrea check into the hospital. Off we went to back to the hospital and the 7th floor, the oncology floor. A place I had been once before for Andrea's transfusion, and a place I did not want to ever go back to. There is not much good when you have to go to the 7th floor. But after meeting her doctor in the hospital and describing the events of the past 2 days he became more concerned. It was just happening too fast. So he recommended Andrea go to ICU and be put on a ventilator. The reason is Andrea was having so much trouble getting oxygen and it was taking so much effort that she could face some serious complications.

So off we went to ICU, Andrea being wheeled in her bed and me following behind. In ICU there was a flurry of activity with wires and hoses and people all around my wife. I could just stand in the corner and watch as the machines displaying Andrea's vital sign sprung to life, with a lot color displays showing data and beeping. The doctor came in and explained the procedure, why it was necessary, and how it would be done. Then we were left alone to discuss it. In a matter of 5 hrs we went from our house to the ICU. Now surrounded by displays showing Andrea's heartbeat and any other data you would want to know about her, we sat, separated from the nurse's station by the curtain now closed for our privacy. We prayed and decided that it was best to go with the procedure. It meant 3-10 days of Andrea being put "asleep".

Once we gave the okay, the activity resumed, with blood draws, needles and bags. We stayed together and read Psalm 91 together. I read it and Andrea repeated the verses with what little breath she had. It was a reminder of why this was necessary. I anointed her with oil and it was time for me to go to the waiting room. In a quick 40 minutes I got the call it was done and I could go see her before having to leave for the night.

Walking back into the room seeing her asleep with the hose in her mouth, the rhythm of the ventilator in the back ground the room was suddenly very different. When I left Andrea was smiling, looking at me with her beautiful blue eyes. When I returned she was laying limp her life seemingly replaced by the machines all around her. I was able to talk to her and her nodded but did not open her eyes. It was 1:30 and I had to go. No spending the night in ICU. I walked back to the car and drove home to an empty house. And I thought what just happened today?

I admit it was hard to walk into the house. I called a close friend to talk. Now I'm still up at 5 am writing. I'm not ready to go to bed alone. Thank you for allowing me to work this out in my mind. I have thought a lot about the seriousness of today. Heck I have thought about it many times in the past 18 months. Cancer is so relentless in it's pursuit. It is always there. We just etch out what normal life we can around the constant reminder of cancer. We cherish the days where we don't think about cancer, every day we don't have to sit in a doctor's office, every time we can laugh about something silly, or plan something in the future. Those times are precious but really we have found no matter where we are or what has happened, God has sustained us. Just as His word says he will. The doctor called me over to explain how serious this was, that even though her tumors looked better in her CT scan this was no a simple step we were taking. I said, " We have been facing the constant threat of death for 18 months and I know God is in control right now, we are at peace and we are trusting God to heal her." Today I listened to a sermon about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. I may have mentioned this before how they are told to bow down to the golden statue or be thrown into the furnace. I love their response:

"O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."

I agree, God is able, He will, but even if He does not rescue us we will not bow down to the idol. I won't, by the strength of God, give up on all I believe, nor get mad because I don't understand why. God is still God no matter how these events transpire. Circumstances don’t define my faith or my God. God is unchanging. He is the same today, yesterday and tomorrow. Being a Christian does not mean we are given a guarantee of a trial free life or pain free life. In contrast it means we will face trials and pain. Our guarantee is He will never leave us nor forsake us. We do not face trails alone. And through our faith we glorify our creator and our savior who gave us another guarantee…that we will live for eternity with Him. So as we get ever closer to the edge of this furnace, and has we begin to feel the heat from the fire we know the flames do not control our destiny. And we rest under the shadow of the almighty.

In Christ, Jim

Below are the emails from Ginger and Terri

Begin forwarded message:

From: Terri Otto

Date: January 6, 2007 11:30:37 AM CST

To: Jim and Andrea Ravella

Subject: Friend of Jenn Gordon's

Jim - I just received this email. A friend of mine is very good friends with the family and she forwarded Ginger your email about Andrea. Ginger would like to email you and I hope you don't mind but I gave her the go ahead. I am sure that you heard abut her husband dying in Iraq. Anyway, she is struggling and I know that she was encouraged by yours and Andrea's faith. You will be hearing from her soon I am sure.

Love you guys and am sooooooo happy to hear of Andrea's recovery and good humor!! Like you say "small but mighty!"

Terri

Begin forwarded message:

From: TROY GILBERT

Date: January 6, 2007 11:30:37 AM CST

To: Terri Otto

Subject: Friend of Jenn Gordon's

Terri

My name is Ginger Gilbert. I am a good friend of Jenn Gordon's. She forwarded me an email from Jim about his wife and their faith and it touched me. I don't know them or you at all. My husband was Troy and he was the F16 pilot who was killed in Iraq on Nov. 27th. I am a believer. I love the Lord but I am struggling. I am left with 5 small children and the reality is starting to sink in. I really needed the spiritual encouragement he enclosed in his email and wanted to email he and his wife if possible. Totally different situations but still pain is pain. If you think it would be okay could you send me his email address? Thanks so much.

Ginger

God, do you validate?

2012-01-19T09:53:00.001-05:00

To validate, to give legal force or officialconfirmation to; declare legally valid.

I know it has been a while since Ginger and I have written. I guess that is a sign our life is getting back to "normal." So busy you don't have time to write! However, this past week a reporter from USA Today interviewed Ginger and I for an article about our family. During the interview he asked me "What was the one thing you learned during your trial?" I thought about his question a lot since then and at church this past Sunday this blog came to me.

I think we all have a desire to knowwhat we believe is true; we all want to have our faith validated. But I think we keep this need buried deep inour subconscious for fear it is true, that maybe just maybe what we believe iswrong. I think Christians also have thisfear, what if God does not exist, what if Christ was just a man? So we seek validation of our faith. Normally we find our validation in life’sblessings. It seems logical we validateGod when we get what we want. I’m notsaying God does not bless us, far from that. I count my blessings everyday when I seeGinger and the kids. What I’m saying is if the only way you validate God iswhen life is going good then you will miss a chance to truly know God.

I guess when life’s trials come yourway you can get mad at God, you can feel cheated by God, you can feel forgottenby God, you can be left in a state of confusion as you try to connect the dotsof what you expected God to do and what is happening. I guess having gone through 4 years and 4months of cancer with Andrea I learned God could not be defined by what washappening. I could not have prayedharder, believed more, wanted something more then I wanted Andrea to behealed. I always imagined he greattestimony when she was healed. Oh howGod was going to use her after He healed her. But time and time again our prayers went unanswered. Unanswered in how we wanted themanswered. So it came down to this, wasGod true? Was He real or was I going to throw away all I had professed whenlife was going the way I wanted? Or washe bigger then my circumstances? WasChrist’s death about more then getting what I wanted? What was His purpose in my life? When I opened my mind to a truly sovereignGod I found validation of my God in the strangest of places, the ICU, as Iwatched helplessly as my wife laid her life her life down. She had the greatest faith I had ever witnessed;yet she did not doubt when cancer’s gripped proved too tight.

For me it was the trial that erodedeverything in my life that I had trusted in until one day it was just God and Isitting at a table. It was if He waslooking into my eyes and asking me “Well Jim, what now, with all of life’sdistraction removed, do you believe, do you still trust me?

You see there was a certain amount offaith I had placed in doctors and medicine. They offered confidence with all their education. Why do you think they hang their diploma onthe wall? It is always behind the doctor’schair. I think that is so you can see itwhen he tells you your wife has cancer. Thenthere are all the machines of our advanced 21^st centurysociety. MRIs. CT scans, tests aftertest that reveled the enemy to us. Butin the end that is all they could do, show me what we were fighting where thecancer was. So close I could touch it onthe screen, yet it was defiant to the end. All man’s knowledge failed us in stopping that black spot on the x-rayfrom taking my wife. But the one thingcancer never took was Andrea’s faith in God and I witnessed what it meant tobelieve. To believe because it is true, independent of our desires, andindependent of our expectations He is truth. He is sovereign.

In the end God did not let me down, Hereveled Himself to me. I just had to be willing to see Him thru my greatestfear, losing my wife. It was a processfor me to get to that point, but when I did, I knew. God was validated and Andrea left me thegreatest gift she could have given, an example of unwavering faith. I knew Iwas not alone at the loneliest time of my life.

At 1225 on Dec 17^th 2007 Itold the doctors it was time to remove Andrea from the ventilator. I remember every detail of that day, Iremember calling friends and family, I remember the fear in my son’s eyes, Iremember my struggle of giving up on my wife. I had been by her side every stepof this fight, her advocate at every doctor’s visit. I held her when she hurt. I cleaned up hervomit when the chemo took it toll. I shavedher head when her hair fell out. Iprayed with her every night, and through many nights when she could notsleep. And now I had to let her go and Iremember that moment. But as I thinkback I also remember the doctors and nurses left us alone in the end, just meand my two boys in the room. No longer didthe monitors display all the data about Andrea. All that technology that once was a testament to man’s ability suddenly wereblank, and I’m sure to the ICU staff we seemed so alone. But I knew different, I knew God was with usas He welcomed His daughter home. I was not alone, I given up on placing myhope in man, doctors and machines. God had been validated in my life not bywhat I saw or by getting what I wanted but by the opposite, by letting go ofall I wanted. Then I saw His love for mein ways I could have never seen or felt if I only looked for God in ablessing.

My question to you is this; Where isyour hope? Where is your faith? Is it only in what you have or what youget? Where do you seek validation? I offer this thought don’t forget to look inyour trials because you might be surprised what you find when you allow yourselfto let go of what you want and allow God to meet you in your pain. Trust me I understand how dark the night canbe and how lonely life can feel when you lose it all. I have been in that stormyou are facing and I did not wait for it to end to find God, strangely I foundhim in the mist of the storm. When thewaves were crashing over me and I was struggling for every breath struggling tomake it. Not to the next month or the nextday but at times hoping to make it to the next minute. He is there with you, His words are truth, andHis promises are real.

There was a time I was so exhausted from struggling against what was happening in my life until one day I had no more strength in me and that is when God said, "Finally you are ready to listen." This is what I wrote that day, a day in the middle of the storm a time when I had no idea which way was up, where I was going or how I was getting there. It was dark and I was lost in my pain.

No voice is as loud as one spoken intotal silence

No light is as bright as one shown in total darkness.

My prayer is that those who are intotal darkness and total silence is you will hear His whisper and see His light. It may be faint and dim but I promise He isthere and you will find validation of God in place you never thoughtpossible.

In Christ,

Jim

Holes in the Floor of Heaven

2011-08-10T11:54:00.000-04:00

I run across sweet folks all the time that tell me they check our blog and we don’t ever write on it anymore. Many reasons why the blog is empty these days. I guess the main one is life is full.

As I type this I am on a plane leaving one speaking engagement and headed to the next. What an odd-fellow I sometimes feel as I use my American Express Business card, meet people in unfamiliar circles and travel across the country sharing God’s story of Troy’s life and my re-birth. A little funny at times because after my couple of days of being the gal about town, I go back to making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, scrubbing toilets and doing some Barbie’s hair for the umpteenth time.

Life is unpredictable. We have moved back to San Antonio and it’s GOOD to be a Texan again. Though it was with many tears that we looked at the Florida panhandle in our rearview mirrors. I loved our humble town, the sweet friends we made there and the awe-inspiring beauty of white sand beaches and azure water.

My life compass, though, seems to always point me back to Texas.

We’ve only been back a few weeks but they have been busy ones. Not only was our family’s early separation (Jim returned to TX for work 6 weeks before the kids and I) driving our quick-turn move after the kids finished school in FL but we had a wedding to attend.

And not just any old wedding, I might add. But another wedding birthed straight from the depths of suffering into the radiant light of the Master’s plan.

We have written blogs about Brad and Sarah Sullivan. Our earthly friendship with sweet Sarah was short. But Brad and Chloe have remained a constant on our family’s prayer request. The Lord, in His infinite mercies, brought Jenifer Wims not only into Brad’s life but into ours as well. Jenny and Brad married on Memorial Day in San Antonio and we were rejoicing for them both. Jenny lost her first husband to cancer just months before Brad lost Sarah. Jenny and her two children, like me and mine, were the ones left behind, missing a devoted husband and father.

As I watched them standing under the shady oak trees by the meandering river profess their love and commitment to one another, my heart stirred. My heart wept. In joy. In thankfulness. In rememberance. Just three years ago, that was Jim and I.

Life comes full circle.

……And life’s fullness is just now letting me finish this blog I started at the beginning of the summer! It’s August now and almost time for the kids to return to school. I can’t bring myself to say it feels any closer to fall, though, since the gauge in my car continually says it’s over 100 degrees. Ah, the Texas heat and this year’s drought. It feels like a curse from Heaven but I hear it’s just El Nina.

Again another way God will delight us with Heaven; perfect weather all the time. I bought the girls a book this summer about Heaven. Someone in our house always seems to be bringing the topic of Heaven up. We have had many animated conversations discussing the wonder of it. Are there spiral staircases? Are animals there? Will we all wear white robes?

One thing I often wonder about is this; can the saints up there ever get a glimpse of down here? Most of the time I would guess no. Even with their now-eternal perspective, I just can’t imagine what delight would come from viewing what a painful mess this earthly painting must look like. Yet, there are days that I just can’t imagine them NOT getting to see. Greyson walking into a church camp this summer where he knew no one and walking out a week later chosen by the staff as Camper of the Week. He displayed discipleship, leadership, love, courage… All the things Troy had worked diligently to grow from planted seeds those first 6 years of Greyson’s life with his Dad. Boston and Greyson blessedly choosing to be baptized this summer, Jim’s arms holding them as he immersed them in the waters and Troy’s mom and dad there in the first pew. Days like those. Holes in the floor of Heaven? There are moments I sure hope there are.

This morning I finished a book I began back in Florida. “One Thousand Gifts” is the title. A mom of 6 kids, a farmer’s wife, a woman seeking the face of God in the everyday mundane was challenged to write down one thousand things she was thankful for. In the process, her perspective was changed and real joy was found. The crosses she carried were different than mine. Early sexual abuse and death of a little sister among them, but she reminds me to offer thanks, even when it’s hard.

Psalm 50:23 “He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me, and he prepares the way so that I may show him the salvation of God”.

I don’t think the Lord would call it a sacrifice it He knew, at times, it wasn’t going to be easy to be thankful. The author, Ann Voskamp, writes: “The act of sacrificing thank offerings to God- even the bread and cup of cost, for cancer and crucifixion- this prepares the way for God to show us His fullest salvation from bitter, angry, resentful lives and from all the sin that estranges us to Him”.

Not salvation from hell. We have that the moment we enter into real relationship with Christ. But salvation from partaking of the bitter cup that sits on the table of suffering before us. Salvation from letting that daily drink replace our daily manna and turn us into empty, angry shells of who we were. It’s easier to do that, the giving in to the unforgiving hurt, than it is to work out the scarring knots of a broken and bruised heart so you can still have the capacity to wholly live and love again.

I met with some other widows at Focus on the Family this summer. Face to face. Heart to heart. There is so much pain etched across the faces of these beautiful women. It’s so familiar to me. We talked about thankfulness. Not FOR what had happened in our lives, but IN it all. To find something in each day to be thankful for, with the hopes that through that act of recognition, we could see God is still good. We could remember that He knows loss too. God watched His Son suffer, so that our struggles and pain in this life would only be a short walk into a journey of eternal peace . And just maybe, too, that our life here can be full even after it’s emptied out.

Romans 8:32 “He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all – how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?”

A challenge that even on days such as these, that 31 brave Navy Seals would lose their lives at the hands of evil, that their loved ones receive that familiar knock on the door…. That my new friend, Kelley (a Navy Seal widow herself just over a year ago) would now have to carry her friends and sit by more gravesides. On days where there is nothing we can come up with to be thankful for, we can always be thankful for Christ’s Cross.

I reminded the ladies, and myself, that feeling like God is absent and feeling like there is no hope are just that –feelings - and feelings can lie. I can remember those many days of lying on the floor of my closet, with my heart broken and my cries to Him seeming to fall of deaf ears. I am thankful for the perspective now. The way I can look back and know that outside of my closet walls, Jesus was there working in my house, providing others to parent my kids, healing and paving the way for joy to enter into our lives again. Down the road, upstream from those long and weary days and now, into my daily “new normal” life. I am not a patient thing when it comes to waiting. And it takes years to gain perspective.

One of my favorite things I read in this book of “One Thousand Things” was what she wrote about this very subject. She writes “In time, years, dust settles. In memory, ages, God emerges. Then when we look back, we see God’s back. Wasn’t that too His way with Moses?”

Exodus 33:22-23 “When My glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with My hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove My hand and you will see My back.”

Ann writes on, “Is that it? When it gets dark, it’s only because God has tucked me in a cleft of the rock and covered me, protected, with His hand? In the pitch, I feel like I’m falling, sense the bridge giving way, God long absent. In the dark, the bridge and my world shakes, cracking dreams. But maybe this is true in reality: It is in the dark that God is passing by. The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, god is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can’t see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ IS most present to us, I-beam supporting in earthquake. Then He will remove His hand. Then we will look. Then we look back and see His back. God reveals Himself in rearview mirrors. And I’ve an inkling that there are times we need to drive a long, long distance before we can look back and see God’s back in the rearview mirror.”

I wish I would have written that but I sure am glad I, at least, read it. I know there are so many who are waiting; waiting for healing, waiting for an answer, waiting for the loneliness to end and the pain to subside. Waiting to see God’s back.

This is such an everyday choice. The choosing to see in the dark that God is still love and that above all the gloomy rain clouds, the sun is still shining above it all. The Son is still shining above it all. And just maybe the Son lets a little sun shine through the holes in the floor of Heaven and Troy sees his children, by God’s mercy, thriving and living and laughing and loving and being little lights at church camp and coming up out of the baptismal in Jim’s arms and trying to trust Him no matter what. Lord, please help me to trust You, no matter what.

Words from Laura Story’s “Blessings”:

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace . Comfort for family, protection while we sleep . We pray for healing, for prosperity.  We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering.   All the while, You hear each spoken need . Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things  . Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?  What if Your healing comes through tears ? What if a thousand sleepless nights  Are what it takes to know You’re near?   What if trials of this life  Are Your mercies in disguise?   We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear . We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near . We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love . As if every promise from Your Word is not enough  . And all the while You hear each desperate plea . And long that we'd have faith to believe  . Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops . What if Your healing comes through tears?  What if a thousand sleepless nights  Are what it takes to know You’re near?   And what if trials of this life  Are Your mercies in disguise  ? When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win . We know the pain reminds this heart 

That this is not, this is not our home . It's not our home  . Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops . What if Your healing comes through tears?  And what if a thousand sleepless nights  Are what it takes to know You’re near?   What if my greatest disappointments  Or the achings of this life  Is the revealing of a greater thirst  This world can’t satisfy?   And what if trials of this life  The rain, the storms, the hardest nights  Are Your mercies in disguise?

Mighty to Save

2011-02-01T20:33:00.000-05:00

Warning: The much-needed and much-pondered over blog I intended to write on November 27^th to mark the 4 year anniversary of Troy’s Homegoing will not be what this one today is about. That one will be popping up later.

Today, (actually this whole week) the Lord has revealed Himself to me in such powerful ways I just felt compelled (I love that word!) to jot down my thoughts so the magnitude of it wouldn’t fade in my aging memory.

As I type this I am sitting alone in a hotel room in Orlando. Actually far from alone, I have Jesus as my constant companion! Anyway, God has opened the door for me to begin speaking on a regular basis for the Folds of Honor, a non-profit organization that was founded four years ago by an F-16 reserve pilot and professional golfer, Major Dan Rooney. His story is amazing. He has done several tours in Iraq. One day he was actually on a commercial flight and the captain came on the intercom and asked that the passengers remain seated upon their arrival destination so that a fallen soldier, whose body was being transported in a casket under their aircraft, could be taken off the plane and his family could receive it in privacy. Dan watched out his small plane window. God gave him a perfect view of this family’s war homecoming. A young son seeing his father’s casket. So much pain. Dan cried. Then Dan noticed many of the passengers on the plane were getting antsy to go and they began to get up and exit the plane anyway, despite the pilot’s request and the somber scene taking place just feet away. Then and there Dan decided our fallen heroes and their families were certainly not being honored as they should. Long story short, Dan with his military background, PGA connections, charismatic personality and the big green light from God has now, in just 4 years, raised 8.5 million dollars to provide college scholarships for children and spouses of wounded and fallen soldiers.

I was introduced to Dan through mutual F-16 friends. I guess you could say the rest is history. My children were the first to receive scholarships and today I sit on the staff of his organization, the Folds of Honor (meaning the 13 folds that occur in the folded flag), and have been sharing Troy’s story and my journey already to thousands of folks.

That is what brought me to Orlando and has now brought me to my knees. Actually my amazing friend, Faye Green, has brought me to my knees. I think I have mentioned her in previous posts but in short she is the 107 pound, older (Ok not older just my mom’s age J) African American (though Faye says it’s okay to say black J) mighty woman of God. She and her precious husband, Lin, became friends of mine and Troy’s years ago when we first met at our church in Phoenix. Ever since they have been my surrogate parents. Always loving. Always there for me. Always lifting my head. Always making me laugh. Always making me thankful for things no matter what the circumstance. Always an inspiration. Always pointing me to God. However, through it all, Auntie Faye has ALWAYS been very sick. Among other things Faye has suffered from Sickle Cell, Cancer, Lupus, MS and a host of other unthinkable diseases that alone would be enough for you and I to lie in the bed and never get up again.

I have watched Faye be so weak she can barely speak. I have watched her be so strong she has cleaned my house, done my laundry, helped me raise the kids and generally just held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own. Lin is the same version of Faye, just a little less feisty. He became like a father to me while we were in Phoenix. Always checking on me, doing household repairs, insisting on installing fly catchers on my patio (he hates flies) and in that gentle voice always calling me his daughter. In fact when I married Jim (the first time in our impromptu last minute wedding in Phoenix May of ’08) Uncle Lin gave me away at our wedding. Faye was so sick at that the time they were unable to even stay for the reception. But she was there, cheering me on and thanking the Lord for answering her prayers and giving me Jim.

I just found out last night, Faye went back into the hospital. She has been scaring us lately. In and out of the hospital constantly for the last couple of months. She is just so sick. She can’t keep anything down. She is weak. But Faye’s God, He is strong!

Earlier yesterday, I received a text from Faye that simply said “Just want you to know that I am praying for you this week! God will use you in a mighty way! I love you!” Never once mentioning she was even in the hospital for uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhea as the lupus is deteriorating her muscles. I found that out last night from Jim.

I was on my knees this morning praying for her. She needs healing from all this suffering. I then opened my Bible for the first time during this busy week. This has probably happened to you but if it hasn’t, it blows your socks off. I literally opened my Bible to this page and to this Scripture. God clearly wanted me to know it, rest in it and share it.

Job 42:1-6

Then Job replied to the Lord, “I know that You can do all things, no plan of Yours can be thwarted. You (God) asked ‘Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?’ Surely I (Job) spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.” You (God) said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you (Job) and you shall answer Me.’ My (Job) ears had heard of You (God) but now my eyes have seen You. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.”

Job had been angry with God for all the pain and suffering God had allowed in his life. Especially to a righteous man like himself. He was mad that God had been so silent and Job had spent some time just “letting God have it” earlier in the chapter. God listened and waited. And listened and waited. Then finally He spoke. He basically reminded Job that He was the Creator and Ruler of the Universe and that He still loved Job and needed Job to trust Him, no matter his circumstances. This scripture was Job’s humble response. Basically saying to God that he knew he had harbored bitterness and was speaking without seeing the full picture of all God was doing. I will quote from this awesome version of my Bible’s commentary (the Quest)

“Earlier, Job was convinced that God was angry with him and the he had become God’s enemy. He cursed the day of his birth because of the suffering he was experiencing. He was angry at God’s silence and demanded that his arguments be heard. He wanted to do what God had failed to do- provide his vindication. But after God had finished speaking, Job acknowledged he had been talking over his head- beyond his understanding. Even though Job never received a reason for his suffering. It was sufficient for him to know that t=a reason exited. If he had to do it over, Job probably would have tried to trust God a little more and complain a whole lot less. Part of Job’s problem had been with what he did not know. Now that he had encountered the sovereign God, Job regretted the presumptuous statements he had make about God. Job had come to realize that God was sovereign over the moral order of the world, and that nothing could happen apart from his permission. Perhaps the most comforting revelation of all for Job was that God was still his friend. Though He seemed silent or even absent, God was no mere spectator of Job’s suffering. He was with him through the experience.”

I love verse 5 that says, “My ears had heard of You but now my eyes have seen You.”

I hate bumper stickers but that might be the one I would put on my SUV.

For the last week I have been sharing my story, scratch that, GOD’S STORY, here at the national PGA show in Orlando. The Folds of Honor raises its scholarship money essentially through golf tournaments, etc… Yesterday I watched as the CEO of the PGA, Joe Steranka, who is probably the most powerfully influential man in all of professional sports, wept as I shared about who Troy was, what happened to him and what God has brought me through. The pain and the challenges but the victories too…. He kissed me on the cheek and said “thank you”.

I am literally worlds away from my usual role as peanut butter and jelly maker and carpooler. Here I am a soccer mom and military widow with a powerful message telling the most well-known executives in the golfing business that Christ is faithful even in the darkest of valleys. Meanwhile Jim is home making chicken fried steak (Troy’s favorite) for our kids AND their friends, taking them to school, tending to their needs and LOVING every minute of it. (Really! I just talked to him!) Now who couldn’t believe that only God Himself could do something that crazy!?

I texted Auntie Faye back and told her I was praying for her and that God is mighty to save. He saved me. He will save her. We ask for the kind of saving we want and we understand – healing on this earth (right now, please God!), no more suffering, long joyful life with Lin, etc… Yet we know the Lord saves in all kinds of other ways.

People that never NEVER would have heard the name of Major Troy Gilbert while he was living now hear about him and his God and their lives are changed for the better.

Did I want it to happen this way? Never in a million years. Do I want to be in the center of God’s will? Do I want to trust Him for today and for tomorrow? Yes. I do. That doesn’t mean I am not, at times, scared of the future. Frightened by what He might ask me to endure. But again, this one sentence ALL MORNING is absolutely resounding in my head:

HE IS MIGHTY TO SAVE!

Three Years

2010-12-17T09:56:00.003-05:00

Dec 17th Marks the third anniversary of Andrea's passing. This blog is from an email I sent yesterday.

Today I'm Remembering the amazing woman that Andrea was; so thankful to have known and loved her. I carry her strength and faith with me everyday.

When I first saw Andrea I saw in her eyes all I wanted and needed in life in her eyes . I saw something I had never seen before. She was different. I saw her spirit, her unwavering faith. In my soul I knew I needed what she had.

Over the 27 yrs 7 months and 28 days that followed I saw her live out a faith I have yet to witness in another person. It was so simple for Andrea, she just believed. She hoped with all hope, prayed with fervor, but above all she trusted God. It was what I saw in her eyes on April 19 1980.

Last month Ginger and I were asked to share our story at a local church. As I was telling Andrea's story I told of the moment she passed. I prayed over her and I sang to her a song we used to sing together in our church.

"Here's my life I lay it down, I lay it down I surrender it all to you I surrender it all to you. I let go and give it to you."

Only as I sang in her ear I changed the word "life" with "wife" and "it" with "her" When I finished that song and stood up the doctor walked in and told me Andrea had passed it was 1:07.

As I shared that story it hit me, I had what I saw in Andrea's eyes on Apr 19.

She had taught me to trust God with my most prized possession, her. I could not have ever sung those words without a faith in my sovereign God. A God Andrea showed me everyday. I remembered her last words to me as I took her into the ER. "Jim you have to be strong now." Words for the moment but also words I would need for the rest of my life. I think she knew she was leaving me and she knew how I relied on her and her faith. But I think she saw in me the growth as we battled cancer. She knew I had to believe and trust on my own. I think her words were more for today then for that night. She asked me one day, "Jim what are you going to do when this is all over? You can't believe just because I'm sick because one day this will end and you still have to trust." From the day I first saw her she was preparing me for Dec 17 2007. She summed it up in her last words. "You have to be strong now". Time to face life without her to believe without her, to trust without her because she knew I would not enter heaven because I knew her but because I know Christ. She introduced me to Him and she left me with him. She poured out her life in sacrifice to introduce us all to a God worthy of our trust. Even when it does not make sense she trusted. We should do no less.

I know God loves me and you and whatever love we have for Andrea pales in comparison to God's love for her. He never left her, I know He was in the ICU room with us comforting His daughter.

So as I face this day and stop to remember her at 1:07 I will remember her unwavering faith and pray God grants me a drop of the faith Andrea lived everyday. And I will remember she wears a crown today. I see her happy. I see her beautiful smile and her eyes light up as she received her reward for a faithful life. A life that changed so many.

I know one day I will see her again because she led me to a personal relationship with Christ. For that I am truly eternally grateful to her. I will never forget her because she changed my life for eternity.

She truly was "A woman of faith"

Blessings to each of you as we celebrate Christ's birth. The greatest gift when God' son took on flesh only to lay it down for us. The gift that Andrea's rejoices in today as she knows, not by faith but by sight, the gift that will one day reunite all of us again. It is not if we will see her again but when we see her, and that more then all my pain and my sadness and beyond my tears is what I remember today. Because that is what I saw I her beautiful blues eyes on April 19th.

In memory of my wife Andrea,

Jim

Remember

2010-11-02T21:53:00.003-04:00

I never thought writing on our blog would end up being an annual thing! Wow, I haven’t posted in a looooong time. It’s not that there haven’t been many times I have wished to or had things on my heart that I wanted to share. It has been more about lack of time and energy to do so. Life is busy with a capital B! And I guess, in a way, that means a lot of healing has taken place in my heart and in Jim’s heart. The fact that we are living each year more and more “normally” (whatever that means) must mean something remarkable has happened to allow us to do that. As Martha Stewart would say, it’s a good thing.

Or is it?

Yesterday, “normal” life hit me hard and the way I responded to it still makes me want to hide my face from God Himself. He and I have talked and we are okay. Yet I was compelled to just sit down and type out a bit of it for you (on another change – my Mac laptop!).

Let me say one reason I haven’t blogged in a long time is because I felt this need to catch everyone up. And frankly that thought just exhausts me. Suffice to say the Lord is working in our lives and our family. Jim and I are still finding out who we are as this new couple. We still work at finding where Andrea and Troy fit into our daily lives. They are ever present in our hearts. But what should that look like in our marriage, parenting, etc…? The kids are doing well. Jim’s boys had some major life events happen to them this year. Nic married Kate in the spring. Anthony began college this fall. Our Boston will become a teenager next week. Greyson is learning to cook and play the guitar. Bella is growing into a full up girl now. And Aspen and Annalise are teetering on the line of being the little bitty to being a force to be reckoned with!

There were a lot of emotions as I watched Nic get married and Anthony graduate from High School this year. Here were two momentous life occasions I know Andrea had been dreaming of since they were little. My heart hurt at Nic’s wedding, as I knew she should have been there instead of me. It wasn’t my rightful place. Yet, in God’s plan, there I was. It was the first of many occasions for both Jim and I that we must learn how to be these new people He has called us to be.

New. I have always really liked that word. New cars, new houses, new adventures, new foods…. It all sounds exciting and full of promise. But when Christ calls us to be new what does that look like?

Ephesians 4: 21-24

“Surely you heard of Him (Christ) and were taught in Him in accordance with the truth that is in Jesus. You were taught with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

Key phrase in there is “made new in the attitude of your minds”. See, that is the absolute ONE thing I will tell you should come out of the horrific nightmare that losing a spouse is. Ok, the ONE thing that should come out of the horrific nightmare that losing a spouse is IF you have walked through it all with Jesus as your fellow sojourner.

Now back to what happened yesterday. I had a small breakdown. Jim and I have been discussing the “what’s next” options for his next job. Seems simple enough. But really there is so much to it all that it would bore you to tears if you gave you all the details, so let me just say, Jim’s talent and experience can take him many different directions and for the first time he really has some difficult choices to make about career, retirement, etc…

Now, I have always been the girl that raises her hand if someone is handing out a new idea or adventure to try. I have had every hairstyle and color combination known to man (woman). I have successfully loved living and traveling overseas. I can make quick decisions to change houses, cars, jobs, you name it. So I don’t know what has gotten into me? Maybe the fact that my life and my kids’ lives all changed SO dramatically with a simple knock on my door almost four years ago that I am still trying to recover. In the last four years I lost my husband, I checked “widow” in the status box of my kids’ school forms, I became a single mother of five, I moved to another house, I almost died inside, I began dating for the first time in 15 years, I spoke on national news, I moved to another state, I fell in love, I re-married, I became a stepmother, I moved again, I became a public speaker, …. Okay, now I remember what has gotten into me- insanity! J

But in and through all that craziness and sorrow, Christ was there. He was with me. He was with my children. He protected me, at times from myself. He showed me miracles. He provided for me. He lifted my head. He cast out fear. He loved me through His people on earth. He gave me wisdom. He understood my anger. He restored my health. He gave me strength. He gave me light. He covered my children. He gave me hope.

And though at times I questioned it, He showed me He can be trusted and He is faithful and there is nothing under the sun He cannot do for His child.

So, yesterday, after many many talks between Jim and I about our future, about the options, the possibilities, the what-ifs, etc… I found myself crying my eyes out. I found myself so overwrought with the possibilities, some of which might be hard, all of which are going to require more work and more change, that I felt fear like I haven’t felt in a long time. I went to the bedroom to curl up in a ball and just wallow in a good dose of frustration and worry (mainly over the kids and what one or more moves will mean to them and what the unknown is doing to me). Jim came in, with that calm grace that I have seen him exhibit before and sat on the bed and told me this: “Ginger, one of the biggest things I learned during the four and half years Andrea had cancer was that we can only do so much, then we must just pray, actively research options, wait and trust in what the Lord would reveal eventually. As a family, we now must do that our future.”

And you know what my statement was? “I don’t want to have to ask the kids to trust God with any other big thing. They have already had to trust Him for so many huge things. It’s just not fair!”

Oh my goodness. Did that just come out of my mouth? Jim tried to comfort me some more then went on to get dinner on the table. I just lay there and wept. Now not for my life being uprooted again but for the shame I felt before my Savior. I told Him, “Lord, I am so ashamed I just said that, that I thought that!” What on earth did I mean by I did not want my children to have to trust the Lord for anything else? In the months and now years since Troy’s death, my children and I have learned what walking by faith looks like. What trust in the Lord with all your heart even when you don’t understand ANYTHING looks like. We have seen Him miraculously answer our prayers. We know things we never would have known. If I want my kids to have all these fabulous experiences in life, like travel or opportunities to do cool things, why on earth would I not all the more want my kids to know Jesus better? To know how it feels to put all their confidence and trust in Him? You know why? Because sometimes there is some major pain that precedes it?

C.S. Lewis said “We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us, we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

Frankly, I just don’t want to sign myself, Jim or any of our kids up for the pain route again. I want to dodge it like a bullet. That is what I have been working myself silly trying to do with planning for our next move and consequently for the rest of our lives at the same time!

And finally yesterday, fear and the Enemy caught up with me.

As I lay there many flashbacks of God’s provisions came upon me. From November 27, 2006 to today, November 2, 2010 I could remember countless ways God brought us through the darkness. And I just told Him how sorry I was for forgetting. Just like the Israelites struggled with the same exact thing. God knew they were going to face some hard times so he warns them over and over to not forget His faithfulness.

Deuteronomy 6:10-12

“When the Lord your God brings you into the land He swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give – a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant – then when you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery”

Hello to myself! Flourishing cities, I didn’t build; houses filled with good things I didn’t provide, vineyards and groves I didn’t plant, eating and being satisfied… That’s my life he’s talking about! Compared to that dark day in November, this November is bright and it is flourishing! How could I ever for one minute lose sight of that contrast? Now, you may think I am being hard on myself OR you may think I should still be on my face seeking Jesus because I have obviously lost it! And honestly there were many times the first year after Troy died that I wanted to just smack someone when told me the latter. Rightfully so. Because, though they generally had our best interests at heart, when they told me I should be feeling this way or doing that thing I just couldn’t express how incapable I felt. Not to mention I simply hadn’t gone far enough down the faith road with Jesus yet. I didn’t have all the fulfilled promises to recall that I do now. And frankly, it was too soon to be telling me anything! J

BUT now, now that I am standing further back from the heartache, now that I do have happiness again, now that I have lost count of the good deeds He has done for me,… Now I confess I am in need of some reminding.

I am reading Mary Beth Curtis Chapman’s new book “Choosing to See”. It takes a while to get to the part I was wanting to hear about; the tragic accident of her youngest daughter being run over by her second oldest son in their driveway back in 2008. It is real book about people of real faith who as she puts it “learn to do hard”. Her oldest son wrote something he read at his little sister’s funeral that I thought quite eloquently, especially for a teenage boy, described all of this: (taken from page 176)

“The only analogy I can come up with is this: it’s like God is an abstract artist…and when you’re real close to a painting like this, it’s hard to focus, it’s blurred and you can’t see what’s going on. You have to walk really far back, and then the whole painting comes into focus and you can see what the artist was doing..”

(Incidentally Steven Curtis Chapman’s CD “Beauty Will Rise” is one of the most phenomenal collection of songs on suffering with hope I have ever heard.)

Deuteronomy 8:2-3

“Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the desert these forty years to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep His commands. He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”

I am not saying that my heart doesn’t have any trepidation and that there won’t be many more times when fear and anxiety creep in. I believe God is compassionate and has a never- ending supply of patience. He is a Father Himself so I know He is with me as I desire love, security and success in my children’s futures. He doesn’t fault me for wanting a nice home, great schools, an amazing church and friends and satisfying job for Jim. And when I start trying to figure out the where’s, the how’s, the what’s of the next year I can tell you I want to start making plans like yesterday. The Lord knows how much upheaval and change my kids have faced and how I want security for them after all they have been through. And I know we will probably have to yank up our Florida roots and go replant them more than once. I know it will not be easy for the older kids to understand. But I do know God gave me a husband and the kids a father not just to fill an empty role but one that gained wisdom from his own longer painful journey to share with us. Jim and Andrea were forced to learn blind trust one of the hardest ways possible.

I think Jim and I will spending a lifetime reminding each other to just step back from the abstract mess and look back at the masterpiece God has created in our lives.

As I was reading verses in Deuteronomy, the Lord showed me one I have honestly no memory of reading until today. I think He saved it for a time such as this.

Deuteronomy 6:20-23

“In the future, when your son asks you, “What is the meaning of the stipulations, decrees and laws the Lord our God has commanded you?” tell him: ”We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, but the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a might hand. Before our eyes the Lord sent miraculous signs and wonders – great and terrible – upon Egypt and Pharaoh and his whole household. But He has brought us out from there to bring us in and give us the land that He promised on oath to our forefathers.”

Thank you Lord!

Andrea's Journal Feb 24 06

2010-10-10T08:13:00.000-04:00

We went to church last Wednesday night. At first I was too tried to go and thought about staying home. Anthony even asked me “Why do we have to go to church on Wednesday, isn’t Sunday the Lord’s Day?” I told him, “Every day is the Lords day and I need to go to church tonight. I have to.” It was as if I had a divine appointment that my spirit knew I had to keep. The music was a blessing. I think the second song was “Healing cleansing fire of the Lord is in this place.” I believe I have a Father who knows my name, He hears each prayer I pray, and He hears me when I call. I wanted to close my eyes but I also wanted to sing but I didn’t know all the words. I was conflicted in my spirit. I closed my eyes ad began to sing in the spirit the most beautiful love language I ever uttered. The words flowed from my innermost soul and communicated to my Father my love for Him. I acknowledged Him for all He is to me. How He hears every prayer, sees all my tears, and loves me. I was engulfed in His presence. I was telling God how I never wanted to leave His presence as the song was ending. During the sermon I felt the message was directed to me. It was on devine purpose and started with Romans 8:28, “All things work together for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.”

Later that night as I laid in bed I felt God was present in my room, just above the window. Of course I know God is everywhere, but I began to talk to Him and felt a communication with Him. We talked about many things. I asked Him to bless the people who have helped me. I thanked Him for them all and Jim and the boys. I told Him I don’t want to go to the hospital on Thursday to have the fluid drained from around my lung, but not my will but His be done. Then I felt Him ask me to be honest and tell Him if I wanted to be used by Him by going to the hospital, was that what I wanted. I said I really don’t want to but if he wanted me to. Then I started bargaining saying maybe I could meet whoever I was there for in some other way, maybe I could get a job at the hospital and witness in that way and then I felt Him say, “uh huh Andrea”...I said I was sorry for trying to meddle in His will. To which I felt Him say, “I’m asking you what is your heart’s desire?”

I told Him “I want to be finished with cancer. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be healed and glorify God through healing.” I felt contrite when I thought what if a person who was supposed to witness to my sons didn’t want to persevere? How awful. I thought about the blessings I may be giving up. I felt so out of strength to carry on. Yet I know God always provides what we need.

Andrea's Journal March 14 06

2010-10-04T12:54:00.000-04:00

Joshua 1:5

No one will be able to stand up against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Joshua 3:5

Joshua told the people, "Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the LORD will do amazing things among you."

Father, Your mercy endures forever. I fall on my face before You. I love You. Thanks You for giving me my appetite back. I pray I will gain 3 lbs. I praise You for who You are. You created me and You love me. You have fortified or faith by Your faithfulness. Today I arise and give You the day.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

2010-10-03T09:51:00.000-04:00

Okay, I know it has been a while sense Ginger and I have posted anything on the blog. It's not that we have not had anything to post it is just finding the time to sit down and write that has been the issue. Although life has been busy, we have not forgotten the miracle that is our family.

One of my goals has been to take Andrea's journal writings and make a book that I could send to the chemo room in North Carolina. Andrea loved the people there and she always felt a compassion for the other patients who had to endure chemo. She would meet the new patients and offer encouragement as she knew the fear that came with walking into the chemo room for the first time. I remember when Andrea and I had our first tour of the chemo room. We walked into this large room of Lazy Boy recliners and I remember hoping we would have our own private room. We had just been told Andrea had cancer and I think in a way we did not believe it. You don't see yourself as one of those people in the room as if you don't belong and having a private room is a way of denying the truth that you do belong there. That somehow this is all a mistake and you don't have cancer. The words the doctor spoke sink on just a little more and your life has forever changed.

As it turned out being in the chemo room was a blessing, although you want to be alone, that is the last thing you need. When Jesus faced the cross he asked his closest disciples to pray with Him in the garden, we are not meant to face life's trials alone and having friends in the chemo room turned out to be the greatest blessing to Andrea and me. So leaving a book of her writings was was my way of continuing Andrea's desire to help others and our way to still be there with them.

Over the past two weeks I have started transferring Andrea's writings into my computer. It has been difficult as I read her words of hope and desire to be healed, but the pages were also filled with trust, wisdom and faith of a Godly woman. I decided to post some of her writings to the blog during Breast Cancer Awareness month.

All of these journal entries were written in 2005-2007 when Andrea was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. At the time the cancer had spread to her liver, lungs and bones. There was a lot of growth in our faith over those two years. There were times of despair, confusion and but God kept giving us a consistent message. I believe His message was specific to our needs but the example of God's faithfulness and love is what applies to all of us. I know the end result was not what Andrea nor I wanted, but I pray that does not distract you from words Andrea wrote. Sometimes life is not about what we want but what a sovereign God desires. In the end it came down to trust. I can tell you God provided all we needed just as His word say He will. I'm not sure what God is asking of you today as you read this blog, but I pray you will know your creator and sovereign God loves you. He has not left you nor forgotten you

I pray these entries encourage you if you are facing a trial or difficult situation in your life.

Jim

Andrea's Journal Entry April 3 2006

2010-03-03T09:54:00.001-05:00

Nahum 2:1

An attacker advances against you, Nineveh .
       Guard the fortress,
       watch the road,
       brace yourselves,
       marshal all your strength!

Lord that I may always be alert to the enemy and his tactics to distract and harm me. Help me to guard my heart and mind so that I don’t become discouraged and forget Your words to me. “I will be a light in a dark world, I will be a story. I will minister to people in need. I will feed Your sheep.” I love You Lord and thank you. You are the creator of all things and all people.

You love me and are my Father. You want to bless me and I am being used by You. I pray I never receive any glory but that you will be glorified through Jim and me.

If one person comes to know You it’s worth it all.

I pray we are faithful so that people will see and know You. Truly it is only by Your grace and mercy that I still stand today. Thank you for the faith You gave me as a young child. I have needed it more then ever before. Your grace is sufficient for me to lean on. Thank you for Your promises Lord. Truly life is a gift from You and You alone. Thank you Christ Jesus for being willing to die for me. How frightening it must have been for You in Your humanness and yet the Godliness in You took precedence and You gave Your life for our salvation and our healing. Help my faith grow every day. I know one life is only but one, and yet I give my life to You that others may come to know You. Spare my life I pray that I may give it up for You.

I love You!

Andrea

God's Miracle, Our Family

2010-02-21T18:46:00.001-05:00

Ginger has been away this weekend at a Church retreat. It was a much needed trip for Ginger. She was a leader in the woman's ministry in Phoenix and with our two moves in the past two years she has lost that connection. For me it was a chance to spend a weekend with the kids, also a much needed time for me. For those of you who do not know the kids it is hard for me to tell you what amazing kids they are without sounding pompous.

I took the kids to church yesterday and the women checking the kids in said, "Well I so proud of you for taking the kids to church while your wife is at the retreat." It struck we a little strange, where else would I be? I would have told her how easy they are but she would not have believed me. Church is a unique place for Ginger and I. There are so many ties to Troy and Andrea there. You always remember worshiping together because it is such a intimate place for a couple. There you let down every wall with your soulmate and grow in your faith together. You become one spiritually. But for me it is also a place to remember Troy. Especially yesterday as I sang with Boston, Greyson and Bella I felt Bella lean into me, I knew she needed the comfort of her dad's arm around her. It is times like this that I can't help but think of Troy. There are a few times in our life that I know exactly where Troy would be and in some way know what he would have been feeling. Telling Ginger goodnight on her birthday was one, and holding Bella at church was another.

Has I held her and thought of Troy, I thought of my role as their dad. Sometimes that is hard to say because I know Troy was their Dad and even though I adopted them all and legally I am their dad there is still a respect I owe Troy and I'm sensitive to that. We talk openly about Troy and Andrea to the kids but especially about Troy because it is important to Ginger and I that we build in the younger kids a memory of Troy. But God has called me to be their dad. As we sang this verse came to me. Now I'm not a Bible scholar and I could be taking this verse out of context but it spoke to me.

1 Corinthians 3 5-9

What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building.

This verse helped me see Troy's and my role as the kids fathers. He planted and I will water, together we are the kids dad and together we will raise them. Our roles were different is many ways but similar in many others. The goal the same, to teach the kids to love the Lord, to grow up and be Godly men and women. So as I held Bella I held her as her dad, praying I would live up to the task I have been called to do. I pray I will make Troy proud. I know I will make mistakes but hopefully I have learned something from having already raised two boys. I do know one thing for sure, the time goes by faster then you can imagine and our time to influence the kids is shorter then we think. So I cherish this weekend, and the time I got to spend with the kids. They are not a chore, they are my kids and they are a joy to raise.

As I write this blog there in one last link to my past. I have Andrea's old computer and for months I have been trying to transfer the files from it onto out new computer. It has all the emails Andrea wrote as she went through her treatments. There are pictures, words and music that define a time in my life. As I type this I'm listening to a playlist titled "believe" one I made for Andrea of her favorite songs to encourage her faith. They played many many times in our house. Another reminder of the immense cost paid for the life we now share.

I will close with a very touching note from Annalise because I think it ties this blog together perfectly. It shows the uniqueness of our family and the amazing kids Ginger and I are so blessed to raise.

The girls went to a birthday party yesterday and when they left the mom gave the girls each a helium filled balloon to take home. This morning the girls were drawing and coloring while the boys and i did chores. (We have to have the house clean for when Mom gets home!) Anyway, as I was working Bella asked me if she could write a note to God and tie it to the balloon and send it to Him. This is a small glimpse of what I'm trying to tell you about these kids. Anyway Bella wrote hers and sent it to God and then she wrote Aspen's and Annalise's for them, tied them to the balloon and brought them to me. I wanted to read Bella's note but I felt it was personal. I wish I had after reading Aspen's. Aspen's said: "Hello God, How is heaven? What do you wear? How is daddy? Tell him we said hello." Tears are in my eyes as I write this. When Annalise brought me hers I decided to take a picture of it. I wish I had done the same for Bella and Aspen.

Below is Annalise's note penned by Bella who said I wrote what she said.

It says:

Dear Dad How are you doing. What do you hear. Did you meet Ms Andrea. It was our birthday on February 10, 2010.

Not many 4 and 6 year olds have to take the time to write notes to God and their Daddy in Heaven and even fewer would have the compassion to ask if he had met my wife.

By the Grace of God, We Will Carry On

2010-02-01T23:48:00.002-05:00

As we sang this lyric in worship last week at church, I never thought one week later I would be sitting on an airplane to go help a friend in need. But life is like that. Truly from one week to the next, or as I know well, one moment to the next, our lives can take an unexpected turn. Sometimes, it’s for the better. Like the moment I met Jim. Sometimes, it’s for the worst, like the moment I got that knock at my door. Often it comes in the form of a phone call from a friend. Jim and I received two such phone calls in one week. The second one is the reason I am on this plane. All I can say for now is I have some friends in marital crisis. I am no marital counselor but I can stand witness to them that God is BIG enough even when our faith isn’t and He can overcome the worst of situations for His glory and for our good.

The first phone call was to tell us that a good friend of Jim and Andrea’s was killed while jogging one Saturday morning. Her name was Terri. I met her only once yet she held a special place in my heart. Three years ago, almost to the exact day she died, she forwarded Jim and Andrea’s ICU email update to my friend, Jennifer, and Jennifer forwarded it to me. That email where Jim talked about God being God. And that no matter if our circumstances changed He remained the same. The day I first heard of the amazing, brave couple named Jim and Andrea Ravella. My fingers still easily type their names together as I remember emailing them that year. They are still written in my address book under “R” as Jim and Andrea Ravella. Troy’s address in Balad is still written in there as well. I can’t seem to make myself mark either of them out. Like doing so would be disrespectful or something. Strange, I guess. The other day I signed my name Ginger Gilbert. It’s habit from years of writing it. Occasionally Jim will call me Andrea or I call him Troy. We smile and correct ourselves. It’s all part of the new normal.

Terri left behind her husband, Dave and their three children ages 7, 4 and 3 years old. The youngest is a precious little girl with Down’s Syndrome. Terri was yet another amazingly strong Christian who left behind a legacy of faithfulness and devotion to the Lord. Troy, Andrea, Sara and now Terri. I didn’t know her hardly at all but I wept for Dave and their children. I wondered if Andrea would greet her friend at Heaven’s door or wait until after Terri spent her time with Jesus?

Now I sit on a plane wondering what on earth I will tell my friend to encourage her in her faith and in her situation? I put my trust in Jesus when I was 9 years old. And I am not stopping now. He, alone, can make all things new. He, alone, has enough mercy, power, strength, love and grace to help us carry on.

Is it just me or maybe I am just more aware of it now….? This world is painful! Praise God it’s only a temporary address. Maybe it has to do with age. (40 is knocking loudly on my door!) Maybe the longer I live I have now begun to accumulate stories of suffering. I am not sure of the reason but I see so much sadness all around me. However, I am confident, the One holding the hand of those in the midst of that pain is the Hand of the only One that can heal it.

Psalm 108:6

"Save us and help us with Your right hand, that those You love may be delivered."

Psalm 138:7-8

"Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; You stretch Your hand against the anger of my foes, with Your right hand You save me. The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me..."

I remember reading this scripture and literally holding out my hand as I cried out to the Lord to grasp it. I remember wondering which hand do I hold out so that it will be His right hand that would grasp it. This thought proved to be challenging to me considering I was distraught, grief-stricken and tired that I couldn’t tell my right from my left. I was working at taking the Scriptures very literally so I certainly didn’t want to mess anything up on my end. I so wanted to feel His tender touch. The strength of His grip. My bony frail shaking hand enveloped in his mighty yet gentle reassuring touch. Did I ever feel Him stretching down from Heavenly places to do that? No. Well, yes. He did through other people, through the promises of His Word, through unexplainable circumstances of mercy or genorisity or compassion that would “touch” me or the kids in our weakest moments. Those things that get you through to the next moment where you can breathe a little easier.

Carrying on as it were. Don’t misunderstand. I did always want to carry on. When life punches us in the stomach and knocks the wind out of us, our first instinct is always “I can’t possibly carry on”. I can’t speak for anyone other than myself or Jim. But I can promise you, there wasn’t always the spring in our step we have today. I remember digging my heals in so deep I must have left marks in the carpet. I shouted to God. I DO NOT WANT TO CARRY ON! But, deep in my heart, I knew I had no choice but to carry on. My choice came later. HOW I carried on was up to me.

I drew inspiration from many others who walked my journey before me. People like Pastor Steve, Marlo and others. Characters in the Bible like David, Paul, Abraham and Job.

Job 6:10-11

“At least I can take comfort in this; Despite the pain, I have not denied the words of the Holy One. But I do not have the strength to endure. I do not have a goal that encourages me to carry on.”

I love Job. He just says it like it is. No dancing around the issue at hand or trying to fake it. Real honesty. But obviously as we read on, Job later chooses that he must carry on… Not that he doesn’t grapple with God’s ways or struggle with God’s decisions. He does.

Job 6:10-11

Job 30:15-16

“ I live in terror now. They hold me in contempt, and my prosperity has vanished as a cloud before a strong wind. And now my heart is broken. Depression haunts my days.”

Job 29:18

"I thought, `Surely I will die surrounded by my family after a long, good life.”

Job 16:2-5

"I have heard all this before. What miserable comforters you are! Won't you ever stop your flow of foolish words? What have I said that makes you speak so endlessly? I could say the same things if you were in my place. I could spout off my criticisms against you and shake my head at you. But that's not what I would do. I would speak in a way that helps you. I would try to take away your grief.

He listens to his so-called friends do their best to beat him down even further. He talks and talks and talks.

And when he is finished. God spoke.

Job 38:4

“Where were you, Job, when I laid the foundations of the earth?”

Job 38:24

“Where is the path to the origin of light? Where is the home of the east wind?"

God basically tells Job “I am God and you are not. So, in that, you must trust Me, no matter what. I have the answers and you don’t, Job. Now go pray for your miserable excuse for friends and hang on, because I am going to bless your socks off!” (This was my paraphrase of course)

Job 42:17

" Then he (Job) died, an old man who had lived a long, good life. "

I always remembered that Job questioned God but Job never denounced God. He never turned his back on God even when he felt God had turned His back on him. For that reason alone, Job gets an A+ in my book. I don’t think most people truly get Job until they feel like Job.

This Christmas, for the first time, I allowed the children to watch the video Troy had made of himself in Iraq. I have held onto it for three years waiting for the right time. The time when I thought the kids had healed enough but yet soon enough that they would never feel like I put their perfectly wonderful daddy on a shelf somewhere. Actually, when we had all healed enough to sit down together and soak it in.

As I have mentioned before, Troy made a video of himself to give to the kids for Christmas while he was deployed to Iraq. He mailed it the week prior to his crash. It was and will continue to be the last we moments we ever “heard or saw” of him in this life. He read books to the children that he had checked out from the Balad AFB library. He sat on the roof of a building with his mandatory machine gun strapped to his back, pulled up a metal folding chair and began reading “ Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus”. It was a sweet sight. He continued on from his bedroom/trailer and finished reading books to the kids and then the Christmas story from the Bible, which was our tradition. I remember the first time I watched it, I cried so hard that when I finally stopped and listened to the soothing sound of his voice it made me sort of calm and sleepy

Jim had a fabulous idea that we should hunt down each of the books’ titles on Amazon and pass them out to the kids before showing them the video. That way they could follow along as their dad read them stories for the last time. It was special to say the least. The kids and I laid on the bed and Jim sat beside us in the wing chair and we all shared a most unique experience of tangibly connecting our past and present in a very real way for the kids. Carrying on. By the grace of God.

I am returning home tonight. A long day. Visiting with my friend. Holding her. Crying with her. Listening to her. Praying with her. The on-your-knees-kind. She and her husband are like family to me. They were always there for me. Now it’s my turn. Though I have not been in either of their shoes, I know what walking around with your heart hanging out can do to a person. It’s exhausting. Though, I know God is able to carry us as we carry on. I reminded her God is still in the business of turning beauty from ashes.

Isaiah 61:3

“…and provide for those who grieve in Zion-- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.”

Kids Update

2010-01-31T17:09:00.000-05:00

Today Ginger is out of town visiting a friend and I'm at home handling my first ever solo Sunday with the kids. I managed to get to church on time which was minor compared to the real feat of the day...putting bows in the twins hair. That was a first and although not easy the girls talked me through it. Aspen was quick to tell me "it is not tight enough" and Bella told me the technique of separating the hair apart to force the rubber band down lower. After that I went to our bathroom and got a few bottles of Ginger hair spray and attempted to cover up my handy work of loose and crooked bows. In the end it was a success, at least I thought so. Looking at the picture below I'm not so sure the hair spray had th affect I was hoping for! It seems I got the wet dog look on Aspen. I also have to confess that it was about 38 this morning when I took this picture in the church parking lot. Guess I should have had jackets on the kids. Sorry Ginger...see we do need you!

Another accomplishment of the day was I learned how to post videos on our blog. I got a new iPhone for Christmas well actually Ginger did but I gave her my old one and I kept the new one. The great thing is I can take videos now with my phone and her are a few of the kids. For those of you who have not seen them in a while they are growing up fast.

This is the girls playing dress up one day. They requested a video of them twirling. Not sure why but girls love to twirl but they do! I love Bella's Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis look with the glasses.

This one is the girls 4th Birthday party. I met them on their second birthday hard to believe it has been two years!

This is another Birthday video.

Next are two videos of Greyson playing basketball. He loves basketball and if you look closely you will see his huge smile as he plays. Every time he gets the ball his face lights up with that smile. I love to watch him play he is just having so much fun you can't help but smile along with him.

My Struggles and My Joys

2010-01-09T18:13:00.004-05:00

Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

In my last blog I said I was going to write about my next anniversary...the day Ginger and I met. I had intended to write this blog during the Christmas break when "I had a lot of free time." Well it is Jan 9th and I finally sitting down to write, I guess I did not have as much free time as I thought. So I sit down at 6am on Saturday morning and begin a blog I have wanted to write but struggled with for a while.

I think there is a reason it has taken me this long to write this blog. I have always written with honesty because this blog is as much a record for me to read as it is for others. It is difficult to lose a spouse, but for me it was not so much the obvious pains you think about it has been difficult in other ways that I did not anticipate. Maybe it was the 4+year struggle with death that made the moment of losing Andrea less traumatic. It has taken me this long to write this blog in part because it has taken me this long to understand my feelings. Maybe if I had gone to counseling I would have understood this sooner, but that is water under the bridge. Maybe this blog is my counseling.

I'm sure if you have read this blog very long you have noticed my blogs reflect backwards on my life with Andrea. I have felt a sense of loyalty to Andrea and in some way to write about Ginger is to cheat on Andrea. I understand the word “cheat” may seem out of place here but I can’t think of another word to describe my feelings. Andrea was my first girlfriend, my first love, and I thought she would be my last. Never did I think my life would exist without her. Yet it does. And that has been my struggle. How do I live happy again without the guilt, as if I have benefited by losing Andrea. That somehow I could be so happy at the cost of Andrea and the life I had with her. For certain there is a struggle to ever feel happier then I did before. That seems totally wrong. How could I ever compare my life with Andrea to life with Ginger? I think it is in part is what makes it difficult for me to write a blog about my life with Ginger. This has been one of my greatest struggles after losing Andrea, the one that has taken me the longest to work through. This blog is the beginning of that process for me because I want you to know how blessed I am to have Ginger in my life. My love for Andrea was unique and one I thought I would never have again. Not because it was impossible but because I did not think God would bless me so abundantly again. There are so many examples of marriages that struggle so much divorce how could I be blessed with a marriage like I had with Andrea twice. It just seemed as if I was asking too much from God. I should be happy to have loved once in a lifetime and accept a “normal” existence. To expect a marriage like I had with Andrea just seemed greedy. Yet the love I feel from Ginger, and the love I feel for her has the same depth as I had with Andrea. Of course we are still getting to know each other, and truthfully that leads to disagreements and laughter as we both learn that we are not as normal as we thought. It is the natural process of becoming one, the same process I went though with Andrea early in our marriage. And I think that is key. I have to remember that I cannot compare my 20 months of marriage with Ginger to my 24+years of marriage to Andrea.

Another reason I think struggle is because of the time I met Ginger. I’ll be the first to admit it; I looked as though I had lost my mind when I decided to marry Ginger. I know it was very fast and I know it hurt people; sadly it hurt my boys the most. And truthfully theirs are the only feelings I care about. I would have never planned to meet Ginger so soon, but I did. Maybe I would not have this conflict in my life if there were 1-2 years between losing Andrea and meeting Ginger. Maybe, but at what cost? God’s direction in our life does not always fit our acceptable timelines. Maybe if I suffered longer, maybe if I had paid a bigger price I would feel I earned the right to love again. But you can ask Ginger what it is like to suffer alone. I think she would tell you if she could have ended her loneliness sooner she would have. If she could have put her life back together sooner she would have. So what is the right answer, I would tell you there is no right answer. There is no “right” way to loose a spouse and no “right” way to remarry afterwards. Just as there is no right way to meet your first spouse. I’m sure many of you reading this blog had parents or friends who thought you were making a mistake when you decided to get married. I know my family did when I met Andrea. I never intended to fall in love that quick, nor did I meet Ginger with the intent of starting a romantic relationship. I met her because we shared a common pain. When you loose a spouse you are suddenly thrown into a new social group, Widows and Widowers. You share a common experience that others cannot relate to. I’m not saying this to be mean or exclusive but if you have not lost your spouse you just can’t fully understand. It is the reason I apologized to Ginger in my first email after Andrea died, because in that moment I realized how little I understood about her loss. I had been trying to offer her comfort when I really did not comprehend what she was going through. Even though Andrea and I were facing death everyday I was not qualified to offer advice because I did so out of ignorance. Don’t get me wrong I was giving Ginger my best advice and I thought I was relating to her just has many people did for me and that advice and help is very needed, it is just that once you go thru that loss you realize how different it is and how you can never fully grasp the pain, the suffering and the feelings unless you have walked that path. Once I lost Andrea I needed to meet Ginger because I knew she understood what I was feeling. I knew that because I had read her emails over the past year. I now understood the pain she expressed in her words. I understood it because I was now a member of the same fraternity. It was out of that shared experience that our relationship grew, and it did not begin on Dec 25^th 2007 that was just the day we laid eyes on each other, it actually began the day Ginger emailed Andrea and me. We shared conversations that were far deeper then most email acquaintances would ever share. Ginger shared her deepest and most personal fears with us and we tried, best we could, to offer our words of encouragement and the faith God was growing in Andrea and me. So yes our relationship moved far faster then “normal” but it started from a shared experience of pain and suffering. It was founded upon our faith, a faith we had shared with each other over 11 months. I knew the most important thing about Ginger and that was she was a believer and I knew everything else would fall into place if we had that at the core of our relationship.

I think the final reason I struggle is because Ginger is so beautiful. I know that may seem strange; most men would find no problem with a stunningly beautiful wife. As an older bald guy she just seemed out of my league and it seemed impossible for someone like Ginger to love me. I felt inadequate. I also thought people would see me as someone who married Ginger solely for her looks. It could not be farther from the truth. I fell in love with Ginger because she was my soul mate and I needed her. Maybe I worry too much about what others think but I don’t want someone to look at me and think I’m just another mid life crisis with a young wife. That cheapens the amazing thing God did in our lives.

It was all these emotions that I have struggled with that in many ways have kept me from writing this blog. That was a longer introduction then I intended to write but I think it is important to explain my thoughts.

Dec 25^th 2007, eight days after I lost Andrea, four days after her funeral, not when I expected to meet my next wife, but I did. I had just left Wichita Falls where I was staying with Andrea’s family. I wrote a blog the night before we met, titled “a First and a Last” posted on Dec 24^th 2007. I was leaving Dallas to go to my sisters house for a few days and Ginger was with her parents who were moving from Clovis NM to San Angelo TX and she was on her way to Dallas to see her best friend Amy.

Actually I had first met Ginger Jan 2006 via email. I had sent an email update on Andrea when she went into the ICU for the first time. That email found it’s way to Ginger who was struggling with losing Troy. She wrote Andrea and I and over the next 11 months we shared emails about once a month. They were emails about Ginger’s struggles, her pain, grief and faith. They were at times very difficult to read because of the depth of pain expressed in her words. Andrea and I would pray and try to find the right words to encourage Ginger, but I will tell you it seemed impossible to find the words to tell her that “it is going to be okay” How could you say that? She had lost her husband, and strong Christian and loving husband. What words can you tell a mom left alone to raise five kids? They had a marriage very similar to ours and that made it all the more difficult to offer her comfort. I remember my first email to her after Andrea died. Ginger had written and just told me how sorry she was. My response was I’m sorry if I had said anything that offended her. I thought I knew what she had been going through losing Troy but in reality I had no idea. It was one thing to live with the threat of death and a totally different thing to face the reality of death.

So when Ginger and I realized we would be in Dallas at the same time we decided it was time for us to meet in person for the first time. As it turned out her best friend Amy lived about 2 miles from my sisters house. We met in the Four Seasons parking lot. I remember talking to Ginger as we drove to meet. As we were talking I realized she was in the car in front of pulling into the parking lot. We really didn’t know what each other looked like other then a few pictures I saw of Ginger online and a short video of Ginger when she spoke to the media about Troy. I remember fallowing her car into the parking lot, her Mom’s white Toyota Four Runner. I remember thinking I was about to met someone I felt I already knew I had just never seen her. We ended up talking for about 20 minutes in the parking lot. We had intended to go get something to eat until we both realized it was Christmas day and nothing was open. You tend to forget about holidays or really you tend to block them out after you loose a spouse because holidays are just a huge reminder of your loss. Anyway, we decided to go to my sister’s house for dinner. Remember it was Christmas dinner and Ginger was suddenly thrown into what would be a very uncomfortable situation. But my family (two brothers and their wives and my sister and her husband and their three kids) were very welcoming and Ginger of course Ginger held her self with great poise. To be truthful I think it was a little uncomfortable for everyone. My sister had set the most beautiful table with China, and silver. Keep in mind I’m the youngest child in my family and the youngest person there were my sisters kids who were in college. I remember after dinner we were sitting in the living room having wine and talking politics (a normal for my family) Ginger leaned over a said, “This is nothing like my life.” Looking back it makes me smile, because I know now that Ginger was still in the throws of potty training the twins and her oldest was only 10. You did not sit down to a table of china nor do you drink wine and talk politics after dinner with 5 kids under 10 years old. Ginger left that night and the following day we met for coffee. I remember waiting for Ginger and having the oil changed in my car. As I sat in the waiting room I began to write to Ginger things about me. My strengths, my weaknesses, my likes and dislikes, who I was, and what I hoped for in life. I’m not sure why I would have told that to someone I had just met but I did. I kept that page of notes; it is in my Bible and every once in a while I pull it out and remember that day in December.

It is hard to believe it has been two years since we met. I’m still adjusting to my new life, but I knew God had brought us together and I know He has plans for our life. I’m very proud to be Ginger’s husband. I’m thankful we met Dec 25^th 2007 and I humbled by her love for me.

Yes we have gone though some adjustments getting to know each other, but they are mostly minor things. And yes it is more difficult to learn about each other when you are newlyweds with 6 kids in the house. But I can tell you this, when I look into Ginger’s eyes, I feel the same love and adoration that I did when I looked into Andrea’ eyes. I never thought that could happen to me again. I felt God had blessed me once and I did not deserve such love again. And truthfully I probably don’t deserve to be loved so deeply, so purely as I am with Ginger, but thankfully God does not feel that way. He has given me life again a life I am very happy to live. And in the end it is that happiness and laughter that we share that reminds me of God’s amazing grace.

Isaiah 55:8-9

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Winter Solstice

2009-12-21T21:49:00.004-05:00

1 John 1:5

This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light;

in him there is no darkness at all.

Today marks the second anniversary of Andrea's funeral. Yes this is a great week in my life. As many of you may know we lived in Alaska for six years. We loved the summers there and we endured the winters. Although I did enjoy the snow, the guaranteed white Christmas and snowboarding with my boys Andrea was not too much of a fan of the Alaska winters. The winter days can be cold and dark and it was the darkness that really bothered Andrea.

As a pilot I remember we would fly in the winter and almost without a doubt we would climb though the clouds and eventually breakout and see the sun. It felt so good to fell the sun shinning in your eyes. I would tell Andrea even though it is cloudy and dark down here the sun is still shinning you just have to get through the clouds. Sometimes when life is difficult we need to remember that the sun is still shines.

Andrea loved getting her daily dose of Vitamin D. During Andrea’s treatment in Alaska if there was a sunny winter day I take Andrea for a drive and park the car facing south and let her feel the sun through the windshield. In North Carolina she would go and sit in the “Brick Oven” which was the brick wall of our house that faced south. She would take a blanket outside and sit against the brick wall and absorb the heat of the sun. We had been known to sit out there and fall asleep. I sure the neighbors thought what are the Ravellas doing now! But the rare sunny day in Alaska was little help to Andrea who did not have an F-15E she could jump in and get her daily fix of sunshine. So to help her I bought her a special light to put in the house to trick her body think it was daytime. In the winter she would set it up in the kitchen and when you walked it was so bright that if you ever turned it off even with the regular lights on it seemed dark. Forget the fact that the label said only use it for 15 minutes at a time, Andrea would live it on for hours.

Dec 21^st is the winter solstice a day Andrea always looked forward to when we lived in Alaska because it signified the end of winter. Well actually "winter" carried on until around April but Dec 21st was the shortest day of the year. Starting on Dec 22 the days started getting longer and that always made Andrea happy because she knew it signified the beginning of the end of the dark days.

There are many symbolisms to me in Andrea's funeral being on 21 Dec. Not just because it is the shortest day of the year and as the shortest day of the year my suffering was limited. But because it was the day when the earth begins its shift back towards the sun. In a way I feel a comfort that Andrea was laid to rest on the shortest day as if God gave me that little gift to say, “I was not going to change the day I took her but I will limit the time you will suffer, for tomorrow the light returns.” The earth turning back towards the sun, as Andrea went to be with the Son. Darkness starting giving way to light. Life continued and a faithful God was with me, as sure as the sun will rise each day, He was still with me.

I will celebrate another anniversary this month, Dec 25th the day Ginger and I met but I will save that for another blog.

I Remember...

2009-12-17T18:34:00.001-05:00

Two years, 730 days, 17, 520 hours, 1,051,200 seconds, a lifetime. Today marks the two year anniversary of Andrea’s passing. There are some events in your life that you will forever remember; of course Dec 17^th is that day for me. I can close my eyes right now and relive that day to the smallest of details. I remember driving to the hospital that day, praying “God, I don’t want to ever have to make the decision to remove Andrea from the vent.” I did not want to have to live with the thought that I gave up on her. I remember walking in that morning and finding the doctors trying to wake Andrea up, pushing on her chest trying to get her to respond, as they tried to determine why she had taken such a turn for the worse. I remember walking up to her bed, and calling her name, she opened her eyes just for a moment, and I knew she heard me. I remember telling the doctor I needed our Oncologist to help me understand what to do. I remember calling our Oncologist in North Carolina. I remember him telling me what I had to do. I remember calling family and friends. I remember calling Nic telling him to get Anthony out of school and get up to the hospital, because “It looks like today is the day.” I remember the doctor explaining what was going to happen. I remember Nic coming out of Andrea’s room with such a scared look on his face because Andrea was spitting up blood. I remember rushing in and wiping her mouth. I remember knowing it was time.

I remember the nurse unhooking Andrea’s IVs. I remember when the vent was removed and Andrea had to breathe on her own. I remember they turned off all the monitors in the room. I remember the room lost its sense of hope. I remember it was 12:25. I remember the nurse walking in with the Morphine. I remember it being a glass IV jar. I remember how free Andrea looked when all the wires were removed. I remember the boys and me standing by her bed. I remember praying in Andrea’s ear. I remember singing to her. I remember looking up as the doctors walked in and told me she had passed. I remember it was 1:07. I remember her body no longer looked like her. I remember the coolness of her lips when I kissed her. I remember not knowing what to do. I remember feeling lost and alone. I remember feeling inadequate as a man, and a father. I remember packing her clothes away. I remember the depth of pain and grief as I packed away the nightgown she wore on our honeymoon. I remember that was the saddest I have ever been. I remember how easy it was to slip into the pit of grief. I remember feeling as if I had lost my identity our hopes and our dreams. I remember how I regretted leaving the hospital her last night. I hoped she did not wake up and need me.

That is what I remember about Dec 17^th 2007. But it is not all I remember about Andrea.

I remember how wise she was. I remember her praying in the night when she was hurting. I remember waking up in the night seeing the closet light on and knowing she was in there praying. I remember her always praying for others before she prayed for herself. I remember her laying on my back trying to stop me from crying when the doctor told us her cancer was incurable. I remember her hand rubbing my arm and her soft voice in my ear saying, “It’s going to be okay" over and over. I remember her falling on the floor in tears thanking God when she was told she did not have a brain tumor. I remember thinking she has not given up, she wants to live. I remember hearing Andrea vomiting in our bathroom. I remember thinking I needed to go hold her. I remember walking in and seeing her sitting on the floor after she threw up and raise her hand and praise God for all He had done for her. I remember thinking I had never seen such faith as that. I remember how we laughed when she went to look at wigs and the salesman thought it was for me. I remember how she hated that wig. I remember all her scarves and how she always matched it with her outfit. I remember how she was always so beautiful to me. I remember how naive we were the first time in the chemo room. I remember seeing the red chemo drug flowing down the IV tube the first time. I remember how final it seemed, that we could not turn back now. I remember wanting to rip the IV out and run. I remember staying because we had to. I remember the “Chemo Girls” and all they did to lift Andrea’s spirits. I remember watching them with Andrea and thinking how much they loved each other. I remember how those women taught me to love someone. I remember a friend gave us a digital picture frame in the ICU that was loaded with pictures from our computer. I remember lying on Andrea’s bed in the ICU and talking to her about each picture remembering our life together. I remember laughing as we relived the moments, I remember crying as we relived the moments. I remember her strength as she laid in the ICU for 23 days. I remember her squeezing my hand when I asked her if she still wanted to fight. I remember the first time I visited her grave. I remember wanting to dig and get her out. I remember falling on my knees and sobbing. I remember seeing her tombstone for the first time. I remember running my finger across her name carved in marble. I remember missing her.

I remember her smile that took away every worry I had. I remember her touch that calmed me when I was unsure, scared or afraid. I remember her faith that was a beacon to me as a young man. I remember her last words to me as I took her into the ICU, “Jim you have to be strong now.” I remember her when Nic was born, and when we adopted Anthony. I remember seeing her for the very first time and knowing I loved her with all my heart. I remember her beautiful blue eyes. I remember how she never looked small to me. I remember folding her clothes and thinking how little her clothes looked. I remember her walking in the house after working in the garden, her dirty hands, how she wiped the sweat off her brow. I remember she was always happy working in her garden. I remember her telling me she would go through all the chemo, all the horrible treatments, even die if it leads one person to Christ. I remember she told me that after 2 years of treatment. I remember her wish that her boys would have a relationship with Christ. I remember so many friends helping us, praying for us. I remember the hope I still have in Christ. I remember knowing He did not leave me.

I remember so many things about Andrea but in the end I remember her telling me not to worry, I remember her faith, her unwavering trust in God, and I remember that she is with the Lord today.

I remember to Andrea my two years, 730 days, 17, 520 hours, 1,051,200 seconds is just a blink of an eye.

I remember I will see her in a little bit.

Come With Love

2009-11-29T21:51:00.000-05:00

I was sitting in the pew at church that morning with chills running down my arms and tears streaming down my face as I listened to our friends, Dan and Christina, sing one of the most beautiful songs I had ever heard. It was a Sunday in October 2006. I was growing weary of the single-parenting gig and tired of going to church alone, of being alone. Troy had been deployed for almost 2 months. It seemed like a lifetime. Now that seems absurd. The lifetime apart hadn’t even begun. I missed him especially that morning however. Dan had been Troy’s good friend for quite some time and we didn’t even know he could sing. The song was titled “Come With Love” by Travis Cottrell from the Christmas soundtrack, King of Glory King of Love. It touched me so. The words were tender, as if spoken by the Lord..”With love you call me in the beauty of your holiness, With love you call me to Your side, You draw my heart and You shower me with tenderness, Your loving arms are open wide … “ Mmm. The words were full of peace spoken to my soul.

It only seemed fitting that since Troy never heard it in this life, he should have the chance to hear it in the next. So, after Troy passed away, I asked Dan and Christina and the entire church worship team sang it at his memorial service. The rest of the lyrics suddenly spoke a different kind of peace to my soul. “When the night is falling and the day is done I can hear You calling, come. When the night surrounds me and my dreams come undone. When the night would hide my way, I will listen until I hear You say, How I love you, child, how I love you. When this life is over and the race is run I will hear you calling, come. I will come while You sing over me”

There is speculation about what happens when we die and go be with the Lord, or as my friend Sherry put it “our homegoing” (I like that). I know it happens in the blink of an eye. (Scripture) I do picture Jesus singing over Troy in those last seconds before he crashed or in Andrea’s last few breaths. Rejoicing as He brings us into His presence forever. Knowing our pain, struggles and strife are over must make the divine sounds just that much sweeter.

I pulled out the book, “90 Minutes in Heaven”. I found the first 3 chapters intriguing and comforting to hear how much love and peace the pastor felt as he entered Heaven. All the gorgeous sounds he heard, the singing of the saints, beautiful musical instruments, the whoosh of angels’ wings. There is nothing that makes me doubt any of that is untrue. If I can be so moved sitting in that pew here in this desperately ugly place we call our temporary home then I simply cannot fathom the majesty of what we will hear when we “settle down for good” in our eternal Home.

This song also tugs at my heart when I question God’s love for me. Even when He allows the bulldozer to roll into our lives and crush our carefully constructed plans, He does not do it without love or without a purpose. This is a concept I continually work to understand. Because it seems so contradictory to what our feeble attempts at common sense can conjure up. The eternal question, “If He truly loves us, how can He let the unthinkable happen?” Don’t look to me for the answer. Look to the Scripture and what it says about the character of God. (Scripture) Christ loved us enough to trade His life for ours.

Christmas reminds of us of that. He left the peace, purity and perfect splendor of Heaven to enter our mucky world. Did God not love His own Son, when He asked Him to do so? I know He loves His Son.

John 3:16

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

Did God not love Jesus when He let Him suffer and die on the Cross?

1Job 4:9

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.

His heart broke but He had a plan and that plan was for us. To come with love, to die with love, to invite us to fellowship with Him in love and finally to call us Home with love. He never said there would not be pain in all of those things. Praise God the pain ends there though. For those without Him, the pain is eternal.

Friday, Nov. 27th, marked Troy’s 3rd anniversary living with the Lord. We continued our tradition of writing him notes, attaching them to balloons and letting them go. Oh and we eat Troy’s favorite thing in the world, brownies. I didn’t read the boys’ notes as I wanted them to feel like it was a private conversation they were having with their dad. But I knew Bella wouldn’t mind if I read hers. I am glad I did. It gave me a little window into her world. She is just learning how to write sentences and her unique way of sounding words out l is still so funny. But it was precious. She said something like this, “Hi Daddy. I am 6. We live in Florida. We are sending you notes today. Please tell God I am so happy. I miss you. I love you. (lots of hearts). But we are coming there soon!”

I worry about Bella. She is strong and tough yet delicate and fragile. It is a difficult combination to know how to parent a child with so much going on inside of her. I often wonder what Troy, with his gently firm hand and loving wisdom, would have me do with her sometimes. But that is where I must trust that God has equipped me and Jim or will equip us with the right tools needed to do the job well.

We are headed home from Thanksgiving in Texas with my family. I am thankful for the many loving emails and texts and calls I received from good friends on Friday. But one extra special thing that happened was a student of Troy’s from the B course at Luke mailed me a gift. That gift was a guest book signed by some of the folks that have been through Troy’s Place at Balad Air Base in Iraq. While Brandon was deployed there last year he left it out for others to write down what their time at Troy’s Place meant to them. There were a couple of guys that wrote messages whose names I recognized. But most were strangers to me. Many referred to it as a refuge to them in the desert. I can see it is a place where the airmen can go to have coffee, read Christian books, have a snack or light meal, listen to Christian music and just take a break from the war for a bit. But it was heartwarming to hear that it provided comfort and a home away from home for some of them. I was taken aback when many of them thanked me for my involvement in it. I wanted to write my own note back to them saying I had nothing to do with it. The idea of Troy’s Place was born out of the hearts and minds of good people there in Balad who wanted to honor Troy’s memory and his own spirit of volunteerism there at the hospital. I am humbled and thankful to all those who have collaborated and volunteered to make it that refuge. I am thankful I was married to a man whose sweet spirit is still reverberating in the hallways of buildings halfway across the world. There was something extra special to be thankful for this year.

I began the second half of this blog a couple of weeks ago in the car. We were headed to Disney. I wasn’t sure whether to separate it from this one I am now writing. I decided not to because I think the message is the same though the subjects are different. Life is hard. Parenting well is difficult. The future is uncertain. The road ahead is unclear. The past is unexplainable. But the Lord comes to our aid with love. He comes to help us, parent with us, rescue us, walk with us along the dark paths and answer our prayers. So in the spirit of backtracking I will close with the blog I wrote weeks ago:

I seem to only find time to write blogs while we are on roadtrips. We are headed to Disney World. The kids and I have never been. I believe Jim has been once or twice. He has an unusual aversion to all things Disney. He doesn’t like the monopoly of tourism or commercialism or something. He refers to it as the “mouse trap” and jokingly told the kids he is just going to hand the mouse his wallet when we get there. I am not sure where his opinions have come from but I intend to ask his aunt and cousin tonight as we are going to have dinner with them. PS they LIVE in Orlando so maybe they don’t mind Disney. We’ll see.

I hurt my ankle about two months ago and was put in a walking boot this week. So walking the 45 acres of the Disney Empire should be interesting. I will have to post a pic of me in the motorized wheelchair on the last day. Ha. The kids are looking forward to going and the excitement of the family adventure. Vacation fun and food are to be had. We have been eating Long John Silver’s fried fish and Little Debbie’s chocolate cakes along the way. We are going to have lunch with the princesses and ride rollercoasters ‘til our heads spin. The happiest place on earth, supposedly. I guess that depends on who you ask. 

As I woke up this morning I gave thanks to the Lord for all He has done over the last three years to bring us to this place: our first real family vacation. Normalcy. Boston was smiling and laughing as he opened his birthday presents this morning at the breakfast table before we left. He turns 12 years old tomorrow. Bella now the age Greyson was when Troy died. She’s reading chapter books. Greyson now is the age Boston was when Troy died. He is artsy and intelligent and wanted to talk about the ingredients I was putting in the lemon blueberry muffins this morning. The twins got themselves dressed. They were a little younger than Troy’s sister’s twins are now.

Rhonda, Troy’s sister, brought her boys, Colten Lee and Landon Troy (7 months old) to our house for a visit the week before last. They are precious. Rhonda has that familiar look of exhaustion I remember all too well. But she is a loving mother and so thankful for them after so many years of infertility. As I helped her with them I found myself feeling sad. I couldn’t put my finger on why. I just adore them. I am so happy for her and her husband. Then one night as I was rocking Colten to sleep in the dimly lit room with soft classical music softly playing in the background I began to cry. With tears streaming down my face I figured out what was wrong. I never really had many of those moments with my twins. Those moments of sheer bliss. Of the tenderness, peacefulness and loveliness that is the essence of holding your own little baby. That slipped out of my hands with Aspen and Annalise. Some of it was due to the fact that they were the last of five kids, not the only ones I had. Some of it was that Troy and I were so busy and exhausted with kids, life and his pending deployment that we were just trying to keep everyone clean and fed. Some of it was the fact that once he was in Iraq I just had to get by the best I could until he returned home. But most of it was when they were just tiny babies I became a casualty from the avalanche of grief. Buried alive. There was no rocking a sweet baby to the symphony sounds. The sound of my own heart breaking pretty much drowned everything else out for quite some time.

I wanted to love them wholly but my heart wasn’t whole without Troy. Everytime I looked at them I saw constant reminders of his absence and a mountain too steep to climb. As any mom of multiples can tell you, the physical demands of caring for two babies is not twice as much as caring for one, but often feels like ten times as much. You get one settled, fed, bathed, changed,etc.. and then suddenly there you find yourself doing it all over again! With caring for three other small children the twins were already stretching us. But, at least there was an us. Now there was a me. Not just me, of course. Because God always always provided help. But now there was just me to watch them grow and change and become little people just like our other three had.

I watched Rhonda and Shane sweetly savor every slightly new development. I have even enjoyed watching their boys’ development. The tears streamed down my face. As I gently rocked Colten in the darkness I tried to pretend he was Aspen or Annalise. What did they feel like, smell like, etc? It was all such a blur. I was planning funerals, crying myself to unsleep, making arrangements for our future and our finances. How could I mother them like I had their big brothers and sister? I couldn’t. I didn’t have the time, energy or motivation. And that brings me to talking about something in this blog that few people know. I have thought about this a lot because I know many people will not understand what I am about to write. I know many people will judge me for my thoughts penned in ink. I know our blog reaches around the world and back. And that point is exactly why I am going to speak of it now. I know the Lord called Jim and I to ministry because of our grief, not in spite of it. In our loss, amid our pain, in our tragedies and through our struggles I know He has asked us to be transparent, open and honest. I know that with confidence. As the Lord instructs us, we should obey:

II Chronicles 1:3-4:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.

With what I am about to confess, I hope to help someone who is wrestling today with the task God has put before them. I hope to encourage someone who is questioning how the impossible can be done or why the impossible has even happened. I hope to come alongside someone who is afraid to voice their deepest darkest thoughts for the fear of what people might think. What God might think. I can tell you it was easy for me to be more honest with God when it occurred to me, once again, He knows every thought that flies through my head.

A few months after Troy died, when the darkness of depression began to enfold me, I thought, “Lord, could it be that Aspen and Annalise’s best chance at a wonderful life could possibly be without me in it?” That might sound like crazy talk. Before Troy died and I was forever changed, I can promise you I would have been aghast if I would have heard that statement come out one of my super-mommy -friend’s mouths. Possibly only the sane know how crazy they really are. And I felt crazy at that time. I knew how high my standards always had been. I knew how to be a great mother. I had learned how to meticulously love and care for a little one. But I didn’t know how to do it without Troy. Sometimes I speculated that I was only a good mom because he was such a great dad. When he was no longer there rubbing off on me what would I be like? I knew I wanted the best for them. And frankly the best didn’t look like me. As I have mentioned before I never slept or ate. I looked and felt like a deflated balloon. At my weakest moments an idea would drift into my sleepless dreams: Would letting someone else adopt the twins be the best option? Maybe that was the most selfish thought in the world. But maybe, just possibly, it was the most unselfish. I was always an all or nothing kind of girl. If I couldn’t do something really well then I just wasn’t sure it was something I should be doing. And though I knew I could do this mothering thing well… Well, that was before. Before Troy died. Before terrorists took my lifelong love. Before I was a single mother. Before I was being sent books about daughters without dads. Before I questioned who God was. Before.

The thoughts came and went. I prayed fervently God would give me the strength to do what seemed implausible and insurmountable in my mind: raise three little kids and two babies with only half of me left. I didn’t want to give them up or split up our family. But I wanted them to have all that we had given the other three. And without Troy I just didn’t see how the math would add up. Me minus Troy had to put us in the negative. Yet, Scripture says that me plus God equals more than I could imagine. Each and every day I would read the inscription on my favorite bracelet:

Philippians 4:13

“I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength.”

And I held tightly to this onto this one:

Mark 10:26

“Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

Though I felt like a failure for even having these thoughts, I knew the Lord was for me. I knew that if He and I could do this thing; raise these babies without Troy then He and I could do anything.

My heart ached that they never said the words “Daddy”. Was I going to show them pictures of him and teach them how to say Daddy that way? That seemed ridiculous. That’s how they were learning to say puppy, kitty and banana. They should be saying Daddy to someone. Because they could touch and feel him in real life and not in the pages of a book. That just seemed wrong to me.

Last week, Jim and I telephoned Brad, our friend who just became a single daddy himself to his baby daughter, Chloe. We wanted to check on him. See how he was doing now that it has been almost 2 months since Sara passed away. He continues to trust the Lord though he has no more answers of why she was taken and why he was left alone to raise his sweet baby girl. But he told us of his realization that his baby’s mommy is not there to share this new journey with. We talked about his friend, another pilot, who just lost his wife and is now left alone with his two boys, a 2 year old and a newborn. There seems to be so much tragedy that has happened in just our F-16 community alone.

They must now learn how to be both a mommy and a daddy. I guess thinking of them is what prompted me to share these thoughts. I don’t know the extent of their pain or the nature of their fears. But the longer Jim and I walk this road and talk to other people we find that though circumstances vary, there are many similar struggles we all have. The biggest one is how do I do this thing, this most impossible task, God has asked me to all alone? The beautiful thing we have found is He doesn’t ask you to ever do anything without Him.

I Titus 5:5

“The widow who is really in need and left all alone puts her hope in God and continues night and day to pray and to ask God for help.”

Hebrews 4:16

“Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. “

And sometimes He comes in the form of friends, family, even strangers. I can give you many examples of people who stepped up and were used by God to bring me to this place I am at. This comfy passenger seat on a normal family roadtrip to Disney. An outsider could be looking in our car right now and never know the pain and suffering yet the growth and healing that has brought us to this bittersweet place. But we know. I know that I know that I know. That our God is bigger than the mountain. I heard the story of many who stood at the opening of a long path and were asked to carry a heavy wooden cross for many miles. All carried it but one. He refused saying there was no way. It was impossible to carry something that heavy for that long. The others stumbled and struggled but they bore the weight of the log and carried it. The one man who refused to carry it walked easily. Then suddenly the path ended and there in front of them was a canyon. They stood there discouraged and afraid until the first one walked up to the steep edge and laid his log across it. He had a bridge to the other side. They all followed and did the same, laying their log across the open divide. Except the one man. He was unwilling to carry his cross. It seemed too difficult in the beginning. But now it would have helped him get to the other side.

Behind me are two sleeping three and a half year old little girls dreaming of Disney World tomorrow. They colored some pictures on the way and are giving them to Jim’s cousin tonight at dinner.

Taking care of their needs when my own were so numerous often felt a lot like that heavy cross. I did not want to carry the load I had not signed up for. It seemed way too heavy. Yet each and everyday since Troy died the Lord has either provided help or given me the abilities I needed. And then the Lord answered my specific request for my children to have another amazing father. I remember praying those exact words. And then there was Jim…. He loves all the kids so much. And he and Andrea had always wanted to have a daughter. Now God gave him three! God always does more than we can imagine. What we see as void, He must see as opportunity.

As I rocked one of my twin nephews and the tears streamed down my face, I grieved for the time with Aspen and Annalise that I lost for that year and that Troy lost forever. But suddenly I realized that I wouldn’t be grieving over it now if I didn’t love those girls totally. I heard that grief is the cost of loving someone. There are no truer words than those.

We’ll Still Celebrate

2009-10-27T22:12:00.003-04:00

It wasn’t exactly déjà vu. It was more like experiencing the same feelings through familiar eyes but finding it hard to believe it was really happening to me. Kind of like last week when I dreamt I was Katie Holmes and married to Tom Cruise but I really knew it wasn’t me it was her. I was just there as a very attuned observer. Maybe I shouldn’t read People magazine right before bed anymore.

Yesterday I was standing on a stage at Maxwell AFB in Montgomery, AL speaking to an audience of family, friends and Air Force Officer Trainees. Fourteen years ago I was there as the wife of a young freshly commissioned second lieutenant named Troy Gilbert on his graduation day. Yesterday I was there to dedicate the academic building, Gilbert Hall, in his memory. We walked into the beautiful new auditorium and there he was, big as life, on the jumbo screen. With those amazing green-hazel eyes looking over the crowd. A photograph taken of him in the Czech Republic next to his jet. His name in big letters stretched across the building front.

I remember just being so proud of him that cold January morning of his graduation. He was a distinguished graduate. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant but he did look awfully distinguished in that uniform so I would concur. My absolute favorite photo taken of us was snapped that morning of graduation. It has always seemed somewhat timeless to me.

Now, years later, he and I living worlds apart. He in Heaven. Me on Earth. He in a place where time stands still.

II Peter 3:8

“But don’t forget this one thing, my dear friends; With the Lord a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day.”

As I walked up to the front of the grand building amid visitors, guests, media, etc… a young woman up to me. She handed me a lovely card and bracelet. She told me her name, JoRie, and that her husband was at Maxwell right now in school. I could tell she thought I recognized her and then she could tell by the blank look on my face that I did not. She sweetly told me she was the little sister of DeLynn Jeffries. The fog started clearing and I realized who she was. Her big sister, DeLynn, was one of my 1st grade friends in Portales, NM. During that school year, DeLynn was hit and killed by a car as she ran out in the street chasing a ball. I clearly remember my mom unloading the dishwasher and hearing her talking on the phone to another mother in our class. When she hung up she sadly told me that my little friend had been killed. I was Bella’s age. Wow. And then 33 years later here is her little sister standing before me so thankful to share a part in my day. Her card read that my family and I had been in their prayers continually. She had married a fighter pilot as well and made the connection of who I was when I lost Troy. She heard about the building dedication and decided to come. What a blessing to me. I explained to her I have told my children the story of her sister to remind them to never run into the street chasing anything. I am sure I am not alone in that. JoRie and DeLynn’s mom has always kept up with me. I would occasionally bump into her while I was still living at home in Clovis, NM and she would hug me tight. I knew she must always be imagining what her own daughter would be like as she did so.

Imagining what they would be like. What those that have gone before us must be thinking or feeling or seeing. I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether Troy was looking at this huge building with his name and photographs and story covering its’ walls and wondering what all the fuss was about. He was a humble guy. Not self-seeking or self-serving. I guess that’s probably the whole reason he is the one whose name is up there in big giant letters. If he had been self-serving that day in late November in the battlefields of Iraq, he would have flown high above the fray and out of harm’s way. He knew it was dangerous to be doing what he was doing but he did it in anyway. He was about others. Always. Sometimes that used to get on my nerves. He would put someone else’s schedule at work before his own. He would come early and stay late at church to help with set up because someone didn’t show up. I should have appreciated that trait in him more.

I am thankful he was recognized, yet again, for his devotion and sacrifice. When these moments of dedication for him occur, I always wish he was there to see all these fabulous honors he has been bestowed. Yet, truthfully, I doubt he cares much now.

II Corinthians 5:8

“We are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these bodies, for then we will be at Home with the Lord.”

We talk a lot about what Daddy in Heaven sees. I have to say I do tell the kids he is watching and he is proud. I am not sure that is biblical but it is comforting. There are a couple of scriptures that seem to touch on the topic.

Isaiah 65:17

“Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered nor will they come to mind.”

This one makes me think no, those that have passed away before us will not. Yet this one makes me wonder if they do:

Hebrew 12:1

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

I’ve read commentaries on this scripture that point to the great heroes of our faith being witnesses as if they are on a stand testifying about their experiences of living and dying in faith. Their lives say to us, Faith works. God keeps His promises. Heaven is worth the wait. The are examples, not onlookers. They witness to us the value of placing all our hopes in God’s promises. (taken from The One Year Book of Hope by Nancy Guthrie – an awesome devotional!)

But I have also read that these witnesses are those Believers, specifically I would assume the ones we know and love, that are in the grandstands of heaven peering through the clouds and cheering us on as we run the race of life on earth. I know they do see the bigger picture so I would imagine it has to be possible for them to look down on us through Jesus’ eyes and with full knowledge of the entire grand story of our lives and not be sad.

Revelation 21:3

“And I heard a loud voice (God’s) from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with hem and be their God. HE will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Call me crazy but I think God still sends us signs, messages, encouragement in the form of real everyday events. Yes, I think we can falsely attach the Lord’s name to things that He has nothing to do with but I do know He cares about us deeply and is going to reveal that to us in the times we need it most.

Yesterday, after the ceremony and the reception I was trailing behind everyone and ended up alone in the foyer of the building. Suddenly it came to my awareness that a familiar song was playing throughout the hallways. I waited to see if it really was the song I thought it might be. Indeed it was. Chris Daughtry’s hit song, “Home”.

“I'm going home to the place where I belong
where your love has always been enough for me
I don't regret this life I chose for me
But these places and these faces are getting old
So I'm going home
I'm going home to the place where I belong
Where your love has always been enough for me”

I know he wrote this song for his wife about what really mattered to him as he was hitting the road to perform. But I have always thought it sounded a little bit more like what we say to Jesus right before we leave this earth. Jim and I always find it a little perculiar that both Andrea and Troy were both big Chris Daughtry fans. We were all watching American Idol that year. 2006. Troy died that year. It sounds dumb but I always wanted to Troy to know he made an accurate prediction – Chris kinda made it bigtime. And when his song, “Home” came out… well, I just thought those words could have come out of Troy’s mouth. And there they were, playing over the loudspeaker just for me and Troy’s photo wall. Except I had to go get Jim just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy and he heard it too! He smiled and couldn’t believe it after the many conversations we have had about Troy and Andrea and Chris and that silly song that seems to say more than it really does.

Troy just had to reassure me, he’s right where he belongs. He’s home.

We went to eat after the ceremony. A big group of 20 of us. The girls all dressed up. Greyson wore Troy’s tie again. The waiter asked Jim if there was a special occasion we were celebrating. Jim explained that we had been to a building dedication in honor of the children’s father who was killed in combat in Iraq. The waiter graciously offered us all the free appetizers we would like and said, “We’ll still celebrate.” I thought that was a fitting tribute to the day. Though we lost so much., we’ll still celebrate. His legacy. His Homecoming. And as Greyson prayed last night; “Thank you that we know that Miss Andrea and Dad are in heaven.” Amen Greyson.

Link to photos taken from the dedication: (if clicking on it doesn't work, then copy and paste it)

http://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/apps/pbcs.dll/gallery?Avis=DS&Dato=20091026&Kategori=COMMUNITIES10306&Lopenr=910260804&Ref=PH

My speech for those interested:

As I was preparing for the words I would give you today I thumbed through Troy’s photographs from OTS, Class 95-02 and I reflected upon the journey the Air Force has taken us on since that cold January graduation morning almost 14 years ago.

Troy grew up in a proud and loving Air Force family. His grandfather served in _the army WWII and his father retired as an AF Senior Msgt in 1993. His mom, Kaye, for years worked on base as a secretary. Troy, his sister Rhonda and his mom, Kaye, were a picture of that devoted military family. Just like many that see around you today.

I met Troy in college in Texas and he seemed so worldly and mature because of his military travels and experiences versus my small town upbringing. Military life was a completely foreign concept to me. After graduating from college, marrying and both us beginning careers in the civilian world, he found himself longing to have that military life back. He said he missed it. I can concur. When I lost Troy in 2006, after 10 years of being a military wife, I found one of the many extraneous things I grieved for was knowing the Air Force lifestyle I had grown to love – that unfamiliar thing that had become so familiar to me would be changed or possibly lost forever. That thought made me sad.

My love for the Air Force grew from Troy’s passion for it. See, once he set his mind on serving he had some obstacles to overcome. He walked into a recruiting office in West Texas ready to apply for OTS and he was told his best route would be basic training and to enlist. Troy knew he was dealing with someone who had never handled an OTS package before and that the bulk of the work would now be on his shoulders if this was really something he wanted to achieve. So, as usual when Troy was faced with an obstacle he began looking for ways to overcome it. He made the phone calls, did the research and completed all the paperwork involved in the application process all by him. It took dedication for a civilian to maneuver their way in and around the military system. After months and months he finally got accepted. And around that same time he got a great job offer in Canada working in the natural gas industry. But he felt called to military service and turned down what seemed like a dream opportunity with good pay and travel benefits.

What inspired Troy, however, was not money or glamour or glory. He was inspired by people, by service and by the mission. His parents and I recalled how they dropped him off here at OTS in the fall of 1994. And when we all drove out three months later to meet him for graduation he seemed to have grown. Not physically mind you as he was at the lowest weight he would ever be. But mentally and emotionally, he was stronger. OTS introduced Troy to a taste of what the AF would ask of him. And he responded with a dedication to country that I had not seen in him prior to that. As his family knew well before I did, Troy was always the very focused, driven and determined one. Okay, maybe just a teensy bit stubborn. But all of those traits became fine-tuned here at OTS. Yes he wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to fly. But above that, he wanted to be an AF officer. At that point in AF history, there was a low demand for fighter pilots. So he knew going in that though flying was his dream, he would do whatever the AF asked of him. That is exactly what he did. He left here and became a personnelist and then a protocol officer. And then with much determination and most of our second lieutenant salary he got his private pilot’s license at the Aero Club in Lakenheath England. After almost four years of dutifully serving in a non-flying position his lifelong dream of becoming a fighter pilot in the AF became a reality. But he knew he was a better pilot because he knew it took much more than just pilots to run the AF.

Troy never looked at his career in the military as a job. He looked at it as a way of life and what he was meant to do. Troy’s core was solid. His heart and motives were always pure. His priorities were always in the right place. He put God and family first. But what OTS and the Air Force did was help refine and give direction to the mission and path that was meant for him.

I will never understand why such a godly man, loving father and husband and great AF officer was taken Home so soon. But I know he left an amazing legacy behind. For his children. For the men and women of the Air Force. Big footsteps to follow. But would any of us really want to follow anything less?

I am a blessed woman today. God provided a new and different but wonderful life for me and for the kids with another amazing godly husband and father. I remarried a year and a half ago. His name is Jim Ravella. And wouldn’t you just know he is another Texas boy. Another son of Air Force family. Another graduate of OTS. Another AF officer. Another fighter pilot. This Air Force thing gets in your blood, I guess.
We never know what direction our lives will take or what the future holds. But today, in this place, we can see that what we do with the time we have on this earth matters. Troy’s heart for service began here at this training facility at Maxwell AFB in Montgomery AL. Obviously it was much less grand at the time. But never the less it began here and continued on until the afternoon of November 27th, 2006 near Baghdad Iraq when again his tireless dedication for the people of the AF motivated him to perform courageous feats to save their lives. And that he did.

Thank you for all who worked so tirelessly to bring about this very special day for me and for the rest of Troy’s family. We wholeheartedly agree that Gilbert Hall was the very best name you could have chosen for this magnificent AF facility.

“See you in the Morning”

2009-09-29T23:56:00.005-04:00

Now, pick yourself up off the floor. I know I haven’t written a blog in a loooong time. Moving to Florida this summer kind of took a chunk out of my “me” time. It isn’t that I haven’t had many thoughts penned in my head or I haven’t wanted to pour my heart out in ink. I just simply haven’t had many spare quiet moments. There comes a point though that I know I MUST write or I will not be serving God in the way I promised Him I would. He knows my hectic schedule. He knows my many demands. He knows how many boxes I just unpacked. He knows I have 5 kids and a husband to care for. But His grace is also sufficient to have allowed me some time right now in the car to type while Jim drives. His sovereignty brought us to another crossroad of life today; the funeral of a dear friend taken Home too soon. The first funeral I have attended since my own sweet husband’s. The first funeral Jim has attended since his own dear wife’s.

Not too long ago I mentioned an amazing young woman named Sara Sullivan. She was in her twenties. She was a cancer patient. She was a fellow F-16 pilot’s wife. She was an expectant mommy. She was a faithful servant of Christ. She was my new friend. Only a few short months later, she is gone. Not from cancer. Not from childbirth. But from a massive stroke just two days after bringing her premature, yet perfectly healthy baby, Chloe, home from the hospital. She didn’t even know she was fighting for her life. She was just figuring out how to feed her little baby. Her husband, Brad, did not know that morning when he woke up next to his beautiful wife that it would be their last morning to do so. And that evening that he would climb into an ambulance next to that same beautiful wife begging God for her life.

Brad and Sara’s story is told best by them. Their blog site is bandssullivan.blogspot.com. If you haven’t been on their blog yet I highly recommend it. Reading the Sullivan’s blog is akin to taking a vitamin boost for your faith. Suffice to say their story, in some ways, combines my and Jim’s stories. It has many common themes. Cancer. Sudden and unexpected death. A married couple trusting the Lord in sickness. Parents of a sweet baby girl. A fighter pilot and the wife who loved him serving their God and country. Sound familiar? It did to us. Life came full circle today. We just weren’t sitting in the first pew. We watched someone else’s life in a slideshow. Hope and sorrow on the face of a hurting Believer who just gave their spouse back to their Creator. A traveler about to go on a weary journey. We were there….just farther down the road and looking back. Brad is a new widower and a new daddy but he certainly is not a new Christian. He may not know much about changing diapers but he knows the God he serves. He will be okay. He will see light again. Morning will come. But he will walk in the dark for a while. I cried knowing that road will not be easy. It will be excruciating. I held sweet Chloe and praised God for the chance to witness a bonafide miracle. The doctors told Sara and Brad to abort the baby because Sara had to go through surgery and round after round of chemo. They gave their baby to the Lord, placing all their trust in Him. She is perfect. Brad took care of her all by himself last night. He said it was a sweet time. Just he and his baby girl. Jesus must have wept as He watched. Yet He knew this world would have burdens. Christ walked this world for 33 years. He saw it the struggles on the faces of the people He knew. He felt our sorrows on the cross. He knew Brad would be walking the floor with Chloe at 3 am. He knew I would lay in my closet crying until I couldn’t breathe. He knew Jim would sit in a chemo chair and hold his tiny faithful wife while the pain ached deep in her bones. He knew all these things. He knows all your things. I struggled awhile back with the fact that He knew all this was going to happen yet would do nothing to stop it. I know people sat in that church today and wondered the same thing. I couldn’t have stood up there in front and given them the answer. But I know now, more than ever, that everything doesn’t have to make sense to me because I am not God. I don’t qualify for the job. I don’t see the other side of that tapestry He is constantly weaving. All I know is He keeps His promises to walk with us. I thought the pastor today said so many powerful things. Obviously, many about Sara and what an incredibly glorious way she lived her life all the way until her death. But he also have a beautiful explanation of some verses of Psalm 23. They are familiar verses we read without possibly understanding fully the comparison David was making between us, the sheep and the Lord, our Shepherd. I won’t say it as eloquently as he did but I must give it a shot because it was SO good. A message so full of hope and healing on such a sad day.

Psalm 23

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

David was many things. A giant-slayer. A shepherd. A warrior. A sinner. An adulterer. A fugitive. A Believer. A musician. A poet. A king. A man. David stood on the top of the mountain and walked in the deepest valley. David was us. A little bit of a lot of different things. Some good and some not so good. I love David. David was an emotional guy. David expressed what was on his heart. He shared what was on his mind. He knew, in the end, it really wasn’t all about him. There is a reason the Psalms are so relevant. David was so relevant. Relevant to who we are and what we struggle with. Life and death. Joy and sorrow. Pain and comfort.

The words he wrote in Psalm 23 were of comfort. The picture he painted was of peace. Not comfort and peace when life is easy there on the mountaintop. But comfort and peace in depths of the valley.

The pastor today gave us the historical background of what prompted David to write this particular Psalm. David was a shepherd early in his life. There was a dark and difficult path he had to lead his sheep through to get to safety on the other side; the valley. Death was all around. The mountains on one side were too rugged to cross. The other side was desert. Both equally dangerous with darkness lurking alongside the narrow path. Yet the shepherd would send out someone ahead of them to make sure their was enough food and water and no predators for their passage. He prepared for their arrival. Just like God prepares for our tomorrows. The shepherd’s rod protected the sheep from harm and the staff kept them on the path so they didn’t wander into the wilderness or the desert. He cared for them so they wouldn’t be afraid of what was ahead. Just as Christ cares for us when the shadow of death is all around us. The shepherd put oil on the sheep’s heads to keep certain pests out of their ears. In other words, our Great Shepherd takes care of the things that “bug” us along the way. At His table we are always welcome with a warm welcome and a full cup. He won’t let us go on down the road on empty.

Death of a spouse casts a long shadow over your past, present and future. There is no part of life that that death does not permeate in some way. We live in a fallen world. We live in a world that is not nearly as much about what we see but about what we don’t see. Remember it was hard for the sheep to see in that dark valley. They HAD to trust their shepherd. We HAVE to trust our Shepherd even in the times we cannot see that any of this journey makes any sense or is even worth going on.

Ezekiel 34:11

“For this is what the Sovereign Lord says; I myself will search for My sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.”

When I first married Jim and he would kiss me goodnight, often he would say “See you in the morning.” It was a simple statement to me as he closed his eyes. He probably didn’t even think much about it. But as I laid there I couldn’t help but think how comforting those words were to me. Each night after Troy died when I laid my head on the pillow for another sleepless night I began to dread the next morning. Because the next morning meant more of the same; another day without him. I knew going to bed lonely would only lead to waking up lonely. So when Jim first said that to me, I thought to myself how lovely and sweet those words were because that meant that in the morning he would be there. I had something to look forward to when I woke up. Day was a happy time all of the sudden.

The deep pain and stinging sorrow inside of a broken heart stops making it worth waking up in the morning. But, with the Shepherd’s help, it will be worth it someday. We don’t have to do much at first. Just wake up. Just put your feet on the floor. Like the pastor said today; Just Walk. I remember my dearest encouragers reminding me to keep walking. Morning will come they said. I couldn’t picture it. I couldn’t even imagine the hole in my heart being healed enough to want to live again or be a good mother again. I knew what God promised me in Psalm 23 but I just didn’t know what the other side of the valley looked like or how long He wanted me to walk through it. Those thoughts terrified me. But I had to trust Him. Even sheep are smart enough to know they are too dumb not to follow the Shepherd.

Today Brad begins that same walk Jim and I went on. As we stood with him next to Sara’s casket, he said he felt he belonged with us now. We told him we were sorry he did. But we know he won’t walk it alone. And we know that someday his mourning will to turn to morning. In some way there always will be morning for those that love the Lord. Sometimes that morning is in heaven like it was for Troy, Andrea and Sara. Sometimes that morning will feel like hell on earth, like it was for me, Jim and Brad. But for those that serve a mighty God, morning will come and it won’t even resemble night at all.

As we walked out of the church after Sara's service I couldn't help but notice this big sign in the foyer. Doesn't the fact that the word DOES is underlined say just what we need to be reminded of in times such as these? He does love us. He does stretch His mighty arms down from heaven to hold through the pain. He does bring us sunshine again. I snapped the photo and reached for Jim's hand and we walked out the door knowing the sign spoke the truth; morning comes.

I love that God chose to raise His son early in the morning on that Sunday 2000 years ago. I think it was symbolic that night was over forever. Satan would never have the last word. He may whisper in our ears that there will never be another glimpse of sunshine in our life. That it’s over or at least not worth living for. But Christ’s victory over the grave forever says to us, “Keep walking, I am with you and I will see you in the morning, my child.”

Lamentations 3:22-23

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

Tonight, as I finish writing this blog, Brad and Chloe return home after burying Sara today. My heart is heavy for Brad. It’s unbelievable how significantly enormous the absence of someone can feel. Yet, it is equally unbelievable how weighty the presence of the Lord suddenly becomes when you need it the most. Grief can dull the senses in one way. Yet, in an another, it shines a light on God’s goodness and mercy. I know Brad must feel both as he rocks their precious baby girl to sleep tonight.

Sara gave me a candle right before I moved. I had been saving it for some unknown purpose. I began lighting it last week as I prayed for her healing. I remembered she said it was her favorite scent. My friend, Angela, also received one from Sara and she brought it my attention that the scent of the candle is "Bird of Paradise". How fitting. Paradise. Sara's new home. The same address as Troy and Andrea. How they all must soar now - birds in Paradise. I burn it now most every night, knowing the fragrance is even sweeter now that she is gone.

Isn’t that just the exact same way we want our lives to be remembered and our legacy to be carried on? As a pleasant bouquet that lingers in the thoughts and hearts of those we leave behind? With tears filling my eyes I listened to the pastor speak of Sara in much the same way that Pastor Steve spoke of Troy. I so desire those same words to echo again, someday, when my loved ones are gathered together to celebrate my coming Home.

Until then, I will seek to love, live and forgive. I will keep walking. Peaks. Vallleys. Whatever the Lord asks me to do. And only with His help.

Oh and I will probably find out where Sara bought me that candle and order another. The candle reminds me of her light and her light reminds to continue to trust God, no matter what.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding but in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.

The Rich Young Man

2009-09-08T13:29:00.003-04:00

I went through a lot of struggles as I tried to understand and reconcile Andrea’s cancer and her near constant bad test results. I had prayed for years for Andrea’s healing only to find no relief. I had asked for healing in every way I knew. I had pleaded, begged, and promised all to no avail. I had asked so many times I started to think I was bugging God with the same request over and over. I constantly struggled with asking for the desire of my heart and Allowing God to be sovereign and trusting Him. Was I lacking faith in God by constantly asking for healing? Did He really need to hear me over and over, sometimes 100s of times a day ask for the same thing? Was God hard of hearing or was I not using the right words. Was I being a nuisance to Him? Was I lacking faith by not believing for healing? Should I have taken a stand and just said Andrea is healed and not wavier or was I shutting the door on God’s will, just trying to shout so I did not hear what I did not want to hear? The stakes were so high, life and death for my best friend and the most important person in my life. How does God’s will and my will intermesh? That really was the question. I wish I could tell you the answer. All I know is what I experienced and that is what I’m trying to express in this blog. The answer is mine alone I do not think this is a one size fits all response from God. It was a custom fit for me and it had to do with my life, experiences, my strengths and my weaknesses.

I learned many things during the 4years and 4 months of treatment Andrea endured and truthfully I always felt a little guilty growing and learning and becoming a better person while Andrea suffered and died. But not as guilty as I would feel if I did not learn, change and grow from that experience. It is hard to pick the most important lesson I learned but certainly one of the most important is God’s place in my life which I have written about in previous blogs. This blog a slightly different angle on that subject.

Mark 10: 17-31

The Rich Young Man

As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. "Good teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" "Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: 'Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother." "Teacher," he declared, "all these I have kept since I was a boy."

Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said. "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.

Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, "How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!" The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, "Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."

The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, "Who then can be saved?" Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God."
Peter said to him, "We have left everything to follow you!"

"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first."

Why did Jesus ask the rich young man to not only obey all the commandments but also sell everything he had? Why doesn’t Jesus ask this to everyone? Why such a strict standard for this young man? We are told this is a rich young man, why so descriptive? He is not only rich but he is young. If he were alive today I picture him as a Harvard grad, always at the top of his class, used to accolades and rewards. He would be well known due to his wealth at such a young age. He would be used to having what he wanted when he wanted it. I think the descriptive words we are given help us understand why Jesus asked him to sell it all and give it to the poor. I think like today’s rich, successful young man he would derive a lot of his security from his success. He would be prideful of his accomplishments and probably very self reliant.

As I reflect back on Andrea’s treatment I remember Andrea’s first round of chemo in Alaska. It was hard, very hard in fact and we prayed and sought God but truthfully it did not demand us to totally surrender. In the beginning you find some comfort in your doctor, certainly in the medicine, and at times in the facts of cancer treatment. You see yourself as one of the __% that will be healed and in that mere fact you hold on to a portion of your life. There are portions that exceed your ability to control and I definitely sought God in those moments but there were times when I found comfort in the treatment or in watching Andrea’s strength or at times in the inability to believe that death could actually come to Andrea. She was too young, too faithful, and too “good” of a person to die.

Most of those footholds crumbled beneath me when Andrea’s cancer returned in 2005. When a doctor tells you the cancer is incurable you suddenly realize those things that you were holding onto vanish as the words flow the doctor’s lips. You feel naked, vulnerable, scared and totally alone as the words sink into your mind and you try to process the meaning of his words. Intellectually you understand the facts, but it takes time to fully absorb the impact.

Rather quickly Andrea and I began the process of facing death. Death was no longer some future event, something we would deal with when our hair was grey or our dreams fulfilled, our bodies tired, almost seeking relief from this life. No it came when we had many things to accomplish, kids to raise and the joy of grand kids around the corner. We had trips we still dreamed of taking; our retirement home still was an idea in our minds, all we knew was it had a big porch where we could watch the sunsets. Death had somehow leaped forward and landed right in front of us, we stood face to face with death and somehow we had to reconcile this fact with the faith we had professed.

Soon afterwards I began to hear, to sense or maybe feel God prompting me. His message, “Let go and Trust Me.” Those who knew me knew that I loved Andrea and we had a very special marriage. She was my life, my source of joy and happiness in life. So when I ran to Jesus I was not expecting to hear, “Give up your wife and follow me.” I felt what the rich young man must have felt, “Are you kidding me?” The rich young man had poured his life into his work and his money was his reward and his security now Jesus told him he had to sell it ALL and follow him. It was eerily similar to how I viewed Andrea in my life. I poured all my effort into our marriage and I was reaping the rewards of my work. Andrea and I loved being together, we were best friends but for me she was more than that, she was my security.

For the rich young man this demand seemed a little excessive I’m sure. He had kept the commandments, surly he could give the required 10%, maybe half of all he owned. Surly that was good enough. Like ourselves we sometimes face a trial and look around us and see plenty of people who deserve to suffer far more then we do. I asked myself why such a demanding requirement for this rich young man? If I had to guess I would say it was because if he held onto any of his wealth and possessions he would always place a portion of his own security in them. God knew that his source of security was intertwined with his money and as long as it remained in his life he would find comfort there. He would never live totally a surrendered life as long as he felt security in his possessions. How bad did he really want eternal life? When Jesus told him to sell all he had and give it to the poor, He forced the Rich young man to look himself in the mirror and choose his source of security. Who was his god?

The seemingly unfairness of this demand spoke to my heart when I struggled with why Andrea had cancer. The most faithful, honest, God fearing person I had ever met, yet for some reason she was being ask to give her all, and in doing so I was asked to give up my wife. For me that meant giving up all I had known and the one person I had intertwined my life and my security. When Jesus asked me to let go and trust him, I too was being asked to give away all my possessions, my security, and follow Him. I too was sacred and walked away sad at this seemingly high standard.

Like the rich young man I had misplaced my security in something other then what God had intended for me. Like the rich young man God saw this as a hindrance to my spiritual growth. The process of me understanding this did not occur overnight; in fact it took over two years for me to grasp what God was trying to teach me. Did I really trust God and if I did then what could this world do to harm me? Could life be difficult? Yes. Could life be hard? It was. But did God love me? He certainly did. Could I trust Him even when life was turning in a direction I did not want to go? In time yes.

God continued to speak to me until and one day as I pulled into the driveway I told Andrea I had to let her go. I had placed Andrea and our relationship above God in my life. I have written this before and I’m not trying to be prideful in my words but I was good at being Andrea’s husband. We had an amazing marriage and I was proud of my love for her. So when God told me to let her go I was a little confused. Didn’t God command me to love my wife? Didn’t he give her to me? Didn’t He ask us to become one flesh? The answer to all the above is yes, but He also told me to put nothing before Him and to “First, seek His kingdom and righteousness and all these things would be added.” Did I believe that? Did I trust Him enough to act out what I professed to believe?

I will tell you after 27 months of fighting cancer you find yourself at the end of your abilities. No longer can you hide behind temporary strengths or mere determination, reality hits you and you have to fess up that you cannot do this alone. We have many crutches in life, things we use to hold us up when we lack the strength or ability to do it ourselves. Our crutch could be possessions like the rich young man, or a relationship like mine with Andrea. God’s desire is that He be the only crutch in our life.

I think the progression to the point of surrender is reflected in our prayer position. You begin by praying quick prayers, most often while you are engaged in other tasks usually as you stand. The obstacle is a mere bump in the road hardly worthy of your precious time. As it becomes more serious you may stop to pray even sit down to devote all your attention to praying. You begin to focus on the potential enormity of the task ahead of you. This is when you see a hint that the problem you are facing may just maybe exceed your ability to handle it. Maybe outside help will be required, but the odds are low at this point. At this point you start to feel a ting of worry. If the prayer goes unanswered your fear can grow. You had counted on this being resolved long before this point but for some reason this has not occurred. Now you will kneel to pray. This may be a first for many people and it reflects a definite escalation in the matter. The probability that you will need outside assistance is likely. Usually at this point you take your concern public and begin to seek outside advice, or ask friends and family to pray for you trying to get the odds in your favor. Surely the support of more Godly people can sway the tide in your favor. Finally, if things continue and you have not won the battle, you will find yourself face down, prostrate before God, hopeless, and incapable of finding your way out of the situation. You have exhausted all your options, expended all your talents and abilities to no avail. All your talents, securities have proven inadequate; they are as filthy rags before the Lord. If you get to this point you no longer utter words in your prayers you just lay there stripped of all pride or reliance on your own abilities. You are nothing and you need Him. God brought me to this point in the summer of 2006. I was finally ready to listen, even if I did not want to hear what God had to say.

Slowly I let go of my crutches, actually at time I did not let them go but felt life kick them out from under me. I will offer this one observance, when we face a trail in life and we look with horizontal viewpoint the trail can seem unfair, undeserved and unjust. When we look with horizontal eyes we tend to say things like, “This is unfair.” We tend to compare our situation to others seeking those more “deserving” of our predicament then our self. Our focus in on why this should not have happened to us. This horizontal view can lead to bitterness, anger and resentment and unfortunately it is our eyes natural viewpoint. This viewpoint is focused on this life.

Psalm 144:4
Man is like a breath;
his days are like a fleeting shadow

However, when we look vertically we see our life in relation to eternity. When I knelt at the cross, look up and saw my savior nailed to the cross, beaten, bleeding, and suffering and in that moment I lost all my “rights” to an easy life. I looked at my savior who suffered far more than I ever will so I might have eternal life with Him. This life and its trials shrunk in comparison to what Christ did for me. I saw this life as a vapor when I put my focus was on Christ, who loved me and loved Andrea more than I ever did or ever would. I was learning to trust Christ, even when life was spinning out of control. I had to look vertically not horizontally. I will never fully understand why I lost Andrea but I am confidant one day I will, and it will all make sense. For me it came down to this and I don't mean to over simplify a very complex issue, but God was either God, in the totally of what it meant to be my creator, or it was all a lie. Simply put I was not willing to give up on my faith because I Andrea's cancer was beyond my understanding. I may not have understood it all but I knew the character of God and somehow this all fit together. I was just going to have to wait to understand it.

That is where I was when I told Andrea, I have to let you go. I was not giving up on her healing and letting her die I was submitting to God’s authority for my life. I was letting her go as the source of my security and placing God in His rightful place in my life. Relying on Andrea was my personal struggle, my weakness. If you knew her you would better understand. She was so full of faith, so different from anyone I had ever known, it was easy for me to fall under her faithfulness and inhibit my own relationship with God. This was a four year process, but in the end I found myself a far different person then I was on Aug 22 2003 the day before Andrea found her lump.

I will share it with you my last moments with Andrea because I think it shows how far God had taken me on this journey. I had not really realized it myself until I was telling this to my friend and I began to form this blog in my mind.

Dec 17 2007

When I arrived at the hospital I found Andrea in a coma like state, her body swollen from her liver failing, her breathing labored and I knew she was telling me it was time. I loved her far too much to cause her to suffer for my selfish desires. I think my greatest act of love for Andrea was to let her go when all I wanted was for her to stay. Love is not about what I want but what was best for her.

At 1225 I told the doctor it was okay to remove the breathing assistance from the ventilator and Andrea began breathing on her own for the first time in 21 days. The boys and I stood by her bed. I bent over her and whispered in her ear. I prayed with her for the last time. I assured her we would be okay. Then I sang a song in her ear. It was a song we sang at our church in North Carolina and it was about surrendering our fears. I changed the word “fear” and substituted “wife” and I sang this in her ear. This is how it goes:

Here’s my wife, I lay her down, I lay her down.
Here’s my wife, I lay her down, I lay her down.
I surrender her all to You; I surrender her all to You,
I let go and give her to You.

When I finished those words in her ear, I stood up and the doctors were walking in the room. I asked. “Is she gone?” and they said, “Yes.” I looked at the clock on the wall, it was 1:07.

When I told that story to a friend it hit me how much God had changed me during those 52 months. I had gone from a man to afraid to think about losing my wife, to a man whose last words to my wife were surrendering her. I had sought God with all my heart for relief, for healing, and finally just for His will; His answer remained constant, “Let go and Trust Me.” Like the rich young man I was asked to give up everything I valued in life although my first response was much like the rich young man my face fell and I walked away sad, but God did not give up on me. He pursued me until I was ready to understand that Christ did not die for this life but for the life that is yet to come.

Psalm 138:7-8

Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life;
you stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes,
with your right hand you save me.
The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;
your love, O LORD, endures forever

do not abandon the works of your hands.

The Other Side of Chick-Fil-A

2009-08-30T08:42:00.005-04:00

This weekend Ginger and loaded up the kids and headed to Montgomery Alabama for Boston's first soccer game with his new team. (They won both games) I've found I'm a huge fan of the DVD player they put in the cars these days. Although I'm not sure Boston and Greyson enjoyed Beauty and the Beast as much as the girls. We managed to arrive in Montgomery on time, in fact we were there early so we decided to get some lunch. I found a Chick-Fil-A thinking this is at least healthy fast food. Chick-Fil-A happened to be Andrea's and my favorite fast food places. In a previous blog, "Be Bold" I wrote about an encounter Andrea had at Chick-Fil-A.

Like most fast food chains the physical layout of every Chick-Fil-A is always the same. You enter and on your left and right there are a booths and tables but there is a difference. The left side is quieter, mostly adults. On the right you will find the families with young kids and the kid favorite playground. There is always much more activity on the right side as the kids pour out of the playground to eat their lunch or parents pleading with kids to get out. It is usually louder, more hectic and messier on the right side.

Andrea and I had graduated to the left because our kids were grown and long past the height requirement to play in the gym. Not that I did not love the left side. I once threw off my shoes and jumped in the bin of colored balls with Nic. Andrea snapped a picture that day and all you can see is our heads and smiling faces amongst the red, blue, green and yellow balls. It is one of my favorite pictures of Nic and I. But that time in my life had long passed and we had moved to the left side, where conversations shifted from Sponge Bob to current events.

However, yesterday Ginger and I were ordering and we told the kids to go find a seat, a booth more specifically. When I got the food and went to sit down I saw the kids sitting not only on the right side but at the table up against the glass wall of the playground. For an instant I glanced at the quietness and neatness, cleanliness, and calmness of the left side and it was appealing to me. But when I looked back to the left I saw five little kids talking, yes mostly all at once , and yes in an ever upward spiraling volume as they try to be heard, but all with smiles on their faces. I heard the laughter and joy of kids running to and from the playground not the noise. I saw the excitement of kid's opening the surprise toy that came with lunch, not the mess. My life is on on the right side once again. As I sat with Ginger and we discussed this shift in life style she said, "But you like the right side don't you?" "Yes, Yes I do."

The rules have become much more stringent then my last time I sat on the left side, and I doubt I will ever be able to sneak into playground and go down the slide and spill out into the thousands of brightly colored balls as I did with Nic. But this past summer I came home from work on a hot summer day and the kids were in the pool enjoying the cool water. As I watched them playing and laughing I took off my boots, removed my wallet and phone from my flight suit and took off running and leaped into the pool. I can still see the shock on Bella's face as she saw me hit the pool in my uniform. It was a look of disbelief and happiness that was soon followed by laughter.

I know it will be all to soon when Ginger and I move to the other side. I do look forward to our time of uninterrupted conversation but I will also look back to the other side with a slight ting of longing.

As I was finishing this blog Aspen walked in, her beautiful smile and amazing blue eyes, gave me a hug and said, "I love you Daddy." I wish I could capture the softness and sweetness of her voice in my typed words but I guess you just have to be here. I can assure you it was in that moment that I remembered the honor and the joy of sitting on the other side. I know how fast they go up and you miss miss the innocence of a child, the unconditional love, the simplicity of life to a little girl and the adornment you feel as a father. I know the time will come far too fast when I'm replaced by some young man that catches her eye.

Well it is Saturday morning and I have three hungry girls climbing all over me asking for "pan-a-cakes" so I will close. I always remember howAndrea loved to make the kids pancakes. She always took the time to make shapes and the boys would try to guess. I think in honor of Andrea I will do that today. I know Andrea would love to be in my place this morning. I can picture her bending over and asking the girls "What shape would you like?" Andrea had the most gentle spirit and she loved being with kids especially little girls. She loved the left side of Chick-Fil-A and I do to.

Okay I just finished making breakfast. I guess this is my first a real time blog as it happens. I did my best to make a heart, a car, a bus, boat, a fish and of course a snowman. The kids seemed to like them and I thought I was representing Andrea pretty good. Then Aspen came up and asked, "Daddy is there an Elephant?" No I said that is out of my league but I knew someone who probably could have made that happen.

Our Summer Vacation

2009-08-22T14:33:00.003-04:00

Like many of you our summer was full of travels, but ours was driven by the Air Force who gave us the chance to live in Florida. Ginger and I have over 35 years of experience in packing up and moving a family so we should be fairly astute in the moving process. But I have to say going from 2 kids to 6 kids adds a level of difficulty far beyond the obvious 300% increase in kids. I had to build a color coded calendar just to track were the kids were over the summer. It was a summer with many moving parts only made possible by loving family and friends who allowed Ginger and I to pack and unpack without the kids. It was not what I call a fun time but we were able to get the house unpacked in record time.

Eventually the time came to begin gathering up the kids who were scattered across the country . So after a week of unpacking Ginger and I started on our "Summer Vacation." It was not your normal summer vacation even though it may have looked like one. The practical side of our trip was to pick up the boys who had been staying with friends, but I would soon realize that along the way our pasts would collide. First we drove from Niceville Florida, (yes that is where we live and yes it is rather nice) to Sumter SC to pick up Boston and Greyson.

We arrived at one of Ginger and Troy's best friends house, Coop and Christy. It was Chrisy who was at Ginger's house on Nov 26th 2006 when the doorbell rang and her life was forever changed. It was Coop who became the boys mentor during camp in 2007 and 2008, for boys who had lost their father. Coop was one of the men who stood in for Troy. Coop and Christy supported Ginger, as many did and they will always hold a special place in Ginger's life. As Ginger and I drove to SC we began to realize the significance of this trip in our life. I guess previously we had been too busy to stop and think about what was going to happen. What it meant when I walked in to Coop and Christy's home with Ginger as my wife. What it meant to Ginger but also to Coop and Christy.

Next we went to see a good friend of Ginger, Marlo and Steve in Asheboro NC. Marlo had lost her husband in an aircraft accident as well and she and Ginger formed a unique bond. Ginger flew out to meet Marlo in the spring of 2007. Marlo proved to be an inspiration to Ginger has she struggled with her loss. Now two years later Ginger and I arrived at her home. It was a testimony to God's faithfulness for Marlo to see Ginger with a simile on her face, living life again.

Next we headed to Fayetteville NC to see Mac and Lisa, one of Andrea's and mine best friends. Lisa was a very special friend to Andrea. She was the first "Chemo Girl" in NC. Lisa would drive to Goldsboro every week to sit with Andrea during her treatments. Andrea and I spent many weekends visiting Mac and Lisa during our two years in North Carolina. Now I came to visit with Ginger, and for the first time Lisa met Ginger. And just has with Andrea, Lisa first formed her friendship with Ginger via the phone. So it was so nice for them to meet and to spend time together.

Finally, we headed to Goldsboro NC to pick up Anthony who had flown there to visit friends. For the first time Ginger walked into the place were Andrea and I faced our greatest trial. Much like my visits to Phoenix where I attended church with Ginger in the same church where she and Troy attended, or when I went to the house they lived in, visited friends that were "their" friends. It is a strange kind of closeness to someone I will never meet in this lifetime. Now it was Ginger that saw the house Andrea and I lived in and the squadron we were in. But it was the visit to Andrea's Oncologist, Dr. Atkins that was the most difficult for me. We went in the exam room were Andrea found out her cancer had returned. We went to the Chemo room and saw the chairs where Andrea once sat. We met the nurses that became our friends. I think it was equivalent to Ginger and I going to Troy's crash site. It was where it happened.

It soon became apparent to Ginger and I that this trip was about more than just picking up the boys, and it was more then a normal summer vacation, it was another strange step in the merging of our lives. It was another sharing of our past and the forming of our future.

One of my very favorite places on earth is the Kenai River in Alaska. It is a beautiful place where the green waters of the Kenai rush towards the sea calling the Sockeye Salmon back to the fresh waters to spawn and die. It is an amazing spectacle of nature to see the drive of these fish as they swim against the current of the river to reach the place of their birth to spawn the next generation of life. As they depart the life giving waters of the ocean and enter the fresh water of the Kenai river their life begins to end. There is no turning back and as you watch schools by the thousands go by you realize there is no desire to turn back. They are drawn onward, with a single focus. Some of those salmon are searching for the waters of the Russian River which flows into the Kenai River miles upstream of the mouth of the Kenai. It is a unique place where the clear water of the Russian meet the green water of the Kenai called the confluence. You could sit on the banks and see the Salmon by the thousands as they hugged the shore seeking the clear waters of the Russian River. Here you could watch the two rivers as they mixed and the clear waters of the Russian became one with the green glacier runoff of the Kenai. I spent many a summer day fishing with Nic and Anthony while Andrea relaxed on the bank reading a book on the banks of the Russian.

There are many symbols of life and Christianity in this image. Be the inevitable flow of the rivers towards the ocean, or the determination of the Salmon to return to their place of birth or the sacrifice one generation makes as it lays down its own life to give birth to the next. But as I think back to our vacation I think of the confluence where the two rivers mixed into one just as Ginger's and my life did this summer. Old friends that were once unique to our separate worlds now intermix and become part of our new life together. As our pasts collide and become one Ginger and I become and little more "Us" but we always carry a part of Andrea and Troy with us. No matter how far the water flows from the confluence there is some portion of the Kenai River that is uniquely the Russian River. It was that smallest of molecules that the salmon must sense as they find their way from the ocean to the place of their birth.

I think as Ginger and I become one, we balance the uniqueness of our marriage and who we are as a couple with the responsibility to keep some portion of Troy and Andrea in our life. I want Nic and Anthony to always sense Andrea in our home, just as Ginger wants Boston, Greyson, Isabella, Aspen and Annalise to always sense Troy in our home. It is a difficult task to balance but it will be the measure that we judge the success of our unique meeting.

The Wardrobe By Ginger

2009-07-04T10:54:00.001-04:00

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and I just made muffins. I also changed a picture of the twins from one frame to another. I goggled where to buy Cindy Crawford’s skincare system, emailed my mother and alas still am not sleepy. Call it moving stress or too much on my mind but I cannot sleep. Actually I went to sleep for an hour or so and then when Jim came to bed I woke up. He curled up next to me and held me tight. A little tighter than usual, I noticed. I knew Jim had been up late on the computer. And I knew he had been transferring both our old computer hard drives onto an external hard drive to take with us to Florida.

Earlier in the day, he had been working on Toy’s and Andrea’s old computers. We are continuing to compile writings for our book and he was searching for some old emails and things that Andrea had written. He also found all of his old music. I knew this jaunt down memory lane wasn’t easy for him. I was doing it myself in our master bedroom closet sorting through old letters from Troy, pictures of us, the safe full of his medals and flags and keepsakes. What to leave, what to take? With my parents moving into our home here in San Antonio, we are super blessed for so many reasons. Not the least of them being, we can safely leave many of our belongings here and not have to move them to Eglin for two years. Anyway, back to Jim at his computer… I walked in and he was listening to a song. He said it played on the radio the first night he met Andrea when they were only teenagers. I can’t say I was familiar with it since I was only 10 years old at time  (that was for Jim) but I knew the song took him back to that night. Earlier I had been on my old computer and poured over the emails Troy and I sent one another during his deployment to Iraq. Taking care of 5 kids under the age of 8, I was never a big email gal. But I quickly became one when Troy left as that was our primary source of communication.

Those emails took me back to the days and weeks and months he was away. Some of the emails were funny. Some were sad because we missed each other. Some were all-business and about the budget and how I was keeping up with doing the finances for the first time in our marriage. Some were about the kids. Some were about the war. But all were about us. Our life. Our hopes, our dreams, our struggles, our world.

Jim and I have been pretty open about sharing letters, etc…from our previous marriages with one another. We are both so curious to understand who we were so we can better understand who we are now that we agreed, for the most part, this was totally acceptable. So, I knew Jim had been reading the emails as he was downloading them and I was perfectly okay with that. Just as he was open to me reading Andrea’s earlier or listening to their songs. But when he came to bed and squeezed me extra tight, he said “I am sorry for how difficult that time was for you.” He said he understood me a little better from the insight he gained from the emails to my former husband in my former life. He said he knew Troy better and found the two of them to be even more similar than he had previously thought. He inched a little further into my heart with those statements.

In all the unsorted year-ago-move piles getting ready for the now-we’re-moving-again-we’d-better-clean-those-piles-out frenzy we have been in lately, I have come across many things. One of them was a book and card that Andrea’s friend Lisa had sent her. Though the card was from Lisa, it spoke volumes of who Andrea was as a friend. They had just spent a weekend together shopping, having lunch, catching up, etc.. girl stuff that I am sure Andrea didn’t always feel up to or get to do as often as she would like to have. Lisa talked about Andrea’s simple chic style and how much she liked having Andrea there to help her pick out the right thing. I enjoy “getting to know” who Andrea’s friends were. Some of them I have even gotten to know myself. But I always enjoy hearing Jim tell stories of Andrea’s friendships with many different types of women. And how she was a really good friend to all of them. A friend of hers called last week. She was an older Jamaican woman, who owned a tea room, from their church in NC. Jim talked about the opening night and how he and Andrea had helped her set the tables nicely for her first customers. I could just picture Andrea doing that. I have read her journals and always am amazed at how she remembered to pray for others when most of us in her circumstances would have only prayed for ourselves. I was touched when Jim showed me the day she had written my name down on one of her many prayer lists.

Jim read emails from Troy about how conflicted he was by fulfilling his duty to country yet knowing he was leaving me with so many responsibilities at home. Jim got in bed and told me how strange it was that we have seven kids together yet he reads emails to know me better. Old emails, worn letters, journal entries… Jim and I refer to them as “little windows” into our pasts. We take whatever opportunities we can if we think they will help us with this, our “new normal”; our new world.

If you have ever read C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe or seen the movie, then you probably remember one of the defining and pivotal points in the movie; the first time Lucy opens the wardrobe doors

Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are four siblings sent to live in the country with the eccentric Professor Kirke during World War II. The children explore the house on a rainy day and Lucy, the youngest, finds an enormous wardrobe. Lucy steps inside and finds herself in a strange, snowy wood. Lucy encounters the Faun Tumnus, who is surprised to meet a human girl. Tumnus tells Lucy that she has entered Narnia, a different world. Tumnus invites Lucy to tea, and she accepts. Lucy and Tumnus have a wonderful tea, but the faun bursts into tears and confesses that he is a servant of the evil White Witch. The Witch has enchanted Narnia so that it is always winter and never Christmas. Tumnus explains that he has been enlisted to capture human beings. Lucy implores Tumnus to release her, and he agrees. Lucy exits Narnia and eagerly tells her siblings about her adventure in the wardrobe. They do not believe her, however. Lucy's siblings insist that Lucy was only gone for seconds and not for hours as she claims. When the Pevensie children look in the back of the wardrobe they see that it is an ordinary piece of furniture. Edmund teases Lucy mercilessly about her imaginary country until one day when he sees her vanishing into the wardrobe. Edmund follows Lucy and finds himself in Narnia as well.

Jim and I are a lot like Lucy. The day we married we walked up to one another’s old wardrobes, open the doors and stepped inside of each other’s Narnias; strange and unfamiliar worlds full of family and friend s we were invited to have tea with. Except there is no Edmund to go with us and share both our old worlds and our new worlds with

We are learning about one another more everyday single day. About the incredible spouses we had who helped make us who were are. About what we did, where we lived, what we hoped and dreamed for.

As Jim and I move again next week, this time to a totally new place, one where we will simply be Jim and Ginger Ravella. More and less of who we were, it is with a level of peace (this is God’s plan) and a tinge of sadness (we liked His first plan as well). Thank goodness Aslan was in Narnia and Jesus is in Florida. We have the Light to shine on whatever new road He asks us to walk.

Isa 42:16
I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.

Fathers Day

2009-06-28T13:11:00.004-04:00

The natural progression of raising children goes something like this: taking care of their many needs as infants…. watching them develop into “real little people”…. raising them to be godly, responsible young adults….equipping them with the skills they need to succeed in life…. and then finally enjoying watching them repeat the cycle with their own children….

The dots in between represent the little daily conversations, exchanges and events that take place in common everyday life. The way we all get to know one another as intimately as we do in what we call the family unit. Husbands and wives. Parents and children. Mothers usually spend a little more time at home so we are the ones front and center to watch the dynamic action between those relationships take place. When Troy would get home from work one of my favorite things was to humor him (or complain to him- depending on the day) about the goings-on of that day.

I always enjoyed telling Troy the cute, funny, fascinating and often “unique” things his kids had said during the day. I miss that. Don’t get me wrong, I love telling Jim these things, too, and the better he gets to know each child individually the more he appreciates and understands the subtle humor or inside meaning. Or the way their individual personalities expose themselves in the light of everyday banter. As time is marching on, he is definitely sharing in this side of the adventure more and more. With each passing month I witness his relationship with the children growing. Jim is a natural-born observer of human nature.. When that quality is the most needed is in the arena of parenting. As much as I see him observing the children I also see them observing him. Troy and I always had very open and loving children. And by the grace of God, the power of thousands covering their precious little hearts in prayer and many people to stand in the gap when Troy was physically gone or I was emotionally spent, they are still those same open and loving children. I knew they would embrace Jim and whether or not they truly understand it now one day they will see the many ways he is pouring himself into their lives. Jim's boys have not as readily embraced me. Yet, out of my love for their dad, I will never stop opening myself up to them and seeking relationships with them. I know Jim misses sharing their more-developed life occurrences with Andrea. I know next year when Anthony graduates from high school and Nic marries Kate one week afterwards, Jim will greatly miss their mother being next to him and seeing her boys reach yet another milestone and crossing into adulthood even further.

I can speculate as to what Jim feels about this situation. However, since he is an amazing writer I will leave it to him to write about his perspective on the subject of parenting without his original partner. Jim did get the blessing of sharing his boys’ childhoods with Andrea. He crossed many bridges with her. I, however, only made it part way before the bridge collapsed. Our babies were still pretty much babies when he passed away.

I dearly miss Troy knowing the kids better than he did when he last saw them. They have grown up and changed so much. Who they are, the way they think, the way they look at life becomes more evident with each passing year. The years are passing, Troy, without you. That thought makes me sad.

The first year milestones like birthdays, first times of this or that happening, holidays and the like become immediate in-your-face type of things I was all too acutely aware he was missing. Better known as the empty-chair syndrome. They caused muc heartache. Still I walk through those days gingerly, waiting for the wave of grief to come and sweep me away. Praise God, much healing has happened and I can enjoy these days for what they are now. Ever missing Troy but in a gentler, softer and more muted way.

However, it’s the little things, especially the little things that come out of the little mouths in our home, that I will never stop longing to tell him.

Troy, like Jim, was good at pegging other people’s personalities with having very little information about them. He was a great judge of character. He talked a little less and listened a little more than I probably did so that fact made him a great observer. And there is no one he observed more than our children. He really studied them. He talked to them a lot. He listened to them more. He spent quality time with them. I think as moms we are a bit envious of the fact that dads get to do that more than we do. I often felt like I just had too much to do taking care of all the needs and demand of feeding and cleaning them. You know how those big piles of laundry or the dirty toilets can seem more important at times. I admit it’s sometimes difficult to stop what I am doing and just listen to them. Troy was much better at that than me. So, even though the bigger kids were only 8, 6 and 3 years old at the time he left for Iraq, I still take comfort in the fact that he already knew as much as he could about who they were. Unfortunately with the twins only being 6 months old, he really never got that chance. I had a new photo taken of the kids and he received it just a few days before he died. His comment about the twins were “wow, they are big and beautiful!” They still are, Troy. Off the charts on height and weight! They look older than they are. And I have to brag, with their angelic little faces, big blue eyes and the blonde ringlets you never saw… they ARE beautiful!

I remember him talking about Bella’s strong will and sparkling personality. He knew she was independent and tough. He always laughed that boys cried much more than she did when they all got spankings. He thought she was going to grow up to be beautiful. He called her his “Pretty P” (the P short for princess). He also knew she would have some princess traits (aka somewhat high maintenance). Once when she was about four years old, I asked her repeatedly to pick up her toys in the living room and take them upstairs to the playroom. She looked me square in the eye and said, “Mom, I can’t do that.” When I asked her why? She replied “I can’t go up there because I look much more beautiful downstairs.” Hmmm, Pretty Princess. You were spot on, Troy. He also said nothing scared him in the world more than raising her, his first daughter.

She also has her daddy's obsession with all things chocolate. On more than one occasion I would catch Troy eating brownies for breakfast or handfuls of chocolate chips before dinner!

Bella and Greyson find an endless amount of topics to debate. Despite mine and Jim’s constant monitoring and disciplining, he looks for ways to make her feel stupid. A couple of months ago, I was standing on the back patio steps with the kids and we were all watching two bright green geckos as they watched us. The kids were fascinated. I asked the children what they thought the geckos might be thinking about us. I said, “Do you think they think we are some kind of giants?” Isabella likes to be the first to comment about anything and proudly speaks up, “Yes, I think they think we are the New York Giants!” Greyson turns to her with a look of disdain and says, in a quite demeaning tone, “Bella, we aren’t even FROM New York.”

I often wonder what Troy would do about this ongoing battle to encourage them to love one another. They constantly rub each other the wrong way. They delight in pushing one another’s buttons. I don't think he would be surprised , either, at how much Greyson and Isabella fight. I know it would ring and all-too-familiar bell in his mind at how he and his sister, Rhonda, went at it. Troy tormented her to no end. And always thought he needed to exhibit how much more he knew about everything than she did. Well, guess what Troy? I am getting the payback for that sin of your past with these two! I just know you would be apologizing to your mother about now for the endless amount of squabbling she must have endured between you and your sister.

He laughed at Greyson a lot. He always got a kick out of the way Greyson thought outside of the normal box compared to everyone else. He knew Greyson was going to be pretty intelligent, too, when he was amazed at how quickly Greyson picked up multiplication in kindergarten just by observing while he helped Boston with his homework. Greyson is in the gifted classes and had near perfect scores on the TAKS test this year, so you were right, Troy. Greyson was more interested in scientific facts and mathematical statistics than sports, though. I remember when Troy subbed for Greyson’s soccer coach once and Greyson was just leisurely strolling down the field noticing grass, butterflies and people more than that round black and white ball. These traits didn’t quite go with Troy’s competitive and excellent athleticism or natural drive, focus or determination. He wasn’t sure he could ever coach Greyson on a team again. He always said we might end up visiting Greyson as an adult in his paleontologist’s trailer on a dig site in some remote country. Greyson is still quite into science and space and looks at life with an interesting twist. But I think Troy would be surprised to see what a great basketball player he has become. Not necessarily because he has Troy’s same natural athletic ability but he does now possess Troy’s level of determination that he lacked that day on the soccer field. He will practice shooting hoops for hours all by himself. He has even developed his own daily workout routine. I catch glimpses of him laying on the driving repetively lifting a chair up and down. He likes numbers, routine and following directions to the letter. Troy never knew those things. He also has sleeping issues some nights and I wonder if it's because you are gone Troy, or would he have had them anyway? He never was a great sleeper so maybe that would happened anyway. Greyson also has a bit of a short fuse like his daddy so we work on good sportsmanship and exhibiting patience with others. But he would be proud of him for not giving up and I think Troy would find he might even enjoy coaching him now!

Boston. Ahh, Boston. You always said “That boy has a mighty heart. He’s special.” You couldn’t have been more right, Troy. As I watched him at his elementary school graduation last Friday, I thought of you. I saw the boy you knew growing into the young man you knew he would become. He won both best athlete and best artist. Two things you excelled in as well, Troy. He was on the Presidential list for academics. He was voted “Best Sportmanship” on his club soccer team. He won the Tim Duncan character award from the Spurs. His teacher put him in for it against many other students from all over San Antonio. He exhibited all the qualities the great player and man, Tim Duncan himself, deems valuable: putting others before self, good sportsmanship, integrity, going the extra mile… etc.. We only lived here a year. Even in that amount of time, strangers saw in him things you saw long ago. His character is solid. He is gracious and thoughtful and kind. He is a natural born leader yet never abrasive. He is patient and kind. He loves the Lord and even reads his Bible on his own. He grapples with deep spiritual issues. I will never forget, one day, months after Troy died, Boston and I were loading groceries in the back of the car in the Wal-Mart parking lot. We were both heartbroken, hurting so badly, desperately wanting the pain to go away. And Boston looked at me and asked with frustration, “Everybody always talks about how Jesus is coming back any day now. Why doesn’t He just come now and take us all to heaven?” There wasn’t much I could say. I wondered the same thing.

Boston, like his father, demands justice. He doesn’t like unfairness or people getting away without repercussions for their actions. I believe this is another way he is like Troy. Troy went to Iraq and fought the good fight that day in late November because he wasn’t going to let the bad guy get away with it. Boston has drive and determination yet is never demanding. He is the only child that remembered to ask me what I wanted for Christmas. And last week at the hospital during his scary fainting episode and ambulance ride, afterwards he thanked me for being there for him. You were right he has a mighty heart.

There have been many times just in the last few months that I have wanted you to hear the things they say or answer their questions. I had to have “the talk” with Boston because his fifth grade class watched the movie on puberty and body changes. I pulled out the book my mom read to me so many years ago and tentatively waded my way through the unfamiliar waters of telling your first-born the facts of life. Troy would have chuckled at the end when Boston said “Mom, I pretty much already knew most of this.” I guess I was too late. Ha.

Boston is addicted to soccer. He seemed to focus in on the sport soon after Troy died. Again, maybe he would have anyway or maybe it gave him something to pour his broken heart into. Either way, he now excels at it and practices alone in the yard for hours every day. He faithfully watches most soccer games and keeps up with all the players and soccer news. He analyzes the pros slick tricks and fancy footwork and is always ready to show me his latest success. The last one was taking his shirt off while bending over and balancing the soccer ball on the back of his neck without the ball ever falling off. Pretty amazing I must admit. He is always telling me about his favorite players and who is being traded for which team. But the other day, he just said out of the blue, “Mom, I wonder who Dad’s favorite soccer player was.” I was saddened to tell him I didn’t know. I wished he had been sitting at the dining table to ask that too as well. My only response was “You’ll have to remember to ask him that when you get to heaven.”

In Mercy Me’s song, “Finally Home”, I always think of Boston and Greyson when Bart Millard, who lost his own father as a teenager, sings about finally getting Home and being reunited with his father. How he tells him:
“I'm gonna wrap my arms around my daddy's neck and tell him that I've missed him and tell him all about the man that I became and hope that it pleased him.”

That will be my boys.

Isabella is never one to shy from a crowd. She never met a stranger. She notices EVERYTHING. Every little beauty flaw. Every little comment. She talks to everyone about everything and believes she is an expert on the subject, whether she is or not. (I think she might have gotten that trait from her Daddy!) The other day, we were talking about adoption and out of the blue, she told me that a little girl in her Sunday School class said that if parents don’t want their baby then Barack Obama will just kill them and wondered whether that was really true. As a mom, how do explain that one to your five-year old? Where was Troy to explain pro-choice vs. pro-life issues with her?

Then another day last week in the car we were discussing one of her friend’s and Bella was telling me about finally getting to go to her house and play. She said “Mom, she has the most beautiful toys. And she is really beautiful, too.” I agreed with her. Then Bella said, “Mom, you know who isn’t beautiful? Satan.” Well, yes, I had to agree with that one.

I confess I see a lot of both me and Troy in Isabella. As my friend Amy has always said, “Isabella has every personality trait Troy and I possess and that is a lot goin’ on in one little girl!” Sometimes it makes me smile. Sometimes it makes me cringe. She takes life by the horns and with passionate determination like her daddy. She loves socializing and girlie stuff like her momma yet is totally comfortable hanging in there with the boys and can persuade you to her side just as vehemently as her dad could. I always told Troy he’d have made a great lawyer with his debate skills. Isabella, too, has the power of persuasion!

She is fascinated with people, especially the famous ones. Where could she have gotten that from? (Yes, I still have every Princess Di book in print.) I also have a shameful little addiction to reading People magazine. Recently I have caught Bella pouring over the pages. For the most part it’s harmless. She likes to look at the pretty movie stars in their fancy clothes in exotic places. She will spend a little extra time on a page if it has some couple kissing. She loves love just like her momma. Yesterday we were sitting the lobby waiting on a prescription to be filled. Not much reading material for children there. Annalise was looking at a parenting magazine. Aspen chose a boating recreation one. And Bella, grabs the Entertainment Weekly, of course. She is scanning the pages looking at the rich and famous. I was watching her “read” and noticed a picture of George Clooney. I told Bella that I thought he was very handsome. She looked at me and said “He looks like Daddy Troy.” I think so too, Bella. Like mother, like daughter.

Jim was recently gone TDY for over a week and I noticed Bella tearing up more frequently over Troy. Then the second Jim returned home she would not leave his sight and clamored for his attention and affection. We wondered if his absence brought her back to life without the presence of a dad.

I know there will be an endless string of things Troy will never hear. A lifetime of stories and quips and comments that I can’t share with him about the children he and I lovingly brought into the world. But I still smile, even if it’s a smile tinged with sadness, when I think of telling him at the not the end of our day, but the beginning of our eternity how much these kids of ours, for better or worse, resemble us.

Troy, you were an inspiring example of how to be a great dad simply by knowing and spending time with your kids. I tell the kids you are watching them from heaven. Not necessarily because I have any biblical fact to base that one. But because I just can’t imagine you not being forever involved in their lives. And totally committed to helping them be the best they can be in Christ. You would be proud of Jim. He has stepped up to the plate and wants to make you and the Lord proud of him. You know how crushed I was that first Father’s Day without you. But, I remember we shared it with good friends at a resort swimming pool and Isabella learned to swim that day. I didn’t teach her. My friend Tami did. I was too sad. Too tired. Too heartbroken to even realize she was ready to learn. Troy, you were such a better swimmer than I. I can’t do the strokes correctly and I am always fearful the kids will drown if I let go of them. You were supposed to be there to do that. But how just like God to send us Jim, another great swimmer, to teach your last two little ones.

Parents dying before children is the "natural" order of things but not so soon. And not before they get a chance to witness all these firsts. For reasons I will never understand God thought you, Troy, had seen enough from your earthly perspective. Instead, He sent many others to step into your shoes that day. Pretty much every single day since you went Home. The Lord always had an amazing way of doing that after you were gone, Troy. Always.

The other day, Jim played me an old song titled, “You Left Me When I Needed You Most” by Randy Vanwarmer. I had heard it a long time ago. I think it must have originally been written by someone whose loved one had chosen to leave them behind but the words somehow still closely resembled the cry of my heart after Troy died.

"You packed in the morning and I
Stared out the window and I
Struggled for something to say
You left in the rain
Without closing the door
I didn't stand in your way

But I miss you more than I
Missed you before and now
Where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most

Now most every morning I
Stare out the window and I
Think about where you might be
I've written you letters
That I'd like to send
If you would just send one to me

'Cause I need you more than I
Needed before and now
Where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most

You packed in the morning I
Stared out the window and I
Struggled for something to say
You left in the rain
Without closing the door
I didn't stand in your way

Now I love you more than I
Loved you before and now
Where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most
Oh, yeah
You left me
Just when I needed you most

You left me
Just when I needed you most"

I did feel like I was standing in the rain holding all five of our children’s little hands. There couldn’t have been a more difficult time for him to have left us. I guess that’s how it always feels, though. There is never a “good time” to be left. Though, I can promise you that God never left me. Not alone, though I felt abandoned. Not in the rain, though it felt my entire life was swept away in a flash flood. Where I found comfort, God DID know. I found comfort in Him. The One who promises to never leave us or forsake us. He is the only Father that will remain forever. He is the Alpha and the Omega. The ultimate Father on Father’s Day.

What I deserve

2009-06-21T14:10:00.004-04:00

Matthew 6:19-21

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Courtesy of the Air Force this Father’s Day I’m sitting in a hotel room in Montgomery Alabama. It is not what I would have wanted but that is our career and sacrifices are all too common. My friend Mike said, “I can’t believe you have seven kids and are alone on Father’s Day.” Seems crazy bit maybe it was so I would have time to write this blog.

Today I heard a song today as I traversed Montgomery searching for a church, the song was by Natalie Grant, called “Our Hope Endures.”

You would think only so much can go wrong Calamity only strikes once And you assume that this one has suffered her share Life will be kinder from here

Sometimes the sun stays hidden for years Sometimes the sky rains night after night When will it clear But our hope endures the worst of conditions It's more than our optimism Let the earth quake Our hope is unchanged

How do we comprehend peace within pain Our joy at a good man's wake Walk a mile with a woman whose body is torn With illness but she marches on

We never walk alone This is our hope Our hope endures, the worst of conditions It's more than our optimism let the earth quake let the earth quake let the earth quake Our hope is unchanged

I listened to the words as I drove and I thought the concept of what we deserve. Of course Ginger and I have had this discussion many times. We did not deserve what we endured and Andrea and Troy did not deserve to have their lives cut short. But I doubt they feel cheated out of anything right now, it is those of us left behind are the ones who tend to fell cheated out.

I did not deserve to watch my wife suffer and die, and Ginger did not deserve to have men in blue uniforms knock on her door. What we deserved was to be happy and for life to progress the way we had laid out, to follow the script. The script many of us adhere to. A script usually penned by our own hand. The one that says when we place our faith in Christ we have a contract with God that entitles us to “What we deserve.”

This past week I was talking to a good friend and they are about to celebrate their 25th anniversary. I did not get that with Andrea and for an instance it hurt and last week our friends retired and built their dream home and have begun life without kids. I did not get that and in a way it also hurt. Andrea and I were 18 months away for an empty nest, and nearing retirement. We had paid the dues of a 20+ career in the Air Force and we were about to reap our harvest, our reward for faithful service, but we never got there. We would always say we will do that when “We get where we were going.” We never got there. And there is a sense of injustice when death erases all dreams plans and entitlements. One of the harder events soon after I lost Andrea was I attended a friends retirement. I sat and listened to the summation of a career and watch the happy family get what they deserved, the accolades for a job well done. I watched the wife pin the retirement pin on her husband and I listened to proclamation of recognizing the efforts of his wife. I watched the excitement as they set off on a new journey outside of the hectic pace of the military life. I felt cheated for Andrea because she will never be praised for all she did for me, my career and the Air Force. She did not get what she “deserved.”

But maybe my grip is not so much what Andrea deserved but what I think I deserved. Really Andrea and Troy got more then they deserved, and it is called mercy. Today Andrea does not hurt, her bones do not ache and she no longer suffers endless doctor’s appointments. Today she has no need of faith, like the lyrics from “I Will Rise” by Chris Tomlin. “My faith shall be my eyes.” Who says we deserve living in the presence of our creator? Thankfully we don’t get what we truly deserve.

Romans 6:23

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

After church today I noticed I had missed a call from Ginger. I played the message and I heard three sweet voices tell me, “Happy Fathers Day Daddy, I love you. As I listened to their words I thought of Troy. I always think their love is his. I fell like I’m at the Academy Awards Troy is unable to attend the announcer says, “Accepting the award for Troy Gilbert is Jim Ravella. The crowd still cheers and applauds but I know their praise is not for me. The pride I fell is his pride and the joy I feel is his. I just have the honor of standing in. It is hard to describe the emotions of being a dad to Troy’s children. He did not walk out on them, nor did he dread his role as a father to five. It could not be more opposite. He loved his kids and loved being a dad. You don’t have to be around very long to learn that about Troy. You hear it from family and friends but I see it most in Boston. He loved his dad and he misses him. Greyson and Isabella know what a special dad Troy was and they definitely feel the loss, but Boston remembers his Dad the most. As the oldest I think he felt the pain Ginger suffered in a different way than the other kids. He was thrust into manhood when all he should have been worried about was being a boy.

I don’t feel nearly the weight of filling in for Troy as a fellow fighter pilot, and he was a war hero. Instead it is the weight of fathering his children that I feel the most. I feel that weight every time I read to the boys hear the girls holler “Watch me Daddy.” I feel it every day of my life. Every time I watch Boston play soccer, Greyson play basketball, Bella draw a picture, Aspen dress up and imagine herself at the ball or Annalise fearlessly take on life. And I feel somewhat guilty for taking any credit for their accomplishments but it how I honor Troy, and his memory.

It helps me to think of myself as standing in for Troy because I know one day I will meet him. I want to know I did my best to raise them to know Christ to know the amazing man that their father was. I know Ginger wrote about the adoption earlier and truthfully that was merely a legal ceremony where I pledged to be legally responsible for the kids. Not to belittle that day because it was a very special day for us all, but I did not become their father that day, I was just made their legal guardian. I considered myself their father the day Ginger and I decided to marry. I picked up a baton that Troy laid down and I will carry it with honor until God calls me home. I don’t ever think of myself as replacing Troy in anyway, but I do stand in the gap for him and in many ways I feel him beside me.

I think one day I will be held accountable for my life. First of course is to Jesus, for my life and what I did with the gifts and talents He gave me. But second, I think is to Troy, for how I raised the kids. This is probably not a biblical principle but it is the level of importance that I place on my role as their father. I hope Troy is proud of me when we meet.

I wish I could attach the message the girls left me to this blog because I cannot capture what it meant to me to hear that from my girls; my first official Father’s Day as their dad. You have heard the saying sweet as honey that is what their words were to me. I’m woefully inadequate in my ability to capture what I felt in this blog. I have been a dad of boys my whole life and I love raising boys and doing boy things but I’m learning that girls are very different. They really do melt your heart. I loved playing Army, or rockets with Nic and Anthony. I loved cutting out guns from wood or making battle flags and forts. I loved reading mysteries and adventures with them. I loved and still do, love watching sports with them. With Nic living abroad he does not get a lot of American sporting events so I called him on Skype and turned the video camera to the TV and we watched Hockey and football together. I have many fond memories of being a dad to Nic and Anthony and I feel that again with Boston and Greyson but I can tell you there is adoration and love in a little girl’s voice when she tells you she loves you. It is humbling to be given such responsibility to care for a little girl. I don’t want to upset any women who might read this and think somehow I think girls are not equal to boys, or boys are better then girls. That is not what I’m trying to say. Boys and girls are equal and they are different and that is okay, it is how God created us. I find that more than my boys, I feel a responsibility to protect my girls. I feel that with Ginger and I felt it with Andrea. It is what made watching her suffer and not being able to stop it so difficult. I can tell you I feel it when I heard the girls say, "I love you Daddy." You sense it in the way they respond when you talk firm or discipline them. They seek your approval more than a little boy and they advocate the role to you. You don’t sense the struggle for independence as much as you do with a boy, Bella being excluded! But even in their independence they still seek approval from dad and I felt it in their sweet soft voices when they said “I love you daddy.” How I felt today when I listened to their voices will be with me forever.

Then it hit me, as much as Andrea and I did not deserve the suffering we endured I do not deserve the blessing of raising seven wonderful children. I concluded maybe I should not look at this life as my reward or my punishment. Maybe I need to remind myself that what I deserve is not wrapped up in the results of this life but in how I react to this life. The truth is the only crown we are promised is when we stand before Jesus.

1 Peter 5:1-5

To the elders among you, I appeal as a fellow elder, a witness of Christ's sufferings and one who also will share in the glory to be revealed: 2Be shepherds of God's flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not greedy for money, but eager to serve; not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock. And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away.

I’m reminded that this life is hard and sometimes it does not go according to the script but then again that depends on whose script you are reading. I need to remind myself that I freely accept Christ suffering for my salvation yet somehow I feel a sense of injustice when I’m asked to pick up my cross.

I will close with my own Father’s Day wish,

Happy Fathers Day Troy. You would be very proud of the kids. Of course they are all growing up way too fast but they are children of character who are a Godly example to those around them. From what I hear, they get that from you.

Until we meet,
Jim

National Cancer Survivors Day

2009-06-11T22:51:00.005-04:00

Memorial Day the day we remember those who lost their life serving in the Military. As a member of the Armed Forces I’m proud that our nation remembers those who paid the ultimate price serving this country. It goes without saying that Memorial Day holds a very special place in the life of my family. We spent this Memorial Day talking to the kids and remembering Troy. Ginger and I tried to explain to 5 children the “why” in the tragedy of their lives. We of course fell short for there is no adequate explanations to help an 11 yr old boy understand what happened to the security of his life and sanctuary of his family. I watched our 5 year old, Isabella, cry missing her dad and I knew I had no answer for her tears. Really the only answer I have is that God Love remains an answer that is difficult at times for an adult to understand yet alone a 5 yr old.

Memorial Day is not just a day to cook out, or just the official beginning of summer, nor just an excuse for a day off work. No it is a day for this family to remember we pay that “ultimate price,” words that flow off many a tongue on Memorial Day but few realize the reality of what those words mean to a child or a mother, father, brother, sister or spouse.

But do you know what the first Sunday in June is? A short 2 weeks following Memorial Day is National Cancer Survivors Day, celebrated this year on 7 June. I saw the posters at the base hospital and news stories online. I began to wonder were to those who die from cancer fit in? There is no day of honor, or really even acknowledgement of those who did not “survive.” I guess it takes away the positive spin and may in fact take away the hope we are trying to instill in those who are fighting cancer. Or maybe it is just too hard to raise money for cancer research if you focus on the hundreds of thousands that did not make it. Maybe the dollars we spend might seem inadequate in the light of the cost in human lives this disease is costing us. Maybe.

Here is what is posted on the National Cancer Survivors Day Website:

National Cancer Survivors Day® is an annual, worldwide Celebration of Life that is held in hundreds of communities throughout the United States, Canada, and other participating countries. Participants unite in a symbolic event to show the world that life after a cancer diagnosis can be a reality.

Who is a cancer survivor?

The National Cancer Survivors Day Foundation defines a "survivor" as anyone living with a history of cancer – from the moment of diagnosis through the remainder of life.

Do we fear that young men will not join the service or volunteer to fight for this nation if we reminded them that they might die? No I think we instill a value of what it means to serve. We elevate service before self, when we take the time to remember our war dead. We lay a wreath at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and we place flags on every grave in the national Cemeteries. We do this to show the value in the lives that were laid down for the freedom we all enjoy. And rightly so.

But somehow I think there is a shame to acknowledge the price paid for cancer. Maybe because we are supposed to die and somehow dying from cancer is “expected” so the warriors are those who beat the odds and live where death was once the expectation. I really don’t know. All I do know is Andrea is lost in the numbers, just one of the 20,000 women in 2007 who died from breast cancer. There is no day or time to remember those who died. When you go to a Relay for Life, or Komen Race for the cure they always start with a “Survivors Walk,” a time to honor those who are alive. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad there are more and more survivors each year from this horrible disease. I guess when you are trying to raise money for cancer research you don't want to remind people about the losses. It makes for an uncomfortable feeling when you are representing someone who died. I find myself wanting to tell someone about this amazing woman who never choose this battle, yet fought it with courage equal to any. Yet there is no moment to acknowledge those who paid the ultimate price in this battle.

I remember going to the Relay for Life with Andrea in North Carolina. It was a festive time to walk the track and visit with friends but there were the ever-present luminaries lining the track. Some labeled “In Honor of…” and some labeled, “In Memory of…” As a cancer patient it was difficult to see the lives represented on those luminaries. There were pictures of loved ones, notes from family members all in an attempt to capture a life on this white paper sack. It is all you get as a “Non-survivor,” and it was very difficult. Difficult because Andrea and I knew how close we were to going from “In Honor of” to “In Memory of.” It was a fine line and we were in the fight, and it was as if we were on a raft drifting ever closer to the falls and our only hope was to find a low hanging branch to grab onto. We never found one.

So where does that leave me and the memory of Andrea. There is no national day set aside to honor her, no moment where the nation stops to reflect on the lives taken and families disrupted. Just me and my memories, maybe it is a song I hear on the radio, but those are becoming ever fewer as new songs come out. Maybe it is a sunset I know Andrea would have loved to see, or a flower she would have loved to plant, but they are moments in day, and they happen in the seclusion of my mind. Sometimes they bring a smile mostly a tear, both only known to me. But I would say Andrea was a survivor, because she never let cancer dictate her life. She lived her life, yes she adjusted to the reality of cancer, she dealt with the sickness and the endless doctor’s appointments but she took this on as her new normal and she lived. To me that is what defined her as a survivor.

So happy Cancer Survivors Day Andrea, I miss you.

Here I Am

2009-06-08T23:00:00.002-04:00

Bible studies, movies and Bar-B-Ques might not always go together but I think it was the perfect way to spend Memorial Day.

Jim and I feel it is very important to teach the kids (and re-teach ourselves) the importance of the meaning behind Memorial Day. We honor their dad everyday, I hope. Yet on Memorial Day it seemed more important than ever to pause and talk about it a little more extensively. That morning, Jim gathered us all together and opened the Bible to Hebrews. I hadn’t a clue where he was going with this one but for our family it was perfect not only for Memorial Day but for the crazy God-filled week that followed.

Much of Hebrews teaches us about the comparisons between Old Testament ways and the New Testament WAY (Christ). God ordered things just a certain way under Old Testament Law to help the people ritually cleanse themselves from sin. If you have studied about the Old Testament Tabernacle you know the Lord specifically laid out the set up: two rooms, the outer and inner with the lampstand, altar, oil, consecrated bread, etc… each in their own designated spot. A curtain separated the rooms and only the high priest once a year, after numerous ceremonial washings and carrying the blood of only the most flawless and unblemished goat or calf could enter in. He went to God on behalf of himself and all the people to ask God for forgiveness of sins. I don’t think we can imagine what a huge production this was year after year because as New Testament believers He has never asked us to undergo such stringent practices. But God Himself knew this wasn’t the “final answer”.

Hebrews 8:5
“They serve at a sanctuary that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven.”
And He knew it wasn’t good enough to bring us into His presence for eternity.

Hebrews 8:7
“For if there had been nothing wrong with that first covenant, no place would have sought for another.” God sent Christ, His Son, THE unblemished One, to be the final answer.

Hebrews 10: 4-7
“…because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. Therefore when Christ came into the world, He said: “Sacrifice and offering You did not desire, but a body You prepared for me; with burnt offerings and sin offerings You were not pleased. Then I said, “Here I am-it is written about me in the scroll- I have come to do your will, O God.”

That was our lesson for Memorial Day. Obviously, in a much different way, those who volunteer to serve their country and put themselves in harm’s way and sacrifice things very dear to them, often the ultimate, on the behalf of others (most of the rest of us) mimic that same spirit as Christ. Those men and women stand up and say, “Here I am”.

Lyrics from the song “Here I Am” by the Christian group, Downhere, immediately come to mind:

Sometimes your calling, comes in dreams
Sometimes in comes in the Spirit's breeze,
You reach for the deepest hope in me,
And call out for the things of eternity.

But I'm a man, of dust and stains,
You move in me, so I can say,

CHORUS:
Here I am, Lord send me,
All of my life, I make an offering,
Here I am, Lord send me,
Somehow my story, Is a part of your plan,
Here I am

When setbacks and failures, and upset plans,
Test my faith and leave me with empty hands,
Are you not the closest when it's hardest to stand?
I know that you will finish what you began.

These broken parts you redeem,
Become the song, that I can sing

Here I am, Lord send me,
All of my life, I make an offering,
Here I am, Lord send me,
Somehow my story, Is a part of your plan,
Here I am

Overwhelmed by the thought of my weakness,
And the fear that I'll fail you in the end,
In this mess, I'm just one of the pieces,
I can't put this together but you can.

Here I am, Lord send me,
I wanna live my life as an offering
Here I am, Lord send me,
Somehow my story, Is part of your plan,
Here I am

Here I am, all my life an offering to you, to you
Somehow my story, Is a part of your plan,
Here I am

I wanted the kids to comprehend that Memorial Day commemorates not only their dad but all those that died that in the line of duty. I received a touching and convicting email from General Rand, our family friend, and I asked him if I could share a part of it. His military career and life experience have given him the perspective we all need. He says:

“ Unfortunately, we really have "lost the bubble" on Memorial Day. We use it as the official kick off to the summer, going to the beach, vacations, rock concerts, etc. I fell into that trap when I was at Kunsan by endorsing block party functions over Memorial Day, similar to what we did during all the other long 3 or 4 day weekends (Fourth of July, Labor day, etc). Very little focus was on the true meaning of Memorial Day. Learned from that mistake, and toned things down significantly while I was the Commander at Luke, and by the time I was at Balad as the Wing Commander. I fully appreciated how Memorial Days should be celebrated. Our Memorial Day that year in Iraq wasn't celebrated with brats, hot dogs, burger burns, keggers, softball tourneys, outdoor concerts, or pool parties. Instead, in May 2007, we had a 24 hour vigil with volunteer airmen guarding our small Memorial wall in honor of all fallen airmen during OIF, in addition to a solemn service in a big tent that held 500+ warriors who gathered to reflect and remember. On the stage were nine empty chairs....eight chairs representing the eight airmen the 332 AEW had lost from Memorial Day 2006 to the Memorial Day 2007,and one chair representing all the soldiers, marines, and sailors who had died during that same period. After that service and over the next three weeks, five more 332 AEW airmen, and over 100 soldiers and marines were killed in Iraq. Prior to my tour in Iraq, I thought I had a healthy appreciation for what Memorial Day meant, but will now admit it is crystal clear. This week I was hosting a delegation of Israelis at a lunch. Somehow, at my table we got on the subject of how our countries treat their respective Memorial Days. In Israel, it is the day before their Independence Day, and it is a time of serious National mourning and reflection. Stores and all public businesses are closed. No parties, and not not an excuse to just get a day off from work. Without any prompting from me, one of my Israeli colleagues who I have gotten to know fairly well over the past two years described the difference between Israel's Memorial Day and the United States Memorial Day. Here is what he said, "in Israel we don't use it as an opportunity to party, go to the beach, or have bargain sales like America does." He didn't mean it as a slam. It's been my experience that Israelis are straight talkers who tell you how they feel. In this case, he was sadly correct. I was ashamed, and all I could think to say was, "one of the unfortunate things about freedom, especially in America, is that it allows people to act really stupid."

Powerful words, I know. Words to make you stop and think. And though I will never be thankful that one of those empty chairs that day in Balad was for my husband, I will always be thankful that he was not forgotten.

Not forgetting who he was. Who those that have suffered and died are. That’s exactly what we talked about with the kids that morning sitting on the bed with the Bible open. We also talked about other’s, especially Andrea’s, willingness to serve Christ and tell Him, “Here I am, Lord, even in the midst of a bunch a circumstances I despise, ready to lay down my desires for Yours and still give You all the glory along the painful way.” Without ever personally speaking to Andrea, I know those were her heart’s words.

I have given lots of thought these past two and a half years since Troy died to what he would have liked to have happened after he was gone. I believe that is one of the ways I can honor him most. He would have loved the family devotion time we had on Memorial Day morning. Jim brought me breakfast in bed so I could spent some quiet time before the poignant day began. Troy would have done the same. He would have spent time with the kids, which we did. We took them to the movies and laughed. We came home and swam together. Troy was a good swimmer and loved to play in the water with the kids. We cooked burgers and hot dogs. Despite us packing out in a month to move, Jim re-hung the American flag whose brackets’ had been blown down in a storm months prior. It was a nice normal day. Troy would have wanted that for us.

The next morning we woke up and dressed the kids nicely, loaded them in the car and went to the courthouse. Before God, a courtroom full of people (we all didn’t fit in the judges chambers and also were on the docket with other folks – one in handcuffs- which made the whole thing somewhat of a field trip to our wide-eyed children), the lawyer and the judge, Jim raised his right hand and officially adopted all five of Troy’s precious children. As we explained to the kids the day prior during devotion, Jim has grasped the baton from Troy and continued running the race of taking care of his family on his behalf. Jim standing before God and saying, “Lord, here I am.”

Just a couple of days after that, Boston, ended up in the ER from passing out after a vaccination. He complained of his back hurting from how he fell so they stabilized him on the floor with a neckbrace and backboard to be transported to the nearest hospital in the effort to take all precautions necessary had there been spinal injury. Praise God his back is fine. He was scared though. More scared than I have ever seen him. I, along with his brothers, sisters and a team of medical staff were hovered over him, staring at him and waiting for the ambulance. Boston was crying softly. I am crying imagining the worst. Jim walks in, smiling, caring, assessing the situation, confident that everything was going to be fine and then all of the sudden just lays right down there on that hard hospital tile floor next to Boston so he didn’t feel so all alone. That thought never occurred to me. Something a dad would do, I guess. His presence there in that room and on that floor I could see put Boston a little more at ease. The nurse had Troy’s social security number so I had to explain that whole thing to her which made me cry even more. Praise the Lord for Jim stepping into the room that day and most of all stepping into our lives. I cannot think of any better ways for Jim to honor Troy’s memory on Memorial Day.

I have asked other widows and mothers who have lost their sons how they have remembered the lives of their lost loved ones with the things they now do. I found some real inspiration in their answers.

My friend, Roxanne, lost her husband, David, in his mid-forties, a couple of years ago. He died instantly of a sudden heart attack while driving and left her with 7 children. Her husband each year took the older kids on mission trips to Mexico to help build housing. Though Roxanne was way out of her element, just this Spring, she loaded up the next ones that he would have taken and they hammered their hearts out building houses in the heart of Mexico in honor of what he would have continued to do had he lived.

Patti, a fellow F-16 widow and author herself, lost her husband, Marc, over the waters of the Adriatic Sea years ago. She says her husband was “amusical” but desired for their children to have the exposure to music he never had. So she put all three of them in piano lessons. Her only daughter has not only won musical competitions now but has plans to make music her education and career. Her oldest son is now at the Air Force Academy, like his dad. And he just moved into his father’s former squadron to keep that family connection there alive, though he has few actual memories of his daddy. Patti, a health nut, says every year she takes the kids out for a greasy burger and milkshake, their dad’s favorites, to honor him in a fun way. But my favorite of all of Patti’s tributes is she has highlighted in blue in her Bible all the verses her husband had highlighted in his. As she reads, she is reminded on her husband’s passion for God’s Word. I am going to do that myself! Thank you Patti!

My friend, Debbie, lost her son, Marc, in Iraq. He was the first Navy Seal killed in the war. She now travels the country telling his heroic story and passionately speaks out for troop’s rights, just as her son would have wanted her to do.

Memorial Day is especially difficult for Troy’s parents, Kaye and Ron. They are proud yet they are so sad. This year, they first spent time with some good friends. How they met this couple has God’s fingerprints all over it. Right after Troy was killed, Kaye was at the Wal-Mart photo center making copies of pictures of Troy. She was utterly broken and bitter, justifiably so. She was hurting so badly she found it difficult to reach out to anyone as they simply could not have understand the level of her grief. The woman standing behind her that day, gently asked who Kaye was making pictures of. They began talking and this woman, Carol, told her she had lost her daughter as well. She now worked at Hospice and helped people in their grief. God sent Kaye powerful tangible evidence of His love for her that day at Wal-Mart when she needed it most. Now, years later, they played cards and cooked out on Memorial Day. Troy had specifically told me before he died how much his mom needed a good friend there in Wichita Falls. And not to mention, the only game I could ever get him to play was cards! That was fitting! Then on Memorial Day, Troy’s parents always attend a service at a military cemetery if they can’t be in Arlington. She talks with others who have lost loved ones, decades ago and recently. She hears from others all over the world who attend services where Troy’s name is mentioned and his heroism remembered. She says after speaking to others, she is again reminded of how very honored and lucky a woman she is to have had a son like that. To quote her own emailed words to me, “Never dreamed he would be a hero to this nation. Knew he was always my hero.”

Troy’s sister, Rhonda and her husband Shane were just blessed with the birth of precious twin baby boys. After many many years of infertility, Troy knew they longed for children. They came to visit us on Memorial Weekend. We got to hold those sweet babies, our nephews. Though Troy never got to meet them, I know he must have been smiling from above (maybe laughing too!) as Jim, after over twenty years of NOT holding a newborn, sheepishly first held his nephews. By the end Jim was a pro, carrying them both in his arms and singing lullabies into their tiny ears. They handed me the birth announcement, which took my breath away. A close up profile shot of the babies facing one another, hands entertwined, asleep. With their names written underneath “Landon Troy and Colton Lee”, named after the loving uncle they would never know . Shane purposely positioned them in the photo so that when their middle names were printed on the birth announcement it would prominently read “Troy Lee”. What a thoughtful tribute, Shane.

There are so many other stories. Ways those of us left behind, try to fill the big shoes of those who have gone Home.

I will keep the snowboard, hunting rifles and mountain bikes from getting too rusty and will make sure Troy’s sons know about the things he enjoyed. Just as Jim will continue to remind his sons of Andrea’s love of cooking and gardening and studying the Word. We do what we can. Most of all we will make sure they remember them by remembering the One they loved most.