The Wardrobe By Ginger

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

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.