It was a day or two before Thanksgiving and my husband Ted and I had to pick up a few last minute items at the grocery store.  All the lines were, of course, quite long, but we settled into one and waited patiently while observing other shoppers.  I mean – with Thanksgiving and all the frenzied Christmas shopping that starts with black Friday, you can either NOT shop or just relax and assume you will be standing in a line.  It wasn’t long before two women with their shopping cart pulled up behind us.  One woman angrily quipped, “Are you kidding me?  They only have four lanes open?”  Oh she did not sound happy.  With great angst and crabbiness, they settled into the lane and began unloading their groceries on the belt behind ours.  Now you know how those grocery belts work?  There is a sensor that, if blocked by one of your items on the belt, it will not move.  But when the cashier removes those front-of-the-line items, the sensor is free and the belt automatically moves groceries towards the cashier.  We had a package of Kings Hawaiian Rolls (Ted’s favorite) blocking the sensor and all of our other items had been scanned and bagged by the cashier.  Except for the rolls, there was about a two foot section of empty belt where the cashier had taken items but the belt had not moved because of the rolls blocking the sensor.  The lovely ladies behind us had temporarily run out of room for their groceries while the belt was stopped.  Angrily and impatiently, the more verbal of the two women yelled out, “Why isn’t this belt moving?”  I turned to her and nicely said, “Oh, I’m sorry.  My rolls are blocking the sensor.”  Ted said I should have told her that “… my husband’s buns are in the way”.

Why?

Why such impatience and anger?

The above scene is sadly replayed over and over again throughout December.  The props may change, but the anger and impatience are still there:   Drivers fighting over parking spots in crowded store parking lots, yelling curse words and making not-so-nice hand gestures while competing for a closer parking space.  Mobs of people charging a store for that new fancy ‘limited quantity’ item that they MUST have this year.  Families fighting over who gets to host dinner and livid when they can’t have it on the day they wanted.

In the midst of this most busy time of year, when everyone is shopping, baking, wrapping, addressing Christmas cards, decorating,  partying, spending too much, decking their halls, and trying to cram as much into Christmas as they can, I hope I can redirect your perspective.  You see, there is this family that is friends with Ted’s cousin.  The short story is this:  Ten year old Ryan (for privacy purposes – not his real name) had a heart transplant when he was a baby.  His heart is now failing.  Ryan has been in the hospital more than 3 months now.  He is very weak and his kidneys are failing.  I thought a lot about this family this morning.  Here we all are getting ready for the holidays, and this sweet family (mom, dad, and 2 sisters) are in constant attendance to young Ryan.  I wonder if they have done any Christmas shopping or even care about what kind of Christmas cookies to bake.  They are a strong Christian family.  I’m sure that all this family wants for Christmas is a new heart for Ryan.
As music is my inspiration and stimulation, the song ‘Breath of Heaven’ came to mind (and lips) this morning.  (See below for a video of this song, sung by Amy Grant.)  This song so perfectly captures the feelings that Jesus’ mother Mary must have had the night her son was born.  The lyrics are sung as though they are Mary’s thoughts and prayers.  “I am waiting in a silent prayer … frightened,” the words unfold as Mary asks, “Must I walk this path alone?”  Oh my, how alone she must have felt.  Who else in this world would have understood how she felt?  And in the fear, the darkness, the unknown, and the cold, the song continues with Mary asking God to be her “breath of heaven” and to “hold her together.”  Knowing and trusting in God, she offers “all I am … for the mercy of Your plan … help me be strong.”

So I was thinking …

I want to keep an emphasis on the word LIFE this holiday season.

Christmas is all about the birth of Jesus.  HIS birth and LIFE.  Our Messiah.  Some people may say ‘Happy Holidays’ but the CHRISTmas tree we put up, the CHRISTmas carols we sing, and the tradition of giving gifts in the way that the three wise men gave gifts to the baby Jesus … well it is all about Christ and Christmas folks.  For Christians, it meant the birth of our Savior.  If you don’t believe, please just wish us a “Merry Christmas” as I will wish you a Happy Hanukah or Happy Kwanza.

And the best gift of the season?  LIFE!  If you are alive, please enjoy the blessing of this day!  You may have woken up with aches and pains – if you weren’t feeling those anymore, well, you might be dead!  Each day we are alive is a gift from God.  Another day to be the best we can be, to accomplish something more, and to be with those we love.  I am certain that Ryan’s family wants as many days as possible with their son … hopefully days that become months and years.

LIFE is also the greatest thing missed this holiday season.  As I look at this photo taken just 5 Christmases ago, it is with great sadness that I recognize that FOUR of the people in the photo have left this life and are no longer with us.  Oh how I would give anything to have them back with us this Christmas.

And to those grouchy ladies at the grocery store (and anyone else out there who needs a good penguin slap) …

Be patient.  Be kind.  Be thankful that you can afford to buy your groceries.  Don’t worry about being late to where ever you are going.  Be aware that God has allowed you to be here and can celebrate the holidays.  Enjoy and savor moments with friends and family – this may be your last Christmas with them.  And don’t worry about getting or giving the biggest bestest gift – there are many who simply want to make their house or rent payment this month.  There are some who just want a heart for their son.

And to Ryan’s family – I simply keep you in my prayers.  Hold each other close.  There are others (like myself) who have been in your shoes – not exactly like your circumstance, but in a place where my heart is breaking, and I’m trusting God, and nothing else matters except my child’s life. You are not alone.  May God’s sweet breath from heaven breathe on you.  He will lighten your darkness and pour His holiness over you.  He will give you strength.  Remember that the new life of our Savior Jesus, born on Christmas day is the same one who gave his life on the cross so that we may have life everlasting with Him.

Life.

just Laurel

It’s time for just Laurel to pull herself up by the bootstraps.

That was my initial thought but then, I wasn’t sure what that meant!

So I looked it up, of course. 

This descriptive phrase refers to the imagined feat of lifting oneself off the ground by pulling on one’s bootstraps, or shoe laces.  Impossible!  But figuratively it means to improve your situation by your own efforts.

Ted and I are still reeling from both of us losing our fathers last fall.  Our ache from losing Amanda still throbs at times and now our hearts have more holes that hurt.  We find ourselves wallowing in depression sometimes and through the holidays we easily soothed that discomfort with food – ahh the best medicine!  But it’s a new year and I am making my way back to the gym while being more accountable for the food I consume – both quantity and quality. 

So …

I’m back to the gym and eating right to improve my physical self.  I’ve been trying to make a point of reading God’s word every day … and spending more time talking to Him.  I’ve also just redone my ‘just laurel’ web page.  I tweaked and updated the info and added a ‘photo’ page.  I think it’s okay to be sad at times – the losses wouldn’t hurt so much if they didn’t reflect the great love that is now missed.  I keep reminding myself that the people and actions of the past have shaped who I am – but I must press on to a future.

Let’s have my grandson Henry help illustrate this for us.  A few weeks ago I took this photo of Henry. 

Henry could roll back to tummy and back again.  He could pivot in circles.   But he couldn’t crawl forward.  He kept pushing backwards.  Poor little guy got himself backed up with his legs under the chair and then … he wasn’t able to go anywhere!  He was moving a lot but couldn’t go forward.  That’s rather how I’ve been feeling lately!  Busy but not going anywhere.  I’m happy to say that Henry has been striving harder every day and actually takes a few crawling steps forward now – in fact he isn’t even aware that he has moved forward.  But he keeps moving and the forward motion is happening.  Soon he will master it I’m sure.  And so will I.  If every day I try to eat better, if every day I try to get to the gym, if every day I reach for a future, I know I will reach my goals.  I’m not going to get myself stuck under the sofa!

Philippians 3:13-14 Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus

Many of you know that I drive to Grand Rapids once a week to spend the day with Henry.  Many of you also know that I love rainbows.  I can’t tell you how many rainbows I’ve seen while on my drive to see Henry.  And yes, I grab my phone to take a picture while I’m driving.  It’s very safe!  To me, a rainbow is God’s way of saying there’s hope and a future. 

So … I’m pulling up my boot straps.  Updated my website, working on getting this body in better shape, and trying to let the past strengthen me so that I can grab the future with purpose and joy!

Happy New Year everyone.

just Laurel

Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

per·spec·tive

a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view

I had eye issues last week.  I kept ‘seeing’ drips of water in my peripheral vision off to the left of my line of vision.  I was seeing a flash of what looked like a droplet of water that glistened as it caught the light and dripped downward.  Then I had this floating wispy hand that kept creeping in from the top left, obscuring my vision.  It was annoying.  Of course, at work where I am surrounded by eye surgeons, they immediately dilated my eye to look at my retina.  I loathe having my eyes dilated!  It is so annoying.  It is so hard to see things clearly and the lights ARE SO BRIGHT.  I was seeing things, literally, a bit differently.

So – what do you see in this classic drawing?  The old lady or the young woman?

We all have eyes, yet we can see things differently.

We all have minds that can see situations differently, too.

I have shared with you in the recent months about the passing of Ted’s mom, then our daughter Amanda, followed by my Pop, and most recently by Ted’s dad. 

Yes, we miss them.  Yes, we have holes in our aching hearts. 

But …

We also have faith.

For those without faith in Jesus, then death is really an end … it means life is over … there is a void and an emptiness that oozes of un-fulfillment and loss. 

With Ted’s dad’s death still fresh, we are still sorting out his house and belongings.  The other day Ted handed me his dad’s “At-a-Glance” planner for 2014 and asked, “Do we need to keep this?”  I glanced through it and read his various notations about doctor appointments, family birth dates to remember, and other simple notations.  I don’t know what made me look, but I decided to see what he might have noted on the day his wife passed away … and on the day Amanda passed away.  It hit me like a mighty wind and brought tears to my eyes …..

Wednesday, May 28:  Lois w/Jesus  12:00+ 

(She passed away shortly after noon)

Sunday, October 12:  0300 Amanda – healed

(Amanda passed away at 3am)

What a man of faith!  He kept the right perspective.  Although his loved ones were gone from this earthly life, they were healed and with Jesus. 

It’s all about perspective, folks.

just Laurel

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain”   Philippians 1:21

Hey – it’s me.  Just Laurel.  And I just want to apologize for not giving you any attention lately.  My last blog was the letter to my Pop that I read at his memorial service.  My Pop passed away on September the 4th.  I still can’t fathom it.  But – I should be up and writing more by now, right?  Ehhh …. On October 1st, my dear father-in-law was found in his home … he appeared to have been taking a nap and just kept going – straught into the arms of Jesus.  Another memorial service to plan.  Another hole in our hearts.  So we have been busy with Dad’s estate:  clearing out his belongings from the house, closing out accounts, getting the house ready to sell, etc.  On top of that, there is still ‘normal’ things of life to do:  our jobs, service at church, spending times with friends, enjoying the grandson, etc.  But Ted and I are doing fine.  I don’t know how people get through this (mourning stuff) without faith in God.  And I shall be freshening up the blog site and writing again soon.  In the meantime, there have been flashes of inspiration that I feel should be shared.  Today I want to share with you the awesome notes that people wrote about Ted’s dad.  It’s been a month since he’s passed and I think people will want to read these.  Ted’s dad, James (Jim) Greshel was very involved with ACCTS (Association for Christian Conferences, Teaching and Service).  Ted’s mom Lois was part of this mission work with Jim until she went home to be with Jesus in May of 2014.  The following, sent to Ted and his siblings, speaks for itself about their dad, Jim Greshel:

Last week we spent the first session at the ACCTS staff meeting in White Sulphur Springs. PA remembering your Dad (and Mom).   After the staff meeting, Bernhard and I flew to the ACCTS Board meeting in San Antonio, TX, where members of the board shared their memories of your folks as well. 

It is difficult to capture the spirit of our time of remembering them.  There was sadness at his and her parting, but fondness in the many recollections, appreciation for the great contribution they made to the ministry, and joy in the conviction that they are in the Presence of their Lord.  The words themselves may not convey the mixed feelings of loss and confident hope, but we thought you might enjoy reading some of the comments that were shared by the ACCTS staff, as well as some by our international partners.

Jim was a true servant for the Lord. He ministered in Korea, the Caribbean, and many other places, working tirelessly on the AMCF handbook, encouraging MCF leaders, and displaying a willingness to go – quite literally – anywhere in the world for God. His humility often concealed the amazing amount of time and attention to detail that he put into all of his work and ministry, and he showed a selfless dedication to prayer that should serve as an example for everyone who knows Jesus Christ.  Jim and Lois’ marriage was a living example of what marriage should be – he loved her faithfully and completely to the end.  In the story about the paralytic lowered through the roof, it says that Jesus “saw their faith”.  How can you “see” faith?  Jim showed us how through a life of witness in countless practical ways that continued right up until he went to be with his Savior.  He was always cheerful and showed a sacrificial love toward others. He was a friend, a brother, and an example. – Phil Exner, ACCTS Executive Director

Jim Greshel was a wonderful man of God. He consistently kept me informed on the progress on the AMCF manual, even up to his last day when he emailed me an update. – General Srilal Weerasooriya, Sri Lanka, AMCF World President

I’ve been in Jim’s home, we had him in our home, and earlier this year we ministered together in four islands. Jim and Lois were personal friends, but also friends to the military Christian fellowships in the Caribbean region, which he was responsible for. I had been trying to call Jim for several days until one day his son answered the phone and told us that he had passed on. When I went to his funeral, a lady I’d never met ran over to me and said, “Nestor! I am Terry, Jim’s daughter. We have your picture at our house and pray for you every day!”  – Nestor Ogilvie, Grenada, AMCF Vice President for North America

I miss Jim! Because of the distance, I had not too many chances to be with him, but he was an example of a good husband. Lois always helped as much as she could, too, and the way he treated her and honored her was touching. Both of them involved each other. I feel honored to have worked with him on the manual, which will be his legacy. – Gina  Rajah, ACCTS’ Brazilian staff member

I was in awe of Jim, since he had flown into hurricanes during his career. He helped take away my fear of flying after he told me that bumps on the plane were just like potholes on a road. He was calm-spirited, generous, and never angry. – Monsie Ogilvie, Barbados

Jim was an extremely faithful servant, hard-working, and helpful to MSO in so many ways. He was a humble man of God, and MSO sent a collection of remembrances of Jim collected from the many people in the Far East who knew and respected him. – General Yoon, MSO Executive Sectretary, South Korea

The last time I corresponded with Jim was just a few days before his death. He was such a gentle man, and a gentleman. He was always smiling. He was patient, kind, humble. He worked for the Lord to the very end. – Jos McCabe, MMI Executive Director, United Kingdom 

We were with Jim just a few weeks ago in Japan. He was such a vibrant man, and one of my heroes and will always be. We’d ministered with him at the World Conference in South Africa, in South Korea in June, in Japan, and he was scheduled to go to the Philippines and Vietnam with me. He’s my hero because he finished well. – Rick Ryles, Asia region staff member

Jim was incredibly generous to anyone he met, including ACCTS. One thing that was uniquely “Jim” – he never said “good-bye” on the phone. He just hung up, and the next conversation we had was just a continuation of the previous one! – Bernhard Kaltenbach, ACCTS Deputy Director

Lois endured lots of pain and so much difficulty, but she was always a trooper and wanted to be independent.  Jim was very caring and considerate of her and her disability. – Cheryl Kaltenbach, staff member

I was just with Jim at Mike Paterson’s farewell dinner at a military base in Portsmouth, England, held in early September. Jim also came over to Great Britain for the weekend, and stayed with Linda and me, Bernhard and Cheryl, at the home of Jos and Ruth McCabe.  Jim touched lives all over the world. He was someone to emulate, as he was always calm, cool, and collected. I will miss Jim very much. – Dick Barnes, Eastern Europe region staff member

Jim’s faithfulness stands out to me. I hear God saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” – Cal Dunlap, staff member and former director

Bette and I met Jim and Lois in Japan and incorporated them into a Bible study. They both attended the 1994 World Conference, then Jim went to Ukraine with ACCTS. He was so excited about Ukraine that he considered living there, but instead God used both of them around the world. – Dell McDonald, staff member and former Director of ACCTS.

Jim and Lois were very important members of our Interaction team. We will really miss them. – Bob Reifsnyder, ACCTS’ Latin America staff member

Jim helped us so much for our 2007 Interaction South West Pacific. His bright personality and commitment to the Lord had a great impact. – Russell Bielenberg, ACCTS’ Australian staff member

Both the Greshels came to Australia in 2007 and even with Lois’ arthritis, she helped and served as much as she could. Jim always cared for her.  – Helen Bielenberg, ACCTS’ Australian staff member

Jim, along with Dick and Linda Barnes, was a guest in our home during Interaction in the early 2000s.  He exuded joy in the Lord.   – Pete Prindle, ACCTS Director of Operations

Jim was such a dear man, and so devoted to his precious wife, Lois.  Rejoicing with him now that they are reunited!  However, his joyful spirit will certainly be missed.  – Doris Mincks, staff member

We miss Lois and now we miss Jim. What a godly couple, and so much fun to be with on Interactions and staff meetings. What a wonderful way to enter into the very presence of our God and Savior. – Jonie Snow, retired staff member

We are deeply saddened at the news of Jim’s death, what an exceptional soldier for the Lord. We will always remember him for his kindness, love and support over all these years. – Diane Louwrens, South Africa, Global Interaction coordinator.

We could not capture all of the comments that people made about your parents, but I hope that this reminder of the impact that they had in ACCTS will comfort you as you reflect on your own memories of this dear couple you called Mom and Dad.

I have no doubt that when Jim reached heaven, he was greeted with “well done, good and faithful servant.”

just Laurel

Dear Pop,

I’d so much rather talk to you in person, but Mesothelioma sucked the life out of you and stole you away too soon.  I’d love to see your face and hear your responses to my words, but this is going to have to be a one way conversation.  I pray these words find their way to you.

Although you are physically gone, please know that you are forever in my heart.  I mean, you’ve been around all my life … until now.  I am who I am today because of you, and I wanted you to know some of the things you taught me.

The era I grew up in was one where the dads went to work and the moms got us to school, did the cooking and cleaning, got us to cheerleading and play practice, and handled all the things of home.  Pop, you were always a hard worker and showed great responsibility to your occupation.  Thank you for teaching me good work ethics and the value of being responsible.

Although you worked hard, you always made time for hobbies and vacations.  From making model canons, gun collecting, rebuilding old Harley Davidson motorcycles, and carving wooden spoons, to all the fantastic knowledge you gained as you restored hundred year old oil lamps, your creativity and meticulous ability to restore things to new both amaze and inspire me.  In our house you were always able to fix whatever was broken.  You could take things apart and put them back together.  You became an expert on everything you put your hands to.  Through the years when we’d start talking about something, you astonished me every time how you could turn around and, without taking any time to search, pull the specific book off the vast shelf full of books that would answer the questions about what we were discussing.  Thank you for teaching me to be curious and inquisitive and to always search for knowledge.  Some of your projects took hours, if not days or weeks of work.  For all those hours we waited outside in the sweltering summer sun while you measured and made drawings of historical canons, I guess I thank you for teaching me patience.

Your sense of curiosity carried over to the way you played and vacationed.  There were never any structured tours for this family.  Oh no.  Whether it was the south eastern United States or a trip to Germany, you got out a map and we drove.  Although Fodor’s helped us with some of our destinations, you were also great at following that squiggly little line on the map to see where we’d end up.  Thank you for showing me that there is a whole world to explore and that the adventure includes the foods we find at our various destinations.  I’ll never forget that hot fishy smell created by the shrimp you bought off of the boats in Florida and cooked in the little kitchen of our scalding, humid, un air-conditioned little motel room.  In sharp contrast to that, I’ll never forget sitting on the hillside in Norway with the picturesque fjord below while we made lunch of a fresh baguette of bread, some reindeer salami, and the sweetest garden fresh carrots all purchased at the local farmers market just down the road.

Speaking of food, there were many different kinds that I have come to know, thanks to you.  You taught me that there is nothing better than homemade beef jerky, homemade root beer, hand cranked ice cream, hand pressed apple cider, and a can full of homemade caramel corn at Christmas.  I’ve also learned how delicious fried scrapple is and cornmeal mush too.  And okra must be fried with some cornmeal, and Prosciutto ham can never be sliced too thin.  And by the way, nothing tastes as good today as it did in the past.

Pop, I don’t recall many instances when you raised your voice and you were, in fact, fairly quiet at times.  When you did speak it was always meaningful, wise, or thoughtful.  Thank you for teaching me that there’s so much more to learn by listening.  Do you know, that the other day I was searching for something in the basement of your house and I was overwhelmed by all the lamps, guns, steam engines, tools, thingamabobs, and trunks full of stuff that you could give voice to.  You brought all those things to life by telling the story and the history of that object.  With you gone now, it’s as if you took the voice and life out of all those many things.  I was so sad.  The silence was deafening.

You know, Ted made a video of you with eighty seven years of photographs.  I want to tell you that I was struck at how most of those photos showed a man full of joy and with a big smile on his face.  You grabbed life and ran, didn’t you?  You were spontaneous and fearless as you embraced life with a passion.  I’ve also heard stories about you lately, because people miss you and want to share the memories.  Your niece, my cousin, Patrice told me, quote “Your Dad was a wonderful man.  One of the memories I have from the time when we lost my sister Mary Lee … he held my hand at the cemetery and I’ve always remembered that even though I was just 5 or so at the time.  He took care of me.”

Pop, thank you for taking care of me, and for teaching me patience, responsibility, and curiosity.  I hope life can continue to take me to new places, and with new foods to discover.  I want to greet each new day with enthusiasm and smiles.  I’m not happy about going on without you.  I will miss your wisdom, and your love, and your stories.  But if you could, maybe once in a while, if I could just feel your hand in mine. I know I’ll be okay.

I love you Pop.

Laurel

I guess I must start this blog with an update from my previous one. My Pop passed away on September the 4^th after being diagnosed with Mesothelioma just three weeks prior. In hindsight, I believe he was battling this disease as much as three years ago when his frustrations of being tired kept coming up without a diagnosis. As Pop went to doctor after doctor with growing complaints of fatigue, nausea, weight loss, lack of energy, and loss of appetite, the Meso continued to suck the life out of him. He finally had a biopsy that came back positive for the Meso. The path from diagnosis to death was 3 weeks. Mesothelioma is such a cruel and mean disease with its vague symptoms that creep in and wreak havoc to one’s whole body.

So here I am still raw with Amanda’s passing not even a year ago, and now my father. <<sigh>> Now I know that losing a loved one is not a unique thing to happen to me. I know so many of you out there who have lost a spouse, child, or other loved one. But it’s fairly new to me, and of course I need to share my feelings. May they help you – and feel free to share back.

But the other day … and you all know how there are good days and bad days … but it was a sorta sad day and I was missing Amanda … and missing my Pop. Here was my aching heart with two gaping holes in it and I was struck by how something so full of holes can
feel
so
heavy.
Oh my, what a feeling of emptiness in my heart, yet weighted down with so much sorrow that it’s hard to keep walking … hard to keep your chin up. How can holes feel so very very heavy?

I tried to think of other things that are heavy, while full of holes. Let me know if you can think of any.

But I started to think of this:

I have a friend at my work that is from Sri Lanka. We love to talk food! A couple of months ago, she brought me a plastic container with some ‘Sri Lanka’ sandwiches in it that she had made. The filling layers were made of roasted red mashed beets and carrots. They were beautiful to look at and delicious too. Now I do not like giving empty containers back to people. I like returning them with a treat. I put together a batch of Cherry Coconut Almond Granola and returned the container to her, full of the crunchy sweet treat. Several weeks later, she gave me the container back again – this time with 2 kinds of cupcakes in it that she had baked. Now this past Saturday, my daughter Kristen was in town and since we both like to bake, we made some zucchini bread and some pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. The container was filled with these sweets and returned again to my friend. The same empty container has fused a friendship and given us great pleasure as we fill it and pass it back and forth.

I figure a grieving heart is rather like my empty plastic container. The container is no good unless it has something in it. Sometimes, I have to wait more days or weeks for it to come back my way, but every time my friend fills it with a treat for me, it makes me smile and the container begs me to give back. Such it is with an empty heart. As I hear stories about Amanda, and stories about my Pop, they are like sweet treats to my heart. The stories and memories fill the holes and are like a sweet balm to a hollow heart. And when I give back – THAT is the part that helps with making my heart less heavy.

just Laurel

Forgive me for not writing in such a long time. I wrote feverishly (before and)after Amanda’s death … and then all inspiration for writing dried up. I’ve been in a wasteland. I suppose a writer would call it “writer’s block.” But for me, it was more like a desert. I used to always seek God first to give me what it was I should write about. Amanda and her life and actions were many times the spark that ignited a new story. Since her death, the hole that her absence has left behind has made me feel … empty … hollow … incomplete … and living life as if I were wandering aimlessly in a dry barren desert. I’ve prayed to God to find my way back to Him. However, He is still there and I have not left His presence. But considering that Amanda was part of my life for 31 of my 56 years means her loss took a great chunk out of me. Ted and I have continued with our jobs, church activities, and leisure time with friends, family, and activities to try to put the pain of our loss behind us – and to show the world (I suppose) that we are strong enough to keep plodding forward. Life goes on, we say, and so do Ted and Laurel. I have heard that the second year after one weathers the death of a loved one can be even more difficult. Oh my.

So not even a year has gone by since Amanda passed and I find myself getting ready to say a final farewell to my father – or Pop as he has always been to me. The details are not necessary for me to share, but a cancer caused by asbestos is right now sucking the life out of him. As my heart aches and the tears fall, I am frightened by what hole will be left behind by this loss when the loss of Amanda is still ringing hollow and void.

I have always loved rainbows. They are amazing. How spectacular to see a bow of color across the sky! God put the rainbow in the sky as a sign of the covenant he made with Noah and all mankind that he would never send a flood to destroy all living things – ever again. After surviving that long journey on that stinking crowded ark, I’m sure that the rainbow was a beautiful sign from God that promised new life, new hope, and a future. Whenever there is a storm, you can ask Ted to confirm this, but I will always look for the rainbow. As I currently still struggle with my ‘Amanda void’ and face as well the passing of my Pop, I was almost frantic yesterday when it stormed. It was late afternoon and the eastern sky was dark, and the sun beamed brightly from the west. Perfect rainbow conditions! I grabbed an umbrella and went out through the garage. Ted was puzzled at my dash outside and wondered where I was going. I told him I had to see the rainbow. I am not one to neither wallow in sadness nor be ‘stuck’ in the past. I want to keep pressing forward, to look for more, and to look beyond. Standing pitifully in my driveway with tears streaming down my face as furiously as the raindrops were falling, I saw a rainbow … and I just stared and sobbed. No matter what happens in life, God is always there. He is always in control. He is always there to be our strength and to help us through the desert. I had to see that rainbow – I KNEW it would be there. It was a promise to me that there is a tomorrow.

Ted snapped a photo of me with my umbrella in the driveway. Not my best shot, but I had to share it with you. Such an anguished and tear stained face … but my faith in God stills burns bright and I needed that rainbow. It gave me the promise of hope and a tomorrow – no matter what happens.

just Laurel