Morning Glories or Morning Grace?

I went out back today to experience the calm after the storm from last night. After witnessing these gorgeous Morning Glories, I had to go back inside to get my camera. I just stood there in awe. Not only the beauty of what stood in front of me but what it represented as well. 

I have a difficult weekend ahead of me as I head back to Ohio to finish going through my dads stuff and get his house ready for market. 

The past week has been trying.  So many emotions.  So many words left unsaid.  So broken yet grateful.

Each day brings me additional hope that I thought was exhausted. These delicate flowers that only reveal their beauty before the sun makes it peak, reminds me that His mercies truly are new each morning as well.

Two months ago, I realized that I had 3 seeds left. I decided to plant them around this lantern bird seeder in hopes that it would wind itself around the pole and pop some flowers. 

Do you see what I see?  The vine has flourished - not only encompassing the bird feeder but extending over the other bushes as well. But it was the thing on the right that made me giggle. That ridiculous city meter that is such an eye sore. 

God allowed this incredible vine of grace and loveliness to surround and nearly hid the ugliness of this object.

He's done that in my life as well. Even when I haven't asked.  When I surrender the most intimate part of my soul to my Creator, He takes it and does things with it that are beyond my comprehension.  He shows me that even in the midst of the hurt, guilt and sadness, He is still God and the flowers will still bloom.

This city meter will never go away.  Ever.  But that doesn't mean that it can't be beautified in some fashion.

My dad is is walking with my Heavenly Father instead of sitting on my couch right now.  But that doesn't mean I can't rejoice in his pain-free life and trust in the goodness of my God.

God is good.  All the time.  All the time.  God is good!

Oh, I forgot to mention .... Morning Glories are my dads favorite flowers ;)

In the Sun or Rain

9 weeks

I knew it had been a lengthy time but it wasn't until I got out the calendar and counted the weeks this morning that I realized how long it had truly been.

Nine weeks since I was able to walk through my church doors and actually attend an entire service.

I tried to attend on Easter Sunday.  That was only a week after I had returned home from my daddy's funeral service.  I was a wreck the moment I walked in and finally called it quits and drove home after a few songs.  Too fresh.  Too new.  Way too raw.

It's been hard being in a public setting with my emotions so out of control.  But since my son got married a few days ago (that's another blog!), my daughter is home from Colorado and I thought attending church with her was the right thing to do.

What I experienced was actually quite surprising.  It honestly was refreshing and renewing. I met God there.  He held my hand as I walked through the crowds of people and hugged the ones who met my eyes.  I called His name and He heard me.  A sweet friend messaged me the day of my dad's service and said, 'just whisper the name of Jesus and His presence will carry you through this time.' That's what I did and continue to do on a daily basis.  I tremble and then whisper the name Jesus.  He has never failed to bring me a sense of security and comfort at the sheer utter of His name.   

After Sunday School today, I entered the sanctuary.  I tried to swallow the lump.  I tried to maintain control.  There's makeup, eyelashes and snot that appear in an ugly, magnified manner when the opposite happens!  The notes rang from the musical instruments and the voices began to sing.  Worship had begun.  And then the oddest thing happened.  The songs that I have sung for years and years had new meaning.  Like it was the first time I had ever heard the song.  Words pierced my heart this time.  6 months ago, they were just lyrics that I had memorized.

'In the sun or rain, my life celebrates.  You are good. You are good.'

You can't sing that if you don't believe it.  I stared at the screen before my mouth would open.  Then with complete confidence and a straight spine, I sang the words that I know that I know that I know are true.  He IS good.  All the time.  I know this, Lord, I truly know this.

Like myself, so many of you have an aching hole in your heart from the death of a precious soul that was a part of your life.

Whether it was last week, 5 months ago or 10 years ago, that void is still there.  Does time really heal?  I think that depends on your definition of healing.  I listened to a live interview today in church of a veteran who talked about receiving the news that his brother was shot down at 18 years old after enlisting to fight in WW II.  This elderly man wept as he told this 60+ year old story.

Why?  Because the void is still there.

Please know that if you smiled at me today, chatted with me or even hugged me .... thank you.  You played a huge role in the healing process for a broken child of the King.

And can I encourage you that when the floodgates begin to open and your tears flow without any pre-warning, just whisper the name Jesus.  I promise you - He will hear you and His peace WILL compass you!

Except This Time

My keyboard is once again feeling the weight of my fingertips.  I started this blog in 2010 but haven't written a thing for the past 5 years so why start back up now? My blogging adventure has been beckoning me for at least 2 years now. But I just can't seem to find the needed quite time to focus on what my heart wants to print.

It's here now.  And way overdue. Journaling is my way of sharing my heart when words just won't form and be released from my lips.

Why write?  I'm not quite sure other than I feel a part of me is missing. There's a gap that can't quite be filled with activities or the spoken word.  Only the written word.  It's healing.  Therapeutic.  And forgiving. I need all of those things in my life right now.

My heart hurts like I've never experienced before. My gut throbs nearly every hour.  Eating and swallowing seems to be an unnecessary chore. My cognitive skills are quite lacking.  Sentences are hard to finish. My physical ailments are not due to a sickness but rather a broken heart.  My precious daddy decided to live in Heaven on April 4th.

I had just visited him two weeks before this - we had a wonderful time together.  Ate Cassano's pizza, played Sequence, watched movies, sat on the swing and laughed at each others sarcastic jokes!  I was only home 5 days before I was to take off again on a free cruise that I had won with my company.  I talked to my dad just hours before I flew out.  I knew he was sick with an awful cold but he said he would be fine in a few days.   Dad was a tank - he always recovered.  He has cheated death over and over ... he always won.

Except this time.

A neighbor asked him to go to the motorcycle shop with him on Sunday afternoon but my dad said he didn't feel well and to give him a few days to recover.  I believe he met Jesus that night.  He got up in the middle of the night or early Monday morning and had his final heart attack (making it his 4th one).  I received the phone call from the police while standing in a food line by myself at the Tampa airport.

I don't believe I have ever cried that violently before in my life.  I remember thinking that I was going to faint as I starting running back to where my husband was.  Screaming, shaking, sobbing then the numbness.   I'm so thankful my husband was there with me.


Death has a way of catapulting reality back into the frontal lobe of a persons brain.  A place we wish residence did not make a home. Uncontrollable emotions that surface whether we are ready to face them or not.

I'm not sure what stage of grief I am currently in.  It varies from hour to hour.  I have a business to run.  A house to keep up.  A family to tend to.  Life that continues forward whether I join in or not.  One minute I am laughing and enjoying my family.  15 minutes later, I'm on the floor gasping for air.  4 days after we arrived back home, it was my birthday. I attempted to call my daddy because I just knew he must have forgotten.  Goodness, I loved this man!

I am sorry if I haven't returned your phone call.  Sometimes talking is just too volatile.  I'm sorry that I haven't come back to church yet. Being around people who know my heart is just too hard right now. If I have missed an appointment, please forgive me. If I cry when you ask me how I want my package mailed, just bear with me. If you know someone who has lost a dear family member, extend grace and please pray for them.

I know God called you home, daddy. I trust Him and His perfect plan. Why wouldn't He want your contagious smile and belly-laugh?

Sometimes it's hard to breathe without you. Thank you for being my daddy. Thank you for loving me and always being proud of anything I did. Thank you for the 6 voice mails that I was able to recover so I can hear your voice again whenever I want. Thank you for your humor. Thank you for giving us 73 years of your jolly self.

Enjoy your days in Heaven with my two brothers .... until I see you again,

Your little girl