Some years go by, and you barely remember much of what happened. Some are so monumental that they're forever ingrained on your mind. Some go quickly, and some go slowly. Some seem particularly negative, and some are clearly positive.
This year wasn't like "some" other year. It was monumental, but I lose most of the small things that happened in the shadow cast by the large things that happened. It seems to have been slow and tedious, but when I really consider it, it was so quick. And I look at what happened and see both positive and negative. This year had no either/or; it had no this or that. It was a bit of everything on both sides of the spectrum.
It was monumental for a few reasons. Leroy, my youth leader and greatest example for how to live a Godly life, died a year ago today in a sudden car accident. He happened to take a different route home from work that day and a tractor trailer came (for no known reason) across the median and killed him in an instant. Of course, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt or shoes, which was his custom, but it wouldn't have mattered. A tractor trailer going 75 mph into the front of your car cannot turn out well.
I remember the big moments of it all. My best friend and his neice, Chelcee, called to tell me. I remember the silent sobbing I heard as I said "hello?" I remember her words, "Bub's gone." I remember the shattering of my heart and the instant numbness. I remember praying with my parents and pleading God to revive him, to somehow tell me that it had been just a chance for God to manifest himself and perform a miracle. I couldn't imagine the world without him. I remember sitting in the church making the collages for his memorial, cutting out pictures of him and his wife, children, family, and youth group. It hadn't sunk in at all. I remember going into the church gym and sitting at the tables at which he taught us so many lessons. I silently asked Leroy to come back and teach me some more. I wasn't ready to stand on my own.
And those few days are where I refuse to remember anymore. I just cut out the details, because I can't sit around weeping everyday, because I know if I remembered, then that is simply all I could do. The year was a blur, because I just don't want to experience it again in memory. It's like that near-drunken state after a death that numbs you to experience. Yet, I went on, in that numb state and changed quite a bit. I decided to drop my thoughts of being a counselor to pursue my first love, music. I transferred schools. I renewed my relationship with God. The years before he died, I had been at a standstill spiritually. I still cringe at the thought that he didn't see any growth in me for so long and that he never will. He invested so much in my life that he deserves that much from me. I couldn't ever honor his memory if I did not follow God.
The year went quickly in the sense that it feels like it literally happened yesterday. Writing this, here in my dorm room, I'm struggling to get rid of the lump in my throat and the tears nearly spilling when I think about him. The ache and the shock and the sorrow are still so strong that I can barely breathe. The year has gone so quickly that it seems like minutes since it happened. But on the other hand, the growth personally and in our church is so immense that the year had to have gone slowly to have facilitated it. That kind of transformation is not quick let alone instantaneous. So, yes, it has been a full year.
It was also both positive and negative. The negative aspect is clear. It's tragic and heartbreaking, something none of us will ever get over in this lifetime. But it has woken a lot of people up, including myself. It was helped us grow closer to one other and have greater empathy and compassion. It has made us rely fully on God, because without Him, none of us would have survived this. Honestly, it's a miracle of God that we did. In the moment, it was not a struggle I thought we could overcome.
So, why do I write this sad, downer of a post? Well, I didn't mention the significance of the day to anyone here. I didn't think they would understand how great a loss it really is. "Oh, your youth leader died? That sucks." What they don't get is that he was like a father to me, to all of us. I just couldn't go another second without acknowledging the day. It feels wrong not to honor his memory. His wife gave me one of his t-shirts that he wore all the time. She told me to wear it, but I just haven't been able to do it. It felt sacreligious, like I was defacing a sacred garment. And for the longest time it smelled like he used to, and I didn't want to get rid of that sensory memory. But today, I wore it. It no longer smelled like him, but strangely enough, I felt very close to him. I thought people might think that was weird. I almost do, but then I think of him as my father, and I feel like it's normal. I honored the day in my own, silent way.
He was the greatest man I have ever met. He did more in 43 short years then most people even dream about doing in 90. He was Godly and righteous. It makes me think of a scripture I read shortly after it happened that comforted me immensely.
"Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. But no one seems to care or wonder why. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come. For those who follow godly paths will rest in peace when they die." - Isaiah 57: 1-2
It's good to know that he's resting with God. I have peace about that, a peace I never had with my brother's death. The peace of knowing that Leroy is where he belongs, with God and is safe from the suffering of this earth. What a reunion we will have in eternity! I long for that day!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
"Stir carefully through the days. See how the flavor stays. These are the dreams you'll savor. Memories are made of this."
Well, hello there blogging world. I intended many more posts over the break, but I suppose I got sidetracked a bit. Life happens!
This has been an emotional break for many reasons. I've never been away a from home for that long before. I've been in college for two and a half years, but the first two were at a college a few blocks away from my house. Now, I'm a long drive away in Illinois, 12 or so hours from my home in Pennsylvania. I didn't anticipate the homesickness at all. In fact, I was quite excited to be an "adult" (yea, right) for a while. I quickly learned that walking away from a place in which you experienced every year of your life is not so easy.
I miss the little things the most. I miss my puppy, Shya, greeting me at the door with eyes that told me she never thought I'd come home and that she was very glad to see she had been wrong. Nobody greets you quite like a dog. I miss crawling onto my parents' big, comfy waterbed and laying with my mom before bedtime (yes, I do this as a 20 year old; these are things I know I'll miss very much someday, and I must take advantage of them). I miss the smell of our special laundry detergent that doesn't ever smell the same anywhere but at home. I miss buttering up my daddy until he'll give me a kiss on the cheek. I miss laying on the radiator when the furnace is on, and cuddling with an afghan my mother crocheted. I miss my favorite food...toast. I didn't know until right before break that you can actually make toast in the dining commons. Ah, but not the same when your mom hasn't cut it into shapes for you.
I miss walking around town late at night to a park a few miles away and singing by the river. I miss drinking coffee and reading in the coffeeshop near my house. I miss exploring the hidden treasure that is Yesterday's Best, a small, tightly packed bookstore downtown and finding wonderful surprises. I miss visiting my mom at work in the hospital and feeling powerful for knowing the codes to get into the "special" rooms. I miss walking back from school and seeing everything in its place like every other day and basking in the consistency, something which never seems to carry over to other areas of life.
I miss my church. I miss this the most, I think. It's my home and my safe place. I miss the rolling green fields it sits on and the beautiful trees that surround it. I miss the playground that grew up in and in which I became forever friends with my "sister" Chelcee. I miss the river that runs right through it all and the picteresque bridge that crosses between the playground and everything else. I miss the gym where I played for hours and the library where I met Jesus at three. I miss the kitchen I washed many dishes in and the tables I've dirtied with countless crafts. I miss the balcony and upper room where I've had sleepovers and from which I've watched concerts. I miss the stage I sing on and the costumes that I wear for coffeehouses, whether I'm a clown or a rock star or a Bible character. I even miss the bathrooms I clean every Saturday. But most of all I miss the memories.
I miss my youth group and our crazy (and sometimes violent) game nights. I miss surprise hug attacks from Chelcee. I miss hugs from my 5 year old best friend, Lael, who holds on to me with such desperation and hunger for affection that I wish I would never have to let her go ( I had to say goodbye to her today; she cried and I cried and I think we're both still crying right now). I miss nights at dance troupe when my friend Leighton comes up with the funniest moves that we could never in a million years do just like her. I miss youth trips in the Chateau (our endearing nickname for the clunker van we travel in) and wondering if its actually safe to be riding in. The oil covered back windows point to "no". I miss nights around the camefire and listening to Leighton singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" like a crazy person.
I miss old times and people who have exited my life on Earth (eternity shall be a glorious reunion!). I miss a man who has impacted my life more than any other person. One who has been my father, my teacher, my cheerleader, and my co-star, among many other things. I look at every inch of my beloved church, and I see something he taught me there or a joke that I remember rolling on the floor laughing about or a word of encouragement he gave me. It was easy to run away to school, because I didn't have to see him everywhere there. I remember the day after he passed (a year ago this Wednesday), sitting against a post at the back of the gym with the chairs, the stage, and every memory staring back at me. Between the thoughts of disbelief and my refusal to accept what had transpired, I found time to realize that I could never walk into this place and not notice the extreme lack that came from the loss. The heart of our church body, Leroy's presence was so very vital, and it's loss is indescribable. I miss him every second, as does everyone else in our church, especially his wife, four daughters, his parents, three sisters, two nephews, 4 nieces and countless other people that he welcomed into his family. I miss life with him in it.
From all that I miss, I learn to appreciate my life and not simply my present or future but also, my past. I am humbled by the people and memories that I hold close. Many times I get bogged down by the weight of negativety that has marked my past, but in reflection I realize that there was beauty in it all. Many times I get caught in my loneliness, crying foul at loss and lack, forgetting to recognize what I do have and haven't lost. I have wonderful parents that even in the many trials they have faced still care for me and provide for me. I have a church family that again, humbles me with their genorosity and love and encouragment that they offer to me, someone who is so undeserving. I look at them and see that I have at least 5 sets of parents, dozens of siblings, and an amazing assortment of mentors who lead me in their wisdom. I get so down about having a very tumultuous and rather small natural family, but then I realize how blessed I am to have this church body behind me every step of the way. I am brought to tears and will miss them incredibly.
It's emotional, because I realize that this is the beginning of a forever kind of change. I don't know where I will be in a few years or what I will be. I don't know if I'll be a musician or a cashier or both. I don't know if I'll be finding an apartment in Illinois or moving in to one with my best friend back in Pennsylvania or doing something different in some other state. I just don't know, and it's exciting and sad and painful and joyous all at the same time. Not to mention terrifying! But I cherish every memory, good and bad. It all comes together to make me who I am, whether you see that as good or bad or in between. All I know is that missing brings tears of sadness but also happiness. We miss times gone by and that makes us sad, but it's a joyous thing to be able to remember and relive those times.
2 Peter 1: 12-16
"12 So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. 13 I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,14 because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. 15 And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things. 16 We did not follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
Every memory is a testament to the majesty of Jesus. I am reminded of His glory, power, and love through every thing I find myself looking back on and missing while away. So, while change is crazy and sad and exciting and scary, I will always have the memories of my past to remind me of life's beauty and God's magnificence. Every second we live, we are "eyewitnesses of his majesty." Wow!
This has been an emotional break for many reasons. I've never been away a from home for that long before. I've been in college for two and a half years, but the first two were at a college a few blocks away from my house. Now, I'm a long drive away in Illinois, 12 or so hours from my home in Pennsylvania. I didn't anticipate the homesickness at all. In fact, I was quite excited to be an "adult" (yea, right) for a while. I quickly learned that walking away from a place in which you experienced every year of your life is not so easy.
I miss the little things the most. I miss my puppy, Shya, greeting me at the door with eyes that told me she never thought I'd come home and that she was very glad to see she had been wrong. Nobody greets you quite like a dog. I miss crawling onto my parents' big, comfy waterbed and laying with my mom before bedtime (yes, I do this as a 20 year old; these are things I know I'll miss very much someday, and I must take advantage of them). I miss the smell of our special laundry detergent that doesn't ever smell the same anywhere but at home. I miss buttering up my daddy until he'll give me a kiss on the cheek. I miss laying on the radiator when the furnace is on, and cuddling with an afghan my mother crocheted. I miss my favorite food...toast. I didn't know until right before break that you can actually make toast in the dining commons. Ah, but not the same when your mom hasn't cut it into shapes for you.
I miss walking around town late at night to a park a few miles away and singing by the river. I miss drinking coffee and reading in the coffeeshop near my house. I miss exploring the hidden treasure that is Yesterday's Best, a small, tightly packed bookstore downtown and finding wonderful surprises. I miss visiting my mom at work in the hospital and feeling powerful for knowing the codes to get into the "special" rooms. I miss walking back from school and seeing everything in its place like every other day and basking in the consistency, something which never seems to carry over to other areas of life.
I miss my church. I miss this the most, I think. It's my home and my safe place. I miss the rolling green fields it sits on and the beautiful trees that surround it. I miss the playground that grew up in and in which I became forever friends with my "sister" Chelcee. I miss the river that runs right through it all and the picteresque bridge that crosses between the playground and everything else. I miss the gym where I played for hours and the library where I met Jesus at three. I miss the kitchen I washed many dishes in and the tables I've dirtied with countless crafts. I miss the balcony and upper room where I've had sleepovers and from which I've watched concerts. I miss the stage I sing on and the costumes that I wear for coffeehouses, whether I'm a clown or a rock star or a Bible character. I even miss the bathrooms I clean every Saturday. But most of all I miss the memories.
I miss my youth group and our crazy (and sometimes violent) game nights. I miss surprise hug attacks from Chelcee. I miss hugs from my 5 year old best friend, Lael, who holds on to me with such desperation and hunger for affection that I wish I would never have to let her go ( I had to say goodbye to her today; she cried and I cried and I think we're both still crying right now). I miss nights at dance troupe when my friend Leighton comes up with the funniest moves that we could never in a million years do just like her. I miss youth trips in the Chateau (our endearing nickname for the clunker van we travel in) and wondering if its actually safe to be riding in. The oil covered back windows point to "no". I miss nights around the camefire and listening to Leighton singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" like a crazy person.
I miss old times and people who have exited my life on Earth (eternity shall be a glorious reunion!). I miss a man who has impacted my life more than any other person. One who has been my father, my teacher, my cheerleader, and my co-star, among many other things. I look at every inch of my beloved church, and I see something he taught me there or a joke that I remember rolling on the floor laughing about or a word of encouragement he gave me. It was easy to run away to school, because I didn't have to see him everywhere there. I remember the day after he passed (a year ago this Wednesday), sitting against a post at the back of the gym with the chairs, the stage, and every memory staring back at me. Between the thoughts of disbelief and my refusal to accept what had transpired, I found time to realize that I could never walk into this place and not notice the extreme lack that came from the loss. The heart of our church body, Leroy's presence was so very vital, and it's loss is indescribable. I miss him every second, as does everyone else in our church, especially his wife, four daughters, his parents, three sisters, two nephews, 4 nieces and countless other people that he welcomed into his family. I miss life with him in it.
From all that I miss, I learn to appreciate my life and not simply my present or future but also, my past. I am humbled by the people and memories that I hold close. Many times I get bogged down by the weight of negativety that has marked my past, but in reflection I realize that there was beauty in it all. Many times I get caught in my loneliness, crying foul at loss and lack, forgetting to recognize what I do have and haven't lost. I have wonderful parents that even in the many trials they have faced still care for me and provide for me. I have a church family that again, humbles me with their genorosity and love and encouragment that they offer to me, someone who is so undeserving. I look at them and see that I have at least 5 sets of parents, dozens of siblings, and an amazing assortment of mentors who lead me in their wisdom. I get so down about having a very tumultuous and rather small natural family, but then I realize how blessed I am to have this church body behind me every step of the way. I am brought to tears and will miss them incredibly.
It's emotional, because I realize that this is the beginning of a forever kind of change. I don't know where I will be in a few years or what I will be. I don't know if I'll be a musician or a cashier or both. I don't know if I'll be finding an apartment in Illinois or moving in to one with my best friend back in Pennsylvania or doing something different in some other state. I just don't know, and it's exciting and sad and painful and joyous all at the same time. Not to mention terrifying! But I cherish every memory, good and bad. It all comes together to make me who I am, whether you see that as good or bad or in between. All I know is that missing brings tears of sadness but also happiness. We miss times gone by and that makes us sad, but it's a joyous thing to be able to remember and relive those times.
2 Peter 1: 12-16
"12 So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. 13 I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body,14 because I know that I will soon put it aside, as our Lord Jesus Christ has made clear to me. 15 And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things. 16 We did not follow cleverly invented stories when we told you about the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty."
Every memory is a testament to the majesty of Jesus. I am reminded of His glory, power, and love through every thing I find myself looking back on and missing while away. So, while change is crazy and sad and exciting and scary, I will always have the memories of my past to remind me of life's beauty and God's magnificence. Every second we live, we are "eyewitnesses of his majesty." Wow!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
It All Starts with God
I haven't had a chance to blog in awhile, mostly, because life just gets in the way. I'm starting a study called The Purpose Driven Life. While I've been away at college, my church has completed it, and I decided I ought to catch up. It's 40 days of figuring out the meaning of life. Wow! I'm sure excited for that! I plan to write a blog post about what I glean from each day's reading. I find that it's easier to understand and ingrain material into the brain if you write down what you've learned from it. Today is Day One. Section one is called "What on Earth am I Here for?" Chapter one has the same title as my blog post, as will all blog posts throughout the study.
Day One: It All Starts with God
It isn't about me.
I love to take possession of things. Maybe it's the American materialism in me or maybe it's just human nature, but I love to claim things that I want, to hold them tight to myself, and to use them for my own purposes. It's my life. It's my future. It's my decision. The problem with that mentality is that it stifles any other input. It's like a child with a new toy. He or she enjoys it until someone else tries to give suggestions on how to use it. Does it matter that the other child might have a great idea of how it could be used? No. Does this child think about the fact that he or she might not know everything about it? No. Of course not. To that child, the toy is their own and nobody elses'. We don't fault a child for that, because they don't quite understand the concept yet. But what about us? What about me?
I have always seen my life as my own. I haven't had anyone tell me any different. Even as a Christian for as long as I can remember, I have never quite grasped the idea that I am not my own and that my life is not my own. God is a part of my life, sure, but it was never as if He was the director of my life. After all, we have free will, right? Well, I've been thinking of it incorrectly. Yes, we have free will; however, maybe that free will is to be used to give up the reigns and let God have his way and not to call the shots. God gave us freedom so that we would choose Him and not our own path. He has had our lives planned since before we were even thoughts in our parents' heads. Clearly, He doesn't need us to tell Him what our purpose is, because He had it ready before we existed.
That purpose? That grand plan for our lives? It's bigger than us and our desires. God's plan for our lives is beyond anything we can imagine, and despite our smallness in the scheme of things, our plans affect this world more than we will ever see. We spend so much time planning our moves like they're only affecting us. Wake up call! We affect more than ourselves. It isn't just about our little lives. Of course, each of us matters to God, down to the number of hairs on our heads, but our purpose goes far above our own existence. I need to understand that it isn't about me. The decision to let God lead me doesn't just affect me, and it isn't just about making my life enjoyable for me. It's all about God and what He wants to use me to do for others.
So, how do we know what our purpose is? People spend their entire lives searching, and many give up, because they never feel that they've found the meaning of their lives. Well, the short answer is God. Now, I'm not saying that you say a simple prayer and read a scripture, and God will reveal your future to you. It doesn't work that way in my experience.
But think about it. Let's say you got some nifty contraption for Christmas this year. You have no idea what it's used for or how to use it. Do you mess with it yourself, potentially breaking it or using it much below its potential? Or do you consult the instruction manual, written by the creator who knows every subtle nuance of the machine? The same goes for our lives. We didn't create ourselves, and we have no idea how to correctly reach our full potential. When we try to figure it out alone, we just make a mess of things. It's only when we consult our Creator, God, that we figure out our purpose. And that means letting Him lead us through prayer, fellowship with others who will encourage us in our walks, and meditation on His word, which is our very own instruction manual.
It's isn't about me or you or any individual. Our purpose goes beyond us, it affects more than us, and it can only be found in relationship with our Creator. Find Him, and you will find your purpose.
Day One: It All Starts with God
It isn't about me.
I love to take possession of things. Maybe it's the American materialism in me or maybe it's just human nature, but I love to claim things that I want, to hold them tight to myself, and to use them for my own purposes. It's my life. It's my future. It's my decision. The problem with that mentality is that it stifles any other input. It's like a child with a new toy. He or she enjoys it until someone else tries to give suggestions on how to use it. Does it matter that the other child might have a great idea of how it could be used? No. Does this child think about the fact that he or she might not know everything about it? No. Of course not. To that child, the toy is their own and nobody elses'. We don't fault a child for that, because they don't quite understand the concept yet. But what about us? What about me?
I have always seen my life as my own. I haven't had anyone tell me any different. Even as a Christian for as long as I can remember, I have never quite grasped the idea that I am not my own and that my life is not my own. God is a part of my life, sure, but it was never as if He was the director of my life. After all, we have free will, right? Well, I've been thinking of it incorrectly. Yes, we have free will; however, maybe that free will is to be used to give up the reigns and let God have his way and not to call the shots. God gave us freedom so that we would choose Him and not our own path. He has had our lives planned since before we were even thoughts in our parents' heads. Clearly, He doesn't need us to tell Him what our purpose is, because He had it ready before we existed.
That purpose? That grand plan for our lives? It's bigger than us and our desires. God's plan for our lives is beyond anything we can imagine, and despite our smallness in the scheme of things, our plans affect this world more than we will ever see. We spend so much time planning our moves like they're only affecting us. Wake up call! We affect more than ourselves. It isn't just about our little lives. Of course, each of us matters to God, down to the number of hairs on our heads, but our purpose goes far above our own existence. I need to understand that it isn't about me. The decision to let God lead me doesn't just affect me, and it isn't just about making my life enjoyable for me. It's all about God and what He wants to use me to do for others.
So, how do we know what our purpose is? People spend their entire lives searching, and many give up, because they never feel that they've found the meaning of their lives. Well, the short answer is God. Now, I'm not saying that you say a simple prayer and read a scripture, and God will reveal your future to you. It doesn't work that way in my experience.
But think about it. Let's say you got some nifty contraption for Christmas this year. You have no idea what it's used for or how to use it. Do you mess with it yourself, potentially breaking it or using it much below its potential? Or do you consult the instruction manual, written by the creator who knows every subtle nuance of the machine? The same goes for our lives. We didn't create ourselves, and we have no idea how to correctly reach our full potential. When we try to figure it out alone, we just make a mess of things. It's only when we consult our Creator, God, that we figure out our purpose. And that means letting Him lead us through prayer, fellowship with others who will encourage us in our walks, and meditation on His word, which is our very own instruction manual.
It's isn't about me or you or any individual. Our purpose goes beyond us, it affects more than us, and it can only be found in relationship with our Creator. Find Him, and you will find your purpose.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)