This past August Eric and I celebrated 23 years of marriage. That, from one perspective, is a lot of time, a lot of time to learn about myself and life. It seems since Grace’s passing I have been sorting through the mental card catalogue of my life. Looking at what I have learned, examining with care each card. I am looking at what I believe and value, what is true and what are just powerless platitudes or outdated ideals.

I came across one card and I find myself unable to put it down. The card I hold in my hands is dingy, torn and the writing has faded but it has been underscored, highlighted and circled. I remember when this card was written. It was during the early stages of my marriage when life was bright and shiny and new.  In one corner of this card I can still see the faded splotches of spit-up from our newborn, Grace. The card reads, “Children do not make your life better. The life of a child only magnifies what is already there.” I remember writing this card. Only someone with a child can understand the simplicity and beauty of this truth. The same can be said of someone with money or with a spouse…”These things don’t make your life better…just different…and they prove to only magnify your strength or weakness.”

The inexperienced eyes of the young wife look longingly at the arms of the mother holding the baby. The young wife thinks to herself, “A baby will make it all better!” But the reality of experience says, “The baby only exposes what is already in the marriage.” If the marriage is strong, loving and stable, the baby will amplify that love, stability and strength. If the marriage is fraught with discontentment, tension and heartache, the baby will only expose and magnify the disgruntled and hard feelings. I re-read my card for the umpteenth time, “The life of a child does not make life better, only different. It reveals what is already there.”

It is upon examining this card, turning it over and over again in my shaking hands that I know this card is incomplete. I didn’t rewrite a new card but rather just added a much needed second truth. “The life of a child doesn’t make your life better. The death of a child doesn’t make your life worse, just different. Life or death only magnifies what is already there.” This is an old card with a familiar understanding but with a whole new depth. The first truth cannot stand if the second truth is error. Do the circumstances of my life make my life any better or any worse?? That is why I am still holding this card in my hand, turning it over and over, reading it in my sleep and in the shower. But still, neither truth is substantial if I don’t read the back of the card. What is on the back of this card is, in some form or fashion, what is on the back of all of my cards. I didn’t write the back. It is the handwriting of Jesus. His writing reads, “If you take My words and live by them then your life is complete. If you ignore My words and go your own way then your life will always lack.”  Then the truth of my life isn’t about better or worse but about being complete.

Simple, plain and extravagant! And full of Hope! Husbands, children, money, etc…these things are temporary, inconsistent and fleeting. It seems they are here one minute and gone the next. The presence of these things in my life does not make my life better any more than the absence of these things makes my life worse. He, the Christ, makes my life complete. In the end, it is not about what I have written, scratched out, added or edited on the front side of the cards of my life that really count, it is what I have done with the writing on the back.

Eric and I visit Grace’s graveside often. To explain why we go there would be futile to those who don’t understand. But then trying to understand the incompressible was the whole reason I started blogging in the first place. It seems I haven’t made much progress since the time of Grace’s tragic death and her glorious “Heavenly Homecoming”. I suppose where I am right now in this process is trying to bridge the chasm between the knowledge of my head versus the hurt of my heart.

We leave her graveside and every time I am struggling to breathe and think straight. I just keep muttering to myself, “Our child died. Our firstborn died. Our Grace died!” It remains incomprehensible. As I walk away, holding on to Eric, the pain in my heart is almost unbearable. And I shouldn’t say ‘heart’ because that is just one tiny space within your chest. That place just left of the middle of your chest. I should say, “The pain that starts in the back of my throat as I choke back hot tears, collides with a rolling acid wave of stabbing pain pulling upward from the bottom of my lungs. The two forces meet somewhere in the middle of the entirety of my chest which causes me to lose my breath”. I have to actually remind myself to breath. At that point with every beat of my heart, my deafened ears ring. All I am really aware of is the pulse of my heart ringing in my stinging and burning ears mixed with intense and consuming pain.  

Still, with the shake of my head I know that is an inept description. There is no way to really convey the depth, intensity and hollowness of the unbelievable pain and sadness that fills my being, numbs my brain and disarms my senses at the realization that “Grace is gone”.

As we drive off, with my world coming back into focus, I realize I was not prepared for this kind of pain and loss. I suppose there is no way one could prepare for it. But, still, I know I am being “unreasonable”. My head says the pain I feel is “unreasonable.” I remember holding Grace in my arms hours before she passed telling her, “Baby, if God gives you what you deserve He will give you Heaven. Don’t stay here for me or dad! Choose Heaven. Receive your reward! You have fought so hard and so well, you deserve Heaven.” My head knows Heaven is the best place for her. A place where there is no pain or tears. Grace was about to leave for college and start her own life apart from me and her dad. Our time together was coming to a drastic change. Children leave home to make their own path and go their own way. Change was coming either way. "You know Heaven is the best place for her"…..This is what my head says.

But my heart, well, my heart is another story. My heart cannot understand, accept or fathom such reasoning. My heart hurts at the loss of Grace. It implodes and bursts with searing pain at the memory of her face, the sound of her laugh, the sight of her picture or the remembrance of plans made for her future.

At the moment, I find I cannot bridge the chasm between my reasonable head that understands Grace is in a better place and my unreasonable heart that feels only her bitter absence. My head reasons that with the passing of time, (Come on Laura it’s been five months!) my heart shouldn’t hurt so badly, (Come on Laura it’s only been five months!). My head cannot comprehend my heart. My heart doesn’t listen to my head. But it hopes. My heart still hopes for the strength to bear the loss of our Grace well. My heart hopes not in the lessening of the pain of losing Grace but rather in endurance until the chasm between my head and heart is bridged.

My heart remains in hope until my head and my heart are one again.

Today is five months since our Grace passed. Yes, it seems I am still counting the days and months without her. I wish I could say the pain is gone, my heart has healed and all is well but that would not be the truth, not even close. 

It was a choice to enjoy her birthday Sunday, October 6. Many of my closest friends and family joined me and my family Sunday to honor Grace by dedicating “Grace Park” behind our, and her, church building in her memory. It was a choice as we gathered beside her grave to celebrate her life with love and laughter as Alese spray painted a purple rose on her grave while her brothers watched, her dad sang and friends stood close by.

Grace was and is the epitome of inspiration. I marvel at her courage, faith and spirit all the time. When I am at my worst, I remember Grace at her best. I wish I could say her best was when she was footloose and fancy free without a care in the world, acting like most spontaneous and erratic 19 year olds, but that is not true and very short-sighted.  Grace’s best, her most excellent of heart, was when she had every reason to be angry with God, angry with the world and bitter with her life but chose to love God instead, embrace her life and fight the never ending pain. She did this all with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. Grace saw and understood the beauty of choice.

It was Grace’s choice not to be a victim of cancer and that made her a victor in life. The dark seasons of our life seems to want to dictate and whittle down our choices until we feel we have no choices left to make at all. It is those times we become victims- victims of life, victims of circumstance, victims of the very thing we hate. Grace made a choice early on in her journey not to be a victim. Her dark season came and with it she saw the Light and Beauty of choice. And once she made her choice, she never changed her mind or direction!

Grace’s choice is made, mine seems to waver more than I would like. If Grace’s choices were based on how she felt, she would have never left her bed. And her infamous smile would have faded into crumbling tears. There is no doubt she had every reason to cry but she chose to laugh, love and live instead. When a heart chooses to live above the circumstance and stand in Faith, I believe the grace of God abounds and helps to sustain our choice. Grace understood the grace, power and sustenance of choice.

I am still looking at her life and learning from it. I wish I could say the dark season of my life is over, but I see the heavy black clouds that hang low and dense and I sense the eerie stillness of the air around my heart. But at the same time, I see Light stabbing and piercing through those ominous clouds and I understand the beauty and victory of the day is contained in the power of my choice.

Grace’s birthday is coming up next Sunday, October 6. The week before she went into hospice she was making plans to visit Florida with her friends to celebrate her 21st birthday. In her heart, spirit and body she fought for life every day. She never used cancer as an excuse for anything!! (Except maybe to get an indoor dog!! ) This story is a tribute to her life and the inspiration she was and is to me. This Sunday I will celebrate her birth, giving thanks to God I had the blessing to know Grace, love Grace and be changed by Grace!

The story of Grace is an amazing story. Her story is filled with hope, love, faith, and courage. After battling sarcoma cancer for 9 months she stated her faith was just as strong then as it was in the beginning. That statement was made just one month before her passing on May 9, 2013. I am here to say her faith was stronger, but not only that, her smile was broader, her face shone brighter and her eyes were clearer after battling hard for nine months than when she first began her journey. In her end, she was not diminished but bursting with glory at her mortal seams. Grace was transformed during her battle into a person I am sorry I did not get the chance to spend a my lifetime with. As her body became weaker and more and more sick, her internal life force became stronger and more and more sweet.

I would be the first to say this awesome and amazing dear young woman changed my life.  Living with Grace I was in the front row seat of her life and watched as her story was played out before my very eyes. We laughed together but we did not cry together. She never saw the need to cry. As far as I know, she never shed a tear for herself or questioned the reason of “Why me?” One thing she could not stand were eyes of pity. She never pitied herself and didn’t understand or receive pity from others. She was a warrior through and through. While she knew inner strength and resolve and had the patience of self restraint enduring great pain, she readily admitted she did not see what all the fuss was about when people told her they admired her faith or that she inspired them. She just lived her life the only way she knew how. But what those words of affirmation and adoration added to her is unexplainable. She knew the strength she had did not come from her but from her God and from the people rallying around her. I watched her face light up as I read cards from people of the community saying they were praying for her. The light radiating from her face was unmistakable as people told her how much she had inspired them; and I watched as she walked on a little taller and fuller after hearing the words, “You have made a difference in my life!”. It was wonderful to behold the beauty of inspiration unfolding before my heart. It was amazing to watch the cycle of people being inspired by Grace who was in turn inspired by them and the momentum went on and on.

It is for this very reason Day of Grace-“Inspirational Day” has been the burden of mine and Eric’s heart. We saw firsthand the power and value of inspiration. What we experienced as a family, we would like for everyone to have the opportunity to experience. We should not wait for tragedy to dictate the time to express our heartfelt thank you’s or I love you’s. This is a day to let that person or people know they have made a difference in our lives. It not only feels great to say thank you and be reminded of the inspiration but it also is a wonderful thing to hear thank you and be encouraged to continue on in strength.

On October 7, 2013, please send a purple rose to the one who has inspired you that they might know of the difference they have made in your life. We have learned it is the simple acts of kindness that restore our hope and give us strength to carry on. Expressed love and goodness remind us we need one another. Grace left behind a great legacy of inspiration and hope. And I am thankful for her life every day.  

I thought I heard Cancer laughing as I stood there crying…

He was taunting me as we stood vigil outside her surgery room door. I thought we traded her reddened scars, blonde hair and sickened time on the bathroom floor for his promised vanishing act.

I thought I heard Cancer laughing as I knelt there praying…

The stench of him filled my nostrils as I offered my humble prayers for her strength and healing. We stood as one unflinching and empowered from Above bound together by the cords of love.

I thought I heard Cancer laughing as she lay there dying…

But this time it was my sweet Grace laughing and the joy of her heart filled my own. She stood strong in the One who gave her Life. Never would she be a victim or an excuse just pure love, effervescent joy and unexplainable peace.

I thought I heard Cancer laughing as I stood there weeping…

But this time it was my weeping that had turned to laughter when I realized my sweet Grace had just traded her cancer ravaged body for a brand spanking new one. Her time of suffering was over and all her pain was gone.

I thought I heard Cancer weeping as I stood there laughing…

In the end all he got was a used up body while Grace gain Heaven. I laugh harder through my tears and pain knowing Grace won and I will see her again.

I thought I heard our voices and our banner raised high. Never will we give in! Never will we give up! We stand together and we fight!

It seems I cried the entirety of last week! It started Monday with a wonderful group of hearts that allowed me to give them a glimpse of Grace. The tears continued….on and on….Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday was no exception. A dear friend and I travelled all over our great community Thursday promoting the Day of Grace and I had the pleasure to encounter many people who talked about our dear and beloved daughter.

The tears wanted to come but I tried my best to keep them away. I so desperately wanted to hear everything these dear fellow citizens had to say about Grace’s life and her impact on them personally.  Some talked openly with me. Some walked carefully and tenderly, not wanting to rush in and cause tears. Others wiped their eyes while I wiped mine. My cup was being filled up.

It is amazing how empty you can feel one moment. When I say empty, I mean that feeling of being utterly alone, feeling small, hollow and insignificant. Teetering on the brink of despair you draw yourself up into the furthermost corner of the darkened room of your soul, willing the thickened air to cover over and erase you like a hand wipes over a chalkboard and all memory of what once was there is not only forgotten but absolutely irretrievable.  Pain and tragedy can take a person to rooms like that.

But then, with something as simple as a smile or a kind word of another person, your spirit lifts.  When I say lifts, I mean the feeling of having a hundred pound weight cut loose from the ropes wound tightly around your chest, blood and life fills that hollow cavity of your chest once again and you experience the warm glow of the beat of hope. You actually feel the gentle breeze of the wing of a smile itching at the corners of your heart and slowly your mouth. And when you realize what that person has truly given you, you feel that smile dance and float its way to your eyes. That is when you know your soul has been released from that darkened prison and given permission to breath in the sweet air of freedom and you realize you have been given the honor of being truly touched by the kindness of another person.  

You have felt their impact and you become full again…your cup becomes full again.

To me that is what this week was all about. I am acutely aware with every fiber of my being of the loss of Grace. And still the pain of losing her is at times more than I can bear.   At the end of the day Thursday, after an emotional roller-coaster ride of a week, I came upon a poem that really summed up how I was feeling. I found it as I was sitting in the City Hall of Lumber City waiting to speak with the Mayor.

I was sitting there soaking up the stillness of the room and the lovely conversation I was having with my dear friend. During the quiet moments, I was rehearsing in my heart every word said to me that day, every hug offered to me, smile given, every tear shed. And it was like two tsunamis collided within my chest, heart and thoroughly throughout my being. The violent overwhelming sense of extreme loss and grief was met with the fierce force of human kindness, love and care. My cup was filled up. It is only after experiencing the deprivation of choice that you truly understand the value of freedom.

The same is true of inexplicable loss and grief. Anyone who has experienced disheartening tragedy knows the value of the hands that bring the fragrant ointment of comfort and healing.  I sat there feeling all these emotions and that is when I read the poem that brought pointed clarity to the churned mixture of memories new and old, notions that make my heart conflict with my head, and feelings that are too deep and sharp to fully comprehend. I understood that at the end of the day, after all is said and done, when my grief is weighed against my blessing, I can honestly say, “I am drinking from the saucer because my cup has overflowed!” **

There is no doubt true healing only comes from above. To experience the love of the Father, to know His love, fills the heart to overflowing and the soul can’t help but be glad. He made us and He knows exactly what we need, spirit, soul and body. As great as our God is I have come to realize, He is not enough. I know that sounds odd. Please bear with me.  He is God, our Father, and of course He is enough. But in His extreme love for us, His thought is MORE not just “enough”!  In His wisdom and perfection, He gave us the gift and light of each other.  His design is that we would not be alone.

His commandment was that He be FIRST! Not that He would be our all in all and not need one another. 

It is easy to get caught up in our everyday lives and forget the divine purpose placed within us. By God’s design we are needful to each other. The kind word spoken or the warm smile offered is no small thing. To the person dwelling in the dark corners, what may seem trivial and small is actually a window of light and hope. Within us is a contained treasure chest of wealth we cannot understand.
 
I look into the faces of strangers who are telling me about Grace, wiping their eyes and I know they cannot understand what they are giving me. It is a treasure more precious than gold. In that moment I am humbled by their kindness. My cup overflows. The light of their words and actions has pulled me up and out and I thank them, to the best of my ability.

I thank my Heavenly Father and I know I am now drinking from my saucer because my cup has overflowed.

As I sit here now, going back over my entire week, Friday was just like Thursday. Another dear friend sent me a picture first thing Friday morning of our Trojan High School Football Team’s helmet. And there in a gold circle is the name of our Grace. The image of that golden circle with her name on it worn proudly by those players still reverberates in the depths my mind and heart. The dear friend and Coach both tell me the players are honored to wear her name. But it is I who am honored. So much love and kindness has been given to me and my family. My cup is filled up once again. Many tears run unchecked down my cheeks but these are not tears of grief but of genuine thankfulness. My cup is running over. The existence of my life has changed with the passing of our Grace. She taught me so much through her life and the ones around me have taught me so much through her death.  You have taught me the importance of kindness and the value of what our words and actions can do inside a person. Because of you I am humbled and honored to say,” I am drinking from the saucer because my cup overflows!”  **(Drinking from the Saucer Poem ~ Author Unknown)

Eric and I were talking the other day about our Grace being gone. It’s been 3 months since she transitioned from this life into the next. And we still can hardly comprehend it. “Our…. child…. died…. from…. cancer….” Still, as the words are forming in my mind and mouth I shake my head in disbelief. I told Eric as we were discussing our life together, “We have become one of those people”. You know the Ones, the ones whose lives have been altered by tragic events. We pray for them, grieve for them. Talk about how awful life can be from time to time. We stroke their pain from a far off, deep down admiring their strength, wondering at their loss and hoping we will never have to experience anything like that, EVER!. Those people were people from “over there”, cities and counties and states away. Now the realization has hit….and it hit hard. I am “one of those people”. I have come up close to what has always been so far away.  And I am still reeling from it.

Being at peace with your life is no small feat. I “bump” into people everyday who are discontent with their life. The bump isn’t always physical, but it is real just the same. You read the discontentment in blogs and status updates. You overhear it at restaurants and grocery stores. You see it in the eyes of the driver next to you as you are waiting at the light. Sometimes in those brief, deep glances through the windows to each other’s soul, I sigh and wonder. It’s like driving slowly down a dark street and you pass by houses with the lights on and the curtains open. It’s only a quick look, but you see the colors of the walls, pictures hung, style of furniture, or the lack there of. And briefly you know you’ve entered that secret, quiet place of another’s dwelling.  And then, just like that, with the blink of an eye, the curtains close and you drive on contemplating your own dreams, secrets and tragedies. Peace. There is no substitute for it. No counterfeit to take its place. Men have tried bottling it like it is something you can swallow, shoot up or snort. One of the biggest challenges I have found in my very short 44 years on the earth,  as I have observed my own life and listened to those around me, is the practicality of living and being ‘at peace’.

Is it that I am human? Do other nations struggle with discontentment as much as Americans? Is it the notion of the “American Dream” that has set us up for such failure? Or is it just the nature of the world around us that transcends culture, color, sex or age? As far as I can tell, very few people over the age of 25 have everything they dreamed of when they were younger. We envisioned glorious careers at our fingertips, lasting marriages filled with lingering kisses and affection, homes that survived any storm, relationships that were fun and stable and children that lived. We saw ourselves strong and able, overcoming burgeoning bad habits and weaknesses and wise beyond our years. Now what do I see when I look in the mirror? Discontentment, dark wild and unruly, stares back, searching out the deep places within me, the hidden places behind the curtains. Wow! Pretty depressing! Exactly! Life is, at times, depressing. And it sucks! (Please pardon my crude language.) This is evident by the words of our mouth at work and what we put on Facebook at home. We become “one of those people” and curl up into ourselves, blurring the edges of our reality, pulling the blanket of denial over our heads, just waiting and wanting it all to disappear. But that is wishing my life away! Being ‘at peace’ with my life makes me uncurl again, like a delicate bloom slowly unfurling in the hope and wonder of the wet morning sun. So, the road took a turn I wasn’t expecting or ready for. It doesn’t matter if I handled the curve with the grace of Jeff Gordon or fell off the tracks like a derailed Amtrak. This is my life, the only life I’m going to have here on this earth. There is no going back. Accept it. There is no changing what has passed.  Accept it. The only right response to life is to acknowledge the hurt and disappointment, deal with it, embrace my life and l…i…v…e.  To try to live from any other place than peace is to spread my misery and discontentment to others around me. And to me, that is not living. To live true, is to live in Peace. In the place of peace, I find contentment, even during the most of horrific circumstances, to love my life and those around me.

                                                                               

I have become, ‘one of those people’ and I am endeavoring to find the grace to be at peace with my “new” life.

In this life there are promises made, statements declared, love given and for a moment life is golden like the commitment of the sunrise to make it all come true. But at the end of the day when the moments have turned to hours, the gold has turned to dust, promises broken and forgotten and the night has constricted your heart and lungs and left you for dead, what do you do? You take the hand of the One who loves you. You stand with the ones who hold you. With peace in your heart, soul and mind, you choose to embrace and accept all the day has delivered. You count the stars and look for the sun to rise tomorrow.

There are those, nearby and far off, that count the blessings of their life. They open their curtains for all to see the warm glow of the color of their love, light and laughter. Their lives don’t look at all like they wanted or dreamed. But their hearts and faces are not hardened with bitterness or longing. Their tragic loss, grief or hurt is not hidden nor strewn about but rather put in its right place. In the diverse and ornate curio of their lives you see the barrenness of desolation but you also see the delicate bloom of hope, the gentle comfort of blessing and the fortress of peace.
 
Yes, I want to be “one of those people”.  

I read a blog recently about a family pet that wandered off and broke the heart of the young daughter which in turn broke the heart of the whole family. There was one portion of the story that caught my attention and brought my still healing heart to a sudden standstill.

The pet had been missing for a few days and while the mother clutched her child close to her breast, their hearts beating as one, the little girl lets it out, “God does loves us, doesn’t He, Mama?” (When you just want God to show up and answer your prayers by Ann Voskamp)

And I sat there holding my breath and gulped. What this young girl breathed from her innermost being from the place of her utmost pain, is what I believe we all question time to time. I noticed it was a question the young girl asked, not a statement she made. Oh, the goodness and innocence of the young heart. She did not state, “God does not love us Mama!” She did not place a judgment on God but rather revealed a vital component of our fragile heart and human condition. She wondered, am I lovable? Do I matter at all to God? Does He see me and my broken heart? I certainly have pondered this very sentiment. And, I have uttered this very question, many times, after Grace left us to be with her Lord and Savior. “God, do you love me? Because at this moment I do not feel loved at all.”

I read the next few words of the blog very slowly. Sure this sensitive, deep and discerning mother had just the right words to comfort her child’s broken yet hopeful heart. And maybe give me a glimpse or spark synapses of understanding to give vision and light into the fathoms of darkness I can’t seem to navigate or comprehend.  I am glad for the happy ending of the pet’s return and the little girl’s experience of God’s love for her, her family and pet, but what about when the end can’t be deemed “happy” in human terms?  What about when the answer to our deepest question, “Does God love me?” seems to be, “No”? “No” and your pet dies, “No” and you lose your job, your health, the relationship. “No” and you lose your spouse, parent, grandchild….or daughter. “No, and you lose your faith and trust in a God you cannot see or touch. What happens when there isn’t a bow at the end of your story but only weeping, darkness and a heart shattered on the floor?

This is when knowing the answer is different than understanding the answer. Of course we know the answer is always a loud and emphatic, “YES!” “Yes, God loves me!” Those of us who have tasted of His goodness and made to be partakers of His divine nature understand who He is. He, the creator of the Heavens and Earth and everything good in it, is Love. He doesn’t just love. He IS love. Understanding, not just knowing the answer is vital if I am to make it through the seasons of “No, you will not get what you are asking but Yes, I DO STILL LOVE YOU!”

Eric and I purposed in our hearts after Grace died not to ask why. But, ‘Why’ stayed at the forefront of my brain anyway. I kept ignoring it and stepping over it like a dirty penny in a parking lot. With resilience that dirty thought kept turning up so I kept looking the other way. When I contemplated asking “why?” to God, the only thought that kept resounding in my head was the memory of sitting down at the table trying to reason with my 14 year old upon hearing, “No, you can’t have that or do that”. I know firsthand what it is like to have your heart and motives challenged and questioned. I just refused go there with God. I understand from my time of being a parent that if someone or God Himself, sat at my dining room table, and tried to give me the answer of why, it would be like listening to someone speaking in a different language or listening to words that can only be heard at a certain decibel. And I would sit there, my head cocked to the side, trying to understand the foreign language but instead only howling at the unheard and misunderstood syllables that pierced my aching ears but did nothing for my aching heart.

No child likes to hear the words, “You will understand when you are older.” But, as adults, we know there is fundamental truth to those words. Sometimes the answers to our deepest questions cannot be contained in one tiny fragment of space and time, no matter how big it seems at the time. No matter how badly we want the answer…plead for it. Not surprisingly, it is the best of answers that unfold themselves, quietly and gently, mending our hearts as we walk with the ones we trust, the One in whom we trust, the One who loves us most.

Understanding the love God has for me has helped my navigation through the dark seasons of not feeling His love for me. Even when the answer is “No” I understand it is for my good and I choose trust. I do not walk away from the conversation like a rebellious teenager to go my own way, but rather sit at the table and commune, not asking why, but simply waiting and yielding my way to His way and His timing. Knowing His love is good. Understanding His love is better and has helped to conquer the very real but temporary feelings of my fragile heart.

Walking through this season, I have come to understand looking for answers to my deepest questions is like trying to find tiny pearl beads that have scattered from a very long but broken necklace- which at times resembles my broken life. The pieces have hit the ground, bounced and disappeared. And there I am, scurrying about trying to put it back together again, hoping nothing is lost. Searching and asking, crying or angry as I look underneath furniture and lift up rugs.  Frantically scouring the dark and dusty corners as I try not to lose the tiny beads I have found and gathered.   In those mired and tiresome moments I have forgotten there are not multiple answers to my multiple questions. And I certainly will not find them looking down or around. There is but one answer. And He is not as fragile as my beaded necklace nor broken life. Neither is He as complicated. He is simple. He is beautiful. Grace died and I did not get the answer I wanted and the feeling of God’s love for me shattered to jeweled bits as my heart was crushed with the weight of losing her. Regardless of the multitude of questions I could ask, I do not go to Him for the answers, I have come to understand through His love and grace, He is “The Answer”.

Watching You Leave

Journal Entry 07 05 2013

Yesterday as Eric and I were out driving we stumbled upon the most wonderful sight. Amusing enough to have us both craning our necks as we turned the corner and make up our own dialogue of what was supposedly being said.

Picture this. Empty silver Audi car parked in the right hand lane with flashers on as the Dad stands peering over the fence next to the road watching his teenage daughter, suitcase tagging along behind her, ticket in hand, giddily dancing toward the entrance to the bus station. He takes out his wallet, calls her back and offers her his money. She is smiling as she re-traces her steps back to him but you see it in the corners of her mouth and eyes. “Dad let me go! I’m ready!” He stood there outside the fence, car in the middle of the street, watching her leave. And he stood there until she was through the entrance and out of sight. And he lingered there still. As the dad walked off, his face toward the ground we did not look at him. All we could do was offer privacy for him to work out the feelings we know all too well. The truth is one of the hardest things we do as parents, is watch our children leave. I am sure in his mind he was picturing her in her knee socks, chubby cheeks smeared with sticky candy, scraggly wildflowers in one hand, puppy leash in the other, skipping as she talked to herself about princesses, tea parties and chasing butterflies in the back yard. But, our children are constant reminders that time does not stand still.

Transition. A three syllable word that stretches you like a rubber band. The first time this word became a reality as a parent was during labor. There is a stage called, “transition”. For those mothers who endured or fathers who watched, I understand the furrow of your brow as you recall those moments in time. Transition was the hardest change, movement and process of labor. Quite literally it was the “do or die” moment. Had Eric not been there walking me though every breath of the way, I would have given up all hope and the heat of pain would have consumed my whole body till nothing was left but sweat, blood and tears. But breakthrough was on the heels of transition and soon our Grace was in my arms and the pain and memory of transition was far out of mind like a forgotten bowl in the upper corner cabinet. But eventually you’re going to need that bowl so down it comes and with it thoughts of pain and fear.

The first transition of labor was just a test run so it seems because growing your children up from childhood to adulthood is nothing but constant change. Sometimes change comes like a bursting surprise of colors, laughter and music. Sometimes it hits you like a dull inevitable ache. Other times change crashes upon you like a 30 foot wave you never saw coming. It is one thing to walk your five year old across the street to his first day of class and quite another to watch your 16 year old drive away. Yet still to walk your 18 year old to the airport terminal and quite another to walk your daughter down the aisle. And yes it is quite different still to hold your child in your arms and watch as she transitions from this life to the next.

Your greatest hope as a parent is to hear the words we can only suppose this young girl said to her “Daddy or Poppy”, “I am ready! Let me go!” How many times have we heard that phrase uttered, muttered, declared and proclaimed? “I can do it myself!” They start declaring it early. Dressing themselves in polka-dots and stripes or while buttoning their shirts one button off. And you stand there gazing in his big brown hopeful eyes, smiling as you look at the catty wonkus shirt. You nod your head proudly, “Yes, I see. You can do it!” Parenthood is just as much, if not more, training for the parent as the child. We have to keep our eyes on the target, lest our hearts confuse the point of parenthood, which is to make them ready to leave. Whether we can admit it out loud or not we want to hear to proclamation, “I am ready. I can do it myself.” We, as parents, are the shoulders that hoist our children upward. We are the mega-phone that shouts “make clear the path”. We are the whispers in their mind and hearts that make them believe in themselves. We love our jobs! But then on the coat-tails of “I can do it myself” comes the quicksand of “Let me go!” This is the disdained rub. You can’t have one reality without the other. We make them ready. We show them the stars and explain their God-given glory and beauty, we show them themselves and boast of their God-given glory and beauty, we train them in the tools and resources to gain the galaxies and beyond and then….We hear the reverberations of declarations of the past, ”Let me go! I am ready!”, as they gaze heavenward, hopeful and excited about the worlds they will conquer, without us. So, we take our hands off, we back away, but linger as we watch.

It’s like standing in the sunshine while it rains. It is an odd and bizarre sight and sensation. On the one hand you are getting wet and you don’t like it. But at the same time it’s beautiful and awe inspiring and you know it won’t last forever. In just a moment it will all be over, no need to rush or fret. Standing there lingering as you are watching your child leave and go her own way is a bit like that, mixture of contradicting emotions. Parents and children, ups and downs, scrapped knees and wounded hearts, accomplishments and graduations until they are making their own path to worlds where you cannot follow. You are standing there, the constant monument of consistency and dependency, proud and hopeful but your heart tender and vulnerable, as you watch as from the other side of the fence which only highlights the feeling of the chasm between you. And you linger, watching as they make their steady and determined movement forward, transitioning yet again, until they are out of sight. I know it is the best thing, the right thing, the only thing to do at this point in time but it is also the hardest thing, watching you leave!

The scene could be from the 6:00 o’clock evening news. We gaze in horror at the skeleton remains of a charred and ruined homestead. The chimney stands alone like a humbled, weary soldier against the grey of the mid-day sun. Columns and beams still smoldering as the stench of smoke and ash clings heavy in the air. And you think to yourself, “What could possibly remain after such a fire?” And then you see the faces of the ones sifting through the ash and rubble looking for what remains. Their faces are just a reflection of their hearts, tear streaked and dirty. The look of pain and shock written in the sooted creases and lines around their eyes and lips, as they pick and plunder. And you think again with pity, “What could remain in that crumpled mess of a broken house scattered in blackened pieces?”

Losing a home to devastation, either to wind, fire or water, is one agony I have never faced. I cannot imagine what that must be like. But, I do know what it means to walk through devastation that challenges you beyond belief and your faith. I know what it feels like to be standing in the middle of a storm and watching the wind blow and the water rise and wonder to yourself what would be left when it is all said and done. Mine and Eric’s house of thoughts, faith, mindset and ideals caught fire. And the uncontrollable waves of heat burned white hot as the flames licked at the very core of our being. So here we are today. We are the ones sifting through the ash and rubble, wondering to ourselves, “What remains?”

Thoughts, attitudes or paradigms of faith can only show their true value when tested with the fires of trial and tribulation. How can you truly trust the integrity of a thing if it first has not been tested or tried? Being refined by the fire is not an easy process but it is simple. Those core values that glow and pulse in the heart of the fierce and raging fire and sustain their substance, shape and composition are the only things that can be built with and upon. Yes, there are those things that shine brighter, made sturdier and purer after enduring the scorching of heat and stinging of cooling water. Patterns of thoughts or faith ideals that cannot endure the heat of the day deserve to become nothing more than ash and rubble. They are the terrible dross of my mind and emotion. In them is no substance that can be mistaken for or identified as faith. The Fire knows and the Fire reveals. I must allow these fantasies of thoughts and attitudes of bolstered wishes that resemble faith, to burn like wood, hay and stubble. They do not remain but become charred beyond recognition and burned beyond useful anymore. The Fire distinguishes and the Fire sets apart. This process of refinement has two very important components that work together like bees and pollen to make life sweet and stable. I cannot rush this process nor can this process ever stop. The fires of the day and life are continual; therefore, I must be relentless in my actions. I have to know what remains and choose to build with those values, patterns of thought and faith. And, I must also look at the things which do not remain and clear out the charcoaled tidbits or towering blackened beams of ideals, actions and attitudes that make my mind, soul and heart a wasteland of rubble and ash. The glory of today is to find those things that radiate brilliance and light after the fire and with them build all the while ridding myself of the weight of ash and rubble that only cause my heart, faith and mind to be complicated and weighed down. The house that is built on the rock may be simple and low but in the end all that really matters is what remains when the day is over, the fire has raged and all is said and done.

Months ago I sat down with Alan, Grace’s boyfriend, and talked with him about what was next. Something big was about to happen. It was evident to all. The tension was building, like the approaching apprehension of watching all the animals fleeing in one direction as you are rushing and falling toward the culminating unknown. Something massive, life-changing, is just out of sight. You try with all your might to prepare for the unpreparable. If I talked with Alan like I knew what was about to happen, it was a lie. I certainly didn’t know. I only knew of what I believed and hoped. It was easy to look at their life together and know neither had a clue of what was going to be. Even in their wildest dreams they could not comprehend the 90 degree turn their life was about to take. I wanted to help prepare him for what was coming. He had not seen Grace in a couple of days as she had been in the hospital. Also, Grace had chosen to go under hospice care and I knew the weight that would carry with him. My heart was broken for what Alan was about to face and I wanted desperately to try and help prepare him for her current condition. My own clarity, if I had any at the time, is eroded now. I will be the first to say the fork in the road has been taken and the bend has proven to be more challenging and diverse than I could have ever imagined. The change in my life has overwhelmed me, humbled me and there are times I feel completely lost and insignificant as I try to navigate on this new road.

Grief has many components. Few things in life are flat, without dimension, certainly nothing of value. Grief, like love, is multi-layered. Each layer comes with its own crispness of memories, mind numbing pain, confusion or understanding. Staring me in the face like a mannequin through a shop window is the vision of being at peace with the fork in the road. The thought of Grace is ever constant. Thoughts of our first moments together as she was freshly born and crying and I was out of breath and our last moments together when I was crying and she was out of breath. Random thoughts hold my attention of her childhood while my mind wanders as I wash dishes. My brow furrows with the knowledge of the college graduation never to come or the wedding dress never tried on or the grand-children never held. And I grieve. I wonder with quiet indignity when it will all go back like it was once before. In simple terms, I grieve for the fork in the road. Time marches on and I wonder again with rage and tears when it will all go back like it once was before?? I grieve for the loss of our Grace but I also grieve to be stuck on a path taken in which there is no turn around. I had become so accustomed to loving the forward progression of life. When the kids are little you look forward to the approaching years. You glory for each new step taken or driver’s license earned. And you marvel in wonder for what is next. But, now it seems, I want to get off this ride and go back. “Please, someone, turn this thing off and let me go back!! I feel sick and dizzy and I just want to get off!” And still the sun crosses the sky and the moon rises. And the fork in the gets further and further behind and you suddenly realize as the knot in your stomach grows and tightens, there is no going back. Life as you knew it is over. Who you were then when she was alive is gone. Mother of four is now mother of three. So, I grieve for the fork in the road because I have the understanding there is no option but to let the thoughts of who I was before the fork, die. The picture of what I had in my head of my family and myself and our future together has changed. I can grieve that understanding but in the end, if I am to have a future, I must choose to let go. It is one thing to grieve the loss of Grace and another to grieve the loss of the road I cannot get back to. Life changes. Sometimes that change is hard. Sometime that change is out of our hands. Both usually go hand in hand like rain and weeds. I miss Grace, but I know I will see her again and my grief lessens. I see her healthy and whole and I am joyful. The bend in the road is not hateful or bitter or against me, it is just a bend in my road. How I choose to walk out this bend or fork is up to me. I believe I could grieve the fork in the road for the rest of my life. I have seen people do it. I have seen no one do it well. So, the choice is mine. How do I walk out this road, knowing there is no getting back to what once was. Can I let those thoughts and hopes of “what once could be” go?

Slowly but methodically, I am coming to terms with the fork in the road. The past wants to hold us to waste away but certainly I can see there is no future in the past. I can not move forward wishing to go back. What a shame it would be to forsake a bright future for a past that can never be claimed. There are no clear and perfect roads for any of us. But, together we forge ahead and do not stumble to look behind. Together, we take one step forward at a time and choose to joy in the road we are currently walking.

“If we do surgery now, we will have to remove Grace’s spleen, part of her lower intestine, more of her stomach, part of her liver, part of her colon…” and my heart starts beating out of control, a buzzing sound fills my head and I’m trying to listen to what the doctor is saying. She is telling me something important, vital information about my daughter. “Focus!” Her lips are moving so I know she is still speaking but my world has stopped. Darkness gathers. I force myself up and kneel in front of Grace’s x-rays on the monitor and say, “Show me. I want to see with my eyes where it is. Walk me through this.”

Every step of Grace’s journey was fraught with challenge. Not a fluid mass but a 10lb tumor, we re-group. Terrible reaction to one of the chemos after the first round, we re-group. Can not go home for treatment, we re-group. Tires are stolen, we re-group. After six rounds of chemo and two months off chemo, tumors have quadrupled in size, we re-group. Surgery is not an option, we re-group. If the next round of chemo works, we will have six months at most together, we re-group. Grace decides not to take chemo, she has six to eight weeks left, we re-group. She is gone in four, we re-group….without her.

“What else could we, should we have done?” My mind wanders these dark corners time to time. “Did we do everything? What did we not think of?” But, from the very beginning there was purpose in our hearts of one direction. The three of us together held onto the anchor of, “No regret!” Every decision was made from a place of peace, rest and agreement. “Father, what should we do? What are Your thoughts? Show us your way.” So when the dark thoughts come now, there are only Light and Brilliance to fill those dark, murky corners. Thankfully, there is no wondering to cause wandering. From beginning to end on this journey, Grace lived with ‘no regret’ as her foundation. She lived in only peace and victory. The revelation of “No regret”, transformed my life. It is an experience that I will not only cherish but choose to build upon. The first step of ‘no regret’ is faith. There can never be regret when you have acted upon faith. Faith is the first step to pleasing God. Regret can not abide in a heart that chooses to please God above all else and follow after Him. We lived our faith out loud. In spite of the doctors reports and the unbelief of others, we boldly held on to Him and His word to us, “Live, little Girl, LIVE!” We never doubted nor kept our mouths shut at any opportunity to proclaim His power and love.

Our Grace died. And I have no answer for that. I am not trying to come up with one. What I wanted and prayed for desperately never came to pass. I feel like a fool. What I thought I heard from my Father was not meant to be. That door now has closed and there is no going back and changing anything. And what would I change? Eric and I would change absolutely nothing. We three lived in one mindset in unison. “Don’t hold anything back! Do what is in your heart to do! And do it with all your might.” Don’t let the thoughts of others cause you to live in the shallow places of your heart or faith. Live your life and faith out loud. I don’t want one opportunity to slip by that would result in regret. Sometimes in life, most of the time in life, I have learned we do not get ‘do-overs’. So, do it right the first time, in that moment. You know the moment…when your heart is beckoning you to go deeper, love more or give it all. Give all of your heart, your faith and action to see beauty here on this Earth. In that moment, choose to live well; choose to live with “No Regret!”

Greetings to the blogging world. As you may have guessed right off the bat, I am new to the blogging world but I am in great expectation it is wonderful and gratifying frontier. 

I have posted several things on Facebook and am jumping into blogging mid stream. I do not consider myself a poetic writer nor a profound thinker. But, I am inspired. I believe…. and hope you do not have to be an inspirational writer to create an inspirational blog. In my case, I hope I can just write about a life changing experience and about an inspirational person that brought that change.

Grief: a keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.

While that may the definition according to Webster, those words remain one dimensional, sparse and elementary in comparison to truly understanding the depths, convexes and concaves of the reality of the experience of grief.

When there are no words to speak during this time, I have found I can write. My expressions through the written word fall short of my feelings. Most of the time it is like a dam filled to the brim just to overflowing and it is only seconds away from bursting, but then a twig moves and a simple stream of water leaks out. The amount of pressure changes little, the bursting is still close, but there is hope. As long as the trickle of water continues…there is hope that the dam will not burst and cause phenomenal devastation to all those around. May that small trickle of water bring life and hope to all it touches. And eventually, in time, the pressure will ease from the dam and all will be well again.

This post and the ones that follow will be in honor and memory of my 20 year old daughter, Grace Erin Smith who on May 9, 2013 at 5:30 am, passed from this world into the next.

Before we headed to Hilton Head after Grace’s funeral, Eric and I decided we and our children would go to Grace’s graveside. I didn’t want the graveside to become a taboo place or for it to become something placed on a pedestal that would interfere with our sight of our Father and His healing power and comfort. We gathered around her place and looked at all the beautiful flowers. We each took a rose from the arrangement the kids sent, grabbed the two pandas sitting amongst them and headed on. The baby panda sat on the dashboard the whole time we were gone. The larger panda was passed around throughout the vehicle. I kept the five roses in a vase on the kitchen table until we left. Then I gathered the petals and brought them home. She wasn’t with us on that first trip, and it was hard, but her presence was felt with every rub to the tiny dashboard panda or with every squeeze of the bigger panda or the sight or sniff of the roses.

Since then, Eric and I visit Grace’s grave site every week, sometimes several times a week. We both comment that we don’t know why we go, she is not there. Not the part that truly matters. Her body is there, just six feet below our feet. There is no way to convey the bizarre and surreal feeling of your child’s physical body to be so close and yet her be so very far away. I told him I thought it was more the thought of, “Grace, baby, you may be gone but you are not forgotten. We love you still and we make time in our day to remember you!” It has become a special time for Eric and I to sit together in peace and re-affirm our love and commitment together. I usually end up in his arms weeping while he holds me close. I wipe his tears away as he in turn wipe mine.

“In sickness and health, through life or death.” Of course I added that last part. When I was taking my marriage vows of course I couldn’t see down the road to the death of a child, our first-born child. These are the roads you discover and navigate together. The commitment to the vows we made almost 23 years ago, now encompass more than just me and Eric. The vows have stretched themselves out to cover over our precious family. Our children were born underneath those vows. “In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer till death do us part” has become a strong yet tender, impenetrable yet flexible, fierce yet comforting tent we live under together, as a family.

Before I talk about my worst day before Grace died, I have to tell you about the few days that preceded it.

It started on a Thursday. I had been sitting at Hospice with Grace all day. It was not a good day. She was back to hurting and I was back to not doing well with it at all. To the point, that when her dad showed around 5:00 p.m. at Hospice I met him in the parking lot, my bags in hand ready to head home. He was shocked at my demeanor but I couldn’t help it. I was doing so badly that I couldn’t even bear to speak to a dear friend who had come from McRae to visit with us. I left Eric with the visitor and the care of Grace and headed home. I cried all the way home. Upon entering the city limits of McRae I dried my tears because I didn’t want my other 2 kids to have to bear the weight I was carrying. Later that evening when I was alone I let it all out. I kept asking God all kinds of questions, just pouring out my heart and my hurt and my anger and frustration. My heart was broken and I was tired. A precious friend had texted me earlier in the day and given me a word concerning Grace. I could not even bear to consider it. I read the text, closed my phone and cried myself into the oblivion of sleep. The next morning I received another text from another friend that mentioned the previous text so I went back and re-read first text. It read, “God will show Himself strong on Grace’s behalf on her third day.” I texted her back and asked, “When will that be?” She texted back, “Sunday.” I jumped in the shower to prepare myself for the day. It was now Friday. I told God I could hold on to Him for another two days. I could make it with peace in my heart and strength in my soul for two more days. I put a smile on my face, washed my tears away and walked into Hospice with new found hope and confidence.

I shared with Grace what the text said and we both waited patiently and with great expectation for Sunday. Friday passed much like Thursday. Saturday was a little better. Eric went home Saturday night so he could lead worship Sunday morning. So, it was just me and Grace. We chatted Saturday evening, watched tv and got ready for bed. I pulled my bed right next to hers. I made our beds the same height so we could hold hands during the night. As I was doing all of this Grace kept hearing things. She’d ask, “Did you hear that loud noise? Or, “Do you hear all that talking?” I kept replying no. But, I started a journal of all the things she was hearing. Mostly she heard people talking and children laughing. I went to bed holding her hand excited about what tomorrow had to bring. I also went to bed pushing her morphine pain pump button every 15 minutes as was our custom.

She awoke at 6:00 a.m. the next morning. She sat up in bed. I followed suit. As any care taker can testify, when the one you love stirs and move you are right there tending to any need they may have. She looked at me with great big eyes and said, “Today is the day!” I enthusiastically agreed with her. She stated out of the blue she wanted to take a bath. So, I moved her cords, found some smell good body wash and lotion her dear friend and Aunt had brought her and helped her to the bathroom. She ,of course, didn’t want my help and endeavored to do everything by herself. She looked in the bathroom mirror and commented on how small she looked and that she didn’t like it. Her tiny arms and legs didn’t match her swollen belly. We chatted easily through the shower curtained as she bathed and I stood there waiting and ready to help. She dressed in a shirt her Aunt Angel had recently brought her and climbed back into her bed. I had just changed out her sheets so they were nice, clean and crisp feeling. I slathered her in Paris lotion as we talked and listened to music. I went to the bathroom to ready myself for the day. I asked her if she wanted to listen to some praise and worship music. It was about the same time her dad would have been leading at service. She readily agreed. The music blared as the windows were opened to the outside so Grace could see out. (My mom had put a bird feeder right next to the window facing Grace’s bed so she could easily watch the birds. But actually, we watched the squirrels climb the feeder and do somersaults to the ground.) I peeped at her from the bathroom doorway and watched as she was sitting cross-legged in the bed, staring out the window, as she conducted the music with her hands in the air with a huge smile on her face. PRICELESS! I thought again, “Today is the day!” “Her miracle is coming today!” I asked if she felt up to me putting make-up on her. She grinned and said, “Yeah! That would be awesome.” She even let me fix her super-fine short hair. I sprayed it and spiked it best I could. Soon, she was taking pictures and posting on Facebook.

The morning faded and early afternoon was upon us. Alan was there visiting with Grace. Other visitors were coming and going. During a certain episode, it was just Grace and me in the room; she could tell I was becoming impatient with the whole, “God is going to show Himself strong” part. She told me, “Mom, you just can’t rush it. You have to be patient.” I smiled and nodded that she was right. The late afternoon came and went and now it was early evening. And I started to feel the bitterness wanting to rise. With large amounts of sarcasm, I thanked God that He waited until the day was almost over before doing anything. And still we waited. 8:00 p.m. turned into 9:00 turned into 10:00. Grace prepared herself for bed and with great peace she said, “Goodnight.” As I took her hand to hold through the night I felt sick to my stomach. Nothing had happened. I was angry and disappointed and bewildered. I watched the clock as it passed from 11:59 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. and the hope of Sunday and greatness was gone. Her miracle had never come. I was to the point of retching I felt so sick in my stomach. I passed the night in great sadness, watching Grace and pushing her pain button every 15 minutes, just as I had done the night before.

Later, Monday morning as Grace and I were chatting she stated, “I don’t know how God showed Himself strong yesterday.” I grimly stated I didn’t either. But, then she looked at me, cocked her head sideways and said, “Well, actually Mom, you don’t know how bad off I would have been yesterday if God had not shown Himself strong for me.” In that moment, with her revelation given with such peace and tenderness, I nodded my head in humble agreement. “No, baby, we sure don’t know.” But, under the surface, violence was tearing my insides apart. On the one hand I was amazed and proud and humbled by Grace’s great faith and perspective and wisdom. On the other hand my fists were beating the floors and walls and doors of my own soul with anger and frustration at my own lack of understanding, perspective, wisdom and faith. And the fact she was good with her Sunday. In her there was found no regret of anticipation, no anxiety about still hurting, just calm and peace with her understanding, that just doubled my own hurt and exacerbation with God. So, much like the Thursday before, I am waiting and watching for Eric so I can head home and find some relief from the burden of my soul. I head home around 2:00 p.m. so I can be home when the other two kids get home from school. We decided when I left that I would return later that night. Grace wanted me there with her even though Alan was spending the night at Hospice as well. So, I would return after I put Alese and Jared to bed. Needless to say, again I cried myself all the way home. Dried my tears at the city limits and enjoyed my time with my kids. Alese and I lay on the sofa together. I play with her hair as she dozes resting on me.

My personal time is usually my shower time. Music is on; water is running so I can cry undisturbed. Usually, I end up on my knees in the bottom of the tub pouring my heart out to my Father, water mixed with tears while I am covered in soap. Baths have always made me feel better. I have some of my best talks with God in the shower. This night was no exception. As I poured my heart out to Him of my anger and frustration and brokenness, He softly began to speak understanding into my heart. I had been begging for His perspective and wisdom. My own was getting me nowhere but deeper in the hole. He gently began to talk to me about my yesterday, Sunday. He said, “Laura, when was the last time Grace was able to get out of bed and shower?” My response was, “Weeks and weeks, Lord.” “When was the last time she felt up to putting make up on?” “Weeks and Weeks”, came my response again. “How about taking pictures and chatting with people on Facebook?” By now I was getting His point. I was humbled by His goodness and kindness. But most of all I was undone by His gentleness with me after I had been so ill and upset with not only Him but also the dear friend who had sent me the text in the first place. I cried tears of repentance and shame and love. I had been so busy looking for His great power demonstrated through a great miracle. I wanted to see something big and ‘super-natural’ so badly I had missed His goodness and presence in the small things He was doing all day long.

Now, when I look back at that Sunday, it is one of the days I hold most dear. Grace was right. She had it right all along. It took me a while to catch up. I just didn’t know how bad her Sunday would have been if God hadn’t shown Himself strong. The time we shared doing mother/daughter stuff that day means everything to me now. I will never forget the sight of her sitting in bed crossed-legged as Casting Crowns played, grinning ear to ear as she literally bounced with the music, her hands dancing in the air. Seeing her like that, full of hope and peace and love, is the closest picture of her in heaven I can imagine.

The last picture she posted on Facebook was from that Sunday. She was bright-eyed, hopeful and smiling, her inner beauty radiating for all to see. She died four short days later, the following Thursday morning. God is merciful and kind. By His grace, my worst day imaginable became one of the dearest and most cherished days of the last days with my Grace.

You are walking through your day, thoughts and actions skimming the surface of your mind. You are traveling 100 mph trying to get done all that needs to get accomplished for that day. Then a thought, a memory, a song, a word or a sound comes along and you are brought up short, skidding to a numbing stop. And, it is like an anchor drops and takes your heart with it into the depths of loss and pain…. Everyone who has lost someone they love deeply knows of what I am speaking. The pain is immeasurable and the loss literally and entirely unspeakable.

It is these times the Father reminds me of the Rainbow. Not the fact of why there is a rainbow, for we all know after every storm comes the rainbow. (It has become a cliché for looking for the “bright” side of things.) No, nothing mundane like that at all comes from our Father. What He gently reminds me is about His nature. What is reveled through the giving of the rainbow as a sign of His covenant with us.

If you were to ask me what the sign of His covenant should be, I would be answering things like-Great Lightening or Deep Thundering or Massive Wind or the like. But, my sign would end up looking a great deal like the storm. What He is showing me is what is available after the storm. He is revealing His nature and I am being comforted.

He chose the rainbow. You have to look up after the storm to see the rainbow. Rainbows bring delight. No one, not even children, are afraid of the rainbow. Rainbows are beautiful and delicate and bold. And you have to position yourself just right to behold its wonder.

I must not forget to look up and beyond my circumstances throughout my day. Lift up my head and delight in the things around me and delight in my Father. He is a good Father who loves deeply and knows the hurt and destruction storms bring. That is why He is not only there with me through the storm to bring peace but why He sets as a reminder of Himself after the storm. Many chase the rainbow, but can never reach it. Just as the rainbow is unattainable, so are His promises of peace, hope, and comfort if that is what I am chasing. Only in Him will I find His promise of a future and a hope. I must run to Him. He can be found. He wants to be found. And, He desires to pour His love over my hurt and affliction. That is the beauty of His nature captured in the rainbow.

At 5:33 this morning Grace began living at the highest level!!! She was a warrior every step of the way. She had a kindness that only grew as the days passed and she gave glory to the Father every step of the way.

Who better to say it than Grace herself. During her last stay at the hospital while she could hardly text she woke up at 5:00 am one morning and wrote the following to The Lord…

A note from me …
I wanna thank you..
For giving me your strength,
for giving me your hope.
I wanna thank you..
For giving me your peace,
and for each and everyday!
* If I didn’t have you, I would never get through. *
I wanna thank you..
For giving me your word,
for giving me your sight.
I wanna thank you..
For giving me your forgiveness,
And just for simply EVERYTHING!
*If I didn’t have you, I would never make it through.*
..So I say..
Thank you!!

Grace truly lived!!!

We love you baby!!

We reported that Thursday Grace received her miracle, and she continues to walk it out step by step.

Grace remained in constant pain from Saturday night till last night (Tuesday night). So much pain that she stopped eating and drinking again. Since Thursday her belly has not hurt only her back. Sunday night and Monday night she hurt so badly, she “slept” sitting upright in bed …leaning on her knees. She found some comfort in that position while rocking back and forth.

In case you were wondering what a miracle looks like, it looks like Grace!! She is walking her miracle out step by step in patience. While I was asking God what her miracle would look like days before, He showed me the Holy Conception of Mary. The Holy Spirit came upon Mary and she became pregnant. She probably didn’t feel any different. Or, in that instant, look any different. Like most women, she had to wait and watch for the signs of becoming pregnant. 28 days……In the same sense, the seed of miracle has been planted in Grace. Little has changed in the natural since Thursday. Grace still hurts, still is throwing up, still is drinking little and eating even less. However, she is not moved. (Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord. Luke 1:45) The seed is planted and she is waiting on her harvest with patience.

We were blessed as Dalton Opala, leader of the Uganda Thunder Children’s Choir, came by earlier today to express his faith and pray for Grace. We had a great time together as he prayed and the choir sang via his cell phone! What an awesome man of faith.

We explained to him where we believe Grace to be and will share with you as well so you can pray effectively on her behalf. Here is a visual of what we believe.

Grace is still in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Though she has passed the deepest part of the valley she is not out yet. As she is turning out of the valley to climb her mountain, the Enemy has grabbed the back of her pants around the waistband and does not want to let go. (Hence all the intense back pain!) His arm is like an elastic rubber band and a tug of war has begun. Although he has a hold on Grace, he cannot hold her. She is in the hand of the Lord and the enemy has to let go. I am reminded of the truths I rehearsed in the beginning months of our journey. “I do not believe in “Que sera,sera”…”whatever will be, will be.” I believe God has called His sons to accomplish His will on Earth as it is in Heaven!” I believe we have to work for it. It does not just happen. I believe in faith works. That is where Grace has been this entire journey. Works of faith. And that is how she wishes to continue. So we continue to stand with her. Right now Grace is weak in her body. So, we, the strong, stand in the gap for her and battle till the Enemy releases her!!

Thank you all for your support. I was brought to tears with all the porch lights that burn in honor of Grace to say, “We remember you Grace and we are praying!” I am overwhelmed by the overflow of love everyone is pouring out over us. We are blessed beyond measure! Because of the outpouring, we are currently limiting Grace’s visitors so she can get some much-needed rest. Thank you for understanding and continuing to pray. God bless!!

I could continuously say thank you for days and days but never say thank you enough to cover all the goodness and kindness we have experienced from this community, our family, friends and communities beyond! Eric and I are grateful beyond measure! Thank YOU!!

And, I could boast of Grace for days on end and never say all she is! …Grace continues to struggle for life but she is fighting so well. She still exudes nothing but grace, peace and confidence in her faith and in her God. It is humbling and inspiring to watch her faith in action! She is not lying in her bed, moaning and groaning, expecting God just to hand her a miracle. She is doing her part, even to her own hurt. She continues to throw-up but tries to drink and eat what she can, although it is very little. Certainly, it is not enough to sustain life. But, knowing the pain and nausea eating or drinking will cause, she still continues to do her part with a smile on her face and over-whelming kindness in her heart. Simply amazing!

She knows the tumors continue to grow, so much that she looks like she’s a few months pregnant but she is anchored in the fact she knows she will be healed. As I talked to her yesterday and told her how much I know her Heavenly Father is proud of her, how I know He is looking at her with a smile on His face because of her faith, tears streamed down my face. She asked, “Why are you crying Mama?” That is a very good question. I am overwhelmed with the love of my daughter, how proud I am of her, how pitiful her body looks but how strong her faith is. I have talked to my Father and confessed my weakness of not understanding her pain and suffering and wanting to be frustrated. But in an instant, when I thought of Grace and the goodness and love for her Father (with never and complaint or frustration in her heart or on her lips) I had to repent and simply ask, “Father, let me see like Grace sees!” And to His nature, His goodness shone down on me and I was lifted up in praise to the One who created Grace and loves her more than Eric or I possibly could. Sometimes it’s easy to inspire the ones who do not live with you. The ones who do not see the good, bad and ugly of behind closed doors. But let me be the first one to say, from one who lives with Grace and watches her constantly, she inspires me!

I talked with Grace Monday about her fight to live and where it comes from. The last thing I want is for her to be fighting for me or Eric. But she assured me she is fighting for her life because that is what is in her heart to do. She believes she has purpose here on this Earth yet to be fulfilled. Yesterday, she caught my arm as she teetered between waking and sleep, with groggy eyes she said, “For my 21st birthday I want me and a group of my friends to go to Panama City Beach!” I told her that sounded like a fun trip, sorry I was not invited! She mentioned it again before the night was over. While Grace sees the declining condition of her natural body, (she confessed in the wee hours of the morning after several bouts of throwing up and hurting that she knew her physical body was wearing out), she continues to believe she will be healed. We continue to stand with her! Thank you all for your continued prayers and constant expectation for what is to come! We do not live by what our natural eye sees but by the proceeding Word of God! God Bless You!

(What I received yesterday- Grace’s life is not being stolen by the Enemy. Grace is being held in the palm of her Father. She placed herself in God’s hand. She has given her life to Him. She is not in the hand of the Enemy. Her life is not taken, it is given. What the Father chooses to do with her is between Him and Grace. Grace does not belong to me and Eric. We are just His stewards. She belongs to Him. Our hearts have to remain at peace with what He chooses. If He holds her close and He chooses not release her and carry her on to be with Him, we will rejoice. If He holds her close and chooses to release her back to us, we will rejoice! To God be the Glory!)

Never the less, the preceding Word of God we keep hearing is, “Live, little Girl, LIVE!”

Because it would evoke more tears than prayers, I will not post Grace’s picture at this time. It saddens my heart to report she continues to lose weight. She is working hard to eat, but sometimes she just can’t keep what little she eats down. Suffice it to say you can count every single bone in her body. The only part of her body that continues to grow is her abdomen. Her belly remains extended and swollen.

Now, for the good stuff! While her body continues to suffer, her spirit and her soul are at complete rest and peace. She remains steadfast in her faith and love of her God. She told me this morning her love of her Father has only grown since this journey began over 10 months ago. The saying goes, “Trials and tribulations do not create or build character, it only reveals the character already present.” Well, I will be the first to say as I look into the face of my daughter and see the character of her heart, I know I am looking into Heaven and I am undone! She is such a warrior! When most people her age are concerned with college, clothes and boyfriends, she is making decisions about DNR’s and living wills. But, she remains unfazed in her surety of her miracle of healing and she is not moved.

Eric and I continue to stand with her in faith. For we know that soon either her spirit will burst out of its mortal shell and she will be forever changed or the miraculous of Heaven will be birthed here on this Earth through her and she will be forever changed! Eric and I believe for the latter. We have been given the word of the Lord and on His word we continue to stand. He told us from the very beginning, “I’ve got this. Do not worry!” So, we do not look at the things which can be seen, but at the things which are not seen. Eric and I are in great expectation; we are on pins and needles and can hardly sleep, for we know her time is near! We are in anticipation and hope for what is about to happen!

I will finish up with this. I have often found it curious that Stephen, of the New Testament, saw the “Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” as he was being stoned. Most scriptures talk of Jesus being, “seated at the right hand of God” not standing. But as I was praying for Grace this morning I too saw Jesus standing. And I was reminded of what He shared with me years ago about this portion of scripture. When a parent is watching His child on the field playing, what is the first thing that happens when that child is hurt or is about to make a brilliant play? Immediately, the parent is on his feet. He is standing ready to jump into action the very second he is needed. Whether it is to help and protect or to cheer on. He is on his feet with love, concern and compassion. Well, this morning I see Jesus on His feet as He beholds His daughter, Grace. I am comforted to know Eric and I are not alone in standing. He is also standing. And I thank all of you who are standing with us! God Bless!

Wednesday a Transitional Oncologist Nurse came to our home for a visit with Grace, being that she is not taking chemo at this time, just to check in with Grace to insure all is well with her. We had a wonderful visit. During her time with us, she asked Grace if there was anything in particular she wanted to do. She understood that Grace is expecting her miracle but wondered if she never felt released to get chemo and things continued to progress negatively, what was one wish she may have. Grace tilted her head sideways and looked up and thought a minute and said, “Hhmmmm…..I don’t really know because I haven’t given it much thought”. Then she said with a smile, “I keep forgetting I’m on a deadline!” We all busted out laughing with her.

She said she wanted to go to a concert. The lady talked about Jason Aldean and of course Grace said she would love to see him.
The day didn’t pass before the very sweet nurse, Samantha Barr, called us to let us know she had procured 4 tickets to the Jason Aldean concert this Saturday in Athens. She said a limo was coming to pick Grace and her friends up and drop them off, with an overnight stay included. How awesome is that?? God sure is good!!

Grace’s belly was really extended Wednesday, but her pain has become more manageable. (Every time she needs relief she asks us to pray for her. And without fail, EVERY TIME within minutes, her pain subsides!) She asked God again Wednesday, as she looked down at her swollen belly, if it was time for chemo. His response was the same as before, “Wait. “ So she is continuing to be patient in the process but with active faith and works. (She has seen her belly shrink since Wednesday evening). Tammy is still coming by every day to lay hands on her, anoint her and pray over her. Grace is loving their time together and looks forward to this time every day. She said she would not leave tomorrow until Tammy had come by and prayed for her!!

If you think about Grace tomorrow, please thank God for His faithfulness and power and ever sustaining grace that continues to flow to our Grace. May she enjoy every second of tomorrow and be pain and nausea free as she and her friends travel to Athens for a good time!! Grace is battling hard, but she continues to battle well!!