Wishing on the Moon~

We should have done it, Handsome.  And, tonight, yes tonight, would have been the perfect night to do it.  If you would have been here, no doubt I would have asked.  And, chances are you would have said, “C’mon Baby, you know we can’t do that.  We have work tomorrow.”

And, then – you know exactly what I would have responded.

“That’s ok.  We’ll just call in.”

“And what are we going to tell them when we call in, Beautiful?”

“That’s simple.  We’ll just tell them we won’t be in today because we decided to follow the moon.”

Every single month.  Every single full moon that peeked over the mountain top. Every single time the same conversation. And every single evening when the moon shone bright and beautiful, dancing in and out of the clouds like tonight, we stayed up a little too late, and gazed a little too long, and loved every single moment basking in the moonlight together.

While we never did follow the moon until it slipped beneath the waves of the Pacific Ocean and tucked itself in, I loved dreaming about it with you, Handsome.  Just the thought made me happy.

And I can’t help thinking tonight would have made you happy.

Not because the moon was up.  Not because it was extraordinarily beautiful.  No, tonight you would have been happy because for the first time since you’ve been gone, I stepped outside and I reveled in the moon for the both of us.  I missed you to be sure – so much missing you that tears often blurred my view, but tonight, I didn’t let the moon go unnoticed like every other month without you.

And, I wished we would have done it.

I wished we would have followed the moon.

If only we could.  If only we could.


When Peace Rained Down~

I sat in the floor of the hallway, my hand doing what the rest of me wanted to do – rubbing this space of carpet where you last were, hoping so desperately to be able to touch you instead of these woven fibers. In my mind’s eye, I could see you there, and I longed to hug you, to reach my hand out to you and lift you back up to your feet.  To hold you and be held by you.  To bury my head in your neck and be engulfed by your scent and wrapped in your arms.

But instead, I found myself alone with carpet, an empty doorway leading to the bathroom, and a whole lot of questions and a heart spilling over with wishes.  And, I cried.  And, then I moaned.  And, then my sorrow turned to out loud wailing.  I couldn’t stop it.  How do you suppress a force stronger than the ocean?  So, I let it all out.  For the umpteenth time since you’ve been gone, Handsome, I sat where you were last and I wept til I could hardly breathe.

Only today, Handsome, I didn’t weep alone.  As I surrendered to the weight of my missing you and rolled off of my knees onto my back, looking up at the ceiling, I heard it.  Sprinkled in with my sobs, I could hear the pitter-patter of rain drops on the skylight in the bathroom.  And, I knew down in the deepest place of my heart, this wasn’t a brief afternoon shower, this was the very God of Heaven weeping with me.

It brought me to my feet and straight out to the patio.  As the droplets fell from the sky, so did my tears.  For the first time since you’ve been gone, God and I cried together.  His sorrow not removed from my own, but right there in the hallway and right there on the patio with me.

And I remembered the story of Lazarus and the tears God wept then.  Not tears because He was supposedly too late and Lazarus was dead, but tears that flowed from a heart overcome with the sorrow spilling out of the hearts of Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha.  The very same God who knew in the next few moments Lazarus would walk in newness of life wept tears with those who wept.  He was touched by their sorrow.  And tonight – like I’m sure every moment since you’ve been gone, God was touched by my sorrow.  I know because my spirit  – which is home to His Spirit in me – testified to this very fact.

And the comfort that came as my tears intermingled with these droplets of Heaven can not be explained.  There is not a word in this world to capture the moment, to describe the communion, to adequately convey the immersion of my sorrow into His and His into mine.

The Most High God came to me in my most low moment and wept with me.  Not tears because He was supposedly too late and you are gone, but tears that flowed from a heart overcome with the sorrow spilling out of my heart.  The very same God who knows in the blink of an eye this life will be over and we will be together face to face for all eternity wept tears with me while I wept.

Our creator God, the very one who bent low and scooped dust in His hands to form the first man, remembered I am dust.  The Breath of Life, the very one who breathed into each of us the breath of life, knew how sorrow and death and separation from you makes taking my next breath feel impossible sometimes.  Our Abba Daddy, the very one who loves me with a love that knows no end, who understands my heart like no one else, and who understands the true extent and depth of my grief, felt my overwhelming sorrow.

He remembered.

He knew.

He felt.

And, He wept with me.

And then, the great I am, oh so gently, and yet, oh so very powerfully, reminded me of this truth:

Resurrection and Life 2-

And, as the raindrops and the tears flowed down my cheeks, my praise flowed upward and outward from a heart overflowing with hope and thanksgiving.  They met in the middle – sorrow and praise, grief and thanksgiving – and out of their union, peace rained down.

Beautiful peace.

Not the peace the world gives, but the peace that can only be found in the blessed hope we have in and through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

What a precious moment.  What a precious Savior.

If only you could have been here to feel it.  If only you could.

Free to Live~

I missed you yelling at me today.  And honestly Handsome, you would have had every reason to.  Not the kind of  yelling most people think of  when they think of yelling, but your kind of yelling, the yelling  that came from a place of concern, not anger.

“Really, Beautiful?! C’mon Stac. (You didn’t call me Stac often, but when you did, it always seemed to fit the occasion.) You know you can’t add oil to the car and not put the oil cap back on?  Oil is going to go everywhere, just like it did.  What were you thinking, Beautiful?  C’mon Baby, you can’t be doing things like that?”

I could hear you.  Word. for. word.  I knew what you would say if you would have been here to say it. And, yet – in my defense, if you would have been here, none of this would have happened:

Oil dripping from every square inch of everyplace that is under the hood of our car.  Oil lakes (not puddles) on the floor of our garage.  Texts between me and my two sisters to figure out what to do next.  Tears running down my hot, sweaty, oily cheeks.  Me at the carwash degreasing and cleaning the engine.  Me pouring kitty litter into the oil lakes in our garage.  Me thanking my sisters for their advice.  Tears still running down my hot, sweaty, oily cheeks.

Five months today.  And, while others are celebrating the 4th of July with fireworks, I started my day off with yet another reminder that you aren’t here.

Not here.  I don’t think I am ever going to get used to that.  And each time a reminder hits me, it knocks me completely off my feet, completely on my back, completely down for the count.

It’s not that oil all over the place is a big deal, because in reality it isn’t.  Messy, yes. Frustrating, yes. Embarrasing, yes.  But, a big deal, no – not really.  The overwhelming of it stems not from what is, but rather, what isn’t.

I can handle what’s here.  Like, two weeks ago when the motor on our air conditioner went out. After three days and nights of dealing with temps in the 100’s, a repairman came and fixed it. Voila. No big deal. And yet, standing in my office, crying my heart out to a co-worker, I couldn’t seem to explain to her that the air conditioner wasn’t the problem.  You not being here to take care of it was.  You not being here, period.  This was what had me standing there telling her over and over again, “I’m not this strong.  I’m not strong enough to do this.”  Not fix the air conditioner, but live without you.

And, honestly Handsome, if you would have been in my office that day, I would have heard you yelling at me then, too.  Not the yelling most people think of when they think of yelling, but your kind of yelling, the yelling  that came from a place of concern, not anger.

“Really, Beautiful?! C’mon Stac. (Stac would have fit this occasion, too.) You know you can’t give up on living just because I’m not there to live life with you. You  know you can’t keep thinking you aren’t strong enough to handle this.  If you keep this up, what’s going to happen?  What are you thinking, Beautiful?  C’mon Baby, you can’t be doing things like that?”

I could hear you.  Word. for. word.  I knew what you would say if you would have been there to say it.

And, I know it’s true.  Every word you would have said if you could.  It’s all true.  And yet, I don’t know how to move past the truth in them to the living them.  I honestly don’t, Handsome.

“C’mon, Stac. It’s not hard.  It’s really not.  Just do it, Baby.  Just get out there and live. Five months have come and gone.  Five months, Beautiful.  You know how precious each day is.  You know what a gift God gives us in each moment.  You know what God created you to do and be.  Just keep doing what you were doing.  Just keep answering His call, following His lead, and trusting His goodness.  Just keep living each day for Him, Beautiful.  Not me, but for God.  I was the one God chose for you to share life with, but He’s the one you should be living life for.  Ok, Beautiful?  Do it for Him.  And, do it for me.  I don’t want your life to end just because my time on earth did.  Ok, Baby?  C’mon Stac. Just do it. Let God’s Spirit set you free to live, truly live. Please, Beautiful. Live every moment.”

I let your words soak in.  And His words, too.

“I have come that you might have life, and have it more abundantly.” John 10:10

“Now the Lord is the Spirit. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, people are set free.” 2 Corinthians 3:17

It’s getting dark.  It’s almost time for fireworks.  If you don’t mind, Handsome, I think I’ll put this laptop away, and go drive to our favorite spot for watching them.

If only I could watch them with you.  If only I could.

spirit of the lord