tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-107583262024-03-07T01:04:14.396-06:00G R A C E ' S J O U R N A L :As I Step Heavenward...Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.comBlogger219125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-19346521924314036702017-11-10T15:43:00.000-06:002017-11-11T01:19:13.352-06:00Junior High LetterIf you've ever read my blog, you know that I've <span style="font-family: inherit;">posted all of Andrew's letter to be read posthumously. There were letters to be read the first 5 days after his death, the first year after, when my kids started kindergarten, etc. I publish them according to the occasion for which he wrote it.
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After 7 years of having no more letters to share with you, here is a letter from Andrew to A.J. Andrew's last letter to AJ was for elementary school, which I posted <a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2010/09/" target="_blank">when he entered </a><a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2010/09/" target="_blank">kindergarten</a> in 2010. I feel relieved that we made it! We made it to the next letter. </span><br />
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AJ is in 7th grade this year, which means it's time for Andrew's letter to him about Junior High.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHiSO_fINGmKqHrIVmPTdtDean87ETU03E18ZZat84lnPWPHYtxkbK6YdpU3_4tmpaTfeR6OzOc5NV8e9xaPos-MPkwYhXmRuIX6cpVxvdhMH9Mr2PZmgz_Wy0QlPZkWHZJId-SQ/s1600/PDRM0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHiSO_fINGmKqHrIVmPTdtDean87ETU03E18ZZat84lnPWPHYtxkbK6YdpU3_4tmpaTfeR6OzOc5NV8e9xaPos-MPkwYhXmRuIX6cpVxvdhMH9Mr2PZmgz_Wy0QlPZkWHZJId-SQ/s400/PDRM0031.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Wilson in Los Angeles</td></tr>
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<u>Junior High</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Dear AJ,<br />
<br />
Entering junior high is an exciting time. Things will be changing very fast so try to take a step back every now and then and see how you’ve progressed. For example, when I was in junior high I tried all sorts of new sports, I got contact lenses, and I made new sets of friends in just one year. When I look back I see how I was just trying to be cool and fit in, so I made all these quick changes in my life just to please others. I was more worried about what other people thought of me than what God thought of me, so I changed quickly on the outside to gain acceptance from my peers rather than from God.<br />
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Be careful not to walk with the wicked. They will entice you to join their crowd, but they’re actually not that cool. The cool crowd changes every couple of years anyways. The cool people in junior high won’t be cool in high school, and college, and so on. Its always just a cycle, don’t fall into the trap and waste your time. Just keep focused on pleasing God and walking in His ways.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=proverbs+1&version=CSB" target="_blank">(Insert proverbs 1 here)</a><br />
<br />
I assume mom isn’t married yet, but either way you need to be a man and take care of your mom and your sister. Always look out for your sister and gently protect her when you can. As a man you need to respect women and treat them with dignity and honor. The world will look at women with lustful passion and see only the outer beauty. God looks not at outer beauty, but at the heart. When you look at a woman do not look at her to evaluate her beauty, instead see her as God’s creation and another man’s future wife. Chasing after girls is a waste of time, and satan uses this to distract men from being leaders. Don’t fall into this trap. God will satisfy your desires in due time, just be patient and wait on Him. <br />
<br />
(Insert Proverbs here)
<br />
<br />
You’re almost an adult
now, so we’ll need to set some goals for you in the coming years. I know life has
been hard not having a father, but God has designed this to be the very best
for you.
Here are some examples
of goals:<br />
<ul>
<li>Share the gospel with a friend every few months.</li>
<li>What are your gifts? Choose some things that you want to work on and develop. </li>
<li>Try something new that you've never done before. A new sport or instrument. New activity or club? </li>
</ul>
I remember you being
very much like mom, full of passion for everything. Lots of energy. Do you
enjoy sports? Arts, dancing?
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_2090446842"><span id="goog_2090446843"></span>Share my testimony…
</a><br />
<span id="goog_2090446844"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><br />
Instruct them on Ecclesiastes and Proverbs.
Use them in family worship and read some each night.
<br />
<br />
<u><span style="font-family: inherit;">On Being a Single Mom of Big Kids</span></u><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiS6r8qacUOb9LxUWLulooHeCPGk6YqnF8IEw9jFf9-J-y_JAxf8KzDAnufCoowJJPg7aiL1LjWVYo0JNsTGNi9jIv8exFtHrdVzVlum3gO8ayp5PBZQ6_TnV3oems1iI3rd__yg/s1600/IMG_20171110_145347_130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiS6r8qacUOb9LxUWLulooHeCPGk6YqnF8IEw9jFf9-J-y_JAxf8KzDAnufCoowJJPg7aiL1LjWVYo0JNsTGNi9jIv8exFtHrdVzVlum3gO8ayp5PBZQ6_TnV3oems1iI3rd__yg/s320/IMG_20171110_145347_130.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I once read<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span>that studies show that children of single parents of the same gender tend to do just as well as those with two parents. But children who are of the opposite gender of the single parent have a harder time. AJ is a wonderful boy. As his mother, who adores him, I think he's extraordinary. The other day, we were taking a walk together chatting and even though I've known him his whole life, suddenly I was struck: Oh my gosh. He's amazing. It still fascinates me how unique each child is. Though you're the one who raised your child, they still each have their own personalities, abilities, mind, and uniqueness that God gave them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9bxP460H_YzPGp-jxxFBhePngPT7R20A1TPdwrjymnXVyeM1pv89RiKJ5UADHHwzsiMGQ2Lz4dV1ff4McUg7d-YZYXsrohsULaC1Ue2S2iT0e-OhWzOMWpSk1AjE5LDtpC_IXw/s1600/20170721_182452+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I have to say I am certainly having a harder time raising a child of the opposite gender as me. With Gracie Olivia, I can relate to every stage she's going through. I can relate to how she thinks. Often, when she doesn't know how to perfectly articulate what she's feeling and thinking, I get it. With AJ, it's no longer as simple as it was when he was 7 years old and we completely got each other. He's becoming a man and that is something that's still foreign territory to me.</span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dinner with AJ</span></u><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><u><br /></u></i>At Café Habana, the aroma of shredded pork and fried plantains danced into our noses. On Tuesday, I took AJ out for dinner just us, while Gracie Olivia was at dance. AJ has been researching the effects of radiation on the human body for a science fair. Radiation like cell phones, microwaves, etc.
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I savored my sweet drink. AJ's research sounded fascinating.
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AJ smiled at his red Shirley Temple and sipped it. "Maybe that's why Papa got cancer." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Latin music playing overhead seemed to fade. I swallowed. "I don't think so."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One of the books AJ was reading mentioned several times Motorola, the company Andrew had been a systems engineer for. Was AJ researching this because of his dad? Or was the research reminding him of his dad? I forked my gluten-free calamari.
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AJ took a bite of his Cuban sandwich. "But didn't he design and work with radio towers? What about the radiation from there?"
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Images of Andrew's beloved radio towers flashed before me. Sometimes Andrew took me hiking to see a view of all the towers on Mt. Wilson from a distance. One night he took me to the base of some towers in the Santa Monica Mountains in Southern California. I got tired standing there in the chilly dark and tried to sit on one of them, but it was too sharp. I remembered how during his college internship with Motorola, he said he was brought to the tallest building in L.A. At the top of the building, he climbed through a door where the radio tower was. There was no roof to stand on; you just leaned half your body out the door. Andrew <i>loved </i>his dream job.
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When AJ was younger, it seemed I knew his every thought and understood him completely. I didn't think he looked like his dad and he didn't particularly remind me of him. Rather than a math whiz, the bookworm had the rich eyes of a poet and spoke with precocious insight, reading people's facial expressions and emotions. But in the past year, he's begun looking like his dad. He's even started getting the same type of haircut Andrew had when I first met him, though most of the pictures AJ has of Andrew are from his shaved head years. AJ likes his hair buzzed tight, while keeping the front long. It's like his dad's preferences are just in his DNA. As AJ spoke about radio towers and used the vocabulary from his book they were the same words Andrew used to use about his job. AJ looked and sounded like his dad.
A knife twisted in my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wanted Andrew to be the one teaching his son, having these discussions with his "mini-me." I wanted AJ to learn from his dad daily what it looks like to be a godly man. <span style="font-family: inherit;">I wished AJ could be discussing radio towers with his dad and following in his dad's footsteps in character, faith, and career.
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Images of my cousin, Krystene, and I hours before Andrew's funeral flashed before me, as she had brushed pink blush onto my cheeks in my bathroom. The sun shone through the sky light onto the warm, yellow walls. Outside, bright sunshine bounced off the thick snow blanketing the Minnesota ground. Exhilarating. So painfully beautiful. All of it. Our love for each other. Our home.
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At Café Habana, a dark cloud loomed above my head. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
In Minnesota, I was 28 years old. People here outside of NYC are just starting their lives at 28. They still live at home with their parents, not even married.
I felt like I was dying at 28... Andrew died before he was 28. We already had our own home, our own family. </span></span><br />
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At the Cuban restaurant, a trombone screamed from the speakers. The bongo beat relentlessly. I felt the old cloud descending upon me. It twisted into my throat and burned my eyes.
I pressed a napkin to my cheeks. The waiter passed behind me and refilled my water.
The fog squeezed my chest, keeping me up at night. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
I have fear all the time that I won't be able to transition AJ into a man when he doesn't have a father daily in his life to look up to and model. AJ not having a dad to take him to soccer. It hurts that he's not able to observe his parents' relationship, something which gives security to children. I fear that he won't live for Jesus and worry that he probably would if he had his godly father who loved us. I think AJ probably carries with him a form of loneliness for a daily man in his life. I fear because it's really hard for AJ to look around and see everyone with their dads, while he doesn't have one.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm studying 1Peter right now with some ladies from my church. 1Peter 1 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. I cling to it, because it helps me to battle my fears. That I don't have to fear, because my hope is not in a man but in God, who never fails us. My joy runs parallel to my sadness. I fellowship in the present with God. His fellowship feeds me, quiets me, and gives me great joy. And 1Peter 1 reminds me of the great hope that I have even deeper fellowship ahead of me with God in eternity. </span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9bxP460H_YzPGp-jxxFBhePngPT7R20A1TPdwrjymnXVyeM1pv89RiKJ5UADHHwzsiMGQ2Lz4dV1ff4McUg7d-YZYXsrohsULaC1Ue2S2iT0e-OhWzOMWpSk1AjE5LDtpC_IXw/s1600/20170721_182452+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1600" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9bxP460H_YzPGp-jxxFBhePngPT7R20A1TPdwrjymnXVyeM1pv89RiKJ5UADHHwzsiMGQ2Lz4dV1ff4McUg7d-YZYXsrohsULaC1Ue2S2iT0e-OhWzOMWpSk1AjE5LDtpC_IXw/s320/20170721_182452+%25282%2529.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AJ and I at a Red Bulls soccer game</td></tr>
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<b></b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have to pray pray pray that God will meet AJ in all these areas of need. God promises that He is a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to the husbandless. Please also pray for us!
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
After we got home from our dinner at Café Habana, AJ said, "Mom, I forgot to tell you. I wanted to say thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a good time and I love you." He grinned at me.</span></span></div>
Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-28143554137421868422017-01-06T22:57:00.000-06:002018-05-16T09:53:44.658-05:0012 Things I Love about A.J. When A.J. turned 12 yesterday, he asked me what I gave to his dad for his birthdays. <br />
<br />
"Oh!" I suddenly remembered. "For his 24th birthday, I wrote your dad a list of <a href="https://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2005/09/24-things-i-love-about-andrew.html" target="_blank">24 things I loved about him.</a>" So I decided to write 12 things I love about A.J. here:<br />
<br />
1. A.J. is always thinking about other people, their needs, and how he can care for them. His grandparents actually call him when they need help with something. He'll rake and throw out the garbage for them, go with my mom to Costco and bring her groceries in. His servant-hearted tirelessness reminds me of his dad. <br />
<br />
2. He loves to cook. And when we've made a bunch of food, he'll say, "Mom, we should ask Lola and Lolo (the Filipino terms for grandma and grandpa) if they want us to bring some over. Maybe they'll want some." <br />
<br />
3. He holds the door for strangers and brightly says hello to them. They warm up to him in surprise, especially because I had just mumbled a tentative, eye-averting hello to them. <br />
<br />
4. I love how rich his eyes are.<br />
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5. I love how passionate he is about soccer. He constantly has a soccer ball between his feet, or is reading a book about soccer, is studying videos on technique or watching professional soccer on T.V.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxhE1V54DBK7QFGpesRv1EMVe9og1qEVNb97hBp0sAgfC93df-F4QWrWsJz-h0NOQ6n7Ud9ENU7lCTwMePOo7BvXdvCTRXCcrp45vjh-P-OlmjlF3cdRFhjE0Dbe3imfd8_XHUA/s1600/20160923_224728.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxhE1V54DBK7QFGpesRv1EMVe9og1qEVNb97hBp0sAgfC93df-F4QWrWsJz-h0NOQ6n7Ud9ENU7lCTwMePOo7BvXdvCTRXCcrp45vjh-P-OlmjlF3cdRFhjE0Dbe3imfd8_XHUA/s320/20160923_224728.png" width="225" /></a><br />
6. He's a really fast runner. And he is always moving. That kid's got energy. <br />
<br />
7. He talks constantly and has always been that way. It tires me out, but I love that his heart and his thoughts are never hidden from me.<br />
<br />
8. While he's very mature about caring for others, he acts very much like a kid. He loves to play with his friends. And if he starts to act up, it's usually because he needs a weekly date with his mama. He needs my undivided attention once in awhile. We'll usually do something simple like take a walk at the mall, buy a frozen yogurt, and walk around the bookstore. Then outside we'll kick the soccer ball around, while he attempts to teach me some soccer technique like a "rainbow." Or, he'll run errands with me, like at Trader Joe's. We'll walk beside the Hudson River and he chatters the whole time about past observations about animals, insects, books he's read about space, or some object he took apart (I hear that his dad was always taking things apart too when he was a kid figuring out how they worked). When I'm undistracted and able to enjoy him (and not worry about all the things we have to do and activities to drive to), in that moment I am struck: "I have the best kids on the planet! Jesus and my kids. I don't need anything else." And I sigh full with happiness. <br />
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9. He's quick to forgive. And he asks forgiveness easily. <br />
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10. He has always loved the Bible since his youngest years. He supplements our family Bible reading with his own Bible reading with very little prompting. When I asked what he liked most about youth group, which he just started this year, I thought he'd say playing with his friends. But he said, "The Bible teaching." He also started sitting through the main service this year, as Sunday School only goes up to 5th grade. When I missed the message to serve in the nursery, he later asked, "Mom, have you listened to the message yet? It was really good." I asked him what he liked about it. "Pastor Won explains the Bible in a way that I understand. And he's really funny too. He kept talking about sheep."<br />
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11. He fixes things for me. Ikea furniture? I hand it to him to figure out. The clasp on my purse that came loose? "Mom, can I fix that for you?" The moment I gave him permission, he disappeared for a plier. I walked away and later found it all fixed. I wear that purse every day now. <br />
<br />
12. He is still obsessed with turtles. This obsession has been at least since first grade, maybe even <br />
earlier than that. (In fact, his sister and I so associate A.J. with turtles, I almost think "A.J." is <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12sGNM38i1WrWHZd0CyawP4nt8u_0vpLkJjUEIsrV_vFRUodsjtn9xNoq54dxvmhIZbi88E8WwAti9a3_9f_OuqpiBh0e6Ujl0ufEIaYtjN6n1x0jnddd-SpkXB8jCA_eM73Pdw/s1600/Screenshot+%252819%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12sGNM38i1WrWHZd0CyawP4nt8u_0vpLkJjUEIsrV_vFRUodsjtn9xNoq54dxvmhIZbi88E8WwAti9a3_9f_OuqpiBh0e6Ujl0ufEIaYtjN6n1x0jnddd-SpkXB8jCA_eM73Pdw/s320/Screenshot+%252819%2529.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found this photo on my phone that A.J. recently saved</td></tr>
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synonymous with "turtle.") Perhaps it's because every spring when they were little we would watch a family of turtles sunning on the logs in the pond a few steps away from our house in Minnesota. We'd tell stories about the grandparent turtles (the 2 big ones) and parent turtles (the medium ones) and the baby turtles, as the littlest ones plopped into the water. "The grandparents are too tired to swim in the water!" Perhaps because we would watch turtles shimmy a hole into the grass on our front lawn, hide their eggs in that hole, and then carefully return the grass so that it looked identical to its original state. And now, when A.J. gives a presentation on turtles for multiple weeks (without regard for what the actual assignment is), and he makes his classmates listen to him for 10 minutes instead of the 3 minutes, I tell myself, "Well, maybe he'll get his PhD in turtles one day." <br />
<br />
I love that kid. Whether all the things above change, I love A.J. because God gave him to me, made him, and made him wonderful. <br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
As the second entry ever of this entire blog inspired this post, I found myself looking back on old posts. While in recent years I have often struggled with deep discouragement and felt so weary as a single mom, I am reminded that wow God was so <a href="https://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2008/08/bee-bee-es.html" target="_blank">faithful to my kids when we were in the depths of cancer</a> (according to one commenter back then, A.J. was an energetic runner even then). <br />
<br />
God made <a href="https://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2008/04/our-little-blessings.html" target="_blank">Our Little Blessings</a> a joy to us in the midst of the darkest days. And years later the Lord continues to be faithful to my children and I. <br />
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<br />
(If you've never read this blog before, or if you'd like to remember past posts, I've linked to three entries at the beginning and end of this blog entry about Andrew and then my kids when they were little and their parents were dealing with cancer.) Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-81419901967213292452016-05-08T21:48:00.001-05:002016-05-08T23:10:34.575-05:00Hard Mother's DaysMother's day has usually been agonizing for me ever since Andrew's death. <br />
<br />
I think it's because Andrew told me he was going to teach my kids to honor their mama on this day, just as his dad taught him to make breakfast in bed for his mom when he was a kid. <br />
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I think it's also hard because he was the only one who loved my kids as much as I love them, and we used to enjoy them so much together. But now as a single mom, it's just SO difficult. It does not get easier after all these years. It just changes. And while people try to help me, I honestly don't understand my boy's mind anymore or how to help my son become a man. <br />
<br />
I think this day also spotlights all the dashed dreams we had for what we thought would be our growing family. <br />
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I think this is the first year I've been able to articulate why Mother's Day is one of the top three triggers a year for me. Perhaps it is because my church publicly prays for those who are having a hard time today. And also because when they see my tear stained face, friends at church will gently probe and ask the uncomfortable question of what exactly is it that makes it so hard for me on this day. <br />
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I appreciate that while my church celebrates mothers, they also acknowledge those who are hurting on Mother's day. Below is a video they played this morning:<br />
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<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-75403812335280428202016-02-07T00:53:00.002-06:002020-07-21T00:10:36.398-05:007 Years and NewnessSeven years after my husband's death, I live a new life now in North Jersey, just a few minutes outside NYC. It seems appropriate that my church, Maranatha, is celebrating it's 6th anniversary on Feb. 7th. My husband died on Feb. 7, 2009, just one year before Maranatha's birth. The shared date seems like a kind of resurrection for me. When I became a Christian at 12 years old, I prayed that the Lord would provide a church that would be a family to me and <span class="text_exposed_show">that I could go to freely and serve at. When I was 18, the Lord picked me up and brought me 3,000 miles away to <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=419326264762704" href="https://www.facebook.com/GOCatUCLA/">Grace on Campus at UCLA</a>, an incredible fulfillment of 6 years of prayer. After I graduated, I lived all over the place, but always a homesickness aching in my chest. I got so used to the ache, it no longer occurred to me that moving back to NJ would do the trick. Besides, what church would I go to? But eventually, as a single mom desperate for family support, I finally did move back to NJ. And someone from Grace on Campus (GOC), though she graduated years after I did, left a comment on a blog post to visit the church plant that she and a bunch of others from GOC were a part of. This church embraced me from day 1 and cared for me as if I were family. This church was 15 minutes away from the house that I grew up praying since I was 12 years old for a church family. I finally feel more at home than I ever have in my life. The homesick ache is finally gone. I finally live near my family and have a church that is my family as well. I remember I wrote in a survey in college that my dream place to live would be where my family and Grace on Campus were in the same place. I have never experienced such a deep sense of community since Grace on Campus until I came to Maranatha. It is amazing to me that the Lord made what seemed only existed in a fantasy so many years ago a real place, though I had nothing to do with it coming about. My family and my church family are now only 15 minutes apart. </span><br />
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I wish everyone who knows me now could have known Andrew, the person who shaped me and taught me so much. I wish they could have known the father of my kids, who together with me laughed at and enjoyed them when they were little (not my size) and irresistibly adorable. <br />
So at the very least, I'd like to share this three minute video of us back when the sun was shining down on us. When the world was all as it should be. Blessed be the name of the Lord.<br />
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A video of my interior world for the first year after Andrew died:<br />
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I've lived so many places now. At GOC, I fell in love with Andrew Mark. That was the last place I felt like people knew us as individuals. In WA we were the newlyweds. And then in Minnesota, we were the family with the young husband who has tongue cancer. And then I was known as the sad young widow. Now back in NJ, at my church (of 1.5 years), they know me simply as Grace. She has two kids who are pretty much as big as her. But she's just one of us, or so the twenty-somethings treat me. It's funny, here in the Northeast, 80 percent of NYC is single. People's priority is their career. They get married much later. So the idea that in other parts of the country (such as the Pacific Northwest or the Midwest), people might have 3 kids and a mortgage by the time they're 28 years old is absolutely foreign to them. It occurred to me today that by East Coast standards, it's like I lived my thirties when I was in my twenties. And now I am living my twenties in my thirties. I hang out with my twenty-something friends in NYC while my parents watch my kids and I feel carefree, something I never really experienced post-college until I moved back here. I wanted to share with you this video that memorializes Andrew's life. I think you'll enjoy it.<br />
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This past fall, I posted a link to a letter Andrew wrote to be read posthumously. Someone from church said, "It's funny. You've lived this whole other life before you got here and we don't even really realize that about you." But I wish they could know that about me. <br />
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I love my new family at Maranatha. Tonight, two friends asked if they could come over because they wanted to be there for me on the weekend of the anniversary of Andrew's death. Earlier in the week when they kept asking me what I wanted to do this weekend I was pretty unresponsive. I didn't know if I wanted to do anything. The pain has blunted. (Although being a single mom is just as agonizing as being a single mom is. The pain of raising my kids without a loving dad continues to be awful.) But they continued to pursue me. And they said, "Well, if it's okay with you, we're picking up dinner and coming over." <br />
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After a yummy meal, they let me show them videos of my life with Andrew. I wish everyone at Maranatha could have known Andrew Mark. They would have loved him, as those of you who knew him did. They would have known him as one of the most humble men with a pure love for Christ, who as a former prodigal son grasped the gospel better than most of the people they've ever encountered. And as a result, he was incredibly gracious, patient, and forgiving. <br />
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There are those of you who knew him before his overnight transformation, and those of you who knew him only afterwards. But I think both of those groups knew him as the guy who was always genuinely interested in the person he was talking to. His friends were creative and interesting in every variety. He was always curious about each of them and the things that excited them. I wish those of you who know me now, could have known the person who, other than my mom, impacted me more than anyone. Who shaped me and taught me so much of what I know. I share this video below not because I haven't moved on with my life. I absolutely have. But Andrew, the father of my children, was a huge part of my life and why I am who I am today. Just as I would never forget my family, who shaped me, I will never forget Andrew. I will always be grateful to God for our six years (5 years married) together. And I think I might always want to share him with everyone, because if he was here, he'd be greatly impacting you today. By continuing to share about him, I think he will still sharpen you in your love for Christ and the gospel more. In this video, I made all the cuts according to the lyrics in the music--the music is so appropriate in retrospect. This is the original post for this video that explains the video more: <br />
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http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-since-that-day.html<br />
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If you'd like to watch his memorial service, it is here: <br />
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http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2011/02/two-year-anniversary-of-andrews-death.html
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Love, Grace <br />
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<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-43985903602720862362015-09-11T22:43:00.002-05:002015-09-11T23:16:09.241-05:00Andrew's 34th Birthday<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Today Andrew would have turned 34 years old. Rather than sad, I'm usually thankful for Andrew's birth on this day. I find myself eating Vietnamese food. Probably because Andrew and I used to get pho on date nights when the kids were babies. It used to cost us $13 total in Everett, WA. So today we got pho again. It hit the spot. I felt just fine. Then I went home, sat in a bath tub, and cried my eyes out.</div>
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This morning, I met another young widow. <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">She unexpectedly lost her husband over a year ago. She has one little boy. </span><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">I've met a lot of young widows </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;">over the years. One thing I see in them is the grace of God sustaining them.</span><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"> And though it's unimaginably difficult to be a single mom, she smiled through tears and said, "But we do not grieve as those who have no hope" (1 Thess. 4:13).</span></div>
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Tonight at small group we sang a praise song. And I thought, "I wish Andrew was here so I could sing this with him." And then I thought, "I am singing this with him. Except he's standing before Jesus doing this!"</div>
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Sometimes before bed, 9 year old Gracie Olivia sits up in bed and looks at me. "I just wish I could remember <i>something</i> about my dad!" She was 2 when her father died. "But the one thing I do remember is that I loved him with all my heart." She bursts into tears when she says this, usually once a year out of nowhere. It's a sad cry that I never hear her cry except when she thinks about her dad. I hold her and we cry together. Then we watch videos of her dad from our blog together. After this happened again last month, we took a walk, my arm wrapped around her shoulders, her arm wrapped around my waste. She said, “I’m happy. I mean, I’m not happy that papa died--I’ll never be happy that papa died--but I’m happy that you watched videos with me of him.”</div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">AJ still shares with me memories of his dad. He was four when his dad died. AJ grieved for a few years. He's okay now. But it has never been easy for AJ to not have a dad or to not have anyone to teach him how to be a man every day. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Tomorrow Andrew will be re-buried in Princeton, NJ. (His parents, who also live in NJ, asked if they could move him from MN). In light of that and that it's Andrew’s birthday today on September 11th, I thought I’d re-share the letter he wrote for us to read at his funeral. I hope it blesses you </span></div>
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<a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2009/02/funeralblog-letter-after-passing.html" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/…/funeralblog-letter-after-…</a></div>
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Love,<br />
Grace</div>
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Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-83830038569278829372015-08-17T22:12:00.000-05:002015-08-17T22:55:05.691-05:00My First Publication!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiJeXLgd1NgZxHjgYlpnLXZ6mr3oXrpubGztnwNpR9oC2wEAgHn_D1pOCGBAlGQpfi9_nZJLlxaMvIIa_l5-_8uPsThsowqFsxXEhqe66Zd1ZYFm7WBL3b_fdFfRDrFNAPlvbhw/s1600/IMG_1220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuiJeXLgd1NgZxHjgYlpnLXZ6mr3oXrpubGztnwNpR9oC2wEAgHn_D1pOCGBAlGQpfi9_nZJLlxaMvIIa_l5-_8uPsThsowqFsxXEhqe66Zd1ZYFm7WBL3b_fdFfRDrFNAPlvbhw/s200/IMG_1220.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKbMRWfSqtERTaPMOyPf2t9y8dPBYfgA-UExllCFLTEKDfn5SIE7lQfr1iOpNgjjdNNaBKAbe7U_7dsQtdCNzMafhILrhasxqi7aivE0KcdZ2K4661MF4r_zQ4nqO_rgApJ5JGw/s1600/IMG_1200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKbMRWfSqtERTaPMOyPf2t9y8dPBYfgA-UExllCFLTEKDfn5SIE7lQfr1iOpNgjjdNNaBKAbe7U_7dsQtdCNzMafhILrhasxqi7aivE0KcdZ2K4661MF4r_zQ4nqO_rgApJ5JGw/s320/IMG_1200.JPG" /></a>AHHHhhh!!!!! My first publication ever!!!<br />
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I have wanted to be published my whole life. When my kids were babies and I only had 45 minutes a morning to write, and I was too scared to dream anymore, Andrew kept telling me (and I later found in his journals) that he really believed that I should be published one day. And this is my first step in the publishing world! My short story--a true story--just came out!
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Two months after Andrew died, my purse was stolen on a trip to Florida. Read about how God was a Husband to the husbandless and my miraculous encounter with my thieves in my short story, "A Bible for a Thief."<br />
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My story is included in James Stuart Bell's Anthology, <i>Encountering Jesus</i> (published by Baker/Bethany House). Buy your paper or digital copy of the book at <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/encountering-je%E2%80%A6/1120581723%E2%80%A6">Barnes and Noble </a>
or
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Encountering-Jesus-Moder%E2%80%A6/%E2%80%A6/0764212796">Amazon</a>.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-32342362643117316002014-02-07T14:20:00.001-06:002014-02-07T15:28:20.928-06:00Five YearsThis is a big anniversary—5 years since Andrew went home to be with the Lord. This means I have been widowed for as many years as I was married to Andrew. Normally, this time of year, a heavy fog smothers me.<br />
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My friend, who was a young widow, told me that it took her five years to feel normal again. I was fearful that this would not happen for me. But it turns out, for the first time, I am okay on February 7th.<br />
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I made sure to be home in America at least a week in advance of the anniversary. It's important to me to slow down and remember him on this day. But maybe it helped that I wasn’t in the country during the weeks leading up to now. Or maybe it’s because last year the month preceding the 4th anniversary was horrible. Maybe all that sadness got out of my system then.<br />
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Sometimes, I’ve heard families talk about a beloved father who passed away years ago. They do not pretend he never existed or that he didn’t raise and nurture them. They speak lovingly and wistfully. When you lose your husband, it’s similar. My love for Andrew didn’t die when he died. I will always love Andrew and I will always miss him. And just because pain may come with his memory, I will never pretend he didn’t exist or that I didn’t live that portion of my life with him. That would not honor his memory. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want your loved ones to pretend you didn’t exist either when you die.<br />
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I may not talk about him as often, because remembering the loss of him may always be painful. I may not live my life in reference to Andrew anymore. But when I do smile at the good memories and talk about them, I will never apologize for it. My time with Andrew was the most alive years of my life, and I will never apologize for them. Rather, I celebrate that God gave us that time.<br />
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Also, my children are the fruit of those years, and I am grateful. They need to know they had a godly father who loved Jesus and loved them. <br />
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When Andrew Mark was 20 years old, he turned from a <a href="http://graceandrew.com/AndrewTest.htm" target="_blank">life of rebellion and living for himself</a> and fell in love with Jesus. No one could deny his overnight transformation. Something unheard of and only miraculous. Many of you witnessed this and could confirm it.<br />
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So conscious of God's forgiveness and mercy to him, he exercised the same to me and our children everyday. His life became a picture of the gospel--its power to forgive, save, and to transform.<br />
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Five years ago today, Andrew went to be with the One he loved more than anyone, more than me, more than our kids, more than this beautiful planet made by his Maker.<br />
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I loved Andrew and I always will. Always miss you, love. <br />
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<a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/p/videos.html" target="_blank">Watch videos of him</a> and check out this video of his life: <br />
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<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-36347707018685606932013-02-07T15:36:00.003-06:002013-07-19T20:25:03.974-05:00Four Years Thought I would re-share this video on the anniversary of Andrew's home-going:
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">Music by Ingrid Michaelson, <em>Sort of</em></span><br />
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And this was the message preached the day after Andrew died, Sunday, called "<a href="http://redeemerbiblechurch.com/grow/sermons/reflections_on_the_suffering_and_death_of_a_27_year-old_man" target="_blank">Reflections on the Suffering and Death of a 27 Year-Old Man</a>." Over 100,000 people came through here and listened to that message. Yes, 100,000 people. Curious yet? Or if you've already heard it, it'll benefit your soul to refresh your memory. Click <a href="http://redeemerbiblechurch.com/grow/sermons/reflections_on_the_suffering_and_death_of_a_27_year-old_man" target="_blank">here </a><a href="http://redeemerbiblechurch.com/grow/sermons/reflections_on_the_suffering_and_death_of_a_27_year-old_man"></a>Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-4125249445766430502012-12-27T15:53:00.000-06:002012-12-31T12:15:54.485-06:00Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! <div style="text-align: left;">
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! </div>
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AJ, Gracie, and I have had an eventful year. After living in Minnesota for 5 years, we sold our house and moved to New Jersey. Now, we live 9 minutes from one set of grandparents and an hour from the other set. Minnesota was a wonderful place filled with wonderful people, but also the place where we experienced the hardest time of our lives. This new start has been just what we needed.<br />
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AJ is in 2nd grade and will turn 8 years old this January.<br />
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Gracie Olivia (she’s decided to go by her middle name of “Olivia” in school) is in 1st grade. </div>
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The schools in our town of West Windsor/Princeton Junction (the town has two names. It’s weird like that in an old state like New Jersey) bus the kids to different schools throughout the town. We did not do this on purpose, but rather than the school down the street from us, the town happens to bus both the children to Dutch Neck Elementary, the same school that their father, Andrew, went to as a child.</div>
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It's been 14 years since I left North Jersey, where I was born and raised, for UCLA. After all these years, New Jersey no longer felt like home. Plus, we live an hour from old friends and my numerous relatives. But as time has passed, I’ve experienced how wonderful it is that they are a car-ride away, rather than a yearly plane ride. We do miss Minnesota’s snowy wonderland, but not the biting cold! Saying goodbye to those we love in Minnesota was hard, but AJ and Gracie say that they are so glad that we can see their grandparents all the time now. After these years of being a single mother, this makes my heart so relieved and happy. We are also making new friends here, causing it to feel more and more like home—a new home, not one of my old childhood nostalgia or yesteryear, but a new home.
Please keep in touch. And if you are in the area, we would love to see you.<br />
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With much love,<br />
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- Grace, AJ, and Gracie Olivia Mark<br />
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<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-61928590628082563962012-08-07T11:06:00.001-05:002013-11-21T11:58:50.250-06:00ChangeI've made a decision. And in the past few weeks everything has come together very quickly for this decision to be fulfilled.<br />
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The children and I are moving to New Jersey.<br />
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I do cry a lot about leaving Minnesota, which felt truly like home to me. But I am convinced that, regardless of my emotions, returning home to New Jersey is the best place for my children right now. I know their eternity is at stake and they need more than one stretched-thin mama to pour a heart full of love into them. Andrew's family adore AJ and Gracie and have that additional love to give that my kids so desperately long for and need. Also, I can see that though Andrew's parents and siblings no longer have Andrew, they do have my children as an outlet for their love and commitment to Andrew.<br />
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This has been a very difficult and emotional decision for me, as there are many of you there that I love and am terribly sad to leave. I feel, too, I am saying goodbye to Andrew, at least in the way that my home is a picture of the life I thought we would have together, but cannot.<br />
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A few weeks ago, the children and I went to the apartment building I had chosen that is less than ten minutes from Andrew's parents. As I sat with the lease before me, suddenly, my brain slowed. I held the pen in my hand and stared at the line where I was to sign, but I couldn't remember the question I was about to ask the customer service woman who was helping me. I heard my breath as I inhaled and exhaled. And then images flashed before me. I saw Dr. Yueh when we met with him in his clinic. It was January 2009, after we returned from our two months of alternative treatment in California and a giant hole had opened on Andrew's neck. And Dr. Yueh said, "We have now reached the end stage of your disease."<br />
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I looked down at the lease. My throat was closing. I saw the blackness behind my eyelids with each blink. "I think I might pass out," I said.
The customer service woman ran and got me some water. I closed my eyes. It is so clear that this is what is best for the kids, I thought. It was time for me--and healthy for me--to start with a clean slate in a setting that does not continually remind me of loss, suffering, and utter disappointment. I signed the lease.<br />
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My house is all staged to sell. During my phone conversation with my real estate agent Sunday, I took a walk. <br />
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"I'm going to list your house on the market tomorrow," she said.<br />
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The air outside was hot and still.<br />
<br />
"This has got to be hard for you, Grace," she said. "Of course you might feel panic, because you thought you were going to raise your kids in this house and live with Andrew in it for always." And suddenly, she had put words to feelings. An image flashed through my mind of children playing in our yard, the sun glinting off their soft hair. <i>For always. </i>Words Andrew and I said to each other years ago during engagement whispered: "I can't live without you." My chest burned. I held my breath so that she didn't hear me holding back tears.<br />
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That night, I put the kids to bed and fell asleep. Shortly after, I awoke, not breathing, my chest tight. "Lord," I called in the dark, gasping for air. "I don't want to die yet! I'm not ready to die yet! Please don't let me die!" And then I wondered why I thought I was dying when I was now breathing. I realized I had been dreaming about the last few minutes of Andrew's life, when his family and I surrounded his hospital bed and the last minutes in which he gasped for breaths.<br />
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How strange, I thought, I don't think I ever dreamed about his death until now.<br />
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I didn't know how to tell one of the most special friends I have ever had, my neighbor Melissa, that we were moving. She is like the female version of Andrew to me--stable, rational, loving, encouraging, and so much fun. We always laughed together, she always got my humor, and she always worked to imagine herself in my position so she could understand what I was going through. Even recently, she said when her husband goes away for a few days, she always tries to imagine what it is like for me.<br />
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When Andrew first died, she'd call me every day to check on me and take the route that was past my house when she was driving, just to make sure no one had broken in or anything was awry. She hardly knew me, but she said she begged God to show her how she could serve me. She said God had given her such a heart for me. After the kids' nap, when the hollowness could have eaten me, knowing that Andrew wasn't coming home for dinner, in desperation, I'd risk slumping onto her doorstep with the kids. It was a busy time before dinner, but she would invite us in.<br />
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Weeks after Andrew's death, when the house was empty again and both Andrew's and my parents had returned to New Jersey, Melissa drove by and invited us to make snowmen. I was frozen, still unable to grasp what had happened to our family, and she was holding my hand and showing me what a normal mom--not a caregiver with a dying husband any longer--does with her children.<br />
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I always admired how capable she was, how her emotions did not overwhelm her during the day, so that she could stay on task; but how she didn't compromise caring for others for her task-list. She was rationale, but never cold, rather one of the most relational, loving people.<br />
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She tried so hard to love me and be a compassionate listener when I was most in pain, when at times I was almost in despair. It would have been so easy for her to get frustrated with me or to give up on me. I kept expecting for her to tell me to buck up, but instead, she exercised love and gentleness through it all. It couldn't have been easy for her. Other times, when I was confused or overwhelmed about anything and couldn't think through my emotions, she spoke loving words of reason and truth to me.<br />
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I saw her do it with her other friends too. When a friend was going through difficult times, she would tell me how she thinks what her friend needs most of all is for Melissa to love her through it and pray for her.<br />
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When I finally told her that we were moving, she said, "I had all these dreams of homeschooling with you down the street together next year."<br />
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"I know," I said. "I'm trying not to think about it though." I blinked the image out of my mind and tried to imagine positive images to look forward to in New Jersey.<br />
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"I guess some dreams have to die," she chuckled.<br />
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I snickered. "Yeah, some dreams just have to die. I should put that up as a sign in my house. That probably would have helped me." <br />
<br />
We laughed.<br />
<br />
I remind myself that just because I'm going to miss a lot of people and cry about all the things I love in Minnesota, it doesn't mean God isn't calling me to move back to New Jersey. Being sad to say goodbye is a natural part of moving and a good thing. Being sad means you've been blessed by special people, blessed to live in a wonderful place. And so, I have to hold onto what is clear thinking--and that is that my children need their grandparents and those that adore them in New Jersey.<br />
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Love you all.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-86409202758662753732012-07-24T09:50:00.000-05:002012-07-27T17:29:59.732-05:00Toads, Grasshoppers, and FirefliesI like for my kids to spend as much time outside as possible. Aside from how stimulating it is and how good it is for them developmentally and creatively, the sun and fresh air is the healthiest thing. I also love how much they learn from their explorations. During the school year, AJ in particular spends hours outside exploring with our next-door-neighbor, Adrien, finding various subjects to study.<br />
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This past year, the Lord often had AJ's discoveries parallel what we were studying in homeschooling. For instance, one week we got a bunch of books out on frogs and toads. And then the Lord sent a tree frog to sit on our window and croak at us two days in a row. The kids were climbing over each other to watch it on our window.
Below, AJ found a really large toad in the backyard:<br />
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There's Gracie in the background eagerly watching over her brother's shoulder.</div>
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Another week, the Lord sent two different turtles to lay their eggs before the children - one in our backyard and one in our front yard. We found the one in our front yard just as I was going out to pick up Gracie from her morning kindergarten bus stop. We were mesmerized by how deep the turtle wiggled its legs into the dirt as it dug a hole. And then how the turtle replaced the dirt and grass on top of the hole, so that you couldn't even tell that the grass had been messed with. This makes sense in terms of camouflaging the hole from predators. </div>
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For a few weeks, AJ was obsessed with studying and watching ants. So we got a couple of books on them and anywhere we were, even if we were inside a building, AJ would notice an ant and tell me what he read about ants in his library books. And as he would hold my hand as we walked to the backyard together, he would say, "Mom, have you ever noticed how the dirt around ant hills are different than regular dirt?" And he explained how the anthill bricks you see outside an anthill is dirt mixed with ants' saliva (I think?). Anyway, I love to listen to AJ explain to me all these amazing things about the world around us, even if I don't retain the infomation as well as he does =P<br />
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This week, AJ found a grasshopper. While I was in my room changing, apparently, he ascertained a water bottle, inserted the grasshopper, and I found him outside with a fork, poking holes into the foil he had covered the top of the bottle with so the bug could breath. Since we were planning a library trip for that day anyway, he then begged me to immediately take him so he could find some books to tell him what he needed to feed the grasshopper. (Don't worry. We did release the grasshopper by the end of the day.)<br />
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And in July in New Jersey, one must always catch fireflies! We caught the male ones flying around and Gracie found a couple female ones in the grass. And the fireflies lit up for each other, as we watched them before bed.<br />
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<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-21446486433574918332012-07-13T14:45:00.000-05:002012-08-10T13:06:55.655-05:00The PortraitThe other day, I was playing the Moonlight Sonata (mostly because there aren't many pieces of music I still remember) on the piano at Andrew's parents' house, where we are spending the summer. The Moonlight Sonata's notes always unfold a story to me of a man who lost his love and the agony he endures after her departure. As I played, I looked up at the family portrait hanging above the piano. It was a blown up picture of Andrew's parents with Boaz (their dog), Jon (Andrew's brother), Jen and Mike (his sister and her husband), and Andrew and our family as we sat before a glowing white background--blankness behind us.<br />
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The portrait was taken at the beginning of January 2007, days before we would fly back to Washington state, where we were living at the time, and Andrew would receive his tongue cancer diagnosis. It was days before our reality would be exploded by pain.<br />
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As I played the piano, I stared up at Gracie, sitting on grandma's lap. Gracie was nine months old at the time, in shoe-less white stockings and a dress with a black, velvet bodice and red satin skirt. Her feathery hair had only grown as long as a boy's but a little pink clip accessorized it. What a loud voice she had at the time! I would get frustrated when she'd scream, so persistent, but Andrew would say, "Maybe she'll be a singer one day." She was Andrew's girl. "She's so sweet," Andrew said. And he would hold her, nuzzle her, and she would always surprise him with a peck on his lips. She reserved those pecks on the lips for Andrew alone.<br />
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Andrew sat beside his mother. AJ, nearly two years old, stood between Andrew's legs, while Andrew held AJ's little wrist. Andrew smiled, his chin up, his mouth partially open, so characteristic of him, the flash of the camera hitting his arm, casting a glow behind him. Andrew was the only one with that glow, as if the glow would soon overtake him and he would be the only one leaving the picture.<br />
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And then I looked below the Mark family portrait at the pictures crowding the top of the upright piano. Framed pictures of AJ and Gracie as babies when our lives were sweet and typical, pictures of them as preschoolers in the frozen months after Andrew's funeral. And beside them were pictures of their little cousin, Ethan, Andrew's sister's son, who is now the same age as AJ was around the time of the family portrait. Ethan's parents call him, "little man," the same nickname we used to call AJ when he was a baby. And Andrew's sister, who looks like like she could be Andrew raised from the dead, only with long hair, smiles with her husband at Ethan like he must be the most amazing, cutest baby on the planet, just as we looked at AJ, and just as most parents look at their babies.
The Moonlight Sonata ended with its dark, lonely tones. In moments like those, I see a picture of what we lost--the four of us; a whole family, warm in love with each other.<br />
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Most of the time, I find my inner chatter whispering: "Buck up. Don't think about it. It's not that bad (...or is it worse than you'll admit?)" But in moments like those, in inconvenient moments like weddings, where that atmosphere of love and excitement saturate the air, it all rushes at me--all the hope and excitement I had felt only to end in utter disappointment. The Lord uses those times to show me what's really in my heart. And that "Buck up. Don't think about it. It can't be that bad," isn't rejoicing evermore. In fact, it's not Christian at all. But it is very American. And it is very self-reliant. After all, we are a nation that built itself from self-reliant immigrants. People who left behind their parents and cousins and grandparents in the old country to escape harsh governments and trampled economies to provide a better life for their children. America attracts people with incredible determination, who are willing to work for what they want. That is the culture a democracy like America propagates. And we take that self-reliance and apply it to our Christianity.<br />
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But in self-reliance, if we aren't honest about what we're really thinking or feeling and what's really going on in our hearts, we can't drop it all at the foot of the cross. We won't cry out to Jesus for rescue from our hopeless situations, if we convince ourselves we aren't hopeless, but can handle it all ourselves. Christianity is not an excuse for ignorance or telling ourselves just to shut up and stop using our brains.<br />
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Most of you aren't young widowed, single moms. But in reality, you are in a "hopeless" situation like me. The Lord says, "Be holy for I am holy." And He says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all your strength." And He says, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Well, have you done that perfectly today? No, none of us can even approach infinite perfection. "No one does good. Not even one." That's why we need the cross. Because only Jesus has done that perfectly. So I'm not the only one who has to lay out my hopeless--as far as it depends on ourselves--situations at the cross. We all do.<br />
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I'm still struggling. Please pray for me to hang onto what is true. To trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding.<br />
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And that the Lord would continue to meet my children as He promises that He is a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to the Husbandless.<br />
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<b>The Questions
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<br />
Since looking at our 2007 family portrait the other day, questions have been bubbling in my heart--<i>Are you really going to continue to believe this Christianity, no matter what happens to you? No matter how long you hate that your kids don't have a dad? No matter if even more difficulties occur?</i><br />
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And, <i>Do you really believe in hell? Do you really believe that people who reject Christ will experience worse than what you've experienced without even the hope of death to end it?</i><br />
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But then what immediately came to mind was, <i>I could have said 5 years ago that I didn't believe someone would be widowed, while she had two small children that adored their dad--in fact, I think I <b>didn't</b> believe God would allow that to happen to us--but that didn't stop it from happening. Being in denial, doesn't make something untrue. Just because we Americans love our air conditioners, fresh towels, and instant comfort to cushion us from the harshness of outside, doesn't mean that in many areas of the world there aren't orphans kneeling on the dirt eating grass before they starve to death. Just because we choose to be in denial of pain doesn't make pain un-real. Reality does not depend on us to believe in it.</i><br />
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We Americans, so self-absorbed in our comfort, may be afraid to ask difficult questions, may be afraid of reality, but God made reality, He's not afraid of it. He can handle our hard questions. He's the only One who can answer them. And stuffing them down doesn't mean they're not there. Those questions, though unspoken, will still flavor all the choices we make. So why not bring them to the Lord to purify and grow us in our faith?<br />
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This morning, during my private worship, I had to confess to the Lord that I felt angry and bitter. The only way for those feelings to change is for us to repent of them, so that the Lord might cleanse, purify, and change our hearts.<br />
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I often think of a couple at my old college Bible study, the Clarks, who when pipes were bursting in their home and everything was going wrong one week, they made a list entitled, "Things to Consider All Joy." And underneath they wrote down all the things that were going wrong. I also often think of how the Bible says "Give thanks in everything." So sometimes, when I'm struggling, I will make two lists. Here is mine today:<br />
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Things to Consider All Joy/"Everything" to Give Thanks in<br />
- that my kids don't have a dad to love on them and teach them all kinds of things (...This might sound silly but when AJ uses the men's restroom, I worry because I can never go in there and teach him how to use a urinal).<br />
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Things to Be Thankful for<br />
- that my kids do have a godly grandfather and uncles that adore them, who do play ball with them, though they're dad cannot<br />
- the gift that Andrew's family is to me<br />
- for the safety that I feel when I'm with them<br />
- for my children. I adore them. They are so wonderful.<br />
- though my feelings may say otherwise, the truth that He promises never to leave nor forsake me<br />
- that Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so<br />
<br />Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-92046373653471242002012-06-26T10:39:00.000-05:002012-07-15T02:27:21.122-05:00FamilyThough Andrew is gone, I am very close to his family.They still include me in everything and treat me as their own. His family has stepped in as much as they can. Unfortunately, we live very far away from them in Minnesota, while they live in New Jersey.<br />
<br />
Andrew's parents always visit us every year for Gracie's birthday. They would come for AJ's birthday in January, but we are usually visiting them in New Jersey or my parents and I are visiting my brothers in California around his birthday. In past years, sometimes my mother-in-law (I still call Andrew's family my "in-laws," as I'm not sure how else to refer to them, at least in a succinct manner. I mean, I wouldn't call them my husband-who-died's-family...I don't even think that's proper English.) would even come to our house and help for a couple weeks in the summer. But now that Lydia lives with us and can watch my house, we have been spending summers with Andrew's family in New Jersey.<br />
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All of the young widows I know, or know of, throughout the country (only a handful) returned to their parents when their husbands died. It is so incredibly difficult being a single mom, while both my parents and Andrew's parents live in New Jersey.<br />
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As I've mentioned before, I stayed in Minnesota, because Andrew told me before he died not to sell our house. At this point, it's been 3.5 years since Andrew died. Andrew and I usually moved every two years. So, I think if he were here, for all I know, we might have already moved, perhaps not outside of Minnesota, but moved nonetheless. So I think we'd be free to move to New Jersey if we chose to. It's just complicated now that we've built friendships, routines, and a life in Minnesota after sticking it out these past few years. We have neighbors my kids climb trees and look for bugs everyday with, our lake that we love to walk around, and a sense of community. I love Minnesota and how it's a great place for my kids to grow up. In fact, our town of Eden Prairie was voted by Money Magazine as the #1 place in America to live in 2010 - due to affordability, proximity to a city, community-life, etc. Minnesota feels like home.<br />
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They're such amazing children. And they should feel that by being <i>surrounded</i> by <i>tons</i> of love, not just by one stretched-thin mother. The kids' uncles and grandfather teach them about what it is to be a man, play catch with them, and treat them with love and affection. I have always longed desperately for that type of love to be a regular part of my children's lives. I long to be not the only person that loves them sacrificially and with all my heart. It unburdens my heart when I see how eager they are to hang out with my kids and that they love them nearly as much as I do.<br />
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My children's best interest is what's most important to me. Please pray for wisdom for me.<br />
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Above, Andrew's brother, Jon, is alternating between playing catch and baseball with the kids.</div>
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AJ has turned away from the game to take a picture of the sunset. </div>
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Andew's sister, Jen, stopped by with her baby, Ethan</div>
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Running from cousin Ethan</div>Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-56989535967315451902012-05-03T19:03:00.000-05:002012-10-14T03:09:30.396-05:00We Started Homeschooling! Wait, Seriously?This past January, I started homeschooling AJ. Since I only have one child in my class, it only takes a fraction of the time that first grade would normally take. So, while Gracie is in morning kindergarten at Prairie View Elementary from 9 to noon, AJ and I do school.<br />
<br />
AJ and I are loving our mornings together. It is such a blessing. I feel as if the Lord has given us back our lives.<br />
<br />
Homeschooling has definitely slowed down the revision process of my book, but I still progress with the book slowly but surely. I have to trust the Lord with His timing, and am convinced that if I maintain His priorities for my life, I can trust Him to take care of the timing of whatever He calls me to.<br />
<br />
Some people imagine as a single mom that homeschooling will add an impossible amount of work on my plate. I was nervous about that myself, but I have found it to be quite the opposite. When you have your children in school full-time, you still have the same responsibility of training your children as those who homeschool, you simply have less time to train them and at a time of day when both you and your children have already spent the bulk of your energy.<br />
<br />
I should stop to say I'm not one who thinks everyone has to homeschool. I am extremely grateful for the schools my children have attended. I believe the schools my children attended last year saved my life and was a wonderful blessing to us. Additionally, it's not my business to criticize people's school choices. After all, there is a very good reason why Jesus commands, "Do not judge lest you too be judged." There may be caveats to that passage in regards to being a discerning person and encouraging others in ways they need to honor the Lord, but I think people love to come up with far more caveats to that verse than they ever adhere to that command at all. I think the profuse caveats are often an excuse for arrogance and self-righteousness. It's amazing that in our arrogance, we can simultaneously disobey that very command while telling others everything they are doing wrong. So you won't be hearing in this post about me telling everyone to homeschool. Most of the people I know are dying to themselves every single day as they seek to honor the Lord in their parenting, regardless of what type of schooling they have chosen. As an older woman at my church has wisely said in an attempt to explain why one should live their lives before the face of God, regardless of what others think of them: "I have invested my whole life into my life. So, who is another person to walk in, see only a snapshot of my life that I've invested my whole life into and think she has anything to say." And so this post has nothing to do with others' schooling choices. It is simply an update about what I've chosen to do <i>this</i> year in the unique situation of being a young widow and single mom.<br />
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Back to homeschooling. As a single mother the past few years, I have learned my limitations and how to manage them. I am on all the time. Their dad doesn't come home at 5pm. Not ever. So there is no tag-team parenting. There is no parenting together. There is no consulting one another about how we should handle a certain parenting issue. No phone calls to him. No emails. No texts. It's just me. And it's always just me, at least humanly speaking. I may get sitters, but I'm still the only parent. I'm still the only one who has to stand before God for them. And I'm still the only one who loves them to the degree a parent loves a child. And since 4pm has always been my lowest energy time of the day, when AJ was returning home from school at 4pm, I had nothing left to give him. And so in my particular situation, I find it more restful to have parented and trained children, who feel that they have had enough of their mother's time and energy and thus feel loved. For me personally, I didn't feel I could do a sufficient job of parenting AJ after 4pm by myself. It may sound like having my son in school 7 hours a day would be a break, but it was not restful for me to be away from my son the whole day, only to feel incredibly frustrated that he was not happy and not getting the energy and parenting he needed from me.<br />
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At the same time, don't worry, I do get breaks. I still have Lydia, the college student who lives with us. She babysits 10 hours a week. And if I need more, I have another babysitter that I hire.<br />
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Our family has obviously been through a lot. And now that I have been doing better this year, I began to desire to homeschool. This is the first time since AJ was 15 months old that he gets me to himself this much. This is the first time since Gracie was 9 months old (she's 6 years old now) that my parenting has not been incredibly distracted by cancer or grief. So I am incredibly grateful that I get to be a mama - a real mama, who is so much more mentally present for my kids than I have been in a long time. I am so grateful that my children seem relatively happy and content. That's not to say that I don't still encounter grief or sadness or difficulty or frustration to distract me from them. I live with the consequences of my children's fatherlessness every single day. I experience the consequences anew of our loss every single day. But I am more emotionally here, more mentally present, than I have been in as long as I can remember.<br />
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While AJ had a wonderful school experience in half-day kindergarten last year, being at school 7 hours/day this year was just too much for the both of us. Now that AJ feels he has what he needs from me, he is so much more happy and content than he was this past fall. And he is flourishing! I praise the Lord for His Spirit's leading and His faithfulness to our family. I think His leading in this way and how he has caused this decision in our lives to bear much fruit intellectually, relationally, and many other ways, is another example of how He has been a father to the fatherless and a Husband to the husbandless.<br />
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I get to be a mama again. A present mama. The kind of mama I had longed to be, but had always been distracted from due to the horrors and turmoil of the past several years. And for that reason, I feel as if the Lord has given us back our lives.<br />
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<b>Never Met Anyone Homeschooled?</b><br />
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For some of you, homeschooling may sound completely alien. But when we lived in Washington state for 3.5 years, all of my friends homeschooled. And so from early on in my pregnancy with AJ, the desire to homeschool was already being planted and began to seem very normal.<br />
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I love homeschooling for a few reasons. One is that I've always had a passion for my children's education and instilling in them a love of learning from their first breath. And so homeschooling is really what I've been doing since their birth. This is just the first grade version now.<br />
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But I also love homeschooling because I love books. Books have always been a refuge for me. Going to a book store and being surrounded by books is refreshing to me like sitting beside the ocean.<br />
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And so we use Carol Joy Seid's curriculum, which is made up of reading real literature to teach not only reading, but science, history etc. Teaching AJ from real literature, stimulates and refreshes me, rather than wears me out. It makes me so excited!<br />
<br />
For math, Carol Joy Seid's curriculum recommends Math-U-See, which uses manipulatives to teach math concepts. Definitely a different way than I learned math as a child, but I think it is so much more effective. It also comes with DVDs that we can watch, if I prefer to use those rather than the teacher's manual.<br />
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I have to say, homeschooling has been one of my most favorite things in my life. It is up there with writing and dancing. My children are my passion. Learning and books are my passion. Teaching my children about the Lord is my passion. And homeschooling combines them all.<br />
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I'm not sure what we'll do next year yet. I get nervous that homeschooling two children will be a world of difference from homeschooling one child. It may not be simultaneously exhilarating and restful like it is right now. In which case, I have to evaluate whether such demands may exceed the limitations the Lord has given me as a human being, so that I can be a sane mama for my kids. But right now, both children are telling me they want to be homeschooled next year. We'll see how the Lord continues to lead. Please pray for wisdom for me as I seek to parent my children.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-85162242698345537482012-03-03T12:58:00.034-06:002012-03-08T14:18:37.229-06:00Three Years Since He LeftFeb. 7, 2012 marked the 3 year anniversary of Andrew's death. I bet many of you, like me, can hardly believe so much time has passed. <br />
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Grief is a funny thing. It is unpredictable and whenever you think it's been gone so long, maybe it'll forget to return, it shows up. Then, instead of a few minutes, it stays several weeks. And just when you've come to expect this unwanted guest is never leaving, you wake up one morning, and it has taken off in the middle of the night. The air is clear again and the suffocating fog it brought with it has lifted. You look out the window and you say, "Oh! that's what the sun looks like. I almost forgot." <br />
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Now that I am feeling better after a difficult month (the weeks before and after the anniversary of Andrew's death), I'm finally posting the blog I wrote about it last month:<br />
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People ask me if the holidays are difficult for me. The holidays aren't particularly difficult. But,<br />
<br />
- weddings (for some reason I still go to all of them, though inevitably they remind me of my hopeful day and how all those hopes were dashed to pieces)<br />
- the weeks surrounding Andrew's birthday/September 11th<br />
- my birthday/Mother's day, <br />
- and Andrew's death day <br />
<br />
are the difficult parts of the year for me. <br />
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The weeks leading up to the anniversary of Andrew's death were difficult and emotional for me. My Pastor Warren said that I should expect it to still be difficult for me, because anniversaries like this tug on the scar tissue. He said he always compares emotional injuries to physical injuries. So if I had been in a severe car accident three years ago and had suffered a spinal injury, I might still be in a wheelchair, still making my recovery. <br />
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Most of the time, nowadays, I know 3 years has passed. I know all the events that have passed throughout these 3 years and all that we've made it through. I know how much I've changed in the last three years. <br />
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The distance that three years has provided means all the memories I blocked out, that I couldn't face remembering the first few years, I am now able to remember. Because I've processed a lot of my grief and memories, I am now able to access the beautiful memories - I am able to be honest with myself about the profundity of my loss. I no longer have to minimize it to myself in order to cope. Strangely, the more time and distance that has passed between now and Andrew's death, the sharper the pain is when it does come. The sharper the realization is of the profundity of my loss. <br />
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And so sometimes, a beautiful memory of Andrew will fly at me all of a sudden, and my heart longs to be near him desperately, more than it ever could the first year of his death. In that moment, suddenly, I remember what it's like to be in love - though I had blocked out that remembrance the first year. Being in love almost does feel like magic - the way you feel like you belong together. A connection that goes beyond a list of things that you like about each other. It's just like you're two puzzle pieces that are <i>made</i> for each other. And in that moment, I remember that "I can't live without you," is not just a sentimental line from a movie. And in those moments, suddenly, three years have disappeared. I feel the knife stabbing my heart relentlessly and I cry out, "God, I can't do this! I'll never survive this!" <br />
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And then, it will come to mind, "Wait a second, Grace. You <i>have</i> survived this. He didn't die two weeks ago. It's been three years. You and you're children are still alive. And you are all moving on with your lives. The kids are doing well and so are you. You made it through the worst part. Obviously, you can manage as a single mother. You <i>have</i> survived this. Just keep doing what you're doing. Keep going." <br />
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Now that I am here at the 3 year marker, it is interesting to see the differences between where I am now and where I spent the first 2 years after Andrew's death. <br />
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In retrospect, that first 2 years, I lived every single day with pain. I felt like I daily was <i>managing</i> my pain. I had to "manage" my pain, because if I didn't control it and didn't pace myself, the pain was too excruciating to confront all at once. This was my way of coping. Honestly, I have only sobbed about three times since Andrew died. Yes, I did cry every single day the first year, but not uncontrollably. More like a faucet. Not a fire hose. Whatever didn't come out in tears, stayed in all my muscles. So then, I returned to my old love of dance and found some dance classes, in order to deal with the grief that was stuck in my muscles. I had heard physical activity was an important aspect of dealing with grief. In fact, until I finished the first draft of my manuscript in August, if you pressed on my shoulders, it would have literally felt like putting your finger on a hard rock. <br />
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My muscles did not release until I had laid down the burden of my memories and my story into the first draft of my book and looked the beautiful memories of our love story in the face. My muscles did not relax until I had reached the point in my grief process where I could look those memories in the face and finally grapple with them. <br />
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The way I dealt with my grief, I suppose it would be like if you were giving birth, would you want to have contractions over a few hours or over 15 minutes? Many of you might say the latter. But as someone who had a normal birth with my first-born, AJ, and an unexpected <a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2006/04/bathroom-birth-all-of-grace.html">15-minute labor with Gracie</a>, it is a terrifying thing to make all that progress in labor in only 2 major contractions. The two contractions feel like you're a bomb exploding over the course of a few minutes and you expect you are going to be splattered all over the wall in the explosion. So in my grief process, I didn't explode in a short period of time like a bomb. I had to leak the nuclear waste (my sadness) over time, so I could maintain my sanity and keep my hands moving and making sandwiches for my children at lunch time. It would have been too unbearably painful to sob uncontrollably on a normal basis. My chest would have exploded and my children would have starved. <br />
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I always imagined that I could last as a single mom on my own for 1.5 years. Then, I figured God would just have to provide some unexpected means of grace once my strength ran out. Just as my strength ran out, AJ came out of his grief. And the Lord provided Lydia, a college student from our church, to move in with us. The kids were happy - no longer grieving, which I wanted them to get through before I could check out - I had help, and I finally checked out for a year. <br />
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I am a testimony that God's grace is sufficient. I saw a movie this summer where this woman has a nervous breakdown. I had to turn it off half-way through, because her behavior in the days leading up to her breakdown reminded me too much of myself. It caused me to realize that before the Lord provided Grace Lindeman last fall and then Lydia (as I talked about in my entry, "I Grace Have Risen from the Dead"), I was probably 2 inches away from a nervous breakdown. I had no experience with such things, so I didn't know what a nervous breakdown looked like until I saw that movie. Between trying to manage the pain, not accepting I was a single mother and so still living like my husband was just on a business trip but just hadn't returned yet, I had worn myself out. Having help move in was an acceptance that Andrew was never returning. Having help move in was a realization that I had to change my life and I couldn't keep living like I only had to hold down the fort until my husband returned any day now. So I am incredibly grateful that The Lord certainly did provide the grace I needed and faithfully protected me from going over the edge into a nervous breakdown.<br />
<br />
Every year, on the anniversary of Andrew's death, I have someone take my kids for the weekend. I did this the first anniversary, because I suddenly found that there was no way I could "manage" my pain at the anniversary. I did it again the second year because since my Fall 2010 meltdown, I thought things were only getting worse, so I feared the 2 year anniversary would be even more unmanageable than the 1 year anniversary. But when I had the 2 year anniversary weekend by myself, I was able to realize the progress I had made since the 1 year anniversary. The Lord used that anniversary to show me that hitting rock bottom in the fall had been my getting worse before I got better. And I was getting better. At the 2 year anniversary, the Lord showed me He had freed me. I felt resurrected. And that was the turning point. And thus began my upward recovery. <br />
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So last winter, spring, and summer, I continued to recover. I put both the kids into school 25 hours/week. I had Lydia's help two nights a week and one Friday-Saturday a month. And I hired a babysitter an additional night of the week. I did have every morning with my kids at least for an hour or two, read the Bible to them, and did chores with them. They enjoyed our morning routine, as usual, and found security in that, as usual. They also still had time with me whenever they were home and there was no sitter. While physically I was still present, and went through the motions when the kids were around, for the most part, I completely checked out. And then, over the summer, <a href="http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2012/01/pursuit-of-publication.html">finishing the first draft of my book was a significant part of that recovery</a>. <br />
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And so, this fall, I returned to my body, so that it was no longer a moving shell, but actually contained Grace in it. <br />
<br />
"Moving on" with my life has been such a difficult thing to do, because I didn't really know what it meant to live without my life entirely in reference to Andrew. We still lived in the same house we had lived in with him. I was still surrounded by all the furniture I had chosen and/or put together with him. Everything reminded me of him. But Andrew had said to stay in our house, rather than move, after he died. Nothing changed in my life, except that he was gone. "Nothing" changed in my life, except that everything changed in my life. I had no idea what "moving on" looked like. I may have thought it was going back to how life was before Andrew. But before Andrew I was in college and had no children. This Grace is a totally different Grace than the one whose face turned red as she spoke to Andrew for the first time in that large auditorium at Rolfe 1200 after Bible study in the Fall of 2001 (His first memory of me was "red." I said that makes sense, because I was wearing a burgundy shirt and my face probably was bright red). That Grace was in the past. <br />
<br />
I can't reference the pre-grief/pre-cancer-trial-Grace in order to recognize that Grace has returned to her body. I was 26 when cancer first descended upon our household, January of 2007. I'm 31 now. Too much has happened since then. The Grace I am today is a completely different Grace even than the one that stood over Andrew's casket as he was lowered into the ground. That Grace entered the casket with him. So what would the post-Andrew me be?<br />
<br />
My personality is still the same. I still find all the same things funny, come off as shy when in a new situation, but am always dancing around while talking incessantly when I'm comfortable. My personality is still me, but the person that I am is not the same. <br />
<br />
I used to say that I was the right leg and Andrew was the left leg of the relationship. We were such extreme people, we wondered how we ever survived before we met each other. We thought we couldn't survive without each other. Andrew had said in one of his letters, "Any time you don't know what to do in a situation, just think 'what would Andrew do?'" I did that a lot the first year. And now after 3 years of having to survive without my other half, I would say I am a full person. But it is because of Andrew. Really, I am Grace/(Andrew). He is a part of me and always will be. I learned so much from him. He was the practical one, anchoring me, as I always had my head in the clouds. He was the steady one, while I was the roller coaster (which he got a kick out of). I focused on the details to the point of myopia and slow-motionness, while he loved the bigger picture and was super-efficient - he taught me to run from the car to the supermarket, instead of walking like a snail (hey, I was preoccupied with figuring out how to turn the walk into a story. The sun glinting through the trees made the leaves look like dangling coins. The beauty was distracting) as one time-saving tip. He taught me when I got to the dwindling hours of the afternoon, to consolidate the last few things on the to-do list to somehow get them all done at once, instead of leaving them to the next day(s) to finish. Like, instead of running errands at 3 different stores 15 minutes away when you only had 30 minutes left, just do the next best thing and pay $2 extra to get everything all at Walgreen's on the corner (He said, "Time is money"). <br />
<br />
But more than all those practicalities, Andrew embodied the gospel more than anyone I have ever met. I think many of you who knew him would agree with me. He grasped better than anyone what a wicked sinner he was and how gracious God was to save someone like him. We all are wicked sinners; he just grasped it better. Most of us don't want to admit just how bad we are, how we judge others, but don't see we do the same things. Even if we are moral on the outside, we won't admit to ourselves how capable we are of wickedness, the stuff that's in our hearts, even if we successfully don't show it on the outside. That humility is what gave Andrew the ability to love me so constantly, so persistently, in spite of my continual sinfulness. <br />
<br />
I would not have been able to survive as a single mom had he not taught me and demonstrated the multitude of those things first. It was the 5 year apprenticeship I had with Andrew that prepared me to live without him. He gave me my left leg.<br />
<br />
<b>The Lord's Faithfulness at The 3 Year Anniversary</b><br />
<br />
Just after Andrew and I left our UCLA fellowship group to move to Washington state, we heard a new woman had joined the fellowship group's staff. When a friend visited us in Washington and told us about this new woman, I heard she was a young widow in her late-twenties. I remember as a newlywed trying for one second to imagine what that would be like. And after that one second, I shook the idea out of my mind and said, "How horrifically unimaginable" - meaning it was too painful for me even to think for one second about it. So I didn't. <br />
<br />
After Andrew's death, as I visited friends in Los Angeles, I heard after 8 years this young widow - I'll call her "C" - had re-married. It turned out when she got re-married, C had moved to Minnesota shortly after Andrew and I had moved here (Fall of '07). I lived 35 minutes away from C, but I never met her. <br />
<br />
Finally, last spring, I emailed C. I wanted to learn from someone who had been a long-term young widow and survived. Though she had never had children with her first husband, I thought she might still be a resource. I feared she might not want to meet, since I might trigger too many hurtful memories for her. But instead, even though she was sleep-deprived, having just given birth to a second baby a couple weeks earlier, she was eager to meet right away. Since then, we've continued to get together. <br />
<br />
During our times together, I loved that rather than fearing memories of her old hurts, she had a heart for young widows. I loved that I could ask her all kinds of questions that I had always wondered. I loved how honest and open she was. I loved that I could tell her anything and rather than be surprised or judge me, she completely understood. I loved how when she spoke Biblical truths about God's faithfulness to me, she wasn't preaching to me. She wasn't being glib. She was <i>testifying</i> to what she had experienced first-hand. I loved how when she spoke those truths to me, it was in a non-condemning, non-judgmental tone. It was a gentleness that could only be the fruit of having experienced profound hurt over a long period of time.<br />
<br />
When C came to visit me a few weeks ago when I was struggling, I didn't know what I was feeling. At least if you know you're sad, you can just have a good cry and feel better. But often, I don't know what I'm feeling. And so I just feel like my insides are about to burst. Like each of my cells are a bomb. I'm unable to cry, because I'm still not convinced it's because I'm sad. Since very early on after Andrew's death, I've always been hard on myself - "You're not still sad about this are you?" I'd tell myself. But then if I'm able to talk about it with someone who has already lost a spouse, then they can validate my feelings and then I don't feel crazy. <br />
<br />
C said to me, "People often don't realize that sometimes you still feel like you've been torn in half." <br />
<br />
And I felt like, "You mean it's normal to feel that way sometimes still?" By her expressing my feelings in a sadder way than I thought I was allowed to feel - and that was if I admitted to myself that I was even sad - took off the pressure for still feeling that way. I felt relieved. <br />
<br />
And she said, "And that on those 'torn-in-half' days, you feel like you are walking through wet cement."<br />
<br />
"Yes! That's exactly it!" I said. The craziness I was feeling began to subside.<br />
<br />
The first two years after Andrew died, basic tasks were difficult. Andrew said in his letters to put one foot in front of the other. Putting one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, was like crossing an Indiana Jones rickety bridge over a vast chasm. I couldn't look down. I couldn't think about what was lost. I just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn't panic. I couldn't give up and fall off the bridge. I had to stay alive for the sake of the kids. <br />
<br />
But now that I have crossed the bridge, putting one foot in front of the other is simple. Walking is a basic task. Walking across a rickety bridge over a vast chasm is not. Rather, it is the greatest challenge of your life. When you are crossing a rickety bridge that is so long you can't see the end of it and is so long, you've forgotten that real ground exists, basic tasks like getting out of bed, making breakfast for my kids, eating a meal myself - what huge tasks they were! (Food was difficult in particular, because Andrew had not been able to eat the last 11 months of his life - and if anyone loved eating, it was Andrew. Not to mention Andrew and I got to know each other over apartment dinners with all our friends. I associated loss and stress with food). <br />
<br />
Yet day after day the Lord helped me to accomplish my tasks. But how there was no room left in my brain for other things! And how incredibly exhausting it was. While neighbors were planting gardens and having friends over for dinner, those tasks seemed like monumental impossibilities to adding to the one-foot-in-front-of the other task of now-it's-time to-make-lunch. I remembered how Andrew and I always used to have people over for dinner, not only when we were married, but before we were together. And I wondered how I ever had done such monumental impossibilities. <br />
<br />
Wondering such things, while not realizing I was not doing regular walking but one-foot-in-front-of-the-other-rickety-bridging, I added guilt to the weight of crossing the bridge. <br />
<br />
And, on top of grief making basic tasks difficult, it was so hard being a single mom, particularly of little children who had just gotten out of diapers. Pastor Warren told me that he is always telling everyone that being a single mom is the hardest job in all the world. <br />
<br />
When C arrived at my house, my cell phone rang. While I was distracted, Lydia told her which coffee shops were nearby. Normally, I never remember Dunn Brothers Coffee. While I used to like Dunn Brothers, I stopped going when Andrew died. It was down the street from the cemetery. And while I occasionally found comfort visiting Andrew's grave, I also associated the cemetery with death and sadness. And so, due to its proximity, I now associated Dunn Brothers with death and sadness. When I went to coffee with friends, I wanted to relax, not be haunted by the idea of the cemetery down the street. When I got off the phone, C said Dunn Brothers was her favorite. So we went. And as I drove, I mentioned that Andrew's grave was down the street.<br />
<br />
She said, "Maybe if we finish coffee early, we could visit Andrew's grave?" <br />
<br />
Nobody, other than family, had ever asked me that before. It had never occurred to me that that would be something I would even want. But when she said it, it sounded like it might just hit the spot. So I said, "Okay." <br />
<br />
At his grave, having her to stand beside me, and just understand, I found myself beginning to feel better. <br />
<br />
On the actual weekend before the anniversary of Andrew's death, the one in which I always send my kids to someone else's house, I usually like to be alone. I don't want the anniversary to pass me by unacknowledged without having to take the time to remember Andrew. Ignoring my grief doesn't make it go away. If anything, it makes it linger. And it makes it attack me at inopportune times. At least if I take the time to deal with it, I can have some say in the timing. I don't want the anniversary to pass me by, while I find myself distracted talking about pancakes or something with friends. But it kept coming to mind that this year, I should not be alone. I found myself only wanting to be with people who knew West Los Angeles, where Andrew and I had fallen in love. <br />
<br />
And so C came to see me again. In spite of having two small children and living 35 minutes away, C came to see me a lot during those difficult weeks. She understood what a difficult time I was having. <br />
<br />
The second person I wanted to spend time with the anniversary weekend was someone who had just moved to Minnesota - I'll call her "J." J was a freshman at our fellowship group when I was a senior at UCLA, so I did not know her very well back then. But since I was the only person she knew in Minnesota when she moved here in the Fall and her husband's job kept him away most of the time, we got together regularly. <br />
<br />
Her husband - I'll call him "K" - had just gotten a job with the Timberwolves. So on the weekend of the anniversary, after spending the afternoon together, J took me to a game. Afterwards, I finally met J's husband (he had been so busy with work, I had never met him before). They invited me out to eat with them after the game. <br />
<br />
As we sat at the restaurant, when I mentioned in passing that it was the anniversary of Andrew's death, J's husband mentioned that his mom died of cancer. J had told me this a few months before, but I had forgotten. J was very close to K's mom, even before they were married, so both J and K grieved the death of K's mother. Realizing his mom had died of cancer and at such a vulnerably young age for him (college), I sensed that it was safe to talk about Andrew, rather than needing to hold in all that I was thinking. I could be myself and uninhibited, and they would not cut me off to judge or correct me. <br />
<br />
J and K had been married for three years. Andrew and I had been married for three years before his first cancer diagnosis. I found things J and K said kept reminding me of stories of Andrew before cancer, and I found myself sharing those stories with them, as well as stories about grief and loss. It was obvious that talking about such things did not scare them, nor stories about the good 'ole days with Andrew. As I told them all about Andrew, most of the stories made me laugh and smile - something that I could not do in earlier years of grief.<br />
<br />
At the end of our conversation J said, "God answered my prayer from earlier today." She said, "I prayed that memories of Andrew, rather than make you feel sad, would cause you to smile." And those memories did make me smile. <br />
<br />
<b>How Am I in General?<br />
</b><br />
At three years, I do feel a lot better. In fact, there are many times where I will say this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I feel God has freed me so much from so many things. I'm grateful for all the ways the Lord has stretched and grown me through profound pain and all the accompanying challenges. I'm grateful that I can testify firsthand that God is and has been a Husband to the husband-less. I love the closeness with which the Lord walks with me. Honestly, I wouldn't change what I've been through for anything, because the fruit of it is worth it. <br />
<br />
So I've experienced profound pain. Even if I had experienced all of human suffering in all of history put together all in one (and obviously I haven't), compared to the glory of God, it's depth is just a pin prick. <br />
<br />
Life is short. Before we know it, we'll blink, and people will be at our funerals. Ask any 70 year old. They'll tell you they were 25 years old a second ago. In light of eternity, whether you die at 27 or 99, there's not much difference. The only thing that matters is God's glory. And in some people's lives, God gets more glory when that person dies young. David Brainerd was 27 when he died. I am eternally grateful that Jesus died at 33. So, in light of that, well, this pain, now that I'm out on the other side of it, I am able to say it was worth it. I'm grateful. <br />
<br />
I will probably always miss Andrew. And I will probably continue to write about missing him and the accompanying trials. At times, I still live with weeks-long periods of pain, such as these recent ones. During such weeks, I just know that pain is a regular part of my life and I co-exist with it, as I go about my day and my responsibilities, even if it does make basic things, like cleaning up after dinner or (not so basic things) like wrestling my manuscript into revision - like walking through wet cement. I get less done and what I do get done, I get done slower, but I get done the important things that God both calls me to and gives me the grace to do. <br />
<br />
During the first year of my grief process, at times the periods between pain was a few seconds. Sometimes, they stretched to a few minutes or a few hours, then a few days. Now, more and more time stretches between the episodes of pain. This year, there are several weeks between periods of pain. Even months between periods of deep pain, though there is always more mild intermittent pain and missing of Andrew. The fact that the time <i>between</i> pain is longer than the weeks <i>of</i> pain, means that pain is no longer the dominating emotion of my life. <br />
<br />
I wrestle with these simultaneous feelings - gratitude and relief that the Lord has rescued me in numerous ways from myself through my trials, while at the same time I still experience <i>profound</i> hurt. How does one feel grateful for pain (due to the fruit it has produced), while at the same time still cry over the pain? How does one feel one wouldn't change the past because of its fruit, while at the same time it is still so painful that all I have to offer my children is me and not me-and-Andrew. While there are times I miss him so much it could kill me?<br />
<br />
I wrestle back and forth between these two profound feelings. <i>Gratefulness</i> for the fruit of the pain. And <i>longing</i> for the past before the pain. Both legitimate. Both valid. Both real. <br />
<br />
My Pastor Warren says that Psalm 139 says, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made." He says he takes that to mean how incredibly and wonderfully complex the human being is. He said human beings are capable of feeling completely opposite feelings at the same time. Knowing that has helped me, as it takes so much of the pressure off. It means I don't have to wrestle between those opposing feelings. I can simply embrace them. <br />
<br />
I am excited for whatever the Lord has in store for me and my children in this next year. I am excited to see what God will have done at the 4 year anniversary. Andrew wrote in his letters, "Smile at the future. The best is yet to come." I smile a lot now. I love my life. I love my kids. And for the first time in years, because I'm finally happy and secure, I am excited for whatever unknown future the Lord has in store.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-70082583052370196072012-01-09T14:52:00.035-06:002012-06-10T00:55:13.505-05:00The Pursuit of Publication<b>"A <i>Writer</i>?"</b><br />
<br />
I've wanted to be a writer for most of my life. <br />
<br />
When my 2nd grade teacher entered something I had written into a regional writing contest, I won. So when a friend of my parents asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I admitted for the first time, "A writer!" <br />
<br />
He laughed at me. Like I had said something as unlikely and as impractical as declaring I wanted to be a movie star. After that, I forgot such dreams, though I continued to worship at the altar of Madeleine L'Engle, reading every one of her numerous novels I could get my hands on. On top of that, my three siblings were 15 to 7 years older than me. Their libraries became my feeding ground. In fourth grade, I read J.D. Salinger’s <i>Catcher in the Rye</i>, and proceeded to read about a book a night. Over the years, the fact that I filled journal after journal with my own scribbles meant little to me, just as I took for granted the wallpaper in the background or the armchair in the corner. <br />
<br />
When I was 17, I had the opportunity to work privately with a successful novelist, the writer-in-residence at my high school. During our weekly meetings, he would encourage me: "Perhaps this is what you should do with your life - write professionally." Just as I thought nothing of the books I consumed or notebooks I filled, I ignored what he said. He might as well have been speaking another language. I thought authors had to have two initials for a first name, or at least have a sophisticated British accent like his and that every other sentence an author spoke would unconsciously be sprinkled with metaphors to the sun setting or the moon rising. I did not think writing had anything to do with a mere mortal and a name like "Grace Uriarte." <br />
<br />
Nonetheless, all his words - though they were riddles to me - continued to echo through my mind. "A writer has nothing to do with whether or not you choose to make the door <i>red</i> or <i>blue</i>," (imagine in an eloquent, British accent), "it has to do with the <i>processes</i> of the mind." I had no idea what he was talking about. How were my processes any different than any one else's? Still, all his words from my apprenticeship with him pursued me. Over the years, I found myself watching each person, trying to understand their "processes," trying to understand what a "processes" was, and what made me different than them - why had he decided that I was "a writer?" I began to see some differences - for one, the very fact that I was watching them. I realized he had been trying to tell me that a writer is born an observer, a watcher of people, settings, details, culture - that's what provides the content, the words that overflow onto paper. <br />
<br />
My fiction teacher had said his mind was like a double-screen. One on which he saw what was happening before him, and the other on which he saw all of that translated into scenes for a novel. I realized a double-screen was happening for me as well. One on which I saw what was before my eyes and the other on which I translated it into the different parts of the narrative. Only, it wasn't fiction. Real people seemed like the most intriguing characters. I found literary things happened every day. It was just a matter of highlighting the significant, editing out the insignificant that would distract from the true meaning of the event, and knowing where it landed on the timeline of the narrative, whether it was foreshadowing, the story's complication, or the climax. Sometimes, even the real-life setting and the weather seemed to conveniently reflect the event's meaning. If something terribly sad was happening, it was raining outside, and the storm would escalate according to the sorrow. I didn't need to change the setting or weather for the sake of the story. It really happened that way in real life.<br />
<br />
Finally, Christmas break my sophomore year in college, when I was 19, I read a novel by Elizabeth Prentiss, author of the 19th century hymn "More Love to Thee." The book was called <i>Stepping Heavenward</i>, a fictional journal of a young woman. As a teenager, she is self-absorbed, shallow, and you are not convinced she is a Christian. Many readers at this point stop reading, as she is kind of annoying. Yet as her entries progress through the years, you see God continuing to grow her more and more into His image. The godly people she describes that are in her life, such as her mother and pastor, disciple you through their example and their letters she copies into her journal. <i>Wow!</i> I thought. <i>One can glorify God through fiction!</i> I could not put the book down until I finished it, barely sleeping those three days. That book changed my life. And after that, when another one of my fiction teacher's lines echoed through my mind, I cried out, "All right already! I'll be a writer!" And then, all of a sudden, his words stopped echoing. <br />
<br />
In college, call it idealistic, but rather than a stepping stone to a high-paying job, I saw my education as an end in itself. I <i>loved</i> learning. I saw my education as a gift from God. A limited period in my life when not only was it allowed to be my top priority, but my parents expected it to be my top priority. More than that, my calling at the time was to be a student. And if I wanted to glorify God, I needed to work at it with all my heart. I fell in love with my history and political theory classes. Exhilarated by seeing God's sovereign hand as He wrote <i>His</i> Story of the world. My old fiction teacher had always said that one did not have to major in English in order to be a writer. So I majored in history and minored in political theory. <br />
<br />
After I graduated from UCLA, I was accepted into a graduate writing program at the University of Southern California (USC), but I deferred a year. During that year, so much changed - most of all, I began dating Andrew. And so when I finally did start the writing program, two weeks into my first semester at USC, Andrew asked me to marry him. At the end of my first semester in graduate school, Andrew completed his last semester at UCLA, we got married, and Motorola moved us to Washington. <br />
<br />
<b>How Will I Ever Write Again?</b><br />
<br />
We spent the first three months of our marriage travelling and living out of a suitcase - I loved it! And instead of writing, Andrew's ear became my notebook. Then, two weeks after we settled into Washington, I found out I was pregnant. I was so sick during that pregnancy, I could barely walk down the hall. For the first time in my life, I could not write a thing in my notebooks. For the first time in my life, I had writer's block. I wondered at that time what the Lord had in store with writing. Andrew and I hoped to have many children. Yet, even if the writer's block ever ended, how would I write if I was constantly sick with pregnancy and caring for children? <br />
<br />
During that pregnancy, I volunteered at an art gallery in town. One day, I was assigned to watch the desk with a local artist. As we sat, she showed me beautiful black and white childhood photographs of the six children she had just finished raising. She told me she was a Christian and told me about her 21 year old son that had died in a car accident the year before. I don't remember the details of what she said, but I remembered how she smiled through tears and the peace that emanated from her when she spoke of him. She told me that while she homeschooled and raised her children, she did not have the time to work on her art, but that how important children were to Jesus. So she trusted Him and prioritized her children above her career. <br />
<br />
She said maybe once a year, when she could not take not doing art anymore, she might work through the middle of the night and complete a painting then. Then she said, "But you know what? At the end of 20 years, I had 20 paintings. And my friend who left her family to do art, never completed anything, because her circumstances were never 'ideal' enough to do her art. And now that my children are grown, I can paint all day long. As much as I want to." <br />
<br />
As I observed her art in the gallery and displayed at various local businesses and homes, I saw how she had used many of those beautiful photographs she had taken of her children growing up and enjoying each other as the inspiration for much of her art. Though she painted timeless pictures of children in 19th century settings and clothing, she had copied her children's faces and expressions from their photographs as she painted. <br />
<br />
I was too sick to volunteer many more times at the art gallery. And that was the only time I ever saw that woman. I don't remember her name, and I probably would not even recognize her if I saw her again. But, as my children were born, and I was exhausted with two little ones in diapers and no minutes to write for months at a time, I thought often of how that woman trusted the Lord throughout those many years of raising her children. I thought of how her one painting a year accumulated into 20 paintings. And some months, I did write 45 minutes a day three times a week. And when Andrew did radiation 30 minutes a day his first time through cancer, while I sat in the waiting room, I wrote fiction during those 30 minute periods. I believe the Lord used those little moments as one of the means to sustain me at that time.<br />
<br />
During my marriage to Andrew, I never completed the novel I began my first and only semester in graduate school. Even while we were dating, Andrew would often talk to me about my writing. And I would always say, "Well, what if it's not the Lord's will that I ever publish a book?" I knew at the back of my mind, though, that unless I committed to finishing and publishing a book, I never would. All the writing books that caught my eye at the library or book stores that I skimmed always said the difference between someone published and someone not published is merely persistence. Throughout the years, I always read how various classics had been rejected by 45 or 60 or 90 publishers before they were ever published. And that is why I always responded with doubt when Andrew talked to me about publishing. I knew that even if I accumulated pages while raising my children, I could not commit to pursuing literary agents or publishing companies, especially not through countless rejections. I knew that committing to the goal of completing a book and publishing it meant committing to rejection with never the promise of publication. When I see actors on TV who played bit roles for 20 years and only now have a regular paying job as an actor, I wonder how they knew to persevere. <br />
<br />
My high school fiction teacher, as well as all those books on writing, told me that self-doubt is a reality of a writer's life. A writer cannot help but write, and thus cannot help but persist through the self-doubt. Even though I often doubted I would ever get around to finishing writing a book, Andrew kept insisting I one day would have to publish. After he died, I read throughout his journals again of this insistence. And a few months after that, I discovered a letter in our file cabinet that I've shared on this blog before, where he mentioned one last time to "publish our book." When he wrote that letter, "our book" wasn't written yet. "Our book" was up to me to define. But those words that he wrote - typed in black on that crisp, white paper - give me the resolve to one day publish. He's not here for me to say, "What if I can't?" That black type stands immovable on that white paper. I cannot argue with it. And so, I simply say, "I must." <br />
<br />
<b>The Process of Writing "Our Book"</b><br />
<br />
This summer, the children and I spent in New Jersey. We stayed with Andrew's parents, because his mom does not work outside the home and she could help me with the kids. Because of that, for the first time in my life, I wrote full-time. I was desperate to write and finish "our book," knowing it would be the only opportunity I would have this much help with the kids. I was desperate to take all my memories out of my purse and put them into a book, so that it could rest on a shelf. So that I wouldn't have to carry all those memories everywhere, weighing heavily on my shoulder, but could still access them anytime I wanted. I felt I needed to do this in order to be freed from the burden of my past, to move on with my life, and to give myself more fully to my children. <br />
<br />
So this summer, I wrote up to seven days a week, 10-12 hours most days. I had never written an entire book before. If I wasn't actually writing, then I was trying to learn, trying to figure out how one even crafts a book in the first place. Some days I was trying to learn, <i>Where does one go when one hits a brick wall?</i> I read an extremely helpful book, <i>Your Book Starts Here</i>, by Mary Carol Moore. I read other memoirs and novels, looking for examples of how they handled certain techniques. <br />
<br />
I didn't care about the number of words - except that it was tight enough to be less than 250 pages. Obviously I can write endless words (as evidenced by the seven years of verbosity on this blog), but crafting a narrative, making all the big picture decisions was a whole new level. It was irrelevant if I hit 250 pages, but had not created the experience that I envisioned. Regardless of how many pages I did or didn't write, I only cared that I accomplished a particular journey. <br />
<br />
This book was completely new. It was not the blog. It was our love story and the untold details of our cancer trial. <br />
<br />
There were many times I wanted to give up. But committing to writing a book is like committing to marriage. Some days aren't good, but a marriage won't work without full commitment. <i>What if I'm wasting my time? What if I never finish the book?</i> Yet the Lord continued to lead me through it. He continued to allow me to persevere. And by my deadline, after seven weeks of summer full-time writing, I finished the first draft! <br />
<br />
With the first draft out of my mind and onto paper, when I awoke the next morning, I felt as if I had emerged from a fog, even though I had been in this fog for so many years - ever since the endless days of losing Andrew little by little during the endless months and years of cancer - that I didn't even know I had been in a fog until I emerged from it. My memories no longer weighed on my shoulders. They were crafted into a narrative on paper.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-56373271640554182632011-11-02T16:04:00.096-05:002011-11-23T10:44:35.336-06:00Do You Need Someone to Give You Your Worth?I suppose since I’m single again, I'm friends with a lot of single women. Sometimes they have always been single, sometimes they are like me, single again. But one thing I have learned through all my trials and talking to people throughout them is that the human experience is just that - human. Universal. Both men and women long to be loved, as well as respected. The funny thing is, is that treating someone with respect is loving. And treating someone with love, is respectful.<br />
<br />
I think as women and men we long for those things in their particular expression - whether respect or love. The Lord made women particularly long to be loved, and He graciously commands husbands to meet that need. The Lord made men in their natures particularly long to be respected, and He graciously wants that need to be met, as well, by commanding women to respect their husbands.<br />
<br />
A friend told me recently that she read somewhere that the more in love a widow(er) was in their marriage, the more they long to be remarried. Once you've tasted what it's like to be treasured, you long to be treasured again.<br />
<br />
The last time I was single, I had never tasted of what it is like to be gospel-treasured. So I didn't know what I was missing. It's like if you have never tasted bubble tea before. You don't need bubble tea, because you don't know what you are missing. But once we introduced bubble tea to our friends, they would drive 45 minutes on a regular basis just to get some bubble tea (that's right. Most of you have never tried bubble tea. You need to – get the “black pearl milk tea” - But you can't go back afterwards. It's worth it though). See, I've gotten distracted by bubble tea. The point is this, a single woman said to me once, "You've already been married. You've already had children. So if you don't again, at least you've already accomplished it once in your life." And I say, it's just the opposite. Once you've tasted and seen, you realize all the more sharply what you are missing. So single ladies, I get where you are at. In fact, I get what it is to long to be loved more than I ever did the last time I was single. <br />
<br />
One morning recently, I was feeling overwhelmed and didn't want to face some parenting struggles I was having. I felt so angry that Andrew wasn’t there with me. But I didn’t understand why I felt angry. I thought, "Even if Andrew was here, he would not be in our house all day. I would still be dealing with these parenting issues without his help. So what is it that I wish I could have from him?” Then my Bible reading schedule was about Elijah being taken up to heaven. I thought, "How did Elisha feel when Elijah left him? It doesn't say anything about that. I would feel like, 'No, I'm not ready. It's not been enough time. It would never be enough time.'" And then I burst into tears. Those were the thoughts I had when Andrew left me for heaven – “No, I'm not ready. It's not been enough time. It would never be enough time.” The Holy Spirit used His Word to hit upon what had been upsetting me. <br />
<br />
I simply missed Andrew. <br />
<br />
I thought, "It's not Andrew's help with the kids I long for. It’s not anything he could do for me. I didn’t want anything from him. It's that I didn't think I could face parenting without his love. His love was my Premium fuel. I could do all things through Andrew whose love gave me strength." <br />
<br />
Love gives amazing strength and brings out the best in us, the dormant beauties that neither you nor anyone ever dreamed were there and were never cultivated by anyone else. But the language I heard in my head "through Andrew I could do all things..." exposed to me how I was exalting the love of a man to idolatrous proportions. I realized the lies I was believing. Andrew could never satisfy me in that way. And any time I looked to him to take the place of Christ in my life, I only ended up terribly frustrated and disappointed. Because Christ is jealous for His rightful place in our lives, and He will only thwart our efforts to look to anything less than Him for our satisfaction.<br />
<br />
How does the gospel answer the question of longing to be treasured when it seems there was only one person in the world that had such a grasp of the gospel that he could love even me? What do I do when that person is no longer present in this world to love me? <br />
<br />
Someone in my small group recently said he found that the worse his wife might act (yes, she was sitting right there. And was fine with him sharing this), the more love the Lord gave him for her. I laughed when I heard him say that, because I knew exactly what he meant. That was how Andrew loved me. The more Andrew knew me, the more he understood my sinfulness, the more he loved me. That was the gospel! I think this type of love - gospel love - feels so much richer than human love. Because the more your spouse loves you - even in the midst of your sin - the more you feel your unworthiness of his love. When you sin, rather than return it with shouting in anger at you - he returns it with affection and gentleness. It's shocking and can only be supernatural. And as a result, it can only be a picture of Jesus. After all, it is His kindness that leads us to repentance.<br />
<br />
This type of supernatural, gospel love is so rich. Once you've tasted of it, how can you live without it? And yet, that is what Jesus does for us. He knows everything about us. All the dark things that we don't want anybody to know. All the dark things about us that even we ourselves don't want to face or admit to ourselves. He loves us not because we are worthy or attractive in ourselves. He loves us, even though we so often shake our fists in His face, saying (though perhaps not out loud, but in our grumbling or bad attitudes or taking our anger out on others), "No, God, that's not how I envisioned my life. No God, that's not my will. And Your will doesn't look good to me." He loves us in defiance of our daily sin. He loves us in our neediness for Him. In fact, the more we need Him, the greater His grace.<br />
<br />
As I was thinking these thoughts, I wasn’t sure they were enough to cause me to face the day. A moment later, my friend called. And though it was thoughts of Andrew that had spurred these contemplations, and her situation was different, I found myself having to rehearse to her the very truths the Holy Spirit had just comforted me with (just as 2Cor. 1:4 says He will do).<br />
<br />
She expressed her fears about opening up to someone interested in her, because what if he rejected her once he knew her? And I said, "You will just have to rest in the gospel. That's what we all need to do. It is a battle to rest in the gospel. That is what I am trying to do this morning." I said, "Jesus loves and accepts you, because He's loving. Because His love is so vast, His love overflows out of Himself onto you. He loves you, because He made you and He loves the work of His own hands. He loves You because you bear His image, and He loves His own image. He loves you so much that He shed His own blood for you. The God-Man shed His blood for you! Blood worth more than gold - infinitely. No one else could come close to loving you like that. No one else has anything worth that much to make such a sacrifice for you."<br />
<br />
Jesus loves me infinitely more than any human ever could. Than Andrew ever could love me. <br />
<br />
Now, I don't want any of you to misunderstand me. I'm not saying anything here about having self-esteem. In ourselves, we are worth nothing. But in Jesus, Jesus is our worthiness. <br />
<br />
I said, "He rejoices over you like a groom shouts with exultation over his bride." What more do we need? Jesus is enough. And all our worth is in Him. We do not need a man to tell us we are worthy or to give us worth. Jesus is worthy in our place. <br />
<br />
I said to my friend, "So it doesn't matter whether a man values you or not, because Jesus does. You are loved and accepted in Him. And when He looks at you, He no longer sees all your filth and unworthiness. He sees the perfection of His Son. He sees you as if you always obeyed Him perfectly." <br />
<br />
My friend asked, “How do you know that?” <br />
<br />
I said, “Because it says it in His Word.” <br />
<br />
Yes, this woman was a Christian. So why did she ask that, when she knows the Bible? Well, if we're honest, don’t we question what God says repeatedly in the Bible all the time? Don’t we say, “Jesus loves me? I don’t feel like You do. I don’t believe You. Because if You loved me, I would get my way. And my way looks wise to me.” Or, "All I want is what everyone else gets," or "All I want is to be normal." Or, "What I want is a totally legitimate and not sinful desire, so why aren't you giving it to me?" So maybe, we’re actually not all that different from my friend. Maybe my friend was just honest.<br />
<br />
When I got off the phone with my friend, I found I was ready to face the day. The Holy Spirit had ministered to my heart that morning. He showed me through reading about Elijah - of all things - I wasn’t really angry, just sad. He let me have a good cry. And then He let my friend call me, because He knew that rehearsing those truths would help me to believe this child-like, yet difficult truth - Jesus loves me.<br />
<br />
So, actually, do you need a Man to give you Your worth? Yes, we all do. But thank God that we don't have to achieve our worth, because Jesus already has - Jesus gives us His Worth. So we can rest. We don't need our worth from anyone but Him. As my pastor often says, "Who cares what the serfs think, when we're already loved by the King?" <br />
<br />
Christian, let us battle to believe, let us battle to rest in the truth that Jesus loves us. Let us continually confess and repent of our unbelief and pray, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!" Let us pray, "Lord, help me to taste and see that Your love is better than life.<br />
<br />
The LORD your God is in your midst,<br />
a mighty one who will save;<br />
he will rejoice over you with gladness;<br />
he will quiet you by his love;<br />
he will exult over you with loud singing.<br />
<br />
- Zephaniah 3:17Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-60671214337065997312011-11-01T20:56:00.000-05:002011-11-01T20:56:33.292-05:00John Piper's BloodlinesIf you've followed this blog for a long time, you may have picked up that I'm a big John Piper fan. From his <i>Don't Waste Your Cancer </i>blog post to his Job sermons that we repeatedly listened to during cancer to his books and other sermons that convinced us in our early 20's that the supremacy of God in all things must drive our every thought, desire, and decision, his influence largely sustained Andrew and I through cancer. I've finally gotten around to watching his video about his new book, <i>Bloodlines</i>, and I loved it. If you are wondering, it is completely unrelated to cancer. Rather, it has to do with growing up in the South in the 50s and 60s as a racist and the profound reversal that took place since. Take a look:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://player.vimeo.com/video/28323716?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ffffff%22%20width=%22400%22%20height=%22225%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20webkitAllowFullScreen%20allowFullScreen%3E%3C/iframe%3E%3Cp%3E%3Ca%20href=%22http://vimeo.com/28323716%22%3EBloodlines%20Documentary%20with%20John%20Piper%3C/a%3E%20from%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://vimeo.com/crosswaymedia%22%3ECrossway%3C/a%3E%20on%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://vimeo.com%22%3EVimeo%3C/a%3E.%3C/p%3E" target="_blank"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="225" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/28323716?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ffffff" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe></a><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/28323716">Bloodlines Documentary with John Piper</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/crosswaymedia">Crossway</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-62567079251852526732011-10-27T10:15:00.004-05:002011-11-02T12:27:54.532-05:00Exposed by the CrossI know in March I said I was ending this blog, but I didn't know a smooth way to direct you to a new website, so I'm back to blogging here! Our blog started off being about Andrew and I and our growing family, then it was about cancer, then grief. Now, I hope this blog will be about my life as a single mama to two amazing children. I hope also to share things here that might encourage and challenge you. Today I wanted to share this wonderful quotation from <i>The Gospel Primer</i>, by Milton Vincent:<br />
<br />
"The Cross also exposes me before the eyes of other people, informing them of the depth of my depravity. If I wanted others to think highly of me, I would conceal the fact that a shameful slaughter of the perfect Son of God was required that I might be saved. But when I stand at the foot of the Cross and am seen by others under the light of that Cross, I am left uncomfortably exposed before their eyes. Indeed, the most humiliating gossip that could ever be whispered about me is blared from Golgotha's hill; and my self-righteous reputation is left in ruins in the wake of its revelations. With the worst facts about me thus exposed to the view of others, I find myself feeling that I truly have nothing left to hide.<br />
<br />
"Thankfully, the more exposed I see that I am by the Cross, the more I find myself opening up to others about ongoing issues of sin in my life. (Why would anyone be shocked to hear of my struggles with past and present sin when the Cross already told them I am a desperately sinful person?) And the more open I am in confessing my sins to fellow-Christians, the more I enjoy the healing of the Lord in response to their grace-filled counsel and prayers. Experiencing richer levels of Christ's love in companionship with such saints, I give thanks for the gospel's role in forcing my hand toward self-disclosure and freedom that follows."<br />
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- <i>The Gospel Primer:</i> “Exposed by the Cross Part 2”.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-63011234721968474432011-03-23T06:06:00.014-05:002012-10-25T22:36:21.459-05:00Epilogue: I, Grace, Have Risen from the DeadThis past fall the Lord had me hit complete and utter rock bottom. But in the following months, He has done a miraculous work of healing and RESURRECTION. <br />
<br />
<strong><u>Love, Look at the Two of Us</u></strong><br />
<br />
It was the summer of 2003, and Andrew and I were dating. I said I wanted to learn how to change my own oil. So, I parked in his apartment's vast garage, he pumped my 1994 black Honda Accord up with a jack, and we slid underneath the car. There was something cozy about the cold of the concrete floor, the gravel beneath our backs, and the tight, dark quarters. But as I scanned the grey underbelly of the car a few inches from my nose, the car's heaviness seemed only a breath away from collapsing on us with its tonnage. I whispered, "I'm scared." <br />
<br />
Reaching for the oil pan above him to his left, he said, "I guess it is kind of scary." He unscrewed and removed the bolt of the oil pan. "Well, at least if we die, we die together." Black oil poured out. "What if in our lives one of us dies first?" he asked. <br />
<br />
With a hollow sound, the oil hit Andrew's tupperware. Its thick, earthy stench invaded my nose.<br />
<br />
Andrew broke the silence. "It would be much better to die together." <br />
<br />
"Definitely." We shimmied out from underneath the dark shadow of the car back into the bright fluorescent lighting of his apartment's garage, and I shook the awful question out of my mind. <br />
<br />
That winter, during our engagement, we were up late one night. We typed away on our computers in Andrew’s dad’s office. We were writing a booklet of our love story to give as our wedding favors. The printer’s deadline was the next morning, but I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I spotted some of Andrew’s dad’s old records and dropped one onto the black, rotating turntable of the record player, while Andrew sat on the couch across from me. Karen Carpenter's rich alto sang out.<br />
<br />
I snapped my fingers in the exaggerated 1970s way to the jingle and sang with Karen to Andrew: <br />
<br />
“Love, look at the two of us,"<br />
<br />
I danced as if I was wearing giant, over-sized bell-bottoms and a flowy shirt with flowers, pointing my feet side to side.<br />
<br />
"Strangers in many ways."<br />
<br />
I turned my head left to right then left to the beat like I was on A Chorus Line, as I walked towards Andrew. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exhiNToY3eI" target="_blank">"Let’s take a lifetime to say</a><br />
I knew you well"<br />
<br />
Andrew looked up from the laptop and looked at me with his giant, wide eyes and laughed. He expected new silly dances from me, like all my friends were accustomed to. <br />
<br />
"For only time will <br />
Tell us so<br />
And love may grow<br />
For all we know.” <br />
<br />
I had reached Andrew. I threw my arms around his neck and said, “We’ve got a lifetime to get to know each other better! Isn’t that amazing? I get to explore the depths of you for the rest of our lives!” <br />
<br />
He laughed while he clicked away on his mouse tweaking the graphics of our book. As for my job, my tired brain was done with editing, and the writing was as good as it was going to get. I was onto dancing. I kept playing the song over and over again until I got all the lyrics down and danced and danced and danced. <br />
<br />
We were married that January. A few months later, in March, I couldn't sleep. Rick Holland, our old college pastor, always used to say, "Have you ever considered when you can't sleep, maybe it's because the Lord wants to meet with you?" So that night I said, "Lord, what is it that you want to tell me?" And it was as if the Lord shouted in my mind, "TIME IS SHORT." I hoped that was just my own mind thinking about a general Biblical truth about how quickly life passes by. <br />
<br />
Nonetheless, I was terrified that I would shortly be taken away from Andrew. During our marriage, I constantly considered that if I died, I would have wanted Andrew and my kids to always know I loved them with all my heart. When AJ was still an infant, I recorded us on our camcorder, as I told AJ I loved him with all my heart. Many parents probably have recordings of them doing that, but my reason wasn’t inadvertent. It was so that AJ could look at it if anything ever happened to me. I wanted to spend every moment possible with my family looking them in the eye when they spoke, undistracted, and as affectionate and as expressive of my love as possible. And after reading in a book that 80% of what Americans own they didn't use once in a year (or something like that), I wanted to get rid of the majority of our stuff. I didn't want to waste the precious little time I had left shuffling around clutter. If AJ asked me a question and I was in the middle of dishes, I would turn off the water immediately and give AJ my full attention. I thought, “If I die soon, I’m not going to care if my house was always perfect or not." And so, compared to others, I was not a model house keeper. But my husband was happy with the job I did, my family was taken care of, and they knew they were very loved.<br />
<br />
The reality is, I did die at the age of 28. I slowly faded away as my love's body broke down. I died the day he died. The car had fallen on us.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>The One of Us</u></strong><br />
<br />
With Andrew’s death, the fear and foreboding instantly stopped and was replaced with constant distractedness by the various demands of my life. After Andrew’s death, I was present and feeding my children meal after meal. I kept my house clean, paid all the bills, and took care of all the paper work, medical bills, de-cluttering of Andrew's things, selling of cars, I had a new will written up, all the things that needed to be done as a result of Andrew's death. Most of all, I needed to provide stability for the kids. Demonstrate for them that though their dad was gone, mama wasn't going anywhere. And so, ever since Andrew died, I did not have the liberty to check out. But this past fall, it seemed the kids were through their grief for the most part and were stable. With that little inch of flexibility, I began to break apart. <br />
<br />
Andrew's death was like the airplanes that flew into the Towers of the World Trade Center, while I was the Towers. But I knew my children were in the building, so I could not collapse until they got out of the building. So I collapsed one floor at a time, one day at a time. I was purposeful to cry each day, make sure to diligently drain that grief lest it overcome me all at once. And then, this fall, I saw that my kids had made it out of the building. They were doing well. AJ no longer got that very sad look on his face for a few moments every few days. They still talked about their dad and said they missed him, but they knew that I hadn't disappeared like he had, and everything else had generally stayed the same in their lives. We had kept the same general routine each day. Each day they went to bed in the same room they had always gone to bed in and each morning they went to the kitchen and I fed them all their meals at all the same times in the day that I always had. Each day we read the Bible and talked about each of the situations we encountered and filtered them through how the Lord saw them. We were still in the same house, went to the same church, saw all the same wonderful people that they loved and saw around as they saw before Andrew died. They were stable. And so this fall, the last several floors left of the Towers came crashing to the ground. The Lord had graciously delayed the devastation, but it had to come at some time. <br />
<br />
One of my pastors in my church, Pastor Warren, is a full-time, professional counselor, a therapist. As I could feel the rumbles of the last few floors about to give, I asked him if we could start meeting. I could sense there were 3rd degree burns that were far deeper than I had ever had the guts to imagine. At first, Pastor Warren said, "I don't see your life as one mangled by grief. I think you've been handling your grief really well." Still, as the Lord revealed to me and shocked me with areas of undealt with grief, such as what I mentioned in my September blog, "The School Bus and Blood," I feared perhaps I had never dealt with my grief. Increasingly, I spiraled into a hole. What if I was only just <i>beginning</i> to deal with my grief? And Pastor Warren would encourage me, "No, Grace. I think you're doing well. I think you may be at the last obstacles of your grief." This encouraged me, but I also feared that maybe he was just an optimist. <br />
<br />
At the same time as being confronted with the areas of undealt with grief, Andrew's birthday arrived on Sept. 11th. Memories of Andrew became more vivid than ever. I walked past the tailor store in the mall and an image burst before my eyes. We had brought Andrew's black leather jacket with its "ANDREW MARC, NEW YORK" label embroidered in yellow block letters on the inside tag to that store to get altered. I couldn't get the vivid image of his leather arm out of my mind's eye. Longing for the feeling of his leather arm behind my neck was like a knife stabbing me in my heart, and I couldn't pull it out of my chest. I had often tried to think of the bigger picture, but saying to myself that Christ, or even Andrew, awaited me in some indeterminate time in the future when I reached eternity was of no comfort. It would be like if you had your leg pinned under the tire of a car and you were in excruciating pain. Saying, "Don't worry, maybe someone will eventually come for you and get your leg out," would not make you stop screaming for the pain to stop. <br />
<br />
I wrote in my journal:<br />
<br />
<i>Sunday, November 14, 2010<br />
<br />
Met with Pastor Warren today. He said he can sense from me the profundity of my loss…but that he doesn’t think he, nor anyone, can say they can even <b>begin</b> to realize the true profundity of my loss. He says he’s not one of those Christians who thinks things can’t get “all that bad” and then it’s done with. He says he’s not prepared to be able to draw a line between legitimate grief and sinful grief. He says I feel the consequences of my loss everyday in my life. And that my suffering continues and there is no end in sight of that suffering.</i> <br />
<br />
Also, Pastor Warren mentioned to me my desire to move past my grief. I asked him what that meant. I knew I didn't want to be miserable and that I couldn’t continue as a way of life living at my breaking point for much longer, but I didn't understand exactly what "moving past my grief" meant. He said you know when you have moved through your grief when your life is not completely centered around and in reference to Andrew any longer. <br />
<br />
I cried and cried and cried when he said that. I said, "I <i>don't</i> want to live with my life <i>not</i> in reference to Andrew. My tears were hot and poured out far more than I knew was in me. Pastor Warren's gentle validations caused all the stuff that I was stuffing down so that I could function and appear normal, and convince myself I was normal, to pour out of me. <br />
<br />
<strong><u>The Depths that Lead to Heights</u></strong><br />
<br />
I had taken care of the kids for more than 1.5 years by myself, and on top of that, our house that Andrew wanted me to stay in, suddenly had urgent demands all at once - after a heavy windstorm a large tree branch fell onto the fence into our neighbor's yard, the freezer stopped working and all the food was melting, something cracked in the toilet so that water was leaking onto the floor, someone brought to my attention the windows were rotting and needed to be replaced before winter, AJ got scarlet fever - all within the same six weeks. This was all happening as I was dealing with the worst stage of my grief process. I was already worn out, but now I was fully saturated with physical as well as emotional exhaustion.<br />
<br />
<i>Saturday, November 27, 2010<br />
<br />
For so long through his trial, the concept that God is good has gripped me, kept me sane. Somehow, I was convinced of it. Now, the misery has been so long, so relentless, so persistent, I have a hard time believing it. Yet there is a seed of this thought persisting: The only life worth living is one spent for Christ. For a moment, a picture of a piece of shredded meat flashed through my mind. That's my life. Perhaps little relief, little happiness; however, no matter my ideals, there is a limit to my strength, to my persistence. There will be a point where I may break, go crazy, die, etc. If God delivers before then, then it will prove His promises. Perhaps that is my life. A laboratory for all to see if God's claims hold up. <br />
<br />
I waited patiently for the Lord<br />
And He inclined to me and heard my cry...<br />
He put a new song in my mouth, <br />
a song of <br />
praise to our God;<br />
Many will see and fear<br />
And will trust in the Lord<br />
-- Psalm 40:1-3<br />
<br />
Perhaps that shall happen. If the Lord delivers, perhaps many will see and fear, and will trust in the Lord.</i><br />
<br />
There was no more willpower in me left to say, "No, for the sake of my kids, I will survive!" No. There was nothing left. I had been a full-time caregiver to a husband that wasted before my eyes for 2 years while raising two toddlers under 2 and then a single mom for nearly 2 years, while a grieving widow, and I was several years beyond fried. There was nowhere left to turn but to cry out to God in utter desperation and fear. <br />
<br />
I remember one night at the end of October, I had a babysitter because I was supposed to go to ballet. But I was so worn out, I just stayed in my bedroom while she took care of the kids. The grief was so horrific, it began manifesting physically, my chest hurting and so heavy, it was hard to breathe. And I began to see myself floating above myself. And I thought, "Is this what it's like to become unhinged? Is this what it's like to go crazy?" The next day, I spent the few hours that my kids were in preschool and kindergarten crying out to God that Grace Lindeman, the Canadian teenager who had helped us twice when Andrew was sick, I prayed that her dad would get reinstated at Air Canada that day so that she could fly and help us, since the tickets were too expensive without his discount. The Lord answered, and for the first time in nearly 2 years, he was reinstated that very day! Grace Lindeman flew from Canada to Minnesota and helped me for a month. <br />
<br />
While it was a massive relief to have Grace Lindeman helping with the kids, the misery continued to persist. I kept thinking about what Corrie Ten Boom said in <i>The Hiding Place</i>. When she had reached a particularly desperate time in the concentration camp and all her sister and she had was the Bible, her sister said the Lord <i>has</i> provided a solution: Give thanks in everything! (1Thess. 5:18). I felt backed against a wall and had no choice but to do it God's way. I had to "consider it <i>all joy</i> when I faced various trials" (James 1:2). I had to give thanks about all the things I was upset about. I had to give thanks <i>in everything.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Friday, Dec. 12, 2010<br />
<br />
Giving thanks whenever I'm about to complain and grumble and scream in my heart feels as if it is regenerating cut off heart in an instant. Last night, as I was decluttering, I looked at a list of things you can play with kids on summer break. My heart reaction was to remember all the wonderful things we used to do as a family when Andrew was here, but now I'm so bombarded and burnt out by the pressures of every aspect of our lives relentlessly depending on me that I hardly play with or enjoy the kids. I'm so frustrated and preoccupied, most of the time when I am with them. <br />
<br />
Again, I was reminded to give thanks. "Ugh...Thank You, God, for all the wonderful time the kids did have with Andrew...Thank You, Lord, that they no longer have their father...Thank You, Lord, that they no longer have their father." And to my surprise, it was right as if in that instant I could see the third degree burns that had disintegrated most of my heart suddenly regenerate, resurrect, like my heart, though barely any of it was left, was instantly re-growing, as if my heart were a starfish, even though it wasn't merely an arm that needed to re-grow; it was as if only one or two edges were left of that starfish and the 85% of the starfish needed to be resurrected.”</i> <br />
<br />
At my December meeting with Pastor Warren, he said that everyone that knows him knows that he always says that the hardest job in the world is to be a single mom. And he said, but on top of that, my children have no dad that they can ever see, and further on top of that, I am dealing with my grief. <br />
<br />
Grace Lindeman stayed until the day the kids and I left in December to spend a month in California with my brothers, who live there with their families, and my parents, who flew out from New Jersey for the holidays. <br />
<br />
During the kids' and my month in California, I worked again on the book Andrew had said in his letters to publish. I printed out our entire blog, put it into a binder, and began to edit all 400 or so single-spaced pages with a pencil. The act of being forced to go through the blogs we had written during the worst time of our lives, when Andrew was going through radiation and chemotherapy for a second time, helped me to finally process areas of grief I had never been ready to deal with before. I wrote in the margins what it was making me feel. And to my surprise, I felt rage. And once I acknowledged I was angry, the Lord began to take it away. I awoke the next day and the depression and hopelessness I had fallen into that fall was suddenly lifted.<br />
<br />
At the end of December, after the kids were in bed at my brother's house, I also spent an hour three nights in a row walking the streets in the rain or cold, crying out to God to show me what to do. I didn't feel I could handle it anymore. When I had first begun to collapse earlier in the fall, my close friend, Melissa, down the street from me had offered to take my kids for a few months, but I hadn't taken her up on her offer. Friends from church had offered to take my kids when I returned from California. But I felt so paralyzed. How could I have gone from visions of spending all day with my children, like my early Washington mentors, to the opposite end of the spectrum? Sure, I loved the schools in Eden Prairie. I was fine with not homeschooling them, but letting other people care for them for a few months? I'm sure plenty of people would have done the whole spectrum of anything for us, including if I came up with middle-of-the-road options, but I just felt paralyzed. There was an infinite amount of possible life changes I could make, but none of them seemed ideal. <br />
<br />
The previous fall months, I had felt so paralyzed, I did not know what to change. Everything I had done since Andrew died, I had modeled after the past. All the paperwork, all the changes that needed to be made that related to Andrew's death, I just did what Andrew would have done. The routines with the kids, I did my best to base it on past routines. Even most of the travelling we had done, whether to California, New Jersey, or the Philippines, those were all things I had also done before Andrew's death. Even sending for Grace Lindeman. She was one of our helpers when Andrew was sick. I didn't want to find anyone local, because I was afraid training someone new would come with a whole new set of unpredictabilities. But I finally reached the point where I could not put off change any longer. <br />
<br />
I loved my children so much. What would be best for our family? I kept crying out to God to show me what His will was. <br />
<br />
And then it came to mind to my surprise, "Put the kids into school full time." Andrew had said to do this in his letters, but I wasn't sure if he meant to do that when Gracie was in first grade, which wasn't for another two years, as opposed to homeschooling them, or sooner. But as I prayed about it, the Lord seemed to be saying, "Now is the time." Also, a few days earlier a college student, Lydia, from my church emailed me that she heard I was looking for live-in help with my kids. During my night wanderings what came to mind was, have Lydia move in with you. Then you can have on-call help and babysitting any time. Don't live on the edge of your strength with no margins. Build lots of margins into your life. <br />
<br />
<strong><u>Seeds of Resurrection </u></strong><br />
<br />
<i>Sunday, Feb. 13, 2011<br />
<br />
Last weekend I went to the Hyatt to be by myself for the two year anniversary of Andrew’s death, the way I had for the one year anniversary of his death. There, I discovered I am not in the same place I was a year ago. Last year, I wondered why I was drawn to the Hyatt when it should remind me of when Andrew and I went there weekly during radiation and chemotherapy, the worst time of our lives. I realized that I had gone there because I hadn’t processed that time of my life a year ago, but this year I had already processed that worst time of my life while I was in California editing our book. I realized I had gone to the Hyatt during cancer because it was the only escape from the pressures of the relentless cancer. Last year, again, I needed the escape. This year, I realized, I no longer need to escape! Lydia lives with us, the kids are in school, and I’m not overwhelmed anymore. <br />
<br />
At church the next day, I cried through singing “Majesty,” feeling so <br />
profoundly the depth of Christ’s love for me and His deliverance in my life, even recently. He allowed me to deal with my grief head on, cry, and scream, and write, and put my kids in school. And then providing Lydia. I felt as if I had finally come out on the other side of depression, and loneliness, and paralysis. And it was not through my circumstances God saved me. He saved me through Himself. And He provided the grace and strength for me to make the changes I needed to.</i> <br />
<br />
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."<br />
-- Isaiah 41:10<br />
<br />
And so, now I am just focusing on keeping stress as low as possible in my life, and physically, mentally, emotionally resting and recovering from the past four years (two as a grieving widow/single mom and the 2 years prior of full-time caregiving and grieving as I lost Andrew little by little).<br />
<br />
When I told Pastor Warren that I am focusing on resting, he agreed that this was a wise course of action. He said I should consider what I've been through emotionally, as being similar to a physical injury. He compared it to how he had injured his shoulder, and that even though he can do almost everything he used to be able to do, and he is at 95%, it will still take awhile for him until he is at 100%. When I said I had some opportunities to do some more things, but I turned them down, because I felt like I needed to continue keeping the pressure low in my life, he agreed that my instincts were right. He said that especially in our American culture, where we find our value in being productive and busy, the temptation would be to get really busy with something new, but then never to deal with what's actually going on. <br />
<br />
<strong><u>New Life</u></strong><br />
<br />
The Lord has resurrected me. And I am alive! I am a new creation free and filled up and overflowing with the love of God. I died but the Lord resurrected me. I feel as if the Holy Spirit has given me new insights into certain Scriptures. For instance, Romans 5:3-5 says:<br />
<br />
"...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, <sup class="versenum" id="en-ESV-28036"><strong><span style="font-size: xx-small;">4</span></strong></sup>and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, <sup class="versenum" id="en-ESV-28037"><strong><span style="font-size: xx-small;">5</span></strong></sup>and hope does not put us to shame, because <i>God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us</i>." <br />
<br />
I thought I understood verses 3-4, but frankly, verse 5 was perplexing to me. "God's love has been poured into our hearts through His Holy Spirit"? Sounds abstract...how does that make me rejoice, or in other translations, exult, or glory in my sufferings? How does "God's love poured into my heart," if it's some abstract concept that I don't see with my eyes or feel with my hands, make a knife carving out my heart make me respond opposite to the natural response of screeching in agony, kicking the One holding the knife's Hands away? Well, literally, in the past months of resurrection I experience often on a daily basis what it feels like - unmistakably, nothing subtle or abstract about it - to have the LOVE OF GOD POURED out into my heart through His Holy Spirit. <br />
<br />
I have never felt more convinced of God's love for me or His goodness ever in my life than I do now. I feel so incredibly FREE! I have never felt more free in my entire life.<br />
<br />
The 2 year anniversary of Andrew's death was when I realized how incredibly free I was. A few days later I looked at andersonsashes.blogspot.com, a blog of another young widow, and reviewed her most recent blog at the time. It was about how incredibly freed she felt. And then I remembered that when I had first read it, a week before the 2 year anniversary of Andrew's death, I had said, "Lord, I don't know what she's talking about. I don't have a clue how it's possible to feel freed like a bird escaping captivity after losing your husband. I want to know that freedom. Please show me." I had forgotten all about that prayer, but the Lord had answered it. We can have all these things we long for - peace, joy, freedom if we just ask Jesus, no matter what we're going through. He is the Source of all of that, and He longs to give that to us. He only requires that we ask. So I encourage you to please ask, and keep asking! Ask Jesus to know Him more. Or if you don't already know Jesus, I implore you to please ask Him to know Him in the first place. <br />
<br />
I can't describe this love poured out into my heart that I feel without it sounding cheesy. I don't know. Maybe like the warmth of an embrace, but times INFINITY because it's given by the GOD OF THE UNIVERSE. <br />
<br />
I can say, though, another verse that Christ has given me insight into is "For God so loved the world..." John 3:16. Let's be honest. Isn't there something child-like sounding about that verse? Like in first grade when all my classmates would raise their hand during prayer time to ask for prayer for "the world." If not child-like, then abstract. <br />
<br />
Well, now, I feel I have a new insight into it. I feel as if God's love is so much for me that it is literally <i>overflowing</i> out of my little heart, pouring over, and I just feel like I love THE WHOLE WORLD. <br />
<br />
When you are in excruciating pain over a prolonged, seemingly endless amount of years, you start to question how this could be loving. There is no question anymore. Not only does God have enough love for me to get me through the day; He has so much love for me, I can't contain it! I love everyone! And I will tell you so if I see you. I love you! I really do. <br />
<br />
As I walk closer with the Lord, I am more convinced than ever that as wonderful as Andrew was, he couldn't even come close to the satisfaction that only Christ, Himself, can bring. Andrew was wonderful because of the ways he reflected some facets of Christ. No matter what a brat I was, how difficult, stubborn, or selfish on a day-to-day basis I was, Andrew relentlessly showered me with affection and love, and continued to daily pursue me with that love even after we were married. Through that, Andrew taught me about Christ's relentless, pursuit and love for me, in defiance of how unworthy I am of His love. Through Andrew's love, he gave me a reference, an insight into how not only has Christ taken away my condemnation from hell, but day-to-day, He has taken away my condemnation. I don't have to approach Christ cowering, guilty because I know there are endless sins I've committed just in the last minute that I didn’t even realize. Christ knows me better than Andrew did, and He still loves me! He still is excited about me the way a husband rejoices over his bride. Isn't that incredible? Crazy? THE GOD OF THE UNIVERSE loves <i>me</i>? Andrew was wonderful, because like the moon reflects the sun, Andrew reflected the Son. But the moon has no light without the sun, and all of the light that Andrew's love was cannot compare to that of the Ultimate Source, of the Son. I asked the Lord to show me that His love was better than that of a man and within days, I experienced what I've just described. <br />
<br />
I am more convinced than ever, and experience the reality of the fact that Jesus is enough. HE IS THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN SATISFY. <br />
<br />
<b><u>How I Miss Andrew</u></b><br />
<br />
<i>Wednesday, March 9, 2011<br />
<br />
Today I miss Andrew completely in just the person he was. Not who we were together, not the relationship we had, or the time we spent together. Just who he was and all that made up the person of Andrew.</i><br />
<br />
And so the way I miss Andrew is different. For so long, I missed my relationship with Andrew. I missed our life together. I missed what he was to the children. But if God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and thus this life right now is His good for us, then I really don't know if life would be better if Andrew were with us right now, because I would be less sanctified. Life gets better the closer we are to Christ, regardless of circumstances. In fact, the Bible says it's suffering that makes us more like Christ. So it's not despite suffering life gets better, it is through the means of suffering life gets better, because suffering draws us closer to Christ and makes us more like Christ. And the closer we are to Christ, the sweeter everything is. For the believer, life everlasting has already begun! <br />
<br />
And, I do have a Father for my children. I do have a Husband. Jesus in a very real way is that to us. And He has not forsaken us. He has taken very good care of us. When there are things I do not know how to do in the house and there isn’t time to call anyone, and the Lord wants me to learn how to do it for myself, I just keep praying as I'm fixing something in the house or on the computer, and it is as if the Lord instructs my mind and guides my hands what to do. When one of my children is completely out of hand and I'm terrified for what they will be like 10 years from now, I cry out to God that I do not have the strength to be on top of all their training in the same way as I used to, and I don't have Andrew to back me up and lead us like he used to, and I cry out for rescue. And the Lord rescues. He begins to do a work of change in that child's heart, though I haven't changed anything. He changes them to the point that people notice and comment on the change they recognize. <br />
<br />
But I still miss Andrew. I miss the person of Andrew. I do miss a world with Andrew in it. But that is different than pining away after a life that I used to have with him. <br />
<br />
I used to think that being past my grief was that the memories faded to the point that they could no longer hurt me. Now, I realize, it's not that. The first year after Andrew's death, I could not remember anything pre-cancer. Or rather, I could not allow myself to remember. I could not look at pictures of the sweet time of falling in love. I realize now that being able to move past my grief doesn't mean I won't miss Andrew anymore or cry. In fact, the memories are more vivid than ever. It means that I accept that he is gone. I accept that I am a single mom. For the past two years, I think I have been living like a stay-at-home mom, whose husband just hadn't returned home yet, and eventually, my strength ran out. But now, I accept I am a single mom and my life is no longer going to look how I had envisioned it. My house will not be overflowing with children with Andrew beside me to enjoy them. My life is not going to look the way it did four years ago before cancer struck our household, or like the lives of those who mentored me in mothering when AJ and Gracie were born in Washington. My life isn't going to look like friends' lives, which I identified with, and are stay-at-home moms, who homeschool their children. Before Andrew entered my life, my future appeared a fuzzy haze. When Andrew arrived, I thought, at least there is one thing I know about my life. It'll have Andrew beside me until the end. But there is no certainty in this world, except for Christ. I'm not sure what my life will look like. But for now, my kids are in school full-time, Lydia is living with us, and I am recovering, resting, writing, and revising our book.<br />
<br />
When I told this to Pastor Warren, he said that in all the models of grief, "acceptance" was always the last stage. And he said he couldn't even count how many times he heard me use the words, "I accept." <br />
<br />
I said, "I feel like God has risen me from the dead. And I am like a child learning to walk, and the Lord is clapping, cheering me on like an excited parent."<br />
<br />
Pastor Warren said that the words I was using was really almost literal, rather than a metaphor. He said he was sitting in his chair and getting front row seats to witness God's miraculous work in a person before his very eyes. He said after all I had been through the past several years, it was literally like from the dead, I had risen. <br />
<br />
Please pray for us: <br />
- That the Lord would display His glory and mercy and forgiveness in the book that Andrew asked me to write and that if it is His will that He would make it publishable. <br />
- And please pray for my children, that they would know and experience and feel the reality that God is a Father to the fatherless; and that they would love the Lord with all of their heart, mind, soul, and strength from an early age for all of their lives. <br />
- And that the Lord would make me raise them in a godly way with strength to consistently shepherd them. <br />
<br />
A few days before Andrew was told that the cancer had travelled into his spine and it was 100% terminal in October of '08, and though I still could not accept that he was going to die, I had a dream that I was driving on a busy rode, and suddenly turned into an unexpected, narrow pathway. It led up to a cemetery. There was a small cabin at the top of the gentle hill, and inside was a crowd of people, most of whom I had never met before. And they were all comforting me. <br />
<br />
And that is what happened. I had never been to the Eden Prairie Cemetery until after Andrew died. I may not have ever driven past it before. But it is off a busy road, exactly like the one in my dream, and unless you're trying really hard to find it, you will not see the unexpected narrow pathway that leads up to a gentle, grassy hill, again, exactly as it appeared in my dream. It is a small cemetery set back with a small, wood sign, so unless you're looking, you might not even notice there's a cemetery there. <br />
<br />
And while perhaps not in person, all of you came around us and comforted me, many of you we know personally, but many of you we did not. Thank you so much to all of you for laughing and crying and praying and supporting Andrew, the kids, and me, and carrying us to Jesus, and for the sake of Jesus. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I cannot express my gratitude to all of you for loving us and listening to us and bearing with us and being there for us. It has meant and been everything. The Lord has literally used you to have carried us through this trial. I truly mean that. While countless ones of you have contributed to helping us in person, or sent us things, even if you didn’t physically do anything, you prayed for us. And that is the greatest thing you could have done. Thank you for being Christ's body to us. I cannot express my gratitude, but for all that you have done for us, you have done to Jesus. And He will reward you. I love you!<br />
<br />
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Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-69648387997875676572011-02-07T16:54:00.014-06:002011-02-08T15:32:58.906-06:00The Two Year Anniversary of Andrew's DeathToday is the two year anniversary of Andrew' death.<br />
<br />
As soon as it has felt for all of you to watch our wedding video and then a few weeks later to watch the video to his memorial service below is kind of how our 5 year marriage felt - a flash. Before we knew it, our time together was up. <br />
<br />
You may notice some parallels between the wedding video and the memorial video, despite how our wedding took place in New Jersey and his memorial service took place in Minnesota. The officiant is the same as my wedding, my brother-in-law, Bob Glenn. The worship leader is the same as well, David Ward. Our family relatives on both sides are there in the first few pews. The flowers that I chose are the same colors as our wedding flowers, red and yellow. I chose that flower arrangement for his memorial service, because the colors reminded me of our love, deep and passionate.<br />
<br />
Andrew and I loved each other very much. But we loved Christ and His glory even more. So even though I was grieving the loss of Andrew, I honestly felt joy that superceded my grieving that Andrew was enjoying the greatest longing of his heart, of both our hearts - Jesus Himself! On our wedding day, I walked down the aisle to Andrew. He lifted my veil and kissed me. On the day of his death, Jesus lifted the veil and welcomed his son home!<br />
<br />
The message my brother-in-law preached on our wedding day was about the "mystery" of marriage. "Mystery" in the context of the Bible does not connote the same thing that it does in the English language. It refers to how the ultimate reality of something is not originally revealed. The "mystery" of marriage was that originally it was not known what ultimate reality it pointed to. But when Christ came to the earth, the mystery was revealed - God invented the institution of marriage to point to the greater reality of the relationship between Christ and the Church. Marriage is a shadow of what is to come, a dim picture of the future reality. That is what the purpose of marriage is - to be a picture of the relationship between Christ and the Church. Just as a man is ravished by love for his bride, infinitely more does God exult in His love towards His bride, the Church ("The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy," Zephaniah 3:17). Andrew was experiencing the fulfilment of that reality.<br />
<br />
Honestly, amidst my grief, I felt more joyous during his memorial service than I did on our wedding day, because I believe Christ received more glory on that day. The wedding day was kind of about the bride, as much as we did want God’s glory on that day as well. But Andrew’s memorial service, while it was a tribute to Andrew, well, I believe the Lord’s grace in his life as well as in his death put Christ more clearly on display than our wedding did. <br />
<br />
For his memorial service, I chose songs that I hoped would encourage all of us who were grieving. And I tried to choose the songs that I knew Andrew loved - There is a Fountain and My Heart is Filled with Thankfulness. <br />
<br />
I believe these lyrics were most meaningful from There Is a Fountain to Andrew as he struggled with tongue cancer:<br />
<br />
The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day;<br />
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.<br />
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;<br />
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.<br />
<br />
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save,<br />
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.<br />
Lies silent in the grave, lies silent in the grave;<br />
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.<br />
<br />
His tongue cancer was over, and he was singing in a nobler sweeter song than he <em>ever </em>had before tongue cancer.<br />
<br />
I remembered there was another song that Andrew and I had heard a few years earlier visiting our old Bible study at UCLA that the both of us really liked. I especially liked the chorus, because it made me think of what it will be like in eternity as we all sing together worshiping God. I couldn't remember how it went, what it was called, or who had written it. I called a bunch of friends and they even looked up the schedule from the past dates that we had visited UCLA. But I still couldn't find the song. And then I thought, if the Lord wants me to use that song in the memorial service, He will provide it somehow. That night I got into the car of a new friend who was reaching out to me, my neighbor, Melissa. And in her car was playing a CD she had just gotten. The song came on: How Great Is Our God. <br />
<br />
At the end of the memorial service, standing in front of Andrew's portrait singing How Great Is Our God, it was as if the lyris of the song were what Andrew was saying to me in wonder and awe, smiling, his eyes bulging, mouth agape, standing before Christ in eternity:<br />
<br />
"The splendor of the King,<br />
clothed in majesty<br />
Let all the earth rejoice,<br />
all the earth rejoice<br />
<br />
He wraps himself in light,<br />
and darkness tries to hide<br />
it trembles at his voice,<br />
trembles at his voice."<br />
<br />
It was as if I could see Andrew standing before the throne of God and he was saying, "Oh Grace, if only you could see what I'm seeing now," shaking his head in amazement. <br />
<br />
One of the things Andrew had always talked about since I met him was wanting to see the Grand Canyon. Neither of us had seen it before. So we stopped at the Grand Canyon on our way driving to California, where we were going to say goodbye to all of his friends and go to the nutritional treatment center the last months of his life. As he stood before the massive canyon, he had said, "If I had known, Grace, oh my goodness, Grace, I would have come here sooo much sooner." <br />
<br />
And as I stood before his portrait from our wedding day, as we sang How Great Is Our God, it was as if I could hear Andrew saying, "Oh my gosh, Grace, if I had known that <i>this</i> is what it would be like before the throne of God, oh my gosh, I could never <i>imagine <strong>this</strong>!</i> <br />
<br />
I remember the moment of AJ's birth and how Andrew's arm was raised like UCLA had just won three football games simultaneously, his eyes wide open, smiling, as he discovered that "it was a boy," and Andrew looked as if he was restraining himself from jumping up and down, so as not to outright say, "I told you so," and I thought of Andrew standing before Christ on the throne and him wanting to jump up and down...times infinity. <br />
<br />
And age to age He stands<br />
and time is in His Hands<br />
Beginning and the End, <br />
Beginning and the End<br />
<br />
The Godhead, three in one<br />
Father, Spirit, Son<br />
the Lion and the Lamb,<br />
the Lion and the Lamb<br />
<br />
Name above all names<br />
you are worthy of all praise<br />
and my heart will sing <br />
how great is our God<br />
<br />
Chorus:<br />
<b>How great is our God, sing with me <br />
How great is our God, and all will see <br />
How great, how great is our God </b><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">How Great is Our God, Christ Tomlin</span> <br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="300" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/19056051" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/19056051">Andrew's Memorial Service, part 1</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user5732665">grace uriarte</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="300" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/19274069" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/19274069">Andrew's Memorial Service, part 2</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user5732665">grace uriarte</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
Slideshow from memorial service:<br />
<br />
<object height="288" width="432"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/95447126387" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/95447126387" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="432" height="288"></embed></object>Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-64443851586904104492011-01-10T21:32:00.002-06:002014-06-02T21:51:48.123-05:00Seven Years Since that Day<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4j0-73iOfVgKo8TbK73uAg1ZCIctf9gi1KIkrWwo80P8Yhj6GL4w9HUqEWipetaFGbCxosXDNRlGeiQPFBHDoygyrGMpxKVlOlqgG1I9EnPPsrQJ4RyjpCJ_tnCw4JTEJA-Kh9w/s1600/dscf0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4j0-73iOfVgKo8TbK73uAg1ZCIctf9gi1KIkrWwo80P8Yhj6GL4w9HUqEWipetaFGbCxosXDNRlGeiQPFBHDoygyrGMpxKVlOlqgG1I9EnPPsrQJ4RyjpCJ_tnCw4JTEJA-Kh9w/s320/dscf0013.jpg" height="240" n4="true" width="320" /></a>I used to dream about having a video like this, because it didn't register that my brother was recording it, even though I saw him with his camcorder. It was an amazing surprise when my brother sent me a video of my wedding for my first birthday after Andrew's death. I had never seen it before. </div>
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I have edited this video into a fly-by version of our wedding, January 10, 2004, mostly of important songs of that day. The adorable children in the wedding party are my nieces, nephew, and my cousin's son. I had been waiting 17 years, since I was 6 years old when I had messed up the job and the flower girl in front of me and I had only dropped two petals each going down the aisle, to have my own flower girls drop petals as they went down the aisle the right way, dropping handfuls. <br />
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The officiating pastor is my brother-in-law, Bob Glenn, and the man who read the Scripture was my New Jersey pastor from when I became a Christian at age 12 until I left for UCLA, Pastor Babij. My bridesmaids were Andrew's sister, Jennifer, my close cousins, Amanda, Katharyn, Krystene, and my maid-of-honor was my sister, Gayle. <br />
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Andrew's groomsmen were his best friends from high school and his best man was his brother, Jon. <br />
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The music was lead by David Ward, my worship pastor both in New Jersey and now in Minnesota. We got married in Somerset, NJ at the church where Andrew grew up.<br />
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I made the cuts in the two dances at the end of the video according to the lyrics that were sung. The last song was sung by my brother-in-law, Bob. Here is the video:<br />
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I remember as we exchanged our wedding vows, images of our first meeting at the back of the large auditorium, Rolfe 1200, after Bible study flashed through my head. Tears began to well as I thought how far the Lord had brought us from there in two years and two months, and how I had never imagined this were possible.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDYIWFCDHeUA9wiyo7ssX_-VjuN2VToedp3f61Bml5gJcO17kzhvTysnwSwCHYEdkKYp56oLGg1qEKrTHzdqZ3b1j_0SOXoGYAMqSZzetakBIQLxz9Y5WeUKPdMyaWOjMHCsACg/s1600/dscf0122+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDYIWFCDHeUA9wiyo7ssX_-VjuN2VToedp3f61Bml5gJcO17kzhvTysnwSwCHYEdkKYp56oLGg1qEKrTHzdqZ3b1j_0SOXoGYAMqSZzetakBIQLxz9Y5WeUKPdMyaWOjMHCsACg/s320/dscf0122+%25282%2529.jpg" height="320" n4="true" width="296" /></a>For our wedding favors, we made our first small publication, a short booklet about our love story that God had so clearly orchestrated, as He had answered hundreds of specific prayers, small to huge, bringing us together. We included pictures of our journals, emails, and letters we had written each other in the booklet. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sdf6VolR4VIxHnlY3qqVekPZpOcSzRG5NoAm_LcIjr_87UgJnsw8s3t18dbua5wbRMl6jv8o_Nvb1kkotVtJ6lxGLFhX3wzQ-nkLwjdwZBAor4eyCzKeE0yRX8iAx73JjrS3OA/s1600/p2_isaiah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sdf6VolR4VIxHnlY3qqVekPZpOcSzRG5NoAm_LcIjr_87UgJnsw8s3t18dbua5wbRMl6jv8o_Nvb1kkotVtJ6lxGLFhX3wzQ-nkLwjdwZBAor4eyCzKeE0yRX8iAx73JjrS3OA/s320/p2_isaiah.jpg" height="310" n4="true" width="320" /></a>God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit bless, preserve, and keep you. The Lord mercifully with His favor look upon you and so fill you with all spirtual blessing and grace that you may live together in this life so as to bring honor and fame to His name now and forever. Amen.<br />
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Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-86441015306400228242011-01-01T18:06:00.009-06:002011-01-01T18:40:07.640-06:00Holiday GreetingsDear Everyone,<br />
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Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! We hope you have enjoyed a wonderful 2010. Life as a single mom and grieving widow is one of the hardest things I've ever done, but as Mary Beth Chapman, wife of Steven Curtis Chapman, says, "I believe God can handle my heart, my questions, and my anger. It's okay to want [Andrew] back. It's okay to be angry. The question is, what do I do with it all? What do I do with God? In the midst of such heartbreak, do I really believe that <em>all</em> things work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose" (Chapman, <em>Choosing to See)</em>? Alongside such darkness, loneliness, and pain, the Lord has blessed us with great richness in our life as well. <br />
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AJ is five now and enjoying his first year in kindergarten. He loves sticks, trees, snow, and paper airplanes. He is a very loving and sweet boy, who has always seemed to understand everything that's going on around him.<br />
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Gracie, who is four, is very strong, independent, and fearless, so much like her papa. She is a very sweet girl and loves to make new friends, whether at St. Andrew Preschool or anywhere new she goes.<br />
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</div>They both love to make up silly and elaborate stories and are always showering me with lots of kisses and hugs. While they still talk about their papa and say how they miss him almost every other day, they are fun kids that love to run around with each other and are always laughing.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The children keep me very busy, but I can't help but keep writing and am grateful to be able to be dancing weekly my favorite dance classes I've ever taken in my life. One is at the Academy of Russian Ballet and the other is a cardio dance class, where our amazing instructor has us do every dance form under the sun in an hour-and-15 minutes from all kinds of Latin, to tap, to ballet, to Broadway, to Indian, and any other form of dance that you can think of. <br />
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We are grateful for our church and all our relationships there and in Minnesota.</div><br />
Hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season!<br />
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Love,<br />
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Grace, AJ, and Gracie<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3uDCon7fOq1M2NVjrpfyKkNIOjPonvwLxo4FaE1yHAg-rcMXj_n7jzVFrUgKjjJ1d1P4pLCi_zG2LGYQJowKWcOLYhDEqF7Ce2A-Zh-YNOTweT8PHB63G65G5EfB9Y0JTCdKDA/s1600/DSCF1914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3uDCon7fOq1M2NVjrpfyKkNIOjPonvwLxo4FaE1yHAg-rcMXj_n7jzVFrUgKjjJ1d1P4pLCi_zG2LGYQJowKWcOLYhDEqF7Ce2A-Zh-YNOTweT8PHB63G65G5EfB9Y0JTCdKDA/s320/DSCF1914.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"></div>Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-57212707289792463192010-11-21T15:24:00.419-06:002010-11-24T16:50:41.518-06:00Community<em>"...for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." (Matthew 6:8)</em><br />
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I love how Minnesota is so community-oriented. What is great is that we are only twenty minutes from Minneapolis and have all the amenities of a city accessible, but at the same time lakes everywhere (like 4 within a mile of our house), along with the corresponding walking trails and large parks and play structures for the kids. Each day you will always bump into someone from your small group from church or a neighbor at the coffee shop, the Eden Prairie Mall, the library, a lake, or AJ or Gracie’s schools.<br />
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Also, there is a culture of "Minnesota nice." People born here complain that it is artificial, which it may be, but frankly if someone is thinking mean thoughts inside, I much prefer them keeping it to themselves rather than ruining someone's day, who will then ruin someone else's day, ruining the culture in a domino effect. I really appreciate that there is a culture of kindness to neighbors, smiling at everyone you make eye contact with, and trying to be helpful. I have to say from the perspective of someone who's had a lot of bad days, a smile from a stranger on the other side of the cash register makes a world of difference. (Actually, the first year after Andrew died, 3 different times 3 different ladies asked me if I needed a hug when they saw me crying in my car, at Ikea, and I can't remember the third place, probably a coffee shop. I accepted. I needed a hug.)<br />
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We moved to Minnesota three years ago last September. Five months after that, and a few weeks after we moved into our house (we didn't even have much furniture at the time, and thus had nowhere to unpack a lot of our boxes still), Andrew was diagnosed for the second time with cancer. I am so grateful that the Lord moved us here before then, because I can't imagine being able to get through the last three years without our church and my neighbors. I've talked a lot about my church on this blog, so this particular blog, I'm going to talk more about others in my community who I consider provisions from the Lord, even though they probably don't think of themselves that way.<br />
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After moving into our house, one morning, I specifically prayed that the Lord would provide a neighbor who's yard we could be back-and-forth in. A few days later, I found out Sarah was moving next door from Northern California. The first time I met her, before she even walked into her new house, she walked over to me in my backyard. I was so excited. Also, as Andrew got sicker, it occurred to me that I would no longer have time to take the kids to the park every day, so I prayed the Lord would drop a play structure from heaven, knowing with Andrew so sick, I could not even think about looking for one to buy. The next day, Sarah walked over to tell us they had just purchased a giant play structure and that they wanted our kids to always play on it without having to ask them, and even when they weren't home. Every single day, now, AJ plays with her son Adrien, who is one year older than AJ, outside after school. They are back-and-forth between our two yards, using their yard for the play structure, and our yard for the open, flat grass. <br />
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Sarah used to have the kids and I over for dinner once a week for the first six <i>months</i> after Andrew died. Even though she said she wanted to do that, I probably would have felt too shy to keep going, if she didn't call me every week beforehand and make sure that we were still coming.<br />
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Various neighbors anonymously snow-blowed my driveway and walkway whenever it snowed (which was almost constantly), sometimes before I even knew it had snowed. In Minnesota, this is everything, because the snow does not melt at all here until March or April or maybe even May. So if it is snowing and the snow is not getting shoveled every two hours, I'm not really sure how you'd get out of your driveway for a few months. I certainly did not know back then. It was not even something I had thought about. It was as if the Lord used tens of people to take care of us, when I didn't even get a chance to worry about what would happen if these things weren't taken care of.<br />
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Sarah also drew our neighbors together in a way I had always wished to have, but was not at a place in my life where I, myself, could organize anything between the neighbors. Sarah made sure that our four families got together once a month for dinner. This is how I met my neighbors, Melissa and Mary Anne. Not only do our families get together for dinner, but we ladies get together just us sometimes too. This was wonderful for me to have when Andrew died, because while he was sick I really hadn't had a chance to form any friendships that were based on just enjoying each other. All the relationships we had in Minnesota mostly revolved around people ministering to us in whatever ways they could find to help people they had never known previous to our trial. Nobody knew Andrew as everyone before knew him. No one here knew him as the super hotty that looked like a model (well, actually his friends referred to him as "the model," since he was asked to model for a Korean catalogue once, even though he wasn't Korean). Few here knew him as one of the most capable, efficient people they had ever met. Most people here knew him only because he was so physically weak, had speech impediments, looked much older than he was, and who's health made our family needy of so much help. <br />
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Having friends to hang out with from church or my neighbors, just us, and no children, helps me to feel human again. It helps me to breath again, recharge, and remind me that life doesn't always have to feel so relentlessly heavy, but that for a few hours, I, Grace, can still feel carefree, even though I'm not a kid anymore, and even after all I've been through and am still going through, and all the responsibilities I have. That is a provision and kindness of the Lord, who knows we are human and knows we need rest and laughter. <br />
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Aside from snowblowing my driveway, my neighbors, Mary Anne and Doug, still think of us after all this time, and if they happen to cook too much food one night, they give us a call. They are such sweet people. <br />
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Though I hardly knew her at the time, as Andrew was dying, Melissa called me and said that even though she knew I had my church to take care of me, sometimes neighbors can help in a unique way due to their proximity. The first six months after Andrew died, when the horror that Andrew would not be coming home for dinner would hit, many nights I would walk the kids to Melissa's house and knock on her door in desperation. She would invite us in to have dinner with her family. I think God has specially gifted Melissa to be a friend to widows and people who are ill. You would never imagine someone so capable and has never been through anything like this before could understand such weakness, yet it is as if as she prays for us, God specially gifts her with insights into our hurts and struggles, so that she can understand as much as one on the outside possibly could understand. <br />
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I consider Melissa to be the female version of Andrew. She's one of the most practical, level-headed women I know, yet so fun at the same time. I call her all the time for her opinion on various decisions, from small to big, and her responses always sound so logical and rational, reminding me of Andrew. It's as if the Lord has provided her to balance me, similar to the way Andrew used to. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooper and Kayla (Mary Anne's kids), Gracie, Avery and Isaac (Melissa's kids), and AJ.</td></tr>
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There are countless people I could keep mentioning that I've never mentioned on this blog. Like a couple of Andrew's co-workers that live a few blocks away and would initiate coming to find things that needed repairing before I even thought about those things. <br />
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As a newly widowed mom of two very little ones, I did not have the liberty to check out in my grief. I definitely was not as present as normal people were; I was always preoccupied with Andrew in my head, but the Lord kept my hands moving, taking care of my children, and kept people coming to fill in so many gaps before I knew there were gaps to fill.<br />
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I am grateful that the kids were exactly the age they were when Andrew died - 3 and 4. They had both just gotten out of diapers but were not as independent as they are now, and most of all, they still took an afternoon nap. I could keep them as extensions of my arms, which meant they required less of my mental energy as they do now. <br />
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It is amazingly hard being a single mom. Additionally, no one takes my kids on weekends the way they might if I lived in New Jersey near my parents or Andrew' parents or the way I hear a lot of single moms have, and after nearly two years of this, I am totally worn out. But it helps me to think back to how the Lord has exercised abundant grace to me in all my needs before I knew what I needed, and that I need to trust that His character has not changed and that He always keeps His promises. "...for your Father knows what you need before you ask him" (Matthew 6:8). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIhS-19TItVgC6w_p2h-V_K1bh57xoKLR-D9hScBjZXowLHKkDHDx989YV4gAs51azaXKBFCG6WiV5NgBgTHeAbPb8CifkDFqvN3znq44wj0pWiivLkytdw0Fn-U0s8EP-aAq2Q/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCIhS-19TItVgC6w_p2h-V_K1bh57xoKLR-D9hScBjZXowLHKkDHDx989YV4gAs51azaXKBFCG6WiV5NgBgTHeAbPb8CifkDFqvN3znq44wj0pWiivLkytdw0Fn-U0s8EP-aAq2Q/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Melissa, Mary Anne, me, Sarah and baby Owen on Mary Anne's birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So grateful for such wonderful neighbors.</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6XhguU_B5MR0lVPSG8gF9xXUxaOckmY4v4HdCpXB_TPBpYqmJYg06YqPL0oUdPFd4tw_NI1AMj4l8lssuZsuOBg6a0p6B2piLZD8eliACQ6NRxyfcFWvue07_ZPB78PexKBxJA/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6XhguU_B5MR0lVPSG8gF9xXUxaOckmY4v4HdCpXB_TPBpYqmJYg06YqPL0oUdPFd4tw_NI1AMj4l8lssuZsuOBg6a0p6B2piLZD8eliACQ6NRxyfcFWvue07_ZPB78PexKBxJA/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpIgZmxycIdu-CuA9S6ipdvn76B5s_BkpVDb3ZgSAjTaxPVmynMdS-ZXmLsggXX_kWjaZ9L2LM8PIrNnUzLgvQyestBshQv3DUEz0uIG1s907sp9mZfwAdzlhWZzUpDxg8LLAzQ/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpIgZmxycIdu-CuA9S6ipdvn76B5s_BkpVDb3ZgSAjTaxPVmynMdS-ZXmLsggXX_kWjaZ9L2LM8PIrNnUzLgvQyestBshQv3DUEz0uIG1s907sp9mZfwAdzlhWZzUpDxg8LLAzQ/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The kids dancing at my church friend, Anne’s house</span></span></div></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEfR51QN2B6tSzWamQgQBcLKMe_U-hPVbT4NMR6W4NuWdEhVUooX2rgNaAzvH1pqUkTChjWpCzDqYc87schR9jOau60f_4GMOIxqNw1qFQqAqJcrQzH7iLn5V8HV9mX0cEH-fVw/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEfR51QN2B6tSzWamQgQBcLKMe_U-hPVbT4NMR6W4NuWdEhVUooX2rgNaAzvH1pqUkTChjWpCzDqYc87schR9jOau60f_4GMOIxqNw1qFQqAqJcrQzH7iLn5V8HV9mX0cEH-fVw/s320/012.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzrgacC4HpMY74xseelkTRh7rLjjA4RwIZAT2GO5nw0n3DxDgnPROf93z40ZQ9dhQZwXBn0C2ZybgFQAQGkwO2u96XkgsTthmbnB9Clu6XCT3dGZyoYoIFWenBHF_RZS96MSe3Q/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPzrgacC4HpMY74xseelkTRh7rLjjA4RwIZAT2GO5nw0n3DxDgnPROf93z40ZQ9dhQZwXBn0C2ZybgFQAQGkwO2u96XkgsTthmbnB9Clu6XCT3dGZyoYoIFWenBHF_RZS96MSe3Q/s320/008.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8VCHyQcleH3SRPTTzYochJW9yaACISGUMisjmLbVeui7f_xqpAQVmpemVW0YE2UxIv7-OzSR7oHHn3u8KYJPp7w2Jpl8wf0QnVuimp73loUqBOs40aqnHYvjLb5qIkY8eNMiIA/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8VCHyQcleH3SRPTTzYochJW9yaACISGUMisjmLbVeui7f_xqpAQVmpemVW0YE2UxIv7-OzSR7oHHn3u8KYJPp7w2Jpl8wf0QnVuimp73loUqBOs40aqnHYvjLb5qIkY8eNMiIA/s320/009.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don't be fooled. I wish their relationship always looked this harmonious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I took a picture – an occasion of picture perfect.</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5si3omKX3UJP4AfvOU1ILod_h4Nz06alJIdcaJVI1EnrmAJjUWr4GJC41RMiH2FDFJybBF6orm6dDdxFOHPdpthFRxiVvAMtSbVduhUVv746JRGvfU4HHMhwqzjhnIVcyO9cNgA/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5si3omKX3UJP4AfvOU1ILod_h4Nz06alJIdcaJVI1EnrmAJjUWr4GJC41RMiH2FDFJybBF6orm6dDdxFOHPdpthFRxiVvAMtSbVduhUVv746JRGvfU4HHMhwqzjhnIVcyO9cNgA/s320/055.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Halloween day, My neighbors Melissa, her invisible husband beside her, Tom, Mary Anne, and taking every precaution during huntin’ season, Doug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re awesome.</span></span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIcAJurebi5uUO1m-vUkI1GHhDyG1yMRg1DxLAg-9ixjhxKkod9SwaQnVgsxHM_xY_cmBwB4fOxH5KKzUCv2yi2Q2eNDluqF0HDy-EFuy8h_f7NnjdxjiaLikRku0DkBrwE21Ew/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIcAJurebi5uUO1m-vUkI1GHhDyG1yMRg1DxLAg-9ixjhxKkod9SwaQnVgsxHM_xY_cmBwB4fOxH5KKzUCv2yi2Q2eNDluqF0HDy-EFuy8h_f7NnjdxjiaLikRku0DkBrwE21Ew/s320/027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: ""sans-serif"", "serif"; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Church was cancelled today due to severe black ice making the streets like an ice rink, giving us 5 extra hours to our Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we put on a blazing fire, hot chocolate, and decorated for Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div></div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKNZfXv6xmVLqy0sx1DPi8P0MqgixzDWuFyH6oILimM0fyTtLJZHFWs8Gg-c6OXrzKKXOMmGo_jV5jLLMSgtQ8QCGa_Z-FCpFzUT8xmlXibYMLklxmATiGpiUFrT8RX1xL8Pd6Q/s1600/009+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKNZfXv6xmVLqy0sx1DPi8P0MqgixzDWuFyH6oILimM0fyTtLJZHFWs8Gg-c6OXrzKKXOMmGo_jV5jLLMSgtQ8QCGa_Z-FCpFzUT8xmlXibYMLklxmATiGpiUFrT8RX1xL8Pd6Q/s320/009+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only 1/4 of small group showed up at my house Sunday night. But since our small group is 4 times larger than normal, it worked out just fine. We always have a potluck and eat dinner together. </td></tr>
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<strong>AJ's School</strong><br />
<br />
AJ's kindergarten is a few blocks from our house. I am very grateful that the school was able to accomodate us, and AJ was able to get a male teacher. It is amazing to me that for the first time in almost two years, AJ gets to have a male influence in his life five times a a week. Obviously that influence is spread out over 13 children and is not as personal as AJ had before, but it's definitely an improvement over the last nearly 2 years without any consistent male influence. Also, it is amazing to me that AJ's class is the smallest in the school; the next smallest class has 20 students, so that that attention is spread out over 13, but not spread out as much as it would be in a more average-sized class. And, his teacher is very attentive to all his students and gives each of them special attention whenever he gets the chance, kneeling to their level, looking them straight in the eye, asking them lots of questions about themselves. So AJ will come home and tell me when he bumped into his teacher before class and his teacher will sit down with him and eagerly converse for a few minutes then, or on the playground, or even when he bumps into him around town. This makes AJ so happy. Finally, his teacher has had a student before who lost a father, so he already has some experience with a student in AJ's situation.<br />
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Andrew's letters say to get as involved in AJ's kindergarten as possible. I am hoping to volunteer in AJ’s class once a week. So far, I have helped out three times. Parents are so involved that every single day of the week is filled on the volunteer schedule. Since AJ's teacher welcomes parents to come in as much as they want in addition to the schedule, when I went to help once, there were four of us parents volunteering. <br />
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AJ’s teacher gets a lot of things done with the kids in a very short amount of time. In the one hour I am there, they will do the alphabet, have a snack, play a game, work on reading, work on an art project, play outside, go to the bathroom or drink water on their way back inside, and work on learning the calendar and how to describe the weather outside. I also find it interesting that the chalk/white board is such a peripheral aspect of their learning. Instead, central to their learning is the “Smartboard,” which is like a board-sized computer that you control with your touch, like a giant i-phone or i-pad.<br />
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The most recent time I helped in AJ's classroom, each of us parents lead a small group of students read a beginner reading book. I loved being able to reinforce and teach AJ and three of his classmates how to sound out the words. I love getting to know who all of AJ's classmates are and see Andreus, who AJ calls his best friend, and Andreus’ twin brother, Matteo. We’ve had play dates with them, and I’m getting to know their family. Together, the three of them look like triplets to me, since they are also half-Filipino (they're dad is originally from the Philippines and their mother is German). The twins seem to be drawn to Filipinos, as Andreus is always approaching AJ, and whenever I come into the class, Matteo always hangs onto my hand. When I’m in AJ's classroom, he's always so excited to have me there and always wants me to stand or sit next to him, holds my hand, hugs me and asks for kisses. Kindergarten boys are at an age in their development where they need a lot of affection that they won't be as needy for later, so I love that AJ can go to school and still get all the hugs and affection from his mom that he asks during those times, since I'm right there with him. <br />
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AJ was not very interested in learning the alphabet with me last year, but he loves all the movements they do with the sounds of the letters in school. I think the positive pressure of all his classmates beside him gets him excited about whatever they're doing as well. In the clip below they are working on their alphabet using the Smartboard at the front. AJ is in the green shirt on the right side of the screen, turning around because he's looking for me. Sorry for the pathetic camera-manship. I kept trying to bend down low behind the table, so they wouldn't notice me with the camera.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/1706839399629" /><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/1706839399629" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="300"></embed></object></div>Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10758326.post-60675535520668500172010-09-09T04:31:00.005-05:002013-11-21T12:36:51.396-06:00The School Bus and BloodWell, I'm sure you've noticed the change in the appearance of this blog. For the first time since its creation over 5.5 years ago, this blog looks different. My first entry in February 2005 was about the birth of my first-born AJ (short for Andrew Junior). Well today, Wednesday, Sept. 8, 2010 marks my first-born's first day at real school and first time on a school bus from home to school and back. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFuf6-3HAdJEVAjZvdfyEEx9AslAMgKVpggrtgQK9KHG_rtwxFDUIaFhEjLsKdRwPB5egj1IHTeuEuuAgb-QN2Hkece3NnLLeX2IDwDhzstmHOkoTSbn_NoiSIPznX_ThfTF2Ow/s1600/004+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFuf6-3HAdJEVAjZvdfyEEx9AslAMgKVpggrtgQK9KHG_rtwxFDUIaFhEjLsKdRwPB5egj1IHTeuEuuAgb-QN2Hkece3NnLLeX2IDwDhzstmHOkoTSbn_NoiSIPznX_ThfTF2Ow/s320/004+-+Copy.JPG" /></a></div><br />
AJ started afternoon kindergarten today. I was so proud of AJ, jumping up and down, skipping beside him as I held his hand to the bus stop. <br />
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Andrew had some words for this very occasion:<br />
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<b><i>Elementary school (Kindergarten or 1st grade) – could reread this letter each year and make adjustments.</i></b><br />
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<em>Dear AJ, </em><br />
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<em>I love you so much. Going to school is a wonderful experience, but it is also a great challenge that I know that you can overcome with the Lord's help. I remember first going to school as a child and feeling a little bit afraid because there were so many new people and I wasn't with my mom anymore. I hope you're excited about going to school and meeting lots of new people. You'll make new friends and learn lots of new things. Don't ever be afraid to go to school and face the challenges God has placed in front of you. I remember when you were 3.5 you used to be afraid to go upstairs alone because it was dark. We used to tell you that it was okay, you're a big boy, you can do it. Then one Friday night we were watching a movie in front of the fireplace and Mom asked you to go upstairs and you said, "I'm a little bit big. I can go upstairs by myself because God is with me. </em><br />
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<em>"Deut 31:6 " Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the LORD your God is the one who goes with you He will not fail you or forsake you." </em><br />
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<em>Acts 20:35 "In everything I showed you that by working hard in this manner you must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He Himself said, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"</em><br />
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<em>Do all that you can to love your neighbors. Serve them and make them happy. Take care of your mom and you sister. Tonight, January 20, 2009 you and I were talking in your bed and you told me that you were very happy because you love your sister and you get to have her around all the time. That made me so happy to hear because my prayer for you often is that you will love your sister for who she is, and value her and take care of her as an older brother. I asked you what you love about her and you said that you love her because she's always there to play with a and you tell her all about what you are doing with your toys and you guys use your imagination together as you run around the house "tending" its a space ship, or farm, or train or something fun. You'll always have a wonderful imagination. You and Gracie share such an incredible life together because you are close in age. Keep looking out for her best interest, and as you get older be a help to your mom. </em><br />
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<em>As a man, you need to be a leader and take on great responsibilities. If others around you sin, don't follow after them but turn away from it and get help if needed. People may not like you because you don't sin with them, but remember that you are always accepted by God, me, and your mom. Give yourself to others, and God will bless you. God is always watching you, He is everywhere and nothing is hidden from His sight. <br />
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I love you so much and I wish I could be there with you. <br />
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Love, <br />
<br />
Papa</em><br />
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<u>Like Wesley from Star Trek the Next Generation, God?</u><br />
I feel as if I'm down to the dregs - the nasty, gritty stuff at the bottom of your drink that you probably didn't know was there - in my grieving process now, and the Lord has been showing me areas of grief that I've never grieved. I think I've avoided them because they are the most painful losses for me. <br />
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One area of avoided grief is the fact that I no longer have Andrew to enjoy the children with. It is probably the 2nd worst disappointment that came with Andrew's death. <br />
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Enjoying the children together was one of Andrew's and my favorite things, and one of the sweetest enjoyments of our entire lives. The children were what kept Andrew and I laughing every day, even through our darkest days through cancer. <br />
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What I wrote on a May 14, 2008 blog before Andrew died has still been my heart:<br />
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<i>What about our kids, Lord? I don't want them to have to long for a father and be like that kid, Wesley, from Star Trek the Next Generation, who only had a hologram of his father delivering a message, and he seemed so real he could touch him, but then the holographic message ended and his father disappeared. <br />
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Come on, God, I don't want them to not even remember him or know how much he loved them </i>- My grace is sufficient. You know I will take care of you.<br />
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<i>How will I take care of them?</i> You know I will take care of you.<br />
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<i>How will I live without him?</i> You know I will take care of you.<br />
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I've really avoided crying about the fact that the children don't have their adored father. I think that for the first year after Andrew's death, I relied upon the Lord's promise that He is a Father to the fatherless. But after the first year, I think I've had a silent, subtle, gradually growing bitterness in my heart about it. As I've begun to realize how I have suppressed this aspect of my grief, it is allowing me to increasingly bring it before the Lord and cry it out like a mad woman. <br />
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As I had to visit AJ's kindergarten last week to meet his teacher, I cried driving to his school and back. Sad that my first-born was not the baby that I wanted to always be my baby. Sad that I was sending him off without Andrew next to me. Heartbroken about our dashed dreams to have a house overflowing with children. Flashbacks to the days of walking with my infant on my chest in Snohomish, WA when I thought I couldn't imagine a day when I wouldn't want an infant. A constant flow of little ones had seemed good to me. You can see I wrote about it on the very first blogs. <br />
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And so I have found myself increasingly bitter that bogged down by carrying the full responsibility of my family, rather than sharing it with my husband, I feel as if I miss out on fully enjoying the children during their fleeting littleness the way Andrew and I did together. <br />
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Since I've realized this subtle bitterness in my heart, I have been confessing it to the Lord and trying to be sensitive to when I feel the loss, (which is actually daily and frequently, as if Andrew's absence makes our day feel like swiss cheese without him, despite how I have managed to avoid it) so that I can cry through it and bring it all before the Lord honestly. To suppress it is just to rely upon myself. But self-reliance doesn't glorify the Lord and only bears thorns, like bitterness or (if you're good at your efforts) self-righteousness, rather than the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Only the Lord can heal and change my heart, so I must be in a constant state of confession, when necessary, and just general transparency with Him like the Best Friend I could ever have.<br />
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<u>Are You Good, God?</u><br />
I have been terrible about crying regularly since the one year anniversary of Andrew's death. Maybe the only way I don't cry is simply by not remembering how good my time with Andrew was. But when I have sudden, unexpected flashbacks, the pain nearly kills me. Perhaps one of the reasons I cried every day the first year was because if I didn't pace myself, the accumulated grief attacking me all at once would have broken me.<br />
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Andrew's birthday is in 3 days, on September 11th. Yesterday, I watched some videos of us. It seems that my coping methods are to block out how much I loved Andrew. I always find myself surprised when I see videos that we are so often looking in each other's eyes, constantly smiling at each other. I have a hard time remembering it that way, thinking such things are too good to be true and can't really exist, let alone have been something I lived. Tonight I wept like a broken animal that had been run over, wailing its last cries as I remembered those images of us smiling at each other. <br />
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And so another area in which I have avoided grieving is that my whole identity for the first three years of our marriage was that I believed I was going to spend the rest of my life with Andrew. When I changed my last name from Uriarte to Mark, my name became Grace Mark, but in my head it was: "Grace<strong> [-I'm-Going-to-Spend-the-Rest-of-My-Life-with-ANDREW-]</strong> MARK<strong>[!!!]</strong>"<br />
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I was surprised one day this summer by the cynicism of the thoughts popping into my head: "Weddings are a waste of time." "Weddings are a farce." "My wedding was all a big stupid joke of which I was the butt." To me, my wedding was a celebration of Christ sovereignly and graciously orchestrating Andrew's life and my life to bring us together at just the right time so that we could spend the <em>rest of our lives together. </em>My thoughts continued to pipe in: "What a stupid fool I was with that naive, hope-filled smile on my face in all my wedding pictures, because I thought I was going to spend my life with Andrew. What a big to-do about something that was never going to happen." "I thought I had no idea what life would bring us but it didn't matter as long as we were together." "There were only two things I thought I knew in my life - that I would spend all of eternity with Jesus and all of my life with Andrew. To have been wrong about the latter would almost be as bad as finding out Christianity is a farce. Talk about a paradigm shift..." <em><br />
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After putting the kids to bed, sitting in the darkness, I whispered, "If You were going to take him, why couldn't we have had a more average, a more lukewarm romance? Why would You give me near perfection, give me beyond what I could dare to imagine in a husband, if You were just going to take him away? Why would You make the pain all that much sharper? Why would You possibly want to do that? For what lessons? Am I really that much more horrible of a sinner than everyone else spared from such horror that I can't learn with less severe trials, with more generic trials? If You loved me, what loving Father would take a knife to His cherished daughter's chest and cut out her heart knowingly? On purpose?" <br />
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I cried my eyes out.<br />
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Then, through my hot tears, just as I was about to address God, as "God," what slipped out instead was, "Why would <i>Jesus</i> do that to me?" And at that name, images of my gory Savior glimmered, flashes of blood dripping down His arms, the One who died for my sin that I hurt Him with each day. The One who's blood I cry out for cleansing each day and claim as my reason for drawing near to the GOD OF THE UNIVERSE with confidence as <i>my</i> Papa. With those images, thoughts began to seep in: "No, He by no means seeks to harm you. He is no evil god. Just as you tenderly love your squeezable Gracie and your precocious AJ, infinitely more does <i>Jesus</i> tenderly love You." <br />
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"Lord," I wept. "You cause my heart to still believe You are good." An unexpected verse that I don't usually think about whispered to my mind: <i>Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</i> (Jeremiah 29:11)<br />
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The questions relented. I didn't have to know why. I just have to know I'm wrapped in His loving arms and His tender lovingkindess encompasses me. And that's enough for me. I'm <i>loved</i>. I'm taken care of. He is good. I can trust Him, though I may not understand. His blood convinces me of His love for me. <br />
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<u>Blogging Again</u><br />
Due to a lot of people expressing how they don't know how the children and I are doing now that I rarely blog, I'm going to attempt to blog more regularly again. I am hoping that this change in blog appearance will encourage me to blog, even if the content may not be about pure misery. If I don't blog regularly, I've opened a twitter account and will try to regularly update that instead. You can follow me at gracemark7 on twitter.com. We'll see how it goes. I'm always disappointed when a blog promises to update you on something in the next post, and then a future post apologizes for never getting around to it. So as far as blogging or tweeting more regularly, I'll just say we'll see how it goes for now =)<br />
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So grateful for all your prayers, and love, and concern for our family. It was so wonderful to catch up with so many of you this summer.Grace Markhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14267571028870160287noreply@blogger.com8