Grace's Journal:

The Pursuit of Publication

2012-01-09T14:52:00.026-06:00

"A Writer?"

I've wanted to be a writer for most of my life.

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!"

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. And so, their libraries became my feeding ground. In fourth grade, I read J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, 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.

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 for 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 with a name like "Grace Uriarte."

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 red or blue," (imagine in an eloquent, British accent), "it has to do with the processes 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.

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.

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 Stepping Heavenward, a fictional journal of a young woman. As a teenager, she is self-absorbed, shallow, and you are not even convinced she is really 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. Wow! I thought. One can glorify God through fiction! 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.

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 loved 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 His 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.

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.

How Will I Ever Write Again?

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?

During that pregnancy, I volunteered at the local 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.

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."

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.

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.

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 that 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 would skim 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 it was ever published. And that is why I always responded with doubt when Andrew would talk 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 publication 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.

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, and I read his journals, I saw that he also wrote in them of this desire for me. And in his letter that I've shared on this blog before, he said 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."

The Process of Writing "Our Book"

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.

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, Where does one go when one hits a brick wall? I read an extremely helpful book, Your Book Starts Here, by Mary Carol Moore. I read other memoirs and novels, looking for examples of how they handled certain techniques.

I had a vision in my mind of what I wanted the book to be. I was insistent about what kind of journey, what kind of experience I must make this book be for the reader. 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 in my mind. Regardless of how many pages I did or didn't write, I only cared that my vision for my book was accomplished.

This book was completely new. It was not the blog. It was our love story and the untold details of our cancer trial.

There were many times I wanted to give up. But committing to publishing is like committing to marriage. Some days aren't good, but a marriage won't work without full commitment. What if I'm wasting my time? What if I never finish the book? And even if I do, what if I never publish for my whole entire life? 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!

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 came out of it. My memories no longer weighed on my shoulders. They were crafted into a narrative on paper.

I was completely burnt out from relentlessly working on the book. I thought I might never want to write again, or at least not edit that first draft into a final one. I thought maybe the desperation to publish this book might have relented. Could I live my life without ever publishing this book? Perhaps all this desperation to publish that I deep down felt for so many years, maybe it would finally leave me alone without ever having to publish? Maybe I just needed to write this book for my own grief process and that's it?

The Editors

The next day, I attended a Christian writer's conference where I was able to speak face-to-face with one acquisitions editor. I'll call him Editor A. I showed Editor A the first five pages of my book. And to my surprise, he gave me the best words I could have hoped for. He told me it was compelling and well-written and that I should shoot for a large publishing house - whether Christian or general market - rather than a small one like his.

From there, I did not know what the next step was, except that I knew I was burnt out and could not take any further steps until I recovered. So, I focused on my life with my kids and did nothing with the book. Then, six weeks later, by chance, when I was with my friend, she introduced me to someone high up in a large Christian publishing house - we'll call him Editor B. I knew his position and instead of talking to him like one normally would talk to someone they have just met in a normal social situation, I immediately launched into trying to sell him my manuscript (forget the fact that it was still in its first draft). He was so kind, and probably due to his compassion about the trial I had been through said, "Okay, then why don't you email me your book proposal."

When I returned home and looked at the one page book proposal I had written at 3am before the Christian writers conference from the summer, I realized it would clearly not do. So I spent the rest of the fall writing a book proposal and trying to figure out what, in fact, was a book proposal after all? I also heavily edited those first five pages I had originally showed Editor A as well as heavily edited an additional chapter from my book. And then, shortly before Thanksgiving, I finally emailed him my book proposal along with sample chapters. I prayed that even if he rejected it that it would not be a dead end, because I had no idea where to go next. I did not know how to edit my first draft without some additional direction. If he didn't publish my book, I still hadn't decided whether I was aiming for a Christian publisher or general market, which I really needed to know, since that would greatly shape the way I edited my manuscript.

I didn't know where I fit in. I had learned from a literary agents' panel at the Christian writers conference that the Christian market didn't like memoir. The only personal stories Christian houses tended to publish were missionary biographies. Yet, in general market, memoir was the most popular genre. As I looked at my chapters, it was clear that my book was so utterly Christian. It was unlikely to be publishable for the general market.

Two weeks after emailing my proposal and sample chapters, I got a response. Editor B had such encouraging words to say, it did not even feel like a rejection. I had never thought being rejected by a publishing company would feel so exhilarating. Was this how Christian editors reject people? Did both Editor A and Editor B just feel too sorry for me to tell me the truth and were just being nice? But isn't rejection what they do for a living? Is this how they reject all people? This wasn't the cursory way the writing books described rejection letters. Wasn't all rejection supposed to feel like a college rejection letter? In addition to his extremely encouraging words, Editor B then said that while they don't publish personal stories, he had just received a note from someone at another publishing house to send along writers to them, as they tend to attract similar types of authors. Editor B said I could tell them he sent me.

So onto the next publishing house. Again, never mind that my manuscript is still in its first draft. Besides, while some publishing houses expect that your manuscript is perfect before you ever contact them, others prefer you have not completed writing it, so that they can shape the book with you. Using Editor B's suggestions, I took a few days to edit my proposal. Then I emailed Editor C my five page book proposal and two sample chapters. I immediately received one of those automatic emails that confirms they received my email.

The next morning, I got two personal emails from two different contacts at Editor C's publishing house that they had indeed received my proposal and would be reviewing it more closely shortly. What was this, two personal emails just to let me know that they had received it and had already quickly looked it over? You're supposed to hear nothing for up to 6-8 weeks and then expect never to hear from them at all if they haven't already contacted you. Two days later, Editor C emails that he wanted to see additional specific chapters that he indicated. (My book proposal contained chapter summaries, so he knew what was contained in those particular chapters he asked for). Thankfully, I had already thoroughly edited one of the requested chapters, because my writing group was meeting that week for the first time in months, and I had just emailed it to them. But the other chapters - were they even coherent? I spent the weekend feverishly editing his requested chapters.

I emailed those chapters, assuming he meant for me to send them right away. But I knew that those chapters were not as strong as the ones I had originally sent him, knowing I had edited the original ones for two months before sending them, as opposed to a few days.

I also knew that when I looked at the list of books that Editors B and C's publishing houses had published, I did not see any personal stories. They were only manuals written by well-known pastors. The books usually were originally sermons that these pastors, I assumed, unlike me, did not have to publish like they had a looney tunes bomb lit inside of them about to explode at any second if publication never happened. In themselves, their sermons had already helped their congregation and online listeners. If those sermons never got published in a book, those pastors knew their sermons had already fulfilled their original purpose, which was for their congregation.

But my book - "our book" - well, I wasn't a well-known pastor. I was a writer. Who wrote to be read. This book had never been read before. And if it only stayed on my hard drive, well then, maybe it was just a journal. And all that work - no one would benefit, except for me. And was that enough for me? Would I ever be okay with that?

A few weeks passed and Editor C responded about the additional chapters - I got the cursory rejection letter that I actually was curious to taste. It tasted like a college rejection letter. It tasted bland, and left a hollow, loser-ish feeling in my belly.

I ran to my room and kneeled quietly before the Lord. I did not even know what to pray. I opened my Bible not knowing where to turn. My mind was blank. I paged to the Psalms and happened upon Psalm 118 and it ministered to my heart. "Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting...."

And,
"It is better to take refuge in the LORD
Than to trust in man."

And,
"I will not die, but live,
And tell of the works of the LORD.
The LORD has disciplined me severely,
But He has not given me over to death.

And,
"This is the LORD’S doing;
It is marvelous in our eyes.
This is the day which the LORD has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Not to mention, it was AJ's 7th birthday. And I was rejoicing for the 7 years the Lord had blessed me with AJ.

And,
"You are my God, and I give thanks to You;
You are my God, I extol You.
Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting."

Give Up?

As the day went on, I considered, Should I give up? Or, people always say, "Have you ever considered self-publishing?" I've asked other writers, who have not published, that question as well. They always evade the question. I think to a writer, who has never published before but has longed to publish all their lives, who has longed to publish before the digital age and self-publishing, it feels like a cop-out. On the other hand, I heard an author once say, who had published with large, publishing houses back in the 80s and 90s that it is more profitable now for her to self-publish. On her most recent book, she hired out the editing, she hired someone to design her cover, and she paid for all the hard-cover copies of her book. And yet, she still made more money per copy than she had with a traditional publisher. Despite all that she invested up-front, with self-publishing, she makes $5/copy. With a traditional publishing house, she made $1/copy. Nonetheless, those of us without all her experience with traditional publishers that she had before self-publishing, still feel safety in the idea of being taken under the wing of a traditional publisher.

Writers aren't writing for the money. They're writing because they can't help themselves but write. Writers always have the question of "What if I never publish?" Or, if they have published, "What if I never publish again?" Or, "What if it's not good enough?" There seems something unsatisfying about the idea of a publisher never validating the writer, never saying, "Actually, it is good enough." There is something unsatisfying about the writer, instead, just saying, "Who cares what the big professionals of the publishing world says? I can publish myself." But who knows, maybe in a few months, I'll find myself excitedly self-publishing. After all, that author makes an extremely powerful argument for self-publishing.

But I think before I consider self-publishing, these experiences with Editors A,B, and C have given me the direction that I have needed in order to finish editing my book. Having someone specific to write for has shaped my manuscript and their feedback has already improved it so much. Also, as I prayed throughout this process, I decided I would gear this manuscript for a Christian publisher, as opposed to general market. I could still change my mind, but that is the direction I am headed towards. I think I will complete editing my manuscript, then submit it 10, 20, or however many rejections it takes to nearly kill me, and see from there. The Lord has lead me this far, and whenever I thought I might be hitting a dead end while writing this book, He continued to show me the next step.

I mentioned earlier that pursuing the completion and publication of a book is like marriage - you have to be committed both on the bad and the good days in order for it to work. What I didn't mention is that when you do initially commit to marriage, it's because you can't help yourself, you're in love. Well, I couldn't help myself with this book. I had to write this book. I had to complete it. Maybe I love it because it's about my love for Andrew. And now I have to publish it - or at least do everything I can to try.

The Mirth of Christmas

2011-12-23T14:05:00.000-06:00

Great post by R.W. Glenn (my brother-in-law/pastor):

Christmas is supposed to be a time of mirth.

And this needs to be said for two reasons:

First, our non-Christian friends think we're the most mirthless people on earth. We're so serious and worried about breaking the rules and coloring within the lines that there's little room for mirth. By our demeanor, we've take the "Merry" out of "Merry Christmas."

Second, Christians themselves have a hard time embracing the merriness of Christmas. We feel guilty and like we have to apologize for it, as if the fun of Christmas gets in the way of the meaning of Christmas. But the reality is that Christmas without fun is what distorts the meaning of Christmas.

Did you know that the heavenly father feels compelled to celebrate? But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found (Luke 15:32).

Is this how you see God - as a father compelled to celebrate? This verse from Jesus' Parable of the Prodigal Son demonstrates that our father has a Christmas feeling about us. He's a father full of mirth toward his children.

But the irony is you only get to experience it when you see what a sinner you are - when you see your sin for what it is and return to your heavenly father.

Jesus helps us to see ourselves by depicting three kinds of sinners in this parable:

1. The younger brother before he leaves his father: "Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me." And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and...squandered his estate with loose living (Luke 15:12-13).

This is the sinner that's most familiar: the kind who breaks all the rules in defiance of his father.

2. The older brother: For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends (Luke 15:29-30).

This depicts our struggle with sin in a way that isn't so familiar: keeping all the rules to get leverage over God. It's the sin of obedience - of obeying God not because you love God, but because you want God to give you whatever goodies you value more than him and think he owes you.

3. The younger brother before he returns to his father: But when he came to his senses, he said, "I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men' (Luke 15:17-19).

Amazing! The younger brother has come to his senses, realizes where his rule-breaking has led him, and no longer wants to live this way, but instead of running back to his father as his son, he resolves to live as his father's slave! In essence, he's saying, "I'll make up for what I've done. I'll do more and be better and try harder." The problem here is that the younger brother is not yet convinced that his father is full of mercy and mirth. He still has a wrong view of his father. He feels the need to earn a place at the father's table...which is the opposite of the truth.

For even as the younger brother returns, his father shamelessly runs to embrace him and to cut off his son in the middle of his speech about being the father's slave rather than his father's son: But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." But the father said to his slaves, "Give this boy some work to do! He can come home, but only as one of you!" Is that what his father says? Absolutely not! He says to his slaves, "Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found." And they began to celebrate (Luke 15:20-24).

So knowing you're a sinner is essential to your repentance, but it's not enough. You also need to know the mirth of your heavenly father - that he's not at all reluctant to receive you as a son, but is eager to do it! He feels compelled to celebrate your return, even your many, many returns.

What will convince you that this really is your heavenly father's disposition toward you? Look to the son who's conspicuously missing from the parable - the one who is telling it! It's only when you see that the heavenly father gave his only son for older and younger brothers like you that you'll be convinced that he loves you. God's lavish grace revealed at the cross proves that he is the father of mirth.

So this Christmas, I plead with you to repent and return to the father of mirth. Then celebrate. Enjoy every minute of your Christmas as an echo of the true party that your heavenly father is throwing in heaven every time you repent.

- http://www.solidfoodmedia.com/blog/the_mirth_of_christmas

Do You Need Someone to Give You Your Worth?

2011-11-02T16:04:00.096-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I simply missed Andrew.

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."

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.

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?

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.

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.

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).

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."

Jesus loves me infinitely more than any human ever could. Than Andrew ever could love me.

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.

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.

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."

My friend asked, “How do you know that?”

I said, “Because it says it in His Word.”

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.

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.

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?"

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.

The LORD your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

- Zephaniah 3:17

John Piper's Bloodlines

2011-11-01T20:56:00.000-05:00

If you've followed this blog for a long time, you may have picked up that I'm a big John Piper fan. From his Don't Waste Your Cancer 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, Bloodlines, 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:

Bloodlines Documentary with John Piper from Crossway on Vimeo.

Exposed by the Cross

2011-10-27T10:15:00.004-05:00

I 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 The Gospel Primer, by Milton Vincent:

"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.

"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."

- The Gospel Primer: “Exposed by the Cross Part 2”.

Epilogue: I, Grace, Have Risen from the Dead

2011-03-23T06:06:00.013-05:00

This 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.

Love, Look at the Two of Us

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."

He reached for the oil pan above him to his left and 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.

I could hear the oil's hollow sound as it hit the container Andrew had brought to catch it. It was too horrible to imagine. I inhaled the oil's thick, earthy stench.

Andrew broke the silence. "It would be much better to die together."

I quickly agreed. 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.

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.

I snapped my fingers in the exaggerated 1970s way to the jingle and sang with Karen to Andrew:

“Love, look at the two of us,"

I danced as if I was wearing giant, over-sized bell-bottoms and a flowy shirt with flowers, pointing my feet side to side.

"Strangers in many ways."

I turned my head left to right then left to the beat like I was on A Chorus Line, as I walked towards Andrew.

"Let’s take a lifetime to say
I knew you well"

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.

"For only time will
Tell us so
And love may grow
For all we know.”

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!”

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.

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.

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.

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.

The One of Us

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.

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.

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 beginning 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.

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.

I wrote in my journal:

Sunday, November 14, 2010

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 begin 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.

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.

I cried and cried and cried when he said that. I said, "I don't want to live with my life not 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.

The Depths that Lead to Heights

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 - 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.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

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.

I waited patiently for the Lord
And He inclined to me and heard my cry...
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of
praise to our God;
Many will see and fear
And will trust in the Lord
-- Psalm 40:1-3

Perhaps that shall happen. If the Lord delivers, perhaps many will see and fear, and will trust in the Lord.

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.

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.

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 The Hiding Place. 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 has 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 all joy 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 in everything.

Friday, Dec. 12, 2010

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.

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.”

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.

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.

During mine and the kids' 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. I think often depression is just unacknowledged anger.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Seeds of Resurrection

Sunday, Feb. 13, 2011

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.

At church the next day, I cried through singing “Majesty,” feeling so
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.

"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."
-- Isaiah 41:10

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).

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.

New Life

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:

"...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 overflowing out of my little heart, pouring over, and I just feel like I love THE WHOLE WORLD.

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.

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 me? 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.

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.

How I Miss Andrew

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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."

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."

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.

So for now, I think this blog - as in this entire blog, the graceandrew blog, the “Grace’s Journal” blog - is over. For the first time in six years, I no longer have a desire to blog. If I change my mind and feel like blogging again, I'll just delete the first sentence of this paragraph. Maybe I'll start another blog. Maybe it'll be more of the same, memories of Andrew, stories about my kids and our lives. But it will be from someone who has risen from the dead, rather than someone in the trenches of grief.

Please pray for us:
- 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.
- 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.
- And that the Lord would make me raise them in a godly way with strength to consistently shepherd them.

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.

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.

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!

The Two Year Anniversary of Andrew's Death

2011-02-07T16:54:00.014-06:00

Today is the two year anniversary of Andrew' death.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

I believe these lyrics were most meaningful from There Is a Fountain to Andrew as he struggled with tongue cancer:

The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.
Lies silent in the grave, lies silent in the grave;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.

His tongue cancer was over, and he was singing in a nobler sweeter song than he ever had before tongue cancer.

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.

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:

"The splendor of the King,
clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice,
all the earth rejoice

He wraps himself in light,
and darkness tries to hide
it trembles at his voice,
trembles at his voice."

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.

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."

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 this is what it would be like before the throne of God, oh my gosh, I could never imagine this!

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.

And age to age He stands
and time is in His Hands
Beginning and the End,
Beginning and the End

The Godhead, three in one
Father, Spirit, Son
the Lion and the Lamb,
the Lion and the Lamb

Name above all names
you are worthy of all praise
and my heart will sing
how great is our God

Chorus:
How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God
How Great is Our God, Christ Tomlin

Andrew's Memorial Service, part 1 from grace uriarte on Vimeo.

Andrew's Memorial Service, part 2 from grace uriarte on Vimeo.

Slideshow from memorial service:

Seven Years Since that Day

2011-01-10T21:32:00.002-06:00

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.

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.

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.

Andrew's groomsmen were "his boys" from high school and his best man was his brother, Jon.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

For more pictures from our wedding, you can click here: graceandrew.com/weddingpictures.

Holiday Greetings

2011-01-01T18:06:00.009-06:00

Dear Everyone,

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 all things work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose" (Chapman, Choosing to See)? Alongside such darkness, loneliness, and pain, the Lord has blessed us with great richness in our life as well.

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.

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.

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.

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.

We are grateful for our church and all our relationships there and in Minnesota.

Hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season!

Love,

Grace, AJ, and Gracie

Community

2010-11-21T15:24:00.419-06:00

"...for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." (Matthew 6:8)

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.

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.)

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.

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.

Sarah used to have the kids and I over for dinner once a week for the first six months 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Cooper and Kayla (Mary Anne's kids), Gracie, Avery and Isaac (Melissa's kids), and AJ.

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.

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.

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.

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).

Melissa, Mary Anne, me, Sarah and baby Owen on Mary Anne's birthday. So grateful for such wonderful neighbors.

The kids dancing at my church friend, Anne’s house

Don't be fooled. I wish their relationship always looked this harmonious. That’s why I took a picture – an occasion of picture perfect.

On Halloween day, My neighbors Melissa, her invisible husband beside her, Tom, Mary Anne, and taking every precaution during huntin’ season, Doug. They’re awesome.

Church was cancelled today due to severe black ice making the streets like an ice rink, giving us 5 extra hours to our Sunday. So we put on a blazing fire, hot chocolate, and decorated for Christmas.

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.

AJ's School

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The School Bus and Blood

2010-09-09T04:31:00.005-05:00

Well, 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.

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.

Andrew had some words for this very occasion:

Elementary school (Kindergarten or 1st grade) – could reread this letter each year and make adjustments.

Dear AJ,

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.

"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."

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.'"

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.

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.

I love you so much and I wish I could be there with you.

Love,

Papa

Like Wesley from Star Trek the Next Generation, God?
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.

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 disappoinment that came with Andrew's death.

Enjoying the children together was one of mine and Andrew's 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.

What I wrote on a May 14, 2008 blog before Andrew died has still been my heart:

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 program ended.

Come on, God, I don't want them to not even remember him or know how much he loved them - My grace is sufficient. You know I will take care of you.

How will I take care of them? You know I will take care of you.

How will I live without him? You know I will take care of you.

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.

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 baby 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.

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.

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.

Are You Good, God?
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.

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.

And so another area in which I have avoided greiving 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[-I'm-Going-to-Spend-the-Rest-of-My-Life-with-ANDREW-] MARK[!!!]"

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 mine and Andrew's lives to bring us together at just the right time so that we could spend the rest of our lives together. 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 was like a mini version of finding out Christianity is a farce. Talk about a paradigm shift..."

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?"

I cried my eyes out.

Then, through my hot tears, just as I was about to address God, as "God," what slipped out instead was, "Why would Jesus 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 my 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 Jesus tenderly love You."

"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: Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)

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 loved. 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.

Blogging Again
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 =)

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.

Sinatra Preacher Man

2010-05-30T23:34:00.003-05:00

Today is my brother's in law birthday. My sister was asking me to put a video up of him singing. I never got around to it, but figured his birthday would be a good time to finally do so. He is known as the Twin Cities Frank Sinatra, or as I think of him, and I'm sure many many others think as well, the next great preacher of his generation.

He is my pastor at Redeemer Bible Church in Minnetonka, MN.

I'm so thankful you're my brother(-in-law) and pastor to me, Bob. Just like your mom's card, even if I had had a choice in the matter, I couldn't have chosen a better brother(-in-law). And I don't think I would have survived the past few years without your faithful shepherding through your gospel preaching, the effect of your ministry on your congregation, and your personal ministry of the Word to our family as well.

So grateful for your shepherding and, yes, that you have incessently made fun of me since I was 12. Love you, Bob!

"Beloved, If You Could Actually Read This over My Shoulder..."

2010-05-22T02:33:00.014-05:00

So, I know I haven't blogged in awhile. I guess there is a certain self-consciousness that has set in, since the one year anniversary of Andrew's death back in February. Like a fear that if I mention how I still grieve Andrew that some might be like, "Oh come on, get over it already."

I only blog when I feel compelled to. I seem unable to say much on this blog about the day to day, how much joy the kids bring me, how well they're doing, or what life is like as a single mom. I seem only to be able to blog about Andrew and usually only when I'm feeling saddest. Blogging may be my verbal version of crying (and eventually preaching to myself). So perhaps this year, maybe it's a good thing that a lot of time passes between blogs, because maybe it means there are longer stretches between intense sadness.

I guess I should mention that there have, indeed, been victories. Victories, where in the midst of the hurt, the Lord has brought great joy through His fellowship and all that He has been teaching me through my sufferings. There actually was one month or so following the injury the one year anniversary of Andrew's death inflicted upon my heart, where I experienced greater joy and greater peace than I have ever experienced in my entire life, completely independent of circumstances and totally because of the Lord. I actually wrote a really long blog about it, but for some reason, haven't published it yet.

Very soon after Andrew died, I started reading the book, Heaven, by Randy Alcorn. I've picked it up recently again. Alcorn says that most evangelical views of heaven, such as the view that we will be disembodied spirits unconscious of each other or our previous lives on earth is influenced by neo-Platonism rather than the Bible. He says that there will be far more continuity between our lives now on earth and our lives in heaven, and especially our lives on the New Earth after Christ returns.

So, if you find anything I write in the following as appauling, please just blame it on my recent readings or just laugh it off. Ahem...so I thought I would share with you how I felt today in the form of a letter I wrote Andrew tonight. (Cough).

"Beloved, when I asked you once what I should do without you to confide in about everything, you suggested I could write a letter to you. I laughed, thinking it was silly, since you wouldn't see it anyway. I tried once last year, but felt too silly to take it seriously, so it ended up being just like another journal entry. So this is only my second letter to you. I suppose if you could actually read this over my shoulder, if you're aware what happens on earth the way God is, then you already know how I'm doing. I miss you like crazy. CRAZY. I hope not to discourage you by being honest about my feelings, but I'm pretty certain that you're incapable of being discouraged in the presence of Christ, and if you have any concerns about me, you probably speak face to face to our Highest Beloved concerning my well-being.

Beloved, did you see me from heaven today? Emotional and worn out. You were always so steady and would speak truth to me. And when I lost my mind to panic and feeling overwhelmed, and couldn’t think, you would tell me the reasonable plan, the next step forward.

Beloved, I don’t know what happened to all our dreams to live our lives together, to serve the Lord together, how we thought we made each other so much more effective, balanced each other. We thought we better glorified God together as a couple than as singles. We wanted to be a triangle where we sought the Lord and at the end of the day came together to convene about the things He had revealed to us. It was always so amazing that when we actually functioned like that, His Holy Spirit made us so like-minded.

Beloved, remember how you had confessed your feelings for me while I was in the Philippines for six months? We were uncertain where our lives were going to take us next or how we were going to be together. During one of your phone calls to the Philippines, you told me that you had been praying about it, as well as listening to a bunch of Piper sermons at that time in your life. And to use a phrase of his, you said, all we had to do was stand under the “waterfall of God’s grace” and just stay under it wherever it went, and that's how we would know where to go. I can’t remember if I ever told you that I loved that you said that. I loved that you just wanted to follow Him wherever He lead. His waterfall of grace moved me back to Los Angeles to you. I never imagined that once leading us together, His waterfall of grace would lead us apart; you to Christ, while leaving me behind.

Beloved, remember when we were engaged and how we never wanted to be away from each other, and I was out with one of the girls in my small group one night? Esther and I got bubble tea. You called me in the middle of my time with her and sounded like you were trying not to sound disappointed that I was still going to be a little while. Your voice was strained as if you were doing your best not to make me feel pressured to cut my time with her short. Esther and I didn’t return to her apartment until after 10pm. I thought it was too late to stop by your apartment and didn't want to bother you, knowing how seriously you took your sleep, but since you only lived upstairs from her, she kept encouraging me to knock on your door and see if you were still awake.

When I knocked, you immediately answered the door. You looked so relieved and happy to see me. You told me you had missed me so much. You told me that one of your roommates had seen you exercising earlier and had said, “What, since Grace isn’t here you can finally breathe?” And you had said, “No, since Grace isn’t here, I can’t breathe. So I’m just exercising instead.” Beloved, that’s how I feel. I can’t breathe today. I miss you soooo much.

I keep trying to tell myself that it’s just because I’m generically lonely and it’s just because my life is hard being a single mom that I feel so sad, but you were not generically lonely that time you waited for me to return. I try to suppress it or deny it, butwhen I'm honest with myself, I realize, simply, I miss you. You are my life-breath, beloved. Or, we were each others' lungs, and it's still a struggle to breathe with lung-halves.

Beloved, we had so many dreams together. How could I have been so wrong to have thought we would spend our lives together? How could I have been so crazy? So stupid? So wrong.

Beloved, last week I took my first road trip without you to my cousin Amanda’s baby shower in Wisconsin. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling so sad while I was packing up the car, considering I’ve packed up the car so many times to go to the airport and was always excited about mine and the kids’ trips the past several months.

And then I realized, this was different. This was a road trip. And road trips were your thing. I used to think road trips were unbearably boring, but you taught me to enjoy them. You loved to drive and I loved all our undistracted time together in the car.

Oh Lord, I need You.

I know the Lord feels my pain. Perhaps more deeply than I do. In fact, I think He died for my pain. He died to get rid of the sting of death and do away with death forever.

Beloved, what will it feel like to see you again? To think, we will be far more overjoyed at our reunion than that time that I knocked, and you opened the door to me. And there will be no death or uncertainty that could spring upon us to ever disappoint us or tear us apart again.

Sometimes, eternity seems so near, I could practically touch it. What shall it be like to touch Christ? To see His face? For Him to greet me and rejoice over me with love as my Husband? How amazing is it that that actually can be? Only through His death and His resurrection has He made it possible to cleanse a sinner so He could rejoice over her.

'He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.' (Zephaniah 3:17)

Sometimes, love, when I see old pictures of us, our love was so beautiful, it almost seems like a fantasy, like it couldn’t have really happened. It felt so real at the time, yet so beyond my dreams, that I kept thinking I was going to wake up any moment.

I’ve woken up. And now you are gone.

It is interesting to imagine that how our dreams on earth to fall in love and how they were fulfilled in each other are a pale shadow compared to how seeing Christ face to face will infinitely exceed all our hopes of what heaven shall be like. It is amazing that you are experiencing that right now - your hopes infinitely fulfilled all in Christ. You must be so psyched. All the time.

Babe, I love you. I miss you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for asking me to marry you. Thank you for giving me the privilege of being your wife. Will you ask the Lord about some things for me?

1. That I would honor Him in my mothering and how I spend my days. That the children would exceed us in their ability to glorify God all their days.

2. That somehow I would be able to enjoy each gift of today and my daily responsibilities as Ecclesiastes says to.

("It is good and fitting for one to eat and drink, and to enjoy the good of all his labor in which he toils under the sun all the days of his life which God gives him; for it is his heritage...to rejoice in his labor—this is the gift of God. For he will not dwell unduly on the days of his life, because God keeps him busy with the joy of his heart" (Ecclessiastes 5:18-20)).

3. That I would be able to finish and publish our book like you said to do in your letters. The one year anniversary of your death was the most excruciating time of my entire life, and arrested the momentum of writing our book, and I have not been able to bring myself to work on it since.

I love you, Andrew. I’m so thankful for the beautiful man God made you, both in form and character.

I’ve always been convinced that it made the Lord laugh with pleasure when he brought us together. I’m convinced that the beauty of our love glorified His amazing lovingkindness that takes pleasure in bringing joy to His children.”

Andrew and Resurrection Sunday

2010-04-03T13:28:00.013-05:00

For some reason Easter weekend is really painful for me now. It's as if Andrew's suffering was a visual for me of Christ's suffering, and I can't stop crying. On the one hand, the pain is so awful at times, it is like the pain could turn me inside-out. And on the other hand, I feel privileged to have a special visual insight into what Christ suffered, at least physically, for our sin.

This week, as Andrew's parents came to visit for Gracie's fourth birthday and took us out for dinner, I kept remembering Andrew's last supper. His parents had taken Andrew, the kids, and I to Wildfire where Andrew ate a large steak for his last meal that he was ever able to enjoy through his mouth before his 2nd major surgery. Andrew LOVED food. I remember how loud the table of 3 next to us was, hardly taking any breaths between all their words the entire time we were there, while our table was almost completely silent. Incredible hollowness and lonliness nearly ate through me. Imagine the apostles' confusion at Jesus' last supper when their best Friend and Lord said to them, "Where I am going, you cannot go."

I remember the next morning at 5am while it was still dark, leaving for his surgery, which in many ways, is when my Andrew left me. I remember he opened the door of the mudroom and stepped down to the garage. I grabbed the door after him and saw the back of his head and his blue and grey Helly Hansen jacket that we had bought together in Washington to shield him from the daily drizzle. And then I turned back, looking behind me at the mudroom, not wanting to step down the stairs to the garage. Must we really go? I felt like I was walking to my execution. What if I lose him now - No! We must. The cancer can't stay a moment longer in his body. You don't get any other choice. I turned back towards Andrew and followed him into the dark garage.

He never looked, or talked, or had the energy like that morning again. The next 11 months was his slow death as I was forced to accept that I would never have the Andrew that walked out of that mudroom with me again.

And then I remember how as Andrew lay on his hospital bed the last 3 days of his life. He heaved, arching his back off the bed, as he struggled for one breath after the next, the tumor pressing against his airway. His body was covered with the blood that had burst from his neck wound. Having lost too much blood to ever be conscious again, his eyes were closed. The blood stains were splattered all the way down to his toes. His feet were crossed at his ankles just like the depictions of Christ on the cross. With each day, his ribs became more and more pronounced, as the doctor said that with all his systems shutting down, he would not be able to take nutrition. And there was a three-inch long, vertical scar over his right ribs that resembled what one might think a soldier's sword-piercing on His side might look like. And looking on, watching her son suffer, just as Mary did, stood his mother.

Those of us in the room, independent of each other, were all struck by how much like Jesus he appeared to us as he suffered.

For as many times as I have heard the Easter story since I was born, Easter has far more of an effect on me than it ever has. When I was thinking about that last night and separately reflecting how Jesus died over the Passover, because He was the ultimate Passover Lamb, I realized that Andrew's 2nd major surgery, in which he was never the same again, took place over Easter weekend 2 years ago.

This morning, I received an email from an old friend, in which she shared some memories from when she had visited us. To my surprise, it turned out to be Easter 5 years ago. I had not remembered any of the things she wrote about:

"I remember that we went to the Seattle Library and Andrew was carrying Andrew Jr. in a sling (I don't know what they're called) and when Andrew Jr. fell asleep, Andrew jokingly placed Jr., sling and all, on one of the bookshelves and you laughed so fondly at your husband's humor. I think you guys took a picture of it."

And she copied a passage from her journal that she had written the weekend she had visited us: "When Andrew came home from work, I saw how Andrew and Grace work so well together. I knew them as singles and never a couple. They are just very compatible and it was neat to see how God knew them so perfectly well to have already blessed them with a son."

I love to remember him. So many things I've forgotten, or were just too good to be true.

The good news, that's even better than my experience with Andrew of being too good to be true, the news that really was TOO GOOD to be true, and yet was and is true, is that JESUS ROSE. HE ROSE!

Imagine the hurt and disappointment His friends and followers felt when He left them. Gone. Forever. All their hopes destroyed. Or so they thought. HE ROSE! Beyond any hopes or dreams they had for themselves or their own people or mankind, He more than fulfilled their hopes and dreams. By taking the blame for all their sins, through His suffering, death, and resurrection, Jesus provided a way for them to be forgiven, saved from hell and from themselves and their sin, and, as a result, a way for them to always, to eternally, have the closest, most satisfying relationship that could ever exist in all the universe with THE GOD of THE UNIVERSE.

Andrew died on a Saturday. Jesus rose up from the dead on a Sunday. I look forward to the day when Christ shall return and we, like the One who went before us, shall all rise.

"On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'

"....Then [Jesus] opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, "This is what is written: The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." - Luke 24:1-7, 50-52

My Love's Too Big for You, My Love

2010-02-04T12:25:00.024-06:00

Year 1

My dearest,

Continue to be strong and courageous. I’m sure the past year has been tough, but God has been faithful, right? What are you thankful for? What can we give thanks for this past year?

If you are feeling up to it you can open up some picture albums and videos and watch them with the kids. I want the kids to always remember that the time we had together was wonderful, and though short, it was exactly how much time the Lord wanted us to have in His sovereign plan. Though it is hard to be without me, God’s design is perfect and He know’s what is best for us. Let the children know that I love them very much, and I wish I could hug and kiss them right now...

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."

- Andrew

Sunday, February 7th - One Year Since My Love Left Me.

This year, I feel like I have seen Christ with my own eyes.

At times daily, I have often called out to God, often out loud, holding Him to His promise that He is a Husband to the husbandless and a Father to the fatherless. He has met me at my every cry and need. He has never failed me. I will say more about that at another time, when I have more words.

But in recent weeks, I have been at a loss for words. This past year has been a continual wrestling with my memories. I've spent much of the year rifling through the archives of my mind, while other times, finding myself trying to block out the past; that if I convinced myself that what Andrew and I had shared had never happened, at least not as richly, then there was not as much to lose and not as much to weep over. But the truth is, I loved Andrew with all my heart.

I hope some of that wrestling with my memory can rest now. This week, I could not help myself but spend all day making the video below. I do not have to wrestle with my memories, struggle to access them, tackle them to hold onto them, because they are here now compiled on my hard drive and the internet. I have not had words, but I now have my video.

If you press play over and over and over and over again (and then repeat that a few times while your hands make lunch for your kids), then you'll experience what many of my days inside my head have been like over this year - except I did not have the convenience of a play button or the pictures already organized or their significance already explained. The experience of having such images grazing my mind, sometimes vivid, sometimes vague, have been more like trying to sort through and organize very unwieldy and slippery, entwined, and knotted spaghetti.

Thank you to all of you for cheering me on this first year, whether you communicated it to me, or quietly did so between you and Jesus. There are times where I can feel you praying for us and the Lord sustaining me in answer.

I used to write fiction. When I was still in the Philippines in 2003, Andrew wrote me, "Will you let me read your stories some time? Will you let me into your world?" I let Andrew into my world and he was better than fiction all along, through and through. I let him into my heart and he filled it with himself, nearly bursting it. I haven't written fiction in a few years now. But welcome into my world, everyone. Here is this old heart...

Music by Ingrid Michaelson, Sort of

One more thing. That I know Andrew would absolutely want me to put here. This was the message my brother-in-law preached the day after Andrew died, Sunday, called "Reflections on the Suffering and Death of a 27 Year-Old Man." 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 here: http://solidfoodmedia.com/messages/listen.php?id=8658eb126a771f61ab395e78b2a848c708b144c1

Please also feel free to share any memories about Andrew that you haven't shared yet in the comments section below. I absolutely love to read them, and I know one day my kids will also.

My First Wedding Anniversary Not Wedded

2010-01-08T02:07:00.033-06:00

January 10, 2010 would have been mine and Andrew's sixth anniversary. I loved him as if we would die together.

Till death do us part. Except I thought that might buy us 50 or 60 years together.

One year ago Andrew was still alive and the kids and I were staying at a nutritional treatment center in Redlands, CA. January 2, 2009 Andrew's parents, brother, and sister and her husband left from spending the holidays with us. We closed the door behind them, Andrew said he was tired, laid down on the bed, and thus began Andrew's major decline, in which he slept nearly all day and all night every day. He would only get up twice a day when I would beg him that he needed to go to the bathroom, because it would not be good for all those toxins to never be released from his system. I did not understand what was going on. He had gone through periods of sleep like this during chemotherapy, and I did not understand that this was different. I did not understand that he had even less energy than then and that his body was shutting down now.

Monday, January 5th, 2009 a few days before our 5 year anniversary, while Andrew was sleeping and after I had put the kids to bed, I left the treatment center around 7:30pm and drove down the hills of Redlands to find the Trader Joe's to food shop for my kids, who obviously were not eating the same therapy foods as their father. I had always shopped at a different supermarket, but I thought this evening, I would look for Trader Joe's.

As I drove down the hills, I was stunned by the view that clear evening of the city lights of the valley below us. It was so beautiful and reminded me of my dating days with Andrew in Los Angeles. He loved views. He loved the bigger picture.

One of the things that he loved as a systems engineer for Motorola in Los Angeles the summers of 2002 and 2003 was that he had to go to the highest mountain or the off-limits highest part of the highest building in the city where they would place the radio towers he designed for the radio systems (like long-distance walkie-talkies) for the LAPD or LAFD.

Also, while I was in the Philippines for six months in 2003, he used to ride his motorcycle into the mountains and loved the views from there and email me the pictures. The first week when I returned from the Philippines, we went hiking on those various mountains within an hour of L.A. every day April 2003. As our relationship progressed and we could not hike every day, we would still hike every weekend. And when there wasn't time to go hiking, Andrew would look for a high building in Westwood near UCLA for us to go to the top and look at the views.

I had always loved to obsess over minute details to the point of myopia. Andrew introduced me to the bigger picture.

One of our most special times together was before we were even dating, the summer of 2002 before I had left for my six months in the Philippines in October. Andrew had called me one Friday evening and said in his low voice, "Grace. You're leaving. That's BAD. I'm never going to see you again." He continued, "So the reason I'm calling is to see if you'd like to have lunch with me tomorrow."

I thought Andrew was asking me out on a date until he called me Saturday morning to ask if his cousin, Dan, could come along. Andrew and I had all the same friends and saw each other a lot that summer, and since Dan spent a lot of time with Andrew that summer, I already knew Dan. So even though I was confused and disappointed (and frustrated) that it wasn't a date we were going on, it sounded fun anyway.

Before lunch that Saturday, I walked across the street from my apartment at 423 Kelton and met Andrew in front of his apartment at 424 Kelton. The two of us walked together down to Westwood where we met Dan at Mr. Noodle. I think I expected I would go home after lunch and not intrude upon their guy time, but then Dan suggested checking out the Los Angeles Contemporary Museum of Art. This was very exciting for me, because aside from the fact that I had been secretly crushing on Andrew Mark for nearly a year at this point, which is a lifetime for a college student, my dream was to go to a museum with Andrew.

We had fun at the museum, then got ice cream, then I think there was this Japanese festival all within walking distance of the museum. Andrew said his lips were dry and asked if anyone had chapstick he could borrow. I handed him my rainbow sherbet chapstick, pink, orange, and lighter pink swirled in its clear circular case from the Gap, and he applied it to his lips. I didn't use that chapstick much after that in order to save it and found it one day a few months ago. I put it in Gracie's keepsakes for her to have when she grows up.

After we drove back to Westwood, I thought I would return to my apartment and they would return to Andrew's apartment across the street. But Andrew offered to make us dinner. After dinner, Andrew found a nearly empty carton of rainbow sherbet in the freezer, which I think at some point I had mentioned that had been my favorite when I was little. I think it was his too, so he offered to share it with me out of the carton. This may sound gross to some of you, or just so-clueless-crass guy, and while all of these things probably did cross my mind, the final conclusion was - flattery. How intimate. Sharing ice cream out of a carton together. And I really wasn't even sure what he thought of me.

Again, I thought I was supposed to go home. But then Andrew suggested we all take a drive to this place he knew of a few minutes away. We climbed into his beloved black 1995 Integra GSR that identified him and he drove us to a neighborhood a few minutes away and parked in a cul-de-sac. I didn't know where we were going and why we had to drive to take a walk in a suburban neighborhood, since there were suburban neighborhoods where we lived in Westwood. There was some sparse brush beside the street that we walked alongside. All of a sudden Andrew turned into the brush and we found ourselves on a dirt trail. We followed Andrew up it a few yards. Then all of a sudden, we found ourselves at the top of a mountain. Below us was an amazing view of the city lights all around us, glittering, yellow pinpricks blinking up at us from a black blanket below.

We sat down, quieted by the view, on the dusty ground. Andrew and I were not sitting near each other, probably separated by a few yards. But we faced each other diagonally, so that I saw the city lights just past his profile and behind him and he saw the lights beyond me. We never looked directly at each other. It was probably too dark. But I loved him. Silently. Quietly.

There was barking in the background. Multiple barkings and howls. Like a pack of them. The barkings and howls intermittent and slowly getting louder and closer, as if they were on the other side of a canyon, making their way up, swirling a path upwards. But I was too young and stupid to fear danger at the time and assumed - because I couldn't put my finger on it - maybe those were the neighborhood dogs? Dan spoke words of reason and said we should go. In retrospect, they were probably coyotes.

Seven years later, January 2009 I drove down the hills of Redlands and saw the quiet sparkles of the city lights blinking up at me through a clear, black, quiet night. I continued down the hill and entered the freeway. On the freeway, I found that when I reached my exit, it was closed due to construction, forcing me to exit at the following one. I tracked my way through the streets of Redlands to the area where I had originally been told to exit, but there was no Trader Joe's. When I eventually did find it, it had closed two minutes earlier.

As I drove back to the house, discouraged and overwhelmed after a night of wondering through the dark streets and freeway of Redlands, I said, "Oh Lord, I don't know why You had me come out all this way tonight, only to never make it to Trader Joe's. But I know that You are sovereign. What is it that you brought me out here for?"

The next night, I found a different scene as I descended the hills in my car. Fog covering the valley. There were no city lights to be seen.

I realized that if it was January, then it meant our wedding anniversary must be approaching, and I had not even planned anything to do. In the past, Andrew, who was characterized by his giftedness at planning, always planned our anniversaries, which usually consisted of bringing the kids to a sitter overnight and checking into a nice hotel in the closest city to where we were living at the time and dinner at a hip restaurant we had never been to. I thought, "Well, considering how poorly Andrew is doing, maybe this would be a legitimate exception to celebrating our anniversary." I still did not understand that we were approaching his death.

As I asked the Lord again, "Why did you allow me to waste that whole night for no reason, Lord?" Then, it occurred to me. Andrew may not have energy to go out for the night or even be able to eat at all with his mouth, let alone be able to eat at a restaurant, but perhaps I could drive him and we could sit in the car and look at the city lights. It'll be perfect. He'll love it!

The next day, I drove all around the hills, looking for the best vantage of the city lights on a quiet street. I found a spot beside some brush. I prayed for the next few days that the Lord would provide a clear night for Andrew to enjoy the city lights.

I remembered all the old jazz we listened to. Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Dave Brubeck. I remembered how our first week dating, after dinner he took me on the Pacific Coast Highway and parked near these jagged rocks beside the beach. He pointed out how he used to come there during the summer of 2001 before he had become a Christian, and God was in the process of decimating him, humbling him, and he would come here to the beach and listen to the waves crash and call out to God, "If You're there God, show me!" And we listened to the new John Coltrane CD I had gotten him as he shared all these things with me.

So I thought of playing jazz while we looked at the city lights, but I realized I had no way of playing it, since the radio in the car a friend had lent us during our time in California was broken. I found a CD player in the treatment center that Friday, the day of our anniversary. But it had to be plugged into the wall and I didn't have any batteries. It kept coming to mind, though, that God was going to work it out, and I knew He would provide for us somehow. At the last hour before we left, I realized, "Duh! I can bring my laptop and play all our jazz from there."

January 10, 2009 our fifth and last anniversary together. One of the workers who made our foods, a daughter of the couple who ran the treatment center in her early 20s, had offered multiple times earlier that week, not even knowing our anniversary was approaching, that she loved our kids so much, she would love to babysit for us some time. So after I had fed Andrew his ground up and liquified dinner through his feeding tube, I told Andrew it was time to get ready now. I walked away and took care of the kids. Again, I didn't understand that this was not the same thing as when he was worn out from chemotherapy. During chemotherapy he slept constantly, but if he had to go to the bathroom, he could get up for that, and if he had to go to the doctor, he could also get up and at least make it to sitting in the car. This time, however, he had gradually lost his voice during the two weeks his family had bee with us and didn't have the energy to find a way to explain much, so it never occurred to me that if he was going to come out and sit in the car, I should be the one to get him changed and everything. He took much longer than I was expecting him to get ready.

After Andrew was ready, I drove us up the winding roads to the quiet street I had found earlier in the week and parked beside the brush. The Lord had provided a clear night. We sat watching the city lights, the jazz playing.

Afterwards, we drove through the city of Redlands and then through the campus of Redlands University. Another thing Andrew always loved was driving. This time he wasn't in the driver's seat, but he still liked to be in the car exploring. With the few words he was able to whisper, he said he liked that there was no pressure to go to a restaurant or have to get somewhere by any time.

When we returned to the treatment center, it had only been an hour-and-a-half.

That was our last wedding anniversary together and our last date together. I didn't have much of my Andrew afterwards. He took mostly to sleeping as his body shut down that last month.

When he died, Feb. 7th, it had been as if he had already left me a few months earlier. In fact, little by little over the years, the cancer had slowly stolen his energy - and my Andrew - and Feb. 7th, it had only become final.

I love writing about Andrew and all our memories. They were so beautiful, and while the Lord may continue to heal me, it's hard to imagine ever not enjoying writing about Andrew. He impacted so many people and even after his death, his memory and story continue to provide countless opportunities to share about who Jesus truly is.

A lot of people have been asking how I've been doing, since I haven't posted anything in awhile. I feel like God has done the inconceivable in me, which is that I feel like some real healing has accumulated over the past several months. I had no idea it was possible for the hurt to subside after such a profound loss.

I found in the Philippines that I no longer thought of us as a foursome missing the first one, but as a threesome. I felt my identity was no longer as a wife and mom, but as a single mother. And once I began to see my identity differently, there was not the same disappointment and hurt. There wasn't the same sense as if something was missing, or as if we were waiting for the first one to return, only to wait endlessly. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." The hope of his return finally died inside and my heart began to feel less and less sick. After the kids and I returned from the Philippines, I found that dinners at night were not so unbearable. There was no longer the automatic sense of expectancy every evening for Andrew to return home to us.

Travelling to another country with a completely different set of scenery before us, like we were in a different world, was really helpful. It was also incredibly restful, which I think was also very healing. And finally, having the opportunity to share about Jesus because of Andrew's life, suffering, and death, really gave me a glimpse of the bigger picture, of how his suffering and death was not for naught, not senseless, but, indeed, would continue to bring about both mine and Andrew's hearts' greatest desire - the worth and sufficiency and goodness of Christ, even in the midst of the worst, most hurtful disappointment. Everything may fall away and everything may disappoint, but Christ never does. He will never forsake His own. Our hope in Him is not misplaced, and so He will never be a disappointment.

There are still times where the pain is suddenly and unexpectedly fresh, where memories of Andrew become vivid. A.J. right now, I think is going through what I went through this past summer. He seems like he is grieving and hurting more than I have seen him do this whole year. Ever since I pulled out the Christmas decor after Thanksgiving, A.J. has been remembering our last Christmas with Andrew. I spent all of Christmas afternoon and evening crying. I couldn't stop. I listened to Andrew's memorial service and cried through all of it.

It seems there's no way around grief, only through it. So I approach the memories head on, so I can cry through them, and move on. It always feels like healing has taken place after I've been able to release some grief through tears, and I feel relieved and better. I'm really grateful for tears and that God provided them as one means to slowly drain the hurt and grief.

There is a sense in which I feel as if I have lost everything. I mean, obviously, I haven't lost everything. I have my two children, my church, a home, many relationships in my life which I treasure, for which I am overwhelmingly grateful. But there is still a sense in which I have faced my greatest fear - to lose Andrew.

I wasn't afraid of the coyotes that night on the mountain with Andrew and Dan. Life, I could take it or lose it, either way it was Christ. I wasn't afraid partly because I was young and dumb, and partly because I just wasn't afraid of death, because death equaled Christ's presence in such a real way to me, and I truly believed I couldn't be taken a moment sooner than my time. But the moment I was married to Andrew, suddenly life became so weighty, so important, so valuable to be never lost, because I absolutely had to be with Andrew. But I feel when I lost my love, I lost my life. No fear - Jesus has resurrected me! Daily, I feel my deaths. As I daily experience all the helplessnesses of a widow, He forces me to die to self; but daily He resurrects me.

Losing Andrew was like the first time I had travelled outside of the U.S. Before I had travelled out of the country, I had no idea what another country would be like. I wasn't sure if another country would be as different as travelling to Mars. Would they have streets like ours? Grass? I found myself surpised when it turned out Spain's sky was blue and looked exactly like ours. In the same way, I was terrified of losing Andrew, because I wasn't sure if what was on the other side was survivable. It turns out Christ was on the other side. Just as the sky is blue in America and is the same sky in the rest of the world, Christ was with me before I lost Andrew and Christ is still always with me and still sufficient in all loss and no matter what may come.

In this state of death (and resurrection), I feel a sense in which there is nothing to lose anymore. Why not live for Christ fearlessly, no matter what the call, no matter what the hurt, because I am dead to myself but alive to God in Christ" (Romans 6:11). I may not have the total fearlessness of death as I had as a dumb young college student, but there is a sense now of freedom in living. Just live for Christ, while living, no matter the cost. Because when all is stripped away, all there is, is Christ. Thank God.

"He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it to life eternal. If anyone serves Me, he must follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also; if anyone serves Me, the Father will honor him" (John 12:25-26).

Young Pastor Diagnosed

2009-12-06T23:42:00.002-06:00

This young pastor had a seizure on Thanksgiving, only to find out he had a huge tumor on his frontal lobe. Listen to his unexpected words, read his blog, check out his tweet too!

http://hv.thevillagechurch.net/blog/hvpastor/?p=363

October in the Philippines

2009-11-11T15:12:00.024-06:00

This may come as a suprise to most of you, but my parents took the kids and I to the Philippines for 21 days in October. Yes, we went all the way over to the Philippines!

My first trip ever to the Philippines was after I graduated from UCLA in 2002. I lived in the city of Bacolod for six months as part of the staff of Campus Bible Fellowship (CBF), a college ministry. My second trip there was a year later on my honeymoon travels with Andrew. Every trip I take to the Philippines, this having been my third, is life-changing and amazing.

After I arrived in the Philippines this time around, I discovered I had forgotten my journal, something I have never forgotten on a trip before. When I searched around for something to use instead, I found at the bottom of my backpack something unexpected.

It was a brown journal that I had used in 2003-2004. It began at mine and Andrew's engagement and ended in the Philippines during our honeymoon.

During our honeymoon, Andrew and I had traveled from January to April 2004. After a week in Kauai, we spent nine days in Hong Kong and nearly three weeks traveling throughout the Philippines, which included Manila, the capital, Borocay, a white sand beach that was the closest place to heaven on earth, and the city of Bacolod, where Campus Bible Fellowship and my friends and relatives were.

Since Andrew died, it has been strange returning to so many of the things that identified me before he and I were married and settled down in one place, like ballet or trekking through the Philippines. It is like my five years married to him were a mere hiccup, always meant to be temporary, like high school or college. As if I was "Grace" all my life, then I thought I would be "GraceAndrew" for the rest of my life, but instead I'm back to "justGrace."

This makes me feel sad, incredibly disappointed, and foolish reading journal entries from our engagement about how I had finally found the one I would spend the rest of my life with.

Borocay, Philippines. 2004.

I thought I would share with you some of my thoughts from our earliest days of marriage. On February 19, 2004 during our honeymoon excursion in the Philippines, I wrote:

"Fellowshipping with the Campus Bible Fellowship staff was incredibly refreshing, invigorating, and sharpening.

"My closest friend, Shubie (Anne Juliet) asked me what marriage was like. I said sometimes it's so wonderful, you think you must have exceeded the human capacity for happiness. And sometimes, it's challenging and difficult as you work through sin together.

"Sometimes Andrew and I are so happy together, I just don't know what to do with myself. I didn't know it was possible to love someone so much that being near him, nothing, feels like enough. You imagine the only suitable thing would be to crawl inside his lung cavity and sit there, if it were possible. Missing him, especially last year while I was waiting to return to him from the Philippines was like missing my left lung. It was difficult to breathe. Difficult to remember to breathe.

Above, Andrew is eating balut, a nearly developed duck embryo that is
boiled and eaten in its shell that CBF uses to welcome - or rather challenge -
all their international guests. You can feel the fur and wings when you bite
into it.

"Sometimes I don't know what to do with all the happiness. Praises to my lover. Kisses, hugs. Tell everyone I can about my love for him. And yet with marriage, it seems propriety must reduce, must restrain our words. So then you write about it. And then that way not only can you tell all you feel, you don't have to confine it to only the people you know, but to strangers and to any you have known but haven't seen in ages."

The engagement/honeymoon journal ended in the middle of the book, so that half of it was blank. So I used it for my journal while I was in the Philippines this past October 2009.

And so, the brown journal ended in the Philippines at the beginning of our marriage in February 2004 and picked up again in the Philippines October 2009 after our marriage had ended.

Five years after the last entry above, after all the loss, my first day in the Philippines in 2009, I wrote in the same journal:

Gargato, Philippines.
"Apprehensive, as usual this year about a trip, knowing I didn't have any idea what to expect. Getting onto the airplane Friday night seeing the expansive interior of the airplane, I was struck that this was the first time on that type of international plane since I traveled with Andrew for several months after we were married.

"Everything had seemed so new and unreal back then, like a dream. I was always afraid that I was going to wake up. I mean, who gets to marry their obsession? Now, it is as if it really were a dream, ephemeral, the bubble popped, and he is gone. He is only a dream to me. Our past together is only a dream now.

"Struck again when I arrived at an internet cafe to check my email after several days of being cut off from the rest of the world. Struck that the last time I was at an internet cafe was with Andrew on our honeymoon. And the time before that was when I was writing to him while he was in Los Angeles and I was in the Philippines. And I would tell him everything about this third world country that was so new and different, it felt like being born all over again and America had only been conjured up as a fantasy based off a Coca-cola billboard. And he would tell me about his lone Saturday early mornings on his motorcycle, singing worship songs as he rode into the mountains. He said when he saw God's creation, no one could ever tell him that God was not good. I fell in love with that man.

"When I am feeling fine about Andrew, it is like I have a black screen inserted, like one of the screens they use in a bee farm, and it as if I put that screen down in my life to block off all the past. That if I look back, all there is is a black screen, so I can move on and feel okay.

"This is really funny because I have lived all my life with a backward glance. The past was always so significant to me. I think that's why I loved history so much, because it was my extended past, whether Western history, or the history of Southeast Asia or the history of the Philippines. Or it was simply the history of people, and I am related to all people, and their cultures, and their history have always been so poignant, rich, and significant to me.

"So much about what Andrew and I would write each other in our 6 page single-spaced emails was about the 21 and 22 years previous to meeting each other. Somehow, all our childhood and past experiences meant so much to us. We were giving our pasts to each other.

"When Andrew died, as little by little I put his things away, I found myself putting away all my old clothes with his. It hurt to look at them. The pink blouse I wore to his graduation, the long denim skirt with black lace stretched over the front denim in a big triangle that I had bought during a missions trip to Thailand in the midst of my 6 months in the Philippines that he liked, my old jeans. The person who wore those clothes belonged to Andrew and she died with him. I wanted to give my whole self to Andrew, to abandon my heart, my past, my devotion, everything to him. And I did. And I'm thankful. And he took it with him and it was buried with his body.

"So maybe there is some relief that my past went with him. Because I don't need it anymore. The stories no longer pursue me. They belong to him. And I'm grateful the Lord ever gave me someone to give it to."

Friday, October 30, 2009
China Airlines. On flight from Taipei to Anchorage.

I had originally gone to the Philippines, because my parents take a trip there every year, and before Andrew was diagnosed the second time in March of 2008, my parents had offered to take us with them to the Philippines. So I thought even though Andrew was gone, maybe the kids and I could go. I thought it would be a nice time to relax as well as visit with old friends and relatives.

Old friends from Campus Bible Fellowship during their college
retreat. Many old CBFers have started their own CBF's throughout the
Philippines, and the retreat ended up being a reunion for those old
CBFers.

It turned out to be way better than that! While originally my friend, Shubie, had asked me to share mine and Andrew's story at Campus Bible Fellowship's annual retreat, after we arrived in the Philippines, one of my aunts also asked me to share our story at her church and another aunt asked me to share our story at a luncheon at her resort she had thrown for many of our relatives and friends of the family. Finally, my friend Ryan, a fellow 2003 Campus Bible Fellowship staff member, asked me to share mine and Andrew's story at his Bible study.

"Every trip I take to the Philippines is life-changing and amazing. Asolutely loved getting to share mine and Andrew's stories a total of four times. Awesome ministering alongside Shubie and Manong Errol, like a tag-team."

This may sound strange to some of you that the highlight of my trip was speaking to audiences of cancer and losing my beloved. But it wasn't just that. It was about Andrew - and I love talking about Andrew - and it was about Jesus and His faithfulness, and His forgiveness, and His kindness, and His mercy, and that in the end, this will have all made sense. The Bible promises that our suffering, that everything that happens to those who love Jesus, is for our good and for His glory. We will see that when we see Jesus face to face. But for now, so much of that is just believed by faith. And so it is so gracious of the Lord that He would provide opportunities for me to see with my own eyes even in this lifetime that Andrew's life and suffering and death was not meaningless but is impacting people for Jesus even now.

I am so grateful to my many relatives, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, my parents, who came to hear me speak at those events, sometimes multiple events.

"And while Shubie (Anne Juliet) was my best friend before, and I enjoyed our friendship, it has been even more enjoyable after a five-year interval of being apart, yet experiencing God's faithfulness in our lives through massive trials for the both of us to burn away the dross. Absolutely fascinating to me to see the notion that as we get holier, good relationships get even better due to the sanctification that God brings about through the very means of trials. Holier people means holier relationships means happier, more enjoyable relationships."

Amazing that God would provide a glimpse of the reality of James 1:2-4: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

Amazing that Jesus graciously provided a glimpse of the reality rather than merely having to walk only by faith all the time. It makes me really want to actually consider my trials "pure joy." To actually rejoice in them as He commands.

Because trials, through all the pain, make you more like Jesus, and thus make life more enjoyable, even in the midst of all the hurt and pain and suffering and misery of living in a fallen world.

How the Philippines Impacts Me Here in Minnesota

Yesterday was a really hard day, full of failures and sin, frustration, and impatience with my children. Rather than cry out to Jesus, I just cried, hard-hearted and wanting to be left alone by my kids and God, because I was tired of difficulty. I was tired of God having His way, because His way only proved hard and impossible.

But when I see suffering Christians more joyful than anyone else, because they're not surprised by suffering and they don't resist their suffering but embrace it, this gives me hope. It encourages me that I don't have to be frustrated and that I can have their joy too. Because I already have their Christ.

Shubie says, "Why not embrace suffering, because to embrace our suffering is to embrace Christ."

I'd have to say that the over-arching emotion that still pervades our home may be disappointment. But after the Philippines, I am encouraged to press on. And that through Christ, it actually may be possible to rejoice and pursue joy even in the midst of my suffering and broken-heartedness.

I mean, who actually thinks it is possible to rejoice after the loss of their love or rejoice when left unexpectedly to be a single mom? To rejoice when the life she had built for her husband - her home and her children - when the very one for whom it was a gift, is gone?

Yet through Christ, all things must be possible. In Philippians 4:13 Paul says, "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." He is referring to being content in all circumstances, and exhorting the Philippians to rejoice always.

I want to be like Jesus. To be sorrowful, yet still rejoicing. I want Him to glorify Himself through my life. That is why I became a Christian. Because there is no other life to live than one spent for Him. There is no other life to live than one in which Jesus is conforming me more into His image. And the more that He makes me like Himself, the happier I will be. And so if I want to be like Jesus, and if Jesus promises that suffering makes us more mature and complete, then I can count it a privilege that God would be so faithful so as to hurt me to make me more like Him so that I can be happier in Him.

Our American culture may say, "Pursue comfort. Pursue ease, otherwise you're just gonna waste this life. Pursue comfort, because you'll never be happy otherwise." These lies pursue me every day, and when I give into them, I only end up frustrated, because I am living in a broken world with a broken heart.

But Jesus offers me hope. I may never have what America worships, comfort and ease, but Jesus offers me something way better - Himself. I'm so thankful that Jesus forgives me every day, though I fail constantly, and go after other things to satisfy me rather than Him. That just as His death has paid the price for my sin, His resurrection offers me hope of change. That while I struggle to rejoice in my difficulties, He can grow, even such a wretched sinner as me, to more and more be able to rejoice in my sufferings.

For more pictures and details about our trip to the beautiful Philippines, go to: http://www.graceandrew.shutterfly.com/. Check it out!

My Girl

2009-10-06T00:13:00.014-05:00

My girl, Gracie, is so fearless that she flies herself into floors, walls, and door jams on a weekly or more basis, and almost never cries. She is the indestructible girl, who I like to think of as HeMan with a dress on. Or maybe the female version of her dad.

Alongside her dresses, she has been begging me to take ballet. She has always loved dancing. Even before she could walk she was swaying her hips to the music, and for as long as she could form just a few words, she would always ask Andrew and I to turn up the music in the car. So this month she started taking a 45 minute dance class once a week down the street that is half tap and half ballet.

Me and my girl with our tap shoes on.

Before her class, I couldn't help but whip out my college tap shoes, turn on some jazz, and show her some stuff. I forgot how fun it is! I think the last time I put my tap shoes on was in college. This reminded me of how all our college Bible study's apartments (typical Westwood style was 5 roommates to two bedrooms, so there were a lot of us to cause mayhem) used to get a kick out of tormenting each other, everything from brutal balloon fights to all kinds of pranks, including one apartment frying my gold fish and sticking it to my door. Thus, I got a kick out of practicing tap in my kitchen every night for apartment 101 below to listen to and enjoy for 20 weeks. After awhile they said they could hear I was improving.

Gracie doing the crab. I'm not really sure how that relates to ballet or tap.

Notice how the majority of kids in her class are blond. Scandinavian Minnesotans.

The next day, Gracie was wearing a flamenco dress, which I had brought back originally for my niece, Zoe, when I had studied a semester in Spain nine years ago. We like to flamenco dance in our living room to flamenco music.

She loves wearing my flamenco shoes.

Our neighbors showed up, so she got too shy to show us her flamenco arms. She's really good at it though, so I will eventually try to get a picture up of her at it. They tried dancing with her to get her to loosen up, to no avail.

Andrew said in his letter to her maybe one day she would be a performer. So maybe her constant falls, or rather, her fearlessness, is not so contrary to her love of music and dance and her very loud, I mean, strong, voice. I was always told that to be a dancer, you had to be fearless; fearless of falling, fearless of hurting yourself. Maybe she just got both of us in her, and afterall, her dad and I were one. We weren't contrary. We were complementary.

My girl's 3 year-old amazing dancer foot.

The Cobblestones of Heaven

2009-09-14T14:19:00.024-05:00

When Andrew passed away, the reality of him in heaven was so palpable to me that it was like I was following him in my mind's eye around heaven every day. Reading his letters nightly, it was like he was simply my husband who was in another country, but leading me nonetheless, shepherding me through his absence.

Though I probably cried daily the first few months, it really wasn't that bad. When I wasn't having a good, quick cry, I was often fine. As summer began to approach, however, this began to change.

At the end of May, I wrote in my journal, "Gracie asked me to sing 'the church song' tonight as I laid alone with her on mine and Andrew's old bed in the red room." Gracie had been sleeping alone on our old bed every night, and I had only come in there to pray with her and sing to her.

"I sang I Will Glory in My Redeemer, and for a moment, as my mind began to wonder into the lyrics themselves, into other thoughts outside of the room, it was as if thoughts of Andrew began to float away from my head. Then, the usual panic, the 'No, how can I not keep him sealed in my head? He might float away into heaven, and become a distant memory, hard to be plucked out of heaven and into my head as the daily hubby, my Andrew.'

"I continued to sing to Gracie, my thoughts returning to the room and all those times I had sung this song in it. He always wanted me to sing to him, the only tangible thing to soothe and comfort Andrew in his lonely muteness and suffering."

I thought of how worshipping God through song had gotten us through so much of our trial together and how particularly he had craved it in the hospital for his previous surgeries or at his worst times. And so we had sung to him the last three days on his deathbed in the hospital day and night, my sister and I, or just me, or me and his family, or with David, our worship pastor, and his guitar, and Bob, my brother-in-law/pastor/professional singer. It was as if the molecules in his room were full with worship, a bubble around all of us undulating with sound. When Andrew's hospital room was awash with worship, the other patients, who could walk, all gathered at Andrew's door.

We sang to him, knowing the morphine could not reach his heart, singing, knowing he had always longed for the music like David's harp to Saul's demons.

"As I lay next to Gracie, I had trouble with the humming part of I Will Glory then, sobbing for Andrew and those sweet moments of singing to him in that very bed, loving him, and trying to comfort him."

Soon after that entry, as thoughts of Andrew faded just a bit like it had for that one moment in our old room, I forgot to wear my wedding ring for a whole day for the first time in 5.5 years. Literally the first time. In 5.5 years.

Then, it was as if I lost him in heaven.

This is when the pain began to truly start. I realized that I was not a wife learning how to live without her husband while he was away in another country. I, in fact, was no longer, a wife.

As June and July and August wore on, the misery grew more and more unbearable. Dinner time was the worst. Before, dinner had always been the climax of the day. After missing Andrew all day long, in our split-level in Washington when we would hear the garage door open for Andrew's car driving in, the kids and I would rush to the top of the stairs. Each night, I would hold Gracie, who was still a baby, on my hip, while AJ clung to my other hip. Andrew would ascend the stairs and we would exclaim, "Welcome home, Papa!" Looking tired after a long commute, he'd look up at us, and his face would light up. Soon after, we'd sit to a candle lit dinner and leisurely catch up on each other's days while the kids, still unable to talk, sat quietly nibbling on their food.

Now, however, there was still the expectation of the climactic dinner of the day, yet Andrew never came home. With each dinner, playing music that made me think of him, as we sat the three of us at our dining room table, alone, quiet, the misery grew worse and worse. It was the supreme anti-climax of the day, of the month, of the summer.

I wrote on Aug. 6th in my journal, "I had been following after him through the gold cobblestones of heaven, got distracted, and lost him. Since returning to my own country, it's like each layer of my skin is falling off, and with the loss of each layer, my body feels more and more raw, sensitive, and excruciating until it feels like there will be nothing left but a giant hole where my heart used to be. But perhaps after the de-skinning, maybe the skin will grow back new and fresh.

"Today I put my rings back on having forgotten too much to wear them all summer, hoping that maybe my absent rings were the source of my unbearable pain. Maybe if I just put them back on, the misery might relent just a little.

"With them on my finger, I was surprised how shiny my engagement ring was. Caught off guard by its beauty. Yet, in a way, it felt as if it didn't belong to me. Not that I don't belong to Andrew anymore, but more, surprisingly, like he doesn't belong to me anymore." The ring, which used to be a symbol to me of Andrew's ardent devotion and love and commitment, now was empty, only a symbol of how he no longer belonged to me.

The misery was so profound and had lasted so long, those months of summer, I found myself growing more and more cynical, not sure I even believed in the concept of "happiness." I couldn't imagine ever not being miserable, because I couldn't remember what it felt like to be happy. I wasn't sure if I had ever been happy my whole entire life. I thought, "Does happiness really exist? Other people look happy. Maybe I'm just not capable of happiness."

Then the Lord had a little surprise for me, a ray of hope. Aug. 10th: "Last night watched some videos from my camera that Andrew took while he was carving a pumpkin with the kids and I was preparing lunch, shortly before we had left for two months in California. I hadn't really been paying attention when he had laid the small, digital camera flat on the counter and recorded it, so I hadn't expected to find those videos of the mundane in our lives. Seeing those videos, I realize even though I looked old, stressed, and worn out, it was still a happy time of life together. God had graciously given me hope and kept us unaware just how near his death was. As a result, I was able to enjoy that time of him, with him.

"We looked happy in our fourness. I've forgotten what it was like to be happy and find it hard to imagine me ever having been happy. But in those videos, I sense a sweetness amidst the suffering, just being the four of us. And there was an intense security for the kids in the love and affection of their father, which I enjoyed too. It was like Andrew and I were the bread holding the sandwich of our family together, the children looking so warm and comfy in our abundant love. Now, it is like I'm a lone piece of bread hanging off a ceiling and the children are miraculously sticking to their mom-bread by the invisible God-husband. But we feel confused, lonely, dobutful, bewildered, yet held up nonetheless."

Aug. 8th:
"How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart all the day...?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
Enlighten my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death...
But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.
Psalm 13

"Help me to believe Your promises, Oh Lord. I confess to You not trusting You, calling You a liar in my heart. Not believing You will rescue this time or heal my broken heart. Thank You for showing me those videos, reminding me that I am capable of happiness. I have been in such dark places. Places of despair."

Long Beach Island

My sister-in-law said I should come with the kids to New Jersey mid-August when they came from California and rented a house on Long Beach Island for a week. She and my brother offered to fly the kids and me out there. I had been avoiding New Jersey, fearful that the memories there might destroy me once and for all. At first, I thought maybe I would only stay the week at Long Beach Island and take off for Minnesota right from there, avoiding any places that might contain memories with Andrew. But I could really use the help with the kids and had no other plans, so I decided to stay a few more weeks in New Jersey after Long Beach Island until September.

I wrote on August 25th:

"Whenever I've found myself in a jam the past six months since Andrew died, I've often thought, 'This time the Lord is not going to come through (even though He always has in the past). I'll be left on my own to rot.' But every time, the Lord comes through. He is re-building my faith. Last week at Long Beach Island was the most restful, refreshing, pressureless vacation I've had since my honeymoon. It was a dream. Perhaps a lot of what was making me so hopeless before was a combination of overwhelming, relentless lonliness, and the ensuing exhaustion from relentlessly battling lonliness amidst the everyday demands of a life as a grieving widow and single mom."

On Long Beach Island, we had stayed at a beach house on the water with my brother and his family, my sister and three of her kids, and my parents. It felt so safe and secure and cozy to go to sleep and wake up each day in a house surrounded, smooshed in by my family. I had not been in New Jersey since Christmas of '07, just before Andrew's second cancer diagnosis and our lives fell apart. I had forgotten how good it felt to be home in New Jersey. Most of our relatives lived a half hour away and they also came and filled the house with themselves and lots of Filipino food. The kids had six of their cousins to play with every day, plus my own cousins' kids too when they came.

My journal continues: "While I was in Long Beach Island, I thought of the rest and fun, which up until that point I couldn't even remember the definition of 'fun,' as being like Tylenol - numbs the pain. But I realized, Tylenol is not necessarily a bad thing simply because it only deals with the symptoms and has no ability to heal. What it does do, though, is provide enough rest from the pain to provide enough relief to the body so that it is freed up to rest and heal itself. Maybe all I did need was some rest, a break in the pain, Tylenol, provided by God, to heal up a bit."

Remember in an old entry I had said that I had always wanted to be stolen away on a vacation if Andrew died? I had wanted that because I had read on Anne's (http://anneofavenel.xanga.com/weblog) blog that her brother had taken her and her kids to his beach house as soon as her husband died of cancer, May of '08. The pictures looked so restful and so perfect, her kids actually smiling, despite what had just happened, with their hair blowing on the beach as they ran towards the water. I had thought for some reason they had gone to Long Island, rather than Long Beach Island, so I hadn't realized that the very specifics of my dream had come true until I got to meet her and talk about it a few days later. I, too, had been stolen away by my brother to Long Beach Island.

After Long Beach Island, I was able to spend a few days in Manhattan with the kids and my close cousin, Kathy, at her apartment near Wall Street.

I wrote in my journal August 25th while in Manhattan, "During my private worship today, whispered, 'Lord, I give you my broken heart.' Immediately what interrupted my thought was one of the songs from our wedding:

"Lord, I give You my heart
I give You my soul
I live for You alone.
Every breath that I take,
every moment I'm awake,
Lord have Your way in me.

"Said, 'Lord, even though it is You that has hurt me,' and I began weeping, 'I still believe that happiness can only be found in You and living for You, because You are the only Way, the only Truth, and the only Life.

"Lord, please make me live only for You every day for the rest of my life."

Fellow(shipping) Bloggers

Afterwards, about 10 days into our trip, I drove down to Andrew's parents house in Princeton Junction. As soon as I arrived, I dropped the kids off and left for a dinner. I had set up to meet with two fellow New Jersey Christian bloggers. Mutual friends or acquaintances had sent us each other's blogs when all of our spouses were still alive. We had all lost our spouses within six months of each other and had been following each others blogs. I felt like I knew them already and really wanted to meet them in person and switch notes, since I had never met anyone else who had lost their young spouses to cancer after a brief marriage. Anne (mentioned above) is a single mom of three and Rupert (http://rupandesther.xanga.com/), lost his wife, Esther, July of 2008. Meeting the two of them was another extraordinary part of my time in New Jersey.

We must have been at the Thai restaurant nearly an hour, while the waitress had dropped by already 4 or 5 times before we could stop talking and look at the menu. In the end, Anne said she was tired of making endless decisions, and I said, "Me too!" as the single leaders of our homes. So we left it up to Rupert to order all the food. Then, fulfilling our gender stereotypes, Anne and I continued to talk endlessly while Rupert ate most of the food. Afterwards, we got to get my favorite, which I was hoping to find during my time in New Jersey, bubble tea. There are two things that make me happy every time, no matter how things are falling apart - ballet and bubble tea.

Our conversations were such an example of how true it is that "No temptation has seized you except what is common to man" (1 Cor. 10:13). Having been through such similar circumstances, being our spouse's caregiver 24/7, loving them, and losing them, we all experienced the same struggles and thoughts. When they spoke, it was as if they were quoting my own thoughts, even if I had not opened my mouth.

Lovers' Lane

Princeton Junction at Andrew's boyhood house was hard. And visiting Princeton, the next town, was like a knife in my chest, as Andrew and I had spent so many sweet moments there during our engagement and when AJ was a baby. The quaint college town with all its colonial exteriors looked the same as always, and I had to keep reminding myself that it was, indeed, 2009, and that if I turned my head, no, Andrew would not be sitting beside me.

If you've ever been to Nassau St. across the street from Princeton University, you may have seen a bronze statue of a man reading a bronze book sitting next to a real tree. AJ and Gracie threw themselves upon it and, clasping its neck, screamed, "Papa!" AJ asked me to read to him what the book the man was reading said. I read the first line: "All our dreams have been dashed to pieces."

And Pennsylvania

In Pennsylvania, I visited Julie and Sarah for a couple of days. We had been a threesome at our childhood ballet school. They both happened to move to the same part of Pennsylvania.

Since April, I have been able to take ballet again regularly for the first time since college. For my 1.5 hours in a ballet studio, I hurl myself fiercely into that activity and nothing exists outside of that room.

Sarah, too, recently started dancing again. We went to her ballet school and she and I got to take ballet - en pointe - for the first time together in probably 15 years (the last time was probably when we were 14).

I was ecstatic.

In the end

My 23 days in New Jersey was a dream.

I had been apprehensive about visiting New Jersey, but in the end, the Lord knew that that was exactly what I had needed. His Word continues to show itself to be faithful and true, "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18). Our trip was so refreshing body and soul.

I love the LORD, because He has heard
My voice and my supplications.
Because He has inclined His ear to me,
Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live.

- Psalm 116:1-2

September 11th

We returned to Minnesota, Sept. 5th, in time for AJ and Gracie's preschool to start the following week.

For what would have been Andrew's 28th birthday, we threw a very last minute dinner party on Sept. 11th. The kids and I worked all day to prepare. My sister asked AJ if he felt sad that day, and he said, "No, I feel happy. Everyone's happy in our house. We made cake."

Despite sending out an email invitation the afternoon of Sept. 10th, nearly 30 people showed up that Friday night. I made a bunch of dishes Andrew liked and the strawberry shortcake (Betty Crocker, "super moist," white cake with homemade whipped cream) he had every year of his life from the time he was in his mother's house through our marriage, except for the last year, when he was not capable of eating through his mouth. It was the first time making dinner for guests since Andrew had been diagnosed the second time March of '08. I was definitely in over my head, but I think that's what I needed. I find that whenever I do a hobby nowadays, I always throw myself in desperately, an outlet to turn all my hurt into something positive.

The next day we passed by the cemetary to vist Andrew's grave. It had been really hard to visit it prior to the arrival of his headstone in August, because all I could do was stand over the raised soil over his grave and think, "This is something I never imagined myself doing." To think of his bones beneath the ground, that I could never hold his hand again, or put my head on his chest, because it was disintegrating beneath the ground all felt so senseless to me.

But, now, seeing his name, "ANDREW W. MARK," inscribed on the headstone was like the next closest thing to seeing Andrew himself. I ran to it, as if running to him.

His mom and I had chosen black granite, because black always was the color he chose for things. We kept it simple, straight-forward, in Andrew's efficient style. It said, "Beloved," on one line, because that is what we called each other. On the next, it said, "Husband, Father, and Son." But the following was for me and others, an abbreviation of one of the phrases early Christians inscribed in their catacombs:

"In Christ, Andrew is not dead but lives with God."

Champagne

2009-07-06T22:34:00.007-05:00

There was something about our trip to the car dealership today that made my heart feel like it was sinking slowly out of my body.

A friend told me that if my car ever broke down during a frigid Minnesota winter, we could die. So I was counseled to sell both my mini-van and Andrew's CRV to buy something newer, more reliable, and something that as a single mom will cause me as little hassle as possible.

Since my mom works for a car dealership in New Jersey, I asked her to keep her eyes open for what I was looking for at a particular price. Two Christmases ago, three months before Andrew was diagnosed a 2nd time with cancer, Andrew and the kids and I flew one-way to New Jersey. The plan was to drive back to Minnesota with a 2004 CRV my mom had snagged for us at the price Andrew wanted after the holidays. Andrew chose his usual color scheme - black exterior, dark interior. This color choice in his Acura Integra in college looked very cool and very cute. But I had felt uncertain about the same choice in this car, saying that a single-toned black CRV looked less to me like a sport-utility vehicle and more like he was driving himself in his own stubby hearse. Nonetheless, he chose the black on black.

Last Thursday my mom found a great deal for the type of vehicle I was looking for. Friday I looked at it at a local dealership and today, Monday, her manager in New Jersey negotiated with the manager at the local, Minnesota car dealership on my behalf. He was able to get the price for me here as I would have gotten at my mom's dealership so I wouldn't have to spend the money and hassle to fly to New Jersey with the kids and drive the vehicle back with them, especially since we had no plans to visit New Jersey this summer.

I took the kids this afternoon to the dealership to fill out the paperwork, and we drove the new car home together. The Lord provided for me as my Husband. It was the quickest, easiest car purchase I had ever experienced. And yet, it was terribly depressing to me. This was the first time I had ever purchased a car all by myself.

I have no control over day after day passing, acumulating since I last heard Andrew's voice calling me "Precious," or saw his wide almond eyes looking at me rich with love. It's like rowing a kayak and you drop your paddle into the water. You grab for it but it drops just beyond your reach. You grasp further and further, but it continues to sink lower and lower until finally the murky waters swallow it, and it is gone.

In the same way, as I struggle to put one foot in front of the next, the steps accumulating, the kids and I are inevitably moving on. I have no control over us moving on, paddling my arms across the water, one stroke after the next, lest we drown if I don't keep swimming. I keep looking longingly back, but forward we go. I keep reaching for Andrew, but he is already away. The black, short hearse no longer applies, the foreshadowing already fullfilled.

The CRV must go, along with the champagne Chrysler Town and Country mini-van that was like a second home to the four of us when we lived in Washington, so far from family and home. We drove the 1998 champagne Chrysler up and down, back and forth from Washington the 12 hours to San Francisco, visiting my brothers; and back and forth the two hours north to Vancouver, B.C. to get Andrew's beloved authentic food and dim sum, nearly as good as that of Hong Kong; and finally we drove the two thousand miles east to Minnesota. The hand-me-down mini-van that his parents had bought when he was 17 with its luxurious leather interior and heated seats that I thought fell from heaven when the van arrived, heating me so sore with nine months of carrying a truck on my front - I mean Gracie - during my pregnancy. The champagne Chrysler Town and Country that was too good for us but so good for us.

The life-saver champagne Chrysler we often drove the forty minutes just to get bubble tea in Lynnwood, WA as our 3 month-old and 18 month-old fell asleep in their car seats during their bedtime and Andrew and I could have a date in the last row behind the two babies in their captain's seats. We sipped the sweet purple, taro milk tea or smooth, almond milk tea with their tapioca bubbles through the giant straws, giggling like we were on another date back in our dating days, sitting on the tan leather row as excitedly as if we were sitting on one of the couches in the tea house without children. Our van was where the kids were safely strapped in and quiet, looking out the window at Washington's evergreen trees or enjoying Mozart on CD or sleeping, giving Andrew and I hours of time to talk and laugh as we drove even the 45 minutes each way to visit Seattle. It was our portable babysitter, who's only cost was the gas.

Goodbye champagne Chrysler. Goodbye stubby hearse.

Goodbye. Andrew.

I'll see you soon enough, my love.

4 Months

2009-06-10T22:33:00.003-05:00

Haven't known what to write. Have 4 blogs un-published in the queue, but haven't been sure if I should publish any of them. But I have wanted to write something at least to ask for your prayers. So I figured I'd keep it short and simply say, while at 3 months I thought I was feeling better, at 4 months I miss Andrew more sharply than ever. The lonliness for him is sometimes relentless and with each week, it seems to get worse. I have cried out to God, I think, like I have never before.

Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am in distress;
My eye is wasted away from grief, my soul and my body also.
For my life is spent with sorrow
And my years with sighing;
My strength has failed because of my iniquity,
And my body has wasted away....

As for me, I said in my alarm,
"I am cut off from before Your eyes";
Nevertheless You heard the voice of my supplications
When I cried to You.
O love the LORD, all you His godly ones!
The LORD preserves the faithful
And fully recompenses the proud doer.
Be strong and let your heart take courage,
All you who hope in the LORD.

- Psalm 31:9-10,22-24

Slideshow from Andrew's Memorial Service

2009-05-08T14:36:00.011-05:00

The Purse

2009-04-14T16:21:00.014-05:00

I had mentioned to a neighbor, Melissa, who was really trying to reach out to me as Andrew was dying, that if he died, I wanted to be stolen away for a few days for a short vacation. I had more expected to go with my mom somewhere. But, Andrew ended up dying mid-winter, and anywhere local to Minnesota in February was icy tundra. When things began to settle down a bit, Melissa kept mentioning going on a vacation somewhere. She lives down the street and I only met her in September. I was surprised she wanted to go with me, considering it wasn't until Andrew died that I even had the time to start to get to know her, but really appreciated her kindness. Melissa loves Jesus and she has had such an eager heart to be there for me. So Melissa and I planned a trip to Florida. At the beginning of April, I went with the kids, Melissa, and her daughter to Clearwater, Florida for a short vacation.

In the meantime, around 6 weeks the daily crying began to subside. I had been surprised that the pain I was feeling was less fresh and sharp. It was about 7 weeks since Andrew's death when we left for Florida. And so I thought I would be fine when we arrived in Florida, as it was one place I had never been to with Andrew.

As we rode on the airplane, AJ suddenly looked very downcast sitting in the blue seats of Sun Country Airlines. He said, "I just feel so sad because I don't have my Papa." It didn't matter where we were going. We were in the blue seats without Papa.

I was completely unprepared for the memories that would blast me in Florida. When we arrived Wednesday evening, I couldn't figure out what was so familiar about standing outside the airport in the humid air amidst the palm trees. Was it LAX it reminded me of, all those times flying in and out of the Los Angeles airport to return home to New Jersey or arriving back in LA for school? And the last several times being joined by my new love as we travelled to our homes in New Jersey together? How could the Florida airport remind me of that, if LA is dry desert and Florida's air was thick with moisture?

We arrived at my aunt's condo right on the Florida gulf and instead of feeling I was in unexplored territory that could not remind me of my love, every memory I had of every vacation I had with Andrew flew at me. They began to coincide into one memory, so that I would have to think through them, separate them, organize them into the proper time and place. My aunt's condo was right on the beach with a beautiful view of the water. Andrew loved views. The time we accompanied him on a business trip to Coer D'Allaine, Idaho and stayed in a hotel over the blue lake when Gracie was three months old and AJ was 18 months old the summer of 2006 melded into the memory when just he and I stayed in a hotel that overlooked the Pacific Ocean in Canada just after he recovered from his first time through radiation and chemo in the summer of 2007.

I had brought with me the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. As I read from it each night, I began to long for the beautiful, vivid place my love was already enjoying. I read the part that said, "Perhaps you're afraid of becoming 'so heavenly minded you're of no earthly good.' Relax...On the contrary, many of us are so earthly minded we are of no heavenly or earthly good. C.S. Lewis observed, '...you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next. The Apostles...all left their mark on Earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with Heaven. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at Heaven and you will get earth 'thrown in': aim at earth and you will get neither.'"

On Saturday, it was a clear sunny day. The water had a gorgeous greenish-blue tint and the sand was white. It was our day to spend at the beach behind our condo. While we were leaving the condo, I discovered that I had been missing my purse since the night before. I had gotten distracted by the kids and was desperately missing Andrew, laid it down somewhere, and didn't think of it till morning. After realizing where I had left it and checking all possible lost and founds, it became obvious that someone had taken advantage of the opportunity and stolen my purse.

The most distressing thing about it was that I needed my license to be able to fly back to Minnesota Monday and I needed my cell phone that was in the purse because there was a voicemail on it that I had been saving for over a year.

The voicemail was of Andrew telling me about a conversation he had had with AJ, when AJ had told Andrew that he wanted to pray that Jesus would save him. A month after Andrew left that message, he was diagnosed with cancer for the 2nd time and our lives never were the same again. I called my cell phone company about suspending my plan until I switched it to a new phone. They said that if I switched my plan to a new cell phone, then my voicemail would be lost forever. I felt so hopeless and longed for Andrew to return to me so much that it felt like I could reach my hand through the veil of eternity and touch him.

That afternoon, I couldn't stop thinking about the movie Prince Caspian, that we had just watched with the kids the other night. How the kings were too proud, self-reliant and had too little faith to go to Aslan (the Jesus figure) with their hopeless situation. But when they were finally at the end of themselves and went to Aslan, Aslan simply roared and it was so easy for everything to obey him to defeat the enemy.

I cried out to God that He promises to be a Husband to the husbandless, and that He knew this would never have happened if I had had my husband. I told the Lord that I was in a situation that was too big for me but was so easy for Him to handle. Using Melissa's cell phone, I called my cell phone several times for about the 20th time that day. A minute after praying, Melissa's cell phone rang saying that "Grace" was calling. I immediately answered like a small animal that had just been run over and was gasping its last word: "Pleease," I answered the phone with. "My husband just died and I'm really having a hard time. Pleeease, I just need my license and my cell phone back. Pleeeease."

My sister had specifically been praying that they would have a change of heart, and, indeed, that is what had happened to these teenagers. They said, "Yeah, we'll return your stuff," acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. In God's sovereignty, He hadn't allow me to cancel my cell phone. If I had, they would have never been able to call me back on Melissa's cell phone.

At the end of the conversation I said, "Can I ask you why you want to return it to me?"

They said, "Why? Cause it's the right thing to do."

The Lord gave me a heart of compassion for them, and I felt moved to bring them something that would tell them about Jesus. I had them meet me at the security guard.

When I arrived to meet them, the security guard was already grilling them. They said it was their friend who had stolen my purse and they were just returning it. They gave me back my cell phone and wallet containing everything in it, complete with $2 bill and gift cards. I had brought Andrew's Bible with me to meet them (it was a cheap pew Bible that he had bought last year and he had carried around with him ever since then. He had written his name in thick black ink). I handed it to them and said, "My husband died two months ago at the age of 27 from cancer. If you had known him 10 years ago, you probably would have been friends with him." I told them to read the book of John or Romans. They lowered their chins and looked up at me, slowly nodding.

They felt so bad that they returned again to the security guard with Andrew's Bible, a few hours later and confessed to me that they were the real thieves. I made them keep his Bible and told them that's what Andrew would want them to have. They said that every lie they had said felt like a knife stab.

It was like the Lord had pursued them like an angry husband who was looking out for his wife, only this Husband was omnipresent and could follow them in their car and could influence their consciences.

What kept coming to mind as I stood before them was that nothing anyone could do to me, no matter how horrible that day was, could compare to what I did to Jesus on the cross, nailing Him there daily with each of my sins. I had been reading the book of Luke, and so many of the passages kept flying to mind.

"And the Pharisees and their scribes grumbled at his disciples, saying, 'Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?' And Jesus answered them, 'Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance' (Luke 5:30-32). What does this passage mean when Romans 3 says that "There is no one righteous, not even one." If we don't see ourselves in the same category as "tax collectors and sinners" and thieves who are all in desperate need of Jesus' mercy, then perhaps it is not because we are not sinners, but because we are in the same category as the self-righteous Pharisees, which Jesus thought was even worse. We are all tax collectors, sinners, and thieves, even if our sin takes on a different face. Before God, we are all guilty. I didn't feel angry at them, because Jesus wasn't angry at me. He forgives and accepts me every day. That was something Andrew had taught me by his own eagerness to forgive and accept me every day.

I mentioned that I forgave them to which one of them exclaimed "YOU DO???"

They said they had never done anything like this before and that they had stolen from the wrong person.

I said, "No, God allowed this to happen so that you could hear about Jesus and give your lives to Him." I told them that at the same time, though, God was not pleased with what they had done and that they would have to stand before God - any moment, we couldn't know when - and answer at His Judgment throne for stealing my purse from me. I said, "This isn't the first sin you've committed in your life -"

"No, it isn't!" one of them exclaimed.

"You have sinned against God your whole life. And you will either have to pay in hell for all eternity, or Jesus can pay for all of your sins for you if you ask for His forgiveness and submit your lives to Him. Then you can enjoy Him now and for all eternity."

I kept telling them about Jesus and that they could only find relief from a life of guilt in Him.

"Okay, we want to do that now, then!" one of them said. "But you pray for us," he said, "since you know how to do that."

I prayed for them - with my eyes open - again explaining how one can know Jesus. I said "Dear Lord, I pray for these young men, who's real names I don't really know -" they interjected their real names - and then I continued.

When I finished, I said, "Now, I can't save you. Only Jesus can. You will have to give your lives to Him yourselves. But there is a price. Any one who follows Jesus is promised suffering. But Jesus if far better than anything you are pursuing here. He is far better than any pleasures you are living for."

I shared with them Andrew's testimony and as I kept telling them the gospel in many different ways, one of them began to look increasingly angry, while the other one looked increasinly wide-eyed and attentive.

Towards the end of my conversation with them, I showed them in the Bible where John and Romans were. The attentive one said, "I've never read a book in my life, but I will definitely read this one!" I gave them my email address if they had any questions about what I told them to read, but that I wouldn't have internet access until I returned home.

When I arrived in Minnesota Monday evening, there were three emails from the particularly attentive one and that he had started to read the Bible. He said he didn't really understand it, but that he would keep reading it over and over until he did understand, like I had told him Andrew had done.

Eventually, he mentioned that his grandmother, who he lived with, goes to church (I looked it up and it is Southern Baptist), and she had helped him by telling him just to read and a passage would stick out for him.

I looked up some churches in the area and sent him to a Sovereign Grace church. He actually went on Easter! Please pray that He would give his life to Jesus.

The Keepsake Box

2009-04-13T14:59:00.004-05:00

On Saturday, I wished I could hear Andrew tell me he loved me. You know how it is, wives, how we know that our husbands love us, but we need them to reassure us and hear it often? It's like we begin to doubt the obvious, no matter how many declarations of love or how many sacrifices our husbands have made for us.

I began to wonder, "Did Andrew really love me? Or did he just love me in obedience to God? Did he still have anymore real affection for me, even after five years of marriage had passed together? If he did, wouldn't he have written specific things he loved about me, rather than just saying the three words?"

I went upstairs to look at old cards Andrew and I had given to each other over the years. He had gathered them and put them in a file box of keepsakes before he died. I even found an old birthday card I had sent him two weeks late, September of 2002, in a shy, yet verbose, attempt to communicate with my secret crush. (It didn't cause him to suspect I had liked him, since, as I had witnessed, he thought birthday cards from random girls were the norm at the time. Apparently, he preferred my three-page soliloquy, cause it made it past the trash).

Even though I had looked in the box since Andrew died, I had missed something. Amidst the cards there was a sealed envelope: "To Grace and kids," it said on the front. "Only open if something happens to me."

Inside were three letters, one for each of us. I vaguely recalled that he had written them before his last surgery, March of '08.

3-19-08

My sweet sweet Grace. I love you so much. There is no other woman in the world like you. I wish we could take another walk together and hold hands like we used to do at night around the apartments at UCLA. I love to hold your hand and swing it back and forth and just listen to you talk about everything. I love watching you read your script off the top of your eyelids and all the facial expressions and body movements that help express your feelings. The amazing thing is that you somehow are able to get all of those rich expressions and emotions onto paper when you write. Keep writing and publish our book.

I love your smile, and your lips...You are such a great mom. Keep loving our kids and training them and teaching them about everything. When you correct them, remember that it is a gift of love to our children just as cancer is a gift of love to us.

I love you so much. I wish I could embrace you right now. Know that I am with the Lord rejoicing and praising God without the pain of sickness. Go on living like normal. The Lord will take care of you and the kids. He is a faithful, loving Father.

"Do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God
I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,
Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand."
- Isaiah 41:10

-- Superman

Tuesday, March, 18, 2009

Dear Andrew David Mark,

I'm going to have surgery this Thursday and I wanted to write you a letter to tell you how much I love you. The Lord has blessed me with such an energetic and curious young boy. I hope to be able to see you grow up into a strong young man. You have such a tender heart towards other people and I can see it in the way you love your mom and your sister. Today Gracie was going up the steps into the mud room and she dropped her cup. Since she has difficulty going backwards on the steps and we were all waiting for Gracie to get out of the way, you reached down and got her cup and handed it to her with a big smile so that she could continue up the steps. I also love how you pay attention to details like when you were just 2 years old. I kept calling you "Superman" when you were wearing a Spiderman outfit, and you politely corrected me. Or the time I put you in the wrong car seat and you kept saying, "I want that one," pointing to your car seat on the other side of the car. You're always paying attention!

I also love how you have so much energy. You wake up early and play in your room. When Mama gets you up, you run downstairs and get a pull-up and run back up and put it on yourself. Today you had so much energy, you were running in circles downstairs from the kitchen to the living room, to the foyer and back to the kitchen.

I can already tell that you are a very talented person. Keep your head on straight and keep working hard even if things seem to come easily to you. Stay close to the Lord, and pray a lot. Take care of your mom and yours sister. Love you so much.

Proverbs 3:5-12

Trust in the LORD with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight.

Do not be wise in your own eyes;
Fear the LORD and turn away from evil.

It will be healing to your body
And refreshment to your bones.

Honor the LORD from your wealth
And from the first of all your produce;
So your barns will be filled with plenty
And your vats will overflow with new wine.

My son, do not reject the discipline of the LORD
or loathe his reproof,
for whom the LORD loves He reproves,
Even as a father corrects the son in whom he delights.

-- Papa

Dear Grace Olivia Mark,

You have always been a bundle of grace in my life. Since the day you were born, I could always look at you and know that God is good. The first time I got to cuddle with you in the hospital, I was so happy that the Lord had given us another child. You were such a tiny baby wrapped up that I was able to hold you with just one hand. I love your smiles and your sweet kisses. Whenever I ask for a kiss you always give me one right on the lips.

You love to cuddle and press your cheeks against mine. Just a few weeks ago we found out that my cancer was much worse than we expected. That morning you had just woken up and your mom was crying and I was feeling scared. I picked you up and you hugged me and clung to me in my lap for about half-an-hour and comforted me. Right now you are learning to talk and you make up your own words like, "Mapa," and "Dat Un," or "Down Er." Since you love to eat one of your favorite words is, "Mo-a."

Perhaps one day you will be a performer. You already love to dance and you've got a voice that carries. Most of all, love the Lord, and learn all you can from your wonderful Mama. The Lord has blessed you with a very special Mom to learn from. And if I'm not around, please remember that the Lord is your Father and your Husband. Keep close to Him and you will be satisfied. I love you.

Psalm 68:3-19

But let the righteous be glad; let them exult before God;
Yes, let them rejoice with gladness.

Sing to God, sing praises to His name;
Lift up a song for Him who rides through the deserts,
Whose name is the LORD, and exult before Him.

A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows,
Is God in His holy habitation.

God makes a home for the lonely;
He leads out the prisoners into prosperity,
Only the rebellious dwell in a parched land.

O God, when You went forth before Your people,
When You marched through the wilderness, Selah.

The earth quaked;
The heavens also dropped rain at the presence of God;
Sinai itself quaked at the presence of God, the God of Isreal.

You shed abroad a plentiful rain, O God;
You confirmed Your inheritance when it was parched.

Your creatures settled in it;
You provided in Your goodness for the poor, O God.

-- Papa

Andrew's Two Month Letter

2009-04-10T15:35:00.003-05:00

On April 7, 2002 Andrew was baptized at Grace Community Church in Los Angeles, declaring to all that he had turned from a life of sin and living for himself and instead had surrendered his life to Jesus, the One and only true God, Maker of heaven and earth.

April 7, 2009 marks two months after Andrew went to see His Savior face to face.

This is Andrew's last letter until the one year anniversary of his death.

2 months

Dear Grace,

His mercies are new every morning. Satisfy yourself in God’s great love for you through the gospel. You are accepted as a beloved child, and there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. I’m sure life is still a little crazy, but if you are in despair just remember that this too will pass. You’ll get through each day one at a time. Keep a steady mindset, and put one foot in front of the other.

Remember to stay on top of training the children. Most importantly they need love, but sometimes love comes in the form of loving correction. Gracie most of all needs to know who is in authority. Now that I am no longer around, the children really need to see you take my place as the ultimate human authority in the household. You need to be intentional about having them submit to your authority, and ultimately God’s authority.

With regards to balancing everything that is on your plate you will need to really step back and trust God...You are not in the same situation as other women may be in where their entire job is devoted to caring for their children and husband's needs. You have now taken on a huge job of leading the family. You don’t know what that entails yet, but it is a lot of work... So we need to do things that will get the most bang for the buck in terms of time, money, effort and flexibility.

Firstly, you’ll need to pray and trust God that He will keep your bodies healthy and free of disease. However, He may afflict you or our kids anyways just as He did to Job...If you are reading this then we know that God has chosen to take me home at His appointed time, and we know that God is in control of your life as well....

AJ will continue to need male examples in his life, but I think hanging out with Noah and Billy [A.J.'s cousins] and being around people at church will suffice for now. As he grows older he should be proactive about spending time with the men in the youth ministry helping them out on a weekend or assisting in ministry activities. Gracie has lots to learn from you right in the home.

I love you will all my heart. Be strong and courageous.

-Your Love

Focus

2009-03-22T23:59:00.005-05:00

I miss Andrew a lot, but truly feel God sustaining me each day beyond anything I thought possible. Gracie, who will be 3 on the 27th, is the same, always strong, happy, fearless. (My mom always calls her the "Survivor." She did afterall survive a potty birth). AJ, who turned 4 in January, has fussy days and it's usually because he's missing his papa a lot. He was really close to Andrew. He's so sensitive, aware, and has an amazing memory. Most of the time, though, he's pretty happy, loves playing with all our different neighbors, who we've been getting to know a lot since we've been back from California, and going to his new preschool 3 mornings a week that I enrolled him in 2 weeks ago.

I'm really thankful for the times we have together at night before bed. I have a lot of heart-to-hearts with AJ, and the kids really need a lot of affection and reassurance right now. At age four, I think AJ is old enough to possibly remember a lot of Andrew. I keep praying the Lord will preserve his memories. The other night he mentioned his last birthday in California and asked if I had eaten any of his birthday cake.

I said yes.

He asked if papa had too.

I said no.

He asked why?

I said, Remember? He had a feeding tube, and I pointed to my stomach.

He said, "Yeah, and he used to have one too in his nose."

And I asked when.

And he said, "'A long long long long time ago."

He was right. A year ago for several weeks right after Andrew's surgery, he had a tube in his nose to feed through before he ever had a bigger one put into his stomach. AJ remembers a year ago!

In general, all day long AJ has various questions related to death and heaven. They have been constant opportunities to talk about so many different aspects of the Lord. How He is always good, always is with us, is everwhere, anywhere we are, yet is in heaven with papa. How He hates sin, and yet is forgiving, and we are incapable of obeying Him on our own, but through His Holy Spirit He can change our hearts to grow us more like Him. How He promises to be a Papa to the fatherless and will take care of us and we can trust Him. How He is yes, even bigger than Spiderman, and can rescue even those Spiderman cannot.

I feel as if God is really growing me through this difficult time. I feel more sensitive to spiritual things than ever before. When I hear a song on the radio that mentions eternity, I listen to the words intently, looking for truthful images, wonder if it's giving me a clue into what Andrew is seeing right now. Even if my private worship (my time in God's Word and prayer) was cut short a couple of times or I even missed it, I realize at Sunday worship that my mind has still been meditating on spiritual things most of the week, because it is so easy to worship God in song with all my heart and listen to the message without being distracted, though it has always been a much greater struggle in the past.

It as if any and everything during the day makes me think about how it looks to God, how He would see it and interpret it, what it has to do with heaven, eternity.

I feel as if everything has become very clear-cut, at least for the time-being, and my vision feels clear right now too. God uses searing pain to cause everything to come into focus.

The letters of Andrew

Andrew's letters have really shepherded me so much through this time. Reading his letters almost nightly the first month, all of which I have posted so far (at least the ones I'm supposed to read. There are still the 2 month, 1 year, 1st wedding anniversary without him, and a few others as well as for watershed events in the kids lives), have guided me how to structure my day, such as using the kids two-hour afternoon nap to take care of the onslaught of paper work related to his countless medical bills, changing names on all kinds of accounts, logistical things having to do with death or not having him here (...still goin' at it). Him telling me to take a realistic time during the day to work on all those things, plus telling me not to feel overwhelmed but to take things one step at a time, have truly protected me from feeling overwhelmed the first month. God also answered his prayer that it would be easy and fun for me to take care of all of those things, which truly shocked me, because I have always despised paper work, particularly when it's related to messed up bills and insurance companies. The Holy Spirit really must have given him the words to write, because how could he know what I was going to go through and know exactly just what I needed to hear?

I'm learning so much from Andrew's leadership in his letters, despite how proud and stubborn I always was when he was actually here. I find that I always forget little things he wrote in the letters, and so certain phrases become new to me again when I read them or strengthen me anew or refocus me.

I never could imagine life without Andrew, but somehow there is. I can't explain it. How I can miss someone that I love so much and yet still be okay. My only explanation is that the Lord is really helping me.

"But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless." - Psalm 10:14

Prayer Requests

- that I would be consistent in my private worship. that the Lord would refresh me each day and continue to sustain me as a single mom. The kids were sick this weekend, so I had to say no to some invitations. Being sequestered all weekend drove me a little crazy.

- (for the same requests as in the previous post)

Verse of the day

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:23).

Glory

2009-03-12T23:07:00.019-05:00

After the whirlwind of Andrew's memorial service, I found that each day, I generally felt fine. During those times, I thought, this isn't so bad. If this is what it's like, then I don't see how we can't get through this. And then some time after dinner each night, I felt the complete opposite for an hour or two and wasn't sure if I would make it through the next minute. I was grateful, though, that at least there was relief each day for most of it. I had always expected my grief would be a suffocating dark cloud, relentless without any sunshine to pierce it. Yet, each day I could breathe. But when the misery took over after the kids were in bed, it was like trying to breathe through a contraction. Each day felt a little better, while the misery contractions at night felt a little worse.

One thing I was forced to learn from our battle with cancer, though, was that panic, or any strong emotion related to misery, was always passing and that one should never put any stock in it. Once the panic subsided, then one could evaluate the situation, see that it wasn't completely overwhelming, and that one could then take the next step, rather than collapse in frustration. So I would breathe and wait for the contraction to subside.

My mother stayed for an additional week after Andrew passed away and I would cry to her each night. She would reassure me that indeed God was in control and I could trust in Him and rub my back like I was a little girl again and I would feel better and fall asleep. It was strange, as if I had gone from being my mom's girl, while being Andrew's for a few years was a slight hiccup, and then went back to mom's girl.

Week 3 after Andrew's Homegoing

I had bought a bunkbed from Ikea with a full-size bed on the bottom. I thought I would sleep on the top bunk, while still have the option to cuddle with one of the kids on the bottom when I felt like it, while the other one slept on the toddler bed. In the end, the top bunk always seemed too lonely and the kids always insisted I stay on the bottom. Even though they took turns sleeping on the other toddler bed, by morning, all three of us usually ended up squished together in the bottom bunk.

I put the bunk bed in their room, so the room is not too big and real cozy. I retired to the room at the same time as the kids, so I didn't have to endure lonely nights by myself and no longer had the evening bouts of misery. Even though they were asleep, I still felt comforted by their presence at night. So I started to have my bouts of grief at unexpected times in the mid-morning or after lunch. I would burst out crying, missing Andrew. The kids would each run for the tissue box, insisting that I couldn't cry, bringing me wads of tissues, their offerings to me. I would have to suck it up and hold in my tears. Since I'm basically always with the kids, I really had no opportunity to cry.

I still had to have my daily cries, even if they were only allowed to last a minute or two a couple of times in the afternoon. The kids are used to it now and no longer demand an explanation. They don't even turn from their toys all the time to overload me with tissues.

After the kids were in bed, I read for awhile, and usually fell asleep by 10. Not wanting to wake them up, I set my alarm for the latest possible time the kids might still be sleeping, assuming that I went to bed so early that I would probably be waking up way before them on my own. Not so. Grief is quite exhausting, especially if you're not allowed to express it as much as you would like to. I always woke up at the same time as them.

When I am missing Andrew, it feels so unreal that he could actually be gone. Like I'll glance a picture of him, see his familiar face, and realize, I had looked at it thousands of times, the slope of his nose, the angles of his jaw, his wide, almond eyes, the width of his cheeks. I'll think, How could he not be here anymore? He was just here. Three weeks ago. He was just here and I could look at that face any time I wanted as much as I wanted, so much and for so long, over and over day in and day out, that face, and that I thought I would always look at it. It's like saying you will never see the blue sky again. Or ever see another tree for the rest of your life. Like the mountains have fallen into the sea.

Like when some people in the World Trade Center on Sept. 11th got stuck in the elevators, collapsed down to the bottom floor and survived, but when they climbed out of the elevators, they thought they had died because they recognized nothing. The lobby was gone, ash and rubble floated everywhere like a thick fog. On the street, nothing was the same, and how could they ever imagine Manhatten could ever be recovered, restored, or look like it did just earlier that morning ever again. At that moment, the world that they had always known, was just, gone.

God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea.
- Psalm 46:1-2

When I am feeling okay, it's like standing behind the glass in an aquarium. It's really strange how it feels when I am doing okay. It is so opposite than when I'm sad. It feels very literally as if the Lord is shielding me from the onslaught of grief. When I remember the misery of the previous day, yet feel so perfectly calm and fine, it is like I am looking at that giant aquarium of water, watching the grey shark swim by, and wonder what was ever the danger of all that water to me when there is a glass wall between us.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
-Lamentations 3:22-23

I have been reading old journals of ours, trying to find some meaning, some bigger picture to the last six years. I find myself lost in Andrew's old journals that I had never read and in our old emails to each other. Reading his words make me feel like he's still human and just on the other side of a computer.

Through this trial, I have found that I don't always understand my feelings, but feel no obligation to have to be able to know what all of them are or have to explain or articulate them. But I have found that when I pray about my concerns, the Lord reveals to me what's on my heart. During small group one night when a few of us were praying together, I confessed to the Lord how I would rather read Andrew's journals than read the Bible. It suddenly came to mind then that the reason I hide myself in Andrew's journals are because I miss him so much. That may have seemed obvious but it wasn't to me until that moment. I had never known what it was to miss my husband for more than a week or to this degree. Tears gushed from my eyes.

Week 4

That rhythm of daily feeling fine with an afternoon interruption of weeping continued until last week when on a Monday I noticed from across the room some file folders in our bookshelves amidst all our books, rather than in our office. "Hm. I wonder what I'll discover there," I said. And then I found photos taken of us two days after our engagement when we had gone to Joshua Tree in California with a friend. I had seen these photos months ago, but they were the only ones I hadn't reviewed since Andrew passed away, because they weren't on our computer since someone else had taken them. Additionally, earlier that morning an old friend of Andrew's had posted a memory that he had with Andrew. I had heard the story a couple of times before, but this time he added a detail I had not heard. That memory along with our pictures, just brought those years of young, healthy Andrew so vividly to my mind. I missed Andrew's old goofiness that had faded in the months just before his cancer was discovered, when he first began to get increasingly tired and more pale.

I always wanted to know more of Andrew, hold his heart in my hand, be able to grasp his essence. I wanted to ask him questions. What was he thinking that hilarious day he carried that refrigerator up the stairs with his friend? Tell me more, tell me more, tell me more about you. I never could get enough of Andrew. I couldn't even get enough of his name or saying his name. I loved the feel of his name reverberating from my vocal chords. That's why we named A.J., Andrew Junior. I had always secretly hoped A.J. would want to use the name "Andrew" when he got a little older and his little friends could call him it. Now I'm so thankful we still have at least one Andrew here.

And so all last week, I kept playing music of Andrew's that he liked to listen to when we were first falling in love and then he began playing constantly again in the last weeks of his life. He used to listen to two Third Day CD's, Time and Come Together, over and over and over again during both those times in our lives. I never understood why he liked them so much. I liked how they sounded, but I never could follow all the lyrics, so I didn't always know what they were singing about, since either my mind would wonder or the words were slurred. I wanted to ask him what he liked so much about those songs. What resonated so much with him? Why didn't I ask him before? And yet, many times I did ask him questions like that. Often, he'd say he didn't know. And that's why I never could get enough of him. I read in one of his early journals when we were dating that he felt like I understood him often better than he understood himself. And still, it wasn't enough for me. I have always wanted to understand his heart and his mind more, even though he himself didn't know all the answers. I thought I would have the rest of our lives to discover him.

I would cry to the music as it played and I prepared breakfast for the kids or lunch or dinner. I wondered why I felt so compelled to stare at pictures of Andrew, play his music, and read beautiful journals about us falling in love if all it made me do was cry. And yet, as miserable as it was, I almost relished weeping for Andrew. I loved taking care of him when he was sick. It was hard, but the Lord gave me so much joy in it. I wanted to do anything for Andrew, and now if I can weep for him, then I am thankful to do that too.

When I was de-cluttering some piles of papers, I discovered a booklet from the funeral home about grief. It said that some people think that time heals a broken heart, but that it actually doesn't if you refuse to grieve. So it recommends looking at pictures of your loved one, playing music he liked, or writing your feelings about him. When I read that, I understood then what I had been doing all that week. It really helped to have that validation. My sister told me that in the Old Testament grieving was a form of worship to God. Along with weeping and tearing their clothes, at a funeral they would even hire professional wailers.

Week 5

This week, I still played music that reminded me of Andrew. Some healing must have taken place, though, because the past few days it hasn't made me cry anymore. I just like to hear it, think of him, and feel just fine.

I think about heaven all the time now, because that is where my love is, wondering what it is like there. Heaven is the intermediary state where we are spirit, awaiting Christ's return to earth when we shall all rise again with new bodies. I feel like I love Andrew even more now, because he is literally perfect now. He is literally without sin and that is how I think about him when I think about where he is now.

Having your marriage cut short so unexpectedly from what you had always assumed and witnessing your husband's life cut short forces you to see that there is only a veil between you and eternity. Life is so short, whether you die young or you have many more years. I will see Andrew soon. I know it. Maybe not Tuesday, but some Tuesday, some day after a breath of a life. And so it makes me return to my old feelings about life, before I had married and my devotion to the Lord was undivided ("But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her husband." - 1Cor. 7:34). That my hope cannot be in this world or this life or wasting it on a pursuit of comfort that always evades you anyway and never satisfies. Nothing is worth living for except for Christ. So if life is hard or painful, just submit to God, and let Him use those things to make you more like Him, because that is the only thing He is after - making you into His image for His own glory.

The significance of Andrew's life

Many of you have expressed how Andrew's life was inspirational. I imagine he would love for you to hear the 2nd message delivered eight days after his death and the dangers that come with finding Andrew's life inspirational:
Listen Online
Download (10.77MB)

Prayer Requests

- that I would live for Christ alone and allow Him to mold me into His image rather than resist even the everyday little trials
- that I would seek my satisfaction in Christ alone
- that I would be consistent with the children, firm, yet patient. God has called me to the impossible task of being a single mom to these children to teach them about Christ faithfully. But I think the fact that it is impossible is the point. Christ is always calling us to the impossible, which is why I cannot rely on myself but only on God with Whom nothing is impossible.

Andrew's Letters 2-4

2009-03-04T17:01:00.004-06:00

This week has probably been the hardest so far, as Monday I discovered some pictures from when Andrew and I and a friend went to Joshua Tree two days after Andrew and I were engaged. I would do anything to have Andrew back.

A.J. loves for me to read Andrew's letters to him and Gracie before bed. I haven't had a chance to post Andrew's letters from Days 2 through 4. They were short, so I'll post them all together:

Day 2

Dear Beloved,

I love you so much. Stay strong and be courageous. May Christ satisfy you today.

Ps 31:10-12
Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me; O LORD, be my helper.
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.

Love,
Me

P.S. XxooXoxXXoooXxxXox

Day 3

Dear Lover,

Just a quick note to tell you that I love you and that I'm not in pain anymore. Remember to rejoice in all things today. By the way, you're beautiful.

"Rejoice in the Lord, again I will say rejoice. "

The Lord will lead you just as He did the Israelites through the wilderness. Ex 13:21 "The LORD was going before them in a pillar of cloud by day to lead them on the way, and in a pillar of fire by night to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night."

Day 4

Dear Grace,

I love you so much. I wish I could be there with you to know how you are doing. I trust that God is upholding you and others through this time. Be strong and courageous. The Lord will lead you to victory. Remember my favorite song?

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be ’til I die.

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.

Your best friend,

Andrew

Andrew's Two Week Letter

2009-02-26T19:50:00.003-06:00

Sorry for the reticence. I haven't had a computer this week. The Lord continues to sustain and comfort me. Andrew's letters get me re-focused whenever I start to fall off kilter. I will post when I have a chance. For now, here is Andrew's 2 Week letter:

2 Weeks

Dearest Beloved,

I love you. Remember that time when we went hiking in the mountains before going to the Clark’s house for dinner? That was like our second or third day dating. You must have been so happy that you didn’t realize that you were hopping and skipping along on slush and ice on the edge of a steep hill that dropped almost straight down. The path was only about 1.5 feet wide, but you didn’t care. You were practically in heaven. I was actually quite impressed with you that day because you seemed fearless and confident with each step you took. The Lord kept us safe that day, gave us a wonderful date, and even provided somebody to jumpstart my car just as it was getting dark. The Lord always takes care of us doesn't He? I want you to be fearless like you were on that date in the mountains. Don't look down, just keep your eyes focused on what's just ahead and you'll do just fine.

I’m not here to lead you, anchor you, and balance you in person anymore. But since you know me so well, step back and think about how we would work as a team in each tough situation you find yourself in. Be affectionate with the kids and remember to keep pointing them to God. If they seem to get out of control more since I'm not around anymore as the authority figure you will have to step in and take my place as the highest human authority in our home. Also, remember that they need clear boundaries more than ever before.

Your Kindness

2009-02-20T11:05:00.004-06:00

I wanted to thank all of you for the comfort and encouragement you all have been to me, as well as to Andrew when he was still living, through all your notes, comments, physical help, the list is endless. I can't express how much strength I draw from all of your encouragement.

Thank you so much also to the many of you who felt compelled to give to A.J. and Gracie's fund. Many of you have been asking for more information on the fund. I met with some of the elders from the church last night, and we are still in discussion about what kind of fund we are going to set up. Perhaps something like a trust that they could use for college or something in the future. It still appears that checks are coming in, so our decision is largely going to depend on how much they total in the end. Many of you have expressed an interest in still giving to the fund, so here is the information.

Please make checks out to:
Redeemer Bible Church
Please put "A.J. and Gracie's fund" in the memo line
16205 Hwy 7
Minnetonka, MN 55345

Also, it is going to take a few weeks to get the video recording of Andrew's memorial service up. I really loved it and I hope we can share it with you, since it included some of Andrew's favorite songs. In the mean time, the audio from Andrew's memorial service is available here:
Part 1 - Invocation
Part 2 - Phillippians 1:12-21
Part 3 - Letter from the Doctor
Part 4 - Personal Remembrances
Part 5 - Personal Remembrances
Part 6 - Personal Remembrances
Part 7 - Personal Remembrances
Part 8 - A Letter from Andrew
Part 9 - Romans 8:28-39
Part 10 - Ministry of the Word
Part 11 - Benediction

Home

2009-02-16T17:49:00.010-06:00

Pipers

At church yesterday, the last song we sang at church was about heaven. I pictured Andrew in heaven singing something akin to what we were singing. This made me weep. My sister tapped me on the back after the song ended and introduced me to Noel Piper. John and Noel Piper happened to be visiting our church for the first time, since Dr. Piper is on writing leave from his church and Minneapolis is only a half-hour from us. I did not know at all that they were at the church and was very shocked to be meeting her. All I could do was blubber. The Pipers had eaten dinner with my sister and brother-in-law for the first time at our house while we were in California back in November, because my sister's kitchen was being remodeled. Noel thanked me for that and said that at least in that small way they had a connection to Andrew. I simply wept and blubbered, "No, thank you for eating in my house."

A few minutes later, after I had composed myself, I shook hands with John Piper for the first time. I told him how during Andrew's last months we had listened to his sermons on Job and suffering repeatedly and how it had greatly helped and ministered to us. I said how Andrew would have considered it a great honor to meet him right then because of how Piper had impacted his life, since Andrew had a collection of his sermons that he had listened to over the years.

Later, when I told my brother-in-law about my encounter with Piper, I said, "I'm not going to feel bad, though, that Andrew missed out on that, because he's meeting with Someone way better right now."

The first week without him

Andrew was right in the letter I last posted ("Day 1") that God would give me strength I never dreamed of when he left us. I never knew it was possible to truly rejoice that your beloved was in the presence of Jesus, while mourning at the same time, for even that rejoicing to supercede your mourning.

Even though I fought his death tooth and nail, when we were finally in the hospital, the truth that the number of his days had been written before time was so real to me and such a comfort to me. I know that all the peace and thankfulness for the time I had had with Andrew was totally supernatural and not of myself.

In the following days, I was surrounded by Andrew's family as well as mine and all our relatives. I'm so thankful to all our relatives who came out to be with us during that time. It was such a comfort to me to see everyone.

Andrew's brother and sister and parents were staying in our house. As we stayed up late working on Andrew's slideshow and putting together collages of his pictures, it felt so good to look at hundreds of pictures of Andrew when he was still healthy and cancer had not yet invaded our lives. It was so fun to be able to say whatever flew into my head at the moment, while I still was processing my feelings. I'd exclaim, "I love Andrew so much!" and have someone to hear me say it. Or I'd say, "Andrew is so handsome!" and Andrew's sister's husband would say, "Yeah, he's a stud."

We still talked so much about Andrew and in the present tense, his pictures so clear and vivid, it felt like he had never left and that maybe he was just resting in his room, as he always was in recent months.

On the Wednesday evening of Andrew's memorial service as all our relatives were at our house for dinner, I began to feel anxious about what I was going to do after the mass exodus of all our relatives that evening. It was Day 5, so I read his letter for that day:

Dear Grace,

Don't fear the future. Just take it one day at a time. One foot in front of the other. Keep the big picture of God's glory in mind. Continue to serve Him by being faithful in the little things. Faithful with your time and energy. Smile at the future, the best is yet to come!

"Prov 31:25 Strength and dignity are her clothing And she smiles at the future."

Let me pray with you...Dear Lord, I thank you so much for Grace and the kids. Thank you that we got to have each other for as long we we did. Thank you for your hand which has upheld our family through thick and thin. Thank you that you will never leave us or forsake us. Thank you that you love us so much and want us to know Christ so intimately that you would take me home a little sooner than others. We beg of you to take care of this family and be a father and a husband to them. I pray that they would know your closeness in times of loneliness, and that they would run to you for their satisfaction rather than other people, movies, Internet or other things. Please help Grace to be able to handle leading this home without me. Help her to learn and do the jobs that I used to do. Please make it easy and fun for her. Please bring joy and laughter into this home, and turn their mourning to dancing. Amen.

Love you.

Week two without him

Andrew's mom and my mom are still here. As everyone else has left, each day has felt a little lonelier. Last night I dreamed about Andrew for the first time. He was dressed up a little bit wearing a blue button-down shirt of his that I liked and black pants. He was standing up tall and straight, his old weight, not skinny, like he used to in his healthy pictures. We were in Target together shopping for new bedsheets, but they told us they didn't sell them. I wondered around the store feeling so confused, swearing that they always had sold them in the past. I hugged him and told him I missed him. I thought someone else had died, then realized that he had never been healed of cancer, so he would have to die anyway. The new bedsheets were to replace the ones that had been stained and destroyed when he had his first bleed.

I woke up having to reassure myself that the last six years was not a dream and that what we had was real. A.J. woke up next to me screaming. I comforted him and said, uncertain why he was even crying, "You know that Papa loves you so much, right?"

He said, "No."

I said, "Yes, he does."

He said, "No, but I don't know that he does."

I continued to reassure him. Somehow A.J. often seems to say out loud what I'm thinking too. I had to whisper to myself that indeed Andrew did love me, even though I wasn't feeling like it.

I went to small group last night and was reminded again how Andrew's suffering and death truly has affected people, which emphasizes for me that this had been the Lord's plan all along and brings me joy. As the days go on and I forget how much Andrew suffered and instead stare at pictures of when he was perfect and healthy, it begins to hurt more that he is gone and the relief that he is no longer in pain is lost. When the reality of how much his suffering and death has impacted people does not confront me as loudly, my joy also dissipates and grief replaces it.

I think it was Jonathan Edwards who described his marriage with Sarah as an "uncommon union." Even though our marriage was far from perfect (mostly because of me) that's what I think of what Andrew and I had (mostly because of him). I felt so accepted and cherished by Andrew.

When I met him in the fall of 2001, seeing him felt like coming home for the first time (even though I didn't even know him and he was completely unaware of it). When I consider living in our home without the very one who made it home, I am perplexed. But then I remember what he said, "Just take it one day at a time." And I remember how God sustained me that first week and continues to shield me from overwhelming grief. That it hasn't been nearly as bad as I had imagined it would be. And as Piper always says, if God has always proven faithful, then we can be reassured that He will continue to be faithful.

Letters

2009-02-14T20:40:00.003-06:00

Andrew wrote letters for me to read the first five days after he left us, as well as at 2 weeks, 2 months, and for the watershed moments for mine and the kids lives. I read one tonight to the kids. I thought I would share them also with you.

Day 1

My beloved,

Rejoice because God’s mercies are new every morning. Rejoice because I’m not in pain anymore. Rejoice because God is faithful and will never leave you or forsake you.

I believe that right now God is going to give you strength you never dreamed of. Our God will not only comfort you, He will lead you and take care of you like a father does.

I know there are many things that need to be done. Don’t feel overwhelmed, just take it one moment at a time. Perhaps you might return to a normal routine as soon as possible with the kids and take a portion of your day such as nap time to take care of some of these things. God has been growing you so much with not being overwhelmed. I trust that you will be able to mentally and emotionally put one foot in front of the other. Stay strong. What would Andrew do right now? I would be steady, stable and strong. I see that strength and steadiness coming through in you as you've had to trust more and more in the Lord during these difficult times. I love you.

You could sleep in the same room with the kids and enjoy them. Don't let them mourn. Let them just be happy to know that papa doesn’t have cancer anymore. God answered their prayers from then they were just 2.5 and 3.5. AJ said that he didn't want Papa to have cancer anymore. I would love to see them run around saying "Papa doesn't have owies anymore. Papa doesn't have cancer anymore. He is with Jesus!".

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."

Oh yeah, and don't forget to eat!

Love you!

-Your Beloved

Funeral/Blog Letter after Passing

2009-02-12T20:53:00.002-06:00

A brisk fall afternoon, the bright red and yellow leaves are falling from the trees at Round Lake Park, the sun is shining, I can feel the cool fresh air entering my lungs with every breath. I smell garlic and homemade Italian food in the wind. For you maybe it's a spring day and the flowers are blooming, or it's Christmas and the snow is falling and you are sitting with a warm mug of coffee by the fire. It's at those seemingly perfect moments that you know this all didn't happen by chance. It is not by chance that the leaves turn red in the fall, and it is not by chance that I'm not standing here reading this letter to you now.

After all the suffering I have seen thus far, there are only two things that I know are true. That I love my wife and kids so much, and that God loves me infinitely more than that. Thank you, thank you, thank you, to all who have loved, served, and prayed for us. I am so very sorry to leave you all behind, but at the same time I am so happy to be home with my Maker. Everything that I love about the fall and the leaves and the fresh air and Italian cooking in the wind, pales in comparison with what it is like in the presence of Jesus. I have not eaten in a very long time, but know that I hunger no more. There is no more pain or suffering, no more tears or sorrow.

Grace, AJ, and Gracie, know that God holds you in the palm of His hand especiallly now. Jesus will lead, guide, and protect you. I am confident that your mourning will turn to dancing.

Fight for joy in this. Rejoice because cancer can kill my body but it cannot kill my soul. Rejoice because my greatest sickness was cured in 2001 at the age of 20 when I believed that Jesus could forgive such great sins as mine. Rejoice because even through sickness and death God has done great things in my life, and yours. Rejoice because this is not the end, it is just the beginning.

Rejoice! Again I say rejoice!

I will see many of you soon.

Andrew W. Mark

Beloved's Suffering and Death Has Gone National

2009-02-12T00:09:00.004-06:00

Wow. You can download today's national broadcast about Andrew's death on Way of the Master with Todd Friel here: http://www.wretchedradio.com/podcast.cfm?pid=194.

Way of the Master

2009-02-11T01:13:00.007-06:00

Pastor Bob's message from Sunday will be broadcast nationally TODAY on the Way of the Master radio program from 2 - 4 pm central time. Please feel free to invite friends & family to listen. Listen on the web or find your local station on their website: Way of the Master

Please pray that at the memorial service this morning, that Bob would preach the gospel with clarity and power and that the Holy Spirit would convict hearts. Please also pray that the impact of the message on the radio this afternoon would reach far and wide.

Memorial Service

2009-02-10T16:49:00.005-06:00

The memorial service for Andrew will be streamed live on our church's website, www.redeemerbiblechurch.com tomorrow at 10 am central time.

***For those trying to tune-in, its available now! (10:35 central)

Message from Sunday

2009-02-09T16:44:00.002-06:00

The message from Sunday's service is now available online (streaming or download). Its called "Reflections on the Suffering and Death of a 27 Year-Old Man" and can be found here: Solid Food.

Sunday Church Service

2009-02-07T23:28:00.005-06:00

Sunday church service tomorrow, February 8th, at our church has been changed to be about Andrew and all that has happened the past few days. If you go to our church's website, www.redeemerbiblechurch.com at 8:30am Central Time or 10:30am Central Time, you can listen to the entire service streamed live. The link to the live services only comes during that period of time, though, so you won't find the link if you look ahead of time.

Hope you can listen.

Love,
Grace

With Our Savior

2009-02-07T13:27:00.015-06:00

Andrew is now in the presence of Jesus. We praise the Lord that He called Andrew to be His and that Andrew is now rejoicing before the throne of grace without pain or suffering. He went at 12:35pm Central time. All his family was around him to hold his hand as he went peacefully.

Please continue to pray for AJ and Gracie, his mom and dad, his brother and sister, and me that the peace of Christ would continue to be a comfort to us.

More details on the funeral will be forthcoming. We would love for whomever can make it to be there. The viewings will be on Tuesday at Washburn-Mcreavy Funeral Home in Eden Prairie and the memorial service on Wednesday at Redeemer Bible Church in Minnetonka, MN.

Details for airline bereavement rates are to follow.

Also in lieu of flowers, a fund will be set up for AJ and Gracie. More details on that to come as well, but if you are interested in contributing, please email fundforajandgracie@gmail.com and details will be sent to you when they are available.

Thank you all for praying and for your encouraging remarks and for continuing to lift us up in your prayers.

Washburn-Mcreavy Funeral Home
Eden Prairie
7625 Mitchell Road
Eden Prairie, MN 55344
(952)975-0400

Redeemer Bible Church
16205 Highway 7
Minnetonka, MN 55345
(952) 935-2425

A Gift

2009-02-06T09:35:00.004-06:00

GRACE WRITES:

Andrew is still here. Perhaps he is waiting for his sister to arrive, who has been driving with her husband through the night from New Jersey. They should be here in less than an hour.

Even though his eyes have been closed the whole time, he usually is not sedated, so he seems to hear what we are saying to him. I think he has terrible bleeds when he gets emotional, then begins to hyperventilate, and then we sedate him. Please pray that would not happen when his sister arrives or ever again. It is really terrible that he has to suffer during those moments, and I don't think I can take another bleed. But what has kept coming to mind in those moments is that he looks like Jesus to me as he suffers. And I feel reassured that his suffering is not inconsistent with him being favored by God, because Jesus preceded Andrew in all his suffering. Jesus blazed the trail of suffering and went before us so that we could follow in His footsteps.

Thank you all so much for your prayers and words of encouragement. I am sorry that you all have to cry for him. Please pray that I would be ready for what is to come and that his family would be too.

I love him more than ever now. These 24 hours, everything reminds me of memories with him. Even the faded memories are vivid now. It is like our time together is flashing before my eyes over several hours, the way they say your life flashes before your eyes in the instant before you die. And yet, somehow, the Lord has shielded me from the grief that could completely overwhelm. I am so fearful of future grief, fearful that it will strangle me. But so far it has not come yet.

Andrew had said to me recently that we could be thankful at least for the time we did have together. I said I wanted more time and it wasn't enough. But as it all flashes before me, I just feel so thankful. So priveleged to have loved so deeply and to be loved by someone so extraordinary that he could love me in spite of all my sin and despite how unworthy I was of him. He was such a picture of the gospel to me and taught me so much about Jesus' gospel love through the way he loved me. When we fell in love, I thought we might be the happiest people on earth. That is a gift. And I'm thankful to have ever tasted of it.

Update

2009-02-05T18:38:00.001-06:00

Just got an update from Grace via txt. She says Andrew hasn't gone yet, but is on high doses of morphine and has not been conscious since the last text (which was at 3:30 am). His brother has just arrived. It should be any time now. She asks for prayer that he is physically comfortable in his final hours here.

Thank you all for your prayers. I have relayed to Grace that an enormous amount of people are praying and pouring out their concern and expressions of love via email and here on the blog. I don't think she's been checking emails or been on the blog yet today, but I myself have been encouraged by the comments shared and I know that Grace and family will appreciate reading them when they get to it.

Please continue to pray for divine comfort and strength for Grace and their family and for continued peace.

If you haven't had the chance to read any entries below yet, I encourage you to at least read Grace's last post so you can read her own words on how best to pray for her and hopefully you will also be encouraged by her courage and faith.

I will continue to post updates as I hear from Grace.

For HIS glory,

Georgia Lee

PLEASE PRAY

2009-02-05T05:33:00.002-06:00

Hi everyone, this is Grace's friend Georgia writing.

I got a call from Grace at 1:30 am pacific time this morning from an ambulance on the way to the hospital. She asked me to spread the word to pray. Andrew had a major bleed which the doctors said would happen (see post on blog from 1/24). Pray that the Lord would continue to sustain Andrew's life and if it is in His will that He would show His glory through a miraculous healing. Pray that the Lord would give Grace strength and peace, and also the same for the family surrounding them right now. And pray for wisdom and clarity of mind for the doctors.

The paragraph above was from emails that went out at 1:30. It is now 3:30 am and my heart is heavy as I write this post and I just got a text from Grace saying that Andrew will be going soon. Please continue to pray for everything above, but with this new information in mind pray especially for comfort, strength and peace for Grace & family.

Refuge

2009-01-31T21:43:00.006-06:00

GRACE WRITES:

Andrew is still here. We got a hospital-grade humidifier with a mask with an oxygen machine earlier this week, and he discovered that some of what was exacerbating his breathing problems was dried mucous. A cold has been going through our household and it's likely that Andrew got it too, but it wasn't obvious because his pain medications covered a lot of the symptoms. Before this discovery, it seemed like Andrew's breathing was getting exponentially worse each day and I wasn't even sure if he would make it to the end of the week. For that reason, Andrew's parents are now with us again. He says he still feels tumors causing swelling in his throat, but it's not increasing in size as rapidly every day as I had feared. Every day I wake up, look over, and see that he's still alive. I consider him living each day on a miracle now. Each breath breathed into him by God. But I suppose that's the reality that each of us live on every day of our lives, we just take it for granted.

So far, he has not gotten a trache put into his throat yet. We had figured that since his oxygen levels were still at a %100 and that his breathing had improved since getting the humidifier, he didn't feel ready yet to get the trache. There is the risk that he won't even make it through the surgery or that even if he does, will it even give him more time with all the trauma it will cause in exchange for the breaths, and will the pain be so unmanageable that he will be sedated to the point of it being like he's already left? Please continue to pray for wisdom for us, as he may still get the trache put in this Wednesday.

Please also continue to pray that Andrew (and the rest of us) will get good rest at night. He wakes often due to coughing, discomfort, etc. I spend most of the day in the room with him as he rests, feeding him his juices and the countless things that need to be done for him, trying to comfort him, and just be with my love. Grace Lindeman continues to make his 9 fresh juices, food, and various things. We continue to do the therapy.

My sister and Sam Jay took the kids a lot during the day each week. And now that Andrew's parents are here, they watch the kids. I miss the kids a lot, but at least I get to see them when I leave the room. By the way, my eczema has been clearing up, but please continue to pray that it will heal.

I can't explain the peace that God has given me through this time. I feel very literally as if His peace is guarding my heart. There are, of course, periods of crying when I think of my love being gone. The disappointment. How our recent 5 year anniversary seems to mean that we are practically newlyweds. Our hopes had been that we would spend the rest of our lives together. I had thought that knowing who you would spend the rest of your life with would seem scary and final, but found that the idea of spending my life with Andrew made me smile and feel relieved and excited. We had thought that our lives would be beautiful no matter what adventure life brought us, because we were together. Eventually, I pictured years down the road, a full, loud house teeming with kids, overflowing out onto the yard, the kids screaming as they played tag. I cry when I pause past our wedding pictures in the living room because they remind me of those hopes. We looked so happy and hopeful that day. It almost seems like we were fools from this vantage. Yet, those feelings of sadness, as pure as they feel, the pure feeling of sadness unmixed with other feelings, do not feel like despair. I cry and then when I'm done, I feel fine again. I know there is no other explanation except that the Lord is sustaining me with incredible peace that only comes at desperate times like these, where all else falls away, and all there can be is Jesus.

Don't think that I have spent the last almost year of this trial in peace like this. Trust me, there are times where I spent long periods walking in my flesh and not trusting the Lord, so deep in my flesh, I didn't even know it. I believe my peace now is due to all of you praying like crazy for me and and also that in unique times, times of emergencies, I believe God gives special grace to wives. It is His grace, definitely not something I have labored for.

I remember when Erik Greene from our church in Washington unexpectedly was rushed to the ER and was not expected to make it through the night. They did not know what had happened to him, except that he was not going to live. I could hardly think about Andrew who was about to go into his first cancer surgery January of '07, his surgery paling in comparison to Erik's situation. I was horrified at the idea of Erik leaving his wife and four children. I wept for three days pleading with the Lord for his healing. Erik survived the first night and spent the next few weeks in a coma. Despite the doctor telling his wife to unplug him after a few weeks, she continued to have unmovable hope. When I saw her, I couldn't believe the peace she had. Not only did Erik wake up from his coma, he's doing great today.

And so, I believe God has a special place for wives that are His, while those observing help carry the burden by taking the role of weeping and praying and maybe even having to suffer more grief than that of the wife for that time. So please keep praying for me, because the Lord is answering. I can feel you are praying for me, because this is definitely not of me.

Though Andrew's suffering is more than most anyone will suffer in their lifetime, and it may not feel or look like it, we all must continue to believe that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and that it is all for His glory (Romans 8). We must ask God to give us the faith to believe that. We can pour out our frustrations and griefs and questions honestly to Him, because they are no secret to Him, and only He can change our hearts.

"Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge." Psalm 62:7-9

Please continue to pray
- for REST at night especially for Andrew, but for all of us too
- that Andrew will be able to breathe easily and not need the trache. For wisdom whether to get it or not
- that the peace of Christ would guard our hearts, as well as his parents' hearts
- for a miraculous escape from death
- that our suffering would result in us knowing Christ more intimately (Phil. 3).

A rock and a hard place...

2009-01-24T02:12:00.011-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

We made it back safely from California last week and it was so great to be home. Everything went just as planned and we arrived home Friday night/Saturday morning a little before 1AM.

On Saturday we got things started with the Gerson Therapy and by early this week we were pretty much settled back into life in MN. I almost feel like we've been here all winter.

On Saturday we had a short open house for people to welcome us back and it was so encouraging and wonderful to see people again. I didn't miss the weather, but I missed the people so much and I was so happy to see everybody.

We've been so well taken care of since returning between our church and neighbors helping out and Grace L. from Canada doing much of the leg work for the Gerson Therapy for us. We also have a high school teenager from the neighborhood come several times per week to relieve Grace L. so she can get a break from the non-stop work.

The first few days this week I was totally exhausted from our trip home and spent 2-3 days straight in bed. By Tuesday I was feeling a little better and Wednesday I was good enough to get out and pay a visit to Dr. Yueh. I had been in contact with Dr. Yueh over the past several weeks regarding my breathing and the wound in my neck. I sent him pictures and he told me how to dress the wound while I was in California.

We knew this visit wasn't going to be a positive, exciting, happy one, so we asked Jason D. to come along for moral support and so we could have another person there to help us process the information they give us.

Basically Dr. Yueh's opinion is that given my difficulty breathing and the huge deep hole in my neck (click to see photo) which keeps getting bigger, my demise will likely occur one of two ways.

Either my breathing will continue to get worse until I gradually get to the point of suffocation, or the tumor invades the carotid artery, bursts it open and I bleed to death on the spot through the hole in my neck. To be honest, I was really hoping for something a little more pleasant but I guess that's not how the Lord has chosen for my cancer to progress.

Immediately after Dr. Yueh said that images started coming into my mind of me alone in my bedroom laying on my bed bleeding or suffocating to death. A look of despair in my eyes, arms flailing hoping to grab my wife's familiar hand, but nobody is there to comfort me. That would be a very sad situation, please pray that would not happen to me. If the Lord would have one of these things happen to me I would at least want Grace to be there to hold my hand as I go.

Since I'm already having trouble breathing suffocation is really a possibility and might not be that far away. To avoid suffocation I could have a tracheotomy which would place a hole below my Adam's apple with a metal tube that extends down my trachea a few inches to bypass the area where the tumors are pressing on my airway. I had this for about a month when I had my surgery in March.

It seems like this would be the right thing to do, but I'm extremely hesitant to do it because of the effect it would have on my quality of life. The hole in my neck extends to the spot where the trache tube would be placed, and that is the most painful part of the wound. When I change my dressing on my neck every day, even with all the pain medications I'm on, touching that spot will bring me to my knees wincing in pain. So the thought of placing a metal tube through that spot with a 1 inch square plate stabilizing it and rubbing my wound 24/7 just makes me shiver just thinking about it. Of course the doctors say that they could just give me more pain meds, but even if that did work, which is unlikely, I'll need so much that I'll be sedated most of the time. In addition, even if you cover the opening of the tube, there is still some air leakage around the hole in my neck so I might not be able to clear my throat well which will cause me to gag on my own saliva, and I may not be able to whisper anymore which my main form of communication right now. My gut feeling is also telling me that since my body rarely responds to invasive procedures and treatments the way doctors say that most patients typically respond (remember the 3 additional corrective surgeries in March, my jaw that never healed, prolonged pain and difficulties with my PEG tube and right leg skin graft site, and now the open wound on my neck), that this just isn't a good idea. Lastly, this is totally not as important and you might think I'm crazy for saying this, but it would be nice to preserve a little dignity during my last days on this earth. So these are all the reasons I could say no to a decision that seems like it should be an obvious yes on the surface. In fact, I really wish it was an obvious yes.

So I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Please please please pray for wisdom what I should do. Dr. Yueh is not at all pressuring me one way or another, but he wants me to make a decision by early next week so I can have the procedure done before the tumors make it too difficult to place the trache. Some nights I wake up every 30 minutes gasping for air because mucus has dried up in my airway and makes it difficult to breath. Other nights I breath easily and I'm not worried about suffocation at all. So its really hard to know just how urgent it is for me to do the tracheotomy. I know a lot of my reservations about the tracheotomy are fears and anxieties about discomfort and pain and God can take care of all of that. But I still just don't know if that is the right thing to do. All the docs thought a second course of radiation was the right thing to do, but it turned out that it didn't work and caused huge complications including possibly being one of the biggest contributing factors behind this wound in my neck. We've done everything the doctors said we should do, but it typically doesn't work out the way we were expecting. So, I feel very uneasy about this decision. Please pray for wisdom and that God would make it undeniably clear which direction to go and that I would not regret or complain.

As I mentioned some nights I wake up gasping for air, usually because I had a bad dream that caused my heart and breathing rate to increase. Tonight my dream ended with AJ and Gracie sitting on some sort of bench at a park looking longingly at the playground area but they had to finish their food before they could go play. So I guess they scarfed down their food and took off running towards the slides then another boy sitting right next to them jumped up off the bench and took off after them in nothing but a diaper. Yup, a toddling baby boy! I woke up tonight happy from this dream, not gasping for air, and decided to write a blog. I'm not superstitious or anything like that, but I can pray that my dreams come true.

Please Pray:

1) For wisdom about whether or not to do a tracheotomy. That I would seek God's glory in the decision rather than personal comfort.

2) That my wound in my neck and my breathing would get better and not worse.

3) For complete healing and pain relief.

4) That I would not be anxious about all the things that I need to do but can't do because I have little energy.

5) That I would see this as an opportunity to be to learn humility as one who is helpless than be frustrated about my disabilities. I can't drive, lift anything heavy or even make my own phone calls.

6) For Grace, my wife, and Grace L. that God would sustain them as they take care of me and the kids. There is a little bit of a cold just starting to go around our household, Gracie and Grace M. got it, so pray that the rest of us won't get it.

7) That I would really be able to continue to have lots of time with my wife and kids and that I would use it wisely. Pray that God would provide enough help during these times so that we can be free to spend more time together. It just seems like it doctors appointments and phone calls and medications, and wound dressings and all sorts of distractions so we passing by each other but unfocused. Tomorrow we're going to try setting a block of time each afternoon for Grace and I. Pray that other things wouldn't crowd into it.

8) That God would provide an alternative speech device SOON so that I can begin communicating more easily with others and especially my kids. My kids are really good at picking up my slurred whispers, but they can't read yet so they miss out on a lot. I can't simply sit with them with a pad of paper and converse with them.

Pain in the Neck

2009-01-15T00:52:00.006-06:00

GRACE WRITES:

Andrew hasn't been feeling well, so he hasn't been able to blog. So sorry for keeping all of you in such suspense.

Since Andrew's previous blog, Andrew's parents, brother, sister, and her husband were able to come out for the holidays and stay with us at the treatment center. The Stillings here at the treatment center let us have the whole place to ourselves, while they continued to perform the treatment for us. It was such a blessing and provision from God. Andrew was so happy to spend that time with his family. Andrew's voice slowly gave out while his family was here, but was at least understandable to me and the kids, so that I could interpret for him, if his family couldn't understand. Now, he can only whisper, and it is hard even for me to understand.

As soon as Andrew's family left, he became completely exhausted and spent most of the next eight days asleep in bed. Part of that was from him quickly increasing his narcotics dosages, especially the fentenyl, and part of it was just exhaustion from him being so active with his family. I have never seen him this exhausted before. I am so thankful that I can give him his juices and meals through his tube, because he truly could not have been awake enough to eat it himself if he had to do it through his mouth. Since Monday, he gradually has had a little more energy to get up during the day to at least go outside and take a nap, or nap in the living room.

Andrew has not been feeling well. He feels it is best for us to go home now. He was doing so well, but then a giant hole opened up in his neck towards the end of December, and has flung him back onto pain, narcotics, and misery. We are actually returning to MN on this Friday, via San Diego Airport (only direct flight on Sun Country Airlines available for that date). A couple from our church will drive the RV back.

Andrew says: "I'm in tons of pain and soreness which continues to slowly get worse. The pain meds unfortunately don't work that well for this type of pain. The best I can describe it is it's like my nerves ache from the inside and the pain meds numb the outside. So it's like this deep set pain in the core of my muscles and bones that I cant get rid of."

I do not know which will win out - the Gerson therapy or over-radiation, which is likely the main cause of his neck falling apart. The Gerson Therapy is most successful on people who have never done conventional treatments. So far, all of the patients that we have met over the past two months have never done radiation or chemotherapy.

Andrew says he feels like he is at a crossroads. Either this is the "getting worse before the getting better" part that Dr. Stillings kept warning about or this is the decline.

Dr. Stillings thinks that Andrew's analysis makes sense, and he continues not to give us false guarantees, but at the same time he still thinks that this all could very well be his body gearing up and fighting the tumors with all its got. He's always an encouragement to us, and helps us to keep on fighting day after day.

Dr. Stillings thinks the hole in Andrew's neck is the body's natural way of debriding the skin that does not have enough blood circulation from all the radiation, and that the hole will stop getting bigger once it hits viable skin. The hole opened up real fast in a week and a half. Since then, it has slowly gotten a little bigger. It is now about the size of his thumb in all three dimensions. It's awful, and I can't imagine how a person can be alive with a huge hole in his body, let alone in his neck.

I am praying that the Lord would provide a way to do hyperbaric oxygen therapy, what they use for burn victims and diabetics, who get huge holes in their bodies. There is research that shows that cancer cannot survive in an hyper-oxygenated environment. So in fact, hyperbaric oxygen is great for cancer patients in general. Some doctors, however think that stimulating blood vessel growth and circulation could cause the cancer to grow faster but in Andrew's case I think dealing with this horrific wound is worth that risk. I have been looking for alternative treatment centers that do hyperbaric oxygen in the Minneapolis area, as it is unlikely that a medical doctor will allow it for a cancer patient, but Google searches are never successful for me.

The narcotics, which tend to shut down autonomic functions and the swelling from tumors or the wound in his neck, causes andrew to wake up gasping for air at night. He does fine when he's sitting up, but if he's reclined at all, it bothers him. But he says he can't sleep sitting up because he gags on his own saliva. So sleep has been really hard for him.

As for me, my eczema has flared up 50 times worse than ever before in my life. It's possible that my body is doing the getting worse before it gets better thing that they say happens in holistic medicine, as I have been doing the Gerson diet with Andrew, only with less juices, or simply it's related to stress. I imagine it may be both. If one could die of eczema, I sometimes feel like it could be me. PLEASE pray that the Lord would relieve me of my leprosy.

At night is when I often have a sudden flare up into misery where my skin feels like it is on fire and I wish I could unzipper my skin and jump out of it. Medicines and creams that I had from my dermatologist that used to work are completely useless now. I drink over a gallon of liquid a day, and yet still, I wake up looking like I've been stranded in the desert. My skin soaks up lotion like I never put layer upon layer upon layer on. Sometimes, the lotion makes my skin even more itchy and I just want to leave it alone and not touch it. It's not food allergies, because I've already been tested for them, and I had been on this diet for over a month before this ever started.

My only relief has been to flee out into the night, taking A.J. with me as my protector, and to cry out loud to God. It's a quiet neighborhood, and so far no one has been outside to hear me. I pour out all my frustrations to God about everything and to rescue me from my skin. Between that, the cool air, heavy breathing, and the distractions of the cozy lights of the houses, by the time we return home, the burning has relented.

Waking when Andrew wakes and waking up due to my eczema throughout the night, sleep is extremely interrupted for the both of us.

The kids are the same as always. Going with the flow, playing together, and our consistent source of smiles. 16 year-old Grace Lindeman from Canada, who had helped us for a few weeks over the summer, has come to us again. She arrived at the treatment center last night to learn the therapy and so she can assist us on the flight back. Pray that the flight won't over-exhaust Andrew or be too terrible for him or my skin. Grace will be with us for a month to make all of Andrew's juices, foods, and other therapy-related things, while I try to find someone to hire to do the therapy in the mornings. I already have two teenagers who can do the therapy for us in the afternoons. I'm nervous to return to the icebox of America. Pray none of us get sick, because that could mean pneumonia for Andrew, which could be devastating.

It has been sooooo wonderful to be in California. For the first month it was as if God called a time-out in our cancer trial and we forgot about cancer and had the time of our lives. Andrew was on no pain meds, had energy, and felt great. It was so great to see so many old friends. You brought the old laughter and carefreeness back into our lives for a little bit. We will miss you all so much.

Thank you all for your prayers, concern, and concrete expressions of love.

Please pray for:
1. The hole to heal in Andrew's neck and for his body's healing
2. Pain relief
3. Sleep for the both of us at night
4. Healing of my eczema
5. That we won't get sick in MN

Treatment update

2008-12-23T05:06:00.009-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

We've been back at the treatment center for the last 3 weeks and will remain here at least until the end of December. The last week or so has been a real setback for me. My energy levels have been good, blood work is spot on, appetite is still increasing and my weight is up a few pounds, but my neck is literally falling apart.

Over the past several months I've been developing these very slow growing lumps on the right side of my neck. My doctors didn't know what they were and just left them alone since it was quite obvious that I already had cancer elsewhere in my body. In the past week or two some of those lumps have come to the surface and broken open and are not healing. There is quite a bit of drainage and my oncologist and surgeon in Minnesota don't really know why this is happening. One of the boils started off like a big blister, but after it popped it has grown deeper and wider, and is continuing to grow. I think the area was already quite irritated by tumors deeper in the right thyroid cartilage. I suspect that this is breaking apart so quickly and not healing due to the irritation from tumors combined with the fact that I've had way too much radiation which similarly caused a breakdown in my jaw in August. The radiation compromised the tissue and blood supply so much that things break down very easily and don't heal. In just a few days the wound grew so deep that I could fit the tip of my pinky into it. A few days ago I woke up with much more pain and noticed that it doubled in length and tore open along the scar of my surgical incision. I'd seen some pretty nasty wounds with all that I've been through, and my gut feeling was that this one is big trouble so we went to the ER to get it checked out.

The ER doctor and the wound care specialist on call at the time said that there isn't anything I can do to stop it from progressing at this point. I have a follow up with a wound care specialist next Monday. I wrote an update to our small group last week asking for prayer. At that time the wound was the size of the tip of my pinky. Now, a week later the wound is the size of my pinky, length, depth and height. If I literally took my pinky off my hand I could fit it right into long crater in my neck. I can see muscles in my neck moving around. My knees get weak just looking at it when I clean it.

Please pray that God would heal the wound, heal me of cancer, and relieve some of the pain. I'm back on a decent dose of narcotics to give me some comfort, but the pain breaks through the narcotics every few hours.

Despite this setback in the neck, the rest of my body is holding up ok. Other than being tired from the narcotics, I'm still doing much much better as a whole than I was doing in October when I was on narcotics. So praise God for that. Since the wound in near my voice box I am starting to really lose my voice. I'm not sure if this is from inflamation from the wound, or from cancer taking over things. Despite the pain, I'm amazed that I'm still able to spend lots of quality time with my family from NJ, who came out here to visit for the holidays. I love them so much and I'm so thankful to be together with them. They're even making the sacrifice to eat most of the meals with me here at the treatment center on this special diet!

Please pray:

1) For healing from cancer and from this wound.

2) That I wouldn't continue to be anxious or discouraged about this, that I would just see it as another way to have to trust God through this trial. I'm struggling with fears and anxiety of pain and suffering. I'm also fearful that this will cause my health to spiral down again.

3) That God would relieve my pain and give me rest at night.

Few good bosses...

2008-12-18T13:41:00.006-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

I sent an email yesterday to my old boss, Dave, at Motorola in Seattle to say hello to him. I had been meaning to send him an email for a long time, but I kept getting sidetracked by my health or treatments. Yesterday's email came back undeliverable, which made me wonder, because I know his email address like the back of my hand.

This week I was making plans to return to Minnesota sometime in January rather than stay the whole winter in California. I wanted to take the northern route to pass through Seattle to visit with him.

Dave was a huge help to me as I dealt with my first bout with cancer in 2007, since he himself had gone through cancer treatments a few years earlier. He totally understood what I was going through, and made sure to support me in any way he could. When I returned to work after my first round of treatments in the summer of 2007, I told him that I don't know what is around the corner in life, but I know that moving to Minnesota would be the best place for my family, especially if cancer came back. So he pushed to get me to Minnesota and still be able to keep my job with Motorola.

I was shocked this morning to find out the bad news. His cancer had returned soon after we moved to Minnesota. It turns out that he passed away last month.

When I first interviewed with Dave for a job in his office, I told him that I was going to get married pretty soon. As a good boss he was often thinking about the quality of my personal life, so he said to me, " Then we better fly Grace up here as well for a weekend, because if you're going to be successful, its going to be with the support of your wife."

When I first started working for Dave I was a proud, naive college graduate, but he bore with me and helped me develop despite all my flaws. In the coming years Dave continued to help me flourish as a young man and engineer. He had a profound impact on my life to say the least.

Things I learned from Dave:

1) Don't eat too many Yakima cherries at one time, they're explosive if you know what I mean.

2) Take your your work seriously, not your boss.

3) Work with the utmost integrity. It may not get you a bigger bonus or the next promotion, but its just the right thing to do.

4) To some work is their life. Dave always taught me that work is a part of life. Enjoy life and you'll enjoy work.

Encouraging

2008-12-03T17:26:00.004-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

Today at the treatment center I met a man that came here a year ago with stage 4 malignant melanoma. He had a huge tumor on his foot and cancer all the way up his leg to his thigh. A year ago they had to help him just to get up and walk to the back patio of the treatment center.

After doing this treatment for a year, he has returned. Doctors' scans show that there is only one little tiny lump in his thigh, and the tumor in his foot has gone completely away. He still limps some because there is non-cancerous dead tissue where the tumor was, but he's having that removed. He was able to take a 1.5 mile hike the other day compared to not being able to walk a year ago.

He hugged me and told me that it is a lot of work, but to stick to the therapy. If you create a good environment for your body to deal with the cancer, it can do it! Seeing his remarkable recovery and his happy spirit encourages me to keep fighting!

Please keep praying for neck and back pain relief, as that makes it difficult to sleep at night.

Thank you Lord

2008-11-27T23:17:00.015-06:00

ANDREW AND GRACE WRITE:

This year we decided to spend Thanksgiving alone as a family. We got up early and started the normal routine for the Gerson Therapy, which means cooking oatmeal, juice, and starting lunch. We had family worship and then began preparations for a day at the beach.

We ate lunch and dinner at the beach. What I loved about it was having the day centered around the beach rather than a feast. The kids LOVED splashing in the water and playing in the sand. Around this time last year they had their shovels out playing in the snow with their hats, jackets, and gloves. This year it's sand and shirtless =).

My health is holding up still. I tried to get completely off over the counter pain meds (tylenol) but it made me miserable, so I'm going to still use a little bit to keep the sanity. The pain is centered around my neck and right shoulder. Even though I struggle with some pain, overall I'm doing much better than a month ago. I know that the reason I'm feeling better rather than worse is because God is answering your prayers.

Many of you are wondering what our daily routine is like doing the Gerson Therapy. The day starts around 7AM. Grace simmers an organic oatmeal breakfast, squeezes fresh orange juice, and washes whatever vegetables are needed for the day's juices as well as meals. After breakfast, we juice every hour until 6PM. There are 4 green juices and 5 carrot juices in addition to the fresh orange juice for my particular regimen. The green juices contain an assortment of veggies like escarole, chard, green pepper, red cabbage, red lettuce, and rommaine. The carrot juices are usually just carrots, or sometimes carrot and apple. To each juice, we add a specific regimen of supplements like pancreatin (digestive enzymes), potassium, dessicated liver, CoQ10, and Acidoll. The juicing is probably the hardest part because not only do you have to run the juicer every hour so that the juice is fresh and the enzymes don't die, but you also need to purchase and wash and cut an enormous amount of vegetables, then consume it 10 times per day. In addition, the meals are just as time consuming because most things have to be cooked fresh and then pureed for insertion into my tube.

We've had an extraordinary amount of help so far. Last Tuesday Grace had a cutting party. A group of college students who go to Grace on Campus, our old Bible study, helped wash and cut a week's worth of meals, sprayed the insides of the bags with Vitamin C to keep the veggies as fresh as the moment they were cut, and vacuum bagged them. Then Wed, Friday, and Saturday various people came from VOH, a church my friend pastors, to help in the afternoons to tidy up, help prepare dinner, clean veggies and set up for the following day. Many of these people are people we are meeting for the first time. Its almost like a restaurant the amount of stuff that is going on in the kitchen. It turns out the the kitchen in the house we're staying at in Cerritos is twice as big as our kitchen at home in Minnesota, so it actually makes things run much smoother than it might otherwise.

We know the Lord is causing this therapy to keep happening hour after hour, because so far I have gotten all of my 10 juices and all my fresh meals each day since we left the treatment center, despite how it usually takes two weeks to get settled into the therapy after leaving the center. Despite all kinds of obstacles and all the work required, by God's grace, each juice manages to come like clockwork.

Our plan is to return to the treatment center in Redlands for the month of December. It turns out the wonderful family that runs the treatment center are Christians. They saw how much progress I (and Grace too) was making in my health that they invited us back and offered us a great deal. We've been under so much pressure the past several years, that being at the treatment center is such a relief. They will take care of all the meals and juicing for us, while we relax, focus on healing and spend time with the kids. We're planning on staying in the RV with the kids for part of it, and then staying in the treatment center for the rest of the time. Then in January we're praying that the Lord will provide a place to stay and a car for a few months in the West LA area.

Huntington Beach - the weather forecast said cloudy with chance of showers. Guess they were wrong! Grace was smart enough to remember to bring all of our sand toys from Minnesota!

Lunch

The kids love waves and sand

We also got a catch the sunset

Nourishment

2008-11-18T17:48:00.052-06:00

ANDREW AND GRACE WRITE:

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." ~Prov 17:22

God has really blessed Grace and I beyond what we could have imagined the past few weeks. Many have been fervently praying for us and fasting every Wednesday to Thursday and God has been answering. To sum up, the past few weeks has been physical and spiritual nourishment. For the past 8 months my body has been in a downward spiral from surgeries, to radiation and chemo, to pain and narcotics, to infections and pneumonia. Grace just kept begging God specifically for relief and that He would relent from the continual onslaught of difficulty, and the Lord has answered in abundance. Since we have been in California God has broken that downward spiral with these nutritional treatments, education, sunshine, laughter, rest and exercise.

Here is a short list of answered prayers:

1) Praise God that my pain has greatly decreased. I thought it would be impossible to get off narcotics just a few months ago, but now I'm off! In addition, I don't need that much over the counter stuff since I now have learned some effective natural ways of dealing with the pain. The only time I really struggle with pain now is when I sleep. It is hard for me to lie down comfortably and rest at night, due to coughing bouts and soreness in my neck and shoulders. Please pray for relief from discomfort at night and restful sleep.

2) Grace and I are encouraged spiritually. We've really seen God do so much around us lately, and we're amazed at His power. He is answering prayer after prayer from providing for all our needs here in CA from accommodations, to babysitting, to help making my labor-intensive special diet, to cleaning, to providing spiritual nourishment when we need it, even though we are away from our church family in MN, to providing exactly the amount of financial support we need to do this.

Because the winter is so hard on my body and I'm prone to pneumonia, we're thinking of actually staying here in Southern California for a few months and wait out the winter, while we continue the therapy on our own. Please pray for wisdom whether we should stay here and that God would provide a private place to sublet and the help we need to continue this labor-intensive cancer therapy.

3) God is providing physical rest and nourishment. Even though I have some pain and tumors that are attacking my body, I feel very refreshed and nourished. In the past I've shared that I struggle to desire to eat through a tube in my stomach, but God is really changing the way I see food and my appetite has increased greatly. I think my food intake has doubled since we've been here at the treatment center.

4) The Gerson Therapy is going really well. We're totally enjoying it and it is definitely helping me feel better. Praise God for providing the wisdom and the means to do this. To be honest, Grace kept doing research and telling me about all these things she was reading about, but I was skeptical because I didn't really understand the science behind these treatments. We are so thankful that the Lord has lead us here.

Grace and I are learning so much here at the treatment center. The man who leads it is a licensed Gerson practicioner and has his PhD in nutrition. He lectures us after breakfast each day so that we can understand the science behind everything we are doing.

The Gerson Therapy was developed by Dr. Max Gerson in the 1940s. Dr. Gerson was an MD who treated and cured many patients from "incurable" diseases, including Nobel prize winner Dr. Albert Schweitzer and his wife.

Everybody in both the conventional and alternative medical industries agree with Dr. Gerson's basic theory behind treatment of degenerative diseases - use the body's natural immune response to cure disease. Yet, radiation, chemotherapy, and surgery actually destroy the immune system. In fact, cancer surgeries often include removing lymph nodes, essential parts of the body to fighting off infection and disease. Cutting-edge cancer research has begun to realize this downfall of conventional cancer treatment. The newest wave of developments, known as immunotherapy, which is still in clinical trials, tries to enhance the body's immune response to cancer by harvesting proteins and antibodies and reinjecting them into your system. 70 years after Dr. Gerson, conventional medicine has come full circle and now has the same goal as Dr. Gerson, using the body's own immune system to kill off cancer, but uses a different method.

The Gerson method seeks to naturally restore the body to a healthy state so that it can stage its own immune response to the disease the way it is supposed to. The human body is so amazingly powerful and complex, wouldn't it do a better job of creating white blood cells to kill cancer than a laboratory? This has huge benefits for not only long-term cure, but for current quality of life. It uses real nutrients the way God originally designed food, grown off of trees or out of the ground, and uses the food as medicine to flood the body with the nutrients and enzymes it needs to function normally so that the immune system can attack disease the way it was meant to. If these real foods had been nourishing the body all along, the body's systems and immune system would not have been in a compromised state and would have killed the cancer cells off before anyone had ever detected them.

In America we tend to see food as entertainment, rather than nourishment and medicine. Advertising, marketing, and billboards from the food industry tell us that food is supremely to satisfy our pleasures. While eating is one of the great pleasures of life, it can also be good for us rather than toxic to us.

The nutritional statements on food packaging shows us little or no information about the true benefit - or lack thereof - of our food. In America, we emphasize calories, fat, and protein, which can be important but good nutrition surpasses those descriptions. Today's food labeling is a gimmick that oversimplifies the science of nutrition and allows food sellers to market their products as good for us when they truly are not. Most of what we eat in an American diet is not real food at all, but food-like things synthesized, genetically altered, processed, salted and thrown in a box. You could look at the back of a bag of carrots and then pick up a bag of crackers enriched with synthetic vitamins and minerals and leave the store thinking the crackers might be better for you as a snack.

Fresh fruits and vegetables have natural versions of the vitamins and minerals that are inserted into processed foods synthetically. Synthesized vitamins often cannot be absorbed into our bodies the way they can in their natural state in foods. They also do not have the same benefit as vitamins in produce and can even be harmful at times.

More than that, food labeling says nothing of the many enzymes that exist in fruit and vegetables. Enzymes are the key to any metabolic reaction in the human body and can only be found in raw fruits and vegetables. Processing and heating foods kills the all essential enzymes. Without these enzymes, life would cease to exist.

The reason why Americans are so hungry all the time to the point that they often become overweight is because their body is crying out for real nourishment - vitamins from fresh fruit and vegetables and live enzymes. Unlike processed foods, you cannot overeat fruit and vegetables, which are really satisfying when eaten in good quantities. In fact, the more you eat, the more nutrition you receive. We're a country that can afford to eat hearty meals, but we're starving just like the rest of the world. Our bodies have plenty of calories, fat, sugars and protein, but we're starving for the real nutrition and live enzymes so essential to our bodies for real nourishment.

"Let your food be your medicine and your medicine be your food" - Hippocrates, c.400 BC

The Gerson Therapy is extremely intense and time consuming but simple and not very expensive. It consists of a combination of fresh carrot and green juices 10 times a day over a 12 hour period and a vegan, low sodium, high potassium breakfast, lunch, and dinner that equals 2,000-3,000 calories a day. In the standard American diet, meat and table salt leach potassium from the body. But potassium is what is needed to break down the cancer cell's outer layer, which disguises it from the immune system. The goal is to aggressively flood the system with nutrient-rich alkaline foods, which will bring your body's pH to optimal levels to allow normal metabolic functions to occur, as well as to consume huge amounts of enzyme-rich, raw vegetable juices to stimulate the immune system and help kill cancer cells.

In addition, the therapy includes a handful of carefully chosen inexpensive supplements and enzymes that the body uses in normal metabolic processes. The supplements are so natural that you couldn't even overdose on them if you tried, just like you couldn't overdose on vegetables. They provide the same things found in the foods we are eating, but because of the dire state a cancerous body is in, the supplements allow us to ramp up even more what we are getting.

The most invasive part of this therapy is a vitamin B-12 shot I give myself every other day. What a big step away from the list of 100 perscription drugs that I was on in March when I was in ICU, not to mention the $500,000 that went into somebody's pocket for all my treatments.

I'm thankful to my doctors for their help and I know that God is sovereign over all those events in my life, but after all of that I don't have much to show for it but a list of pains and disabilities and a poor prognosis.

I'm not saying that if you do something like the Gerson Therapy you'll suddenly be healed of all your ailments (but many many many people have been and case studies prove it), I'm simply saying that perhaps preventative medicine and non-invasive treatments such as the Gerson Therapy should be a normal part of our lives and endorsed by our government rather than the use of toxic drugs, scaples and processed foods. Each year the FDA approves food coloring after food coloring, and artificial flavor A, B, and Z, and new genetically modified foods void of nutrition, and sets the safe levels of lead and arsenic and pesticides that can be in our foods. And who sits on the boards of the FDA and the National Cancer Institute? The advisory committees for these agencies have ties to the most powerful petrochemical, pharmaceutical, and food companies. Check out the FDA website, you'll see that the ONLY two experts in nutrition on the science board are from Coca Cola, Inc. and Mars, Inc.

My hope is that each of us when we do research about health can see past the superficial layer of marketing, propoganda, and skewed statistics that pervades our society, and make informed decisions based on how our unique, individual body actually works. My hope is that others would be able to discover this sooner than we did. We are not a statistic and our individual and family's needs are not the same as our neighbors. There is great information out there, but we tend to not see it unless we're really looking, particularly because culturally we are so accustomed to eating the standard American diet and taking a pill for everything. God is teaching Grace and I more every day. If we pray with faith in God rather than in doctors or ourselves, and beg Him for wisdom, He will answer.

Prayer Requests:

1) That God would continue to nurse me back to health and heal me completely of cancer.

2) For wisdom about treatments. We're taking the Gerson Therapy one month at a time. After each month we're going to reevaluate its effectiveness and whether or not we should add/subtract something, or go in a different direction. The great thing is that as we learn more about our bodies, we can take control of our healthcare and make decisions on our own. Since we've been here, my health has been very stable, and my energy and spirits are way up!

3) For wisdom whether or not to stay in CA for the winter. After having pneumonia practically the entire month of September you can probably imagine that I am hesitant to return to the harsh winter in MN, especially with the amount of sickness my kids bring home. Plus, with the sunshine and the warm weather I can get fresh air and exercise, so essential to good health, everyday outside. Please pray for wisdom about this and that God will provide a place to sublet for a few months if He leads us to stay.

We've made new friends! It is much more enjoyable to share this treatment experience with really cool people. They skipped conventional treatments and are not enduring the pain and stress (which totally obstructs healing) brought on by chemo, radiation, or surgery, so it is a really positive, hopeful atmosphere filled with laughter. We cannot help but see each other as not having that dreadful word, "cancer," but rather people who have something in their bodies that they want to get rid of and get healthy in the process.

The juicing station.

The really nice people running the therapy do all the work, providing me with 20 lbs of enzyme and nutrient-rich vegetables per day. The grind and press method using a Norwalk juicer is the most effective juicing method and provides predigested juice that can be quickly absorbed into my blood stream (by the way, Dr. Norman Walker who invented this juicer lived to be really old, despite originally having gotten into nutrition due to bad health). That juice is incredibly rich in chlorophyll.

My meal.

What you see above are four cups of food blended in a Vita-Mix for insertion into my tube. Usually there is a mixture of potatoes, salad, veggies, Hippocrates soup, raw garlic, flax oil and a handful of supplements. Before I came here, I was only able to get 2 cups into my stomach before feeling nauseous and giving up on eating. When I got here I started at 3 cups. Now I can get at least 4 cups in at each meal plus 10 cups of juice per day! This in itself is a huge praise because my weight is so low.

Salads and raw vegetables are the norm.

A cup of carrot juice. I get a total of 10-11 fresh juices per day.

The ancient Hippocrates soup!

The Lord paints the gospel and His characteristics throughout all creation. What a picture of the gospel real food is that God made. How despite how we don't deserve it, within a matter of less than two years, even the most physically bad off, can still have everything reversed and be to better health than ever. His mercy is over all of His creation!

Thanks for the memories...Part 1 of 4

2008-11-10T16:32:00.021-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

On Friday, Saturday and Sunday got to visit with many of our old friends from when we used to live in Southern California at UCLA. On Sunday night we had a get together in Fullerton. Even though we planned it last minute, some of our friends and family were able to make it. People came from all over the place to be with us from Seattle, to Northern California, to Maryland.

To say the least, the past several days has been an extremely encouraging time catching up. I was afraid it would feel weird like it was everybody's last chance to see me before I die. But instead it was just like catching up on the past few years. On Sunday night I was having such a great time laughing that I forgot about pain and cancer. During the sharing time Kenny summed up a year or two of memories as "legendary debacles." My old roomate, Mike (a.k.a. Sung), finally admitted that the low point in his life was when he was living with me (see videos)!

I wanted to have the sharing time so that I could video tape it for my kids. I want my kids to hear from my family and friends that if I die, it might be sad but its not an empty tragedy. I want my kids to see that God was faithful to use my life for a purpose, to be there for others. In the same way, God used every single person in that room and countless others to be there for me through the thick and thin, to hold me up when I was weak, to teach me something new each day, and to enrich my life with experiences that molded me into who I am today. I treasure these words because not because they mean that I am great, but that God is great. That He would rescue somebody like me from hell, but also that He would rescue me from squandering my life. Praise God that He would use me to have impact. Even if it is a small impact for just a few years. That is a picture of the gospel.

Unfortunately my parents were not able to come out to California last minute to be there, but they of course have been and still are the most influential people in my life. Thank you all for being who you are and for being in my life. Thanks for the memories.

Video Part 1 (more parts in blogs below. If you can I encourage you to watch them all. You'll catch a glimpse of my history and the Lord's faithfulness in my life. Prayer requests and updates are at the end of Part 4):

See Video Part 2 in the blog below...

Thanks for the Memories...Part 2

2008-11-10T16:30:00.002-06:00

Video Part 2:

Thanks for the Memories...Part 3

2008-11-10T16:28:00.001-06:00

Video Part 3:

Thanks for the Memories...Part 4

2008-11-10T16:20:00.003-06:00

Video Part 4:

Prayer Requests:

1) Praise God that things have been going great at the treatment center! We are learning so much about the human body and how to help it fight disease. Pray that the treatments would work and that God would heal me completely. I'm feeling better than I have in a very long time! The children are doing great. The Lord is answering your prayers for us.

2) Praise God that this past week has been rich and filled with blessings through old and new relationships. We are greatly encouraged to see those we love and miss face to face, and to hear how God is working in their lives.

3) Pray that God would provide a way to continue this 12 hour per day, 7 day per week, intense therapy on our own after the first two weeks as the juicing and special foods need to be made fresh daily. This is more work than we would be able to handle.

4) Continue to pray for the kids as they have been spending time with different people each day while I'm in treatment. We get to see them in the morning and at night. Praise God for providing help to watch the kids during the day.

More Pictures:

My cousin Dan and Sarah (Pei Pei) and her husband Todd. We all grew up together in Danville before I moved to NJ. Where'd Gracie go?

Everybody gathered around for a sharing time. People were so kind to give our children some new toys to play with!

Some friends from UCLA. Left to right: Frank, Nik, John, me, Luke, Bo, Chris, Mike (Sung), and Kenny

Matt, Angel, Philip and Jeanna visited us in Cerritos on Saturday. Philip and Jeanna are from the Philippines. Philip is currently at the Master's seminary and plans to return to the Philippines when he finishes.

Our friends from UCLA who now go to Immanuel Bible Church. Its funny how we're almost all married now!

Praise God!

2008-11-07T13:27:00.014-06:00

ANDREW WRITES:

Praise God that we made it to California safely. The first two days were rough being in a 9 foot wide box with 5 people, but after a while things smoothed out and we got more used to it. I enjoyed the trip, the kids did great, and God has answered so many prayers. We are now staying at a friend's house in Cerritos that they recently moved out but is still partially furnished. I was taking a walk in the warm sun this morning praying and just thanking the Lord for all that He is doing in and around us.

This Sunday we will be having a get-together at our friend, Joy's, house in Fullerton from 4-8PM. Details are in the blog below.

Update - During the get together at 6 PM on Sunday we will have a time of sharing which I hope to video tape for my kids to keep. If you are planning on coming I hope you can make it to that. Food will be provided. See address in the blog below.

Praises:

1) The Lord granted us an enjoyable trip to CA and brought us here safely.

2) I'm feeling better physically because I've been able to get off narcotics for a week now (and its sunny and warm). My body has finally adjusted to simple over the counter pain meds. Also, though we've been traveling we've been able to maintain my special diet, blend healthy organic foods, and juice for me.

3) The Lord provided a relaxing, private, 3 bedroom house for us to stay in and relax for a few days before I begin treatment. This is such a retreat for us! I'm almost tempted to blow off treatments and just hang out here for 2 weeks!

4) We're feeling spiritually encouraged and refreshed as we have had time to relax and spend in God's word and prayer as a family. The Lord must truly be answering your prayers for us. I feel excited about what God is doing around us. Keep praying big prayers! I feel like God is going to do great things. Maybe Jesus will return soon and usher in the new Kingdom!

Here are some pictures from our trip:

Day 1 - Driving through Iowa.

Day 2 - We relaxed all afternoon at a beautiful park in Oklahoma City. I had no idea what to expect from Oklahoma. This was an absolutely beautiful place on a beautiful afternoon.

Day 3 - We started our morning routine at a park in Amarillo, Tx

Day 4 - We started our morning routine at a park in Flagstaff, Az. We met Ray and Bonita, Hopi Native Americans and had an opportunity to have a great conversation with them.

Day 4 - The Grand Canyon. Wow. I've seen pictures, but seeing it and looking over the edge with no railing really makes you feel small. I was absolutely amazed. This is the one trip I never was able to make while I lived in Los Angeles. I'm glad I was finally able to make it there.

Gracie soaking up the sun in Cerritos, CA. We made it!

A California Get Together on Nov 9th! (updated)

2008-11-04T11:48:00.009-06:00

We're currently in Flagstaff, AZ. We should be arriving in Los Angeles in the next day or two.

We've decided to do the Gerson treatment at the treatment center in California on Nov 11 for one or two weeks.

We would love to visit with any or all of you while we are in California. On Nov 9th our friend, Joy Chiu, will be hosting a get-together for us at her house in Fullerton (RSVP at this updated link). Old friends, those we haven't seen in years, and those who only know us through our blog are all welcome alike. We would love to see you or even meet you for the first time. RSVP via the link above.

If you cannot make it Sunday at 4pm, we will be at Immanuel Bible Church (http://www.ibcbible.org/) on Sunday morning and will be able to meet with friends during lunch at the church.

Location:
Joy Chiu's Home
2023 Ladera Vista Drive, Fullerton, CA 92831

Snacks and refreshments are provided. Also, if you so wish, please feel free to bring some food for others to share.

When:
Sunday, November 9, 4:00-8:00PM
Phone: 714-203-4330

Please pray that our time in California would be a refreshing and restful time for our family and an opportunity to enjoy each other without all of the distractions we've faced over the past several months.

Please pray also for our encouragement and that we might encourage all those we encounter.

We are thankful for all of you and all of your words and deeds of encouragement!

P.S. My voice is very soft and raspy and I have difficulty speaking ,so please just bare with me. You might have to ask me to repeat myself.

What am I living for?

2008-10-31T04:34:00.009-05:00

ANDREW WRITES:

I've been having some ups and downs lately. Physically it has been difficult because getting off my addiction to narcotic pain meds really really throws my body into a physical and mental depression. Praise God that after months of struggling with this I'm basically off! Once in a while I take 1/10th of a dose if my body is freaking out, but these should be the last few days of narcotics. The good thing is that I'm more alert and able to function more normally. The bad thing is that I feel a lot of aches and nerve pain in my neck, head and right shoulder. This makes it very difficult to sleep at night. Please pray for my rest at night and for relief from the pain, I haven't had a good nights rest in as long as I can remember.

On Tuesday I had a lunch meeting with Bob after physical therapy. I was really struggling that day to find joy in anything. On top of the physical difficulties of aches and pains, I've been struggling mentally and spiritually with motivation to do anything helpful for my family. I told Bob that all of my goals have been dashed to pieces. I looked forward to growing in my marriage with Grace and sending our kids off to school and growing old together. I longed for the day when I would send AJ and Gracie to school on the bus, or when I would sit down across from AJ and tell him all about college before sending him off. So much for dreams of making enough money to travel or have a comfy retirement, or even providing financial security for my family. I'm even unmotivated about keeping myself alive through my feeding tube because there is nothing satisfying about it anymore. So what am I living for?

Bob responded by saying, "If these are the things that motivate you, then you're not living for the glory of God. Everybody struggles with this, but you're just more aware because you're facing the end of your life."

That cut to my heart. How could I have been so blind to this. I've always thought I wanted to live for God's glory, but when God starts taking away what seems most important in life, the heart motivations are exposed. I mean I've boldly preached the gospel, I've served at church, I'm teaching 2 kids about the bible, I'm working on my marriage, I study God's word all the time. Could all that stuff be done with faulty motivations? During the 1-mile walk back home from our meeting I spent some time thinking and praying about this. I felt so ashamed. I'm starting to see who I really am deep down inside, and how deceptive my heart really is. It's so awful and ugly. I never knew that it could be this hard to face who you really are.

But praise be to God that through Jesus Christ my filthy stains have been washed away. Jesus died that sinners like me may live. And though I fail all the time, Jesus works in me to actually change me from the heart, not just on the outside. And through Jesus I can start to live for His glory rather than for myself. By seeing myself more clearly for who I really am, though I'm dying, I think I'm starting to truly live.

There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.

There is A Fountain Filled With Blood, William Cowper, 1772

Prayer Requests:

1) Pray for complete healing, relief from pain, and that I would be able to rest at night.

2) Pray for Grace as she keeps our family together. There is just so much work to do as I am on a time consuming special diet and I need fresh juice 6 times per day. Praise God for her help and encouragement!

2) Pray for me about what I shared above. Pray that God would start changing my heart motivations in life to the glory of God alone and that He would grant me true repentance.

3) Pray for safety and quality time with my family, extended family, and friends during our trip to California. Pray that we would be an encouragement to others and that our time together would be profitable and for God's glory. Praise God for providing our friend, Johnny, who is going to drive with us there in an RV, leaving Saturday Nov 1.

4) Pray for wisdom about alternative and experimental treatments. We're not sure to what degree we will do the Gerson Therapy at a clinic in the Los Angeles area. We might start it at the clinic, or we might just learn it and start it at home. Pray also for wisdom about doing experimental Immunotherapy and Gene Therapies that are in clinical trials at MD Anderson and Sloan Kettering.

Beyond What We Ask or Think

2008-10-25T18:40:00.005-05:00

We had prayer meeting last Wednesday night and the elders prayed over me. Bob encouraged us to pray believing Ephesians 3:20 "Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us."

Do I truly believe that the great God of the universe who created all things from nothing can heal a few tumors?

Do I believe He can do FAR MORE ABUNDANTLY more than that?

Do I believe that He can transform the Twin Cities Metro with the gospel through the Holy Spirit? Can I imagine crime decreasing, welfare cases decreasing, divorce rates decreasing, unwanted pregnancies decreasing, or children obeying their parents because the gospel is transforming hearts of stone into hearts that worship the true and living God?

Do I believe that God can transform a nation through the gospel?

Do I believe that God can transform the entire world through it? He can do it, and abundantly more than that!

I was greatly encouraged by John Piper's sermons on prayer and fasting from January of 1995. If you haven't already heard them, I highly recommend these sermons as they give much biblical and practical counsel on the subject of prayer and fasting. Piper's book, A Hunger for God, is similar in content if you prefer to read than to listen.

I know so many people have been praying, and perhaps fasting, begging God to heal me for the past 2 years. From Eph 3:20 I believe God can do that and so much more. Lets pray that God will not only heal me, but blow our minds by answering BIG prayers for our cities, country, and nation. Lets hunger and pray not only for healing of physical sickness, but that the Holy Spirit would come and revive the spiritual deadness in our world and cause us to hunger for God rather than for food, or comfort, or money, or vacations, or promotions or whatever it is that can never truly satisfy us!

As fellow brethren from all over the world, would you please consider a group fast as individuals, small groups, or churches every week from Wednesday after dinner until dinner on Thursday for 5 weeks ending at the Thanksgiving feast?

1) Pray that Jesus would return soon.
2) Pray that through the Holy Spirit the gospel would go forth and transform our families, our cities, and our nations for His glory.
3) Pray that God would perform a miracle before our very eyes to heal me of cancer and restore my speech and swallowing.

4) And please encourage everyone by sharing how God is answering these prayers and whatever other prayers are heavy on your hearts that we may praise God together, that He truly is the God who does far more abundantly than what we can ask and can far surpass the furthest extents of our imagination.

They brought the boy to Him. When he saw Him, immediately the spirit threw him into a convulsion, and falling to the ground, he began rolling around and foaming at the mouth.
And He asked his father, "How long has this been happening to him?" And he said, "From childhood.
"It has often thrown him both into the fire and into the water to destroy him. But if You can do anything, take pity on us and help us!"
And Jesus said to him, " 'If You can?' All things are possible to him who believes."
Immediately the boy's father cried out and said, "I do believe; help my unbelief."
When Jesus saw that a crowd was rapidly gathering, He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, "You deaf and mute spirit, I command you, come out of him and do not enter him again."
After crying out and throwing him into terrible convulsions, it came out; and the boy became so much like a corpse that most of them said, "He is dead!"
But Jesus took him by the hand and raised him; and he got up.
When He came into the house, His disciples began questioning Him privately, "Why could we not drive it out?"
And He said to them, "This kind cannot come out by anything but prayer."

Mark 9:20-29 (NASB)

Plans modified

2008-10-24T13:25:00.004-05:00

As we've been praying and talking about this alternative therapy, it seems as if God is changing our hearts to modify our plans a little. In light of the priorities that we laid out last week, it doesn't seem like being away from my children, and doing such an intense all-consuming therapy will be good for us. Instead, while I'm still up and about I think we should have as much fun together as possible, and fit parts of that therapy into our lives so long as it doesn't take too much time.

Our friend is going to allow us to borrow their RV for a few weeks so we can get away and travel a bit. With an RV we can travel but still be able to feed me healthy foods and juices and spend lots of time together. We still want to go to Southern California to be with our friends and visit a clinic where we can learn the therapy. Instead of doing inpatient therapy, we plan to do a few outpatient classes or have a trained therpist come to us to teach us how to administer parts of the therapy.

Thanks to everybody who generously offered a place to stay. We're considering our options and will need to stop somewhere in SoCal. Hopefully we'll be able to see many of you face to face.

We'll keep you updated!

**************

In the meantime please pray for my rest at night. My neck continues to hurt more and more, especially as I've been getting off narcotics. Its not a severe pain, but more of a constant ache that makes it difficult to sleep.

Continue to pray for full healing and restoration. God is able to do far more than we can ask or think.

Praise God that things at home are continuing to run more and more smoothly, and we've had help setting up our house.

Prayer and help

2008-10-21T17:55:00.004-05:00

Grace and I are looking into doing an alternative therapy that may require us to travel. Our options are to:

1) Go to a clinic in Loma Linda, CA near Riverside.
2) Go to a similar clinic in Tijuana, Mexico.
3) Have a caregiver come to our home in Minnesota and teach us the therapy.

In all three cases we will learn the therapy and continue it at home. Please pray for wisdom about what to do, and that God would open and close the doors according to His will for us. In addition, pray that if God wills for us to do this that He would provide for the logistics and the help we need. Personally I would lean toward the California location since that is our old stomping ground.

If we go to Loma Linda or Mexico we will need a place for our kids to stay nearby since they can't stay at the clinic. We'll bring somebody along with us (person yet to be determined) to help with the kids. If anybody reading this has a rental or a place in the Los Angeles or Riverside areas we could use for a few weeks in early November please email me. Thanks!

Please also keep praying that we would trust God and treasure Him more than life itself. It is easy to get caught up and stressed out by relying on our own efforts.

To Be Held

2008-10-18T21:53:00.003-05:00

ANDREW WRITES:

Dr. Yueh said that usually when cancer spreads to a place like the spine people on average live about 1 year. He said that you never know because his uncle lived 7 years even through the doctors told him he had about a year. Dr. Yueh also said that for me things will probably get very painful, so I might end up on very high doses of drugs which will make me unable to function properly. In addition, there might be a point where I lose by voice to the cancer, so I can't expect to be a fully capable person during the entire time I'm alive. In a conservative plan, I think we should plan for 6 months of alertness, and if I do better that would be awesome.

The pneumonia that I mentioned in my last post is clearing up. I'll be on antibiotics for longer this time. I actually felt pretty good by Tuesday and met with Bob at Starbucks to talk a little more about priorities. Grace and I are so thankful that the elders of our church are mentoring us through this because they are so much wiser than us. I wouldn't even know where to start in terms of making preparations to die. Bob gave me some good guidance to start prioritizing my time and planning for the next few months.

At first I was a little hesitant about making plans to die, because it seems as if I'm throwing in the towel. But Bob told me that we need to both believe and pray that God will prolong my life, and at the same time get things ready as if I was going to die soon. Its like praying for the best but still being prepared for the worst. He gave me the example of how God said David's son would die after he sinned with Bathsheba, but David still prayed and fasted begging God to change his mind. Although everything we know about my current health situation would say that I may die soon, we can pray with faith begging God to prolong my life. If God does, then that would be awesome, but if God allows me to die of cancer then I want to be as ready as possible.

So in the next 6 months I'm going to focus on 4 main things:

a) Spending quality time with my wife and kids as well as some time with other loved ones.

b) Writing lots of letters of encouragement and instruction to my wife and kids especially for watershed moments in their lives.

c) Preparing Grace for life without me. That includes instructing her on future decisions, teaching her to do some of my jobs like the finances, reorganizing and setting up our house for her to be effective, etc...

d) Keeping myself healthy and mentally alert by exercising and doing miscellaneous work.

This week despite the sad news we've been quite happy. Not only have I been feeling better from pneumonia, I think God has answered your prayers and greatly encouraged our family. I've postponed my speech and physical therapy appointments until we figure out what we're going to do next. That gave me some time to just get out with my family and enjoy the beautiful fall colors. We drove through some parks in Minneapolis and took walks around some of the lakes and along the Mississippi river.

Since my health has been stable all week, we decided we should use Saturday to get some things done around the house. Friday afternoon we sent out a late notice email to ask for help for an hour to move our bed, 4 bookshelves, and some miscellaneous stuff around in our house. Since I was diagnosed with cancer just weeks after moving into our house, we've been waiting for a long time to get things set up properly. On Saturday 6 or 7 guys showed up and moved that stuff in about an hour as expected. Then to our surprise they kept asking what else they could do. We had a million other things that we needed done but didn't want to burden others with so much work. The guys stayed all afternoon and just humbly served us and completely rearranged and organized our 3 bedrooms upstairs and our family room. Somebody even vacuumed, mowed the lawn, raked the leaves, and brought a stack of firewood into our garage. Then to top it off they reconfigured our printers, TV, DVD player, lights and everything else that got moved, tangled and unplugged. Wow.

At the end of all the work I was resting in my recliner upstairs and our dear brother, Mark, came up before he left. I had asked him in the past specifically to pray for me and hold me accountable because I was struggling with leadership of my family. He asked me about it and I told him that my great anxiety right now is feeling overwhelmed by all that needs to be done to prepare my family for life without me. And my second greatest anxiety is fear of pain.

Mark said to me, "We love you guys so much. We would do anything for you guys. If you die God is going to take care of you family no matter what." He also reminded me that not only is the church going to take care of them if I die, Jesus is going to shepherd them. He is their Chief Shepherd. After he left, I felt so encouraged because the words he said to me were proven to be true with deeds. God sent men to our house to take care of more things than I could have asked for today, and He will continue to take care of all our needs.

I was holding Gracie the other night and she fell asleep in my arms curled up in a ball. I just sat there enjoying her soft breathing and the content expression on her face, wishing that I could go back to the days when my parents held me like that. Oh I how I longed to be tenderly held and cared for like my baby Gracie. Today, I truly felt that way.

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Prayer requests:

1) That God would heal me of cancer completely. Especially of the tumors in my neck and spine.

2) That we could continue to be encouraged by God's promises to us. We have good days and bad days, but pray that we would just have good days.

3) For wisdom about alternative treatments

4) That we would be able to effectively use our time according to the priorities described above.

5) That I would not be anxious about what needs to be done or about pain but would cast those cares upon Jesus.

6) Pray for relief of discomforts in my neck and that I would be able to rest at night.