I'm Back!

Hi everyone, I’m back! It's been nine years since I last spoke with you here.

Have you ever heard of an "inciting incident?" In storytelling, it's the event that kicks off the action.

The inciting incident of this entire blog was AJ's birth. Can you believe that was 21 years ago? My beautiful boy is a grown man now. In fact, he is the same age his dad was when I met him. 

Gracie, who now goes by her middle name, Olivia, said to me, "Mom, when I realized that AJ is the same age as papa was when you met, I had a mid-life crisis." 

A mid-life crisis. LOLOLOL. My kids still make me laugh. Well, girl, if anyone should be having one, it’s your mom 😂. But since I will always think I'm in my twenties, all is well. Plus, I've overcome so many crises that I can't make up ones to stress about. 

Celebrating Chinese New Year with our fellowship

A lot has changed in the last 21 years. I meet people who have never seen a blog before! Typing "LOL" became a thing. And now is passe. But I'm still gonna use it. And emojis are permissible in writing. 

So what is the inciting incident to me resuming this blog? 

Andrew's birthday is September 11th. A couple of years ago, around that date, one of his closest friends reached out to me for the first time. He felt compelled to connect because of what he called a series of "synchronicities” that all seemed to point to Andrew during the week of his birthday. 

I asked if we could speak on the phone. When we did, it was surreal for both of us. It felt like stepping back in time, with Andrew right in the middle of it. He talked about the letters Andrew had written that I had posted on the blog. 

Afterwards, I asked AJ if he'd like to hear about his dad from someone outside of our family. A time before his dad met me. AJ wanted to. So, that January, AJ met up with him.

After reading Andrew's letters so many times over the years, I've realized that they are not only lessons from his life to his children, but they are his life story. When his friend reached out and referenced those letters, I felt God was telling me it was time to step out of the shadows and the fear, and to open back up. It is time to start sharing all that God has been teaching me since I last blogged here.

Even though it's been many years since Andrew died, raising our kids without their dad remained profoundly difficult. They looked like him and sounded like him. And they inherited both his strengths and weaknesses. As they approached adolescence, I often felt at a loss how to understand or teach them. In the end, God provided the guidance and help I needed. But the responsibility was ultimately mine, and it never stopped feeling heavy until they left for college.

Now that they are adults, I am so incredibly proud of them. I never thought it was possible to feel this level of relief. The transition to an empty nest was tough, but I can finally feel my brain clearing up.

Last October, I learned the song, Great Is. This song spoke to me, because AJ had just moved to Boston. Even though I was struggling with no longer seeing AJ on weekends and adjusting to an empty nest, my kids were both walking with the Lord. I reflected a lot on their childhoods.

Back when I first joined my fellowship in 2018, I was often despairing and weary. Our leader, Steve, encouraged me that one day I would see the purpose of all my losses. In recent years, he challenged me to look for what I gained rather than what I lost. I put a daily reminder on my phone to do this and to exercise self-control in my perspective. And then my eyes began to reopen. 

All of us are covered and surrounded by so much blessing. But I think the maturing person is able to recognize those blessings. 

AJ got us matching sweatshirts for Christmas

As "Great Is" says:

It was lonely in the dark
But You were working
It was painful,
it was hard
But You were working
Couldn't feel You at the time
But You were working
Full of questions, wondering why
But You were working

As I began to see again, I saw that God had never left me. He had always taken care of us. And so much was good. I got to raise my children, and God provided for us the whole time. I got to write. I got to dance. We had family, friends. I just had forgotten to taste and see the goodness of the Lord in it.

I love Forrest Frank's "Thankful." It always puts things in perspective: "I've got a roof and a bed. A couple groceries to stay fed. I've got a phone and clean water. And some shoes when I wanna go farther...I woke up this morning thinking, 'Thank You, Lord.' For giving me everything I could ever need and more. I've got so much to be thankful for. I have lights and a fan. A couple people who know who I am. I have a car and clean clothes. Pots and pans I can cook on the stove. I have the sun and air in my lungs. And a big mess that I get to clean up. But most of all, one thing's true. Jesus, I'm grateful for You." 

Then, during my kids' Christmas break, I overheard AJ on the phone counseling a friend. I was shocked. He sounded just like Henry (also from the fellowship) daily counseling AJ on the phone or Steve all those years of counseling the three of us. When I heard AJ, even the things I was most ashamed of were redeemed. Profoundly broken friends would tell AJ things that no one else could help them with, not pastors nor psychologists. AJ could listen and respond with empathy, compassion, and kindness. He recognized what was being shared, because they echoed the pain he had seen in me. And he was able to help them make life-saving progress. A 21 year old college student was able to do this.

My gain has been the fellowship, a church that is being restored and remade. It is my kids walking with God and caring about others. My children are the greatest earthly treasure God has given me. I can understand people in any degree of pain. And now seeing how all my suffering has shaped and refined my kids and me, so that we can help people in ways we couldn’t have if our story had not been one of loss. But now gain.

After I began to embrace these things internally, an outward representation of God's faithfulness and blessing happened.

In 2012, I moved from Eden Prairie, Minnesota back to New Jersey, where I grew up. But I never could bring myself to buy a house again after what I had written the year before. Our house in Minnesota had: "urgent demands all at once - after a heavy windstorm a large tree branch fell onto the fence into our neighbor's yard, the freezer stopped working and all the food was melting, something cracked in the toilet so that water was leaking onto the floor, someone brought to my attention the windows were rotting and needed to be replaced before winter, AJ got scarlet fever - all within the same six weeks. This was all happening as I was dealing with the worst stage of my grief process. I was already worn out, but now I was fully saturated with physical and emotional exhaustion."

I live in a New Jersey suburb of New York City. After the pandemic, rent skyrocketed. I wondered if I would be forced to leave the area I grew up in. Then, a friend told me about housing lotteries. Every new luxury building in the state is required to set aside a percentage of apartments with lower rent. 

When my fellowship leader, Steve, said, "This may be how the Lord wants to provide for you," it sounded too good and too unlikely. But because of his advice, I pursued it with fervor. I applied to over 50 places across multiple counties. I resolved to be open to wherever the Lord wanted to place me, even if it meant moving far away from my communities. 

Then, the email came in. I had drawn a good number for a building. 

Out of 11,000 entries, I secured 1 of the 90 available spots. 

It wasn't just any building. It was in the perfect location! I had applied to so many places, I didn’t even remember applying to this one.  

The rent will be what I used to pay back in 2012 and what my mortgage used to cost in Minnesota. 

A gracious, miraculous provision from God. "The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord" (Proverbs 16:33).

My kids took me to dinner for my birthday.

I lost so much after Andrew died. A man developed an unhealthy obsession towards me, following me to all my safe places. Something no one would have dared if Andrew were standing by my side. My brother-in-law wouldn't have resumed making fun of me after a 5-year hiatus during my marriage. So many bad things happened. There was so much instability without Andrew to protect and lead his family. But if all that had not happened, I might never have been desperate enough to find myself at the fellowship. Right from the beginning, Steve worked to rebuild in me my trust of men, spiritual leaders, then God, and now, most of all, myself.

"Great Is" testifies:

You'll turn it around
Don't know when, don't know how

But You always do it somehow  

I love the whole playlist from that October 2025 set and listen to it almost every day. If you’d like to listen, click here. It's just a few songs. "Blessed Be Your Name" was in Andrew's funeral. And the song "God Is Faithful" speaks so much to me too.

Let me know if you're ever in the New York City area! I'd love to hear from you again.                     

What are some gains that have come out of losses? 

What are some things you are grateful for in your life?

Junior High Letter

If you've ever read my blog, you know that I've posted all of Andrew's letter to be read posthumously. There were letters to be read the first 5 days after his death, the first year after, when my kids started kindergarten, etc. I publish them according to the occasion for which he wrote it.

After 7 years of having no more letters to share with you, here is a letter from Andrew to A.J. Andrew's last letter to AJ was for elementary school, which I posted when he entered kindergarten in 2010. I feel relieved that we made it! We made it to the next letter. 

AJ is in 7th grade this year, which means it's time for Andrew's letter to him about Junior High.

Mt. Wilson in Los Angeles

Junior High

Dear AJ,

Entering junior high is an exciting time. Things will be changing very fast so try to take a step back every now and then and see how you’ve progressed. For example, when I was in junior high I tried all sorts of new sports, I got contact lenses, and I made new sets of friends in just one year. When I look back I see how I was just trying to be cool and fit in, so I made all these quick changes in my life just to please others. I was more worried about what other people thought of me than what God thought of me, so I changed quickly on the outside to gain acceptance from my peers rather than from God.

Be careful not to walk with the wicked. They will entice you to join their crowd, but they’re actually not that cool. The cool crowd changes every couple of years anyways. The cool people in junior high won’t be cool in high school, and college, and so on. Its always just a cycle, don’t fall into the trap and waste your time. Just keep focused on pleasing God and walking in His ways.

(Insert proverbs 1 here)

I assume mom isn’t married yet, but either way you need to be a man and take care of your mom and your sister. Always look out for your sister and gently protect her when you can. As a man you need to respect women and treat them with dignity and honor. The world will look at women with lustful passion and see only the outer beauty. God looks not at outer beauty, but at the heart. When you look at a woman do not look at her to evaluate her beauty, instead see her as God’s creation and another man’s future wife. Chasing after girls is a waste of time, and satan uses this to distract men from being leaders. Don’t fall into this trap. God will satisfy your desires in due time, just be patient and wait on Him.

(Insert Proverbs here)

You’re almost an adult now, so we’ll need to set some goals for you in the coming years. I know life has been hard not having a father, but God has designed this to be the very best for you. Here are some examples of goals:

• Share the gospel with a friend every few months.
• What are your gifts? Choose some things that you want to work on and develop. 
• Try something new that you've never done before. A new sport or instrument. New activity or club? 

I remember you being very much like mom, full of passion for everything. Lots of energy. Do you enjoy sports? Arts, dancing?

Share my testimony…

Instruct them on Ecclesiastes and Proverbs. Use them in family worship and read some each night.

On Being a Single Mom of Big Kids

I once read that studies show that children of single parents of the same gender tend to do just as well as those with two parents. But children who are of the opposite gender of the single parent have a harder time. AJ is a wonderful boy. As his mother, who adores him, I think he's extraordinary. The other day, we were taking a walk together chatting and even though I've known him his whole life, suddenly I was struck: Oh my gosh. He's amazing. It still fascinates me how unique each child is. Though you're the one who raised your child, they still each have their own personalities, abilities, mind, and uniqueness that God gave them. 

But I have to say I am certainly having a harder time raising a child of the opposite gender as me. With Gracie Olivia, I can relate to every stage she's going through. I can relate to how she thinks. Often, when she doesn't know how to perfectly articulate what she's feeling and thinking, I get it. With AJ, it's no longer as simple as it was when he was 7 years old and we completely got each other. He's becoming a man and that is something that's still foreign territory to me.

Dinner with AJ

At Café Habana, the aroma of shredded pork and fried plantains danced into our noses. On Tuesday, I took AJ out for dinner just us, while Gracie Olivia was at dance. AJ has been researching the effects of radiation on the human body for a science fair. Radiation like cell phones, microwaves, etc.

I savored my sweet drink. AJ's research sounded fascinating.

AJ smiled at his red Shirley Temple and sipped it. "Maybe that's why Papa got cancer."

The Latin music playing overhead seemed to fade. I swallowed. "I don't think so."

One of the books AJ was reading mentioned several times Motorola, the company Andrew had been a systems engineer for. Was AJ researching this because of his dad? Or was the research reminding him of his dad? I forked my gluten-free calamari.

AJ took a bite of his Cuban sandwich. "But didn't he design and work with radio towers? What about the radiation from there?"

Images of Andrew's beloved radio towers flashed before me. Sometimes Andrew took me hiking to see a view of all the towers on Mt. Wilson from a distance. One night he took me to the base of some towers in the Santa Monica Mountains in Southern California. I got tired standing there in the chilly dark and tried to sit on one of them, but it was too sharp. I remembered how during his college internship with Motorola, he said he was brought to the tallest building in L.A. At the top of the building, he climbed through a door where the radio tower was. There was no roof to stand on; you just leaned half your body out the door. Andrew loved his dream job.

When AJ was younger, it seemed I knew his every thought and understood him completely. I didn't think he looked like his dad and he didn't particularly remind me of him. Rather than a math whiz, the bookworm had the rich eyes of a poet and spoke with precocious insight, reading people's facial expressions and emotions. But in the past year, he's begun looking like his dad. He's even started getting the same type of haircut Andrew had when I first met him, though most of the pictures AJ has of Andrew are from his shaved head years. AJ likes his hair buzzed tight, while keeping the front long. It's like his dad's preferences are just in his DNA. As AJ spoke about radio towers and used the vocabulary from his book they were the same words Andrew used to use about his job. AJ looked and sounded like his dad. A knife twisted in my heart.

I wanted Andrew to be the one teaching his son, having these discussions with his "mini-me." I wanted AJ to learn from his dad daily what it looks like to be a godly man. I wished AJ could be discussing radio towers with his dad and following in his dad's footsteps in character, faith, and career.

Images of my cousin, Krystene, and I hours before Andrew's funeral flashed before me, as she had brushed pink blush onto my cheeks in my bathroom. The sun shone through the sky light onto the warm, yellow walls. Outside, bright sunshine bounced off the thick snow blanketing the Minnesota ground. Exhilarating. So painfully beautiful. All of it. Our love for each other. Our home.

At Café Habana, a dark cloud loomed above my head. 

In Minnesota, I was 28 years old. People here outside of NYC are just starting their lives at 28. They still live at home with their parents, not even married. I felt like I was dying at 28... Andrew died before he was 28. We already had our own home, our own family.

At the Cuban restaurant, a trombone screamed from the speakers. The bongo beat relentlessly. I felt the old cloud descending upon me. It twisted into my throat and burned my eyes. I pressed a napkin to my cheeks. The waiter passed behind me and refilled my water. The fog squeezed my chest, keeping me up at night. 

I have fear all the time that I won't be able to transition AJ into a man when he doesn't have a father daily in his life to look up to and model. AJ not having a dad to take him to soccer. It hurts that he's not able to observe his parents' relationship, something which gives security to children. I fear that he won't live for Jesus and worry that he probably would if he had his godly father who loved us. I think AJ probably carries with him a form of loneliness for a daily man in his life. I fear because it's really hard for AJ to look around and see everyone with their dads, while he doesn't have one.

I'm studying 1Peter right now with some ladies from my church. 1Peter 1 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. I cling to it, because it helps me to battle my fears. That I don't have to fear, because my hope is not in a man but in God, who never fails us. My joy runs parallel to my sadness. I fellowship in the present with God. His fellowship feeds me, quiets me, and gives me great joy. And 1Peter 1 reminds me of the great hope that I have even deeper fellowship ahead of me with God in eternity. 

AJ and I at a Red Bulls soccer game

I have to pray pray pray that God will meet AJ in all these areas of need. God promises that He is a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to the husbandless. Please also pray for us!

After we got home from our dinner at Café Habana, AJ said, "Mom, I forgot to tell you. I wanted to say thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a good time and I love you." He grinned at me.

12 Things I Love about A.J.

When A.J. turned 12 yesterday, he asked me what I gave to his dad for his birthdays.

"Oh!" I suddenly remembered. "For his 24th birthday, I wrote your dad a list of 24 things I loved about him." So I decided to write 12 things I love about A.J. here:

1. A.J. is always thinking about other people, their needs, and how he can care for them. His grandparents actually call him when they need help with something. He'll rake and throw out the garbage for them, go with my mom to Costco and bring her groceries in. His servant-hearted tirelessness reminds me of his dad.

2. He loves to cook. And when we've made a bunch of food, he'll say, "Mom, we should ask Lola and Lolo (the Filipino terms for grandma and grandpa) if they want us to bring some over. Maybe they'll want some."

3. He holds the door for strangers and brightly says hello to them. They warm up to him in surprise, especially because I had just mumbled a tentative, eye-averting hello to them.

4. I love how rich his eyes are.

5. I love how passionate he is about soccer. He constantly has a soccer ball between his feet, or is reading a book about soccer, is studying videos on technique or watching professional soccer on T.V.


6. He's a really fast runner. And he is always moving. That kid's got energy.

7. He talks constantly and has always been that way. It tires me out, but I love that his heart and his thoughts are never hidden from me.

8. While he's very mature about caring for others, he acts very much like a kid. He loves to play with his friends. And if he starts to act up, it's usually because he needs a weekly date with his mama. He needs my undivided attention once in awhile. We'll usually do something simple like take a walk at the mall, buy a frozen yogurt, and walk around the bookstore. Then outside we'll kick the soccer ball around, while he attempts to teach me some soccer technique like a "rainbow." Or, he'll run errands with me, like at Trader Joe's. We'll walk beside the Hudson River and he chatters the whole time about past observations about animals, insects, books he's read about space, or some object he took apart (I hear that his dad was always taking things apart too when he was a kid figuring out how they worked). When I'm undistracted and able to enjoy him (and not worry about all the things we have to do and activities to drive to), in that moment I am struck: "I have the best kids on the planet! Jesus and my kids. I don't need anything else." And I sigh full with happiness.

9. He's quick to forgive. And he asks forgiveness easily.

10. He has always loved the Bible since his youngest years. He supplements our family Bible reading with his own Bible reading with very little prompting. When I asked what he liked most about youth group, which he just started this year, I thought he'd say playing with his friends. But he said, "The Bible teaching." He also started sitting through the main service this year, as Sunday School only goes up to 5th grade. When I missed the message to serve in the nursery, he later asked, "Mom, have you listened to the message yet? It was really good." I asked him what he liked about it. "Pastor Won explains the Bible in a way that I understand. And he's really funny too. He kept talking about sheep."

11. He fixes things for me. Ikea furniture? I hand it to him to figure out. The clasp on my purse that came loose? "Mom, can I fix that for you?" The moment I gave him permission, he disappeared for a plier. I walked away and later found it all fixed. I wear that purse every day now.

12. He is still obsessed with turtles. This obsession has been at least since first grade, maybe even  
      earlier than that. (In fact, his sister and I so associate A.J. with turtles, I almost think "A.J." is

Found this photo on my phone that A.J. recently saved

synonymous with "turtle.") Perhaps it's because every spring when they were little we would watch a family of turtles sunning on the logs in the pond a few steps away from our house in Minnesota. We'd tell stories about the grandparent turtles (the 2 big ones) and parent turtles (the medium ones) and the baby turtles, as the littlest ones plopped into the water. "The grandparents are too tired to swim in the water!" Perhaps because we would watch turtles shimmy a hole into the grass on our front lawn, hide their eggs in that hole, and then carefully return the grass so that it looked identical to its original state. And now, when A.J. gives a presentation on turtles for multiple weeks (without regard for what the actual assignment is), and he makes his classmates listen to him for 10 minutes instead of the 3 minutes, I tell myself, "Well, maybe he'll get his PhD in turtles one day."

I love that kid. Whether all the things above change, I love A.J. because God gave him to me, made him, and made him wonderful.

***

As the second entry ever of this entire blog inspired this post, I found myself looking back on old posts. While in recent years I have often struggled with deep discouragement and felt so weary as a single mom, I am reminded that wow God was so faithful to my kids when we were in the depths of cancer (according to one commenter back then, A.J. was an energetic runner even then).

God made Our Little Blessings a joy to us in the midst of the darkest days. And years later the Lord continues to be faithful to my children and I.


(If you've never read this blog before, or if you'd like to remember past posts, I've linked to three entries at the beginning and end of this blog entry about Andrew and then my kids when they were little and their parents were dealing with cancer.)

Hard Mother's Days

Mother's day has usually been agonizing for me ever since Andrew's death.

I think it's because Andrew told me he was going to teach my kids to honor their mama on this day, just as his dad taught him to make breakfast in bed for his mom when he was a kid.

I think it's also hard because he was the only one who loved my kids as much as I love them, and we used to enjoy them so much together. But now as a single mom, it's just SO difficult. It does not get easier after all these years. It just changes. And while people try to help me, I honestly don't understand my boy's mind anymore or how to help my son become a man.

I think this day also spotlights all the dashed dreams we had for what we thought would be our growing family.

I think this is the first year I've been able to articulate why Mother's Day is one of the top three triggers a year for me. Perhaps it is because my church publicly prays for those who are having a hard time today. And also because when they see my tear stained face, friends at church will gently probe and ask the uncomfortable question of what exactly is it that makes it so hard for me on this day.

I appreciate that while my church celebrates mothers, they also acknowledge those who are hurting on Mother's day. Below is a video they played this morning:

The Beautiful Mess of Mother's Day

7 Years and Newness

Seven years after my husband's death, I live a new life now in North Jersey, just a few minutes outside NYC. It seems appropriate that my church, Maranatha, is celebrating it's 6th anniversary on Feb. 7th. My husband died on Feb. 7, 2009, just one year before Maranatha's birth. The shared date seems like a kind of resurrection for me. When I became a Christian at 12 years old, I prayed that the Lord would provide a church that would be a family to me and that I could go to freely and serve at. When I was 18, the Lord picked me up and brought me 3,000 miles away to Grace on Campus at UCLA, an incredible fulfillment of 6 years of prayer. After I graduated, I lived all over the place, but always a homesickness aching in my chest. I got so used to the ache, it no longer occurred to me that moving back to NJ would do the trick. Besides, what church would I go to? But eventually, as a single mom desperate for family support, I finally did move back to NJ. And someone from Grace on Campus (GOC), though she graduated years after I did, left a comment on a blog post to visit the church plant that she and a bunch of others from GOC were a part of. This church embraced me from day 1 and cared for me as if I were family. This church was 15 minutes away from the house that I grew up praying since I was 12 years old for a church family. I finally feel more at home than I ever have in my life. The homesick ache is finally gone. I finally live near my family and have a church that is my family as well. I remember I wrote in a survey in college that my dream place to live would be where my family and Grace on Campus were in the same place. I have never experienced such a deep sense of community since Grace on Campus until I came to Maranatha. It is amazing to me that the Lord made what seemed only existed in a fantasy so many years ago a real place, though I had nothing to do with it coming about. My family and my church family are now only 15 minutes apart.

I wish everyone who knows me now could have known Andrew, the person who shaped me and taught me so much. I wish they could have known the father of my kids, who together with me laughed at and enjoyed them when they were little (not my size) and irresistibly adorable.
So at the very least, I'd like to share this three minute video of us back when the sun was shining down on us. When the world was all as it should be. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

A video of my interior world for the first year after Andrew died:


I've lived so many places now. At GOC, I fell in love with Andrew Mark. That was the last place I felt like people knew us as individuals. In WA we were the newlyweds. And then in Minnesota, we were the family with the young husband who has tongue cancer. And then I was known as the sad young widow. Now back in NJ, at my church (of 1.5 years), they know me simply as Grace. She has two kids who are pretty much as big as her. But she's just one of us, or so the twenty-somethings treat me. It's funny, here in the Northeast, 80 percent of NYC is single. People's priority is their career. They get married much later. So the idea that in other parts of the country (such as the Pacific Northwest or the Midwest), people might have 3 kids and a mortgage by the time they're 28 years old is absolutely foreign to them. It occurred to me today that by East Coast standards, it's like I lived my thirties when I was in my twenties. And now I am living my twenties in my thirties. I hang out with my twenty-something friends in NYC while my parents watch my kids and I feel carefree, something I never really experienced post-college until I moved back here. I wanted to share with you this video that memorializes Andrew's life. I think you'll enjoy it.

This past fall, I posted a link to a letter Andrew wrote to be read posthumously. Someone from church said, "It's funny. You've lived this whole other life before you got here and we don't even really realize that about you." But I wish they could know that about me.

I love my new family at Maranatha. Tonight, two friends asked if they could come over because they wanted to be there for me on the weekend of the anniversary of Andrew's death. Earlier in the week when they kept asking me what I wanted to do this weekend I was pretty unresponsive. I didn't know if I wanted to do anything. The pain has blunted. (Although being a single mom is just as agonizing as being a single mom is. The pain of raising my kids without a loving dad continues to be awful.) But they continued to pursue me. And they said, "Well, if it's okay with you, we're picking up dinner and coming over."

After a yummy meal, they let me show them videos of my life with Andrew. I wish everyone at Maranatha could have known Andrew Mark. They would have loved him, as those of you who knew him did. They would have known him as one of the most humble men with a pure love for Christ, who as a former prodigal son grasped the gospel better than most of the people they've ever encountered. And as a result, he was incredibly gracious, patient, and forgiving.

There are those of you who knew him before his overnight transformation, and those of you who knew him only afterwards. But I think both of those groups knew him as the guy who was always genuinely interested in the person he was talking to. His friends were creative and interesting in every variety. He was always curious about each of them and the things that excited them. I wish those of you who know me now, could have known the person who, other than my mom, impacted me more than anyone. Who shaped me and taught me so much of what I know. I share this video below not because I haven't moved on with my life. I absolutely have. But Andrew, the father of my children, was a huge part of my life and why I am who I am today. Just as I would never forget my family, who shaped me, I will never forget Andrew. I will always be grateful to God for our six years (5 years married) together. And I think I might always want to share him with everyone, because if he was here, he'd be greatly impacting you today. By continuing to share about him, I think he will still sharpen you in your love for Christ and the gospel more. In this video, I made all the cuts according to the lyrics in the music--the music is so appropriate in retrospect. This is the original post for this video that explains the video more:

http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2011/01/seven-years-since-that-day.html

If you'd like to watch his memorial service, it is here:

http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/2011/02/two-year-anniversary-of-andrews-death.html

Love, Grace

Andrew's 34th Birthday

Today Andrew would have turned 34 years old. Rather than sad, I'm usually thankful for Andrew's birth on this day. I find myself eating Vietnamese food. Probably because Andrew and I used to get pho on date nights when the kids were babies. It used to cost us $13 total in Everett, WA. So today we got pho again. It hit the spot. I felt just fine. Then I went home, sat in a bath tub, and cried my eyes out.

This morning, I met another young widow. She unexpectedly lost her husband over a year ago. She has one little boy. I've met a lot of young widows over the years. One thing I see in them is the grace of God sustaining them. And though it's unimaginably difficult to be a single mom, she smiled through tears and said, "But we do not grieve as those who have no hope" (1 Thess. 4:13).

Tonight at small group we sang a praise song. And I thought, "I wish Andrew was here so I could sing this with him." And then I thought, "I am singing this with him. Except he's standing before Jesus doing this!"

Sometimes before bed, 9 year old Gracie Olivia sits up in bed and looks at me. "I just wish I could remember something about my dad!" She was 2 when her father died. "But the one thing I do remember is that I loved him with all my heart." She bursts into tears when she says this, usually once a year out of nowhere. It's a sad cry that I never hear her cry except when she thinks about her dad. I hold her and we cry together. Then we watch videos of her dad from our blog together. After this happened again last month, we took a walk, my arm wrapped around her shoulders, her arm wrapped around my waste. She said, “I’m happy. I mean, I’m not happy that papa died--I’ll never be happy that papa died--but I’m happy that you watched videos with me of him.”

AJ still shares with me memories of his dad. He was four when his dad died. AJ grieved for a few years. He's okay now. But it has never been easy for AJ to not have a dad or to not have anyone to teach him how to be a man every day. 

Tomorrow Andrew will be re-buried in Princeton, NJ. (His parents, who also live in NJ, asked if they could move him from MN). In light of that and that it's Andrew’s birthday today on September 11th, I thought I’d re-share the letter he wrote for us to read at his funeral. I hope it blesses you 

smile emoticon

http://graceandrew.blogspot.com/…/funeralblog-letter-after-…

Love,
Grace

My First Publication!

AHHHhhh!!!!! My first publication ever!!!

I have wanted to be published my whole life. When my kids were babies and I only had 45 minutes a morning to write, and I was too scared to dream anymore, Andrew kept telling me (and I later found in his journals) that he really believed that I should be published one day. And this is my first step in the publishing world! My short story--a true story--just came out! 

Two months after Andrew died, my purse was stolen on a trip to Florida. Read about how God was a Husband to the husbandless and my miraculous encounter with my thieves in my short story, "A Bible for a Thief."

My story is included in James Stuart Bell's Anthology, Encountering Jesus (published by Baker/Bethany House). Buy your paper or digital copy of the book at Barnes and Noble or Amazon.

Five Years

This is a big anniversary—5 years since Andrew went home to be with the Lord. This means I have been widowed for as many years as I was married to Andrew. Normally, this time of year, a heavy fog smothers me.

My friend, who was a young widow, told me that it took her five years to feel normal again. I was fearful that this would not happen for me. But it turns out, for the first time, I am okay on February 7th.

I made sure to be home in America at least a week in advance of the anniversary. It's important to me to slow down and remember him on this day. But maybe it helped that I wasn’t in the country during the weeks leading up to now. Or maybe it’s because last year the month preceding the 4th anniversary was horrible. Maybe all that sadness got out of my system then.

Sometimes, I’ve heard families talk about a beloved father who passed away years ago. They do not pretend he never existed or that he didn’t raise and nurture them. They speak lovingly and wistfully. When you lose your husband, it’s similar. My love for Andrew didn’t die when he died. I will always love Andrew and I will always miss him. And just because pain may come with his memory, I will never pretend he didn’t exist or that I didn’t live that portion of my life with him. That would not honor his memory. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want your loved ones to pretend you didn’t exist either when you die.

I may not talk about him as often, because remembering the loss of him may always be painful. I may not live my life in reference to Andrew anymore. But when I do smile at the good memories and talk about them, I will never apologize for it. My time with Andrew was the most alive years of my life, and I will never apologize for them. Rather, I celebrate that God gave us that time.

Also, my children are the fruit of those years, and I am grateful. They need to know they had a godly father who loved Jesus and loved them.

When Andrew Mark was 20 years old, he turned from a life of rebellion and living for himself and fell in love with Jesus. No one could deny his overnight transformation. Something unheard of and only miraculous. Many of you witnessed this and could confirm it.

So conscious of God's forgiveness and mercy to him, he exercised the same to me and our children everyday. His life became a picture of the gospel--its power to forgive, save, and to transform.

Five years ago today, Andrew went to be with the One he loved more than anyone, more than me, more than our kids, more than this beautiful planet made by his Maker.

I loved Andrew and I always will. Always miss you, love.

Watch videos of him and check out this video of his life:

Four Years

Thought I would re-share this video on the anniversary of Andrew's home-going:


Music by Ingrid Michaelson, Sort of

And this was the message 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 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 

AJ, Gracie, and I have had an eventful year. After living in Minnesota for 5 years, we sold our house and moved to New Jersey. Now, we live 9 minutes from one set of grandparents and an hour from the other set. Minnesota was a wonderful place filled with wonderful people, but also the place where we experienced the hardest time of our lives. This new start has been just what we needed.

AJ is in 2nd grade and will turn 8 years old this January.

Gracie Olivia (she’s decided to go by her middle name of “Olivia” in school) is in 1st grade. 

The schools in our town of West Windsor/Princeton Junction (the town has two names. It’s weird like that in an old state like New Jersey) bus the kids to different schools throughout the town. We did not do this on purpose, but rather than the school down the street from us, the town happens to bus both the children to Dutch Neck Elementary, the same school that their father, Andrew, went to as a child.

It's been 14 years since I left North Jersey, where I was born and raised, for UCLA. After all these years, New Jersey no longer felt like home. Plus, we live an hour from old friends and my numerous relatives. But as time has passed, I’ve experienced how wonderful it is that they are a car-ride away, rather than a yearly plane ride. We do miss Minnesota’s snowy wonderland, but not the biting cold! Saying goodbye to those we love in Minnesota was hard, but AJ and Gracie say that they are so glad that we can see their grandparents all the time now. After these years of being a single mother, this makes my heart so relieved and happy. We are also making new friends here, causing it to feel more and more like home—a new home, not one of my old childhood nostalgia or yesteryear, but a new home. Please keep in touch. And if you are in the area, we would love to see you.

With much love,

- Grace, AJ, and Gracie Olivia Mark

Change

I've made a decision. And in the past few weeks everything has come together very quickly for this decision to be fulfilled.

The children and I are moving to New Jersey.

I do cry a lot about leaving Minnesota, which felt truly like home to me. But I am convinced that, regardless of my emotions, returning home to New Jersey is the best place for my children right now. I know their eternity is at stake and they need more than one stretched-thin mama to pour a heart full of love into them. Andrew's family adore AJ and Gracie and have that additional love to give that my kids so desperately long for and need. Also, I can see that though Andrew's parents and siblings no longer have Andrew, they do have my children as an outlet for their love and commitment to Andrew.

This has been a very difficult and emotional decision for me, as there are many of you there that I love and am terribly sad to leave. I feel, too, I am saying goodbye to Andrew, at least in the way that my home is a picture of the life I thought we would have together, but cannot.

A few weeks ago, the children and I went to the apartment building I had chosen that is less than ten minutes from Andrew's parents. As I sat with the lease before me, suddenly, my brain slowed. I held the pen in my hand and stared at the line where I was to sign, but I couldn't remember the question I was about to ask the customer service woman who was helping me. I heard my breath as I inhaled and exhaled. And then images flashed before me. I saw Dr. Yueh when we met with him in his clinic. It was January 2009, after we returned from our two months of alternative treatment in California and a giant hole had opened on Andrew's neck. And Dr. Yueh said, "We have now reached the end stage of your disease."

I looked down at the lease. My throat was closing. I saw the blackness behind my eyelids with each blink. "I think I might pass out," I said. The customer service woman ran and got me some water. I closed my eyes. It is so clear that this is what is best for the kids, I thought. It was time for me--and healthy for me--to start with a clean slate in a setting that does not continually remind me of loss, suffering, and utter disappointment. I signed the lease.

My house is all staged to sell. During my phone conversation with my real estate agent Sunday, I took a walk.

"I'm going to list your house on the market tomorrow," she said.

The air outside was hot and still.

"This has got to be hard for you, Grace," she said. "Of course you might feel panic, because you thought you were going to raise your kids in this house and live with Andrew in it for always." And suddenly, she had put words to feelings. An image flashed through my mind of children playing in our yard, the sun glinting off their soft hair. For always. Words Andrew and I said to each other years ago during engagement whispered: "I can't live without you." My chest burned. I held my breath so that she didn't hear me holding back tears.

That night, I put the kids to bed and fell asleep. Shortly after, I awoke, not breathing, my chest tight. "Lord," I called in the dark, gasping for air. "I don't want to die yet! I'm not ready to die yet! Please don't let me die!" And then I wondered why I thought I was dying when I was now breathing. I realized I had been dreaming about the last few minutes of Andrew's life, when his family and I surrounded his hospital bed and the last minutes in which he gasped for breaths.

How strange, I thought, I don't think I ever dreamed about his death until now.

I didn't know how to tell one of the most special friends I have ever had, my neighbor Melissa, that we were moving. She is like the female version of Andrew to me--stable, rational, loving, encouraging, and so much fun. We always laughed together, she always got my humor, and she always worked to imagine  herself in my position so she could understand what I was going through. Even recently, she said when her husband goes away for a few days, she always tries to imagine what it is like for me.

When Andrew first died, she'd call me every day to check on me and take the route that was past my house when she was driving, just to make sure no one had broken in or anything was awry. She hardly knew me, but she said she begged God to show her how she could serve me. She said God had given her such a heart for me. After the kids' nap, when the hollowness could have eaten me, knowing that Andrew wasn't coming home for dinner, in desperation, I'd risk slumping onto her doorstep with the kids. It was a busy time before dinner, but she would invite us in.

Weeks after Andrew's death, when the house was empty again and both Andrew's and my parents had returned to New Jersey, Melissa drove by and invited us to make snowmen. I was frozen, still unable to grasp what had happened to our family, and she was holding my hand and showing me what a normal mom--not a caregiver with a dying husband any longer--does with her children.

I always admired how capable she was, how her emotions did not overwhelm her during the day, so that she could stay on task; but how she didn't compromise caring for others for her task-list. She was rationale, but never cold, rather one of the most relational, loving people.

She tried so hard to love me and be a compassionate listener when I was most in pain, when at times I was almost in despair. It would have been so easy for her to get frustrated with me or to give up on me. I kept expecting for her to tell me to buck up, but instead, she exercised love and gentleness through it all. It couldn't have been easy for her. Other times, when I was confused or overwhelmed about anything and couldn't think through my emotions, she spoke loving words of reason and truth to me.

I saw her do it with her other friends too. When a friend was going through difficult times, she would tell me how she thinks what her friend needs most of all is for Melissa to love her through it and pray for her.

When I finally told her that we were moving, she said, "I had all these dreams of homeschooling with you down the street together next year."

"I know," I said. "I'm trying not to think about it though." I blinked the image out of my mind and tried to imagine positive images to look forward to in New Jersey.

"I guess some dreams have to die," she chuckled.

I snickered. "Yeah, some dreams just have to die. I should put that up as a sign in my house. That probably would have helped me."

We laughed.

I remind myself that just because I'm going to miss a lot of people and cry about all the things I love in Minnesota, it doesn't mean God isn't calling me to move back to New Jersey. Being sad to say goodbye is a natural part of moving and a good thing. Being sad means you've been blessed by special people, blessed to live in a wonderful place. And so, I have to hold onto what is clear thinking--and that is that my children need their grandparents and those that adore them in New Jersey.

Love you all.

Toads, Grasshoppers, and Fireflies

I like for my kids to spend as much time outside as possible. Aside from how stimulating it is and how good it is for them developmentally and creatively, the sun and fresh air is the healthiest thing. I also love how much they learn from their explorations. During the school year, AJ in particular spends hours outside exploring with our next-door-neighbor, Adrien, finding various subjects to study.

This past year, the Lord often had AJ's discoveries parallel what we were studying in homeschooling. For instance, one week we got a bunch of books out on frogs and toads. And then the Lord sent a tree frog to sit on our window and croak at us two days in a row. The kids were climbing over each other to watch it on our window. Below, AJ found a really large toad in the backyard:

There's Gracie in the background eagerly watching over her brother's shoulder.

Another week, the Lord sent two different turtles to lay their eggs before the children - one in our backyard and one in our front yard. We found the one in our front yard just as I was going out to pick up Gracie from her morning kindergarten bus stop. We were mesmerized by how deep the turtle wiggled its legs into the dirt as it dug a hole. And then how the turtle replaced the dirt and grass on top of the hole, so that you couldn't even tell that the grass had been messed with. This makes sense in terms of camouflaging the hole from predators. 

For a few weeks, AJ was obsessed with studying and watching ants. So we got a couple of books on them and anywhere we were, even if we were inside a building, AJ would notice an ant and tell me what he read about ants in his library books. And as he would hold my hand as we walked to the backyard together, he would say, "Mom, have you ever noticed how the dirt around ant hills are different than regular dirt?" And he explained how the anthill bricks you see outside an anthill is dirt mixed with ants' saliva (I think?). Anyway, I love to listen to AJ explain to me all these amazing things about the world around us, even if I don't retain the infomation as well as he does =P

This week, AJ found a grasshopper. While I was in my room changing, apparently, he ascertained a water bottle, inserted the grasshopper, and I found him outside with a fork, poking holes into the foil he had covered the top of the bottle with so the bug could breath. Since we were planning a library trip for that day anyway, he then begged me to immediately take him so he could find some books to tell him what he needed to feed the grasshopper. (Don't worry. We did release the grasshopper by the end of the day.)

And in July in New Jersey, one must always catch fireflies! We caught the male ones flying around and Gracie found a couple female ones in the grass. And the fireflies lit up for each other, as we watched them before bed.

The Portrait

The other day, I was playing the Moonlight Sonata (mostly because there aren't many pieces of music I still remember) on the piano at Andrew's parents' house, where we are spending the summer. The Moonlight Sonata's notes always unfold a story to me of a man who lost his love and the agony he endures after her departure. As I played, I looked up at the family portrait hanging above the piano. It was a blown up picture of Andrew's parents with Boaz (their dog), Jon (Andrew's brother), Jen and Mike (his sister and her husband), and Andrew and our family as we sat before a glowing white background--blankness behind us.

The portrait was taken at the beginning of January 2007, days before we would fly back to Washington state, where we were living at the time, and Andrew would receive his tongue cancer diagnosis. It was days before our reality would be exploded by pain.

As I played the piano, I stared up at Gracie, sitting on grandma's lap. Gracie was nine months old at the time, in shoe-less white stockings and a dress with a black, velvet bodice and red satin skirt. Her feathery hair had only grown as long as a boy's but a little pink clip accessorized it. What a loud voice she had at the time! I would get frustrated when she'd scream, so persistent, but Andrew would say, "Maybe she'll be a singer one day." She was Andrew's girl. "She's so sweet," Andrew said. And he would hold her, nuzzle her, and she would always surprise him with a peck on his lips. She reserved those pecks on the lips for Andrew alone.

Andrew sat beside his mother. AJ, nearly two years old, stood between Andrew's legs, while Andrew held AJ's little wrist. Andrew smiled, his chin up, his mouth partially open, so characteristic of him, the flash of the camera hitting his arm, casting a glow behind him. Andrew was the only one with that glow, as if the glow would soon overtake him and he would be the only one leaving the picture.

And then I looked below the Mark family portrait at the pictures crowding the top of the upright piano. Framed pictures of AJ and Gracie as babies when our lives were sweet and typical, pictures of them as preschoolers in the frozen months after Andrew's funeral. And beside them were pictures of their little cousin, Ethan, Andrew's sister's son, who is now the same age as AJ was around the time of the family portrait. Ethan's parents call him, "little man," the same nickname we used to call AJ when he was a baby. And Andrew's sister, who looks like like she could be Andrew raised from the dead, only with long hair, smiles with her husband at Ethan like he must be the most amazing, cutest baby on the planet, just as we looked at AJ, and just as most parents look at their babies. The Moonlight Sonata ended with its dark, lonely tones. In moments like those, I see a picture of what we lost--the four of us; a whole family, warm in love with each other.

Most of the time, I find my inner chatter whispering: "Buck up. Don't think about it. It's not that bad (...or is it worse than you'll admit?)" But in moments like those, in inconvenient moments like weddings, where that atmosphere of love and excitement saturate the air, it all rushes at me--all the hope and excitement I had felt only to end in utter disappointment. The Lord uses those times to show me what's really in my heart. And that "Buck up. Don't think about it. It can't be that bad," isn't rejoicing evermore. In fact, it's not Christian at all. But it is very American. And it is very self-reliant. After all, we are a nation that built itself from self-reliant immigrants. People who left behind their parents and cousins and grandparents in the old country to escape harsh governments and trampled economies to provide a better life for their children. America attracts people with incredible determination, who are willing to work for what they want. That is the culture a democracy like America propagates. And we take that self-reliance and apply it to our Christianity.

But in self-reliance, if we aren't honest about what we're really thinking or feeling and what's really going on in our hearts, we can't drop it all at the foot of the cross. We won't cry out to Jesus for rescue from our hopeless situations, if we convince ourselves we aren't hopeless, but can handle it all ourselves. Christianity is not an excuse for ignorance or telling ourselves just to shut up and stop using our brains.

Most of you aren't young widowed, single moms. But in reality, you are in a "hopeless" situation like me. The Lord says, "Be holy for I am holy." And He says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all your strength." And He says, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Well, have you done that perfectly today? No, none of us can even approach infinite perfection. "No one does good. Not even one." That's why we need the cross. Because only Jesus has done that perfectly. So I'm not the only one who has to lay out my hopeless--as far as it depends on ourselves--situations at the cross. We all do.

I'm still struggling. Please pray for me to hang onto what is true. To trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding.

And that the Lord would continue to meet my children as He promises that He is a Father to the fatherless and a Husband to the Husbandless.

The Questions

Since looking at our 2007 family portrait the other day, questions have been bubbling in my heart--Are you really going to continue to believe this Christianity, no matter what happens to you? No matter how long you hate that your kids don't have a dad? No matter if even more difficulties occur?

And, Do you really believe in hell? Do you really believe that people who reject Christ will experience worse than what you've experienced without even the hope of death to end it?

But then what immediately came to mind was, I could have said 5 years ago that I didn't believe someone would be widowed, while she had two small children that adored their dad--in fact, I think I didn't believe God would allow that to happen to us--but that didn't stop it from happening. Being in denial, doesn't make something untrue. Just because we Americans love our air conditioners, fresh towels, and instant comfort to cushion us from the harshness of outside, doesn't mean that in many areas of the world there aren't orphans kneeling on the dirt eating grass before they starve to death. Just because we choose to be in denial of pain doesn't make pain un-real. Reality does not depend on us to believe in it.

We Americans, so self-absorbed in our comfort, may be afraid to ask difficult questions, may be afraid of reality, but God made reality, He's not afraid of it. He can handle our hard questions. He's the only One who can answer them. And stuffing them down doesn't mean they're not there. Those questions, though unspoken, will still flavor all the choices we make. So why not bring them to the Lord to purify and grow us in our faith?

This morning, during my private worship, I had to confess to the Lord that I felt angry and bitter. The only way for those feelings to change is for us to repent of them, so that the Lord might cleanse, purify, and change our hearts.

I often think of a couple at my old college Bible study, the Clarks, who when pipes were bursting in their home and everything was going wrong one week, they made a list entitled, "Things to Consider All Joy." And underneath they wrote down all the things that were going wrong. I also often think of how the Bible says "Give thanks in everything." So sometimes, when I'm struggling, I will make two lists. Here is mine today:

Things to Consider All Joy/"Everything" to Give Thanks in
- that my kids don't have a dad to love on them and teach them all kinds of things (...This might sound silly but when AJ uses the men's restroom, I worry because I can never go in there and teach him how to use a urinal).

Things to Be Thankful for
- that my kids do have a godly grandfather and uncles that adore them, who do play ball with them, though they're dad cannot
- the gift that Andrew's family is to me
- for the safety that I feel when I'm with them
- for my children. I adore them. They are so wonderful.
- though my feelings may say otherwise, the truth that He promises never to leave nor forsake me
- that Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so

Family

Though Andrew is gone, I am very close to his family.They still include me in everything and treat me as their own. His family has stepped in as much as they can. Unfortunately, we live very far away from them in Minnesota, while they live in New Jersey.

Andrew's parents always visit us every year for Gracie's birthday. They would come for AJ's birthday in January, but we are usually visiting them in New Jersey or my parents and I are visiting my brothers in California around his birthday. In past years, sometimes my mother-in-law (I still call Andrew's family my "in-laws," as I'm not sure how else to refer to them, at least in a succinct manner. I mean, I wouldn't call them my husband-who-died's-family...I don't even think that's proper English.) would even come to our house and help for a couple weeks in the summer. But now that Lydia lives with us and can watch my house, we have been spending summers with Andrew's family in New Jersey.

All of the young widows I know, or know of, throughout the country (only a handful) returned to their parents when their husbands died. It is so incredibly difficult being a single mom, while both my parents and Andrew's parents live in New Jersey.

As I've mentioned before, I stayed in Minnesota, because Andrew told me before he died not to sell our house. At this point, it's been 3.5 years since Andrew died. Andrew and I usually moved every two years. So, I think if he were here, for all I know, we might have already moved, perhaps not outside of Minnesota, but moved nonetheless. So I think we'd be free to move to New Jersey if we chose to. It's just complicated now that we've built friendships, routines, and a life in Minnesota after sticking it out these past few years. We have neighbors my kids climb trees and look for bugs everyday with, our lake that we love to walk around, and a sense of community. I love Minnesota and how it's a great place for my kids to grow up. In fact, our town of Eden Prairie was voted by Money Magazine as the #1 place in America to live in 2010 - due to affordability, proximity to a city, community-life, etc. Minnesota feels like home.

They're such amazing children. And they should feel that by being surrounded by tons of love, not just by one stretched-thin mother. The kids' uncles and grandfather teach them about what it is to be a man, play catch with them, and treat them with love and affection. I have always longed desperately for that type of love to be a regular part of my children's lives. I long to be not the only person that loves them sacrificially and with all my heart. It unburdens my heart when I see how eager they are to hang out with my kids and that they love them nearly as much as I do.

My children's best interest is what's most important to me. Please pray for wisdom for me.

Above, Andrew's brother, Jon, is alternating between playing catch and baseball with the kids.

AJ has turned away from the game to take a picture of the sunset. 

Andew's sister, Jen, stopped by with her baby, Ethan

Running from cousin Ethan