Hope

I have a little story to tell about the past 3 1/2 years. It's just a small part of my life's story. It all started with 3 year old Kira in February of 2009. Barry and I were able to be in the room with her and her family when they removed her from life support and let her join Jesus. Then, in April 2009, I was able to be with Mike in ICU when he died. In July 2011, most of my family and I gathered around my grandfather as he breathed his last. In March 2012, we were able to be with Barry's mom as she made the decision to be removed from life support. Just before, she mouthed the words "take care of him" to me. Then in August 2012 a dear friend of mine died at 31 years of age. I know it's not a happy story, but it's my story. This year has been a challenge. As I write this, I am a month away from grad school graduation. Three of the 5 losses I have experienced have been during school. I actually had to take an online exam or two while in the ICU waiting area with my mother in law. I began my last semester of school just days after my dear friend died. I don't tell you these things to ask for sympathy, merely to paint a picture of my story. The other challenges are simply life itself. Our country is at a crossroads, one that I am fearful of. We are in a moral, economical, and most importantly, spiritual decline. We are all surrounded by hurt, loss, suffering, frustrations, lack of patience, waywardness. I long for the day I am reunited with my loved ones and the Lord himself. I struggle with, what do I do with the days that I have? How can I be different? How can I be a light in so much darkness? My own sense of personal loss is great. What do I possibly have to offer to others? The answer is simple. Hope. I have hope. I have hope for things unseen. I have hope in the words of promise I read from the Bible. I know many feel it is an archaic, obsolete book of history. Funny, though, when I read about history, the stories cannot be told independent of one another. And the biblical principles that applied to ancient times are still applicable today. It's pretty simple, actually. Hope. It is a choice, though. I could choose to have no hope. To just give up and accept the status quo or what I see before me. But I refuse to accept a downward spiral. I refuse to accept defeat. I refuse to accept the darkness. With a spin in the right direction, a spiral can be reversed. There are battles that will be lost (our physical deaths) but the war over death has been won. Eternal victory is available. There is always light at the end of darkness. But it is a choice to see this way. "...the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitude of the heart." Hebrews 4:12. So here's the deal. In my hurt, in my loss, in my struggles, I have found this deep seeded need to help, to reach out, to pray. Everyone has a story. How can I pray for you? What is your story? If you are not a Christian, that's ok. It is not my job to make you a Christian, but to simply show you Christ's love through me. It's up to you and Him on acceptance. But what I want is to pray for you, listen to you, love you, HOPE for and with you. You have a story to tell. Tell it. Even if your story seems dark and dismal, it can and will give light to someone else. By giving your story a voice, you create a path, an avenue, for someone else to open up and tell their story because it's ok. If there is any way I can pray for you, please let me know. My email address is rmw4jc@yahoo.com.

The healing power of tea and lox

I admit it. I am tired. I am in overload. Since my last post, I have recovered from surgery, driven nearly 6-700 miles a weak for work and clinical, gained about 10 lbs, buried my mother-in-law after a month and a half long hospitalization, decided to resign from my dream job, had my Jetta die, and, well, the list goes on and on. April 6 was a special date for 2 reasons. Most importantly, it was Good Friday. It was also 3 years ago that Mike wrecked. Barry is in Pennsylvania enjoying some much-needed down time. Zuzu is with her grandparents. I am working all weekend. I was not at my current place of employment when Mike died. No one really knows the significance of this weekend nor the angst it causes. Another admission. I am having a bit of a pity party of one. I have felt the bombardment of the world. The news is awful. Many people around me are, themselves, experiencing very difficult trials.

What does all this have to do with tea and lox? Just prior to writing this, I was doing mostly nothing, while waiting for the next call to come in, and feeling a bit sorry for myself. I have been in prayer and in the word a lot this week to provide the spiritual nourishment I need to cope. I have neglected quality physical nourishment as my mind just can't plan that well. Angels come in all forms. This time, it happened to be in the form of a real, live flying one. One of the pilots I work with offered my partner and I bagels with lox and tea. I reluctantly accepted his offer, as I did not want to take his food. Anyway, in about 10 minutes I was presented with a cup of hot tea and a freshly toasted bagel with his homemade lox. One bite and one sip provided more nourishment than I have felt in weeks. What was the big deal? I'll tell you. It was an angel of nourishment and reassurance God sent to me in my moment of need and weakness. Was that my pilot's intent? I don't know. He's just a nice guy. A nice guy that God used to remind me of His steadfast presence wherever I am or whatever the circumstance. I asked God to make his presence known to me, especially at work, and, well, there ya go. He did just that.

Out of the ashes,
Rhonda

Stoked for Mike

Sometimes you have to be wounded to be healed.

As we enter the year 2012, the realization is that I am entering my 39th year; the total number of years Mike was given. Many of us make new year's resolutions and such. I have never been one to make resolutions. I have personally embarked on a crazy career journey that has made me focus on it and little else. My career choices are due in great part, to Mike. But I want to make this year different, better, not about me. So I got this revelation that I am going to be stoked, this year, for Mike. With that proverb came some pretty cool heart lessons. Since Mike died, I have been unable to listen to many heart-felt stories from others, whether good or bad. My heart just has not been able to "stomach" the good or bad tears for anyone else. I get enough of that at work, therefore, radio, written, or other stories of people's trials, tribulations, and celebrations just have not worked for me. I can't say I have been hard-hearted, just bandaged. When we are sick and on the mend, we have to be a little selfish and take care so we can, later, give a bigger and better part of ourselves. Wow! Did I just say that? Did I just now get that? YEP! After all my years in health care it took a big fat AH-HA moment to realize that healing takes time. And you have to do it "smartly." I'm not saying that I am smart. In fact, just the opposite. I am pretty clueless when it comes to my own healing and understanding. So I was listening to the radio about another person's story, which was positive and tearful. And I allowed myself to tear up with them and be proud. And it didn't hurt!
Is my Mike-size hole filled? Never! Is the wound mending. Yes. It's covered with a scar. That scar is a reminder. It's what stokes me to live a wounded and mended life. You can't really have one without the other, can you?

I challenge you to be stoked for Mike. Now, I know Mike may not be everyone's motivation like he is mine. But, maybe, just maybe, he can be your inspiration to find your motivation. After all, he lived to the fullest. None of us that knew him can deny that.

I miss him more and more everyday. In some ways I hurt more than I did when he died. It's not the broken bone kind of pain it was then. That has gone. It's a deep, visceral, ache to be with him. Hence, I am stoked. That fuels the fire to keep him alive and releases that visceral pain. With the wounds comes the healing, if you allow it.

Live, laugh, love, play. Get stoked for Mike!
Rhonda