House on the Rock

It's January -- the bleakest, darkest month of the year. Far away from any school breaks, summer, or fun holidays. Void of all sunshine, outside time, and light. Januarys have always been hard for me. If you've been on this blog for a while, you likely remember the Whole30 pit of despair circa 2022. Or perhaps the perpetual sunlessness that brought seasonal depression last year.  This year, I was determined to go in with a bit more gusto. After all, I'm coming off two of the most depressing months of my entire life -- no exaggeration -- and I'm ready to turn a corner. I'm ready for things to start looking up.  This requires quite a bit of effort. Joy is a lot more hard-won than a lot of people consider. While Christians should be the most joyful people on Earth, that's not necessarily our default setting. Jesus was known as the Man of Sorrows. Over a third of the Bible is made up of desperate lamentations -- righteous complaints to God about the current state...

 It's been quite a start to 2024. I have already taken more medication, spent more time on bedrest, been in more hospitals*, and dealt with more physical pain than all of 2023 combined. And it's Day 4.  (*Hospitals for myself, that is. Certainly spent a good amount of August-October in hospitals. Apparently the turning of a calendar does not alleviate the presence of hospitals from one year to the next.)  I woke up on the 2nd around 1:00 AM to abdominal pain more intense than anything I have felt in my life. Heating pads, medication, and belly rubs couldn't touch it. Twice I told Joe we needed to go to the ER, only to talk myself out of it and fall into a shallow, fitful sleep. Profuse bleeding stained our bathroom floor and I secretly hoped I would die. Not suicidal -- just that much pain. Our gracious (wonderful!) boss nearly insisted I take the whole week to heal -- physically and emotionally. Considering I couldn't even get out of bed, I didn't fight her on it. ...

It's my mom's first birthday in Heaven....I think. Perhaps a more realistic truth is that this is her first time ever not having a birthday. After all, why celebrate the passing of another year in the place where there are no years? She is not bound by time -- she's tasting eternity in all its fullness, and it is a glorious celebration that will never end!  I can't get over this! In years past, we would celebrate Mom by groggily rolling out of bed (having stayed up too late the night before), rushing over to Nana and Papaw's, eating deli sandwiches together, awkwardly singing an off-tune Happy Birthday, and then sheepishly handing her some lame present that didn't make the cut on Christmas morning.  Every single second she's experiencing now is sweeter than our best efforts at celebrating her. There's no groggy oversleeping -- she's entered perfect rest. There's no rushing through a pitch-in meal -- abundant feasting is forever hers at the table ...

 28 Years // A letter to my dad --  Twenty-eight years ago, you stood at the altar as the most gorgeous bride -- Carrie Boswell -- strode down the aisle to stand by your side. You grasped her hands, looked into her eyes, and told her that you would love her for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. And for many years, you guys got to experience the "for better" and "in health." You did everything together. The life you shared was so fun. I remember being in college, looking at pictures you two would send of Jeep rides, ice cream dates, and your little escape to Disney World (leaving your helpless children at home)! I often thought, man, I hope I get to live out my vows like that. There was no trace of falling out of love -- you seemed to love each other more every single day.  And then August 8th hit, and all of the sudden, we were ravaged by the "in sickness" and "for worse." For the next three months to follow, you dropped everything ...

  December 1. December 1.  That was the date playing over and over in my head.  I'll take a pregnancy test on December 1.   My period was several weeks late, but I was no stranger to disappointment in the pregnancy test realm, so I really didn't want to rush the process. Joe and I had been trying off and on since early in the summer, sometimes hit-or-miss in months long before that. I was often convinced we were pregnant, only to wake up the next morning and have our hope halted by the punch of a period starting.  When my Mom was diagnosed with cancer, our urgency heightened. I desperately wanted to see my mom hold our child. To become a grandma. To be my first phone call in the middle of the night and the woman by my side throughout long hours of labor. Surely she had a couple years to live. Surely we could do this. And then the doctors gave her a week. We tried all the more frantically, hoping I could go through even the most preliminary stages of pregnan...

 I bring to you: 2023! This is my sixth annual recap blog, a yearly recollection of the faithfulness of God as we trace His nearness and goodness month by month. This year's nearness and goodness feels more hard-won and powerfully prevalent than ever before. 2023 -- let's go! January: If I remember correctly, the sun didn't shine for thirty days straight, except a brief five-minute window when the world broke open to blue and we stopped class to stare outside. Students sword fought through Romeo and Juliet by day, I studied theology with friends and played Scrabble with my husband by night. We celebrated the baby showers for two of my dearest friends who told me they were expecting just two weeks apart. February: My least favorite month was marked by the sweet wedding of Nate and Hanna, growing in community as a church family, wintry walks, attempted plant-raising, and celebrating my sister's senior season of gymnastics. Trimester two transitioned to trimester three and...

It's the first Christmas since my mom went home to be with Jesus after a lightning-fast battle with a cancer so aggressive it had spread to her brain before it was even detected. Many things about this season are challenging -- planning family dinners without her being there, putting up the tree (which we always did together), and picking through our stockings that she so thoughtfully stuffed the night before.  We've worked hard to maintain the joyfulness of many traditions in this season. We still decorated cookies, we still put up the tree, we'll still gather in the living room tonight to read The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey , and it will be sweet. In fact, the birth of Christ is even sweeter this year. I have come to treasure the incarnation -- God being flesh and dwelling among us -- more than ever before amidst a year filled with so much heartbreak.  I find, however, absolutely no solace in the empty lyrics of secular Christmas music. In fact, I can't stan...

We're now in the club no one ever wants to join -- the "lost a loved one club," the "dead parent club," the "club of people marked by deep and lasting grief." Call it what you will, we're different than we were back in August. And the passing of my mom is now several weeks behind us, but I'm learning that grief is not a river you cross and come up on the other side. It's a river you're thrown into and stay in -- forever. And sometimes the waters are shallower, calmer. Sometimes they rush with a torrent so strong it feels like we'll never come up for air. But regardless, the river has become our new normal. So sink or swim, we're in it for the long haul.  But we've learned a whole lot in this river, and there's a lot that I think can impact our life and ministry if we let it. It seems a bit inevitable that Joe and I will end up in ministry in some way. Perhaps Joe will pursue the path to pastoring, or perhaps we'll be...

 Thanksgiving Day // Three weeks ago this morning, my mom took her final breath and woke up in the arms of Jesus. The days since have been full of learning new rhythms, finding new people to call on my way home from school, and clinging to the faithful nearness of our Good Shepherd. I miss her so much it feels suffocating, and yet at the same time, I could not be more happy for her. Our family often reminds each other that Mom is having no bad days. Our Cracker-Barrel-catered Thanksgiving feast was scrumptious, but it doesn't even begin to compare to the feast she's been enjoying since she got there: the perfect amount of perfect flavors in the presence of a perfect God. How we long for the day when we all get to join them!  As much as we will mourn today and in the many days to come, we can't neglect giving thanks ---  1. We are so thankful for the family, friends, church family, co-workers, and community that surrounded us over the past several months. Your prayers, lo...