Battling at Christmas

Merry Christmas eve eve eve eve! The past couple weeks have been a struggle filled primarily with defeat. December isn't just difficult because of Christmas, it's also the month of Mom and Dad's anniversary of  18 years and Dad's 41st birthday. It's tough. I go through some days wondering why I feel so blah, but it's mostly the season. 

And the fact that I quit fighting to live. I quit reading the Bible because I had neither the time nor the desire. It was empty, so what was the point? Church was the same. I really wanted to be feel joy and growth, but I found it hard to even listen. Most nights I would go to bed with tears blurring my sight because I was just so tired, sorrowful, and empty. I didn't realize it, but I was wallowing. "Woe is me," and all that. My excuse was that God wanted me to dwell in Him, so all I had to do was lay there and stay alive. That is a lie. God never ever wants us to be lazy or feel sorry for ourselves; because someone else always has it worse. So I told Mom about my pitiful feelings which felt very real. Praise the Lord she didn't coddle me or try and sympathize. She rebuked me Biblically, "Take captive every thought." I couldn't let those lies of sorrow and selfishness swallow me. She prayed and my thoughts raced. That night as I got in bed, I realized that I do need to dwell in Christ always, but never wallow. Life is a battle. It's painful and difficult and horrible at times. But the bloodiest of battles is so much better than the emptiness of just sitting there and letting life roll over you. I'm going to lean hard on my Savior and press on. I'm going to fight with every ounce of my strength those empty days. I'm going to read God's Word when it's the last thing I want to do. Why? Because I don't just want to survive. I want to really live. Because life is too short to do anything else. 

At this point, I shall step off my soapbox and share what this Christmas looks like for us. In memory of Dad, we covered our oak tree with tacky colored/ blinking lights. After the Iron Bowl, so many friends showed up to help out. It looks amazing. My siblings and I have finished school for the year and are ecstatic. We get to travel and visit family, my favorite part about Christmas. Dad is gone, but the memories, laughter, and traditions live on. I absolutely love seeing my many cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You don't realize how big your family is until they're all in one room opening gifts. And this Christmas, we celebrate not only with our direct family, but with our "extended" family. Our friends have become so precious to us. Because they don't have to be there for us or celebrate with us or check on us, but they do. It's a crazy, no sense, godly love. 

This Christmas will be filled with sweet memories and tears, but even more so laughter and love.

The House on the Sand Went SMASH

I haven't blogged in a while, and it's not because I have nothing to write about. It's the opposite actually. I've been writing more than usual, just in my journal. Because I get so confused and overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts, that I may say something I regret.
I thought my life was on it's way back to a new "normal." A nice schedule I could stick to. As long as the plot didn't change too drastically, I would be just peachy. But, unfortunately for my tidy outline, I'm learning what "Not my will but yours be done" really means.
I was thrown a curveball. I was blindsided. My "perfect" world was once again upset. I looked at the problem saying "What? Now? Of all times! I'm just now getting back on my feet!" I looked at God and said "Really? REALLY!?" Like they say, when it rains, it pours.
Once my immediate anger, disbelief, and pain subsided some, I saw what the real problem was. Me.
Before Dad died, I didn't know it, but he was my rock. He was unshakable. He would always be there for me. And then I found out that my rock had been shattered. So, I laid my foundation elsewhere and I didn't even know it until an "earthquake" hit. When my new rock was shaken, I got upset again. I had placed my faith so strongly in something temporary. I had high expectations of my new world. And not surprisingly, it didn't meet them. Why? I expected unmoving, never-ending perfection. And no one can meet those expectations except my God. My dwelling place. My rock.
I'm reminded of the Bible story I have heard ever since I was a small child. I even lead the kids choir in a song about this story. It goes like this:
The wise man built his house upon a rock, the wise man built his house upon a rock, the wise man built his house upon a rock and the rains came tumbling down. The rains came down and the floods came up. The rains came down and the floods came up. The rains came down and the floods came up, and the house on the rock stood firm.
It goes on to talk about the foolish man who built his house upon the sand. And then the kid's favorite part: The house on the sand went SMASH!
The foundations I had attempted to lay my complete trust, hope, and future upon fell apart because they were made of sand. So when my house fell apart, I kicked and screamed at God because He had failed me! But, no. He hadn't failed me, I had built my foundations wrong. God is the only one who will NEVER fail me. He will ALWAYS be there for me. The Bible reminds me over and over (Psalm 91 & Proverbs 3:5-6) that God is enough. He is all I need. Yet, time and time again I seek help elsewhere.
I have to remind myself daily: God is enough. God is enough. God is enough.

Grieving and Caring Part 1

This blog is going to be a part 1 or 2...or more if I feel God lead me to. I want to dedicate this one to the grieving. Whether you've lost someone recently, or decades ago, I hope you will be able to relate to this in someway or another.
When you lose someone you love, something happens in your heart. When they leave, it's like a chunk of you heart is ripped out with their passing. And you're left with a gaping wound. At first it bleeds a lot, it hurts, it's so fresh. When Dad went home, I woke up the next morning and felt like I was walking through a fog. What do I do next? How do I keep living? How can I find a new normal? So I got outside and ran. As I ran throughout my hometown, it felt like a ghost town. I wondered, was it always like this in the morning? Or was this the first time I'd noticed? It was so quiet and strange. I looked up at the perfect blue sky and it seemed almost cruel. The only man in my life was gone, yet the world just kept turning like nothing happened. One minute I wanted to laugh because I knew God would provide. The next moment I would burst into tears, because how could I keep living?
So I tried to pretend nothing had happened. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted to go to Wednesday night church with friends, babysit all week long, and go to Sunday morning worship and sing in the choir. If I kept living life like I had before, maybe nothing would seem different. Maybe I wouldn't hurt so much.
But that's not how it works.
So instead, I chose the other extreme. I fought the normal flow of things. Summer was easy because I felt free and flexible and able to cope with the pain. But then school started. A new routine. Without my daddy. Without his white car squeaking into the driveway or his keys jingling when he opened the door or his elephant footsteps pounding through the house. NO! This isn't what I had in mind, God! The first month, I dragged through every school day. I all but counted down the days until summer 2014. I was in zombie mode. Life pushed me through but I refused to live.
Some people told me to let go of the past so I could move forward. No. I couldn't let go of the past. But I had to stop living in it. I had to stop wishing with every breath I took for things to go back to how they used to be.
So instead, I used the past to guide me to my future. Through my dad's death, I learned more about him. More that I want to be. He was a man of deep integrity, loyalty, and he always strived to be the best he could in Christ. I couldn't let go of the past, but I could use it to mold my future. I could be more like my dad.
Everything that has happened is helping, even now, to make me who God wants me to be. Every tear I shed, every painstaking step I've taken, is drawing me closer to the cross. It's making me who I am. I am learning that I am a writer- I love what I do. I am a protecter- I look out for those I love. I am weak- I have a God who is oh so strong. And I don't have to drag through everyday because sometimes I just need to lay my head on my Father's shoulder and let Him carry me.
So for the grieving, your roller coater of emotions is normal. It's ok to laugh one minute and bawl your eyes out the other. It's ok to feel empty and weary, let God strengthen you. Whether it's the perfect day or the hardest day, dwell in Him.

Grateful for the Little Things

They say you're never really grateful for something until it's gone, but I was always grateful for Dad in general. I told him I loved him often and what he meant to me. I just never realized that I should grateful for all the little things. Because that's what I miss the most.
I miss the way his keys jingled when he walked in for lunch. I miss the high pitched way he would call "Sissy" with loud feet coming toward my room on budget day...time to pay for cell phone bills. I miss the way he would be hunched in prayer as the choir sang. I didn't know that I should be grateful for those things. But now I am. Now I'm trying to be grateful for the little things in every person.
When I find myself thinking "If only Dad were here..." He'd know what to do, what to say, how to help. And at that point, I sink into a state of depression. I go into "my life as fallen apart and everyone should pity me" mode. But then, I realize something. My life is still good. More than that, it's amazing! I am blessed with a mom who sings to wake me up in the morning, with siblings who make me laugh like no one else, with families in my church who have gone above and beyond the call do dusty to bless me and my family.  Even as I type, there's a godly man outside teaching my brother to shoot a gun. I am blessed!
There can be so much good in the midst of tragedy. Not only have a learned to be more grateful in my dad's death, I've learned more about myself. If he hadn't died, I never would've realized how much I loved to write, and never ever would've started this blog. I never would've grown so close to people in my church or repaired a broken friendship. I probably wouldn't have shared Christ with Mr. Dorico in Washington DC. If I could have my dad back, I would do so in a heartbeat, but I can't. So instead, I want to focus on the good that comes out of heartache. What satan intended for evil, God has used for good.

Learning and Treasuring

Ups and downs. Good days and bad days. They're all a part of life. But if I focus constantly on the bad moments, I forget to live and enjoy the beautiful moments.
Wednesday was probably the hardest day I've had since July. That's why I blogged, but it didn't help quite as much as I thought. I lost control more than once and couldn't stop crying. Usually I cry, feel better, and move on. But not Wednesday. I couldn't stop thinking about Dad or hearing his voice. I wanted to feel better and move on, but it was just one of those days.
Thursday, I was on top of the world. It was just a great day! And Friday was even better because it was Jonathan's 6th birthday. As a special treat and a new first, I took Jonathan golfing, one of Dad's favorite hobbies. We had a blast (except when I got conked in the head with his club)! We talked and played and remembered. I asked him what the best day of his life was. His answer: Caleb's birthday party (a friend from church). I asked him what the worst day of his life was. He replied: If I got beat up. Crazy funny and amazing memories!
Through days like this, God is teaching me to learn from the and days and enjoy the good days. Besides, we wouldn't know what good days were if we never had a few bad ones.

Battling for Control

A while back, I had to read a book called "Confessions" by Saint Augustine. And I feel the need to do that in this blog post. Not so much for anyone else's benefit, but because I need to sort through all I have felt and experienced lately, and writing is how I do that.
So, I somewhat begrudgingly must admit that I am a control freak. I mentioned in my last post how when I saw my dad lying there and and there wasn't a single I could do, I realized how out of control life really is. Well, I'm still struggling with that. I know, because I lost control the other night and I freaked out a bit. It was the youth 5th quarter at our church and the theme was blacklight dodgeball. Let that sink in a minute. Blacklight dodgeball, as in dodgeball, in the dark, with some glowing shirts and shoes here and there. I was having a blast, locating the ball, dodging, and blocking. We were on the third or fourth game, I believe. I never saw it coming until BAM! A bullet of a ball to the face. I dropped to my knees and sat there. Just sat there. My nose began bleeding, and still I was stunned. Some friends came to my rescue and almost literally dragged me into the kitchen. I am now both ashamed and greatly amused by my reaction.
In the days following, I mused over my ridiculous reaction. How could I lose it like that? I began to realize how strong my desire for control truly was. Then one night, I read Job 11:7-9. It says, "Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty? They are higher than the heavens- what can you do? They are deeper than the depths of the grave-what can you know? Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea." Wake up call! I am once again reminded that I do not have to be in control. The Gods who knows everything- more than I could possibly comprehend- is in complete control. Why must I keep fighting?
This should end on a happy little note. I learned my lesson and I move on. WRONG.
Fast forward to last night, when I expressed to my mom my constant state of fear from lack of control. Every time she leaves the house, I'm afraid she may not make it back. Every time I tell someone goodbye, the thought that it may be my last goodbye to them haunts me. I am very afraid. But I long to be strong! I long to have the kind of faith that moves mountains! I mean, I survived the death of my dad, life should be a breeze from here on out. But it isn't. It's a constant battle. And I want to win standing on my own two feet.
So, I went to bed last night, and Psalm 91 comes back into my mind. "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High God, will rest in the Shadow of the Almighty. I will say to myself "The LORD is my refuge and my shelter, My God in whom I trust."" I thought that dwelling in God was just for the hard, painful times. But nowhere in that verse is that implied. God reminded me, and has reminded me constantly since last night, that I am supposed to dwell in him all the time. I don't have to fight to live. I don't have to fight for control. I can rest in God's arms. I can dwell in his safety.
Since that realization, life hasn't been a breeze. It hasn't been all smiles. It has been a continual battle. A battle to totally depend on God and not myself. This very afternoon, I was on the brink of utter despair. I go to God's word and Pslam 20:6-7 speaks to my aching heart, "Now I know that the LORD saves his anointed; he answers him from his holy heaven with the saving power of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God." (emphasis added)
Wholehearted trust and dependance don't come easily for me. But I am tired of being afraid and tired of trying to be strong on my own. I have a God who will set me free, if only I will let him. It may seem like a risk, it may seem tiring. But God has it ALL under control.

Perfect Loves Drives Out Fear

Ever since the night I saw my Dad on the ground, I have slowly let fear enter my life. The scariest part for me that night wasn't when I found out he was gone, it was when he was lying there and I had no idea what was going on. I am afraid of the unknown. I am afraid of what I cannot control. And that night, I realized out uncontrollable life really is.
Tuesday night was hard. It had been a great day and a fun evening, but when I got into bed and turned out the lights, fear paralyzed me. I heard noises that made me jump and creaks across the wooden floors that terrified me. I got up, left my room, and balled up on the living room coach. The tears were flowing and I didn't try to stop them. I opened my Bible to none other than Romans. I began Romans chapter 1 and got to verse 9. It reads, "God whom I serve with my whole heart..." I had it underlined because I thought I meant it. I thought I could serve God with my whole heart. But could I serve Him willing to give up the people that made up a large part of my life and who were in my heart? My life was scarred when Dad died because it felt like a chunk of my heart had been ripped out with his death. If God would take my dad, what else would He take? And more than that, could I trust Him again? Multiple times in the Bible, Jesus says, "Fear not..." 1 John 4:18 says, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." I believe that love and trust go hand in hand, and fear is their opposite. That night, as I crawled into my Mom's arms, pieces of that verse played over in my mind. Yes, I loved God. Yes, I wanted to trust Him again. Even if it means that I lose everything I love. Why? Why trust the one who took my Dad early? Why trust the one who let my heart be scarred? Because He is the same one who was willing to lose it all for my sake. He is the same one who wept over the death of a friend, the same one who prayed for God to let Him be spared from the cross yet said, "Not my will but yours be done." Jesus has offered to take my pain and fears and scars and wash my heart clean.
If "perfect love drives out fear," I want to seek to love my Savior more so fear controls my nights less.

Confession and Forgiveness

For the past week, multiple people have approached me and encouraged me concerning this blog. They have told me to keep writing, and I wanted to, but I felt I had exhausted so many subjects. What could I write about that other people would want to read?
So, I've decided to be completely honest. To write about my family, my friends, my new life. Not so much for others to benefit, but to help me remember and understand. Because writing helps me see clearly.
Jonathan has decided to play Upward basketball again this year, and for me, that's a little scary. You see, Dad played more than softball, he also golfed and was fantastic at basketball because he was fast. Although teaching and coaching are my passion, I'm new at it. Dad was supposed to teach Jonathan to play. He was supposed to help him get over whining and get better. Pity party alert.
So Jonathan and I headed outside to do some dribbling drills. He did the first one perfectly because it required quick hands. The second one, I asked him to dribble a figure eight in and around his legs. "I can't do it!" He whined. "I'm hor-wible at this." I smile at him and tell him he has to practice to get better. "Humph" was his reply. So, we move on to a shooting game called "Around the World" where he had to shoot at different places. And if he missed, he had to go back. Well, he missed. "This is no fair! You're cheating!" I roll my eyes, losing patience. We continue with practice which consists of him complaining and me being less than encouraging. The fact that I would laugh and tell him to get up when he yelled over a "broken ankle" and a "hurt finger" didn't help the matter.
Finally, I lost it. "I don't have to be out here helping you, but I am. So quite whining! Toughen up!" I stormed inside. A mini sop-opera had ensued.
I peaked outside a while later to find Jonathan against the fence crying. I toke a deep breath and went to talk to him. I ask him why he is crying, but he doesn't know. I do. It's the same reason I used to cry in sports (and occasionally still do). He wants to be perfect, is hurt, and misses the real coach. I break. I tell him I'm not Daddy, but I'm trying. I want to help him get better, but he has to want to get better. I ask him what he thinks. In true drama form, he responds, "I need to think about it a while."
I head to the backyard and try and figure out how Dad would handle this. How would God want me to handle this? Patience. Encouragement. Love.
Then it hits me. I realize how blessed I truly am. What if Jonathan hadn't been born? I'd have no peach fuzz to teach basketball too, something Dad and I loved to do together. I can't be Dad, but doing things we loved to do keeps the memories alive. And what about Julia and her love for softball? I get to help her practice and get better, but that's a privilege, a blessing. God didn't have to give me two siblings with a love for sports, but He did. I don't have to practice alone. I don't have to fight to remember special moments with Dad. They flood back to me in sports. I add that to my list of one thousand gifts.
I find Jonathan where I left him, his face splotchy from crying. I sit next to him and we talk. We compromise. I promise to be encouraging and patient, if he agrees to give me a %110 and fight through the pain. And just like that, practice resumes. When he gets down, I fight to lift him up. When he cries in pain, I help him push through it with him laughing.
I am so blessed.
256. Solved argument
257. The joy of when Jonathan makes a basket
258. Tears of confession

Crazy, No Limit, Unselfish, No Sense Love

Before Dad died, I knew I wanted it have real friends. Not just the laugh and have fun friends, but the friends who would be there for me when I was having a bad day. When a death as tragic as this happens to a family, everyone responds from all walks of life. Why? Usually pity and human based love. What do I mean by human based? I'm getting to that.
The weeks following Dad's death, a lot of people backed off. We would get over it. We would find a new normal. We've done well so far. The cards slacked, the random stop ins slacked. But they didn't stop.
One church in particular comes to mind. Other than churches in Abbeville, there was this one church that responded with crazy over the top no sense kind of love. I think we knew personally one family that went to this church, but other than that, they had been off our radar. For weeks, different people from this church would send us notes of love and prayer and blessing. I was overwhelmed! It was more than some card saying "sorry for your loss we are praying." This was the body of Christ moving! Reaching out from one church and town to another! What a testimony! What love.
Last weekend was my sixteenth birthday and I had a party with mostly teens but some adults. Family came from all over Alabama! And even friends! The drive for hours just to be there for a little party. Why? They love me! They love my family!
I realize so many teens my age talk about "love" and "best friends" but y'all, they have no clue! I had no clue before all this happened! My church keeps loving on me and praying for me and they are as thrilled as I am that we don't have to leave Abbeville!
This love overwhelms me. I keep thinking "Why do they keep loving me? I can't pay them back. I don't deserve this!" The answer is that this is the love of Jesus at work! And I can never pay them back and I could never deserve this. Before everything happened, I knew I could never repay my parents, but they were my parents and that was their job. When someone did me a favor, I knew I could pay them back. But all this, it's unbelievable! My church family and friends took time off to teach me to drive, to take my brother golfing and hunting and fishing, to personally write me a song, to set up sound equipment for my party, to ask me how they could pray. And that's just the ones I could name off the top of my head! This is Proverbs 18:24 is action, "One who has unreliable friends will soon come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."
There have been moments when I almost didn't like the fact that I couldn't pay people back for their love. But then I realize they are just following Jesus' example. He showed the ultimate love by making the ultimate sacrifice. He gave His life for me! I can never ever pay that back! But I am grateful with every breath I take, every laugh I utter, and every tear that falls. "Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow."

An Attitude of Gratitude

This week has been a roller-coaster of emotions. One minute I feel on top of the world, the next minute there's an emptiness  in my heart. And the pain won't go away. I wonder when it will go away, how I can make it stop. Memories flood my mind and I am consumed with the past. I am more than reliving it. I am desperate to stay trapped in it. I don't want to move on.
But there's one problem. That's not living. That's just not dying. Think about it; just because I'm alive day to day doesn't mean I'm truly living life. Just going through the motions. And I want it to stop. I WANT OUT! I WANT TO LIVE!
But how? First, I had to realize the problem. I'm selfish. I'm weak. And the solution is...what?
A precious friend gave me a book this week called "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. And it has helped me realize how to live again. Truly live.
Consider the Fall  of Man. What happened? The "Sunday School answer" is man disobeyed God. At the root of that disobedience, however, was ingratitude. Man wasn't really grateful with what God had given him. It wash't enough. He wanted MORE.
I wanted more. I want a Dad on earth. I want a perfect life. And I want my relationship with Jesus to fit in a comfortable little box on the sidelines.
Wait a minute, where in the Bible is the word "comfort" used to describe our relationship with Jesus? Simple! It isn't. Instead Jesus says "Take up thy cross and follow me." That cross isn't nice and sanded down or floating on a cloud to ease the weight. No. That cross is heavy and painful and we are called to follow Jesus through mountains and valleys. And you know what? I wouldn't want it any other way. Because when I am weak, He gives me strength. When I am hopeless, He gives me hope. When I am lost, He leaves all others to bring me back home. And I am grateful.
I have so much to be grateful for, but this past week, I was lost in the past. I didn't want to be grateful, I wanted to have the perfect, imaginary life. But it wasn't fulfilling. It was empty.
I am grateful for this house I've lived in for eight years, and get to keep living in. I'm grateful for siblings who make me laugh and help me grow in Christ. I am especially grateful for my mother. Because I can't imagine many other women handling this the way she has. She hasn't stopped living. I know I can always depend on her, not because she is strong, but because she wakes up early every morning to spend time with her strong Savior. I'm eternally grateful for friends and our church family who have yet to leave our sides. I'm grateful I had fifteen fantastic years with the most godly man I know. I can't keep living is those memories, but I certainly will never forget them.
Yes, there are moments when I try to be grateful and the loss still cuts like a knife. I know, however, that my Shepard will bring me home safely. And I can keep living, truly living, in a fulfilling gratitude.

More than Chance!

Praising God this morning for another way He provided, and I didn't even know it at the time.
When Dad was taken to the hospital, mom rode with him in the ambulance. Some friends took our van and I told them that Flowers hospital in Dothan was probably where he was headed. That's where Julia and Jonathan were born, and I believe where I got my stitches when I was 4. Anyway, that made the most sense at the time, thus we sped to Flowers.
As soon as we left the ball field, we knew we had to contact family. Lydia and a friend called our grandparents, and I texted aunts and uncles. My moms parents live fairly close, so they immediately headed to Flowers with us. Somehow or another, Gigi (Moms mom) and Mom got into contact and were told to go to the Medical Center. So Gigi contacted Muc (Moms brother) and Uncle Muc knew we were headed to Flowers. I can't remember how he put two and two together, but he immediately called my cell and told me to go to the Medical Center.
I can only imagine how much more horrible it would've been if the girls and I had ended up in the wrong hospital. Yes, we would've realized our error, but 30 minutes too late.
God provided once again through my Uncle, who doesn't live anywhere near us. You could try and blame this on chance of you want, but we were all so panicked and frazzled, I believe only God could've turned that vehicle around. Praising God continually!

Desires of My Heart

Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart."
When I was five years-old, Jesus became the desire of my heart, but I didn't truly know that. I only knew that I had felt Jesus "knocking on the door of my heart" and I wanted to let him in. I wanted to one day be in heaven with Him. I had no idea what that verse meant, I still don't, to some extent.
It's easy to look at that verse and blame God for many things. When I was 12, the desire of my heart was a best friend. I looked at God and asked him why. Why couldn't I have some one to talk to? To hang out with? To dream with? I wanted a girl my age, my grade, and my convictions. Did God give me all that? Thankfully, no. God gave me the desires of my heart by changing them to his desires.
Often people fail to look at the next verse. Psalm 37: 5-7: "Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him..." God is not my genie I go to when I want something. At the same time, He is not looking down from heaven, concerned with "bigger problems" than my own. God has a master plan, an ultimate design. And when I became his child, over time, my desires have become to glorify his name and help fulfill His perfect plan. His desires have become my desires.
That night, it feels like it happened long ago, I prayed "God, the desire of my heart is for my Daddy to live. To watch me graduate. To walk me down the aisle. To play with his grandchildren." I would be lying if I didn't say that that is still my heart's desire! But at the same time, I have joy in watching God's plan play out in my life. Watching how he is providing for my family, and for my church in an overwhelming way. At times I feel like I'm living in a movie or a book. Can all of this really be happening to me? I mean, both the good and the hard? Sometimes I want to burst into tears. Other times, I want to burst into song. God is faithful! He provides for his children! My life, my family, my dreams, I have committed everything to God! And the wonderful thing about it is, in Him I can't "mess up" or "fail". He has had it all planned out since before time began. I'm just along for the ride. And what a beautiful ride it is! There is truly no better place to be than in the center of God's will.

The Proudest Moment: Washing Feet

My Daddy was an amazing man, and I had many obvious reasons to be proud of him. But I can remember one moment in particular that my heart nearly burst with joy over his example.
I believe it was a Saturday morning in January 2012 and it was time to clean out the shed and freezer room. (Blah!) First, Dad decided we would start with the freezer room where we store little bit of everything. First we had to get everything out, sort through it, then put the needed stuff back. Mom was running back and forth between cleaning and house work. And somehow or another, she and dad had a little tiff. I can't remember what it was about but dad was frustrated and stressed and mom got exasperated and went away to cool off before feelings got hurt.
That night, Dad called us all together before we went to bed because he had something to say. He turned to mom and apologized to her for getting frustrated, then turned to us and apologized for arguing in front of us. I have never seen my daddy be more of a man than in that moment. Letting go of his pride and coming before his family willing to admit he was wrong.
No one likes to admit when they are wrong, let alone apologize. And I will certainly agree that it is not easy. Somehow, apologizing makes us feel weaker, because we realize that we are not perfect and that hurts our pride. God, however, did not call us to be high and mighty. Instead, his son Jesus set the example of lowering himself and washing others' feet.
Who's feet has God called you to wash?

Joy Comes in the Morning!

One month ago, my life was shaken. Dreams fell apart, plans were destroyed because the unthinkable happened. My Daddy was received into heaven.
Please recognize that I used the term "shaken" and not "destroyed". This is because my dad was not my life. He was not my hope or my all. That position belongs completely to God. I was, however, terribly shocked and broken before God. I still I have trouble believing this is all real.
There have been moments of anger, overwhelming sorrow, and confusion. But the joy of Christ has reigned overall. Psalm 30:5 says, "For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain at night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." I thought I knew what this meant beforehand, but now I understand it is a whole new light. All the pain and sorrow have a purpose, and I got to see a glimpse of that purpose while in Washington DC last week with family friends.
God told me before we left that He wanted me to share the love of Jesus with someone. I went into panic mode. If you know me, you know I have a little box I like to fit into and stay there. Everything has a schedule. And besides that, I'm not the type to go up and talk to strangers. I like building a relationship before I ask them where they stand with Christ. Anyway, I freaked out, so I went to read the Bible and God showed me Psalm 19:13, "Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me..." That made me realize that God was calling me to obey, and even though I had an option, God wanted to use me to glorify Him. I feared more than anything that I would chicken out and disobey. Thus, I told three close friends about this calling, and they promised to pray for me.
Once in DC, I was again afraid that I would miss an opportunity and fail. And more than that, I would have to tell those three friends I had failed. Finally, I quit worrying and God gave me peace. Sunday night, after a long day of sightseeing at Mount Vernon, the family's daughter wanted to go swim at the pool. I was reluctant to go at first, but then realized it was a good opportunity to journal and read the Bible. Thus, we went up for about an hour. After I finished my reading and praying, I looked over to see the life guard sitting in a chair near the pool towels. God tells me "That's him." With my heart beating 100 MPH, I go over to get my friend a towel to dry off with. Before going back, I stop and ask the man (probably about 40 years-old) if there was any way I could pray for him. He looks at me for a second and  breaks into a grin. He asks "What do you mean?" A few sentences later I ask him if he thinks he will go to heaven when he dies. He replies that he is a pretty good man, but figures he will have to wait until he gets there. I then get to tell him about my dad. I say that he was a good man, a preacher at that, but that is not why he is in heaven. It is because he had faith in God. I share Romans 6:23 and tell him that the only thing we earn is death. Jesus died for us because he loves us, and if we realize we cannot get to heaven on our own and have faith in him, that is how we can get to heaven.
Of course, I didn't explain it as orderly as that because I was so nervous. I did ask him if he had a Bible, and he did. He, in return, asked where would be a good place to start reading. I tell him the book of John is a great place to start. Before going back to the room, I tell they man that I will be praying that he asks Jesus to be his Savior. The life guard is all smiles.
Wow! I've prayed for that man very often since that night. I pray I get to meet him again in heaven. Either way, though, I was blessed that night. After sharing, I felt so joyful, like I was about to burst! I wanted to sing and dance and celebrate because knowing I had obeyed Jesus' will that night was the best thing ever! And more than that, the reason for my dad's death was given a face. And that gives me such hope, knowing that it wasn't in vain. Joy most certainly comes in the morning!

More Than My Creator

When some people think of God, they imagine an all powerful being in the sky too busy with major world issues to consider us. I know this to be 100% false, and my life is a testimony to that.
When I was 8, we had just moved to a new city, and I really wanted a best friend. I made a list of qualities she should have and prayed that I might meet her soon. With the faith of a child, I prayed for her almost everyday for 4 years. I became good friends with a few people off and on, but they never met my expectations. I wanted a someone who was completely loyal, truthful, godly, and one I could tell anything to. I trusted a very few people with this high expectations, and they always fell very short.
When I was 10, I was in the middle of church singing, and suddenly I heard God say, "I am your best friend." That spoke volumes to me. He was all I needed, all I would ever need. He met me where I was, I didn't have to be a great theologian to hear from God or a powerful leader.
Nevertheless, I fought God between wanting a friend just my age, and depending on Him. I discovered that when I began to depend on close friends to fill in the part of my best friend, I was expecting them to be perfect. The perfectly loyal, trustworthy, godly friend. And guess what? Only God is all that! I was wanting them to be God!
Since that time, God has blessed me with some of the best friends on planet earth. I quit lining up the perfect friend my age, and realized my mom, my sisters, the girl I babysit, friends from school, from youth group, they are my closest friends! They each bless me and encourage me in different ways! The difficult part is balancing between enjoying these friends, and expecting them to be God. But, as long as I look to Him the most, He keeps me on track.
The closer I am to God, the easier it is to hear Him speak. Six months ago, God brought me to my knees, and I had no idea why. Before I could sleep, I HAD to read the Bible. And as I read, He laid on my heart that something was coming. A storm like never before, that would test all I had ever laid a foundation on. The verse that was laid on my heart was: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." I got on my knees and begged God to keep that promise. I truly didn't know why; life was great. Still, I felt the urge to pray like never before.
Now, I get why. I understand why He had me pray that way. God was preparing me for something I had never dared imagine. And through that time, He gave me strength for that day, and everyday since then.
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow!"

PS! I've noticed that the majority of people who have read this, I have never even met. Thus, I don't know where your relationship with God is, but if you have a question, please message me. Whether it's about my story, God, or spiritual things, ask away! I can't pretend I have all the answer, but I am best friends with the God who does!

Providence, Not Coincidence

Looking back, in the month before my Dad died, things sort of fell into place. Everything that happened was much more than mere coincidence. Do you believe in coincidence? I simply cannot, I must believe in Providence because too many things "worked out" perfectly.
My Dad was a very "inside the box" man. Everything happened in order, steps could not be skipped, and he always had a plan. When it came to vacations, he would occasionally take a spontaneous beach trip, but if we wanted to stay a couple of days, it had to be planned out months before. A week and a day before he died, Dad told us he wanted to go to the beach in two days, and stay for 3 days. He said that life had been crazy lately, and he just wanted some time with his family. The crazy thing is, the rest of us were not completely sure we wanted to go. It was going to rain the whole time, and mom, the girls and I had just gotten back from a youth trip. Still, Dad was determined to go, and we all said "Sure, why not?" The family time sounded great, even if the flooding weather didn't. Thus, we stayed at a house 30 minutes from the beach and had a great time. We watched movies, and laughed, and played games. The second night we ate out at a Mexican place. After that, it started pouring and we saw a covered dock open to the public so we grabbed some umbrellas and ran out there just to look. It "just so happened" I grabbed out my iPhone camera a took pictures of Mom and Dad and then Dad and I. I didn't know they would the last pictures of us together.

Two weeks before he died, Dad's old white car broke down. It was heat-less, AC-less, and 13 years old. And it was supposed to be mine. I was so happy when he sold it (for scrap) and bought a new car. The thing about the new car is, it's the nicest car he ever bought for himself and it's fairly new. When he first brought this car home, Lydia called it "The Mom Mobile" it looked kind of girly. We changed the nick-name for Dad's sake, but I found it hard to imagine him driving around in that car for another decade. But now, it's mine. It looks like a car I would own, it's very nice, and it's the last thing he bought me (even if he didn't know that). Coincidence? I don't think so.

Lastly, I don't believe in coincidences because of the note. I would occasionally write Mom and/or Dad notes telling them that I loved them and such. There was nothing really special about the night before he died. But as I got into bed, I thought maybe I should write my parents a note. I realized how greatly I was blessed, and I wanted them to know that. The note told them that they were one in a million and I was blessed to be their daughter and I loved them. I taped it to their door. Dad found it that night and put it on his bathroom mirror where it remains. I usually just wrote notes after a great talk with them or after something crazy had happened, but that Monday was normal. Yet, God urged me to write it and I am forever grateful for that.

I have heard people who do not believe in God call the things above "coincidences" or "fate" or "chance." I believe there is too much evidence of God's grace to believe in such. We could have declined the beach trip easily, or he could have bought an old beat up car again, or I would have said "forget the note, I'm too tired." I believe that "He works all things together for the good of those who love God." 1 Corinthians 2:9 says, "....No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind can conceive what God has prepared for those who love him." Because God loves me as His child saved by grace, he has a plan and he will bring it into completion. I can only see this glimpse of pain, but God sees the big picture! 

Our First Birthday Celebration

To those who don't directly know my family and I, I have three younger siblings: Lydia (14), Julia (12), Jonathan (5). Today, our family experienced a first. The first birthday celebrated without Daddy. Julia turned 12 today, and she and Dad spent a lot of time together. When she was nine, Dad started researching how to pitch in softball, and thus he taught her. At first, he just did it to see how she would do. If you know anything about my Dad, however, you would know that he was very passionate. He was either all in or all out. Well, he was all in with teaching Julia to pitch. She took pitching lessons, and eventually got so good that she was asked to join a travel ball team. Together, they would spend hours practicing, taking lessons, and talking about how to get better even at the dinner table. He was slightly obsessed (ok, very obsessed) but it was his stress reliever and Julia is very passionate about softball.

This blog is dedicated to my youngest sister on her very special birthday. With all that has happened, she has remained very strong and I have learned a lot about her. She is not very touchy-feely when it comes to hugs and such. If you ask her her opinion on something, she will give you straight honesty without beating around the bush. In sad and lonely situations, she knows how to make you laugh. Even that first long night, she kept us laughing with random crazy things she would say. For example, at the beach last week, we were all on the same bed one night talking and sadly remembering, when Julia shows us the hilarious music videos she had looked up that day. She had us rolling with her music video impressions!

One thing especially that Julia has that this world needs, is confidence in who Jesus has made her to be. She's not worried about what her friends might say to something she does or wears. She is different from most girls her age because on one hand, she's artistic and girly, but on the other she is a fierce competitor (like her Daddy!). But neither side of her personality stop her from doing what she wants to do and is called to do. I think her confidence in Jesus is what has helped her handle Dad's death so well. Yes, she has been sad and cried like everyone else, but at the same time, she is not afraid of the future. She is ready to move on! 

Happy birthday, Julia! I know sometimes we clash, but do not ever change who you are! I love you so much!

Just Me and My All

Last night I had an amazing time talking to God and reading the Bible. Who knew how much truth and hope the book of First Samuel held? I also have been able to relate to the book of Psalm in a new amazing way.
Firstly, instead of asking God "Why me?" He is changing my attitude and helping me realize how much I do not deserve His favor and love. Think about it, God could have left me sobbing and hopeless in the ER waiting room that night. Instead, however, He gave me strength and peace like never before. Psalm 8:3-4, "When I consider your heavens, the works of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" My family and I are a living testimony to the fact that God does not forsake his children. He has been preparing me for this day and known it would happen since before the world was made.
I have been keeping a journal since I was 8. About 6 months back I wrote that I felt that that time was a time of rest. Life had been fairly easy. I was reading the Bible everyday and enjoying the time of peacefulness. I felt, however, that my walk didn't match my talk. It's easy, for example, to trust in God when He has given you two loving parents and a great church and family. My life was good, so why shouldn't my spiritual life be the same? That's how I felt that others saw me. And they had every right to view me as such.
Now, everyone waits to see if we will sink or swim. I'm doing neither. God is carrying me to shore, he is my strength. Psalm 10: 17-18 says,"You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more." It's very strange to think of myself as fatherless, but at the same time, it is comforting. There are so many verses in the Bible where God says He is with the fatherless, He is my Father. He gives me strength to stand and carries me when I cannot.
My earthly father was not my purpose in life or my reason to live. I love him so much, and I will always miss him, but God remains as my King. Psalm 16:2, "I said to the LORD, 'You are my LORD; apart from you, I have no good thing.'" This is my life song and cry! And I desire it to be the cry and desire of everyone in my church and in my family!
These verses have given me great strength and hope. Last night was the first time in a long while where spending time with my King was more important than family, food, or sleep. I needed it and yearned for Him. Time fell away and it was just me and my All. Praying it stays that way!

Learning to Rebuild

A lot has happened since the last time I blogged. The men of my church have graciously allowed me to join their softball team in place of Dad and even allowed me to bat first. The first inning I was all about competition, then I realized that this is just for fun and fellowship, which I needed. I was encouraged and greatly blessed that night. I did tear up a few times when I would think to myself "I can't wait to go home and tell Dad I did that!" Or when one man on the team would pat my helmet every time I went up to bat just like Dad did. I have so many amazing softball memories with Dad. 

Also, through all of this, my family and friends are all being drawn closer. We have been so blessed by all the calls and concerns and prayers. We are fighting a battle right now, but I already know who will win, so I'm just going to go as God leads and not worry about the future. 

This week I get to be with family at the beach. I'll be honest and say its really hard. Dad loved being at the beach more than anywhere else and it feels like at any moment he will walk through the door. He would love these waves (double red flag) and family time. When he was on vacation, he was like a different person. Relaxed, spur of the moment, ready for anything. Although it has been somewhat difficult, it's been great laughing and making new memories with family. 

Next week will be a week of rebuilding. So we will continue to need your prayers. There's a Daddy sized hole in the hearts of me and my siblings, and we need God to of fill it. I told Mom last week that I now look forward to heaven more than I ever have before. Imagine, when I go Home, both Daddys will greet me! 

Missing My Daddy

This past week and a half have been very busy. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in the moment and forget about all that has happened. But  it's those slow, quiet nights that remind me that my daddy is no longer on this earth. Jonathan and I had a moment like that Tuesday night.
We were about to go to bed and I said: "Can I ask you a question, Buddy?"
Jonathan: "Sure."
Me: "What was your favorite thing about Daddy?"
He sat there for a minute and tears started to well up in his eyes and his lip poked out a little. So I said: "It can be something funny."
Jonathan: "I was hoping I could say something serious."
Me: "Ok, you can say something serious."
Jonathan, with his voice cracking: "Daddy was kind, and he loved Jesus, and he loved his family."
I sat there for a minute, and realized how much he meant what he had just said. Jonathan wasn't just saying some nice words, this was what he loved about his daddy.
Then I remembered something crazy Dad used to do, and I told Jonathan. "Do you know what Daddy used to do after I spent a long time fixing my hair? He would walk in and rub my head (like he did when I was little) and I would shout 'Daddy! I just fixed my hair. Stop it!'" Jonathan giggled and laughed and together we remembered.
I've had a lot of thoughts and feelings since that Tuesday. Anger, confusion, loneliness, hurt. I'm angry because I do not understand how God could do this. Kind of like an infant. Parents give things to their baby and take from them because they know what is best. Often times, the baby will cry because they do not understand. They kick and scream and as they grow up, they understand. That's how I feel. I know God has a purpose for this, and I love Him as before, I just don't understand. And that's okay for now. I'm confused because I'm not sure what happens next, but I do know that God does. I'm lonely and hurt because sometimes I look over and expect Dad to be there. Sitting in his chair, laughing the loudest of all, wrestling with his Boy. I have those moments very often, and I kind of like them because for a moment, everything feels back to normal.
But normal isn't what God intended. We are created to glorify God and enjoy His creation. My dad glorified God with his life, and in his death. And now he is in heaven rejoicing in his Creator. It doesn't get any better! I can't wait to join both of my Dads one day!
Jonathan cannot understand all of that right now, but this is what I told him at the end of our conversation: "Buddy, do you know who loved Daddy more than we did? God. And He loved Daddy so very much that God couldn't stand to be away from him another day." It was time for Michael Whitt to go home to his heavenly Father.

My Weakness is His Strength

I'm so grateful for the encouragement of family, friends, and even strangers. Their prayers and blessings are what have kept this family going. There is, however, one thing I would like to clarify.
What people tell me most often, is "You and your family are so strong." If you had known what the past three months have been like for me personally, I think you would view me very differently.
Back up to a few months ago.....
I started out wanting to believe the things my parents and church family believed for myself. Not just because someone told me it was true. I wanted to dig deeper. The deeper I dug, the more I doubted. I did not doubt that Jesus could be my savior nor did I doubt that heaven was real. I did doubt that I could get into heaven. I mean, what if I died tonight, got to heaven, and Jesus told me "Sorry, but there's been a mistake." How could I be sure?
For weeks I struggled with this question. And for some reason, I couldn't seem to tell anyone. The more I struggled, the less I read the Bible. My prayer life decreased dramatically. I got to the point where, not only was I fooling everyone else about my spiritual lifestyle, I was fooling myself, too. I felt empty and hollow and I kept begging God for some sort of answer.
Then, on a random day in June, I was outside reading a book by R.C. Sproul. He writes, "The farther we get away from the Word, the less assurance we will experience in this life. The more we are in the Word of God, the more the Spirit who inspired the Word who illumines it for us will use the Word to confirm in our souls that we are truly His, that we are indeed among the children of God." He uses 2 Corinthians 5:5 as reference, "He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee." Suddenly, something clicked. I knew that all I had to have was faith. I had always known that, but the farther I got from God, the less I could hear his whispered assurance.
Through all of this, I was shaken that I could doubt my salvation. I had always thought that faith was one of my strong points. God showed me that my own strength is very weak. But where I am weakest, there He is strongest.
So, all that has happened this past week has not weakened me. This is only because I am leaning all the more on a very strong God. I hear more than His whisper of love, I hear His shouts of joy resounding in my soul! People expect me to be so very sad and depressed and hopeless in this situation; but I am not. I will forever miss my Daddy, wonder why it had to be so soon, and cry often when I think of him. But "my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. His hope, his covenant, his blood support me in the whelming flood."
The song that I have listened to multiple times today is "Bring the Rain" by MercyMe. I feel like it applies to me and my situation more than ever. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m17af0XmPFo)
I pray that everyone comes to experience this strength that Christ has given me. You don't have to be a long time Christian, or a pastor's daughter, or a "good" person to have this kind of close relationship with Christ. Just treat Him like you would your best friend. Spend time with Him by talking to Him. Tell Him your greatest hopes and fears and doubts. He will take them all. Read His love letter to you: the Bible. He longs to shower His love upon you. Don't put it off, start a forever friendship with Him right now. He has big plans for you if you will listen!
Please continue to pray for God's will to be shown in the life the of my family. Also, that we will constantly depend on Him. Thank you!

Strength in Suffering

My Dad asked about 3 weeks ago "If we could move anywhere in the world, where would you want to move?" Each of us had a different place in mind. Such as Auburn, Africa, South America. Me? I wanted to stay in Abbeville. Why? Not just because it's a small town, safe, and everything is so close. It was because of the people. The forever friendships I have developed with people here. I never knew how much I would need those friends in the weeks to come.
Tuesday, July 9th, 2013 will forever stick out in my mind. Dad had a softball game with the church league. He's on the blue FBC team. The first game he was a little slow, and if you ever met my dad, you know that he was well known for his speed. That night he didn't run many bases. He kept stopping to catch his breath. The second game, he was playing okay, but wouldn't go into the field. Suddenly I heard someone say Dad was on the ground. I jumped up and sprinted out there. I was handed a precious little boy mom had been watching and so I moved away. But not before I caught a glimpse of him. He was shaking really hard and his head was moving back and forth. I went over to the side to wait and someone took the toddler from me. I ran back over and felt myself panic, turn white, and want to pass out. My youth pastor blocked my view and moved me away. My former youth pastor's wife grabbed me and we waited.
An ambulance was called and my youth pastor and former youth pastor drove my sisters and I to the hospital. I thought everything was going to be alright. It supposed to just a concussion and a seizure. Psalm 91 played over my mind again and again. We got to the family waiting room and prayed. Family and friends arrived and we waited some more. I have never been so afraid. Then the doctor came in and told us he had suffered a massive heart attack. He didn't make it. To say the least, I was shocked. My first thought was very selfish. "He was supposed to walk me down the isle." After a minute or so, I felt God give me strength. To encourage, console, and even laugh.
The rest of the night was very long and slow It was filled with happy memories and sad realizations.
Wednesday was a mix of different emotions. Every time someone new stopped by, I wanted to break down. By afternoon, I had cried and remembered all I wanted to and a lot more. That's when great friends came to the rescue. We played spoons and pit and ate dinner at a pizza place. That helped so much.
Thursday, we rolled the tree. If you don't know, Michael Whitt was a HUGE Auburn football fan So, in his memory, the town decided to join us in rolling a tree in the front yard one last time. It was amazing. About 100 people showed up.
Friday was long. The visitation and funeral were in the morning. Some friends spread the word that no one should wear black, because this was a celebration. The hardest friends to see were the ones I played softball with and Daddy helped coach just a few weeks ago.I told my youngest sister Julia that next year, I will help be her coach.
Through all of this, God has given me more joy than I have ever felt before. Yes, there is also great pain, but the peace is even greater. A year ago I would have been so afraid of possibly moving, going to school, and the unknown. But now? I say "Bring it." God is in control. Jeremiah 29:11 is my favorite verse, ""For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD. "Plans to prosper, and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."" God's faithfulness has been displayed through His peace, but also through His providence. Friends all over have blessed us with food, encouragement, and even household needs. What a blessing!
So how do I feel about all of this? I believe that if just one person came to know Christ, it would all be worth it. If our church can grow and flourish and touch lives through this trial, blessed be the name of the LORD! In time, I may be angry, and sad, and lost; but God is my God, and His promise to never leave or forsake me will remain.