Addison sarcastically commented when I snapped this photo of her on the Ubahn that she could see me using this photo on a blog when she was gone.  Well, she was right!  Here it is ... Addie!

There is a popular phrase roaming around the Internet on Pinterest and Face Book that says:  "Don't cry because it's over.  Rejoice that it happened in the first place."   I'm not heeding the anonymous authors' advice. I'm crying because it's over.  I need to cry because it's over.  It's healthy to cry because it's over.

Today, as that grown up girl of mine headed out the door to catch her plane to fly to another continent that she calls "home", I cried because it was over.  I've cried all throughout the day ... because it's over.

I keep asking myself why I am crying and then I remember her sweet face as she woke up every morning stumbling into whatever room I was in, leaning over and giving me a kiss on the cheek.  I am gonna miss that face - or ...

I cry when I see her PJ's laying in the empty drawer ... ones she left behind for the next visit ...whenever that might be.  She told me they were "granny" PJ's and we laughed over the fact that every time they were washed, the bottoms kept getting shorter and shorter.  I am gonna miss that cute little laugh - or ...

I cry when I hear the songs she downloaded on my playlist on my computer.  We'd listen to these songs as we played a perpetual game of Backgammon.  I'd hear her precious voice harmonize to everything from Jack Johnson to Sons and Daughters.  I am gonna miss her harmony.

Despite the tears that have trickled in random cycles throughout the day down my face and soiled my makeup way too many counts to count, I'm also rejoicing that it happened in the first place!!  I'm rejoicing that my grown up girl was home for 5 weeks ... occupying the same air that I breathed ... drinking from her favorite coffee cup ... sleeping on pallets on the floor with her sisters ... giving out fashion advice to her poor ol' Mom ... riding in the same Ubahn and making silly faces across the aisle ... going with me to the grocery store because she can ... staying up late to watch a movie ... just ... being ... together.  Together in the same space.  Priceless.

It is more and more evident that I have joined the ranks of others ... those parents who parent from far away ... less involved in the day to day events of their children ... because their children are adults ... operating on their own ... and needing little from us ... us the parents ... who serve another role.

This parting is tough.  This parting makes me want to run home to my own parents, hug their necks, and tell them I now know how it feels.  This parting makes me ever so thankful for another place and time that is to come ... this place being prepared for me and others like me ... who have put their lives record into the hands of an Almighty God.  This parting makes me long for this place of no more parting ... ever.

This hurting will soften.  Tomorrow another week will unfold.  I will dig into the "normal" and long-distance phones calls with my girl will replace the daily conversations.  I may shed the occasional tear at the thought of a past memory ... but more often I will rejoice at the relationship that has moved into a new phase.

For all who've gone before me ... Oh, how I respect the road you've traveled.  For all who have yet to walk this road ... bless you.

singing my membership card,
christina

 the annual recurrence of a date marking a notable event;broadly :  a date that follows such an event by a specified period of time measured in units other than years (Webster Dictionary)

Today marks an anniversary for my family.  My step-sister, Tiffany, lost her son one year ago today.  He was 21.  He had three brothers, a Dad, a step-Dad and Mom, grandparents, cousins, Uncles, Aunts, friends, coaches, co-workers, and a deeply loved young lady in his life he affectionately called "the love of his life".  For a year, they've all walked a journey toward today.

A notable event, to be true.  A life taken too young, too soon, too tragically due to poor choices.  We don't fault the one who made the choice.  Instead we grieve the action that took his life.

According to Webster, the date that follows an event is measured in units.  I wonder what units his Momma measured this past year?  What do you call the "units" that measured the times she thought about her man-son when he was little and would climb into her bed ... whispering in the darkness "I love you to the moon and back!"?  What does his DaBaw call the "units" that measured the times she cried over seeing something related to China that reminded her of the bright future her grandson aspired to achieve?  What do you call the "units" that measured the dreams his brothers may have had in which they were reunited with their eldest sibling?  Everyone touched by the ripple effect of having known Stuart, despite the deepness of the relationship, all took stock of his life and measured it by some sort of "unit".

This morning, as I sat in my chair, sipping my coffee, and talking to my Father ... I'm reminded of how He sees "units".  According to the Bible, time is measured in years ... 1,000 of them in heaven being as 1 on earth.  Believing by his own admission that Stu knew God through His Son, Jesus Christ, I have an anchor of truth that tells me Stu is measuring "units" of time far differently than we are who are "celebrating" this first anniversary.

I have no idea, other than what the Bible tells us, what Heaven will be like.  I know that Jesus will be there ... and that's all I need to know.  Where Jesus is ... it's got to be OK.  Stu may be in a cozy bed, sleeping off his "earth" gig with a cup of Chinese tea waiting for him by his bedside.

In the mean time, I guess what I want to communicate to the rest of us living out our days in earth time and in "units" that are vastly different from person to person ... where Jesus is ... it's going to be OK!  God's Spirit is the only thing that could have eased broken hearts, troubled minds, and addicted bodies during this last year.  Anything good and perfect and right and true came only from the hand of God ... loving all of us and comforting each heart in a personal way.  That's what God does.

Whatever journey you are on ... and by whatever way you measure "units" of time ... know how very much God loves you.  It's a basic fact.  It's an extravagant love to be treasured.  He is always there ... and I think Stu would tell you the same from his new perspective.



measure well your "units",
christina

In this grief process I've sensed the need to be really, really focused on the goodness of God.  Aren't there a lot of messages out there about who God is?  I don't need my hurt heart to write its' own version of who I think God is ... or is not.  What I need is for God to show me who He is.

Wandering a bookstore, noticing that all the "bargain books" were yet an additional 25% off the already low, low price, I prayed.  I prayed that if there was a book I was to read, God would show me.  I saw lots of intriguing titles ... but then my eyes fell on the one I took home as my own.  The title:  90 Days of God's Goodness by Randy Alcorn.

I've read 2 days worth of God's goodness.  Goodness comes out of hardship.  I can trust a loving God to bring me through a crummy event and ... make ... me ... better.  Pretty amazing.  I'm gonna keep reading.  Two days is not long enough to establish a default in my thinking that ... God.is.good.  But, I know I'm on the right road!!!

reading,
christina

Due to the fact that January is just a natural time to regroup, reconnect, reorganize and step in different directions, I'm reading.  I love to read.  I love to read good stuff.  I especially love to read good stuff by authors I just happen to know.  This is the case with my new years' read:  Digesting Grief:  Comfort Food Beyond Cliches by Irene Nielson.

My relationship with Irene began as a child living in Great Falls, Montana.  My Dad's career as an Air Force man moved us to Big Sky country when I was in the second grade.  Sometime after, the Nielson's became family friends (see blog post on Oct. 13, 2013 entitled #191) and their two daughters kindred spirits.  Many moves and years later found Irene sitting in my Dad's living room recently, catching me up to speed on her life.  As a result, this book found it's way into my hands ... and now her words are sinking into my heart.

Irene writes this after knowing great grief, the loss of a 27 year old daughter to cancer.  Out of her pain, darkness, tears, questions, she writes an honest account of one who is trying to figure out this God she's followed for years but who has taken her quite by surprise.

"There's a place for grief ... a place to be perfected in love where we learn the value of trusting god without having all the answers ... yet.  Grief is good ... I can say that now." p. 29

I've not lost a person ... I think I'm grieving something I can not see.  Watching children grow up, parents age, my own ideals about life morph, those I love experience deep hurt ... it's all kind of caused a grief process.  And now, as I find myself in a place of rest, I sense a grieving.

Isn't that the story of all of us?  At one point or another, we stumble onto the fact that there are things that happen that go beyond our understanding, our tidy solutions, our plan.  It stumps us, throws us, upsets our way of thinking and causes us to rethink ... everything.  Irene writes of discovering God in a way that without having walked through grief she would not have known Him.  That's my hope as I read and let her words fall in my heart.

Reading and listening,
christina

Digesting Grief:  Comfort Food Beyond Cliches
Copyright 2009 by Irene S. Nielson
Steeple Books

To find out more about Irene Nielson, visit:  www.hisink.com