A very small window

Today, while driving to Williamsburg with my friend Lisa, I realized how Christopher's death has changed the way that I see a part of the way God leads.  If you've ever used a GPS, you'll know what I am talking about.  

As you are going along, you can see where you are on the screen, but you can't see very far ahead.  You only see what you need to see for the next few miles. That is really the way that God seems to deal with me.  For example, I know that I am supposed to apply for the PhD program, but I don't really know if that is what I need to be doing next fall; He only seems to be showing me a few steps at a time.

Until Christopher died, this was more frustrating to me than it it is today.  I used to want to see how this was all going to work together; I wanted to know what He was doing.  I know realize that I am so thankful that I didn't know that December 8, 2007, what Christopher's date to pass from this world to the next.  Had I known, I wouldn't have been able to let myself enjoy what were to be his final days.  

I used to think that withholding His plan, was God's way of denying me what I thought I needed.  In reality, withholding His plan enabled me to enjoy what I had.

God is good and life is hard.  This is not a contradiction or a lack of faith; it is my reality.  It is hard because this is not my home.

I am in Williamsburg staying in a timeshare.  Even though it is really nice, it is not my home and I don't expect that I'll be totally comfortable before we head home; I still can't figure out which light switches control what lights, for example.  It makes it hard to get around.  

That is not unlike why life can be hard.  When I get to heaven, everything will have a place and be in its place, me included.  

This is not my home.  I want to go home, but again, I only see a little bit of the picture ahead and, thus far, it doesn't include heaven.  I guess, I just have to trust that is my destination and keep on following, one little window at a time.

Facing Christmas without Christopher

Christmas night and I've made it. Last night was the toughest as there was no anticipation like there was with Christopher. He was like a little kid in a huge body when it came to getting gifts. He'd never admit it, but he really enjoyed the events: the people, the food, the gathering.

There is a part of me that feels like that is all gone for me and never to return. I did good, though, I had Christmas dinner for my brother, sister-in-law, niece and mom. I made a good meal, if I may say so myself and generally enjoyed myself. But is it just different. That family is different from what I had with Christopher and what I looked forward to with him through the years.

It has been long enough that I have trouble remembering my last Christmas with Christopher; I get so confused as they all begin to run together. That is the way I feel about a lot of the thirteen years we spent together. It is just one, long movie that is growing more silent with each passing day. Is is coming to a point that I don't know what I remember as opposed to what I know. I know that we went on great vacations, but I want to remember every little moment, every conversation, every smile, even every argument.

I want it all back. I want every moment with him back to hold on to, to hear, to smell, to savor. Why don't we think that we will ever forget? Why do we think that the joy will last forever?

I often wonder what, if anything, I would do differently, if I had only know that my time with Christopher was to be so very short. You know, I wouldn't change a thing. Every encounter, every conversation, every experience, every adolescent talk-back and my response, (good, bad or ugly), is what made Christopher into the young man that he was and I loved him just the way he was (is).

I have to remind myself that Christopher "is". He isn't "was." That is vital to me to know that one day I will be reunited with him again and enjoy all he was on this earth and more. I will see the remnants of our time together in his laugh, his smile, his character. I can hardly wait, but I must. Apparently there is some reason for me to be left behind and to that I'll be searching. I may never find it, but I pray that along the way, that lives will be changed. This pain has to be good for something, something big, and I beleive it will be.

God is good and He has a plan. I don't like it right now I am alone this Christmas night (if I were to be honest, I'd probably be alone this night even if Christopher hadn't died. I need to remind myself of those truths as well.) He woudl be out with friends, I'm sure. And truthfully, he is with the One true Friend.

Christopher is home this night. It is me who hasn't made it yet. Maybe I resent that he made it first; you know we were always very competitive! :)

Merry Christmas, Christopher. I am sure that the birthday party was a blast! Wish I could have been there.

Talk to Papa for me and see what He can do about that!

Faith is Easy

Faith is easy, trusting isn't always so.  

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and we ended up talking about faith.  We demonstrate faith all the time and think nothing of it, but when it comes to having faith in God's directions, we seem to make it more difficult.  Let me explain.

My brother, Jim, got me a GPS for Christmas last year.  I have used it to go a number of places and will again next week as I travel to Williamsburg.  It amazes me.  A few months ago, I went up to Winder, GA to visit a friend.  I don't know the ways of rural north Georgia at all, even though I have been there several times.  But I had my GPS.  (It is a Garmin.  I call her Judy as she can be a know-it-all and besides, Judy Garmin has a familiar ring to it.) so there was no problem.  At one time, I talked to my mom and she asked where I was, to which I replied that I had know idea, but I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

This is sad to say, but I want to trust God as much as I trust my Garmin.  He has a positioning system too - it is called His will.   I want to be able to say that I don't know where I am, but I know that I am where I am supposed to be.

I think that difference is that with my Garmin, I know my intended destination whereas with God, He doesn't always tell me the destination . . . or does He.  My ultimate destination is Heaven.  With the loss of Christopher, I am not sure that it really matters where I spend the time between here and there.  Just like it doesn't really matter where my Garmin takes me on the way to Winder.  I just want to get to the destination.

Perhaps thats the way I need to look at the road I am on in life.  I need to trust my God, confident that He'll get me to the ultimate destination using the best route possible.  Of course, I'd like to enjoy the ride, but in the big picture, I just need to focus on following the directions He gives me.  Knowing that I am where I am supposed to be should help me enjoy the ride and I need to constantly remind myself of the destination.

God is good and He knows the best way through life.  My destination is secure, no matter what route He has me take.  I may not know where I am on my journey, but I know I am where I am supposed to be.

First "Anniversary" - although there has to be a better word . . .

I have been at Camp Charis in Pelham, GA, for nearly 24 hours now.  I came to set aside time to reflect and remember last year.  It was 52 weeks ago, today, that Christopher left this earth to begin eternity with his God.  I still wrestle with this; believe me, I know that it is real, but it is still so hard to grasp.

So why am I in Pelham Ga?  Well, I decided that this year, I wanted some control over this weekend.  If there is anything that I learned last year, is that there is really so little that I can control.  Here, I am sort of alone, although there are a lot of people around me; some who know my story and some who don’t.  I am free to do as I please, when I want, but I know that my dear friend, Craig, is keeping an eye on me.  

I want for this weekend to be a time to remember and feel the events of last year in a way that I can only do by myself, without having to take care of anybody else.  I have done that some and think I will again before I leave on Monday.  

I have thought a lot about the other lives that were changed that night.  There was a young girl who was driving a truck behind Linda.  I have no idea what impact this has had on her; I don’t suspect much as I understand that she was not taken to the hospital, but quickly released.

There are Keith, Michelle, and Jamie, Linda’s children.  I have so appreciated getting to know them though I regret the opportunity that brought us together.  I have repeatedly tried to reassure them that I have found no fault with their mother that night.  I don’t know what caused the accident, but I firmly believe that Christopher would be here today, had the car he was in that night been going the speed limit.

I don’t know much about how the driver, Christopher’s friend, is doing.  I have never heard much from him.  I have reason to believe he has not reacted to this event as I (and others who knew him well) know that Christopher would have responded.  This has made it hard for me to know how to pray.  

As I have written before, I am not angry with him, but that does not mean that I think that his choices that night do not require consequences.  Fortunately, that is not for me to decide; there is a legal process over which I have no control or influence that will take care of that.  

When I first met Linda’s daughter, she and I agreed that we didn’t want this to ruin this young man’s life.  From the little I know of such things, a failure to deal with this type of trauma appropriately is more likely to have a negative impact on this young man than any consequence that the courts deem appropriate.  I am glad that there is a God in control of this entire situation who I believe loves this young man.

It is that same belief that has given me hope for the future for my life.  If you had asked me before the accident if I would be able to go on if something happened to Christopher, I don’t think that I could even imagine it possible.