Choosing to Rejoice

The weeping willow tree in Uncle John & Aunt Jeanne's backyard.

This morning is the first time I've "done nothing" since Dad's funeral. I could feel the grief setting in even as I drove home from the airport last night. Having my aunt here was a brief diversion, a welcome one, but I knew the sadness would have to be faced. I cranked up Need To Breathe and just let myself cry as I drove around the mountains.

This morning is a little more complicated. There are kids to feed, chores awaiting my attention. There are things on the agenda. But I just need a few minutes to process more.

I missed a few vital opportunities for closure while I was in Michigan. Some regrets are nagging at me. I didn't place anything in Dad's casket... It happened before I was ready, they shut his casket at the beginning of the funeral. I didn't really want to look at his body again, but I did want to put the kid's notes in there and I missed it. Also, I had a roll of King's Mints that he should have had. Aurelia loves mints so she started eating them.

I think my dad would tell me not to fret. The memories are for me. So I can choose what to do now. I think I should choose not to regret anything. I can bury the notes, but better to keep them as a precious memory of the kids loving their Grandpa. Oh, they really loved him. As Aurelia eats the King's Mints I can choose whether to "regret" that we didn't bury them with Dad or I can "rejoice" that she is a mint eater like Grandpa Gerrit. My dad would say, "Let her eat the mints."

There was so much more I wanted to share with Dad.

If I had had more time to plan for a scripture to read at the funeral, here is what I would have added to my eulogy. But since I didn't, and since Dad is already in the Presence of God, this scripture is for me.

This is what I rejoice in today, thinking about my Dad:

"The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever;
he does not treat us as our sins deserve, or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust."
Psalm 103: 8-14

At Fort Custer

Lifting My Eyes- True Confessions

I lift up my eyes to the hills-

Where does my help come from?

Never a shortage of views here.

For months I've put off writing and posting because I didn't want to wallow. But I was wallowing. 

Homesickness, winter blues, loneliness, selfishness, you name it. 

I didn't post my last draft because it contained complaining, egads.

It really comes down to what my friend Tiffany said at CC one day when I confessed I had been "faking it" while being so nauseated in early pregnancy during the (awful) months of February and March. 

"Why are you faking it?" Tiffany (and the Lord) asked.

Here it is. Wait for it...

I just don't want anyone to know I'm a fake. 

My good friend Rebekah says that it's the first six months in a new place that just plain stink, (I'm keeping this rated G but I have another word for it.) Maybe I'm about over the "stinky" time.

Maybe it's because I'm finally pregnant after several years of wanting a baby and I'm just so happy about it.

Maybe it's because I'm starting to find myself enveloped in the love of old and new friends and I can't hold them off any longer.

Maybe it's because I'm starting to peel off another layer of dishonesty about myself. I hope that's the case.

Look, people, I really did want to be in Alaska again, we've dreamed about returning here for years. This is a beautiful place to be, and I am learning to appreciate it, one excruciating winter month at a time. 

Eagle River, March 2013
If I'm going to be truthful, I have to confess that this life of constant transition is not the lifestyle I would have chosen for myself. 
It has been painful, at times excruciatingly so. And I've had it pretty easy compared to most military wives. EASY.

Hug, pray for, bring a meal, do something for the military wife you know. This week. Today.

Other than learning to run to the Rock of my Salvation, I don't know how I could have survived it- dare I say, thrived in it- for my entire married life (read: adulthood.)

Slowly, I am learning. Little by little, spring is coming, and I am learning to lift my eyes. I look up, away from myself. I look up to the One who watches over, who keeps tabs on the seasons and knows all of mine. Stop looking for what I'm missing somewhere else and start looking for what I might be missing, right here.

Winter doesn't last forever, even in Alaska. 

My help comes from the Lord, 

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip-

he who watches over you will not slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you-

the Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day, 

nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm-

he will watch over your life;

the Lord will watch over your coming and going

both now and forevermore.

Psalm 121 (NIV)