Reflections on the two years’ anniversary of Brandi’s death

I was deleting photos and videos from the Ipad the other night – viewing Brandi alive, loving, her creative and engaging ways with the kids, the creativity that was a part of our home.  And it made me smile – not without pain, for I miss her and all that she brought to our house, and I feel the gap as I realize what is missing from our life now, what I can’t fix, can’t replace, can’t do anything but remember it and miss it – but there was also a smile, a recognition of what a blessing she was to us and that we have been so enriched and shaped by the time with her.  It was a time of recalling God’s goodness to us – a past goodness, but wonderful beyond calculation.

It tapped into something else that has been a part of the past few weeks – I’m not sure quite why.  But I have sensed in my own heart something that I have not felt for a while – hopefulness.  Now biblical hope does not need my feelings for it to be true, and for the last two years (maybe more?) I’ve clung to that hope despite precious little feeling.  That is clinging to the hope connected to the truth of God – his faithfulness will not fail, his promises will come true, and his love is real, even when I don’t feel any of that.  But this hopefulness is engaging my heart in new ways – a new expectancy, a thaw in the damp cloud covering that has weighed on my heart.  Some spark that, after a long winter that spring may be coming.

Some of it is connected, I think (oddly to my mind), to my mom’s death.  I have shared before that Brandi’s death left me feeling like I don’t know who I am in some ways – I lost not only the present partnership but the future that we envisioned together.  And it has left me wondering who I am and how I begin to pursue a future path on my own.  Family is one of the places that we can tend to retreat in these times – though I didn’t actively think about that a lot, my mom’s death made me realize how important family has been, and the role of son to her has shaped me as well.  And now she is gone, I feel both more unmoored in a bad way, with more uncertainty, but also with a newfound sense of freedom, of being ready to move ahead with whatever the next step in the journey would hold. 

I have had a number of notes and letters recently – one in particular that I want to quote:

"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning."

We don't often know how long our particular "nights" will be, nor when our "mornings" will dawn, but the timeline of eternity makes this promise, and for that reason we can have hope and persevere. That said, I do pray whatever your current "night," that it will end and your morning will come, with a joy and peace that surpasses your wildest expectations.

Then from Spurgeon:  There is One who careth for you. His eye is fixed on you, his heart beats with pity for your woe, and his hand omnipotent shall yet bring you the needed help. The darkest cloud shall scatter itself in showers of mercy. The blackest gloom shall give place to the morning. He, if thou art one of his family, will bind up thy wounds, and heal thy broken heart. Doubt not his grace because of thy tribulation, but believe that he loveth thee as much in seasons of trouble as in times of happiness. 

(thanks, James, for these!)

So if you would, join with me in praying for this – for a season of renewal, a season of resurrection, of life springing up in my heart toward the Lord, and then from that to the kids and others.  Pray for a season of joy after the night.  I know my last post was pretty raw – and there are moments, and days, that are mostly colored by that…but there has also been this new stirring, and I would ask you to join with me that it might come to pass, and be real.

Brief kids update:

 

Kids at winter school show

Many of you ask me how the kids are doing.  Generally, they are doing great – I just today received an email from their Sunday School teacher sharing of their engagement with spiritual things, and their teachers share that they are a joy to have in school.  I am thankful for all of this. This past week they have shown some signs of the emotional stress that I have come to expect on these anniversaries – though they don’t talk about it (I have to do that to them), I think that my mom’s death on top of this season has made them both a bit more “on edge” emotionally.  Pray for them, for God’s comfort to be theirs.  Pray for me, for patience and grace, for wisdom and discernment on when to help them with boundaries and discipline and when to give them a place to feel and grieve even if they don’t know what it is about. 

Thank you all, friends, for your prayers!

Walking with a limp

Almost three weeks ago, about, my mother died.  She had lived a rich 80 years, and though her death was unexpected in many ways, she went as she had most hoped (though I had tried for years to warn her we don’t get to choose, in the end, she did!), quietly in bed, not waking up from a night of sleep.  I have entrusted her to the arms of the Father.

But it leaves me with another part of the scaffolding of life now taken away.  Though I did not talk with her on a daily basis, I have found myself thinking of her nightly – after the kids are in bed, when the house is quiet except for the noise I make to fill it.  She alone in my family understood by experience that quietness, and the sorrow that comes with it – and I would call her at times, knowing that she would want to talk as much as I needed to (it was never a short conversation with mom…)  I feel more alone than ever in this world…

It just came out of my mouth yesterday, “I guess I feel like the Lord wants me to walk with more of a limp than I am comfortable with…”  Grief taps into deeper grief, and I find myself back in the valley rather than working on moving ahead and rebuilding a life.  Hope for the distant future is clear, but present hope, hope for the next year to be better than this, hope that I will actually see and taste that the Lord is good in this life – what I had been working towards and hoping in – seems to have slipped through my grasp again, evaporating to be found only on the far horizons. 

I preached a Christmas eve sermon about Immanuel, God with us.  I know it is true.  I can see how it is a wonderful truth – but it was hard to preach with conviction, when I feel so alone.  Even the best days are shaded with this truth.  And the worst days – well, I just go to bed early and hope that the next day will be better.  And they usually are. 

I want to be able to finish this on a solid note – that God has come to be with us.  That He is with me, now, even as I write this post about how alone I feel.  And I assent to this truth, but it brings not comfort but tears, not assurance but more sorrow.  I trust He is there…but I don’t feel Him there.  

I read a blog post today – a friend of a friend of a friend who knew a woman who had lost her husband to cancer in the past two years.  She posted about not writing – not since August – and why that was, and giving an update.  I found it comforting, oddly familiar.  Life is working.  God is still true.  But it is small, and it is so hard to hope for more when the loss has been compounded by loss after loss – the loss of the life we had worked to build, the loss of hopes and dreams of life and ministry together, the loss of companionship and daily partnership, the loss of affection and the knowledge that to one person I am loved and cherished, the loss of my mom, the loss of identity and a sense of purpose, the loss of clarity for a future direction and calling.  The loss of joy at Christmas…

Birthday reflections again

Today is Brandi's birthday - she would have been 42 today.  I'm not sure if it means anything to her now - in eternity, do you remember things like how long you have lived, or when you were born?  Does it cross your mind that you had a beginning, when you will live forever in the bliss of being with your beloved Savior?  I don't know the answers to that - I know that today, for those of us left in time, that it matters.  I'm with her family today - many of us took time to go visit her grave site.  I'm not sure I've ever posted pictures of it - but here is what you would see:

The flowers you see were given by Brandi's beloved friend Sarah - thanks Sarah! - who grew up with her, and who cut her teeth in her flower business by doing them for our wedding, which was a huge blessing for us and she did, and continues to do a wonderful job.  The planting in front and the care of the site has been under the care of her mother, and she has made it a beautiful place to be.  It is in Brandi's hometown of Newville, PA, if you are interested, right off 641.

On the back, if you can't see it clearly, are words taking from Psalm 16, verses 5, 6, 11:

The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. 

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

I've been thinking quite a bit about these ideas recently as I've been reflecting some on my life.  In many ways, life is manageable - barely at times, and I have found myself both very weary in just keeping up, even with a month leave from work, and also at times wondering if I can really bear the burdens of the church and my family well - in that we are not completely falling apart, and life is working.  But I feel like a shell of myself, and the idea that my soul can find the kind of satisfaction, and joy, in the life that the Lord has given me at this point is something I struggle to believe.  I believe that Brandi has found the path of life, that she is full of joy, and that she is pleased and satisfied forever more.  I am confident of that hope for me as well, in eternity.  But what about now?  Life seems pretty barren, and I feel like more of a shell, even as life "normalizes" and in some ways the pain of the loss is integrated more into the every day reality of life.  I am more used to that reality - but I don't know who I am or what any life beyond surviving and managing could really look like.  

The thought process I have is something like this.  Everything I do right now feels accompanied by a huge vacuum in my life - there is an emptiness that comes with the loss that I carry around, and is a part of both the greatest joys and deepest sorrows and griefs.  I miss my partner, my friend, my co-parent and my co-laborer in the Kingdom of God.  I feel like I CAN make life work - but at times I just don't want to keep going like this.

Honestly, for the first time it makes me ponder the question of whether trying to continue to do this alone is actually God's plan.  I've wondered if perhaps doing this life without a partner is not something I'm able to do. But then I wonder if I have given God the chance to be the one who is able to satisfy my soul, and for me to not only survive but thrive, flourish, in this new season of single parenting.  Do I have more to grieve and work through with God?  Do I have more to learn about community at a whole other level, and I've been trying to do it all myself?  Am I seeking to dig a cistern to quench my thirst when there is a spring of water welling up to eternal life (see Jeremiah 2)?  

So those are things for your prayers.  You can pray as well for the kids - they are doing well in many ways, but this summer has been hard for Katie and I'm still not sure why exactly, though at least to my eyes a little girl growing up without her mom is struggling to make sense of it all, and I have seen my own inadequacies in being all that she might need.  Pray for the next few weeks as we adjust to my returning to work at the church and the kids have a few more weeks before school begins.

Thanks, friends, for your prayers and well wishes.  I'm sorry I've not blogged more - The past few months have been overwhelming in many ways, and it has taken me this long to have something more to say than, "I'm tired, we're hanging in there, pray for us".

 Matt

 

Anniversary #2

 This picture comes from May 12 2014 - our seventh anniversary celebration, we spent a special day together, an anniversary we didn't know if we would celebrate.  Last Thursday I spent my second anniversary after her death visiting as a day of reflection, of rest, of mourning, of celebrating, of remembering. 

It was a special day in many ways.  A friend had given me a book, "Colors of Goodbye" a memoir of a mother who lost a daughter, and how she and her family experienced the loss.  It touched me/reached me in a way that, clearly, I needed a lot - I wept through, probably, 1/3 of the book as I read her story.  It was, as they say, a "good cry", a chance for me to feel, and express, how much I miss Brandi.  I was reminded that, though many mourn her, how lonely the mourning process can be.  One thought that I have had many times in the past few months is that, though Eli and Katie and I are doing just fine, I just don't want to do this life alone, without her.  Life at home is going fine, ministry at church, it is all going basically well - but I hate doing it without my partner, my companion, my other half.  I miss her every day.  I know she isn't coming back.  I know that life will go on.  But I'm struggling right now to like it, to become accustomed to it.

The author of the book also shared her struggle with a question, "How can life ever be good after she is gone?"  I think this is something I feel often - it is just so difficult to see how life going forward will be sweet, rich, full when daily I miss the endless ways that our life was enriched by Brandi's love and contribution.  Even in her illness, she made the moments special.  Now, even the times that are special are tinged with the sadness of her not being here to join in.  We hosted some visiting missionaries at our home this weekend - it was great to have them here, I loved being able to use our home to bless this family - but it was something Brandi would have loved, and I missed her a thousand times during the weekend.   Just the most recent example of it. The author, more than 5 years out from her loss, shared that she found that as she leaned into the pain of her loss, as she pursued grieving well, there were breakthrough moments that eventually saw her emerge from the sense that life cannot be good again.  It gave me hope that it may be true for me one day as well.

That is a brief update on me.  The kids are doing great - a highlight of the spring was their school show, where I knew that Katie was going to sing a solo and we had practiced a lot, but then on top of that Eli surprised me by singing a solo of his own - I was so proud of the boy who would not even stand up and sing at a parents meeting a year and a half ago, had a major solo.  I'm trying to upload the movies to my google drive so you can see it...I've been foiled by the technology so far, but this is my new attempt - I've not yet made it work, so I'll post a link in the future if I can get it to work.  Here is a photo - the costumes were derived from imagining what was worn by the ancestors who immigrated to the US. 

I love them and are so proud of them.  We are looking forward to the summer coming up, with some time off for the kids from school and me from work as well.  Thanks for your prayers and care.

Birthday thoughts

Dear friends,

Sunday was my birthday. Last year, I attacked it with a plan to take some friends out to dinner, to "own" my own brithday celebration.  It was a good time with them.  This year, I wanted to forget about it - or at least I pretended to, and tried to ignore it as much as possible.  I wasn't able to - my church family was on top of it and I had three different recognitions of my birthday, including a small party held for dear friends, and a small group who surprised me with dinner and a cake (shared with another woman in the group!).  I am thankful for a church that loves me well like this.

But I also realized that this is a new normal for me - every year, this will come around.  And as wonderful as what my friends did, there was no way to fill the void in the room, to ignore the gaping hole that I felt in each celebration.  And there will not be birthday cards on the mirror in the bathroom, or sweet cards carefully written with her love by my kids, or breakfast in bed, or many of those things.  I wouldn't want others to try to do it - that might just seem weird! - but they are still a loss, nonetheless. 

I have also been reminded of her this week because I often scan news articles for things about cancer, and ran across a story of a fairly high profile musician who was in her last days of battling cancer.  I find it helpful because it validates the reality of my life in some ways, that I am not alone in what we have walked through, and it can help me to feel the feelings of mourning and grief that I don't do well at on my own.  But because she and her husband made music together, this was really profound.  The blog of her story can be found at http://thislifeilive.com/ but the song I've been listening to this week is this:  http://thislifeilive.com/when-im-gone/  She went to be with the Lord on Friday. 

I just thought I share a little bit of what I'm thinking of.  I also got to preach on singleness from I Cor. 7:32-40...the Lord seems to have given me a unique perspective on such issues, being single until 38 and again single at 46.  May it be profitable for our church.

OK I need to sleep, but wanted to get some thoughts out there.  Thanks for your support and encouragement.

Matt

Follow Through with Brandi's Journal entry

Dear friends,

I have not been here in a while...some of that is good, in that the time we had that I talked about in January was a sweet, sad, wonderful gathering.  It was what I had hoped for...and I think it helped me turn another corner in this - there is not just one, but many corners to turn, but I realized a few days later that I have been ready to take some new steps of establishing and figuring out life together without Brandi.

I did want to follow up and post what I had promised but didn't.  This is something I found in Brandi's journals that she wrote just weeks before she died:

December 12, 2014

I didn’t even read any of the John and Betty Stam biography today, but I did get to reflect on it some.  I am thankful for how it is helping me think properly about life and death.  I know that my life is not my own, it has been bought with a price and I have willingly given it to my Lord.  I think I struggle because cancer feels different than laying it down as a martyr (though, I am I really as brave as I hope I would be?).  It feels like it is being taken for no good reason.  And yet I know that God is sovereign. Nothing happens, no life is taken by murderers or sickness, that is outside of Your control or Your ability to stop or change it.  You are writing the story (STORY) that you are writing and it is bigger than my little piece.  And yet you love my little piece, too.  You love me.  And Lord, again, I bow before you and say that you are worthy – your ways, your thoughts, higher than mine.  Help me to trust.  I’ve also been thinking about a “normal” life.  And thinking that I’m not sure “normal” is what this life is meant for.  There are wonderful ordinary moments.  But I think “normal” for here is meant to be poured out, sacrificial, laid down.  The normal I crave here and so often strive after is maybe the normal that comes later – when all the wrongs are made right and the tears are wiped away to be no more and we finally rest together.  “He is no fool who give sup what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”  I have so many doubts and fears – but what I know and believe:  you are good, you are worthy.  And that you have the words of eternal life.  Where else would I go?

Words that brought tears but smiles of remembrance, of her faith, her transparency, her humility, her clinging to Christ.  I miss her.

Matt

Gathering of Rememberance

Hi Friends,

Tomorrow at 4 PM we are having a gathering at church - I am fighting for it to not be called a service, because my hope is that it will be more about connecting with others in community than a formal service.  I wrote a brief welcome for the gathering, which I thought I'd include below.

"Though it [loss] is a solitary experience we must face alone, loss is also a common experience that can lead us to community.  It can create a community of brokenness.  We must enter the darkness of loss alone, but once there we will find other with whom we can share life together." Jerry Sittser

Dear friends,

First of all, thank you for all of your love for us - some of you have known us for many years, some for the past few, but your presence here is a reminder of all the dear friends and family that the Lord has surrounded us with as we have walked this road - not a road we ever would have chosen, and one which has been for sure dark at times (and still is, at times), but a road that in that darkness the Lord has used you to love us, and that is a huge encouragement.
 

Thank you for joining us - in Brandi's absence, our gathering to remember her and to share both grief and loss and memories is the very thing that she would have loved and longed for.  My hope and prayer for our time today is that we would be able to share together as a community of brokenness - broken because we have, together, lost one whom we loved so much.  I hope you will feel the freedom to share not only memories of Brandi, but also of your experience of losing her, whether sadness, regret, anger, confusion, or joy, gladness to know her and remember how she was a blessing to you, ways that her life changed yours.

In sharing together these things, may the Lord build us into a community of love that Brandi so longed for in her own life and for our church.  In an ideal world, we would be gathering in a living
room, with tea and hot chocolate on the sideboard, comfy cushions to sit on, and a fire in the fireplace...that is the kind of gathering Brandi loved.   We may not have the setting, but we can bring the heart.  Thank you for being here.

with love

Matt

I also found, in the back of Brandi's last journal, a list of songs and books that were important or encouraging for Brandi in the last few years.  If you are interested, here are the lists:

Shattered Dreams - Larry Crabb
To the Golden Shore - Courtney Anderson
Rose from Brier - Amy Carmichal
Free Grace and Dying Love - Susanna Spurgeon
When Life and Beliefs Collide - Carolyn Custis James
Comfort from the Cross - Elyse Fitzpatrick
The Pursuit of Holiness - Jerry Bridges
When I Don’t Desire God - John Piper
My Heart in His Hands - Sharon James
The Shadow of the Almighty - Elisabeth Elliot

One other book that she loved and I have read and given to others on her behalf:
Stepping Heavenward - Elizabeth Prentiss

Songs:

Blessings – Laura Story
By Faith – Keith and Kristyn Getty
I Will Praise Him Still – Fernando Ortega
These are Written – The Lockwoods
Speak O Lord – Getty’s
I Will Rise – Chris Tomlin
10,000 Reasons – Matt Redman
Broken Hallelujah – The Afters
Before the Throne of God Above - (we like the Sovereign Grace rendition)
In Christ Alone - Stuart Townend
Come to Me – Bethel Music
Desert Song – Hillsong United
While I’m Waiting – John Waller
Oceans (When Feet May Fail) – Hillsong United
Blessed Assurance – (I like the Steven Curtis Chapman version on Deep Roots)
And Can it Be? – (We liked the Sovereign Grace rendition)
It is not Death to Die – Sovereign Grace
How Firm a Foundation – (We love the Fernando Ortega rendition)
My Anchor holds – Lifepoint Worship
Christ is Risen – Matt Maher
Immovable our Hope Remains – Sovereign Grace
He will hold me Fast – Matt Merker

I hope this is encouraging for you.  Tomorrow I will share a quote from Brandi's last journal days...

Love

Matt