The Widow Ruth

Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. 2 Peter 1:4.

Sometimes thriving in life as a widow means listening to how God wants you to participate in His divine nature.  It’s different for each of us because a widow’s walk is never carved in stone.  The Lord asks some of us to weather it quietly—grieving and accepting the loss as your heart allows you to—one step at a time. The Lord sometimes asks us to move forward boldly, letting go of fear so that through our boldness, we protect the younger ones He has put in our care from the corruption in the world.


When the Lord leads you to step forward boldly, you might have fear over what the world thinks of you as you move forward and lead your own life into the future without leaning on an earthly husband.  I think of the widow, Ruth, and her obedience to the Lord and how it led to bold steps on her part, choosing to remain with her mother-in-law, choosing to gather grain behind the harvesters in Boaz’s fields, and presenting herself to Boaz in a humble but brazen gesture to petition him to claim her as his wife.

Ruth was brave, and yet so loved by the Lord for her obedience that He blessed her by allowing the bloodline of His only Son to run through her.


Imagine how fear could grip a woman in her situation faced with deciding whom to align herself with, how to provide for herself, and whether to pursue a new marriage.  As a widow, you might feel it too.  Widowhood can be a life full of fear if you allow yourself to get overwhelmed.


I’m reminded today to stop fear in its tracks for it is not from the Lord. I consider what my pastor told me after he took three of my sons on a Gettysburg Father-son retreat. He reassured me that decisions I’ve made since Tom has died have been good ones, evidenced by a Christ awareness my kids displayed on that trip with him.  He told me my children seem to have no trouble going against the grain of the world.  In other words, under my leadership which came straight from the guidance of the Lord, for the time being, they have escaped “the corruption in the world caused by evil desires”.


The Lord sometimes speaks through the words of blessings from others, and my pastor’s words were well-timed at a moment when I felt overwhelmed. I marvel at their progress, because many times my decisions go against the grain of this world, to the point of coming under scrutiny of others who aren’t sure what to think when a widow steps out in boldness. Some don’t understand that my choices are not my own. I’ve allowed the Lord to lead.


Sometimes people of the world want to tell you how as a widow you’ve been beaten. You’ve suffered loss. You’re supposed to recoil, curl up in a ball and feel sorry for yourself.


There is that place where you need to be alone and recover.  And sometimes that can take a while, but there was a point after Tom died where the Lord told me, grieve but don’t recoil. Break free. Burst forth in radiance because my four boys will watch and follow. They will be marked forever in their souls by the choices I make as a widow.


They will either see themselves as victims or see themselves as stepping forward by following and staying safely inside the Eye of the storm—accepting that what Satan doles out with the intention of evil, God takes and turns around for His Glory.


If you feel a prompting in your heart to follow a purpose the Lord has laid out for you, I encourage you to pray about it.  Don’t let fear stop you. Let the peace that only comes from the Holy Spirit prevail over you.  He will lead you.  It’s His great and precious promise.

Not Intimidated!

   Don't hold back—you're not going to come up short. You'll forget all about the humiliations of your youth, and the indignities of being a widow will fade from memory.

Isaiah 54-4

When I used to work in the corporate world, I had a friend who was a mover and a shaker.  By now, I’m quite sure Ed is a CEO somewhere in this universe.

Ed’s motto was don’t ask permission.  Do what you’ve got to do and apologize for it later!  He wasn’t a rule breaker, but Ed found success at every corner because people knew whatever he touched was going to get done and in a big way.

Christian, my eight-year-old, has the same motto.   I like the way he thinks.  When I took the boys to the local theme park, Carowinds, he was determined to ride the new roller coaster… The Intimidator.  Never mind that he’s about four inches shy of the height requirement!

Here he is standing as tall as he can with every trick in the book—tall Healey roller shoes that add about an inch and two hats stacked tall on his head. The Carowinds official measured him and sadly shook his head while choking back his laugh. 

Christian didn’t give up, he went to Top Gun next, and then the BORG Assimilator—two of the biggest coasters in the park.  Every time a park official with a big measuring stick shook his head, Christian smiled and stepped away, undaunted. 

“You’ll just have to eat your green vegetables,” I said.

Christian has since become a connoisseur of snap peas and carrots.  “I’ll keep trying,” he says.  “If I keep trying, someone will think I’m tall enough.”

I thought about Christian and Ed.

Then I thought about us ladies who have to take on life with unexpected challenges, like doing it alone when you thought you’d always have your husband by your side.

Sometimes, I think the world expects us to fold, to ask permission for steps we have to take to move forward.  I suppose I don’t think so, I know so.  I remember a decision I made a year after Tom died. I chose to build that sun porch Tom and I always wanted to build. 

I had a close friend question me on it. She worried over my decision to spend the money, and took it upon herself to discuss it among our circle of friends. It shook me up for a bit, not because I wondered whether my decision was sound, but because I wondered whether our friendship could endure her criticism.  It’s a sad reality but some friendships don’t survive when you loose your husband.  When you move forward as head of the household, you might find friends and loved ones unaccustomed to seeing you take on that role.  But you can’t hide behind a husband anymore. You have to become your own mover and shaker.

So I built the sun porch without anyone’s permission but God’s.  And guess what?  He blessed it. I didn’t even have to apologize for it later!  I’ve had it for two years now and the boys love it.  We have it wired with a flat screen and a DVD and it becomes movie central for the kids in the neighborhood on summer nights.  I consider it one of the best decisions we made in these years without Tom.

Lord, Please continue to guide me as I lean on You for direction.  When I seek permission, let it be You and only You I seek it from.  Help me to have the courage to act on Your guidance and not worry about the crowds, just as Christian kept walking unabashed to one ride official after another, going after his goal.

I pray for every woman having to step into that role as head of household, that she know she has You to turn to in all things.

Christi Redeemer

We were in a little Cessna flying over Rio de Janeiro.  It was breathtaking—the hillsides, the boats on the blue water with snow white beaches, the little villas, the Catholic churches with ornate steeples, the Christi Redeemer, and the lush green forests.  It was picture perfect clear visibility, and then...

A bank of clouds. We were cloaked in white, and it was only my sister and I in a single engine plane.  We hardly knew how to operate the thing, much less without visual flight rules. Panic rose inside me.

Enough panic to wake me from my dream. I wasn’t in Brazil.  I might visit a close friend there soon, but I'm not crazy enough to fly around in a Cessna with my sister!

So why did the dream leave me uneasy this morning?  I thought about two women in my life, both undergoing scary procedures today.  

One has an outpatient procedure to figure out why her throat keeps closing in which gives her scary episodes of blocked breathing, and another with a inflammation in her lymph nodes embedded around her lungs. It could mean a dangerous disease.  Both women are mothers with beautiful children who need them just as my children need me.

Illness can hit anyone out of the blue like the bank of clouds in my dream. That's scary in itself, but imagine these women having to trust doctors while they are put under. It's like turning off your visual controls in an airplane and trusting the air traffic controllers. 


4:30 AM.  Their surgeries would be in a few hours. You think, maybe my dream was a call to pray?   

Lord, please carry my two friends today as they go through their tests and surgeries.  Keep them and their families confident in it all.  These procedures take place everyday all around the country and the doctors are well practiced.  Nevertheless, only part of the confidence comes from their skill.  Most of our confidence is in Your Sovereignty, Lord.  Lord, I ask for Your special Presence in those operating rooms, and that these ladies and their families feel that Presence and are covered in warm confidence by It.  That You walk them through every moment of the procedures and move the hands that work on them with such delicate balance that the procedure gives them answers they need and does it in such a way that they are free of pain once the procedures are over— that they recover quickly and have answers from the tests. Answers that put them on roads to solutions that will have them living their lives and mothering their children just as they did before their health issues began in the first place. I love these families, and I love You, Lord, and I pray humbly believing.  Amen.

Amazing how I could then go back to sleep having accomplished what He woke me to do.  Praying for others relaxes your own heart and gives you rest in Him. We are carried in His hands and our protection is ultimately with Him, not in this world.

"We have the best Christmas family!"

Aren't these words every mom wants to hear?   Can you believe I had the joy of hearing this from my eight year old on Sunday evening?

With Christmas music blaring over speakers throughout the house, the four boys and I were on our fifth hour of putting up the Christmas decorations.  I was just marveling at how few arguments the boys had, and how the whole day they stayed focus on the fun of the lights and holly.  No one grumbled.  Everyone helped.  "How is that?" I asked myself, remembering some of the arguments my brothers and sisters and I had while putting up decorations long ago.

I don't pretend that the future might hold something very different.  You never know what will be when there are four boys in the mix.  But for now, we so incredibly blessed.  So blessed.

So blessed.  Those words ran through my head just as Christian, as if to read my mind, looked up from his string of colored lights and said, "Mom, we have the best Christmas family ever!"

"Why is that, Christian," I asked, partly wanting to figure out what's in this child's head to make him say such a random sweet thought, but secretly wanting to find answers myself....  why is it, after the heavy blow our family took two years ago, we feel truley happy right now?  How?

"Because we only ask Santa for one present," Christian answered with a matter-of-fact smile.

From the mouths of babes.  That was Tom's legacy.  Appreciate what we have on our plates and don't demand more.  Just choose to be happy.

Tom and I unplugged that Christmas machine years ago, and decidedly made Christmas cozy and light.  It started years ago when Tom's teenagers told me something that rang true for me.  Christmas became a disappointment when they became teens.  It's only normal - the way people are wired.  When you start young kids off on a diet of present after present after present... mostly affordable toys, they begin to find the glow of Christmas only in the shine from the foil wrapping.  Once the toys for teenagers get more expensive, there aren't as many.  Less foil, less fun.

That's because it was the wrong fun.

It was bling.  Empty bling. That's why we unplugged the bling.  Now everyone gets one present.  Two if you include Santa!   Hey, with four boys, that's already eight gifts, and they're just as happy sharing their toys with each other... it's still fun!

Meanwhile, here's some other benefits!   No more panicking at 1 in the morning on Christmas because we hadn't gotten all those presents wrapped!  Less shopping.  No demands from the kids.  In fact, now that the boys only get one or two gifts, they don't even make lists.   They start to, and then stop and smile and say, "no, just surprise me!"  And best of all, the presents they get are quality.  Like a puppy, or a cell phone, or a cotton candy maker.  Something that can be and is used all year round.

I know what I want this year for Christmas.  For my boys to keep that family bond, forever!

Lord, please give me one gift this Christmas.  Protection.  Protect the family bonds we have.  I love it Lord, that the boys each have three best friends- each other.  They have many other friends, but they love their home.  It's safe, it's happy.  Please Lord, don't give me more, just keep blessing me with what You've already given me!

Merry Christmas!

Here are some of the snapshots that didn't make it on the card this year...

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Shhhhh, quiet... I'm chasing God's Whisper!

After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

1 Kings 19:12

Did you ever have a mini Elijah moment.  I could never compare myself to someone as God fearing and gifted as Elijah, but I’m talking about a mini-moment, where I could relate to the vulnerability in Elijah and needing to go to the mountaintop to be with God. Reginna Dettra has a blog party going on today where she's asking us to give us our thoughts on God whispers.  You can flip on over and check out other writings on the story in 1 Kings.  Here's where the Elijah moment touched me recently.

One Sunday morning I was in that moment.  I guess  I was thinking about how my life has been so busy with the boys lately that I hadn't been out as much.  There I was, busy in a kitchen with a dirty pan full of bacon grease and four boys telling me how great the scrambled eggs were.  “You’re the greatest, Mom.”

The greatest.  I  thought of the romantic embraces I used to get from my husband on Sunday mornings when he made the Sunday breakfasts.   Of course they think I’m great- I’m their mom.  There are moments when I just want another adult around! 

I tried to turn my attention back to the dishes.  To forget and focus on the job at hand.  God asked me why I hid in my cave.  .  What are you doing here?   I knew  He wanted me to get out of my house and come to His. I left the dishes in the sink and went to church with the boys.


I walked up to the church entry feeling particularly vulnerable.  Like I wanted to talk to a friend-- to feel normal again. In the doorway, an angelic looking blonde woman stopped me, “Didn’t you speak at the church a couple of weeks ago?” 

Yes I had.  Just a quick testimony about God's comfort in my loss.


She was so  kind.  Her three practically perfect looking blonde children, all dressed neatly, darted around her legs.  “It really touched me..” she added, “I’m in a tough place and I needed to hear.....”

Just then, one of my friends walked up, “HI, KITTY!    WHAT’VE YOU BEEN DOING THIS WEEKEND!   WE MISSED YOU!”   I’m writing in capital letters because, unlike the little blonde woman, this friend is bold.  Not a bad bold—bold in a good way.  In a way which makes her well liked at my church-  just so much fun with a wonderfully powerful positive presence.   In my vulnerability, I turned to my friend and soaked in her attention, imagining God, Himself, shouting at me, I LOVE YOU, through this woman.  It felt so good.  Like a salve, covering the lonely hole exposed by a weekend of no social life, just me and the kids.

Guilt nagged at me as the blonde had disappeared somewhere into the building while I chatted with my friend.  She's a godly woman, but God wasn’t calling me to be at church for her brazen praises.  As I sat down in the sanctuary, the loneliness of not sitting next to a husband lingered in my heart and followed me back to the car. Most everyone had left the church grounds.   


Everyone but three neatly dressed blonde children prancing about the front door. Go see her.  I felt the whisper deep in my soul.   I headed for the church.   The blonde walked by.  I was about to stop her when another friend, Mike, stopped me to ask how I was doing.  I didn’t want to be rude so I chatted, missing the woman again.   Mike isn’t loud like my first friend, but he’s so well respected that Mike's reputation practically shouted without Mike himself being loud. Mike talks with everyone, but today, it felt like a God thing that he stopped to speak to me.  Mike and I wrapped up our conversation, and he moved on, packing up his teaching kit from Sunday school and leaving for the parking lot.  


I thought of how how empty I still felt after Mike left.  No, as much as God works through Mike so often, God wasn’t shouting to me through him this morning either.  God wouldn’t leave with Mike, He would fill the hole with living water so it would stop hurting.

The blonde passed me again in the hallway, this time heading for the exit, her back turned.  Go to her.  I knew that gentle whisper which guided me to the unassuming woman. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi, I’m really sorry I let myself get distracted from meeting you...”

She turned towards me, a sweet smile on her face.  Her red swollen eyes told me she hung around the halls of the church for a reason.  

My heart sank to hear that her husband was leaving her and her three small children.  Her future uncertain, she declared, as sweet as can be, “but God is certain!  Look how he brought us together to meet.  I was hanging around the halls hoping to make a new friend,” she said.  “I need to connect in this church now that my children and I will be alone.  Jared, my oldest, needs a friend.  He’s 9.”


We glanced out the front door of the building to see Jared and my 9 year old already playing. Instant friends.  Soon we were exchanging numbers.

I walked back to my car finally filled... not by the approval of others, but by God Himself.  I thought about how peacefully this lady accepted the table set before her.   She admitted she was needing friendship and then sweetly asked for it.  Wow was that soothing to me in a way that drowned out my thoughts about myself.  All selfish ambitions… gone.

Shouts from the bold friends didn’t soothe me, but the humble admittance from the new meek one was the whisper from the Lord that I don’t need attention, I only need to remember who I am in His plan.

Thank you, Lord, for the whisper, sent through a pretty blonde with red swollen eyes.

Monkeys in Williamsburg

When my friend, Lisa, from Phoenix, wanted to visit colonial Jamestown and Williamsburg, I had vivid memories of the place.  In Richmond, where I grew up, those attractions were standard fare for fourth grade field trips.  I already knew what fun the boys and Lisa's kids were in for.  Here's a quick run down...

When you visit Williamsburg, you can rent costumes for the kids to wear.   Christian and Lisa's boy, Colby, were regular colonial boys with their haversacks, rifles, hats and colonial shirts.  These two looked like identical twins when Colby lived here three years ago.  Especially as four year olds when they both sucked their middle two fingers the same way! Colby has since filled out much more than Christian has.  Christian is still a skinny picky eater, but they still could pass for brothers!  Colby's sister, Charlotte, wore the colonial girl's costume.  What a darling!

Next we headed down Duke of Gloucester Street,  Of course the kids had to stop at the stockades.  It's no fun unless they get to lock up us parents!


At the Capital Building, the kids learned where the seeds of our separation of powers started.  Would you believe that the members of one of the legislative houses were also the justices on the highest court handling all appeal cases?  Surprised us adults, but the kids were more interested in how first time offenders got to choose to go free if they allowed themselves to be branded..  "T" for Thief.  Ouch!

We stopped at the magazine, where the kids got to join the militia.  Here's Colby getting strict instructions from his sergeant on how to properly handle his gun.



We couldn't tear those boys away from watching the blacksmith.  I'm thinking I better be careful.  They were so fascinated that if I don't watch what they're doing, they might try forging something in our garage!


Finally we lunched at the King's Tavern.   Hot soup and cider were welcomed by all of us.  Temperatures were in the frigid forties.  What a shock for Lisa and her kids after seasonal temperatures around the nineties in Phoenix!  Something about cold temperatures while site seeing is just fine with us, though.  It makes the whole experience more memorable!


Coming back home was nice, but something about being on vacation is just so relaxing.  Lisa's telling me she hopes her good mood will last. I see what she means. I'd like to think we could just hold on to those peaceful moments with no pressure but to take in the sites and learn!

Ten Crazy Time Saving Ideas for Moms with Boys

Okay, so my friend, Hillary, over at www.theothermama.com wants me to post something crazy.  Check out her list, she's pretty crazy all the time, and I love to read what she's up to!   Flat out running all the time, I feel like I'm always a bit crazy myself.  So here are some of the crazy ways I manage a household of four boys as a single mom.  Hope they make you smile. Maybe you'll think something in here is so crazy it just might work for you!

• One....   the  Box O Sox....    Once we find a  volume discount, we get 40 IDENTICAL pairs of sox, and get rid of all other boy socks in the house.  Voila! We never need to match.  We keep them clean with a good dose of bleach in the wash and toss each clean sock into the same box- no pairing no rolling, no sorting!  

• Two...   I Mark my Territory in Pink...  I remember looking over at my stepson's feet when he lived with us years ago.  "Mike, why do you have my Anne Taylor socks on?"  He didn't know any better, they were an elegant coffee color.  I learned my lesson.  When I want something left alone, I get it in pink or at least with dash of pink flowers.  Pink's not my favorite color, but wow it repels boys!   My cell phone skin, my Macbook cover, my socks, my hoodie--all pink!  Pink chases away boys faster than spiders chase away girls! 

• Three...  I'll be in the car!    Learned this from a genius mom at a dentist office years ago.  With four school aged kids in the waiting room, she stood up and announced, "kids, I'll be in the car."  With that, she calmly left without looking back.  I was shocked.  How could she leave them like that?  Actually, I was a bit jealous, and soon I knew why she had such confidence.  Within seconds, the kids calmly put away their coloring books, arranged their backpacks, and were out the door only steps behind Mom.  No whining, nagging, or fighting.  I adopted her ways from then on.  I still pinch myself-  it works!  I never have trouble getting the kids gathered up to leave.  Just lead.  When it comes down to it, kids really want to follow you.

• Four...  Assembly Line Groceries:  It's tough enough clipping all the coupons and keeping up with shopping for five.  So when I get home, I leave the unloading to the boys.  They turn it into fun. When I hear them shout, "ASSEMBLY LINE", I get curious and peak in on them.  This is what I find... the oldest grabbing the bags from the car, knotting the handles so nothing falls out, tossing it to the second oldest who's riding a scooter and scoots over to the third who's standing in the back doorway and handing it over to the youngest who brings it to the kitchen counter.   Once the car's empty, they form their next assembly line to the refrigerator or pantry.  In case you're worried, by now I've gotten wise enough to carry the eggs and bread in myself!

• Five...   Videogamerama Kitchen Clean Up:   Years ago Dad showed them where they can find dozens of audioclips from their favorite video games - like Mario Brothers or Sonic the Hedgehog.   They take turns switching the clips on the kitchen computer from one to another while they work as a team to clean up in the style of the clip.  When Mario's swimming clip comes on, the younger ones "swim" through the counters as they wipe.  When the sped up clip comes on, they rush like little madmen to get the kitchen done.

• Six...   Count Your Age Pick Up:  With four boys and a puppy chocolate lab (who takes those 'indestructible' dog toys as a challenge, chewing them into a thousand pieces within about 20 minutes), I do have my moments where I simply have to have a picked up house.  When I'm at the point, I simply shout out "Count your age pick up!"   The boys rocket into action, grabbing objects that need picking up (from bits of trash to books that need to be shelved), counting as many as their age.  Within seconds, the house looks fresh and clean! 

• Seven...   Secret Hideout Devotion Time:  We find a special nook in the house for devotions, like an empty closet we can all fit in (including the dog).  We take our flashlights and a lit laptop and huddle together to make the moment special.  I love this not just because it gets us feeling warm and cozy, but also it keeps the younger ones from having too much space and wrestling around.  We can actually get some cool discussions going on.

• Eight...   Brotherly Love Bucks: Occasionally we'll resurrect a form of allowance that's based on heart.   Each day they have the opportunity to "earn" extra rewards through character.  Oh, they have to do their schoolwork, chip in with chores, and practice their violin, anyway, but if they have a cheerful heart, they earn dividends on top of it.  The icing on the cake is the brotherly love buck.  They get together and vote, and only one of the four boys gets the buck.  As they cast their vote, they have to explain what that brother did to earn their brotherly love buck.

• Nine...     Fiddling Around:   I wanted the boys learning an instrument, and when they didn't seem to have a particular one in mind, I figured why not streamline- just make violin part of their school routine.   What a crazy blessing now.   When they get really rambunctious and I need to whip the house in shape, I send them all in the backyard with their violins.  They've figured out on they're own how to play songs together and have a blast.  The oldest now plays "Devil Went Down to Georgia" and all of them can play a decent Swallowtail Jig together.   Other times, like right now, as I'm typing, they decided they all HAVE to practice their violin at the same time, and my house becomes a funky cacophony of four fiddles.  Cracks me up!

• Ten...    Buddy Brothers:  From an early age, I paired up the brothers.  The oldest with the third, and the second oldest with the youngest.   Makes my life sane and keeps the boys mentoring each other.  At a restaurant when someone needs to go to the bathroom we simply say, "Buddy Brother" and right away, that little guy's big buddy walks him to the bathroom

Hope these were fun to read.  By now you either think I'm nuts or maybe you have a peek at how I survive with my sense of humor intact!  Blessings!

Child Whisperer

"… and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." Matthew 28:20 (KJV)

While praying and preparing for our new puppy last winter, our family watched a weekly TV show to learn about dog training. It's the Dog Whisperer. There's this amazing guy- Cesar Millan, who teaches dog owners how to train their dog using the pack psychology of canines.

In every show, Cesar looks for the one person in the home whom the dog will see as the leader of the pack. Looking at my family as a pack, no one can argue that without Tom, I'm the pack leader.   Seems I get more than just canine training while watching Cesar Millan. He makes me think about how important my role is, as mom, to be the proper kind of "Child Whisperer".

Cesar talks about "energy".   He says dogs sense and respond to energy in the room as opposed to understanding what’s being said or done in the room. When my eight year old creates a commotion, Jeb starts to jump in circles and wag his tail.  And when two of my boys argue, Jeb will lower his tail and slink to the side of the room.  If someone in the room is crying or worried, you can see that Jeb's not interested in play or even eating.  He'll sit right by that boy as if to say, "go ahead and hug me.  That's what I'm here for." 

When the energy Jeb feels in the room consumes him, it's pointless for me to try to teach him anything new.  I first have to bring the energy to a peaceful level if I want Jeb to relax and obey.  Caesar calls that level "calm assertive energy".

Calm assertive energy.  Isn't calm assertive energy a secret ingredient for helping my children through grief over losing Dad.

With each challenge of grief brings, the Holy Spirit plainly directs me to respond with confidence. And since that direction unmistakably comes from Him, He also provides the confidence. He fills me with it as I take calm steps to obey and take my role as leader of the pack.  I feel the filling, and joy fills my heart as I look them straight in the eye and tell the boys the Lord’s got their future under control. We are safe in His hands, just as He declares in Matthew 28:20.

During that first  year after losing his father, Brian, then ten years old, felt a heavier

weight of grief than his brothers.  It's the age. At ten years old, a child's understanding of death hits with all its weight.    At first I wasn't sure how to help him. When he had a melt down about missing Dad, my natural instincts as a mother would make me want to give in to tears. I'm glad for motherly instincts. They allowed me to curl up and cry and grieve with him- something he needed to know was normal. But Brian has instincts too. He knew that there are safe places to cry, and not-so-safe places to cry. Sometimes in public he needed to manage those tears, saving them until he’s safe at home with me.  Together, Brian and I learned to function through his grief with school and in other areas where life simply must go on.

That’s where calm assertive energy that only comes from God came in. When one of the boys comes to me missing Dad, I respond with understanding hugs and tears that come easily.  But when it’s time to help a child move forward, I feel this surge of unexplainable peace. It’s only then that I’m able to calmly reassure him without my own eyes welling up with tears. 

And when the boy responds with calm assertiveness, I'm so rewarded. It brings me such joy to see resolve return enough for Brian to walk into the classroom he needs to join or the violin recital he needs to perform in.

No matter what helpful tips people offer on raising kids, only one is at the heart.  It’s a God-filled attitude around our home that carries kids.
Calm assertive energy. Isn’t that what the Holy Spirit offers?  Two years after his Dad died, I have the Holy Spirit to thank for the peace in Brian's heart today.

Lord, thank you for the one gift that You steadily offer me – peace and calm. The confidence I have in the future isn’t based on this world, but only on You and Your promise that You are with me, even to the end of the world. You give me the vision of seeing these four boys, not as children, but as young men prepared to spread Your glory to the ends of the world. Your Holy Spirit’s calm assertive energy will stick with them, knowing You are with them always.

Destined for Greatness

Christian came crying to me tonight after all of his brothers were asleep.

“I miss Dad.”

I held him close and cuddled with him on the couch, waiting in silence for the prompting from the Holy Spirit to help me find the right words that will heal. When it came, the right words seemed so obvious.

“It’s hard growing up without a dad isn’t it, Christian.” That’s when the tears burst out. In between the sobs he was spitting out words about Dad and come here and died. I couldn’t put it together, but it seemed very important to him. I calmed him down with caresses and then encouraged Christian to spell out what was bothering him.

“He was trying to tell me something. He said, ‘Christian, come here’. But he died before he got to tell me. I never found out what he wanted to tell me.”

“You mean in the pool when he was by the wall, he wanted to tell you something?” I asked.

“Yes, he called my name,” Christian cried, “now I’ll never know.”

The pain of loss felt so deep to me. So deep. I tried to imagine how horrible it must feel for this tiny child to know that he missed out on his Dad’s final words. But I privately felt relief that Christian didn’t go to him. Imagine the terror Christian might have felt to see his Dad slip under the water with a heart attack.

Again I waited. Waited for the Lord's prompting. Tell me the right words, Lord. Guide me- this is too big for me to tackle, but nothing's too big for You.

When again I felt His guidance, the words slipped easily off my tongue without a thought of forming them. They were His words, not mine.

“Christian, what do you think Dad wanted to tell you?”

“I think he wanted to show me how to do the four man lift. I never got to do that one and all the other brothers did. I think he wanted to finally do it with me.”

I thought about how young Christian was in those final years of Tom’s life when the older brothers were big enough to enjoy rough play in the water- being tossed in the air and whipped around in the water. Christian was only five during that time – not a strong enough swimmer for that.

“I wish you could have tried those games with Dad in the water.”

Christian got quiet and then started to cry again. This time with a thought that must have been surfacing for a while.

“No one listens to me,” he quietly said. “When I tell them it’s time for dinner, no one looks up or stops. When the older kids say it’s time for dinner they all go right away.”

I nodded knowingly. “I know all about that, Christian. Same thing happened to me when I was growing up. Remember how many were in my family?”

“Eight,” he said.

“Know which one I was?”

“The youngest.”

“I know exactly how you feel. Christian. It’s like that in every family. It’s easier to obey the older ones. It’s only because you’re the youngest. And that will change when you get older. My family listens to me a lot now.”

Christian looked like he needed more convincing.

“Christian it’s like this. When you’re the oldest, all you have to do is say do this, and the younger ones do it. How hard is that? But the youngest, like you and I, have to work at it. We have to negotiate, earn respect, and figure out how to get people to cooperate without bullying. That’s why sometimes the youngest ends up being a good leader.”

Tell him about David, I felt in my heart.

“You remember David in the Bible? He ended up being the King of Israel and he was the youngest of lots and lots of brothers.” Christian didn’t seem to know this fact.

“It happened like this. He was such a tiny little kid, that when a prophet of God came to tell his father, Jesse, that God would show the prophet which of Jesse's son was to be king, Jesse showed every other brother to the prophet except for David.

“The prophet shook his head and said, ‘no, there must be another son because I’m sure God told me the next king lives right here in this home.

“Jesse finally admitted there was a tiny runt of a kid named David that was out in the field that day but surely, God wouldn’t pick the tiniest.

“’Bring him here,’ Jesse said, and when shown the tiny boy the prophet felt moved by God to say, ‘yes, this will be the king.”

Christian’s face brightened, “and then he killed Goliath!”

“That’s the guy,” I answered, “you see, sometimes it’s being the youngest that teaches you how to be a leader.

Now tell him about Joseph, I felt prompted.

“And know who else was a great leader? Joseph. Remember, he was the youngest of 11 when the other brothers threw him in a well. But he became a top leader in Egypt. The youngest in a big family learns how to deal with people because they have to.”

I felt like that was enough so I just stayed quiet.

Christian did to.

Finally, another prompting.

“Christian, you are going to be great one day. God has a special purpose for you. Who knows, president? I wonder if Dad knew that and wanted to tell you that. Who knows, maybe that’s why he called you over.”

Christian smiled.

“You know, Christian, when Dad called your name, he was at the side of the pool already. He knew something was wrong. He had stopped throwing the football with Joe and he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he knew his body was done. Maybe he felt how incredibly special you are and maybe God told him that there was special greatness in you. Maybe he was so excited that he wanted to tell you. Isn’t it amazing that when Dad was feeling sick and resting by the side of the pool while having a heart attack he was thinking of you? He wasn’t thinking at all about himself. No, he loved you so much that calling you’re name was what he was thinking about. Maybe he just wanted to tell you, ‘Christian, you’re special.’ Christian do you think you’re special’?”

Christian was decidedly more upbeat now and he nodded. He seemed to choose, at that point, that he was destined for greatness.

And I think he is.

A Snapshot of Buggy Sunglasses

Proverbs 15:15 All the days of those who are crushed are filled with pain and suffering. But a cheerful heart enjoys a good time that never ends.

When asked how he was blessed today, Christian answered, "My blessing is that I have my shirt off and Mom surprised me with Macaroni and Cheese because I was good at school today. So it reminds me of my birthday when I got the buggy sunglasses and my cousins and Daddy were here."

Remember those split moments of childhood where you can recall EVERYTHING about the scene? Details like- who you were with, what you were wearing, and the sense of excitement? Everything seemed so magical that, as a child, you took an emotional snapshot to keep in your heart forever.

A snapshot that you pull out now and again, when a certain smell or breeze or situation brings a rush of cheer that takes you right back to that split moment in time when you felt nothing but joy.

That’s the blessing that Christian described tonight.

I decided to give it a whirl. I closed my eyes and remembered that moment- he’s right – in both moments, Christian was special – birthday boy or boy who did well with school, he was being celebrated. In both moments he was surrounded by his favorite people. And, in both moments, he had his shirt off. I suddenly felt the joy of both moments as if it will last forever. And it can!

There are times when I feel so crushed by the heartache of loosing Tom. It takes a child's perspective sometimes to remind us that we can choose to recall cheer and keep it forever.

Christ tells us to have the heart of a child. We were given that heart- our challenge is to recapture that cheer and enjoy a good time that never ends.

Continuing Family Traditions in the Midst of Loss

Proverbs 1:8 Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction…

He wasn’t there. And strangely, the name "Dad" didn’t come up as often as I had thought it would. And when it did, it was in joyful remembrance, with not an ounce of deep sorrow, just an occasional moment of thoughtful, "I wish he were here". It was our week in the cabin.

And yet, Tom was there. We honored him by continuing in his instruction. He was in every routine played out in "Dad" tradition- from how he looked after the security in the cabin, to how he balanced playtime with clean up time. He was in the new games invented by us this week, for each new inventive fun was a variation on the pureness of Tom’s nature.

I contentedly watched all four boys- seeing glimpses of Tom in each of them- Joe’s breezy logic, Brian’s serious creativity, Carter’s puppy-like frolic, and Christian’s wacky commentary. That cabin wrapped all of the children’s individualized reflections of Dad together into one small compact space where I could observe and relish them as a single unit that revealed the love of my life!

I felt surrounded by the warmth of him, and I knew that Christ was providing that security for me- allowing me to continue our traditional vacation in New England, in our cabin, the way we always had.

Dear Lord,
Thank you for the beauty of New England. Thank you for Tom’s wisdom of keeping our vacation traditions simple, so that the fun we have is truly centered on enjoying each other- not on being entertained. This time with the children was incredibly relaxed, spontaneous, and full of Your character- exactly as Tom would have had it. Thank you for helping us honor him by continuing in his instructions and turning his traditions into ours. Because we focused on You, our vacation felt whole and complete, knowing that the boys’ father happily sleeps in You as we play the way he had instructed us to.

Silencing a Storm – Dealing with Heartache Surrounding Tom’s Birthday

It would have been Tom's 50th birthday. Before saying anything about it, I must share with you this unbelievable card, made by Christian, 6 years old, for his daddy. I had to share this first, because if you read no further, you must know how intensely these boys get what life and death mean at a gut level.

Two cliffs – one with Daddy on it, the other with Christian on top. A bridge that supposed to connect the two cliffs drops down into the chasm and the railings of the bridge spell out, "HaPP bthday dbddeey". To fill in the gaping depth that separates Christian from Dad, Christian drew a huge cross.

Now I can continue with the details of that day. One of my friends who checked in on me that day told me, "Most widows would spend the day trying to forget about it.... you're always so different! So I never know if I should be thinking that it was all roses for you, or if I should be worried about you??!!!"

Absolutely there are roses- with thorns of pain- but there is joy in knowing that I'm embracing challenges as they come up.

In Matthew 8:26, Jesus reprimanded the disciples, "Why are you such cowards, such faint-hearts?" Then he stood up and told the wind to be silent, the sea to quiet down: "Silence!" The sea became smooth as glass.

Can you imagine a simple birthday making a coward of me? But it could.

I so get why a widow would prefer to just forget about her husband’s birthday. Daunting feelings of loss leap out at you, stinging you just the way it did when you first found out that you’ve lost him forever.

And by now, I'm so tired of firsts. First Trick or Treat, first vacation, first Christmas, first Easter, first birthday. It seems like an endless train of ceremony that I want to just "forget" about it.

But Christ asks us not to be faint of heart. He shows us by standing up and telling the wind to be silent.

Forgetting about a significant day doesn't work for kids or for me - it just pushes the terror of loneliness beneath the surface where it will bubble up in other ways.

As I looked at my four boys, who so loved to celebrate life with Dad, I knew exactly what I needed to do. Not run from that storm – silence it! Deal with it openly and honestly.

So the boys and I had a plan. We included crafts, a visit to the grave site, a hike and pizzeria outing, a bike ride, and a movie rental.

The day started very sad and awkward. The boys were acting so weird that I had to cut short our morning devotion, and get started on making cards and crafts for Dad. At first even that was awkward- some of the boys breaking into tears at the smallest of their errors, as though the entire work of art was now unworthy of Dad’s approval. We all knew what the tears were about – what was ruined wasn’t the card or craft, but the reality of having Dad with them here on earth.

Their tears dried and they became more resolute in their artwork when convinced that Dad sees everything through the eyes of Christ now. Imperfections in the artwork are simply evidence of the love and joy in the children’s hearts.

We brought the crafts to the site where Tom is buried and flew a model airplane there. There were also silly string battles and bubbles and a round of "Happy Birthday to You" to celebrate.
We went hiking about a mile away from our house to a pizza restaurant. This was something Tom did with them a lot. They had a blast getting muddy in the red clay "quick sand" and climbing mud hills.

We rented Spiderman II at Blockbuster and got Krispy Kreme Donuts at Harris Teeter and hiked back home.

Then it was time to pull out the bikes. We had them all repaired just for Tom's birthday. And Christian taught himself to ride a bike just this weekend. We rode on our neighborhood trail and on our cul-de-sac. Something so simple, but the kids LOVED it!

Then we settled down with the movie and sang Happy Birthday once more with the Krispy Kreme donuts in place of a cake.

The kids went to bed content that we honored Dad in a Tom kind of way.

The storm was silenced.

Thank you, Lord, for answering our obedience to celebrate with joy rather than to cower in defeat.

Rescue Me From Snakes!

Matthew 11:30 "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

You know the quality of a friend when she is willing to chop the head off of a snake for you!

Okay, it wasn't a copperhead. But it could have been! I could explain the whole story, but Michelle already has on her blog right here.

What I love about Michelle is her integrity, which shows through every thoughtful comment and action. When she heard my voice on the phone, and probably figured that I’m not the type of gal who freaks out about critters, Michelle seemed to recognize that what I really needed at that moment was just a reassuring hug.

There is something very emotional about seeing a snake – it drums up anxieties that you may not have realized are there.

I surprised myself when tears welled up. But the tears weren’t really about a snake. They were about me missing my knight in shining armor who would rescue me from snakes!

At that moment I just needed someone at my side as I experienced a rush of missing Tom.

It’s a strange new role I have, figuring out how to be the bugs and snakes and backyard parent too!

L. B. Cowman says to "flee every symptom of the deadly foe of discouragement as you would run from a snake. Never be slow to turn your back on it, unless you desire to eat the dust of bitter defeat."

Seeing that snake helped me recognize subtle snakes of discouragement that were beginning to form in my life.

What a wake up call! I realized just in time how I was missing Tom even more recently. With the change in weather, the boys are adding new demands on me to be outside and do what Tom used to do on top of managing the home. Grieving Tom is healthy, but only if I’m doing it by leaning on the Lord.

Lord, thank you for showing me that snake before discouragement set in. Thanks to You, I recognize that I started to carry my burden by myself, and now I've turned it over to You. Thank you for placing Michelle there at that moment as Your Hand, helping to carry the burden. You never fail in Your promises, and Your yoke is light.

I will flee the snakes of discouragement and choose to be honored that You consider me ready for snakes and spiders!

Assembly Required – Role Modeling Joy as a Single Mom

"Mom, can you help me fly my airplane?" Carter asked this weekend on his 8th birthday.

Here’s something that hadn’t occurred to me. After the party guests go home, after the house is tidied up and we all take that breather from the pounding noise at the Chuck E Cheese equivalent we just experienced, Carter would want to share his sweet gifts with me.

I have a college education, and believe it or not, an engineering degree. But still I get a bit daunted by this type of request. "Remote control", "kit", "assembly required" - these were buzzwords that translated to Dad’s job! After a while, it became convenient for me to rely on Tom for tackling these projects while I tended to our home.

Today I let the laundry sit. Carter needed help with his airplane, so I sat with him at the table. Carter watched me with eyes that anticipated, "Mom knows what she’s doing". Taking a deep breath to relax my butterflies, I carefully read the instructions with him and we assembled, charged the batteries, and took the plane for its virgin flight.

I had forgotten what a feeling of success these types of toys can bring. With every successful flight, I felt a zing of confidence building in me. If I can handle this, I might be able to handle the hovercraft he got, and then the trebuchet model kit the boys have waiting to be assembled. Perhaps I might even graduate to the Snap Circuits integrated circuit board kit (okay, even with an engineering degree- that might be pushing it!).

It occurred to me that what’s really being assembled is my heart. It’s not a sacrifice to handle Tom’s traditional role of toy assembly parent; it’s an honor. I now know why Tom gladly jumped at this job- it was one of his ways of teaching joy, his greatest legacy, to our boys.

Tom was so good at having fun that like many married couples, we tended to allow that fun role to go to him, while I carried on with some of the necessary household duties. Now the Lord is challenging me to find that right balance of tasks versus fun with the kids.

Lord, help me to continue to assemble the pieces of Tom magical formula for building Your joy into these boys' hearts. Because I got so practiced at the tasks of the household while Tom enthusiastically embraced fun at a minute-by-minute basis, I now find that I need to adjust. As strange as it sounds, I thank you for the situation I’m in. There is joy in the struggle of missing Tom, but knowing that without Your will allowing me to walk without him, I may never have allowed myself to get out of the task mode enough to fully experience the joy of Carter’s eighth birthday.

You’ve prepared me with everything I need to raise these children in Your grace to become men who will glorify You throughout their lives.

When Pain Outweighs the Joy

It doesn't happen often, so when it does, I grab hold of the Lord and remember that it will pass.

That night was one of those rough nights. I wasn’t really aware that I was headed for a rough night until I actually got there and sat in that auditorium as the kids started playing their violins.

Up to that point there were warning signs that my heart knew what my conscious mind wouldn’t admit – that there was a pending reminder that Tom was missing.

Early in the day I found I couldn’t get anything done. I piddled around the house and lectured myself at how much I had to do and why was I wasting time. I just couldn’t get myself motivated. Something was bothering me.

When I got to the auditorium I found myself snapping at the kids. Why was I angry when Christian wanted to use the bathroom and then resisted using the ladies room? Why was I impatiently rushing him, or shushing Carter when he asked perfectly normal questions about the recital?

The music started and the wave of memory flooded over me. I was alone. We had been in this same auditorium a dozen times in the past two years watching the children play, and Tom was always at my side.

I was so lonely. So lonely. These four precious boys being so cute and skillful and I had no one to share it with. I suddenly missed the way Tom would smile with that twinkle in his eye that said, "all that time I would make jokes about violins versus guitars was all just kidding, you’re doing a great job, Kitty, getting these boys trained on the violin."

The other moms gathered around me afterwards. I had forgotten about them. How they would want to welcome us back into this routine. It was sweet and uplifting. It was also awful. I wanted him. I just wanted to get this first over with so that I could rejoin these ladies and really enjoy them.

But tonight wasn’t the night for getting over it.

Because even after the recital, it wasn’t over. "Mom, remember the french fries!" they gleefully shouted as we climbed in the car. Oh yeah, the french fries. Tom always celebrated their performances with a huge order of McDonalds french fries. It’s a tradition that dates back to Tom’s childhood when his dad couldn’t afford the hamburgers, so their family’s "going out to eat" was a celebrated dinner of french fries at McDonalds.

I’m so grateful that He gives the boys a break from grief while it hits me hard. If it hit us all like that at the same time, we’d be a mess.

But the whole recital-McDonald process was grueling for me. Joyfully grueling. We laughed – the kids were cute and kind and fun and I laughed so hard. But inside I felt this deep wound surfacing. I just wanted to get home and get them in bed – no just skip getting them in bed – just have them asleep and me away from them so that I can get by myself and grieve.

Obediently, they got ready and prayed and shut the lights out. I thought the coast was clear and I could just be alone. Then footsteps. Carter approached in complete tears, "Mom, I can’t remember anything Dad said to me. I can’t remember any sentences."


My heart broke for him. And for me.

This is one of those moments that you just chuck your own agenda and your own feelings and put your kid first. I climbed into bed with him as though every ounce of me wasn’t screaming inside, "I just wanna be alone!" Together, we pulled out my laptop and watched every bit of Tom’s memorial DVD together.

Carter talked about that awful day. About how everyone cried at the funeral. About how he looked for Dad this morning in the house because he wanted to ask Dad to build a tent for him outside, and then remembered that Dad was dead.

We cried together and laughed together. I reminded Carter that he’s so much like Dad that Carter’s now my "Captain Sunshine".

My prayer is that Carter continues to smile the way he does - and especially the way he did with Tom. That these rough nights are the exception, not the rule.


Lord, I will trust You that Carter learns that he will be okay, that joy can always be a normal part of his life even without Dad. And I ask you to bring me back to that settled place where I can relax and be more in the moment with Carter. That I can help him experience joy the way Tom helped him experience joy. That You slow me down so that I am really there with Carter - building that legacy of joy - moment by moment.