No Record To Keep: Learning to Love Well

There’s a strong sense of justice to my character that God and I wrestle over sometimes. For things to be fair and right and the same and equal are deep seated beliefs that are just part of who I am. 

It’s funny though. I can freely accept on a large, global scale that sin is a part of our world and inevitably has its effect on martyred Christians, corrupt governments, and aborted babies. I can accept that “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord (Romans 12:17-19)” on a global scale, that one day in His perfect righteousness and justice, God is going to make these things right. 

But on a personal level? When I struggle with a low emotional and relational return in my relationships, I start to pout and wonder why I can’t get back out of relationships what I choose to invest. Where’s my justice? Why don’t others treat me the way I treat them? Invest in me the way I invest in them? Text, call, share, invite, include?

Am I not entitled to certain privileges and trust in different relationships based on my past faithfulness and trustworthiness?

You see, I care deeply about all the relationships God puts in my life, so when I start to come unglued and off-centered from Christ’s perspective on people, on His definition of loving others, I become the very, ugly self-centered, unreasonable person I judge others to be. In my heart, I become the horrible friend I think they’re being. 

Thoughts run rampant….

I did this for them, why can’t they just do…..

I was there for them when (blank) happened, is it too much to expect the same in return?

I spent money and time to do (blank), and they won’t do….

She doesn’t talk to me the way she does so and so. 

He doesn’t include me in his life, the way he does that person. 

I know they’re on their phone all the time, I guess it’s just my texts they’re ignoring. 

Lord, help me! Even I’m disgusted at the selfishness dripping off the page above, but in my mind these ugly thoughts spin justified and dark and depressing, eating me and my joy alive. And Satan smirks in a corner delightfully tapping his fingertips together thinking, “Yes! Here she goes again! (Evil laugh)”

So how do you stop the cycle? Should some relationships in my life “owe” me? Am I justified to feel used or betrayed or frustrated that I care about someone more than they care about me? What is truth?

Truth is 1 Corinthians 13. Love keeps no record of wrongs. Love believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. If there is a relationship in my life where I have been called to love, and yet feel unloved, unseen, or forgotten, I have to take that to Jesus because I can’t make another person see this. 

Some people would say confront the other person. Real friends can speak truth in love and make it through to the other side. I’m not convinced this is true because at our core, we’re all sinful humans, prone to getting hurt easily and hurting others easily. I’m not saying be politically correct and walk on eggshells with those you love all the time, but I am saying go to Jesus first. 

I’m saying take that relationship to Him in prayer over and over and over again until He gives you both the opportunity and the words to speak. And not your words, but His. For me, I often end up having to ask for forgiveness for my own self-centeredness before He helps me let go of the hurt and the right to expect anything from anyone. 

Is that why I love them?  Because of how they should love me in return? Father, forgive me!!! If God loves all of us this way, we’d be eternally screwed. I fail to return His extravagant love for me every. day. He hasn’t stopped being my Friend, yet. 

So when I get in a funk, in the bad spiral, I go back to truth. The truth is I love others because Christ first loved me (1 John 4:19). It is my privilege to be a conduit of His love to the world around me. It is love that is freely given and covered by grace. Why should I not do the same for others? In a perfect world, my love would be perfectly returned, but I’m sinful and the people I love are sinful, and if there’s something we could all use more of, it’s grace.

Because at any given moment in time, I don’t know what kind of story the other person is living. 

I might be feeling forgotten, but they are feeling overwhelmed. 

I’m feeling unseen and unappreciated while they’re feeling like they’re drowning. 

I’m having a bad day while their life is falling apart. 

What we perceive to be true rarely is. Only God knows the truth and offers truth. Only through His eyes can we see what others can’t or won’t or don’t. So if I don’t submit every relationship to Him in prayer, every hard feeling, every unmet expectation, I’m probably missing something big. Something big in the other person’s life that I need Jesus to help me see. Maybe something hard I could step into with them instead of being something else hard for them to manage. 

And at the end of this life, it really won’t matter if other people treated me with this same grace because the truth is, I’m not living this life for them—at least not if I’m in the right frame of mind. The truth is I love Jesus, and Jesus loves me extravagantly above and beyond what I could ask for or think to deserve or even desire; therefore, in its purest form, loving others is quite literally just the overflow of God’s love flowing into me. 

So I have no record to keep because it wasn’t my love flowing out from me into others to begin with. 

And the truth of that statement sits with me now like an explosion just went off in my brain because I don’t think I ever realized or believed the depth of that truth until it got typed on a page. 

When it comes to loving others, God gets all the credit because He actually IS Love(1 John 4:7-8). I have no record to keep of the love I’ve given because I’ve only ever been a conduit for what was given to me first. Just a conduit, an aqueduct, an earthly vessel to carry God’s love from point A to point B. 

There is freedom in this, friends! Freedom to release others of all expectations. Freedom to let go of the need for reciprocation in any relationship. Freedom to release myself of keeping score, of wondering if I’m investing too much or too little in this relationship. So much freedom!

All I have to do is keep loving Jesus most and seeking Him first at all times in all ways. This alone is hard enough without trying to take the temperature of every other relationship in my life. It’s no wonder this earthen vessel of clay breaks so often. I get to be the carrier of the love, not the creator of it. 

No one owes me anything, but everyone owes Jesus everything. My prayer in this truth now becomes ever so passionately, “When others see me, Lord, may they only see You. Let me be okay being invisible if You are visible. Let the love I carry be untainted by my own fleshly desires. Create in me a clean heart, O God (Psalm 51:10). Clean my insides completely, so the love I carry is pure enough to reflect only back to You. I have nothing to offer but You, Jesus. Use me as You see fit.”

To My Son, Happy 10th Birthday

 Today my baby, my son, turns ten. A decade of parenting a son so different from my daughter. My baby boy, second and last child. My emotions are all over the page with this one. If Savannah has always been a source of joy, light, and life, Weston has always been heart, warmth, and love. 

He’s intelligent, articulate, observant, thoughtful and sensitive. He’s hilariously witty if you’re quiet long enough to listen, wicked smart and fiercely, strategically competitive. He’s the first to sense when I need a hug, and he’s keenly aware of the needs of others in any given situation. 

He has some deep flaws as well, but don’t we all. What I love the most is he seeks and recognizes truth even in the middle of things that are hard for him. He’s always been honest about what he’s feeling and where he is in any given moment, and when his thoughts and ideas run away with him, and the enemy is speaking lies into his head, he let’s God’s truth sink in and have Its way with him. For this alone, I am deeply grateful. 

I see the beginning of the man God is shaping him to be. I see a young boy that seeks truth and when he finds it, he doesn’t waver or back down. He stands firm. I see the beginnings of a young man who’s not afraid to work hard, apply himself, and take responsibility for the direction his life takes. I see a man of God forming in him that will carry himself with strength—strength of character and integrity, mental and physical strength, emotional and intellectual strength. 

The road to get there will be hard, my son, but I see everything in you, all the endless possibilities of how the Lord can and will use you to bring glory to Him. Never doubt that for one minute. Never sell yourself short of the amazingly, unique you God created just you to be. 

I’m proud of you simply because you’re my son, and it’s my greatest privilege to be entrusted with the gift of you for however long the Lord sees fit. 

Happy tenth birthday, Weston. Your Mama loves you more than you know. 

Will You Follow?

I have believed many lies in my brief 30+ years on earth.  Some of them were taught to me, but I'm learning more and more that most of them are simply part of me, part of how I think, part of being human.  The lie that got my attention today is being a Christian should be easy, or at least easier.

Now where this lie originated (the devil!) in my life, I'm not sure.  Maybe it's been all the years of "I can do all things through Christ," or "with Christ living through you anything is possible," or "just lean on the Lord, He will get you through."  Now, there is truth in all of those statements, but when you've been a professing Christian since you were four years old, and it hasn't gotten easier yet?  As a matter of fact, I'd say it's actually gotten harder to live the Christian walk?  How do you make sense of it?  What's the truth?  What do you tell your children?  Because Lord knows I never want to knowingly lie to them!  How do you honestly convince people in general that this straight and narrow path is really worth it?

My girl had a tough go of it at school for a few days, bringing home yellow faces instead of green on her behavior card.  As soon as she would get in the car, she would break down into tears and just cry, "It's just so hard to obey, mommy!"  And I'd have to sigh and rub her leg and agree.  Yes, it is very hard to obey.

It's actually easier to choose to do the wrong thing.  In that moment in time when the wrong choice beckons you to follow down the crowded, wide path where everyone appears to be having a party, it is EXTREMELY difficult to choose the narrow road no one seems to be choosing.  And isn't that what every decision, EVERY decision boils down to?  In a split second of time, when your flesh is tugging you in one direction and the Spirit in the other, it is very hard to obey.

Here's the catch though.  Every decision comes with consequences, some positive, some negative, but every decision is followed by consequences.  Some consequences are immediate, be they positive or negative.  Some consequences fester in the heart and mind and soul over time and are played out in months and years to come, but every person reading should be assured that EVERY decision has consequences.

So the real decision in that moment should be, what consequences do I want?  Do I want the added calories and fat from the chocolate bar in the aisle which will not benefit me toward my weight loss goal?  Or do I want to forgo those calories and focus on the fact that my body is slowly getting into shape and I need to do whatever little bit I can to help it out?  See, the question really isn't do I want the candy bar?

The question is do I want the consequences of choosing the candy bar?

And teaching this, teaching this kind of thinking to our children is more than difficult. We live in a microwaveable, instantly downloadable, always accessible society. Instant results and answers have become the norm. Thinking about anything for any length of time or heaven forbid, actually having to spend time in a library doing actual hard-copy research has become antiquated and somewhat extinct. You have a question? You google it. You want a discount? You google search for that or download an app. You want a very specific thing of any sort? Google search and buy anything you can describe online. Instant gratification all the time, any time, from anywhere.

It's no wonder our children grow up thinking they deserve it all. They kinda have it all at their finger tips. It's no wonder they shy away from working hard for anything. They aren't required to work harder than what their fingers can search for on the internet. Yet this is the time and place that God chose for them live, and as a parent, I have to accept and embrace this fact, seeking the Lord for how to best guide them through this life, their world, our world.

Everything in our lives is either orchestrated by God or allowed by God. Argue the semantics of this all you want, but this truth is hard to swallow. Children die every day, leaving behind grieving parents, yet God is still a good God. That is a hard truth to believe. God is sovereign over all governing authorities. That is a hard truth to accept.

When you start to strip down to the bare bones of who God is, we mere humans are left with hard truths, hard paths, hard choices. And still the question will beckon, 'Will you follow Me?'

Will you follow Jesus when His ways are not your ways, when His choices are not your choices, when His politics don't align with your politics, when His definitions of things don't match your beliefs? Will you follow Him through the green meadows of life AND the fiery furnaces that feel a whole lot like Hell? Will you follow Jesus when you can't Google or study to find a suitable answer to your greatest questions? Will you follow Him when it makes absolutely no sense to do so other than He's calling?

At the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of all the hard roads, the only question you really have to answer, every second of every day, is: Will you follow?

And sometimes, most times, by faith, you say yes to that question for no.good.reason. I find as I get older I don't always have the right answers for everything, most things actually. I find I don't want to explain all the decisions I choose to make. (I should be ready to defend my choices, but not feel the need to publicly announce and justify my choices. Ahem--Facebook.)

The truth is living out the Christian life is hard, most days, most of the time. And while it might not get easier, I will say the perks are sweeter, and nothing quite compares to falling asleep every night knowing you are fully loved, fully accepted, and fully forgiven to live another day.

So to all the Timothy's in my life, the ones younger who for some reason think I might have an inkling of wisdom, I will truthfully tell you this: Choosing to follow Christ in a trusting relationship between you and Him is the hardest mission you will ever choose to accept. Which means it will also be the one with the greatest rewards when it's all said and done. And real Christians believe that truth and live that truth by faith alone, and there's really no amount of explaining that can make it make sense to a critical world. Only the Holy Spirit can do that.

So the question remains, will you follow? In good times and bad, for better or worse? Do you believe you are cherished enough by Jesus to trust Him no matter what? Because sometimes it IS just hard. Good thing the Man I choose to follow is the Creator and Sovereign Lord of the Universe. Talk to anyone. Life is hard regardless of who or what you choose to follow. Wouldn't you rather follow the Man who designed it all from the beginning of time anyway? I'm pretty sure He's the only one that knows the right path to take, even if it doesn't always make sense to me or the people around me.

This Man

For 18 years today, he has committed himself to me and held up his end of the bargain to cherish me in sickness and in health, for better or worse, and it will most definitely be death that parts us and nothing else.

He is the stabilizer to my roller coaster. The laughter and final word in our family. He leads with humility and provides a multitude of character qualities by his example.

When God put the two of us together, when God chose him for me, God answered so many prayers I had prayed and had yet to pray. 

This man has been a conduit of Jesus in my life for feeling held, being seen, and being known.

This man has been the means through which God has fulfilled and continues to fulfill more than one childhood dream.

This man's goal in life, one of many but this one is near the top of the list, is to have a successful, thriving marriage. When this is your goal, you better believe I reap the benefits of his goal every day in ten million different ways.

He has hopped on red-eye flights to leave later and get home sooner for love of me and his family.

He has endured jumping through more travel hoops than I can name for the sake of getting home and being with us.

He plans almost-weekly date nights and has never stopped dating me, pursuing me, and trying to convince me I am the best thing since sliced bread in 18 years.

This man oggles over my beauty even though I only wear make-up and something other than yoga pants maybe five days out of the year.

He sees my heart, and he fights for me in prayer, in words of encouragement, and more recently in how he's grown three sizes in his ability and desire to empathize.

He's the only one that knows how to make my tea. Even I don't know.

He's the only one I've ever given my heart to, other than Jesus, that hasn't disappointed. (Well, when he has, he is always the first to apologize and make things right--I'm still learning this art from him.)

He's taught me how to be a better communicator and how to enjoy the ordinary and the extraordinary equally. He takes life as it comes and faces every challenge directly and with a steadfastness that is admirable.

He let's me see his soft side, and he's honest with our children about life and how it works.

Every day I wake up I love him more, and he still finds ways to impress me to love him more as well...not that he has to, but yet he still does. There's no doubt in my mind that our relationship is his top priority, which makes me one lucky girl, and the older I get and the more husband's I meet and wives I talk to, the more grateful I am for him and his commitment to our marriage and to our family and to the Lord.

Happy Anniversary, my Love. This girl still only has eyes for you, and you have my whole heart for my whole life. Promise.

There's A Tattoo On My Back

I know I write about grief a lot. After my last post, my husband gently questioned, "Is that really where you are all the time?" The truth is yes and no. Grief is funny that way. In this season of my life, it is also where the Lord continually shows up, proving Himself to me over and over again. 

But the truth lies in His presence being with me in the highs and the lows, a constant presence in the ordinary and the mundane as well.

The truth is I have experienced so much joy and beauty in the midst of my grief that it seems incongruent to be able to write about both. So, I put a tattoo on my back.

This piece of art was five years in the making. Veale's death had left me marked in such a way, it didn't seem honest to let that truth be only tattooed on my heart. But it took five years of prayer, Pinterest searching, Bible reading, and God bringing the right tattoo artist at the right place and time across my path to get it done.

You see, this is my daily reminder that joy and beauty are found all around me--in the midst of the pain and the hard and the sad, there is thrill, life abundant, adventure, and newness to be born and discovered every morning, around every corner. The common thread binding these two polar realities together? IN HIS PRESENCE.

In Jesus' presence, I experience peace, hope, comfort, joy, and a renewed love for His purpose for my life. This promise in psalms has been my anchor through the waves of grief and my reason for rejoicing at my highest highs......

Psalm 16:11 "You make known to me the path of life; 

                                       you will fill me with joy in your presence,

                                                                                                                            with eternal pleasures at your right hand." (NIV)

Savannah Veale had tattooed Job 33:4 across her rib cage as a reminder that regardless of her asthma and allergies and all the suffering they brought to her life, it was God who gave her the breath of life. It was for His glory and His purposes that she lived each day to the fullest. She was the literal, walking embodiment of joy in the midst of pain. Her tattoo was her reminder to herself that her life was not her own.....

Job 33:4 "The Spirit of God has made me;
                                                                                               the breath of the Almighty gives me life." (NIV)

And where have I found God's presence? Where have I not is a better question! My entire life I have seen Him in the artistry of His creation--every cell, every atom of matter, creature, weather movement, sunset, sunrise, mountain crag, ocean swell--in all of it, I see Jesus. I feel and experience His presence. I see God's brush strokes, His attention to detail, how the fires burn and life greens anew from the ashes, how the clouds roll in yet make for the most beautiful sunsets, how the climb is steep and jagged yet the view from the top is breathtaking. If you ever wonder why I love to travel, it's because I love to see the extent and glory of my Jesus in the world He created out of love for you and me. I can't get enough....

Psalm 19:1 "The heavens declare the glory of God,
                                                                                   and the sky above proclaims his handiwork." (ESV)

If you want to have your own personal worship experience with the Lord, find your favorite place to sit in His creation and meditate on the entirety of Psalm 19. See if He doesn't reveal Himself to you in a new way, a personal way.

And the last verse on the compass of my tattoo, well, this one was a personal call for me. I chose it because it's the verse in the Bible that comes to mind when you think of joy. The joy of the Lord is your strength, right? But when I went to look at the verse in its entirety, to make sure I wanted the context tattooed on me forever, this is what I found....

Nehemiah 8:10 "Nehemiah said, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for                              the joy of the Lord is your strength.”(NIV)

Now, the context of the story in Nehemiah was God's children grieving as the Word of God was being read. Whether because of the realization of just how much of the law they had broken, were unable to keep, or from an overwhelming sense of unworthiness, I'm not sure, but the text is clear that they were grieved and weeping when they heard the words of the law. (Nehemiah 8:9b) But grief is grief. Why you grieve doesn't diminish the emotion or weight of grief. 

What I read here, what I heard God say to me in this verse was, "Jennifer, Go! Live your life. Enjoy what I have given you--food, health, friendships, children, marriage, ministry--Enjoy them! Share these with those around you, the ones who aren't experiencing these things, the ones who don't have Me to enjoy. Jennifer, stop grieving, for your strength to move forward, to live life, to enjoy life is found in Me. I AM the joy you so desperately seek and want to be consumed by."

And in the fullness of this verse, of which we so often only quote the last line, the Lord gave me permission, a commission even, to stop grieving and enjoy Him and share Him and give Him all the glory and all the credit for any strength or joy anyone may think I have.

And so as an obedient child, I do my best to enjoy Him and all He has given. Every chance I get. I endeavor to laugh as hard as I cry, to smile as often as I may have cause for concern, to celebrate as much as I mourn, and to be grateful even in the midst of loss. 

The beauty is one emotion does not matter more or outweigh the other. One emotion does not cancel out or diminish the importance or reality of the other. In Jesus' presence I am free to experience both fully, without fear or condemnation for He is Lord of it all.

Which is why in His presence is exactly where I aim to live my life because there is where I find everything I ever need.

You're Not Alone

Can I be honest?

I don't know how people grieve without Jesus in their lives. I don't know how they process all the questions, how they find hope for something new, how they vent, grow stronger, move forward.

Because I was reminded the other day, that every grief is deeply personal. As much as people tell you you are not alone, no one else had the relationship with the one you lost that you had. 

My therapist asked me to tell her about my relationship with Savannah Veale the other day. I didn't want to do it. It was so deeply personal to me--all the memories I have, conversations shared, life experiences digested, laughter, suffering, tears, stories, adventures. All the things about her life that Savannah shared with me are unique to only her and me. Even shared events with others, like family vacations, even though my family was there with us, sharing those memories with her and with me, we will all remember different pieces of time, different moments, different conversations from the same experiences. Not my husband nor my children had the same relationship with her that I did, not because any of us loved her more or less but because every single relationship between two people is unique to those two people.

Therefore, when you grieve your loss, you ultimately grieve it alone because the only other person you shared that same relationship with is gone. It is this reality, the loneliness of grief, that can be so hard to understand and so impossible for those watching to step into.

But for God. Except for Jesus. He knew....knows her! He knows me. He knew....knows the meaningfulness of our relationship, the depth, the importance.

And He has never left my side. He has taken the brunt of my anger and tongue lashings. He has stood with me, never flinching, and let me beat on His chest and sob and ask why over and over and over again until I can't ask why anymore.

Not once has His presence left me. He rubs my back and rocks and holds me when I cry, catching all the tears in His bottles, never letting one go unseen. Even in my hardness of heart, when I turn to hide from hope, when I want to numb out of life and not feel anymore, even in those pits, He stays with me. He crawls inside and whispers He is there. I am not alone. He sees me. He sees my pain, and He knows why I hurt. so. much.

Only He heard all the prayers I prayed over Savannah's health and safety for years. Only He had sat in that room with  just the two of us every week for a year, trying to find joy in her circumstances. Only He saw me stand alone in the hallway at the hospital, not family, not friend, but somewhere in no man's land. Only He saw me break down, utterly and completely, mourn and weep outside the hospital, alone. He saw me gasp for breath through the tears. He saw my body shake and heave in the overwhelming tidal wave of her death. Only He knows how often I relive that day and that experience and my relationship with her over and over again in my mind.

And while I can share these things now, I can reveal details of my love and my pain to try and help you understand, to help me process, the truth is, no one actually ever will understand except my Jesus. Because He saw us both, and He saw it all.

Yes, He has been the one I've blamed the most. He has been the one I've wrestled for answers, but He has also been the One who is faithful to show up and be present and Who knows how I personally struggle with all of it. No matter how angry I have become at Him for taking her, He is ultimately the only one who knew why it hurt me so much to lose her. So in the end, when I need to talk to someone who knew her and knew me and knew our relationship, I end up talking to Him.

People, friends, can step into this arena of pain and understanding only from the perspective of a loving, sideline fan. The ones who have stepped into the pain with me, have tried to wade in the waters with me, they are life preservers that I appreciate and cling to and need, but Jesus is the breath that keeps me breathing. He is solid ground when grief quakes. 

Because He knows us both. He knows it all. Intimately. He was there when we said all the things and did all the things and made all the memories. He was there too.

So for those that grieve without Jesus, I pray for you. If you know someone who's grieving without Jesus in their life, go BE Jesus to them because they won't make it without Him. I'm convinced of this. People who are grieving feel deeply, personally alone in their grief at any given moment for reasons I've tried to explain above. 

Another person will never be able to meet anyone in their grief completely, and as a minister of compassion, I've learned to accept this hard truth. But Jesus! Jesus can meet them right where they are and understand every hard feeling, rough edge, and deep wound because He knows it all! Take your grieving person to Jesus in whatever way that looks like. Grab the corners of their mat, cut a hole in the ceiling, and lower them down right in front of Him. (Luke 5:17-39) This looks like a lot of prayer, a lot of silent sitting, encouraging notes, long hugs, smiles with lots of eye contact. This looks like any number of small things and big things. Make them laugh, let them cry, send that text, plan that coffee.

Jesus knows how to reach the hurting because He knows their hurts intimately, and He uses His children to be His hands and feet to a hurting world (Matthew 25:40-45), and we don't have to understand or have a personal stake in their loss to be a conduit for His love. 

If this journey of grief has taught me anything, it's taught me that I don't have to understand or relate to anything about someone's situation to bring Jesus to them in the middle of it. And Jesus rarely looks like the right words. Jesus is a presence in the dark. He simply let's you know you're not alone. That's a message I can whisper in the dark to someone too.

You're not alone. 

Who in your life needs to hear those words today? How can you whisper it today? Stop wanting someone to whisper it to you, and go whisper it to someone else because Jesus is always whispering it to your heart, all the time, if you'll stop long enough to listen.

Airing the Box Just a Little

A few weeks after we laid her precious self in the ground, our family received the news we'd be making the move to California in a year.

Fourteen months after that, we loaded our family of four onto a plane, and we didn't look back. That was almost six years ago.

This past weekend, I was visiting back east with a sweet, sweet friend from another lifetime ago. She asked me if I still blogged. I hesitated, and answered honestly, "Well, I kinda feel like I've lost my voice for a season, but I do every now and then."

Innocently, she replied, "Oh. Was it Savannah that made you lose your voice?"

I was instantly confused. "No. My Savannah is fine, I think....oh wait....you mean......Savannah Veale." And instantly my eyes welled with tears as the realization of what she was asking doused me like a bucket of ice-cold water. It had been almost six years since someone had spoken her name to me.

My friend was kind. Immediately she apologized, hugging my neck, as we awkwardly tried to change the subject, but I was done. It was all I could do from that moment to keep the tears inside my eyelids.

You see, when I moved to California, no one knew me here. No one knew my story. No one knew Savannah Veale. Her name was not mentioned or brought up in conversation. There were no knowing eyes and kind smiles. I only had to share pieces of that story with the ones closest to me who happened to ask at the right time on the right days, and even then, they didn't know. I don't let them see how much I still grieve.

But I miss her. I still do. I hadn't realized that somewhere along the way in the past six years, I had processed enough to put her in a box on the decorative shelf of my life. Anyone looking close enough would see it is a lovely box that is cherished because it's there, not hidden, but it's also not a focal point or a conversation piece. It obviously has great sentimental value, but it's not something anyone would recognize or care to ask about.

Yet she is right there on the shelf of my life, and when her box gets opened whether on purpose or by surprise, the pain and joy that flow from her memory are deeply overwhelming.

When my friend said her name, one part of me wanted to stay and keep talking, comforted by conversation of her with someone who knew her, yet there was an equal part of me that wanted to run away and avoid the inevitable tears and pain that would follow with the joy of remembering her.

And so it is with those who grieve. I'm not sure keeping Savannah Veale in an emotional box in my life is healthy, but I also will never throw it out. I'm not sure airing it is healthy all the time either. I'm not sure anything about grief makes any sense. Some friends I know post the state of their grieving mind every day on Facebook. You never have to wonder how they're feeling. Others never share anything. at all. ever. It's like that part of their lives died with the loved one that is gone. And then there are all of us somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wondering if anyone knows, and if anyone really even cares.

So since I'm having a hard time putting her back in that box that got opened by surprise, this is me, airing it out a little. I miss her. I miss her long lanky arms and the hugs she would give, her mischievous smile and the way she always made you feel like she was up to something. I miss the Miss Savannah bag of candy that use to sit on top of our refrigerator, only to be given out by her when she came to babysit. I miss her popping into my home unexpectedly and making all of us smile, or when she'd come looking for advice in a very sideways don't-tell-me-what-to-do-but-I'm-asking-anyway kind of way. I miss her voice. I miss her.

I replay the day she died and our last conversation on the phone in my mind more times than anyone would ever know. The verse God gave me after she died is still the one I repeat like counting sheep on sleepless nights: Isaiah 26:3 "You will keep in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You because they trust in You."

Which always brings me right back to my Jesus. Because He has kept that promise time and time and time again. My mind finds perfect peace when it focuses on Him and trusts His ways, trusts Him--completely, fully, and unquestioningly.

I will never know why she had to die. I will never understand.  But Jesus does. My Heavenly Father, HER Heavenly Father knows and understands, and the acceptance that this is enough--that God knowing and me NOT knowing is enough--this truth begins to settle her back into the box, and His promised peace helps close the lid once again as I choose to trust His heart for me and for her.

I hope one day that box becomes a conversation piece in my life because her story is now forever woven into mine, and while time does not heal all wounds it does allow for the acceptance to grow of those wounds, and with acceptance of the co-mingling of the joy and the pain comes a freedom to share it, remember it, pick it up and show it to others without fear or shame or guilt.

This box on my shelf is a testimony to the peace of God that passes all understanding. It is the catalyst to an empathy for others and their pain that I could never have manufactured on my own. It is a gift I never wanted, but will not waste or hide. My prayer is one day I won't have to keep the lid on that box shut so tight, that my emotions surrounding her will be able to ebb and flow more freely, safely, slowly, like the tinkling music of a gentle stream, not quite so violently like a rogue wave, pulling me back under and spinning me in the washing machine of grief. One day. Maybe.

Maybe if time doesn't heal all wounds, maybe it does slow the roller coaster of grief. I don't know. We will see. Time will tell.

In the meantime, open your eyes. Those who grieve are all around you. Be gentle with yourself and with others, friends. There are so many stories people just don't tell. Grateful my Jesus likes to hear them all, and when I don't want to tell them, he already knows my heart. Here's praying someone notices the sentimental boxes you keep on the shelf of your life and has the wisdom to gently ask to hear your story because telling it, airing that box just a little, really is a comfort and an agent to healing and freedom.