A Different World

A new year has begun. The majority of people have already given up on their New Year’s resolutions; or else they keep reassuring themselves they will start “tomorrow.” Seventeen days in and we lose hope of toning up, eating right, reading the Bible everyday, etc. We aren’t as ambitious as we thought, are we?

But for me, the New Year has different meaning. You see, I am more concerned with what quickly follows that New Year.

What I have found over the years is that months have meaning. There is special meaning, such as birthdays, there are holidays, seasons, special foods, special traditions, etc. Spring accompanies April; seniors and soon-to-be graduates prepare for a new chapter in life during May; June, July, and August are those glorious summer months—which kids love, because it means “freedom” for them. Plus, summer is the prime time for family reunions. And of course, in July, we celebrate the anniversary of our American freedom. September generally marks the beginning of college. October: Halloween, fall, candy, and costumes. November is the end of fall, the beginning of winter, Thanksgiving and all that entails (i.e. turkey, mashed potatoes, all that tasty and fatty food, tryptofan, family, Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, Black Friday, Christmas trees, and football). December is a huge one; We all know what December means: everything Christmas, family, hot chocolate, warm fires, children hoping for what they’ve wanted all year from Santa, parents completing last-minute shopping and maxing out their credit cards because they think material things will satisfy the heart and soul, snowmen, vacation, loneliness, Christmas music, the celebration of the birth of our Savior, and whatever other traditions you and your family may hold. January of course welcomes in the New Year; February is the month of love, either adding to the cynicism of broken, bitter, resentful, and lonely hearts or creating a sweet occasion for you and your significant other. And finally, March. You may wonder why I didn’t start with January and end with December. Or you may not wonder—you may know exactly why. I ended with March, because it is the most dominant month of the year in my world.

What’s so special about March? Not much. Maybe the beginning of spring, the Ides of March (but I only ever learned of that when I read “Romeo and Juliet” in high school). One bonus in March for me is the birthday of some of my very special friends. But other than that, I dread the month.

I dread it, because when March rolls around, I have to face the music. I have to face the fact that I have lived one more whole year without one of the most incredible men I ever knew and loved. I am forced to remember that however many years ago (in this case, three), I learned on the fifteenth (which happens to be the Ides of March that I mentioned earlier), at 9:50PM, while waiting for my daddy to come home, he would never again come home to our family’s house in our small town in Indiana. Never again would I see him walk into the mudroom with a big smile on his face, ever so joyful to be home with his family.
In March, there is no getting around the recognition that he is gone. No matter how far I have come, and no matter how much progress I have made, my emotions and feelings and logic are twisted into a mangled mess of devastation and pain.

But it’s not even the remembering that specific day that he died that hurts the most. And I’ve decided to tell you what it is.

I was talking to a dear friend of mine recently, and she has experienced the same loss as I have, so we connect well. She, however, has been without her father for longer than I, and though it’s the same pain, she has more wisdom than I do. So, while talking to her, I mentioned that what I hate about it being another year since my dad passed away to that wretched heart disease, is that it reminds me that I have lived one more year of my life without him. This is a little bit hard to explain, and I was having trouble voicing my thoughts to her. But she knew what I meant. And she put it into more coherent language for me.

The problem is that it is like I am living in a different time period. There was the time when I had two parents, when there were five people in my immediate family. Now, I live in a time when I have one parent. Everything is different. What is incredibly painful for me is that my father will never share this part of life with me here on earth. I never saw that coming. He was fine one day and gone the next.

And since the day he’s been gone, I have met countless new people; I have grown in countless new friendships with people. My dad would love all of my new friends. The majority of new people I have met are my friends at camp (BSE ’09) and my friends from Moody and Chicago. I would give so much to have my dad meet these special new people in my life.

This is what I mean about living in a different lifetime. In this time of my life, every single new person I meet will see my family as having four members (aside from my brother’s fiancée). No one I met starting three years ago or will meet in the future will EVER know one of the most important people in my life. They will never fully grasp who he was to me. Granted, many of the people I meet will never even meet my family at all, but many will—especially those I am closest to. The idea of them not knowing him is almost inconceivable (does that word make anyone else think the “Princess Bride” every time they hear it?) to me.

But, inevitably, here I am. Almost three years from the day I lost him. And what do I do? I could go on to describe the pain. I could go on to describe how exactly my life is changed. I could proceed to talk about the things I miss about him. But this post is long enough, and I have written extensively about all of those things already on this blog and in my journals. And besides, there comes a point, when sharing things online becomes impersonal. Our lives are special and personal. They deserve to be explored and shared through more than just the Internet. So I am always willing to talk more, but this is enough of my thoughts.

So, what I want to conclude with—before all of you who want to criticize me for not being joyful in all the good that has come from this experience, and all the wonderful ways God has worked in my life—is the acknowledgment of the fact that I am healing.

As much as one part of me hates to say it, life goes on. Obviously it does, because it’s been three years. The earth keeps spinning and spinning. I hate the term “moving on” because it seems to imply to some that my dad is less important to me, and his death isn’t as major as it once was. So, I don’t want to say that I’m moving on, but I do know that as time goes on, the pain will lessen. It will take a long time. But I heard a quote last night that I think sums it up. I’m not sure who said it, so if you said it, let me know, and I’ll give you credit.

“Acceptance is not about forgetting, it’s remembering with less pain.”

Just because I accept that he’s gone, and on March 15th 2010, he will have been gone for three years, doesn’t mean that I’m leaving him behind. I’m just able to remember him with a little less of a sting. I will always wish he was here, and I will always talk about him. I will never let anyone forget him, and my heart will always ache a little bit. But the pain will become less—eventually. Maybe not now, but it will come.
And in thirty years, when I tell someone that I lost my dad thirty-three years ago, I know they will shrug it off more easily than they would have now. Honestly, that will probably bother me. I will want to shout at them, and tell them that I still love him as much as I did the day he died. I will want to pound it into their head that he is as much a part of who I am as he was when he was living. But I won’t do that. I’ll let them think what they want, and I will simply remember, with less pain.

Now, I will actually conclude with telling you that I love the Lord, and I am forever grateful for the time he gave me with my dad. He never promised me I would have more than seventeen years with him, and I recognize that. So before you think you need to tell me that God will bring good from this, and I need to stop grieving my loss. Let me assure you that I have already seen God’s goodness in my father’s death. Just because it’s painful, doesn’t mean I’m living in misery and self-pity. I have already witnessed God’s sustaining Love and Power in my life and the lives of those around me, and I know I will continue to witness God working. I haven’t walked away from God, and I never will. I know I could not survive this without him. I’m striving to use the experiences He has put me through in order to bring serve Christ and glorify God.

Seventeen days into the New Year, means approximately 307 days closer to the third year anniversary I lost my father. But it also means it’s 307 days closer to the third year anniversary that he went home to live with our Heavenly father who never has and never will stop loving me and you. March might be extra painful, but it will also be a reminder of how God has blessed me through the roughest of times in my life. A lot has happened in three years, and a lot will happen in the years to come.

God, let me always glorify you no matter what you allow to happen in my life. No matter what your sovereign plan involves, no matter the pain, and no matter the joy, may you always receive the honor and the glory.

And Daddy, I miss you. I always will. The day you died is a day my heart broke in a way that will always cause it to ache. But you brought incredible joy to my life. You were a gift from God. You made sure to always acknowledge that you were my earthly father, and you told me, I need only to rely on God—because he is the only Constant, and the only One who will never let me down—because if I do that, “everything else will shake out fine.” Thank you, Dad. I love you.

Inevitable

It is always a difficult thing to watch the ones you love grow old, weak, and dependent on walking aids and what not. As a kid I didn’t think about the fact that as I grow, everyone else is growing as well.

My grandpa Magers died when I was young; I remember him, but I never had a relationship with him, as he died before I could really get to know him. But as I grew up, I became very close with all my other grandparents. My mom’s parents were divorced when she was in middle school so I’ve always had two sets of grandparents on her side, because they both remarried.

Recently, my grandpa Leichty—my mom’s step dad—died. Grandpa and I were close with each other. He loved to talk, and I loved to listen to him. He wrote me a letter when I was in eighth grade that I couldn’t read until I graduated, and it is one of the best letters ever written to me. He was always full of wisdom and knowledge. I remember, when I was younger, playing with my Grandpa; he was lively, active, and strong. My brothers and I always had fun with him. But inevitably, he aged and grew weaker. He had a stroke or two, and was left very weak and dependent on others.
His wife, my grandma Leichty—my mom’s mom—has endured much in her life. She is a strong-willed woman, and she supports others. She doesn’t slow down, and she really cares about others. She is such a servant.

I also remember my grandma Magers being very spry and independent. But I have witnessed her being forced to sell her house and living in an assisted living home. She can’t even write her own letters anymore. She does have a very good memory and can still have coherent conversations. Visiting her is one of my favorite things. But it’s been hard, watching her get old. Seeing her cry at my dad’s viewing and funeral was one of the most painful things I have ever seen. She lost her baby, and you could see the anguish in her eyes.

My grandma Martin—my mom’s step mom—has always been a wonderful woman in my life. She cares so much about her grandchildren. She always checks up on me. She has always been one of the strongest women I know. Over the past few years, as I have grown closer to her, I have realized what a wise woman she is. She has endured quite a lot of difficult circumstances in her life—things I won’t get into now—yet she still has faith, and she still serves others.

Grandpa Martin—my mom’s dad—has also always been very strong, but recently he was hospitalized for a heart condition. He is out now and doing much better, but it is still scary.

Now, the other day, I was at my grandma and grandpa Martin’s house and my grandma began talking about my cousin who was recently hospitalized at Riley’s for a heart condition. She was describing what happened when they visited him at Riley’s. While they were in there, my cousin began slurring his words and having other complications. As my grandma described the situation, she started to cry.

It was heartbreaking to me. As a kid, you just think they are invincible. But I am facing reality now, and I’m not saying I’m going to lose any of them soon. It has just been hard to see the way they change. They can’t do as much as they used to, they are more open with you, you find out things you never knew. It’s difficult for me to handle. I want them to never be hurt. I want them to stay young forever. I want them to be exempt from the effects of ageing. But they aren’t, and no one is.

Nothing I can do will keep them here with me longer; their lives are not in my hands. Therefore, the best I can do is just cherish the time I have with them. I can be grateful for the time I have with them, and I can remember their precious, valuable words to me. Thank the Lord they are even in my life at all. Each one of them has played a very important role.

Sara Dawn Mundy [a blessing]

Last year, the summer before my freshman year here at Moody, I was praying frantically that Sara (my roommate) would get into Moody for that semester. Two days or so before orientation began, the chances seemed slim. However, Moody admissions finally realized what an honor it would be to have Sara attend the Institute. So, that was awesome that she got in, but we wanted to be roommates, and it didn’t look like that would happen. Fortunately, though, her volleyball coach convinced Student Residence Life that it was absolutely necessary for Sara and I to room together. Cha-ching. Everything worked out!

Now at this point, Sara and I knew each other fairly well. We had been friends for a while, since we grew up in the same (small) town, same church, and one of my best friends is her cousin, but we had just begun growing closer over the past year and a half or so. Thus, I was very excited to get to know her more on the level of college roommates!

Boy, was I in for a treat. Let me tell you a little bit about Sara Dawn Mundy. She is incredible. My friendship with her is a blessing for which I am forever grateful. Sara is constantly encouraging to me. As I watch the way she lives her life, I see how much she cares about others. She has a compassionate heart and is very passionate about what she wants to do with her life. Sara is wise, though she may not believe it. When I ask her for advice or her opinion on things, ranging from fashion to theology, I feel confident with her responses. I know she speaks honestly, and I know she takes me seriously. Now, Sara has endured some extremely difficult and painful things while here at Moody, and I hate to see her hurt. But it’s a privilege to be able to walk through life with her, to be able to pray with her and for her, and just to take part in her life. This girl has a heart for the Lord, and she takes on trials and obstacles with great faith. She keeps her eyes on her True Love, and she rests in His love and comfort. I am incredibly excited to see where God takes her in this life.

On a different note, Sara is one of the FUNNIEST people I know. I am going to live ten years longer just because of how much she makes me laugh. I mean, she doesn’t even have to try. She is hysterical, and hearing her laugh brings joy to my heart. Oh, and she makes delicious food!

Another thing I love about Sara is that she accepts me for who I am. I can be myself around her; I can tell her anything that is on my mind without fear of being condemned or judged. I know she loves me, and she has proved that to me countless times. She serves me in many ways, and I definitely don’t deserve it. She puts up with my overreactions and my obnoxiousness (That’s actually a word!). She gives me wonderful, warm, loving hugs. She really is a gift from God.

I told her last year, “I love that no matter how my day went, I can always come back to the room knowing you’ll be there.” And it’s true; it’s always comforting to know I can come back to such a wonderful friend and sister in Christ. I love serving alongside her and growing with her.

Sara is beautiful internally and externally. She will go far in this world, because her ultimate desire is to serve her Maker. She knows what she’s been given, and she wants to give back to Him as much as she can. It’s an honor to be her friend, roommate, and sister. ☺ She is absolutely great. I really love this girl—from the depths of my heart.

Unrecognized Sin

This is a story about a girl who thought she was doing pretty well. She was content with where God had her, and she wasn’t dealing with too much. She was preparing for her future at a nice little Bible college. It was a new year full of new friendships, new classes, new professors, new passions, new ideas, etc… Everything was new. Life was exciting.

But then, through a series of events, she realized something about herself. She was selfish, jealous, dirty, sinful, and not at all put together. The only reason she thought she wasn’t dealing with much was because she wasn’t allowing herself to see her sin. She couldn’t see the blackness in her heart. She couldn’t see her pride or her brokenness.

So, instead of continuing to live in ignorance, she knew something had to be done. Her solution: pray that God would continue to open her eyes to the ugly, filthy sin in her life. She prayed that God would help her purge her heart, mind, body, and soul of all the worldliness she allowed to infiltrate and didn’t even realize.

The incredible thing was, as she prayed, she saw herself begin to clean up. She could see her soul being sanctified, dusted off, and cleansed. But the unfortunate thing is that the process hurt. It was painful to see her sinful nature despite all the blessings and goodness God granted her. How could she hurt her Maker like that? How could she treat him like that? How could she treat others like that? It hurt to see just how depraved she was.

This process brought the girl to her knees; it completely and utterly broke her. With nowhere else to run but to the arms of her Creator, she fell before him while he looked on with love. His cleansing, bittersweet breath rushed all around her, surrounding her with warmth, protection, assurance, hope, and love. She was being purified—washed, rinsed, and rung out. And it hurt; in fact, it was incredibly painful, but in the end, she knew the pain took her right where she needed to be. It led her back to her first and True love.

I’m sure you figured out fairly quickly that this girl happens to be me. This is the story of what I am dealing with right now. Why share it? Because this is how I process. I write, and I share. And as of now, God is still revealing my unrecognized (by me) sin, but it’s good. I can the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel.” God is refining my faith. Being brought to my knees, with an ache in my soul, and tears streaming down my face, is not a bad thing. It’s where I find God.

One Moment

This doesn't rhyme, and it isn't all grammatically correct. I don't really know what you would classify this as, but I was journaling and it just kind of spilled onto the page. It's a little bit harder to share, since I don't usually share entries like this. But go ahead and have a look.

In one solitary moment, your whole world was rocked,
In one moment, your life was forever altered,
You weren’t quite sure what that meant yet,
But you knew, with your whole being—it was changed.

One of the loves of your life was lost,
You held as tight as you could,
But that solid grip was loosened by an inevitable event called death.
You frantically grasped for any life that was left,
But try as you might, the beloved life was gone.

You kept reaching and reaching,
But to no avail.
The realization came then,
A life-sucking blow,
You gasped for breath.

How could you go on living?
How could this be real?
How could this happen to you?
Tears were shed. Hands were held.

Everything you held dear in that clenched fist slipped right on through your fingers.
And even though his last words served to be extreme comfort in a dark time,
Your heart ached—for you, for your family, for your friends.
And it still aches. The pain is cutting, burning, to your very core,
Because in one single, dreadful moment, it all changed.
Everything. Changed.

But, my dearest friend, I have no doubt about this:
One day, even if you knew it all along,
You will realize the hope that is sitting right next to you.
Everything you have been longing for will fill your heart.

In one single moment, love will overwhelm you.
When you are at your rope’s end,
And you feel that you have called on your Savior
Too many times and He hasn’t come to the rescue.
It seems He has deserted you,
It is at this point, this single moment,
You will find yourself overwhelmed by His sweet, pure, unconditional, and unfailing love.

You will embrace it,
Laugh in it,
And weep over it.
Because it is all the comfort you have ever needed.

And this may happen numerous times, because we lose sight of what is important.
We lose sight of everything we need.
But when you are almost to the bottom of the pit,
And you are only longing for His love,
You will see him, and you will see that he's been there all along.

He will never desert you, though it feels like it at times,
In those times—it is really you who has deserted Him.
So though, that one single moment was something terribly awful,
And it brought you to your knees in desperation and despair,
You will encounter another single moment, in which your world will be rocked,
Again your knees will hit the ground, but this time,
You will be filled. Filled with love and hope and beauty.

How could there ever be beauty from this misery?
You will know, one day. You will know.
In one single, solitary, moment, you will know.
Love will rescue you, in one second.
That’s what it all comes down to,

Because there is love in every corner of our lives,
And it is shockingly obvious in those defining moments,
When you are vulnerable and honest,
That is when it all changes.

And that, my love, is when you will know,
What you have really known all along.
That is when it becomes reality.
In that one moment.
Hope. Love. Beauty.

Good

It’s a late night tonight. Actually it’s not that late, but I have an early morning class. I will regret staying up to write, when my alarm vibrates in my ears around six-forty five. But inspiration doesn’t happen every night.

Anyway, last Saturday, I woke up around nine. I had the room to myself, because my lovely roommate went home for the weekend. So, I took advantage of the solitude and pulled out that Bible that had become my textbook. I opened it to find wisdom, understanding, discernment, and love—not answers for an exam.

And as I finished up, an hour or so later, my heart was light. No, everything in my life was not fixed. No, everything I wept over was not “better.” But I did regain sight of what is most important. I did remember that God won’t give me anything I can’t handle; so whether or not that means I’ll be praying for the same problems to be fixed for the next thirty years, or the next three years, it will not kill me. God will not leave me; He is still listening.

I even prayed for some very specific things—things that I didn’t expect him to answer, necessarily. And I don’t know why I sometimes pray with that mindset. Why should I not expect God to answer my prayers? Sometimes I just forget that God only wants us to ask for things, and he will gladly give them to us. So I prayed for a few things—a job being one of them.

What do you know? That night I received a call from a lady about a part-time nanny job. I just laughed after I hung up the phone, and I thanked my good Lord. I had also prayed for something else that was answered tonight. And again, I am chuckling. It’s just ridiculous that I forget about God’s goodness.

I read a book called Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis for research writing last year, and it is one of the best fiction novels I have ever read. In the book, Psyche’s (Cupid and Psyche) ugly sister, Orual, does not believe the gods are good. She believes they are “out to get her.” If something good does happen to her, it is only because they are playing games with her; the moment she accepts the goodness, they will crush her happiness—they will strip her of any sort of joy she received from that which was “good.”

Unfortunately, sometimes I think this is how I feel. I feel as though good things will only happen so that something tragic can crush my soul, and God can test my faith.
And I know this stems from a couple rough years in a row. I’ve had to work through always anticipating receiving tragic phone calls and what not. I felt for so long that as soon as my heart began healing, it would suffer a life-sucking blow, and I would end up on my knees again—pleading for peace.

My view is that God tests me, then I grow in my relationship with him a little bit, but as soon as I’m strong again, he has to test me again. I don’t deserve goodness, so he won’t give it to me.

But that’s not true. I am his daughter, and he loves me in way I can never comprehend. He wants me to share in his goodness. Yes, he does in fact, test me, but those are the times when I am closest to him. And I have realized that when I am on my knees, those are the times when I feel his goodness the most.

God is good, always. It seems like a simple idea to grasp, but it’s taken me awhile. I am learning now, to be content with living my life one day at a time. If I am always afraid of what bad news I will hear next, I might miss some incredible opportunities to serve God. I might not hear him whispering his goodness in my ears. I might not see his goodness surrounding me—a pregnant woman, a sunset, a couple holding hands, a nice text or phone call…

God is good. If you’ve forgotten that, take a moment to look at what he’s brought you through in your life. The journey may have been difficult so far, but are you not still breathing? Are you not still loved by him?

Why did it take me 1.5 years to remember this?

A Beautiful (but easy?) Community.

I live in a community of lovers: lovers of people; lovers of Truth; lovers of purpose; lovers of life; and most of all, lovers of the Lord. We are lovers of the one who loved us first.

I’m sitting in the middle of downtown Chicago, yet I feel safe, protected, and loved. It’s because I am sitting in the middle of the plaza of my wonderful school—Moody Bible Institute. I love this place, and I am incredibly grateful that God brought me here.

Sometimes I feel a little bit guilty, because I feel like a lot of my high school years were wasted. I lived in a sheltered community for the most part. However, once I hit middle school, then high school, that “shelter” was mostly destroyed due to just growing up, I guess. Anyway, the reason I have felt guilty is because I didn’t do much with my faith during those years. Granted, my faith wasn’t actually real to me until my father died—unfortunately (quite the wake-up call). But before my faith came alive, I wasn’t burning with a desire to reach the lost. I didn’t have an unquenchable thirst for the Lord. My passion for serving God wasn’t overwhelmingly strong.

Sure, after youth group trips, camps, Wednesday nights, and events along those lines, I may have been “on fire for God” for a couple weeks or so. And yes, I volunteered for FCDC, I helped with food drives, I helped with the Christmas jubilee, and all those functions that make you feel good inside plus they look good on college applications. Living well, following rules, not having sex, legalistically praying/reading my Bible were what I did to affirm my salvation. Yes, I had already accepted Christ, and now I
was “living” for him.

But I wasn’t living for him. Aside from serving at various events, my faith was idle. Consequently, I feel as though I did nothing significant at NorthWood Middle school and High school. Maybe I reached a few people here and there or at least planted a seed in their hearts, but only God can know that. I can only hope and pray that those years weren’t completely and utterly fruitless.

Then, as many of you know, came the hardest moment of my life, which changed everything—including the acting out of my faith. Through mine and my friends’ trials over the next couple years God would transform my heart in incredible ways.

He transformed my apathetic faith into a fiery passion for offering his hope to the hopeless. And somehow, through a series of events, he brought me to Moody. So, now I’m at my second home, with people I love, awesome professors, and so many opportunities. But I’m surrounded by Christians. I don’t struggle with finding friends who don’t party; I don’t struggle with trying to spread the Gospel throughout campus; I don’t struggle with feeling safe, supported, and loved. From the day I arrived here, Moody has been a family to me. That’s just what Moody is—a family. It’s great to be surrounded with others who love the Lord and are giving up their lives to serve him, but when I hear about the difficulties my friends at other schools have with finding other Christians, finding solid friends, and what not, I can’t help but feel a little bit guilty.

I guess it’s just a motivation to make sure I get out and get involved. What good is my faith if I spend four years in a city filled with hopelessness, devastation, and lost souls, yet I only focus on my studies and hanging out with friends?

So, maybe my point of this is just a reflection of my recent thoughts, but I want to use this to encourage everyone to start doing something you are passionate about now. Find a ministry to volunteer with, work for, promote, etc. Pray about your desires, and move.

I live amongst believers—followers of Christ. I love them. They support me, and they love me. And they are an incredible gift from God, and they bless me in ways they may never even realize. But I can’t get comfortable just being around them all the time (which is all too easy to do). I have to mobilize and use what they teach me to reach those people who believe they have no hope—the ones who no longer dream.

God may not have me at a secular university where I can witness to the students on campus, but he has placed me in a city filled the lost and the searching. And maybe he blessed me with the opportunity to come to Moody so that I would have the support of these beautiful “Moody” people while we go out and serve the Lord together—while we go out and change the hearts of these Chicagoans together.