Finding the path to life and joy

Welcome back to the blog! While I've taken a hiatus from posting, I've not stopped writing. It's just that I'm exploring different platforms (and have decided on nothing)...because, I think that I have outgrown this site.

...for those who are 'new' to reading my posts - here's a history: I started this blog as our wedding website. Instead of a site on The Knot (or whatever other site there is), I wanted a place that we could have to keep our family and friends updated on our new life together. So, prior to May 29, 2011 - this site had tabs about our wedding, hotels, registries, our awesome wedding party, the story of how Dan and I met - and posts about wedding prep. After, I wrote about our life together as newlyweds. Then, it became our 'homebase' for Dan's treatment. ...and for the last 3 years, where I have shared my journey through the valley of death...and into life. So, eventually, you'll see something new!

That said: let's spend some time here.


Words, phrases - those matter to me. (along with proper punctuation - for the love of God stop using apostrophes to pluralize a word!)  (ahem, let's start over)

Words, phrases - those matter to me. They speak deeply to me.

How many of us have heard, "Oh it's better..." as a phrase to console. "Oh, it's better. Dan is in a better place. It's better for him to no longer suffer, to no longer be living in a body that fights itself."

a) No. That's not helping. because - How can it be better for us to be separated by death?

b) I know that God desires for us (aka all people) to be in relationship. He created us for relationship: first with Him, then with each other. I know that God cherishes relationships - and has graced our marriages as a Sacrament - to be a revelation of His Son to the world. ...so, how could that (our relationship ended by death) be better? How could it be better that this revelation be destroyed by death?

And so, I reasoned that if God allowed this - then, He intended to redeem it. Specifically, I believed - trusted - that He could make good come out of this tragedy. That He could call from light from the darkness of this veil of death - that joy could emerge from the mourning.

Take those words into the frame of our marriage - our covenant of oneness - what was better for one of us, must be better for both of us. This 'better' must be reciprocal by reason. If Dan's death led to resurrection for him - and that IS better, I wholeheartedly concur - then, surely, there must also be resurrection for me.

This is the truth that I clung to as I began the journey of walking through the valley of death. The death of our spouse isn't the end - but the beginning. The valley is where we do the hard work of grieving. God's shadow protects us as we fumble forward - feeling our way toward life - and resurrection.

As I visited Dan on Memorial Day, I had a little conversation with him:

You know, I think the real work of our Sacrament didn't come until you died. It took that release of the flesh to allow me to fully trust you. ...and, it took the release of the flesh for you to fully, unselfishly love - and for me to respond and receive. 

I suppose that's true for all of us. While we are in these bodies, we can never be fully free from selfish ambition or vanity - though we can certainly strive for it. We learn to - sometimes, slowly - sometimes painfully - but, we learn to put the other's needs above ours. We learn to listen. We learn to value the other's voice. presence. help.

Our whole life leading up to marriage is an exercise in, "I can do it myself." (say it in your best toddler voice) We are taught to rely on self...so much so that even God can become an afterthought if we construct our world carefully enough.

This was me. I did this, Dan.
...yes, you did, too. You did, too.

Our journey toward holiness was learning this together.
Our journey toward completion was learning this, even in death.

Finding myself separated from you by death, I looked to you for a guidance - in a way I hadn't in life. I had relied on - and relished - your presence, though I also relied on myself. 
Finding myself without you, I learned to listen for you. I allowed you to be what you wanted to be - 
...the light to help see me through,
...to heal the hurt till the hurt is gone...
...and you consistently led me to Jesus.

...everything I had wanted you to do - to be - in life, you have done in death. 

...and I guess, that's how I know resurrection is real. 
...because somehow,* you are alive and guiding me - though you died. 

When I listen, 
when I quiet myself 
and when I ask: I know.
I know you're...here. 
Still trying to get me to dry my tears and not take life so seriously - to just relax, Jessica.

God is far better - far bigger - than we can even grasp. 


*
This morning, while looking through one of our wedding albums, I was reminded of one of our wedding readings.

1 John 4:7 - 12
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.  

In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life through him. In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another.  

*No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.

A Sacrament is the revelation of God to the individual and to the world. First, the invisible, almighty, overarching God revealed through Jesus. Not only was God revealed to us through Jesus, but through Jesus, in Jesus, God became accessible to us. We had access suddenly to the Almighty, Ever-living, Everlasting God. Through the Holy Spirit and the reception of Sacraments, not only is God revealed to us, we now become a revelation of God to the world.

This is mind-blowing. And how does St. John instruct us to reveal God? Through love. By loving, we are brought to perfection.

You guys, we are imperfect. We love each other imperfectly. On our best days, we still end up rubbing against each other. My image is that our spouse is like sandpaper for us: smoothing the rough edges - perfecting us through love. But it hurts! But it is worth it - to be smoothed out into our best self.

My friends, if you are in the thick of it - where marriage is hard - where your spouse is grating on you - where you feel like at every turn you are coming up short: stay the course. Lean into the Holy Spirit right now and ask for the grace to be LOVE revealed to each other. Marriage is a beautiful, powerful thing - and precisely because of that, it can be hard.

Receive - don't resist. Yield - don't shield. If you learn to journey toward life together - Love will you bring you to perfection.


Happy anniversary. DK Forever. 

Recognize what you have

I wrote this a year and half ago when our sixth anniversary - my first without Dan - was approaching.

One of the best things that Dan and I ever did in our marriage, for our marriage, was to take part in a Worldwide Marriage Encounter weekend. As a result, Dan and I learned to listen to each other, recognize and voice what we loved/appreciated in the other, and to enter into each other's feelings. It changed our marriage.

Dialoguing was a practice that helped transform a good marriage into a great one. Learning how to dialogue helped me discover the great gift that marriage is: a Sacrament.

As a result of Marriage Encounter and our consistently inconsistent practice of dialogue (writing a 10 minute 'love letter' in response to a question/topic), I have 2 years of love letters from Dan. When I was preparing the list of what filled my bucket, I relied nearly completely on those letters.

My reaction to reading them:

1) I can tell when I needed to go to Reconciliation, but I often didn't make time to go regularly. I wonder if we had if we would have felt more secure in both our place with God and each other.

2) I just didn't get it! I didn't know how much Dan loved me, and I didn't REST in his love as a fact. You can tell the moments when I am resting in his love, because I write like it.

3) When I rely on my own feelings, my own understanding of the situation - I am often wrong/off base.

4) I needed to take more opportunities to build up Dan. He needed to hear those words from me, just like I did from him...but I used them as a reward instead of as a life-giving NEED, a requirement. He just needed me to tell him, "You're a good man, Dan." One of the best, Babe.

----------------------------------------
12.28.2018

After a year and a half now of reflecting on these realizations...and listening to my friends struggle through some of the rough points in their marriage, I lovingly plead with you: recognize the gift you have.

I don't say this to guilt you. I promise. I don't say it to be...vindictive or to pour salt into your own wound. Sometimes widows do that, right? We don't give you a chance to feel like you can experience struggles or frustrations with your spouse because "if only xxx was here;" "what I wouldn't give for another minute".... Those statements, while we mean them, can often shut our friends down who are in the middle of real hurt and pain.

I say it because I look back on my time with Dan, my marriage - and I have regrets.

To quote the Garth Brooks' song, my tomorrow never came - and I didn't always try in every way, to show him every day that he's the only one.

So, my regrets come to you as an invitation: love the one you're with. Recognize the gift in the person beside you. Reminisce on the joy you shared; the magic in the story of how you met, dated, grew in love for each other...ponder the quirks they possess that no one else does - and then: TELL THEM. Tell them and don't stop telling them. Tell them even on the days that they are the MOST unlovable; when your respect is wavering - tell them.

...and most of all, stop comparing your marriage and your situation and your family to the ideal you created in your head - or your friends' marriage/situation/family - because that is the surest enemy to resting in the love of your spouse.

Dan was not Ben. Dan was not Jon. Dan was not Joel.
He didn't ask me to pray every morning. He didn't lead me in the study of scripture. Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth to ask. There were parts of our marriage that weren't like other people's.

I was always keeping a measure - trying to make sure that we were "on track;" that we were "okay;" that we were enough like other people. I am sure that Dan felt it. ...and knowing my beloved husband who struggled with feeling like he was enough, already - it hurt him more than he even knew.

Ugh, if I could go back...if I could go back and address my own hurt and feelings of inadequacy - if I could have told him that I didn't feel like I was good enough, that I always felt like I was just a little bit short, that I felt like I was always either too much or not enough...maybe that would have made a difference, sooner.

If I could go back, I would stop needling him to spend less time at the office and throwing himself into that stupid department that would never show him the respect he deserved - I would. I would instead praise him for investing in something that he believed in; in kids who might carry the lessons learned into their next phase. I would voice my respect for his belief in the value of planting seeds - and of doing the hard thing.

What might it change? I suppose it could have the effect that he still spent just as much time at the office (maybe even more now that his wife was proud of him). [and that right there is why you shouldn't use your words of respect to manipulate for YOUR desired/expected outcome]

It would have let him know that I valued him. I valued the effort he put forth for others. I saw him. Maybe no one else saw how much of himself he poured out, but I did. I saw, and I recognized him. I respected him. I loved him.

Dan needed those words like parched ground needs a drink. He didn't just need them every once in a while. He needed them on a regular basis. Our words are life-giving to our spouses. Our time is life-giving. Our service is life-giving. Our gifts are life-giving.

Dan's love language was acts of service. In retrospect, I can look back and see how his devotion to work was a devotion to those whom he taught and supervised and worked for. I can see how much he was thirsty for respect and freedom. I can see how much I was thirsty for affirmation and love.

Marriage Encounter brought us out of our individual bubbles. "Daily" (in quotes because we never quite made it every day - we averaged more of a three times/week practice) dialogues pulled us out of our own experiences, and gave voice to our spouse's feelings. Then, we would just try to identify with the other. (We often tried more to talk about the issue than just focus on identifying what the other person was feeling. We weren't the best - but, I guess, that's not the point. The point is to just do it.)

Marriage Encounter was a start for us. ...but what really clinched it - what really changed my perspective and my practice - was Dan's diagnosis.

Suddenly, not knowing how long I might have Dan in my life caused me to FINALLY drop every part of that comparison/expectation practice. No - Dan wasn't Ben or Jon or Kyle - he wasn't my dad - he wasn't his dad - HE WAS DAN - AND THAT WAS VERY GOOD.

He still worked as much as he could - more than he should have, probably; he still chewed tobacco; he still did things that didn't seem as efficient as I might do them - and while I cared - I loved HIM more than those things. I focused on the person - the gift - he was to me - and he knew it. ...and he finally started listening to my ideas for his work. I really think that once he realized that I respected his work, he finally could trust me to make it better - that it wasn't a personal mark on his 'failing.'

I hate that Dan ever felt like a failure. I certainly never saw him that way...but, I can see now that if he already harbored a fear of letting down his family, his friends - me - that any "suggestion" would only come across has a mark of 'not good enough.'

I sometimes forgot that Dan could have insecurities. I just saw him as a whole being. Competent. Confident. Assured. But he was a real being - with fears and insecurities. Marriage Encounter was a key that helped unlock the door for my husband to let me into that room he felt that he needed to shut away from the world. The dialogues helped us establish trust; they connected me to Dan's heart.

While the questions were sometimes dumb, I have an entire collection, in words, about what Dan valued about me - and our marriage. Sometimes, I rolled my eyes at his, "that meal tonight you made was excellent!" for the 'appreciate something about your spouse' part. But showing love isn't always a grand gesture; recognizing love doesn't have to be a sonnet.

However, you must have a heart that is able to receive a line like "that salad was amazing" and recognize it as love.  The world will NOT tell you that love is a a compliment about your salad. Rom-coms are going to brainwash you into thinking it's a grand gesture. My friends, it can be a grand gesture. It can be dancing under the stars in Paris. ...but those are one-time, grand gesture events.

While beautiful, it's the ordinary time love that we miss most. The hug from behind when you're doing dishes; the sigh (followed by a smile) when you are 5 minutes late (again) coming down from the office; the random note that says "I love you! Your Shining Steed;" the comments about your good cooking; the feel of his camel-hair blazer when you're at an event...the feeling of his hand in yours while you're praying at Mass.

So, my friends, if you are lucky enough to be with the one you love today: recognize what you have in a way that manifests to your love how much you love and respect them. Breathe life into them. Don't wait for a diagnosis or a disaster. "If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts." While it is still today, act. Love them, respect them with all you've got.

In the end, that's the only thing that matters.




The world will tell you to "live with no regrets." I'm here to tell you that's stupid. Of course you have regrets. You're an imperfect being who is figuring out yourself while trying to also keep others alive and functioning. Give yourself the grace to be imperfect. Give your spouse the grace to be imperfect. Just start small. Work on consistency. Just start. Waiting is the only thing to regret.

Give Thanks in all Circumstances....really?

The reminder of October 6 and its significance to Dan & my relationship combined with the Friday night Alpha session, "Why do we pray?" prompted me to think about thankfulness in all circumstances.

One of the main lessons from the retreat I'd been on the weekend before Dan and I broke up was "give thanks for all things in your life," a la St. Paul in 1 Thessalonians 5:18.

On Friday night, as we talked about how we respond to God when our prayers don't seem to be answered and handling the feelings that come. Since I'd just reflected earlier on how I'd thanked God for dating Dan in the wake of our break-up, this idea of thanking God for whatever comes our way was fresh. Suddenly, this thought popped into my head: "I've never thanked God for Dan's death."

The next morning as I spent some time in prayer, I sat in my living room thinking about this. The more I thought, the more I realized that I couldn't do it.

"God, I am thankful for the life we had together.

I am thankful for the time we had together.

I am thankful for the LIFE you gave us in the midst of all that uncertainty and the disease.

I am thankful for the person Dan was, his faith, the lessons he taught me, for his love and the way that he loved me.

I am thankful for us.

I am beyond thankful that in the wake of his death, you have become more present to me than ever. I am thankful for how you have carried me.

I am thankful for the ways you have provided for me in the past year+.

I am thankful for the people you have brought into my life since Dan's death.

...but, I just...I'm not thankful for his death. 

...and even for all the good that may come, God...still...I can't. If you want me to be thankful for this, then you'll have to change my heart."

That evening, I went to worship and adoration.  The event had been fine. Not mountain-moving, but time with Jesus is always good. Toward the end, I was thanking God and talking to Dan about just how crazy it was that I was here...in no way could I have guessed nine years ago, as I was thanking God that He'd brought Dan into my life (even though he didn't think he was man-enough for me)...that 9 years later, here I would be - a Catholic, doing a super-Catholic thing, adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

...and then, I thought about my morning prayer. ...and I heard,

"I'm not thankful for Dan's death, either. I don't expect you to be. I'm not thankful for anyone's death."

Hear that.

Many of us who have experienced great loss will wrestle with trying to understand God's goodness in the wake of what comprehensibly does not seem good. At all. Ever. No matter how much life may come in the wake...that death was not good. We need to hear that God does not look at death as a good thing. 

God doesn't will death - but it is allowed. Death is the natural consequence to sin; sin is separation from God. Sin cannot exist in the presence of Divine Holiness, Life itself. ...and, death is the ultimate consequence: separation from life. We will all experience death because we are human; the presence of original sin, the consequence of fallen humanity. Death is that awful consequence.

...but, it is not the final say. Jesus came to destroy death and the barrier it created to our eternal existence with the Divine. Jesus came and died to destroy death. Jesus' resurrection is our sign that death has, eternally, been destroyed - and our life, united with God, has been restored.

Now, united to Jesus through baptism and faith in his life, death and resurrection: death is simply a room we will pass through onto life: united with the One who destroyed death.


We don't have to be thankful that death exists. We don't have to be thankful that death has separated us from those we love. We can be righteously angry that death exists.

BUT: we must also acknowledge that death is NOT the final word because of Jesus. Death need not separate us from the love of God that it is in Jesus. Death need not separate us from the ones we have loved. We CAN rejoice and be thankful that Jesus has destroyed eternal death and separation in his body, through his death. We can be thankful that this is NOT the end. We can return to joy (rejoice!) again and again and again because JESUS.

I'll be here for you

Friday morning, I had a weird experience. Prior to my morning shower, I moved my (big - one of the liter sizes) bottle of shampoo from the back left corner of the tub to the front right corner so it was next to the conditioner and body wash. During my shower, after squirting the shampoo into my hands, while lathering up, I thought, "Hmm. I don't know if I like that there. I should move that back..." and proceeded to then get caught up in other thoughts all together taking me to different lands.

I turned around to rinse, opened my eyes - and saw the bottle of shampoo returned to the back left corner where it had been sitting - prior to me moving it that morning.

What? Did I do that? ...how could I have done that? My hands were busy the whole time...

Huh.

Weird.

It reminded me of a moment this spring when I'd used the last of the toilet paper on the roll. I took the empty roll off, and thought, "Eh, I'll do that in the morning. I'm going to bed now," and put the metal thing back in its place.

When I woke up the next morning and walked into the bathroom, there was a new roll of toilet paper in its place.

What? Did I do that? ...do I sleep-walk now? ...I don't think so.... I don't usually get up in the night to use the bathroom - and when I do it is a full-wake up process.


Thursday night, I'd had a conversation with a student about "mysterious occurrences" and a talk she'd just listened to about a nun who'd recently died and the order started to experience some "strange behavior" - i.e. the candles being blown out at the same moment in Mass every time. A priest recommended they commit to praying for her for 30 days. On the 30th day, the candles went out again - but this time at the giving of the Peace...signalling her spirit was now at peace.

So, Friday's occurrence made me wonder: have I not been praying enough for Dan? I thought that I'd received my confirmation that Dan was, in fact, at peace with our Lord.

So, this morning, I offered up my Mass for Dan, for his peace, to be fully united with Jesus.

Now, it seems worthwhile to mention that while in Ireland, I had such a strong sense of Dan. I was receiving his gift of a song in my heart, and I just felt very much like he was leading me - and leading me on to someplace new...into a place of embracing more of me...of a future... But upon returning, I haven't sensed him like that. So, the last two months in that regard have been quiet of his presence, but quite full of life.

I settled in to listen to the readings:

Reading 1IS 55:6-9

Seek the LORD while he may be found,
call him while he is near.
Let the scoundrel forsake his way,
and the wicked his thoughts;
let him turn to the LORD for mercy;
to our God, who is generous in forgiving.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.
As high as the heavens are above the earth,
so high are my ways above your ways
and my thoughts above your thoughts.

Responsorial PsalmPS 145:2-3, 8-9, 17-18

R. (18a) The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
Every day will I bless you,
and I will praise your name forever and ever.
Great is the LORD and highly to be praised;
his greatness is unsearchable.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
The LORD is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and of great kindness.
The LORD is good to all
and compassionate toward all his works.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.
The LORD is just in all his ways
and holy in all his works.
The LORD is near to all who call upon him,
to all who call upon him in truth.
R. The Lord is near to all who call upon him.

Reading 2PHIL 1:20C-24, 27A

Brothers and sisters:
Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death. 
For to me life is Christ, and death is gain. 
If I go on living in the flesh,
that means fruitful labor for me. 
And I do not know which I shall choose. 
I am caught between the two. 
I long to depart this life and be with Christ,
for that is far better. 
Yet that I remain in the flesh
is more necessary for your benefit.

Only, conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the gospel of Christ.

I remain...for you.

It is better for you that I am here, Jessica.

Pray. Hope. Do not worry. (St. Padre Pio): reflect upon this was my penance this morning.
Do not trouble yourself with the why, Jessica. Only know that I am here for you. ...I was moved to tears.

Today's Gospel reading focuses on the generous love of God displayed in Christ Jesus. The generous, unmerited - based on no works or no amount of effort - love - and God's right to shower it freely on everyone based on His right as God...and our only work is to receive with an open heart.

During the Our Father, the high school boy next to me did not hold my hand. Holding hands during Mass, especially during the Eucharistic Prayer portion was one of my favorite things to do with Dan. Sometimes, during the Our Father, my open hand will feel a bit heavy - like Dan is holding my hand.
Immediately today, I felt Dan's presence. The presence of love spoke right to my heart, I am here for you. Inaudibly, I prayed the Lord's Prayer; my heart completely overwhelmed with the love of God.

I am here for you.
..
Those words instinctively evoke our wedding song, "I'll be Here for you", written by Robert Earl Keen. The beautiful, aching lyrics - that seemed to me melacholic for a wedding, but somehow accurate for life when we married - reaching fulfillment in our life together.

I'll be the light to guide your way onto same place new... 'Cause better days will come again; clouds will break, your heart will mend. ...I'll be where I've always been, I'll be here for you.  

The truth that God was leading me to this Mass I'll detail in another post. But know, that this experience with Dan was helping to prepare for me what he is asking me, to accept one of the hardest teachings of this faith - this life: unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it bears no fruit. All those hopes and dreams, the desires that I have longed for since childhood, I must not simply take them to the Cross; I must put them on the Cross. I must let them go and die...accepting that the generous love of God for me is exactly enough in this moment. He may choose to resurrect them - and He may not...and I must accept that this is love. ...and LOVE is generous and enough- and Jesus, who is the embodiment of love, is enough for me...and can fill every area in the way He lovingly, generously chooses. ...and it will be good.


I only need to look. Look at the story of us. Perfectly imperfect. Extraordinarily ordinary. Ethereally earthly. Terrestrially transcendent.

Buoyed by Hope. To remind me of His great, immense, all-encompassing love for me, he allowed Dan to press into that veil - and to remind me that he (Dan) is here. and, He (Jesus) is here. Here. Right in middle of where you are. where I am. ...and generously holding out the invitation that today, we can take His hand and He will lead us onward.



Onward and Upward!
(as F.C. Parrish, Jr., my friend & mentor, would close every class)

Fumbling Forward, Buoyed by Hope

7/9/17:

I tried to get through Mass today without crying, though I don't know why [probably that responsibility trait], which I did...though I choked back some tears during a few songs. I prayed for my father-in-law's heart to breathe, to find air, to find life.

I am now facing the rest of the day...and I am at a loss.

Tired with sorrow,
tired with grief,
tired with strength.

"Come to me,
all you who labor and are heavy burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you,
for my yoke is easy,
and my burden light."

Pierced.
My heart feels pierced while I try to work to pass the time.
And I thought,
"I thought I had moved on from this.
I though I was healing.
I thought I was moving forward.
I thought I was ready for life,
for what comes next.
But right now, I don't ever want to move forward."

That's not true.
It's not true that I don't want to "ever"
move forward;
it's just that I didn't think forward
would sting -
I didn't think possibility
would pierce -
forward seems like
leaving something behind,
or lugging it as baggage behind you.

I don't want that.
I want my burden to be light.
I want to carry light.
I want to carry Dan's light with me into the future,
pressing on further into God's light -
(finally) letting him show me the way,
leading.

Accepting Dan as light,
recognizing him as light
is when I feel most light,
most loved, most free.

He was so heavy.
When he would sleep,
I swear every part of his body
felt ten times heavier.
He was so grounded,
So "of the earth,"
So sensory.
For that reason, it was hard to imagine him in heaven.
[Not that I thought he'd gone to hell, but where? where could he be?]

Then God showed me Dan,
transformed by love,
through love,
for love,
receiving his crown for his love.

and this fit.
Transformed Dan: by love, through love - 
the corruptible replaced with the incorruptible - LIGHT,
fully formed, at rest, at peace, HOME.

He is not what he was.
He is what we will become -
should we choose the path of transformation and light, 
by way of the Cross.

What the path to Healing Looks Like: Redeeming Love, Redeeming Death

So, my friends and patient listeners, something happened during Mass the day before our anniversary, which has completely changed my outlook. But, first, I want to share my journal entry from Easter:

4/16/17

Here is the thing: Easter celebrated in the wake of experiencing the death of a loved one is a much more REAL experience.

It is a verifiable fact that Jesus of Nazareth died.
It is a verifiable fact that Jesus rose to life - an entire religion based upon a lie would not have survived 2000 years. It would be exposed as a lie. The followers martyred in the immediate years after Jesus' resurrection by the Romans, had the Resurrection been a lie, would have been the last (followers of JC). But, they weren't.

This strange sect of Judaism grew. It kept growing in the face of intense persecution and orders forbidding it to spread. If these were lies - it wouldn't have continued.

Jesus lived.
Jesus DIED.

Jesus died. Fully dead, he was entombed.

Then, he came back to life - and remains alive - fully alive in heaven - body and soul.

It's important that Jesus ascended into heaven - because we need to note that the body is part of our spiritual life - not just our soul.

Today, I visited Dan's tomb. His body is there. I believe his soul is somewhere else. Near me. Near Jesus. ...but not with his body. His body is buried. ...but someday there will be a resurrection of the dead.

5/28/17

Today at Mass, during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, while singing the Agnus Dei [Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; have mercy on us. Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; have mercy on us. Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world; grant us peace.], I was overcome with thankfulness.

I was "filled to all fullness" (today's reading from Ephesians 1) with Jesus - expectation and gratitude to be one with Jesus in the Eucharist - to receive Him and not a symbol - but the living God.

This thankfulness was a cementing of my commitment to Catholicism.

(I know some of you will be surprised by that statement; just bear with me.) there was a thought in my head as I was joining the church (6.5 years ago) that maybe I wouldn't always be Catholic - like if Dan died early - maybe I would go back to being a Protestant.

...and today, NO. Today, it was like I could never go back. I am Catholic and I love being Catholic. I love Jesus more today and know Him in a more profound, deeper way than I did as an Evangelical - and in a way I never could as an Evangelical - and it is ALL because of Dan.

I was just sitting there (in church), so thankful for Dan - so immensely, eternally thankful.

...and God suddenly filled my mind with this image of Dan receiving his crown of life, and there was a huge jewel in his crown - and that jewel represented me. My jewel - my commitment to Catholicism and to Jesus - that is Dan's jewel.

...and that is my first vision of Dan in heaven.

...and I was so happy for Dan...so filled with all the fullness: gratitude, joy, immense happiness.

Prior to this, I just couldn't picture Dan in heaven. He was a person who was just so "of the earth" - not ethereal, that I just had a hard time imagining. There's a belief that when your loved one enters heaven, you'll know. Since time doesn't exist out there, I don't know "when" Dan received his crown; I just know that he has.

The path to healing: Sitting with what was lost

The last week of classes, I felt like "my bucket" - full of the scraps of paper that described who I was, the things that filled my heart and my life, which was already sitting precariously had been viciously knocked to the ground.

I told my spiritual director, Deacon Wayne, this on May 3. He said, "Jessica, I want you to sit. on the ground. with your empty bucket and all that was poured out from it - and pay it homage. Show it reverence. Honor what you had and what was lost. You can determine after that what you will pick up, what you will carry with you, what still fits."

My grandma was right. (of course she was. why I ever doubt my grandparents' wisdom is beyond me.) Eventually, we have to face what we lost. We have to sit with it. We have to recognize what we lost. ...and then, only then, can we begin to recognize who we have become and embrace ourselves in this newness.

Sitting with what was lost. This is what I need to do. This is my challenge. My summer. My anniversary. Sitting with what was lost - Dan - at the cemetery. 

In the weeks that followed this journal entry leading up to when I actually did sit with what was lost, I really felt my emptiness. I could start to feel the pull between life and death; between forward and past.

I spent Mother's Day with my mom and grandma in Iowa. (From the week of 5/17)

Now I'm home...and now I am finally feeling the loneliness when I return to the apartment (where I lived with Dan). I would rather be at my parents'; this place makes me sad. It doesn't fit anymore.

I feel that...and...what I really feel is an ache in my bones. Dan is gone.
Dan is gone.
Dan is gone and I have a house full of stuff for him...and he's not going to use it.
I have a house full of "us"...and no us. Stuff for our life together...and no life.
This sucks.

Being home (at my parents), in the presence of others, I feel like I can live again. Like I am inspired to take care of myself...but being here, I want to hole up.

I feel that resistance building up in my soul, which usually happens when I'm on the verge of a new thing.

I just miss Dan so effing much.

In an interview later that week, a candidate said "someone died," in response to a question about the needs of the department - so casually that it took my breath away.

I had to swallow it down, the tears at my door.
Someone.
anyone.

MY someone. MINE.
Dan Kiesling was his name. 

(From 5/25 - the day I finally sat)

God,

My heart is so sad. I am so sad. I feel like I am sadness itself. I feel far from everything I once was. I feel like a shell of sadness walking around.

I am just really struggling to see the good, the hope, the purpose. I don't feel like I have a place anymore. My place was beside Dan, with Dan - and all that was here. I was content to let him shine, and bask in his light.

and now, how can I go on?
How can I do this without someone? I need someone to live with, to live for...people keep me going and I feel so lonely.

It's like I was running on adrenaline for the first 6 months after Dan died - and now, it's like reality...and I don't like it.
I don't want it.
...but I don't get a choice.
It sucks.

I guess I have a choice in how I respond...that just feels like so much work.

I spent the day of May 25 reading through our old Marriage Encounter dialogues, recording the little ways that we recognized love in the other. For what fills our buckets other than love?

My Bucket:

•  Working with Dan: spending time together in the morning, 
• driving to work together,
• listening to Dan Patrick, the daily readings, Our Daily Bread,
• instant messaging about random stuff, 
• walking down the hall at MSU to bounce ideas off each other,
• lunches together,
• barefoot walks around campus,
• walking down the stairs (at the UA) and seeing him waiting for me, wearing his aviators - or his cowboy hat - or his Ray Bans - and hearing his huff (because I'd taken longer than I'd said)
• waiting for Dan (at the UA) and seeing him walk down the sidewalk, illuminated by the setting sun

• Feeling complete in his presence
• Being told by his touch that I am loved, cared for, wanted, desired, chosen, secure and peaceful
• Compliments
• Becoming the power-couple of CALS and Animal Science
• Laughing
• The gift that Dan is
• Someone being for me
• Being loved, the object of someone's affection
• Living the call to unity
• Practicing our faith by living out our Sacramental call to be Jesus to/for each other
• Feeling fully alive: the rush of purpose, being fulfilled, by living out that Sacramental call
• Feeling wholeness, completion
• Living out our call to practice the presence of love
• Everything being tinged with positivity, with possibility
• Dan pushing me to NOT focus on the negativity - or the fear - or the sorrow
• Compliments on my cooking
• DIALOGUE
• Someone to rest on
• Someone concerned about providing for my needs; someone actively pursuing that need
• Being someone's someone
• Being needed to make that someone's day - to help them feel their worth and importance
• Having someone seek to understand your feelings and how "you tick"
• Dan's way of always knowing how to make me laugh and smile when I was sad/upset/mad
• KNOWING (and having) someone in your corner - fighting for you, having your back
• Impressing Dan by looking good (having someone to be motivated to look good/fashionable for)
• Being desired
• Experiencing forgiveness, resentment, disappointment, and joy
• Laughing together
• TOUCH
• An abundance of inside jokes
• Receiving generous love
• Conversations in the car
• Singing together
• Praying the Rosary together
• Being Respected
• Being Accepted
• Date nights at Buffalo Wild Wings
• Being together at Mass (especially holding hands during the Gospel reading and through the Eucharistic liturgy) 
• Watching and talking sports together
• Someone to go along with my ideas
• Being the organizer,
• catalyst,
• Joy,
• Light-heartedness
• Being Dan's greatest supporter
• Being Dan's cheerleader
• Pursuing Dan's dream was my dream - because my dream was to be my husband's best helper
• Feeling HOME (wherever I was) because I was with Dan
• Settling down and developing roots
• SACRAMENT
• Being seen and appreciated through dialogue, "hearing it" on paper - 
• "your compassion,"
• "Your mercy - looking for the good in others,"
• "You bring the fun - always smiling,"
• "Your ability to get me to look at things with a different point of view,"
• "Your value of family and friends"
• Being grounded, supported, anchored, connected and purposeful
• The hope of a family, of being parents

Honestly, I had wanted to avoid this day - a "grief day." But in recognizing what I lost, I finally gave our life a voice. Marriage is such a gift. The GREATEST gift. The best hardest thing I've ever done. The little things ARE the big things. The little things are what makes up the "us." They mattered. They happened. We have to give them the honor that they have blessed us with.

What Anniversaries Feel Like: More

Happy Feast of the Trinity!

The mystery of the Trinity: God existing in 3 distinct persons - Father, Son, Holy Spirit: each a manifestation of the essential identity of God: LOVE.

The priest today stated that this feast is the only feast that would have existed had the universe never been created, if man had never sinned - this feast alone would exist. It would exist because it is a celebration of God's eminent nature - not a celebration of action (miracle done for us); it is a celebration of existence. Wow. Since it is a celebration of God's existence, it is a celebration of the love - for God IS love.

Additionally, he explained that the beginning is divine love and the destination is divine love. Along the way, we are invited to experience, to share, to continue in, to progress toward divine love. This is the essence of our human existence. To know love, to be loved, to grow love, to be love. The challenge is to love like God does: loving the mere existence of the person and recognizing that they are good. [not for what they do, how they act, how they will elevate you, or who they can become: who they are in this very moment]

As I've been reflecting on this truth, I've come to this conclusion as well: if sin never entered the world, marriage is the only sacrament that would have existed. We would not have needed the sacraments of initiation (baptism, eucharist, confirmation) or reconciliation for we would always have perfect communion with God. We would not need the priesthood because we would have had full, direct communion with Jesus. I don't think we would have needed the sacrament of healing, for death had not entered the world. But marriage would have still existed...for it was in that Genesis account (prior to the fall) that God declared it was not good that man was alone, and so, a suitable helper was created.

All the Sacraments are expressions of Divine Love, but marriage is the most easily recognized as love. Today's feast of love happens to fall on a day of particular importance in my family: my grandparents' 70th wedding anniversary.

On June 11, 1947, Joe and Ellen Kremer united their lives together in the sacrament of marriage. My grandpa passed away nearly 7 years ago. When I realized that today is 70 years, I started to cry.

Why? I asked myself. Rationally, we will say that they had a long and fulfilling marriage; 63 years together, 6 children, 13 grandchildren, 14 great-grandchildren - there is so much to be thankful for. Indeed there is, and believe that I am quite thankful, but this is the truth that I realized with my own wedding anniversary two weeks ago: love will always want more.

My own experience arriving to this truth (and most likely, a continual progress toward living this and knowing it more and more) came on our anniversary, and I think, as both Dan's, and God's, gift to me.

Our 6th anniversary fell on Memorial Day. I determined that I wanted to spend it with Dan, so I went to the cemetery armed with journals, books, coffee and water - and a triangle donut (one of Dan's favorites, though not filled with maple cream so he would've been disappointed). It was a beautiful sunny day, and I sat on a blanket at Dan's graveside. The day reminded me of the afternoon we spent napping in the parking lot of a Catholic church (Christ the King) in Ann Arbor in the early days of diagnosis and tests.

In reading a year of our Marriage Encounter dialogues, and cards that I had written Dan last year, there is always an element in my writing of moving forward - of reaching higher - of accomplishing the work set out for us. Dan referenced it in some of his dialogues - it's as if I was willing him to get better.

and, I was. At least, I was trying. and, he was willing me to stay grounded; to be focused in this moment; to be right here, right now. I was willing him toward healing, and he was willing me toward hope. We were the embodiment of Winston Churchill's famous saying: "Never, never, never, never give up."

I think that's why this year has been so hard. Dan was everything to me - I gave all my effort to his care, well being, life...and I would gladly do it all again - and SOONER.

and I am convinced he would say the same. In his writing, there was always an element of wanting to be more for me; of not living up to his true potential or calling - of always feeling like he was falling short of the bar.

When I read our dialogues, I came to this realization: I just didn't get it! I knew that Dan loved me. I knew that he loved me very much. But, I didn't know how much Dan loved me, and I didn't REST in that love as a fact. There are times that I do, and you can tell because I write like it. In reading Dan's words, I realized that I needed to take more opportunities to build Dan up. He needed to hear words of encouragement and affirmation from me.

Recognizing this, I took some time to talk to Dan about it - and apologize for not realizing the depth, and not affirming more often how much I respected him. The day before our anniversary, I was sharing this insight/regret with my friend Andrea, and instantly, Bruno Mars' song, "When I Was Your Man" popped into my head.

"I shoulda brought you flowers,
shoulda held your hand,
sat around and talked for hours - when I had the chance,
taken you to every party - because I remember how much you love to dance,
those are the things I shoulda done, when I was your man."

Dan.

Popping into my head with a song, again. This time, to let me know that it's okay; he had regrets, too. He would go back and do things differently - better - too.

Of course.

Of course, we both wished for more. More of everything.
Of course, he wishes he had shown more romantically.
Of course - because he loved me - and when you love someone, you always want more.

When you are in love, you can simultaneously be beyond thankful for all that you have, and want more. You want the love to never stop, to never end. THIS is our example of God's love: we always want more of love! THIS is the beauty of God's infinite self, and Trinitarian unity: we will always be filled, and there will always be room for more. We will not be bored in heaven. There will always be more to explore in love: the heights, the depths, the width, the breadth of love continues on into everlasting.

Love doesn't end.
Love multiplies.
Love grows.

Love fills.