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.

Finding JOY in Christmas by loosing the tradition

 Earlier this week, my hairdresser asked me if I have any Christmas traditions. ...I couldn't think of any.

There was a time that I felt bound by traditions - that if we didn't do each of the things we had done in the past, then it wouldn't be Christmas. It felt to me, in my twenties, that for Christmas to be Christmas, then it had to be like it was - like it always had been - and thus, forever would be. It felt that I needed to recreate the Christmas of childhoods past; if you could do Christmas like you did then, you'd have Christmas. (Apparently, I hadn't realized  that in the midst of all those years growing up - we were creating traditions; they weren't something that had been etched in stone from the beginning of time.)

I still remember throwing a tantrum as a 28-year-old while on the phone with my mom. For the first time in the 24 years since arriving in the world, my brother would not be spending Christmas with us. He would spend it with his girlfriend's family. I. was. aghast. WHAT? HOW could it be Christmas without Matt? What would we do on Christmas day if we weren't unwrapping presents? We were going to wait until December 27 to open gifts? WHAT. WHAT IS THIS MADNESS? It would just be the three of us?

...is this what the rest of my life will look like? Just me, hanging out with my parents like it's a regular day while Matt is off being in his own family and I'm a 28-year-old spinster with no one to love her? This? This is what my Christmas existence is resigned to be?

Okay; I get it. I'm *a little* dramatic. Even in the moment, I knew that I was being dramatic. But those were my true feelings. I had bought into the Hallmark-version of Christmas. Christmas is family AND LOVE (probably love first) - and traditions - and all the boxes must be checked - or was it actually Christmas?

Christmas became an event. Even though I knew the reason for the season, Christmas was more about me than Jesus. I was longing for love; for the time of fulfillment to come; my life was a big Advent still - I was waiting for the 'event'.

When Dan came into the picture, Christmas became less about the traditions. ...more about us. It was like when Dan came into my life, the time of fulfillment had arrived. Christmas - the Incarnation - Jesus revealing God to us - is the revelation of love. When love came, Christmas wasn't an event anymore. It was more of a state of being.

The incarnation is not an event, but an institution. What Jesus once took up, he never laid down.  ~Father Vincent McNabb

I tend to think of Christmas as an event. Jesus born - it happened; we celebrate the happening of an event. But this...posits an establishment of a new covenant.

The Divine dwelt among us (John 1)...the Divine continues to dwell among us.

Christmas is not simply an event. We are not just celebrating a one-time happening - but a truth revealed. Christmas celebrates the continual revelation of TRUTH to the world.

...like marriage...the wedding may be an event, but it is the establishment of an institution. A family unit, a Sacrament, has just been created. We celebrate not just the happening - but the "Yes" created. Saying "yes" is more than a ring - more than a piece of paper - more than a legal document - more than an addition. It is a creative fusing. A new bond created - a new limb bursting forth - a shoot sprouting. The "Yes" makes way for an entirely new life to exist.

Christmas ushered in a new way to exist! A new way TO LIVE.

Once I found love, I began to loose my hold upon tradition. I didn't need to rely on doing things the way they'd always been done to ensure that the event happens the way it was supposed to. (just like the Jews didn't need the law once the Messiah came) When you have love in the flesh - you have everything you need!

I have everything I need. After Dan and I were married, we spent Christmas in Tucson, in California, with strangers, with friends. What mattered was that we were together. The 'one thing' that we always did was Mass. That 'one thing', that is what remains constant for me every Christmas. From the time I was a wee babe until now: Christmas is spent worshipping.


I have everything I need. I am surrounded by love. Moreover, I am inhabited by Love - Love the Holy Spirit; Love the Eucharist. The only Christmas tradition I need now is Love: worshiping God at Mass and being with those I love, my family and friends.




If I watch Elf, great. If I bake some cookies, cool. If I don't - well, I still have everything that actually fills my cup of cheer.

Merry Christmas, dear ones. May you know how deeply, highly, and widely you are loved this Christmas and always.

Overcoming: the diagnosis, the death, the darkness

Toward the beginning of October, I'd said that I would write when little things prompted. Apparently, for the last three weeks, I've not been prompted by much. ;) Or, rather...the words didn't just flood my mind.

This morning, though, the words came with this little headline: "Dear Christians, please stop saying everything happens for a reason...."

Yes, please do. 

Sometimes the reason things happen is because they are the consequences of a series of stupid decisions. Sometimes the reason things happen is because they are the consequences of a series of sacrificial choices in the moment in the hopes of a better outcome down the road - and then, they are. Sometimes the reason things happen is because of sin, brokenness, hurt, and death. Sometimes the reason things happen is because in this life, we will have trouble. (because of those aforementioned)

In this life, you will have trouble....

Jesus himself told us so. In this life, we will have trouble. For some reason, I thought that if God was really good, though, He would exempt me from this. If God were really good, if God really loved me - then, He would demonstrate his love for me in this: Jessica would not know suffering. 

So, when Dan would repeatedly get sick, and after every single judging trip come home sick and be sick for a week...and doctors just kept saying it was a sinus infection because he "worked in a petri dish"...my trust in God waivered. ...and by waiver, I mean, I put a strong-arm up to keep God from getting too close. I still practiced my faith, still sought him...but at a reasonable distance. 

Why? Why would I do that? ...it was a natural response to fear. 

When we are afraid, we put up a defense. We build a wall. We hunker down. 

...but why were you afraid of God, Jessica? I thought you loved him. 

I thought I did, too. ...but, I think I was more in love with the idea of God than the reality. ...and, I put parameters on God's goodness. 

(and, to be honest, I'd been doing this since I was in college. My response to someone challenging my prayer request for a farmer-husband: 'what if God doesn't want that for you?' "Well, of course, he does - God loves me!" ...eventually, I worked through that one) 

Because I'd worked through one parameter, I thought I was done. I thought I'd entered into the pasture of my rest.

As we neared closer and closer to Dan's diagnosis, the fear was overwhelming. Not only were we about to have breakthrough - we were also moving 2000 miles - "home". The day that we received Dan's official diagnosis, the same day that our house was loaded onto a moving truck, I finally broke. In the car, driving to Dan's appointment (where we were late because of the whole house being packed up, thing), I broke. 

At Mayo, you can't be more than 10 minutes late. If you are, then, you are rescheduled. Well, we couldn't be rescheduled. We were leaving the state - that day - (by original plans) - and it was literally impossible that we would make it anywhere near a 10-minute mark. It would be at least 30. 

We were screwed. At that realization, (while driving), I yelled and remember hitting an empty, plastic water bottle against the steering wheel at the injustice of it all.

But - 

In that moment of sheer anger and fear, I yelled to God that HE ALONE had to fix this. He HAD to do something. This was absolutely impossible for us to remedy. I could do nothing else. Nothing. I could do nothing. I was powerless...He alone was the only one who could open a door - a window - anything. He alone was the only one who could take the wheel, and lead us forward.

take heart! I have overcome the world. 

Miraculously, when Dan called Mayo back (he had already called once when he was told about the ten-minute rule leading to Jessica's breakdown)...they told him that the doctor would see us whenever we arrived. Whenever - we - arrived. Whenever.

(Maybe I should have taken that as a sign things were serious?) 

In that moment, I knew that I had crossed over the threshold. The walls were broken down. The Light had come. God heard my prayer. God saw me. God was not distance. He was here. 

He was really for us. 

That was the moment that my life changed. Yes, I had been walking with God my whole life, really. Yes, at the age of 20, the Holy Spirit "turned on the light" and I knew that Jesus loved me - and I understood what it meant to "be in relationship" with him; to love him meant to live for him. I understood it. I lived it to the best of my ability. ...but, I had only let God in so far. 

There was still so much about him that I didn't understand - but could only be learned through entering more fully into His presence...which meant allowing Him to enter more fully into my heart. To come into the rooms that I didn't really want him to know about; to shine light into the corners. 

Being accepted has always been the deepest cry of my heart, and I was convinced that if Jesus were to really see the depths, there'd be no hope for me.

But, in that moment, I knew: Jesus was is my only hope.

In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world.  (John 16:33)

It would be absolutely ridiculous at this point to say, "Well, Jessica, there is your reason. Dan got cancer so that you could come closer to Jesus. See? Everything does happen for a reason." What sort of backward world do you live in? What sort of cruel God is this? Who causes cancer just so we can get outside our petty selves for a moment to see the bigger picture? 

No.

Cancer, evil, sickness, disease, death - these are not created by God who because of His nature of goodness can only create what aligns with himself. 

Instead, when we allow God into a situation, He can work those events together for good. (Romans 8:28) 

When we allow God into a situation, He can bring good from it - because He is all Goodness. 

When we allow God into the darkness, He always brings light - because He is Light. When we allow God in, He brings His full nature. 

When God enters into a situation, He redeems it. Because Jesus himself suffered, suffering can be redemptive for us...but, it is dependent upon us. We have been given free will, and we can choose in our moments of suffering, doubt, darkness, temptation, fear, grief - if we are going to allow God to cross the threshold or not. Even when He has entered, it is still entirely dependent upon us whether we show him around the place and let ourselves be seen, known, and accepted as we truly are - or whether we just keep him to the safe spaces.

God will not push you. He will wait in the sitting room for you. He will wait in the alley. He will throw rocks at your window. He will hold a boombox over his shoulders. He will let you rail against him and hit a water bottle on the steering wheel: but when you lift up your tearful eyes, and give him permission to come close - he will. 

While he might be thinking, "what took you so long?" He'll wait to say it until you know that you are loved, cared for, and held. ...and then whisper with a twinkle in his eyes, "I've always been here. I've just been waiting for your, 'yes.'" 

Searching for my heart's love

Today, I am sharing with you one of the most significant moments of my pilgrimage to Ireland. This was the Saturday of our trip; our second-to-last day in the Emerald Isle. Our pilgrimage included daily Mass, and the members of the pilgrimage took turns sharing the duties of reader. I read the first day (Sunday)...and was asked to read prior to Saturday's Mass. Nearly every other day, I read the readings ahead of time - so that I'd be ready, just in case. I didn't on this day. If I had, I probably would've said no. :) 

...without further ado, my story:

7/22/17

Today, I read.

I'm not in prison; just reading behind the bars separating the chapel from the Benedictine sisters.

It was a very hard reading, especially given the dream I had the night before I left for Ireland. In a soap-opera-like turn of events, Dan had been discovered as not dead, but I'd believed that he was - and had been in the process of "living my life" - when this announcement was made. So, I went to where he was (this strange hospital/school) - but I couldn't get to him. I could hear him, but I couldn't ever get to where he actually was. It was very upsetting.

Today's reading was from the Feast of Mary Magdalene:

A reading from the Song of Songs 3:1-4b: 

The Bride says:
on my bed at night, I sought him whom my heart loves;
I sought him, but I did not find him.
I will rise then and go about the city;
in the streets and crossings I will seek
Him whom my heart loves.
I sought him but I did not find him.
The watchmen came upon me, as they made their rounds of the city:
"Have you seen him whom my heart loves?"
I had hardly left them
when I found him whom my heart loves.

I feel like I have a choice of two things to write about: the deep sorrow in my soul ... or the fact that only in the heart of Jesus do I have any solace or hope of comfort. Our Mass today was said in a Benedictine Priory dedicated to the Perpetual Adoration of the Sacred of Heart of Jesus (Cobh, Ireland).

The Gospel reading was Jesus appearing to Mary Magdalene after his resurrection. "Don't cling to me, for I have yet to return to my Father; but, go - and tell my disciples to go on ahead of me - to wait and to pray till I come to them."

Father said Mary, devastated by the loss of the One who had restored her to wholeness, was probably rejoicing that things would be back as they were. As she embraces Jesus, he seems to know that her heart longs for the way things were - and yet, "Behold, He is making all things new." Always.
(it's not a one-and-done, but a constant converstion to the newness.)

So, he gently tells her. He speaks to her heart - and then sends her out with the gospel - "Behold, you (even you) will be my witnesses to the ends of the earth." Go - tell my brothers what you have seen and heard and touched. Go.

So, Mary does.

She does exactly the opposite of Moses (whom we've been hearing about all week). She doesn't question, "Who am I to go?" Mary Magdalene has been transformed by love - and she knows the One who has made her new. She knows she is loved, and she loves him in return.

She doesn't question, "What will I say? Who will I tell them who sent me?" Jesus tells her exactly waht to say and to whom to go. She knows the One who sent her - and she trusts him because He has loved her in a way no one ever has.

I had a moment last night where I think God came to me... I had this vision brighter than I'd ever seen - my eyes were closed, and these images of green and gold - like sunlight through trees - brighter than anything I'd ever seen, passed before me - and I felt like I was in the presence of holiness.

I just wanted to stay in that place; bask in that presence...but I felt prompted to ask for what I wanted.
But I had no idea what to ask for.
I had no idea what my heart wants most.
I didn't fell like I could ask for it - instead just a "I don't know; what do you want for me?
What will you do for me? Do you want me to hope for the things I have before? for motherhood, for marriage? Will you do that for me?"

...and then it was dark and I felt like I'd lost it - like maybe I don't really know His heart for me.


After Mass, three different people told me that the face that I read this particular reading is a sign. But a sign of what? I don't know.

Have I found the One whom my heart loves?

I feel like I'm a "yabbit" here. Yes...but.

Yes, in an amazing, miraculous way I have found more of Jesus in my heartbreak. I am in love with him more now than I was with Dan here. I have a much stronger, more profound, deep knowledge that I am loved - and I trust his heart more for me now than when Dan lived.

I do. I love Jesus more now than a year ago - and I want to love him more. I want more of him. I am no longer afraid of the Holy Spirit living in me - I want that. I want more of Him. More. More. MORE.

But, I still want to love a person. I want to be married. I want a family. I still want those things. I do.

The hardest part of grief is feeling you straddle two worlds. Two lives.
One that feels broken, desolate, a promise dashed.
One that hopes breathes, that lives, that laughs.

Two hearts.

Like today's words: Don't. Go.

I don't know how to live in two worlds. I don't know what my "don't" is...but my soul clings to Hope. My heart has been buoyed by Hope - and my Hope has a name: Jesus.

A view from the backside of the Priory

Now that it's been over 6 months since I penned these words, I see how the Holy Spirit has continued gently leading me through this process of voicing my heart. I can't speak for all Christians, but for me, I have often felt a need for permission to want what I want. Like, it is somehow holier to be all "whatever God, have your way" - when there are desires he's pressed upon us - when he wants to hear us articulate what is on our hearts.

Of course this doesn't mean that I dictate my will to God and expect him to "Magic 8-ball" my requests; but what I am invited to do is to share my hopes and dreams - and ask the One who has loved me with an everlasting love, who has created me, who knows me to have his way in me...while trusting that what he's laid on my heart is good - and that the One who calls me is faithful - and He will do it.

So, what's all that mean, anyway, Jessica? Gah, you've figured me out, self. You know how I like to couch my thoughts. 

What does it mean? Well, I want to be a mom, and I want to be married. I want to be part of a family; I want a family. I do. Those are still desires of my heart...and I want to trust God to provide for me, believing that He will...in His way and His time. It took me awhile to be brave enough to voice it. 

St. Mary Magdalene, pray for us.

I will rise

Today I'm sharing with you "My Moment" from my pilgrimage to Ireland this past summer. There is a lot on my heart as Dan's birthday approaches tomorrow. The last few days have been plagued by the heaviness of grief...and I have need to "hear" from Dan (but haven't). Reading this reminded me of the hope to which I cling...that hope which is a buoy to my soul.

My moment...at Mass today (7/20/17)

Today was the first time I saw Dan's resemblance in someone else.

Today during the Gospel reading, I looked up at Father David - and I saw Dan. His hairline, his nose, his eyes - his resemblance. Now, I've looked at Father for 4 days so far and not once seen him [Dan]...until today. ...and to have the first person you see resemble Dan be a priest? His "dream" job? ...how do you handle that?

My heart - overcome with grief...all I could see and think was how much I missed him. How much I love him...and I was so, so sad. And I cried. and my nose ran. And then, they came with the offering basket...and my purse completely spilled. And, I was so distracted from my grief that I laughed, and that was Dan.

During the Eucharistic Liturgy, I just felt so sad...all the tears. I remember feeling so sad looking out at the beauty behind the altar, wondering how I could long for heaven when my heart hurt so much here - when this pain feels so much more real...and I just invited the Holy Spirit to come, come.

Then I noticed a cow grazing at the foot of the cross. Honestly, it just made me feel sadder.
After receiving Jesus, as I prayed I looked back out at the cross and the sun was lighting up the field with the cattle, and I heard the song, "I Will Rise."

I will rise on eagle's wings, before my God fall on my knees - and rise...

No more sorrow, no more pain - I will rise. I will rise.

No more sorrow. No more pain.

In that moment, I knew. I knew that God was reassuring me Dan was in a far better place. There is a peace that he has come to know - his faith is now his eyes. He will rise.

Photo credit: Emily Holman

As Mass ended, I headed to the pasture to capture this beautiful scene and to worship.

There's a peace I've come to know though my heart and flesh may fail.

There's an anchor for my soul, I can say, "It is well."

Jesus has overcome, and the grave is overwhelmed. 

Victory is won - He is risen from the dead.

I will rise when He calls my name, 

No more sorrow; no more pain. 

I will rise on eagle's wings, 

Before my God fall on my knees - and rise, I will Rise.

There's a day that's drawing near when this darkness breaks to light; 

and the shadows disappear and my faith shall be my eyes.

And I hear the voice of many angels say, "Worthy is the Lamb!"

And I hear the cry of every longing heart, "Worthy is the Lamb!"

 

 

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)

Embracing the W

A year ago at this time, I could not fathom referring to myself as a widow.

I hated the word.

I hated the thought that the word now defined me.

I wanted to resist this reality.



So, I did. :) Just like I continue to call Dan my husband because calling him "my late husband" seems like a lie - because I was the late one, he wasn't. :)


The week of my trip to Ireland, I had this dream. I had been singing worship songs with this (Irish) (younger) man, and we had a fantastic connection. After awhile, he said, "So, I see that you have a ring on your finger. Are you married, then?"



"Actually...I'm a widow."


The first time I used that phrase was in a dream and it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

It fits, now. It fits.

And, I used that response to quite a few inquiries while I got to know my group and others on the trip.

Just one of the small ways that God is guiding me, ever so gently, to embrace this new life. It does not happen at all at once. Everything takes time...and there are days where it feels like 2 steps forward and 3 steps back, but the key is that I am being led - and I am being led gently and lovingly. This is the path to healing - trusting our path and our healing to the One who created us.

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.

Just get married already. Stop making excuses.

Announcement: I interrupt the string of heart-wrenching posts about sadness to get on a soapbox.

To the couple that's been dating for 2 years+ (and you are 24* or older): just get married already.
Or don't - and break up.

But, seriously, you should have that sh*t figured out already. If you don't, you are just wasting the other person's time - the person you claim to care about, but apparently aren't willing to make a lifetime commitment to - but are willing to tie up the line so that nobody else can have a chance. Figure it out already.

Having experience the Sacrament of Marriage and the graces that flow from it...marriage is the greatest gift. Our marriage because it was a Sacrament has allowed me to continue experiencing love and understanding God's love for me because of the way that Dan loved me in a much richer way. I KNOW love, even when my person has passed from this life. This is an amazing miracle, possible through marriage.

I get it, not everyone is Catholic and not everybody believes in God. Got it. Then at least go to the courthouse and get the legal documentation that will protect you in the event that one of your passes unexpectedly. You have ZERO control over the end of your life. Do you really want your assets to be tied up in probate? or to go to your parents? or to your next of kin - and that person isn't the person you've lived with and loved - because you failed to give them the legal protection as your spouse?

We had been married five years. We had just changed jobs (well a year prior), and filling out that beneficiary paperwork is time-consuming, so we hadn't. However, since I was Dan's legal spouse, we didn't need it.

If you're going to buy a piece of property with someone, why are you dragging your feet to marry them?

I don't get it.

Now you have my opinion on the matter.

Let's resume keeping Kleenex in business.

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.

What Marriage Looks Like: The Importance of a Name

May was a big month. A lot of growth...a lot of pain to get to the breakthrough. But, I am going to write the posts, they are important steps in the journey. For those who are grieving, for those who will, maybe seeing the process will help you. AND, maybe acknowledging them will help me, too. :)

This journal entry is from 5/19.

Today on Facebook memories: "we were enroute to Tucson." 2010. 

That weekend we flew to Arizona to look for a place to live (for his new job as the UA Livestock Judging Coach). We stayed with Barb and Steve (my aunt and uncle) and borrowed their Prius. (which Dan was a little self-conscious about; he didn't want his new co-workers to think he was hippie, you know. But, he soon came to realize that it's Tucson. a) who cares? and b) everybody's a hippie. at least a little bit. :) 

We drove all around Tucson - to Harrison, on Grant, Tanque Verde, River Road. We at lunch at Sauce on Campbell. We learned about the wonder that is Eegee's fries (but I don't think I ever had any - ever). [it's amazing to go back into that memory - these streets that you experienced for the first time that then became so familiar, second-nature...home]

We drove up to the Catalinas to explore (that's one of the four mountain ranges surrounding Tucson for those who haven't been there). Dan kept commenting on how "wild" everything was.

And it was.

And it made me laugh to hear him say it, "wild" - with such...wonder.

I'm sure it was on that trip that it started to hit me that he'd be leaving me in two months. This man who had become such a staple in my life was moving to this wilderness...without me. How could I live without his presence?

It was on this trip that we came up with our nicknames for each other:

My Shining Steed.    

My Wilderness Companion.

It was while driving along the saguaro-studded hills of the road into the Catalinas.

We didn't want cutesy nicknames - we wanted words, names, that held meaning of who we are to the other - names of strength, endurance, respect, and fidelity. None of that "cupcake" and "pumpkin" crap. :)  For the etymology of our names:

Shining Steed: 

Steed:

Maybe it's weird that it's an animal and not a prince or a knight...but those terms (trust me, I considered them) felt false to me. Referring to Dan as a steed feels right - accurate:

A workhorse,

salt of the earth,

loyal, forever true, faithful - 

but still, wild - worthy of respect.

And Shining: 

because, to me, he is. My love. My light. My hope. Pure...purified by love, light, and the hope of us, wholly mine; shining: what we aspire to be.

Wilderness Companion:

Strength. 

Beauty.

Compassion.

Brave.

willing to walk beside, no matter the path - 

finding light, strength, beauty, and hope in the journey together.

Everything that I aspire to be...everything that I want people to see in me, captured in one name. Even now - especially now - I draw strength in my name, bestowed in love, by love, for love.

We referred to each other by our names frequently. The picture is of the envelope from my 5th anniversary card. Till the very end. Always. 

Always.