A Special Dream

I have waiting a while to share these journal entries with anyone outside of my family.

Some background:  On December 2, 2011, I had a dream in the early morning.  It was vivid.  I was deeply emotional after that, so I asked my dear friend Amanda to meet me for breakfast at the Sunflower Bakery in Galveston.  I briefly shared my dream with her, had a comforting chat, and then drove to Target.  On my way there, I called my mom to tell her about my dream.  I parked and wept over the phone with her.  She thanked me for sharing it with her, said "I love you," and then I went about my day.  I wrote the following journal entry that afternoon.

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***December 2, 2011

Sweet Brother,

     I had another dream early this morning while it was still dark.
     Outside, the family was having a cookout on a hill.  Mom and the girls were laughing at the picnic table.  This hill was steeply sloped and very green--like the shire in The Lord of the Rings.  Dad was grilling over an open flame while holding Logan in his other arm.  Then he said something to me about you that made me cry, and he was being pessimistic about life.  I turned away, not in the mood to listen to him at the time and that's when I saw you, because he chose to only see the regrets [content removed by me].
     I asked everyone, "Am I the only one having this vision?"  And I couldn't take my eyes off of you for fear of losing you.
     Hesitantly, I walked closer, and you to me.  You weren't very tall, and even some of your handsomeness was gone.  Your hair looked as it did when you were young,--like 10 or 12.
     Finally, you were close enough for me to hold you.  We slowly put our arms around each other.  You were shorter than me, but still only 2 years younger.  I put my face in your neck to smell you.  And slowly, firmly, I hugged you to me.
     Stroking you hair, I cried.
     Then I took you away from our family crowd.
     Sitting on the grass, which was cooling, and in the soothing breeze in the shade of trees, you pulled away from me silently, as if to say you must go.  So sadly and despairingly I said, "I just want you to know, our (mine and Austin's) children.." During that sentence, I blinked my eyes closed, and upon opening them, saw that you were gone.  Then I looked to the grass and noticed a photograph folded in half.  I picked it up, knowing you had left it for me and beheld the beautiful face of a 4-year-old girl.  She had a hear-shaped face, tanned skin, and long, wavy brown hair.
     In my own mind, I somehow knew she was my daughter.
     She was in your arms, the arms of her Uncle Jordan, laughing and leaning forward into the camera, with her soft locks falling forward, too.
     As I moved the photograph, the person holding her turned into Austin.
     Somehow, you had really held and played with her.--This child who had not even been born.  Then I knew--you know far more than I did, and you were content--because you had the knowledge of God [revealed to Jordan--fully knowing as he was then in Heaven].  And you were whole.  Looking back to the spot where you had disappeared, I saw you one last time.  You looked at peace.
     Because you had revealed something to me for comfort and hope.  Your eyes said, "Don't mourn for me..."***

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Having no idea that anything was really different about my body, I thought that night as I was going to bed, that I would take a pregnancy test just because of that strange dream I had.  I showered while waiting for the results.  Upon hopping out of the tub, and having no glasses on, I peered at that little joy stick and read the word, "Pregnant."  In complete disbelief, I ran to Austin in the living room, hardly breathing, and said, "Read that for me! What?!" 

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***February 26, 2012

The day of my previous journal entry, December 2, I found out later that evening that I AM pregnant.  It was one of the best days of my life.  That dream was strangely prophetic.  Love you. ***

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Then just months later, after having shared the beautiful dream with all the members of my family, and crying with them, Austin and I revealed the gender of our baby to family by hiding pink paraphernalia in a pinata.  As we broke it and the pink fluff and candy came pouring out, I turned to see each member of my beloved family in tears.  We all knew.  Thank you, Lord.  And Jordan has held her.

Another Grief Journal

Celebrations highlight your absence.

I don't know if that is because the last day I saw you alive was June 10, 2011.  Maybe it is.

These cycles--they come and go.  The knotted stomach, and then.  Tears.  Buckets of them.  Then the sore throat.  And then the sleep.

Graduations. Birthday. Holidays. Sundays.  Mondays.  Every day.

I miss you.

I love you every day.

And You Leave

I pull up Google.  Type in "Jordan Lee Isenhour."  I see the search results.  The pictures of his face from the obit.  Trying to convince myself this is real, I let a tear or two fall out of my left eye.  But then they stop falling.  There is some wall--a dam that holds them back until they create real pressure behind my eyeballs, and my nose, and forehead.  My throat burns--with that frustration and anger at something unchangeable.  Is this denial?  It feels like it.  But then someone in denial can't know what denial feels like. 

This is shock. 

Feeling lost, I put a "tear-jerker" on Spotify.  Today it is "Cathedrals" by Jump the Little Children.  I don't even know what the words mean.  But that doesn't matter.

At least fingers can type words when tears won't flow.

This isn't much.  But in a way it's more than enough.

You know that grief that makes your body feel defeat?  Yeah, that kind.  It weighs down the whole person.

I miss you. 

For a while I thought I would be ok.  I thought I was ready to still hurt every now and then, but that I could go on with a level of normal.

How stupid.

I'm not normal. 

Where are you right now?  What are you doing?  Please come over so we can watch dumb TV shows.  You were supposed to come visit me.  Before Brooke.  Before we moved.  We were going to go to the beach and sit on towel and talk.  And I was going to take you to get a blue coconut raspa from that Mexican restaurant that only takes cash. 

This isn't like a break-up.  This isn't like when a best friend moves away.  It isn't like being ill in a crippling way.

This is like a soul painted in a coat of tar.

This doesn't make sense any more.

But I miss you.  That's all that comes out.  And tonight I don't want to go to bed.  I will lie awake in the dark feeling haunted by your memory.

Somehow I knew that you would cause me some kind of impossible pain.

You did.

I forgive you, I think.

The only real solution: come back.

Close my eyes and place a small flower on your grave.  Sit down on the grassy caved-in earth.  Fall over and take a nap there.

Goodnight, brother.

Happy Four Years, Love

I didn't get Austin Miller a card. We had *agreed* to not get each other ANYTHING, but someone broke our agreement and spent a lot of money, so I can't exactly go out and get a gift at this point.  This is the best I can do:

I love all your quirks, habits, and hobbies. You've taught yourself to knit, pick locks, wear a baby, and to do countless other things that I watch you do in amazement.

Even though messes make me crazy, I treasure seeing the piles of stuff you leave around the house because you're creative and smart and it means I'm not living alone.

You've held me while I cry--hundreds of times--and let me fall asleep on your chest while you stroked my hair during the worst week of my life.  You massaged me and soothed me during the horrific pains of labor and cried when our baby was born.

You're quiet to the world, but talk so much at home. I get to enjoy the "real you." Just me. No one else.

You traveled around the world and stored up special gifts for me before we even met.  You've (literally) washed my feet with water and forgiven me for things for which I don't deserve forgiveness.

You faithfully take out the trash, change diapers, clean the juicer after each use, and never complain when I ask you to clean the shower drain so that I won't barf.

You massage me at night and when anxiety sets in. You've saved me from so many panic attacks.

You've driven me to the hospital and doctor more times than I can count, and have stayed up all hours of the night to help find a cures for my ailments.  You made me feel beautiful when I had to walk with a cane and felt like a broken spectacle of a human.

You held my hand and didn't leave my side even once during Jordan's funeral and viewing.

You've never complained about going to the store for my "feminine" needs and will even bring home additional surprises to cheer me "just because."

You're patient with me and so gentle.  You never raise your voice and always build me up.

I like to hear you sing in the shower and even when you do it out in the condo hallways.

I love that you hate sports, but will still wear a Cubs cap (with a Marc Jacobs t-shirt, Luchese boots, a UTMB class ring, silver necklace, J Crew jeans, a Louis Vuitton wallet, and Terre de Hermes cologne).

I love your obsession with kombucha and the making of craft beer.

It used to drive me crazy that you had to research anything and everything before putting a plan into action.  But now I appreciate it and find your extra careful self to be super valuable.

Thank you for unclogging the kitchen sink and cleaning up the mess created by my stupidity, thus preventing me the further embarrassment of having to admit what I did to our landlord (yes, I poured bacon grease down the sink..)

Thank you for that in-love look I get to witness every day when you look at Brooke.

You honor the elderly and attract them everywhere.  I think they can sense your beautiful soul.

You've helped bring healing to children in Guatemala and Christ to people in Uruguay.

You're so kind and respectful to my family as well, and have often been a peace maker.

You have poured so much into medical school. You're persistent and faithful, and you provide for us well. I never fear going hungry or having a roof over my head.

I love you and admire you.  You are my best of best friends--mi alma gemela.

With the deepest love possible!

~Me ❤

Raw

This will be simple. I think.

It's been, what? Two years since my last post? Who knows!

So much has happened during this time. I don't know why I quit blogging when I did, but a nail was put in that coffin when my baby brother died. Yep. The mother of all train stoppers in my life.

The tone of my blogging might be different now. I'm not sure. You be the judge.

I've never been so good at keeping up a blog. But a Facebook page? Now THAT I can do. Ha.

The Lord is good. I guess that's all that really matters.  Simultaneously coexisting with that is my anger. I am angry. (And how did I not mention that I'm a mom now??).

Oh, but the anger. In July it will have been two years since the anger inducing occurrence that forever changed my family and  rattled my core beliefs. My faith. All of it.

I wasn't mad. Not for the whole first year or so. But now? Now I am livid. I can't explain it. And I have friends who tell me to trust The Lord. Well I've done that, people. And let me tell you..trusting Him does not mean painlessness. I know I am to trust Him. I know that's what he requires. But you..you who dole out advice to the grieving..have you grieved? I don't mean over your great Aunt Sally that you saw once every two years. I mean have you lost your mother, father, brother, sister, spouse, or (GOD FORBID) your child?

No. No, you haven't.

And I am not bitter at you for this. I mean for you telling me how to think and feel. You simply cannot know any better. You just can't.

And I must ask, was your loss sudden? Unexpected? Difficult to explain? Mine is.

I have lost so much more than my brother. I have lost my parents. They buried parts of themselves with their son. It is a fact that no parent can deny.

And I feel fear. My maternal grandmother buried her youngest (my mom's youngest sister) who was 21 (right, mom?). I was 7 at the time. I remember scenes of it. The news. The funeral. The crying. Her ashen body in the casket and silken blackish hair. And that scarf around her neck.

Fast forward about 20 years. My mom buries her only son at the age of 22.

Call me irrational, but I cling to my child. I look up at God with anger and fear--and RAGE--and beg him..sometimes TELL him.."DO NOT TAKE MINE!"

But she is His. And I am His.

Why do I fear?

Well..

So perhaps this post isn't so simple. Writing these thoughts to you, dear reader, is a therapy for me. Do not follow me if you are unprepared for raw. For REAL. I won't sugar coat. At least not always. Or not usually. You'll see for yourself.

This is real life. This is not your materialistic fluffy blog.

I will try to honor Christ. Yes, I will try.

Pray for me.

This anger. It permeates all parts of my otherwise beautiful, whole, poetic life. It is a blessed life. An abundant life. But the purging is necessary. Lord, purge my wrath.

Selah.

How Shall I Then Show Him?

Hello Dear Wives!

Today I just want share encouragement to do something loving for your husband.  No matter how you feel or what your budget is, you can do something from this list. If you have any suggestions you'd like to share also, please post them in comments below!  Mine are not in order of importance:

1. Make a care package

Austin has done this for me, and I for him.  When I'm really stressed out, he might come home with my favorite snack from CVS, or a single rose (But don't have expectations!  They will fail you!).

So while I was out running errands this week, I realized I hadn't given him a gift in a while.  My package consisted of one of his favorite magazines, some power bars, energy drinks, Arnold Palmers, cheesy chips, and a kiss <3

Every man is different.  Think about his favorite little gadgets or other things--it could be gum, a cigar, a reading light, a pair of work gloves, or who knows.  Be creative!

2. Cook a man meal for him.  

Most men love meat!  But whatever his favorite is, surprise him with it.

3. Give him the gift of your silence. 

If there's something that you struggle with that is disrespectful, embarrassing, or annoying to him, try to break the habit.  And start by doing it for at least one day.

It could be biting your nails, talking too much when he just gets home from work, or maybe it's something you normally nag him about.  Whatever it is, find a verse that pertains to your struggle, hide it in your heart (memorize it!), and apply it to your life to stop sinning in that area and to enhance your marriage.

4.  If he slacks in an area that is generally his responsibility but he's extremely busy or tired, pick up the slack for him as his helper.

Maybe it's taking out the trash, paying a bill, or something to do with the kids.

5.  Apologize to him for something in which you failed to admit wrongdoing--however long ago it was.

If you spoke disrespectfully to him, had a bad attitude, or were lazy about something that matters to him--show him respect and humility and say you're sorry, asking for his forgiveness (and of course, try not to do it any more!).

6.  Surprise him in an intimate manner.  

I need to go no farther on this one ; )

7.  Pray with him.

Austin and I do this with each other daily, and it has been the single greatest factor in our unity so far.  Usually he leads us in prayer, but when he's worried about a test or he's wiped out from no sleep, I ask if I can pray for him and with him.  Pray for him to have peace, strength, wisdom, self-control, and success if it be God's will.

8.  Sacrifice a little.

Okay, so we're poor right now.  And most of us young spouses are.  So we don't always have the George Washingtons to eat out.

Sometimes when I plan a meal, we eat it faster than expected and that might leave us one evening with a less-than-desirable amount of leftovers.

Usually our men need more than us (and for those of us wanting to lose weight this is PERFECT!).  Give him some of your portion that you would normally eat.

Don't worry.  I'm pretty sure you won't starve to death in one day ; )

9.  Make yourself attractive to him.

Shower regularly.  Do your makeup the way he likes it (and ask a Mary Kay consultant to help you..aghem!).  Dress in a way that pleases him (within reason and not in a sinful way, of course).  Does he like you with or without perfume?  Ask him how he likes you to do your hair.

As Beth Moore once said, "Cover up!! But do it CUTELY!!"

10.   Save your best for him.

Save your best conversation, jokes, energy, time, and looks for him.  Even if he doesn't acknowledge it right away or ever--it will change things.  Scout's honor.

Now share your ideas!

Words You Can Taste

I've been referring to my college classes a lot lately, and that is because so many things about my faith have been tested through it.  If you've ever been to a secular college, or even a "Christian" one, you might quickly realize that most, if not all, professors deny the God of the Bible, or any god (little "g!") really.  In a science class at Angelo State in my freshman year, a professor laughed heartily as he recounted his most recent encounter with a Christian student who went to his office with some concerns.  The student was questioning some data the prof had given to us over the decreasing frequency of natural disasters worldwide (I have honestly not done my research in this area, so I couldn't tell you the truth about them..and this was 6 years ago).  He wanted to know about the Bible's vindication concerning Matthew 24:7, which says, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places."  But I think by mistake, the student asked about increasing frequency of tornadoes.  The professor, who didn't even know what the scripture reference said, just doubled over laughing in class as he ridiculed this student's question.  "Tornadoes?  Tornadoes?! Hahahaha...!! NO! The number of tornadoes has DECREASED over the last 100 years!! Oh my gosh...Christians..."  You cannot believe the adrenaline rush I had inside.  It took everything within me to not cry.  I looked over at my fellow classmates who were also Christians, and they were frozen solid, eyeballs about to pop out of their heads.  I sat there shaking, cold, angry, and hurt.


Six years later I'm back in school facing more frequent ridicule, and far more serious assaults on our holy God.  A "professing Christian" in a communications class authoritatively used the phrase "the myth of God."  And when I answered a question about perspectives, I used the first four gospels of the New Testament to explain the more complete picture created of Christ's life, but my professor ever-so-helpfully reminded me that "with religion, we are delving into tricky territory," because, you see, most of the world is not even Christian and of course, if you're a Christian, then of course the resurrection of Christ is absolute truth, but to most people it is not (this comment of hers had nothing to do with what I was talking about--the opportunity was used to ensure to the class that the gospels are not true--thankfully, no one responded to her comment).  My current class, "Mythology in Literature and Life," is even worse.  In both textbooks, all of Genesis and the first four gospels are unquestionably classified as myth.  I have to stomach reading the material to participate in informed discussions with my classmates, but I have already resolved to respectfully not acknowledge God, Jesus, or Scripture as "myth."


In dealing with such unbelievers and even misguided Christians, God has reminded me through His Word and other authors about the importance and necessity of seasoning my words with salt.  

"Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. " ~Colossians 4:6

So what does salt do? 


Well, I thought of a list (maybe you can come up with a better one):
Salt...
Makes food taste better
Raises your blood pressure if you consume too much
Often contains "iodide, an essential nutrient," so the containers always say
Makes slugs shrivel up and die
Is found in oceans, seas, and a few lakes around the world
Is used as a catalyst in chemistry sometimes
Is something humans can't survive completely without
Makes Utah pretty


So...
My words should be seasoned with enough salt to taste good to others, but I shouldn't pour on too much or they might spit it out (or die..*wink*).  I should use just enough of it to speak life-giving words to the spiritually dead.  And I should put enough into my conversation so that my words might be a catalyst for something good.  I should not try to witness to a slug.  And when I need more salt, I should take a swim in the Gulf or visit the great state of Utah.

When I was tempted to respond to my professor's claim about the falsehood of the Bible, I prayed fervently and asked Austin for advice.  I had so many things I could have said!  I could have talked about the accuracy of the passing down of scripture from generation to generation.  I could have discussed how, if that is true (and she did believe there were some likely factual events in Scripture--just not all of it), the disciples were either completely off their rockers or were so convinced through firsthand eye witness that Christ rose from the dead and still lives, for them to peacefully allow other people to end their own lives.  I could have talked about all of the extra-Biblical, archaeological, and logical evidence that exists for Christ and for the whole Word.  BUT, I took the advice of my husband and Scripture and followed the leading of God through prayer to not respond, because any response I had to give might come across as disrespectful and argumentative since my class can neither hear my voice, see my face, or observe how I live (my classes are online, by the way).


"When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise." ~Proverbs 10:19
"Wisdom is found on the lips of the discerning, but a rod is for the back of him who lacks judgment." ~Proverbs 10:13
"When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom." ~Proverbs 11:2
"The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice." ~Proverbs 12:15
"A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult." ~Proverbs 12:16
"A prudent man keeps his knowledge to himself, but the heart of a fool blurts out folly." ~Proverbs 12:23


[These are my memory verses for the week.  I realized how desperately I need to hide God's Word in my heart that I might not sin against Him! (see Psalm 119:11)]


But what if the time is right to say something in response?  After all, we are called to be bold in proclaiming the gospel of Christ.  Ephesians 6:19 says, "Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel.." And of course, there is Colossians 4:6 as stated above.  It is so terribly important that you and I be prepared to give an answer for the hope that lies within us.  First Peter 3:15 tells us, "But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.." Gentleness and respect.  Not out of anger or as a fool showing his "annoyance" at once.


Parents, are you thoroughly and daily equipping your children with the Word and wise counsel for the days they will encounter persecution and ridicule?  Are you teaching them to respond with gentleness and respect, seasoning their words with salt?

I don't have kids yet, and I am intimidated somewhat by training them up in the way they should go.  What if I set a bad example?  Oh, I do NOT want them to have my faults!! 

But I do want them to know the Bible and to know true love, that they might impart those things in the world when they go out into it.

~Grace and peace be with you~