Baseball Gloves and Jesus

I was getting ready for bed after a day at baseball camp during our mission trip to Germany.  As I contemplated the devotional I would give the following morning, an image of a baseball glove, with a baseball nestled snugly in the pocket, came into my mental view.  The Holy Spirit spoke to my heart, “You are hidden in Christ.”

This led me to Colossians 3:1-4

“Since then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”

What does it mean to be hidden in Christ?

This means that our identity and security are in Christ.  We don’t depend on the world to give us our identity.  But the world tries to tell us we can find our identity in other things, such as relationships, grades, achievements, and sports. Everyone is vulnerable to this, particularly children. Every day, we are bombarded with distorted messages about what is important in life.  

While we are hidden in Christ, our faith cannot be hidden.  We have to find entry points to share Christ with others.

Matthew 5:15-16 says, “Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

We are shining a bright light into the lives of others to draw them to Christ.

But Paul says to set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  It is easy to become distracted by life - by the game.  This is true for us all.

How do we avoid becoming distracted? We do this by remaining connected to Christ.  In John 15:5, Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

Remaining in him through this intentional time of devotion and prayer keeps us hidden in Him - focused and securely attached to the vine - much like the ball is securely held in the glove.   

We put him first - grounding our day in Christ.  I pray that this dedicated time of devotion will be something each of us continues well beyond our time together here.  This is the example we are setting for one another and staying hidden in Christ in this way will yield fruit as we keep the “first thing first.”  There is a song by that title, whose lyrics illustrate this beautifully:

        I don't wanna love what the world loves

        I don't wanna chase what the world does

        I only want you

        I only want you

        First thing's first

        I seek Your will

        Not my own

        Surrender all my wants to you

        Keep the first thing first

        To live Your truth

        Walk Your ways

        Set my eyes

        Lord I fix my face on you

        All my desires reversed

        To keep the first thing first

In John 15 goes on to say, “This is my command, that you love one another.”  We will love one another and all those we meet by…

1. Staying hidden in Christ - keeping our identity in Him.

2. Staying connected to the vine - keeping distractions away.

3. Keeping the first things first in our personal prayer life.

4. Letting the light and joy of God shine through us.

1 John 4:19 says, "We love because he first loved us." If we remain in him, we will then pour from a full cup. We will love others well with the love he has given us, and everyone is lifted up to Christ.

Learning, Growing, and Healing Through Peer Mentoring

When I was a teenager, I vividly recall a tense conversation with my mom in which I was no doubt being self-centered and selfish. While the full context has long left me, one thing she said still rings in my ears, “Audri, you need to get over yourself - not everything is about you.” But I was a strong, independent young woman determined to make my own way or, maybe in that moment, get my own way. 

Like most Americans, I valued independence. And while independence can drive motivation, there are times when it can turn to isolation. Grief is one such time when insisting on “going it alone” can set us up for more difficulties by isolating us from others who could bear witness to our lives, speak into our struggles with wisdom, and provide encouragement and a listening ear. It may go against our culture to embrace interdependence, but I’m convinced that we are truly stronger together.  

When my husband Jason died, I tried to hold it, contain it, control it - my grief, that is, and all the turmoil it was creating. The inner chaos was like a hurricane pounding at my soul. So overwhelming were the unrelenting waves of conflicting emotions and sheer exhaustion, that I couldn’t begin to express what felt at the time to be an undefinable anguish. How could I allow, much less invite someone into that storm? Frankly, it didn’t occur to me that it would even be appropriate to share, so I held it close. It was my own personal burden. Besides, who in their right mind wouldn’t run away if I told them what was really happening to me on the inside? It might even be described as a kind of premeditated guilt I felt as I even considered leaning on a friend or anyone else, so I didn’t.

Eventually, when the tears would not stop flowing and it felt like I would not survive, I reached a point of surrender and cried out to God, “Please take this away from me. I can’t do this anymore.” A peacefulness filled the room and I looked over at something my casualty officer had given me - a TAPS card with the Helpline number. Without even thinking about it, I dialed the number, and though I was numb, the words purged out of my mouth to Bonnie Carroll on the other end of the line. As we shared those painful moments and bonded over our widow stories, I began to see the value of the “we” as opposed to just the “me.” While I cannot recall all the things we both said, I do recall saying, “If nothing else good comes from Jason’s death, this will be a way I can relate to someone else in the future and help them - and that will just have to be good enough.”  

Even then, I was a Peer Mentor in the making, though it took a few years of being on the receiving end before I felt ready to let my story be in the background enough to support other survivors. I had to reach a point where my compassionate curiosity outweighed my need to process my own grief. Once I was ready, embracing becoming a Peer Mentor was an active and intentional choice. Supporting others with military loss was the way I chose to create meaning from Jason’s death.    

While I initially thought I would be helping others, I quickly realized how much being a Peer Mentor gave back to me - we call this “reciprocal peer support.” Because of my connection with Peer Mentors and others in the TAPS family over the years, I have gleaned three notable lessons about healing through grief.

1. Passive Healing: We sometimes need to choose stillness. We can’t control our grief any more than we can hold a storm in our hands. So rather than create more stress by actively resisting or stuffing it, we can try to relax into it or “make friends” with our grief.  

2. Active Healing: We sometimes need to move to think and heal. Being active requires our presence, participation, and commitment. Creating active distractions is a healthy tool we can use to combat unhealthy rumination.

3. Mindful Healing: Leaning into mindfulness - being intensely aware of what you're sensing and feeling in the moment, without interpretation or judgment - can help ground us when we are feeling out of control on the grief rollercoaster. This is especially helpful when we are feeling overwhelmed. Being grounded helps us reconnect with our mind and body and find more stable footing in the moment.

 

These lessons, and so many more, only came through engaging others as I explored the impact of Jason’s death. Loss, and having the support of a Peer Mentor as I navigated it, became a catalyst for change and growth. Learning about grief, and who I am in relation to it, will be a lifelong exercise. While I could have pushed on alone, reaching out to TAPS and receiving the compassionate support of Peer Mentors who knew how to meet me in my darkest moments has yielded wisdom, hope, and friendships I could never have imagined. TAPS allowed me to stop struggling against myself and relax into a community where I could learn to thrive again.

Over the years, my mom’s words have continued to ring true. While still certainly personal, in order to honor and remember Jason, I had to make my grief about more than just my own pain. Becoming a Peer Mentor opened the door for me to finding purpose in the pain. And there is a special kind of magic when you surround yourself with people leaning into their purpose.  

Peer mentoring is the perpetual gift that we give one another - the gift of grief companionship. TAPS will always need people like that who want to make a difference in another person’s life - and whether becoming or receiving a Peer Mentor - that person could be you.

Continuing the Legacy of Love

You may have heard it said that to love someone means to forever have a piece of your heart existing outside of your body. When that person dies, it can naturally leave us feeling a lack of wholeness. That hole in our hearts calls out to us and can only be occupied by the person who created it because it is shaped just like him or her. Honoring the love and life that created this space in your heart doesn't mean trying to fill it with other things. Our loved ones can still live on in that space, albeit in ways that are different than before.

Frequently, others tell us that we need to “let go”, sometimes making statements like, “Aren’t you over that yet?” Getting over the loss of someone so central to our existence is simply not realistic. They are inextricably linked to us - past, present… and, future. 

Within the TAPS family, we have always leaned into continuing bonds - acknowledging that while our loved ones are physically absent, they continue to be a powerful part of our daily lives, along with an enduring part of who we are and who we are becoming. It is in this spirit that we strive to know them in a new way and be their footsteps in the world. We are their legacy of love, even if the love we shared was complicated, as love frequently is.

It may sometimes feel scary when we let ourselves feel that love, as the pain can penetrate so deeply that it may seem hard to cope. TAPS founder and president Bonnie Carroll is often quoted as saying, “We only grieve because we love.” Special days such as birthdays, anniversaries, and Valentine’s Day can feel especially difficult, yet they provide natural opportunities to maintain a bond with our person through intentional acts of connection. Whether a special day or every day, we can reinforce this relationship in healthy ways.

What it means to carry on a relationship with a loved one who has died can (and should) look different from person to person, as we all have a unique bond and experiences with our loved one. Much like snowflakes, no two relationships are alike. 

WAYS TO REMAIN CONNECTED TO YOUR LOVED ONE

There are many ways to approach remaining connected with that person you loved so dearly… and always will.  We share a few of those for helpful consideration below.

- Seek out others who knew your loved one and would like to share the stories of who they knew them to be.

- Display a favorite picture, artwork, or quote loved by your person. 

- Volunteer for a cause that was close to their hearts and commit your time in their name.

- Engage in an activity your person loved or finish a project they started.

- Wear a favorite item of their clothing or a piece of jewelry that holds special significance.

- Make their favorite meal or eat at your loved one’s favorite restaurant.

- Write them a letter to share about recent events and how they were remembered or their presence was felt.

- Use pieces of your loved one’s clothing to have a special item created (quilt, bag, doll, etc.). 

- Find ways to say their name and bring them present into your day.     

- Establish a new tradition with your person in mind.

- Create a peaceful outdoor space where you can go to process your thoughts and even speak thoughts out loud to your person.

- Build a memory container to hold special items and plan time to visit those memories.

- Schedule time to connect with memories around your loved one. It is helpful to schedule a follow-on activity, as well, to help you transition out of memory mode to the next thing you will do to step forward in your day.

- Live our best lives in tribute to them.

Giving ourselves the freedom to show love for our person in new ways can keep them close to us, helping us remember and honor everything that made them the incredible people we have known. They are part of the fabric of our being, intricately woven into the beautiful and complex tapestry of who we are. They lived remarkable lives, left indelible marks on those who loved them, and will live on through each of us as we remember and continue to embrace them.

LOVE LIVES ON.

Falling in Love with Karate

Wado Ryu Karate is a journey I started back in 2007 while living in Yokohama, Japan.  My son was 8 years old and I was looking for a physical activity for him to get him moving and active.  There was an advertisement on the Navy base for a karate class, so I decided to go check it out.  I expected to enroll him in the class and let the shuttling commence.  To my surprise, I found there was only one student.  My son joined the class and the sensei invited me to join them as well.  I "tried out" the class and found I really enjoyed it.  Being there to encourage my son was awesome and it felt like something we could grow in together.

The man who taught our class was Sensei Obuaki Ohta.  Ohta-sensei was only about as tall as me and was probably 55-65 years old.  He only spoke basic English terms, most of which were limited to "kick" and "punch."  He would model the kata movements and I would follow after him.  I spoke some Japanese and was able to ask him if I was doing it okay.  Invariably, I was certainly not doing it okay.  He would come over and move my arm, push me into a deeper stance, or adjust my hand or foot placement.  

One day, Ohta-sensei watched me run through my kata and he made a correction to one part.  Focusing intently on that one correction, I tried again.  When I got through, I had corrected that deficiency, only to have him come to me and slightly adjust my thumb.  At that moment, I realized I would never arrive.  Suddenly it became clear to me how a person could work their whole lives to perfect their craft and never fully master it.  This commitment to craft and perfection approached with humility, reached deep into my soul.  

I felt an intense connection and respect for my sensei.  Attending class excited me and I pushed myself.  He invited me to test on two occasions during my time in Japan.  Both times, my son and I were the only non-Japanese people in the whole auditorium.  We were not fluent, so we depended on non-verbal cues and our limited Japanese skills to follow the flow of the students and the guidance of the judges.  We were thrilled to be a part of the culture, both of the country and the sport.  

Unfortunately, our time was too short.  When I was 8 weeks pregnant with my twins, I took my 2nd test but was not allowed to spare for obvious reasons.  By 10 weeks, I had to stop my karate lessons and wound up moving to Okinawa to be near the neonatal intensive care unit in case I had pregnancy complications.  Leaving my training behind was difficult and I longed to return.  Trying to juggle the demands of twins, homeschooling my then 10-year-old son, caring for three dogs, and dealing with everything while my husband was deployed left little time for karate, so I wound up not returning to my beloved sensei and the sport I loved so well.  When the twins were 7 years old, we wound up moving back to the United States.

Back in North Carolina, I searched for a dojo in the Wado style, with no success.  There simply was no option anywhere near us.  I considered another school of karate and opted not to pursue that.  My heart was with Wado.  Children, family life, homeschooling, graduate school, and military retirement kept me busy.  Eventually, I became a working mom as well.  Like this, life continued, and ultimately we relocated back to Texas to finally be closer to family after 25 years away.  

Landing in Dallas, Texas, with twins who were now 9 years old, I began to wonder if we might be lucky enough that there would be a dojo near us that taught Wado.  A quick Google search revealed the Academy of Classical Karate in Plano.  With tremendous excitement, I dove into their website and made a plan to visit. 

Walking into the dojo felt a bit like going home.  I was beyond excited and as I stepped into the class, I felt some muscle memory dusting off the cobwebs.  Because the kids were in the youth class, I was able to join the parents' class and wound up surrounded by others who were equally invested in their kids and karate.  These were not your run-of-the-mill parents.  I had not trained with others my age and it was thrilling to be a part of a larger training group, though I honestly had no real idea of what I was getting us into.

Our dojo is the best dojo in the United States.  I didn't know it at the time but two of the twins' instructors were soon to be members of the first USA Olympic Karate Team.  From the excellence in athletes that the dojo produces, to the world-class coaches, to the opportunity to be a part of the WIKF Texas team, our dojo is firing on all cylinders.  All of this said, what speaks to me most is how committed the coaches are to developing athletes of character.  

The Academy of Classical Karate has 5 Traits of a Karate-ka: Humility, Integrity, Self-Control, Courage, and Courtesy.  I'm so grateful to have others reinforcing this in our kids as well.  We used to stop at the dojo door after every class and I would make the kids recite these principles before leaving for the day.  These are excellent concepts I know will continue to grow in them as they train and deepen their love of both karate and their dojo family.  Many of the people who have been training here have invested 20-25 years of their lives doing so.  The roots go deep and the branches are broad.  I'm thrilled to be a small part of such an incredible group of people.

Finding Hope in 2021

Rolling into a New Year tends to stir a heart to contemplate new beginnings. We consider all the history of our past year and ponder what lay ahead. The last year has certainly been a difficult challenge for us all and we look forward to better times. Before we move too quickly into the New Year, it's important to consider one lesson isolation taught us in 2020 - we need each other.

The TAPS family has always said “we are stronger together” and it is true.  Going it alone at the most difficult times of our lives puts more strain on us, robbing us of encouragement that could soften the journey.  We draw strength from one another, sharing the burdens of our hearts, and in doing so, begin to believe we can make it through - and hope is born.  

We begin to expect with confidence that our days will get easier, in part because we see others overcoming similar circumstances and they are still standing and striving.  That model of survival and resiliency is at the heart of TAPS.  It is a gift that we receive and what we each hope to someday give away - the belief that we each will endure.  

Hope is powerful and reciprocal.  We receive it and we ultimately reach a point where we can give it as well. Often these are happening at the same time as we grow in relationship with one another.  When you are down in the throes of grief, there is no better person to have as your company than someone who has also navigated these paths.  This is true in life and in loss.  TAPS Peer Mentors offer you the healing hand of friendship, bearing witness and encouraging you along the way. And they receive a beautiful gift in return, as we search for meaning after loss and often find purpose through lifting others up.    

As you move into 2021, know that sharing your story and your struggles allows others to join with you in a way that deepens our bonds as a family of survivors.  Perhaps you are new to your loss and would like companionship to keep you company as you heal. 

Maybe you are feeling stronger now and are ready to “pay it forward” by supporting another person with the same support you have received.   

Wherever you find yourself at this moment, you are a vital part of the TAPS family and we invite you to connect with us in a deeper way in the new year.  Together we will step into 2021, keeping hope alive.

She Scratched Me!

Just a moment ago, my husband and I heard a rather blood-curdling scream coming from our 3 year-old twins' bedroom.  They were supposed to be going to sleep.  Daddy ran up the stairs and burst into the room in time to hear our son say, "She scratched me!"

My husband looked at our daughter, whose bed is across the room from her brother's, and said, "How did you scratch him from your bed?"

Our daughter didn't skip a beat when she very confusedly said, "I didn't scratch him with my bed."

I love my kids' language skills!    

Cornyhorn

The twins were lying down to take their naps when there was a brief discussion about a pink pony one of them received for Christmas.  My son was feeling sad and I held the pink pony up to his face and pretended it was licking him.  He began to feel better, so I turned my attention to my daughter.  As I was tucking her in, she said, "Mama, I thought it was a cornyhorn."  I chuckled and smiled so big that I nearly teared up.  She did the same and I gave her sugars.  I said, "Do you mean unicorn?"  We chuckled together for a few moments and the moment passed.  I don't know how many more of those I have, but I don't want to miss any of them.   

Preparing for IVF: 16 Days and Counting

We are starting the IVF process again to try and have a sibling for my niece.  It worked out so beautifully the first time.  God truly blessed my sister and brother-in-law with a beautiful little girl inside and out.  She's such a happy girl.  I'm going to do my best to document the process, hopefully even better than I did the last time.

About two weeks ago, I began birth control pills (Reclipsen) so that I would have a period and the clinic could put me on a proper medication schedule.  After nine days, I developed a severe headache and nausea related to the Reclipsen and our doctor took me off the meds.  The clinic told me to inform them if I had a bleed anytime within the following week.  Turns out we didn't wait long - two days later I started my period.  That was three days ago.

After starting my period, I began applying estrogen patches to my abdomen, which have to be changed every other day.  The patches will increase in number over the next two weeks as we near the transfer date, but I will need to use them for a total of 64 days.  The transfer is 16 days from now and counting.

We aren't just counting the days down - there is much to do!  My sister is working on all the legal details and travel plans.  She is preparing all the paperwork the Jones Institute requires to do the IVF: contract, consent forms, etc.  It is quite a process.  She and my brother-in-law, and my husband and I all have to be HIV-tested as well.  Though we haven't had to go through a psychological evaluation this time around, the first time before becoming pregnant with my niece, we all had to sit down together and interview with a psychologist, who then had to send a psychological fitness report to the clinic.  Thankfully, the whole process this time is easier, especially since we no longer live in the Norfolk area where the clinic is located.

With homeschooling the kids, my husband in school and working, and me also in school, the time is sure to fly by.  I hope to still have plenty of time to share meaningful moments, details of IVF surrogacy, and any challenges along the way. 

Toddler Epiphanies

Lisse says to Daddy.
"Daddy, I have a idea!"
Daddy, totally riveted, waits for an impressive piece of knowledge.
Lisse. . . "Your head belongs to your face!"

Sometime later. . .
Lisse runs face first into the hutch.
"Ouch!"  (Rubbing her head.)  "Daddy, I keep getting owies!"
Daddy. . . "Well, your head belongs to your face."

I will never get tired of observing 3 year-olds using language.  LOL

Late Night Sugars

I have to admit that once the kids go to bed at night I really enjoy having time to myself.  Invariably though, the quiet never lasts for long as I hear the creak of the floor and the pitter-patter of little feet on the ceiling.  There have been too many times I've hollered up the stairs, "Get in your bed!"  Not long ago, I decided to stop whatever was so important (dishes, e-mail, laundry, movie watching, etc.) and trudge back up the stairs to address why they were yet again out of their beds after lights out.  Tonight was one such occasion, and here is how it went. . .

Pitter-patter, creak, creak. . . up the stairs, I'm barely in the door of their mostly dark room and I hear a little voice softly say, "Hi, Mama."  I knelt by his bed and as he lay back on his pillow, he said, "I check Sissa and she is sleeping."

"Why did you need to check Sissa," I asked?

"I need sugars."

"Oh, okay."  He swung his little feet to the floor and crept over to her bed.  I rested my hand on her in the dark and could feel him reach down with his little hands to find her face.  The slightest smack of his lips was all I could hear as he gently gave her sugars on her left cheek before climbing back into his bed.

I leaned over and held him in an easy hug, whispering in his ear how much I love him.  "Can I give you sugars, Bubba?"

"Yes."

"Can you go night night now?"

"Yes."

Moments later I am now back at my computer and the house is calm and quiet again.  For now they may argue and fight over this toy or that or disagree feverishly about whether or not to watch Dora or Octonauts, but one day I will share this story with his sister and she will know how much he has always loved her.  And never again will I pass up an opportunity to share those late night moments with my kids.  These days will too soon pass.