Today is "Wading through the Waters" one year birthday!
I can't believe it has been a year since I began this blog. A year since I've lived in Kentucky. What has happened this year?
Just a few things:
- coconut attack and ensuing hospitalization/dialysis
- malaria relapse
- ICE STORM
- car broken into (twice)
- lots of vacuuming (my job)
- first year of seminary completed (amazingly)
- new job leading the Emerge ministry here in Lexington
- new home
- hundreds of new friends
- a new appreciation for and use of Skype
- hours upon hours of prayer
- a few road trips
- possibility of eye cancer (still pending)
- a few house-sitting gigs
- my grandmother passed away
- several weddings
- a new nephew
- still single
In conclusion, I'm a changed man.
This blog hasn't been everything that I thought it would be. Still, it has helped me in more ways that I could have initially thought possible. My creativity continues to expand. My connection with many of you is strengthened through it. It serves as a canvas for random thoughts that I need to empty from my mind. It serves as a canvas for random emotions that I need to empty from my heart. It serves as yet one more waste of your precious time.
For all of these reasons, and many more, Happy Birthday, BLOG!!!
May your second year be just as eventful, more productive, and more effective.
Thanks.
August 31, 2009
August 27, 2009
the more things change...
...the more they stay the same. Ever heard that phrase? What does it even mean?
When I went home a few weeks ago for my grandmother's funeral, I obviously got to see some of my family and family friends that I haven't seen in several years. It was amazing. Some of them looked exactly the same (insert name: Dennis Heinen). However, others had changed so much that I no longer recognized them.
Most notably were some of my cousins' kids. These are kids that I remember holding as infants and watching them grow. Yet, they are now in middle and high school. It's one of those, "I can't believe this," moments. I didn't think about this too much, as there were obviously other things to occupy my mind. But I have reflected on it somewhat the past few days. The more things change, the more they stay the same? I don't think so.
Each time I return home and have some of those experiences, I believe this phrase less and less. Things change drastically. Life changes. Relationships change. People change. And praise God for that. We are constantly called to be transformed into the likeness of Christ. This inherently necessitates change.
I also thought about how much more shocking the change appears to me, someone who hasn't lived at home for years and who sees some of my family only once, or less, a year as compared to others who live there and see one another much more frequently. To them, the progression seems natural. It is expected. When you see someone regularly, you don't even think about how much the other person has changed because it happens right in front of your eyes on a daily basis. This doesn't mean the change is any less drastic. However, it doesn't appear to be anything but normal.
Granted, the most notable surprises to me were some of the kids and teenagers and how much they have changed. And those differences encompass both their physical form and their personalities.
I also realize that my shock is not only due to how people have grown, but it is also due to how I have changed. My perspective changes and thus I will naturally see people a bit differently than I had before.
How does this work between us and God? Has it been so long since you've seen God that when you meet Him again you are amazed at how different your relationship is than the last time you remembered it? Or do you not even realize how much has changed over the years because it has happened right in front of your eyes on a daily basis?
Do you "live at home" with God and see the natural progression of your faith and the faith of those around you develop through time? Or does it require you "going home" on that special occasion to realize how much time has passed since you last saw or knew Him? While I know that I am where I am supposed to be right now, living in Kentucky and going to seminary, it is hard for me to go home because I realize how much life has taken place during my absence. The nephews and niece are completely different. Family members are so different than what I remember. Yet, to everyone else there who see each other regularly, everything seems normal.
As difficult as that is for me, I know I can live with it and hope that my family can as well. However, I hope that never happens between me and the Lord. Nor between my family and the Lord. Nor between you and the Lord.
How much have I changed? When someone sees me, do they find the same person they last knew a few years ago? Or do they find someone who has matured, grown, and been transformed more and more into Christlikeness?
What about you? How much have you changed?
May you be able to say, "The more things change, the more we look like Jesus."
When I went home a few weeks ago for my grandmother's funeral, I obviously got to see some of my family and family friends that I haven't seen in several years. It was amazing. Some of them looked exactly the same (insert name: Dennis Heinen). However, others had changed so much that I no longer recognized them.
Most notably were some of my cousins' kids. These are kids that I remember holding as infants and watching them grow. Yet, they are now in middle and high school. It's one of those, "I can't believe this," moments. I didn't think about this too much, as there were obviously other things to occupy my mind. But I have reflected on it somewhat the past few days. The more things change, the more they stay the same? I don't think so.
Each time I return home and have some of those experiences, I believe this phrase less and less. Things change drastically. Life changes. Relationships change. People change. And praise God for that. We are constantly called to be transformed into the likeness of Christ. This inherently necessitates change.
I also thought about how much more shocking the change appears to me, someone who hasn't lived at home for years and who sees some of my family only once, or less, a year as compared to others who live there and see one another much more frequently. To them, the progression seems natural. It is expected. When you see someone regularly, you don't even think about how much the other person has changed because it happens right in front of your eyes on a daily basis. This doesn't mean the change is any less drastic. However, it doesn't appear to be anything but normal.
Granted, the most notable surprises to me were some of the kids and teenagers and how much they have changed. And those differences encompass both their physical form and their personalities.
I also realize that my shock is not only due to how people have grown, but it is also due to how I have changed. My perspective changes and thus I will naturally see people a bit differently than I had before.
How does this work between us and God? Has it been so long since you've seen God that when you meet Him again you are amazed at how different your relationship is than the last time you remembered it? Or do you not even realize how much has changed over the years because it has happened right in front of your eyes on a daily basis?
Do you "live at home" with God and see the natural progression of your faith and the faith of those around you develop through time? Or does it require you "going home" on that special occasion to realize how much time has passed since you last saw or knew Him? While I know that I am where I am supposed to be right now, living in Kentucky and going to seminary, it is hard for me to go home because I realize how much life has taken place during my absence. The nephews and niece are completely different. Family members are so different than what I remember. Yet, to everyone else there who see each other regularly, everything seems normal.
As difficult as that is for me, I know I can live with it and hope that my family can as well. However, I hope that never happens between me and the Lord. Nor between my family and the Lord. Nor between you and the Lord.
How much have I changed? When someone sees me, do they find the same person they last knew a few years ago? Or do they find someone who has matured, grown, and been transformed more and more into Christlikeness?
What about you? How much have you changed?
May you be able to say, "The more things change, the more we look like Jesus."
August 24, 2009
yes i have
I started this blog almost a year ago to help express myself: to be a canvas on which I could share my thoughts, figure out my feelings, update friends and family about my life, and just empty some things out of my heart and mind.
However, I'm not the most creative or expressive person in the world. And sometimes in life, there just aren't words. Thus, I won't attempt to express myself now. I will allow this song to do it for me. Even it's not perfect, but it comes close. My life right now seems to be found somewhere in the middle of this song, somewhere between the wanting and the finding.
May you want as well. There's much to be received.
However, I'm not the most creative or expressive person in the world. And sometimes in life, there just aren't words. Thus, I won't attempt to express myself now. I will allow this song to do it for me. Even it's not perfect, but it comes close. My life right now seems to be found somewhere in the middle of this song, somewhere between the wanting and the finding.
May you want as well. There's much to be received.
August 13, 2009
Farewell
As some of you already know, my grandmother passed away last weekend. I flew home this week for her funeral and just returned to Kentucky tonight. I was asked to speak at her funeral, and for whatever reason, I just feel like sharing with you some of what I shared at her funeral. This will be a long post, so I will not include everything. But for what it's worth, here are some thoughts that have gotten me through this week:
A few weeks ago, I was sitting at home sewing a button back onto a pair of my pants. As I sat there, I thought about Mamal and started laughing. I could hear her telling me, “Jeffrey, you’re going to make someone a good wife one day.” She always picked on me about how Mama had taught not only Shae and Elizabeth, but also me the basics of cooking, cleaning, doing laundry and even how to sew on buttons. I think the first time I ever heard her say that, I was a little offended. But I quickly began to realize how it was actually an incredible compliment.
On Saturday night, I finally sat down and stopped for a few moments. After getting the phone call that morning that Mamal had passed, I had worked all day, tried to make arrangements to fly home and have everything lined up while I was gone. And then a friend called to see how I was doing and she asked me, “what is your greatest memory of your grandmother?” Well, that sent my mind racing through a thousand memories. My first thought was about her cornbread and how no one could ever make it like hers. I thought about standing in her kitchen in Garden city where she would walk up to us with a butter knife in her hand and flip it around at the last minute as she poked it as us to scare us while she made that distinguishable little popping sound with her mouth.
I thought about sitting outside under the carport shucking corn with her or shelling butter beans. I thought about listening to her stories of the times she had gone fishing with her friends and brothers. I think one of my favorite stories that I heard her share multiple times was how when she was younger, and Uncle Fred was still a baby, and she was given the responsibility to watch him. But she wanted to go play with Uncle Henry and Uncle Pee Wee so she would pinch Uncle Fred, make him cry, and then take him back to her mom and tell her that she couldn’t make him stop crying. Then she got to go hang out with the “older kids.” I still can’t imagine her doing that.
I thought about how she would cringe if you got anywhere close to her feet and about her sitting in her chair with one leg propped over the arm rest. I remembered her sitting at the table on a Sunday afternoon to play Scrabble. I thought about the oil lamp in her living room that we would always get in trouble for touching or the old glider swing that was always in her back yard.
I have been very blessed in my life to have known my grandparents. But more than just knowing her, I got to spend several hours with her on a daily basis during a very impressionable time in my life. Middle and High school are very interesting years and I could never have guessed how influential the time was that I got to spend with her. Everyday after school, Elizabeth and I would go over and hang out with her for a little while. And when Elizabeth started working after school and when she had started college, it was just me and Mamal. I honestly believe that it was those afternoons spent together that I learned the value of a quality conversation with someone, regardless of how much talking was being done. I would eat my snack, she would listen, not watch, just listen to “As the World Turns” as she finished a crossword puzzle, and we would have a great time. She would make me laugh, share her stories with me, and ask me questions about how I was doing. It was almost always about me. That seemed so natural for her. To be focused on other people.
One of my favorite quotes says, “Every adult needs a child to teach, for that is the way in which adults learn.” As that’s true, Mamal must have been one of the most intelligent and wisest people on the planet. How many kids has she loved on in her life? Last night Lucas woke up crying and since I was sleeping closer to where he was, I got up to get him. As I sat in the rocking chair trying to put him back to sleep, I thought to myself, “I wonder how many times Mamal has done this?” I simply couldn’t begin to guess.
After I had moved away for college, Mama told me on the phone one day that Mamal was moving. I remember being upset, b/c I knew that meant she wouldn’t be there when I came home to visit. And I believe it was at that moment that I realized that Mamal was much more than my grandmother, she was my friend. The next summer I was more than excited to drive myself to Blackshear to visit her for the weekend. I’ll always remember that visit, the great time we had together, and how I got some more cornbread.
There is one thing about Mamal that really sticks out to me. I’m sure that everyone in this room knows how much she loved the Lord. I remember how amazed I was as a kid when she told me that she had read all the way through the Bible, multiple times. I had never heard of anyone who had done that before. Still, the greatest quality about Mamal being a Christian was that she never had to say it. She simply lived it. To be a Christian, is somewhat simple terms, means to be a representation of the character of God to the world. That’s what Mamal did. To her brothers, her kids, her grandkids, every child she kept at daycare, all of her friends, and most definitely to me she was an example of the character of God here on this earth.
We are reminded in 1 Peter 2 that we are not citizens of this earth, but we are citizens of His kingdom. We are only sojourners, or travelers on this earth. This earth isn’t our home. It is just what we walk through, obediently, humbly, and selflessly, knowing that the fullness of His kingdom is still to come. We are only passing through. Knowing what I know now, I can look back on at least the part of her life for which I was around and say that Mamal lived her life knowing that she didn’t have to worry about life here, because she was simply on her way home. I’m sure that she never thought when she was younger that she would spend the last 31 years of her life walking home without Papa, yet she faithfully kept walking and she is now home. And because of that, I have comfort today.
My comfort isn’t because I believe she is reunited with Papa. My comfort is in the reality that she is in heaven. And heaven, simply put, is the full, unhindered, all encompassing presence of God. She is hanging out with the creator of the universe. She is overwhelmed by the beauty, the splendor, and the majesty of God and the fullness of His peace; that peace which passes all understanding. The one who created her, who saved her, who loved her, and who finally got her home, is now the one she gets to look upon for all of eternity, with absolutely nothing getting in her way.
In the gospel of John, we read about Jesus being the bridegroom and John simply being the friend of the bridegroom. And then John says, in verse 29, after having heard Jesus speak, “the friend of the bridegroom rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of mine in now complete.” Mamal can now stand in the full presence of the bridegroom, Jesus Christ, hear his voice more clearly than she could have ever imagined, and have true and complete joy.
What a blessing. To spend 88 years walking home. Along the way, helping everyone you pass and loving your family so selflessly and unconditionally, to finally stand before Jesus Christ in awe of his beauty and love and to truly have complete joy.
I want to share one final thought. To the question that my friend asked me on Saturday night about what was my greatest memory of Mamal, my answer was simply, “her.” My greatest memory of Mamal is simply who she was. Her personality, her smile, her humor, and her heart.
A few years ago, I was sitting with a small group of people when the question was raised, “if you could have dinner with anyone who is already gone whom you never got to meet, who would it be?” Without hesitation, I knew my answer. It was Papa. I spent all of my life hearing about the “Bossman” and wondering what it would have been like to know him in person. Yet, I’ll never have that opportunity. I’ll only have the stories, pictures and the legacy that he left behind.
For the past ten years or so, I’ve regularly told my parents that the one thing I hoped for was that one day, whoever she was and whenever I’d meet her, I really wanted my wife to be able to meet Mamal. And I wanted Mamal to be able to meet her. I wanted her to have the priviledge of knowing one of my favorite people in the world. And now, that will never happen. But one thing I can promise. Whenever I do meet her, she will hear so much about Mamal that if she is ever asked the question of who is the one person she would choose to have dinner with that she never got to meet, her answer will be Mamal.
With all of you here today, I say good-bye to Mamal. I say farewell to the Bosslady. And in her honor and per her example, may we all continue our walk home, as travelers here on the earth, loving and helping everyone we find along the way, until one day we see His beauty and find complete joy in hearing the voice of the bridegroom.
I love you Mamal. Thank you for sharing your life with me.
A few weeks ago, I was sitting at home sewing a button back onto a pair of my pants. As I sat there, I thought about Mamal and started laughing. I could hear her telling me, “Jeffrey, you’re going to make someone a good wife one day.” She always picked on me about how Mama had taught not only Shae and Elizabeth, but also me the basics of cooking, cleaning, doing laundry and even how to sew on buttons. I think the first time I ever heard her say that, I was a little offended. But I quickly began to realize how it was actually an incredible compliment.
On Saturday night, I finally sat down and stopped for a few moments. After getting the phone call that morning that Mamal had passed, I had worked all day, tried to make arrangements to fly home and have everything lined up while I was gone. And then a friend called to see how I was doing and she asked me, “what is your greatest memory of your grandmother?” Well, that sent my mind racing through a thousand memories. My first thought was about her cornbread and how no one could ever make it like hers. I thought about standing in her kitchen in Garden city where she would walk up to us with a butter knife in her hand and flip it around at the last minute as she poked it as us to scare us while she made that distinguishable little popping sound with her mouth.
I thought about sitting outside under the carport shucking corn with her or shelling butter beans. I thought about listening to her stories of the times she had gone fishing with her friends and brothers. I think one of my favorite stories that I heard her share multiple times was how when she was younger, and Uncle Fred was still a baby, and she was given the responsibility to watch him. But she wanted to go play with Uncle Henry and Uncle Pee Wee so she would pinch Uncle Fred, make him cry, and then take him back to her mom and tell her that she couldn’t make him stop crying. Then she got to go hang out with the “older kids.” I still can’t imagine her doing that.
I thought about how she would cringe if you got anywhere close to her feet and about her sitting in her chair with one leg propped over the arm rest. I remembered her sitting at the table on a Sunday afternoon to play Scrabble. I thought about the oil lamp in her living room that we would always get in trouble for touching or the old glider swing that was always in her back yard.
I have been very blessed in my life to have known my grandparents. But more than just knowing her, I got to spend several hours with her on a daily basis during a very impressionable time in my life. Middle and High school are very interesting years and I could never have guessed how influential the time was that I got to spend with her. Everyday after school, Elizabeth and I would go over and hang out with her for a little while. And when Elizabeth started working after school and when she had started college, it was just me and Mamal. I honestly believe that it was those afternoons spent together that I learned the value of a quality conversation with someone, regardless of how much talking was being done. I would eat my snack, she would listen, not watch, just listen to “As the World Turns” as she finished a crossword puzzle, and we would have a great time. She would make me laugh, share her stories with me, and ask me questions about how I was doing. It was almost always about me. That seemed so natural for her. To be focused on other people.
One of my favorite quotes says, “Every adult needs a child to teach, for that is the way in which adults learn.” As that’s true, Mamal must have been one of the most intelligent and wisest people on the planet. How many kids has she loved on in her life? Last night Lucas woke up crying and since I was sleeping closer to where he was, I got up to get him. As I sat in the rocking chair trying to put him back to sleep, I thought to myself, “I wonder how many times Mamal has done this?” I simply couldn’t begin to guess.
After I had moved away for college, Mama told me on the phone one day that Mamal was moving. I remember being upset, b/c I knew that meant she wouldn’t be there when I came home to visit. And I believe it was at that moment that I realized that Mamal was much more than my grandmother, she was my friend. The next summer I was more than excited to drive myself to Blackshear to visit her for the weekend. I’ll always remember that visit, the great time we had together, and how I got some more cornbread.
There is one thing about Mamal that really sticks out to me. I’m sure that everyone in this room knows how much she loved the Lord. I remember how amazed I was as a kid when she told me that she had read all the way through the Bible, multiple times. I had never heard of anyone who had done that before. Still, the greatest quality about Mamal being a Christian was that she never had to say it. She simply lived it. To be a Christian, is somewhat simple terms, means to be a representation of the character of God to the world. That’s what Mamal did. To her brothers, her kids, her grandkids, every child she kept at daycare, all of her friends, and most definitely to me she was an example of the character of God here on this earth.
We are reminded in 1 Peter 2 that we are not citizens of this earth, but we are citizens of His kingdom. We are only sojourners, or travelers on this earth. This earth isn’t our home. It is just what we walk through, obediently, humbly, and selflessly, knowing that the fullness of His kingdom is still to come. We are only passing through. Knowing what I know now, I can look back on at least the part of her life for which I was around and say that Mamal lived her life knowing that she didn’t have to worry about life here, because she was simply on her way home. I’m sure that she never thought when she was younger that she would spend the last 31 years of her life walking home without Papa, yet she faithfully kept walking and she is now home. And because of that, I have comfort today.
My comfort isn’t because I believe she is reunited with Papa. My comfort is in the reality that she is in heaven. And heaven, simply put, is the full, unhindered, all encompassing presence of God. She is hanging out with the creator of the universe. She is overwhelmed by the beauty, the splendor, and the majesty of God and the fullness of His peace; that peace which passes all understanding. The one who created her, who saved her, who loved her, and who finally got her home, is now the one she gets to look upon for all of eternity, with absolutely nothing getting in her way.
In the gospel of John, we read about Jesus being the bridegroom and John simply being the friend of the bridegroom. And then John says, in verse 29, after having heard Jesus speak, “the friend of the bridegroom rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of mine in now complete.” Mamal can now stand in the full presence of the bridegroom, Jesus Christ, hear his voice more clearly than she could have ever imagined, and have true and complete joy.
What a blessing. To spend 88 years walking home. Along the way, helping everyone you pass and loving your family so selflessly and unconditionally, to finally stand before Jesus Christ in awe of his beauty and love and to truly have complete joy.
I want to share one final thought. To the question that my friend asked me on Saturday night about what was my greatest memory of Mamal, my answer was simply, “her.” My greatest memory of Mamal is simply who she was. Her personality, her smile, her humor, and her heart.
A few years ago, I was sitting with a small group of people when the question was raised, “if you could have dinner with anyone who is already gone whom you never got to meet, who would it be?” Without hesitation, I knew my answer. It was Papa. I spent all of my life hearing about the “Bossman” and wondering what it would have been like to know him in person. Yet, I’ll never have that opportunity. I’ll only have the stories, pictures and the legacy that he left behind.
For the past ten years or so, I’ve regularly told my parents that the one thing I hoped for was that one day, whoever she was and whenever I’d meet her, I really wanted my wife to be able to meet Mamal. And I wanted Mamal to be able to meet her. I wanted her to have the priviledge of knowing one of my favorite people in the world. And now, that will never happen. But one thing I can promise. Whenever I do meet her, she will hear so much about Mamal that if she is ever asked the question of who is the one person she would choose to have dinner with that she never got to meet, her answer will be Mamal.
With all of you here today, I say good-bye to Mamal. I say farewell to the Bosslady. And in her honor and per her example, may we all continue our walk home, as travelers here on the earth, loving and helping everyone we find along the way, until one day we see His beauty and find complete joy in hearing the voice of the bridegroom.
I love you Mamal. Thank you for sharing your life with me.
August 2, 2009
13th wheel
Moving from Athens, a town full of people my age, to Thomasville, a town full of no one my age, to Wilmore, a town full of people my age who are all married, has been an interesting adjustment. While I have met some great people here, one of the coolest people and a guy who I can relate to the most is someone I met at our New Student Orientation last fall. He's a great guy from Indy who shares a lot of the same experiences and passions that I do. And as with most people here, he's married to an incredible girl.
On Friday night, Jeremy and Jessica had some friends over for a little party/get-together/send-off before they left town for the coming month. As I got off work and started to think about heading over to their place, I really began to realize that the chances were pretty great that I'd be the only single person around. Now I have to admit that of all my friends who are married, I believe I can honestly say that Jeremy and Jessica create the most welcoming and comfortable environment in which I don't feel like the obvious "single guy."
Still, we all know how the "3rd wheel" syndrome works. Reality is that it is sometimes awkward for a single person when hanging out with several other couples. So I began to consider not showing up and just sending them a message before they left.
Within a few moments of considering bailing out, I immediately heard myself telling friends and guys that I've discipled in the past that life is ultimately a matter of perspective. And choosing to have a positive perspective which isn't completely self-centered is possible, even though it at times can be difficult. So I decided to trust in my own advice and believe that hanging out with Jeremy and Jessica and some other equally great people wouldn't be awkward enough to prevent me from going.
I am so glad that I did!
The night was not only a great time of fellowship, conversations, an intensely hilarious game, and meeting new people, but it was also a wonderful time for me to feel alive again here in Wilmore. We (meaning myself and 5 other couples) were all able to pray over Jeremy and Jessica before they leave to return to Uganda. The night was such a blessing to them and I believe it was a blessing to everyone who was there. But I was especially blessed by my friendship with them and the life-giving experience of the night. It was just one of those nights when, as I walked home, I thought to myself, "Jesus, it's so good to be alive and surrounded by your children."
I continue to hope for the day when I can go to these events with my wife, but until that day comes, I will try to choose interaction over isolation and not give in to the fear of the "3rd wheel" syndrome. May you all find life in those around you, regardless of their stage of life. And may you all have the grace to walk in a Godly perspective everyday instead of a self-centered, prideful one.
P.S. Going to a wedding tonight with a total of 5 single guys didn't help the cause. Still, God is faithful.
P.S.S. Father, I ask that the prayers lifted up over Jeremy and Jessica last night continue to be the prayers of my heart and that you protect them, provide for them, and reveal your Kingdom to them in deeper ways daily. I thank you for Jessica and Jeremy and look forward many more raquetball games with Zerkle.
On Friday night, Jeremy and Jessica had some friends over for a little party/get-together/send-off before they left town for the coming month. As I got off work and started to think about heading over to their place, I really began to realize that the chances were pretty great that I'd be the only single person around. Now I have to admit that of all my friends who are married, I believe I can honestly say that Jeremy and Jessica create the most welcoming and comfortable environment in which I don't feel like the obvious "single guy."
Still, we all know how the "3rd wheel" syndrome works. Reality is that it is sometimes awkward for a single person when hanging out with several other couples. So I began to consider not showing up and just sending them a message before they left.
Within a few moments of considering bailing out, I immediately heard myself telling friends and guys that I've discipled in the past that life is ultimately a matter of perspective. And choosing to have a positive perspective which isn't completely self-centered is possible, even though it at times can be difficult. So I decided to trust in my own advice and believe that hanging out with Jeremy and Jessica and some other equally great people wouldn't be awkward enough to prevent me from going.
I am so glad that I did!
The night was not only a great time of fellowship, conversations, an intensely hilarious game, and meeting new people, but it was also a wonderful time for me to feel alive again here in Wilmore. We (meaning myself and 5 other couples) were all able to pray over Jeremy and Jessica before they leave to return to Uganda. The night was such a blessing to them and I believe it was a blessing to everyone who was there. But I was especially blessed by my friendship with them and the life-giving experience of the night. It was just one of those nights when, as I walked home, I thought to myself, "Jesus, it's so good to be alive and surrounded by your children."
I continue to hope for the day when I can go to these events with my wife, but until that day comes, I will try to choose interaction over isolation and not give in to the fear of the "3rd wheel" syndrome. May you all find life in those around you, regardless of their stage of life. And may you all have the grace to walk in a Godly perspective everyday instead of a self-centered, prideful one.
P.S. Going to a wedding tonight with a total of 5 single guys didn't help the cause. Still, God is faithful.
P.S.S. Father, I ask that the prayers lifted up over Jeremy and Jessica last night continue to be the prayers of my heart and that you protect them, provide for them, and reveal your Kingdom to them in deeper ways daily. I thank you for Jessica and Jeremy and look forward many more raquetball games with Zerkle.
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