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An example of eternal perspective
I've been transcribing Jeseca's journals for the past several months. It sounds simple, but it is an ongoing emotional task putting all of Jeseca's five handwritten journals into one computerized document. Never before have I seen someone's heart so near to God's. So I continue on, for I know that whoever reads the finished piece -- Jeseca's Magnum Opus -- will see an extraordinary example of the relationship we can all have with the God who created the world and universe in which we live. Tonight's post is merely a cut-and-paste from her masterpiece; her entry dated December 8, 2005: "It is so glorious to read your word in the morning, Lord; to find hope and truth. Sometimes my mind thinks too much and I start to question if you're real, and then I read your word and it seems like it's alive! It reaches out and grabs hold of my heart, pulling me back to you again. Lately I look at so many things that people are doing; buying and trying to make so much money. It seems so pointless to me if you can't keep it. I feel that time is short and I must do things that will last eternally. This world and what it has to offer is meaningless except for the souls that are crying out to be saved. "It is Christmas season, Lord; your season. Once again we celebrate your amazing birth and what you came to do for this world. Keep me close to you during this season, Lord. It's easy to get sidetracked by the enemy and go after things that are not important. "Still I look to you for healing. 'Have mercy on me, Oh God, have mercy on me; for in you my soul takes refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed. I cry out to God Most High, to God, who fulfills his purpose for me. He sends from heaven and saves, rebuking those who hotly pursue me; God sends his love and his faithfulness.' Psalm 57:1-3 "I count on your word, Lord. I count on you fulfilling your purpose through me; that my life would not be pointless; that I will stand before you and hear you say, 'You are a good and obedient servant, Jeseca. I used you to save many souls and touch many lives that even you know nothing about. And as for your children, because you were faithful to teach them my ways and raise them to be warriors for me, they will reap many treasures in heaven and will shine like the sun in my kingdom forever. Well done, my good and faithful servant.'" Incredible. Lord, may that be what you say when I see your face. JG
Transitioning through
 January 21, 1972, will always be a day I remember. I was a little over five months old, and I imagine that day for me was quite different than the previous 150 or so. To borrow from Steven Curtis Chapman, the sun probably shone brighter in the Indiana sky, and I probably smiled bigger than ever before; for that was the day my life changed. It was the day Jeseca was born. She would be 36 today had God not called her home. But as I've said before, how can I fault him for wanting to be with her? She was magnificent. Many thoughts have gone through my mind over the past five months as I've tried to gain my bearings in the sea of life ahead of me. Most of them are the realizations that, although I loved her like crazy, I could have loved her more. I could have loved her in the small things of life. I could have read to her more while she lay on the couch with her legs up. I could have helped her more around the house; or at least I could have done it with a better attitude. I could have encouraged her every moment of every day to spend more time on her art than on my meals...... You know, the little things that make life so much richer. I know I got some of them right, but I could have done better. Today, however, I didn't beat myself up as much. Somewhere along the line...perhaps it was just today...I stopped kicking my heart around and started rejoicing in the knowledge that I was the one she chose to stand by her side in this life and escort her to the gates of heaven. And she made it! She finished her race! (I don't even know where the finish line is.) Even more remarkable for me is that I'm now sincerely happy for her; for where she is now and with whom. I've come to a transition point from sorrow to joy because of the hope I have in our Lord Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life. He has given me peace. He is so, so good to me. And he is revealing himself more and more to and in the boys. A couple of days ago, after an hour-long jaunt through Balboa Park, Christian opened up and told me he's sad every day because his mom died. I told him I was, too, and that it's okay to be sad. Then I pointed him to Jesus and told him that God knows we're sad, but that he also wants us to be happy because of his love; that God has a plan for his life that no one can stop. All we have to do is keep following Jesus and the pieces will fall into place. He got it, then asked if we could "go see Mom." We did today, and I got to witness God's true miracle-work in progress as Christian laughed and played around El Camino Memorial Park. At one point, he stood on the grave site where Jeseca's feet would be if she were just below the surface. I told him it was okay (Everen was telling him to move), to which Christian replied, "I'm not going to hurt her. She's not there; she's in heaven." He really does understand. He reminds me so much of her; laughing, running, playing all the time. God's bringing him back to life, too. It's so great to see. JG
Redemptive hope: the story of my pain
Five months. Unbelievable......... I met Jeremy Camp years ago when he was just starting out, almost immediately after he lost his first wife to cancer. He is a wonderful lyricist with the gift I so desire. He sings his story. This song tells mine...the story of my love and trust for God in the midst of tragedy. There's no need to say a thing when I'm before you.
In this silence I feel refreshed with peace.
Break this noise that binds the voice that tries to speak.
Open my eyes to see Your gracious, sovereign reach.
It's hard to talk when I feel that You are near,
When all is quiet it's the beauty that I hear.
This hidden place where I know that You've calmed my fears.
I know that You've washed my tears.
The seasons of change I've faced have never left me wounded.
Only scars of hurt, but never deeply rooted.
This healing I have felt, no burden can replace.
Redemptive hope has been the story of my pain.
It's hard to talk when I feel that You are near,
When all is quiet it's the beauty that I hear.
This hidden place where I know that You've calmed my fears.
Yes, I know that You've washed my tears.
All is lost without the breath of life You give, and You give so much.
I want nothing more than You, so here's my heart. Here's my heart.
It's hard to talk when I feel that You are near,
When all is quiet it's the beauty that I hear.
This hidden place where I know that You've calmed my fears.
Yes, I know that You've washed my tears.
Click here to listen to When You Are Near by Jeremy Camp. It's worth it. JG
2008
 Is a picture worth a thousand words tonight? Maybe. What exactly does this picture say? Does it convey what we feel deep down? What I feel an hour after praying alone while the rest of the world celebrates? No, I'm afraid it doesn't. It shows only a portion of the life we live as 2007 gives way to 2008...that we are making it. The rest of tonight's post will be the other portion, and may in fact amount to another thousand words......the words this picture doesn't quite convey. I've done an enormous amount of thinking over the past several weeks, mostly about this moment in time -- the passing of a new year without Jeseca. How should I prepare for it? Should I prepare for it at all? What should I do if friends invite me to celebrate it with them? Do I need to isolate myself from the world in order to preserve the tradition we established years ago and pray through the end of 2007 and into 2008? And what of the boys? How will they deal with the official beginning of a new year without the woman who taught them everything they know about this world in which we live? Without the woman who loved them more than her own life? Surprisingly enough, I had no answers. I decided to play it by the moment and allow God to stir in me whatever he knew was necessary. Breakfast was great (thanks for coming over, Mom, and for your beautiful comment), and by noon the boys were off with their grandma for a few hours....a much, much needed respite from the noise of boys. As I contemplated what to do with the day, I shot off a few emails then headed over to the golf course where Jeseca purchased a year's membership so I could sharpen up for a shot at playing competitive golf again. I'd spent quite a bit of time on the practice green there before her health took a turn for the worst...most of it while listening to the iPod Jeseca found along the road as she ventured on her daily morning walk. It's where I first heard Dvorak's triumphant Symphony No. 9. It's where the front office staff remarked how jealous they were of me for having a wife who loved me enough to actually invest in my golf game instead of complain about it. It's where I continued the dream we shared...the dream that one day I would play in a PGA Tour event and embrace her with a huge hug and kiss in the crowd when it was all over. As I stood on the green for the very last time (today was the final day of the membership), it hit me that the dream has been lost forever. It's gone. But you know what's strange? When I finally chose to put the ball on the green, I made the first putt. Why does God do that??? I may be crazy, but I truly think he just keeps showing me that it's not over. It's not lost. "Life is still going, so pick your heart up off the ground, quit stepping on it, and let's go!" "But God, I kinda like kicking my heart around a bit....." Isn't that the way we are? Hey, at least I can laugh at myself. ........... New Year's Eve was the day when Jeseca and I would focus our attention on each other and the Lord and seek his direction for the year ahead. For the first time in 12 years, I spent it alone. But as I told a friend earlier, because I love God and have chosen above all else to put him first in my life, I am commanded to be strong and courageous and to face this year with hope. That's all I can do. ........... I'd never gone back to read through the short stories I've posted here until this week. There are more than 70 in all, not counting those that didn't transfer over from my other blog, JesusandJava.com. I was curious if there was a central theme, or if they were the simple ramblings of a man desperate for a solution for the love of his life. You know what I found? Hope. I was wrong, and I still had hope. Things looked horrible; I knew I might lose her forever, and I still had hope. I worked endlessly and sometimes without sleep, trying desperately to balance my responsibilities here at home and at work, and still I had hope. She died, and somehow I had hope that God would bring her back. And now as I face the first calendar year without her, I hold on to the hope I have expressed so many times over the past few years; the hope I have in a God who cared so much about me that he gave up his one and only son just to knock on the door of my heart. That kind of hope lasts forever. So while this year will be filled with a series of firsts (as another friend wisely pointed out to me), my God remains the same as he was yesterday and today, and he promises to be by my side through it all. As 3:00 a.m. approaches and I begin to think about the boys coming to ask for breakfast, I want to leave you with the scripture God has put on my heart for 2008: Psalm 37:5-6 says, "Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun."He did that for Jeseca. Everyone who saw her mentioned how radiant she looked. That's what I want; that even in a year of uncertainty, while we remain committed to the Lord, he will make us shine. May he do that for you, as well. God bless, everyone. Happy New Year. JG
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© 2006-2008 Jon Graves. All rights reserved. |
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