Reflecting on 2015

"I'm more than you dreamed, more than you understand

Your days and your times were destined for our dance

I catch all your tears, burn your name on My heart

Be still and trust My plan, I'm more than you think I am." 

- Danny Gokey

I mentioned in my last post that I've experienced the full range of human emotions in 2015, our first year without Nathan. There were big chunks of time when I didn't post, too crippled by grief and doubt to fully stand behind whatever words I could muster. But I was writing all along, and looking back over my journaling in 2015 I see themes and shifts that have helped me better understand my journey through loss.

2015 was a year of firsts without Nate: first New Year, his birthday, Valentine's Day, Easter, Mother's Day, Father's Day, anniversary (we would have been married five years in June '15), my birthday, Elissa's first birthday, and the first anniversary of the accident. The once-special days seemed to come in waves, pushing me back down into a sea of pain and broken dreams as soon as I started coming up for air. I am thankful now that I chose to embrace the holidays for all the joy and pain that they represented. I didn't even attempt to suck it up and march blindly forward. I spent Valentine's Day blinded by tears, surrounded by piles of love letters from Nate. On our anniversary I was in Houston, tracing our steps back to all the places where we'd lived, gone on dates, and eaten our favorite foods. On my birthday I took Elissa back to Strong Mansion, our wedding venue. October 5 found us in Destin, FL, one of Nathan's favorite beaches, with the people he loved most. Looking back I see a trend on these poignant days. I would begin the day overwhelmed by grief, barely able to breathe. The path through our memories seemed unbearable, but necessary. There was nothing else I could or wanted to do. And by the end of the day I was actually able to smile, and laugh, and be so thankful for my years with Nate and find genuine joy in the life I now live with my baby girl. That is a priceless gift, and I don't think I would have come to that place had I not chosen to throw myself headlong into the most painful aspects of my loss.

Valentine's Day 2015 - overwhelmed by all the love!

As Thanksgiving and Christmas '15 rolled around I noticed a marked difference from the previous year, when we were all still stunned by Nate's absence. In 2014 I wanted nothing to do with these holidays; I tried my hardest to avoid them. On Thanksgiving I spent the day driving to North Carolina, timing it so that I would miss all the feasting. On Christmas I locked myself away for most of the day and refused to give or receive gifts. It was the only way I could make it through what used to be my favorite holidays, but this year, with a busy toddler in tow, I baked traditional Thanksgiving dishes and ate and wrapped presents during Christmas movie marathons and even felt a spark of the old anticipation on Christmas morning. Seeing things through Elissa's eyes makes these days new again. Holidays will never be what they were with Nate, who literally made me giddy with joy more times than I can count. I had the best years of my life with him, but there is so much life still to live with Elissa. Every day I thank God for the hope and fresh perspective that she gives me.

Thanksgiving 2015

I read about a couple who lost their six children in a fiery car crash, and years later they attributed their faith in God to the way they'd seen Him carry them through each day since. That is exactly the way I feel fifteen months after Nate's accident. My faith has run the full gamut of questions, rage, and doubt, but the one constant thing is that Jesus has never let us go. Several months ago I journaled these words:

I've wanted to write inspiring posts about trust and faith but I barely know what those words mean anymore. My worldview has been upended; my beliefs are in tatters. It scares me to publicize my fear, anger and doubts. What happened to the steady Christian girl with unshakable faith?

The unthinkable happened. Try as I might I cannot roll over and play dead with God. I cannot blindly accept everything that happened as being "part of a plan" or "for a reason." Nate's accident is senseless and meaningless and so wrong. It should NEVER have happened. As long as I live there will never be any answers to explain it away. 

Was my former faith really so shallow that a catastrophic loss can destroy it? I've come to believe that God doesn't expect me to shut my mouth and play this hideous hand I've been dealt without an epic internal battle. I believe He's invited me to have it out with Him. He's big enough to handle my rage, my hurt, my doubts and my tears. He already knows all about it anyway, so it's both senseless and futile to try to bottle everything up inside. 

I don't want anyone to think for a minute that I'm stronger or braver than I really am. My faith is one long string of question marks and expletives, and I am relearning how to live in a world where nothing is guaranteed and the most beautiful things can suddenly become the most horrific. I once thought I knew God. Nothing could have prepared me for this side of Him. 

My former faith has been torn down and rebuilt on a foundation that includes the worst loss imaginable. Yes, God allowed it. And somehow, even now, He is still good. He is still God. And every day I am learning a little more about what that means. 

I believe that people suffering the aftermath of a catastrophic loss are given little glimpses of their loved one as an encouragement to pull through to the finish line. Around Elissa's birthday I had a vivid picture of Nathan that changed my perspective so much. Many well-meaning people had said things about Nate being "in a better place" and "at peace," and I took this to mean that he was so happy with Jesus that he wasn't even missing the ones he left behind.

While I do believe that heaven is infinitely better than earth, and that given the choice Nate would probably not want to come back, I firmly believe that he knows this is not the way things are meant to be. God has promised to redeem all evil for great good, but sickness and drunk drivers and serial killers and death were never part of His original plan. Death is horrific, nauseating, the antithesis of creation. All the perspective in the world doesn't make it okay. Jesus wept at Lazarus' tomb. He knew that He was about to raise him from the dead, but that didn't take the pain away. Nathan sees how all this will turn out, yet I believe he still grieves the untimely severance of our souls. We are separated by time and space, and the eternity in our hearts heaves against the separation.

Somehow the image I saw of Nathan cheering me on through tears at the life I am left to walk alone has filled me with hope and the will to press on. The end of Hebrews 11 talks about martyrs "of whom the world was not worthy" dying in faith before receiving what was promised. The very next verse, Hebrews 12:1, admonishes us to run our race with endurance, "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." To me, the image of a cloud of witnesses means that Nathan is still involved in my life on earth. Like Jesus, he sees what I am going through and he intercedes for me. Randy Alcorn suggests that there is a "present heaven" where saints go before the final creation of the New Earth: the longed-for paradise where there will be no more tears or sadness, because all will finally be well. In the present heaven, as depicted in Revelation, Christians who have died still watch the drama being played out on earth and pray for those they have left behind. It brings me comfort to imagine Nathan watching the way I raise Elissa, praying for us because he will always be part of our family.

I can't pretend that I've been through the dark valley of anger and doubt and made it through to the other side. I don't ever want to stay quiet until I've resolved things about God and the way the world works that will honestly probably never fully resolve, but I do want to end affirming what I still know to be true: that God loves us. He has a plan for us that isn't exempt from horrific pain, but that is guaranteed to use the worst circumstances for good. As it turns out, God's "good" is usually the opposite of what seems good to me. But He is the One in control, who sees the end from the beginning, and while this life was never promised to bring us happiness or ultimate satisfaction, awaiting His children is an eternity filled to overflowing with all the things our hearts most deeply long for.

My Sunshine.

Finish the Fight

"That's one hell of an amen,

Fighting the good fight

Till the good Lord calls you home"

- Brantley Gilbert

2015 is drawing to a close, the end of our first year without Nathan. I haven't posted in a long time because there is so much baggage to sort through while learning to live all over again in a world I never could have imagined. I am relearning God, and relationships, and my self as a mother but no longer a wife. I am constantly up and down the emotional spectrum, sometimes all in the same hour. I have learned that time does not heal, that some wounds will throb and protest until they are permanently erased in heaven. I have raged and sobbed and wanted to die and gone numb. I have been shocked by pangs of love and joy that I was sure I'd never feel again. I have experienced firsthand the resilience of the human spirit. The man I love more than life is no longer here, but somehow each day I find the will to get out of bed, to make the most of another day, to give our daughter the life she would have had with both of us, to press through to the finish line and make him proud.

This past October 5, the one year anniversary of Nathan's passage to heaven, marked a tangible shift for me. I had made it through that excruciating year of firsts: first Christmas, first new year, first birthday without him; and lasts: last time we kissed, went on a trip, ate dinner, watched an episode of Parks and Rec together. I spent October 5 in Destin, FL, one of Nathan's favorite beaches, with his family and closest friends. As I sat alone by the ocean and reflected on the last year I felt a tide turn within me. For the first time I had the words and the will to tell our story. A week later I stood in front of an Alabama youth group, tears flowing freely throughout the room as perfect strangers were introduced to the most extraordinary man I've ever known. 

For an hour I talked about our love story, Nathan's character and drive, and things I've learned from him. After fifteen months of reflecting on the way Nathan lived his life, I can honestly say that he is my hero. I aspire to be just like him, and if I can live the rest of my days with half as much purpose and vision as he did in his 26 years I will count myself a success. 

I shared earlier this year about how Nathan's coworker gave his parents a card at his memorial service. Inside was a photo of Nathan, wearing a shirt that none of us had ever seen. The message on the shirt has gotten me through each day since losing him: a challenge to Finish the Fight. 

Finishing the fight is exactly how Nathan lived each day. I want to share with you all what I shared with the Alabama youth group, a FIGHT acronym which aptly describes how Nathan lived each day. My prayer is that it will challenge and inspire each of you as it has inspired me to live on mission in 2016. 

The first word is FAITH: complete trust and confidence in God. When Nathan was in high school his 19-year-old cousin, Elizabeth, was in a horrific car accident while traveling to a worship conference. She died after 60 days in the intensive care burn unit. Years ago while we were dating Nate wrote me this email about the impact that Elizabeth’s death had on him:

“I was kind of a Christian when everything happened, but it did not make sense to me...how could God let this happen? Why? There are plenty of teenagers who didn't have near as promising a future as Elizabeth; why didn't God choose one of them instead? Honestly, I haven't been able to even come close to answering that question. The more I asked it, the further away from God I got. I have finally come to accept the fact that I'll never know on earth why He did it, but I have FAITH that God loves His children enough to do what is best for them.”

Nathan was a man of amazing intellect, but he didn’t let things that didn’t make sense to him give him an excuse to not believe in God. His life verse was Proverbs 3:5, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” In 2013 Nathan and I lost our first child, Hope, and at the time it was the hardest thing I had ever gone through. Nathan’s faith had already been tested and strengthened through losing Elizabeth, and he was able to point me back to God’s promises and faithfulness in the midst of our heartbreak. He didn’t let his circumstances change what he knew to be true about God; his faith was his anchor through the storms of life.

The second word is INTEGRITY: moral uprightness. Nathan set very high standards for himself, and invited others to join him in doing the same. In college he started a challenge group with a few close friends, where they set weekly goals for themselves and held each other accountable. The challenge group continued with new friends and coworkers and even with me after we moved to Houston. An excerpt from his personal mission statement reads: 

“I strive to honor God with every action. I have a quiet time at least five times a week, and I give 10% of what I make to advancing God’s kingdom. My personal desires and actions are subject to God’s commands and calling for my life. 

I live my life as if someone is watching every action that I make. My actions follow my professed ideals and beliefs. My integrity is not be compromised for any reason (i.e. pleasure, advancement (corporately or monetarily), etc.). I am sexually pure in thought and action.

After God, my family is my number one priority. Their well-being and happiness supersedes my career and personal advancement. 

My close friendships are God centered, and with all of my friends, I demonstrate the love of Christ. I share humbly my thoughts and struggles with my close friends and invite their insight into my life. 

I inspire the people around me to perform to their highest potential, and I lead by example. 

I continually challenge myself to grow in every aspect of my life. I read one book a week, and I research areas that I am not knowledgeable in order to have an informed opinion. In every action that I perform I am proactive and give my best effort. I improve instead of complain. My mission in life is to fulfill God’s purpose.”

It is incredible that at the end of Nathan’s life on earth those closest to him can look back and say that he truly lived out the high standards he set for himself each and every day. As I’ve thought back over our years together I honestly cannot remember a single time that Nathan complained or spoke negatively about someone. He was the same at home with his guard down as he was in public, genuine to the core.

The third word is GIFTS. Nathan means Gift of God. Not only was Nathan an amazing gift to me, his family and his friends, but he was extraordinarily gifted. He had the brain of an engineer, the vision of a CEO, the athletic prowess of a starting quarterback, the humor of a stand-up comedian, the looks of an Abercrombie model, and to top it all off he was everyone’s best friend. To give you an idea of the effect Nathan had on people, at his memorial services four different men – a high school student, a successful engineer, a Marine fighter pilot, and a Ph.D. scientist – all stood up and called Nathan the best friend they’d ever had.

Youth, peers, and senior executives alike aspired to be like Nathan. He made the most of his God-given gifts, but he never acted superior about them. In fact, one thing that everyone admired the most about Nate was how good he was at calling out the gifts in those around him. One friend said that Nate “made everyone a better version of themselves.” At times he identified and awakened gifts in others that they didn’t even know they had. Nate was the ultimate leader because he so valued each individual’s unique gifts. He brought teamwork and unity to every situation by bringing out the best in those around him instead of trying to dominate and be the best.

The fourth word is HONOR: great respect. Nathan honored God, and he honored others. This was exemplified particularly in our four-year dating relationship. There were so many times when I got tired of fighting and was ready to “throw in the purity towel,” figuratively speaking. I shudder to think where we would have ended up if it weren’t for Nate’s steadfast leadership in honoring God and each other. Even after we were married Nathan made me feel like a princess every day. I can’t remember a single time that he criticized me or made me feel insecure about myself. I am far from perfect, but Nate brought so much grace into our home and always treated me with the highest esteem.

At first glance Nathan looked like he had it all. But his gifts and character came at great personal cost. As a young boy he was legally blind in one eye, and had severe problems with his other eye. He wore an eye patch for years, as well as braces and headgear. He was repeatedly mocked by others and had to learn that it is what’s on the inside of a person that matters. 1 Samuel 16:7 says, “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” Nathan had the same mentality. Instead of looking down on others who didn’t measure up in an area he focused on the good he saw in everyone, and he helped me to do the same.

The last word is TIME. Nathan had enough vision and personal goals to fill three lifetimes, and he made every minute count. Part of Nate’s challenge group was a weekly “Roles and Goals” worksheet that he would fill out to make sure he fulfilled each of his priorities in his roles as a Christian, husband, worker, family member, and friend. A typical day for Nate went something like this:

-Wake up at 5 am

-Spend time with God

-Work all day

-Call friends and family on the way home from work

-Exercise

-Eat dinner and spend quality time with me

-Work a few more hours on nonprofit and grad school projects

Looking at all Nate accomplished in a short period of time, some might think he was a workaholic. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Nate valued hard work, and he maximized every minute of work time, but he also valued fun and relaxation. Often he was the one dragging me out of the kitchen and forcing me to stop working and goof off with him. He loved games – especially Guesstures and charades – and he was always finding the latest Fail Videos on YouTube. He played basketball every chance he got, and our Friday night ritual consisted of pizza, shaved ice, and Steve Martin or Jim Carrey movie marathons. Nate loved to laugh more than anything, and the number one thing that everyone remembers most about him is his legendary smile.

Nathan taught me that there is a time for everything: for work and for play, for learning and relationships and rest. He did everything with such excellence and purpose that many people have commented that he lived a full 80-year life in just 26 years. We will never understand why Nate was only given 26 earthly years, and why God called him home when it seemed like his life had only just begun. But in God’s perfect timing Nathan’s work here on earth was done. He has won his eternal reward; he has heard the words “Well done, good and faithful servant!”

At the beginning of my talk l asked the kids what one thing they wanted most in the world. If you had asked me this question eight years or five or one year ago I would have said Nathan. He is the best thing that ever happened to me, and now he has gone on ahead of me to heaven. What do I have left here on earth?

I have a fight to finish. I’m still here because my work on earth isn’t done. If I accomplish one thing in my life I want it to be fighting like Nathan taught me. I want to thrive, not just survive. I want to be so heavenly-minded that I am of great earthly good. I know that God is fighting for me and Elissa, and that Nathan is in the cloud of witnesses cheering us on. We are not alone. I am committed to fight every day for the rest of my life to honor God and make Nathan proud, and to win the prize of eternity. 

Numbered Days

"You gave me a forever within the

numbered days,

and I'm grateful."

- John Green

It was a balmy June evening, five years ago today. Great fans blew air-light dresses into puffs and plumes as a roomful of girls nibbled strawberries, put the finishing touches on our makeup and dabbed at the perspiration on our foreheads. I slipped into yards of ivory chiffon, fastened chandelier earrings, shed tears over the last letter from my fiancé-about-to-turn-husband. My breath caught as I peeped out an upstairs window and glimpsed him in his tux, taking pictures with his best guys. He was handsome, more than ever, and at long last about to be mine. Then came my bouquet, and hurried clicks of bridal portraits in the late-day sun, and train-gathering and the descent down creaky old stairs and out onto the expectant lawn. My favorite music played; my sisters and best friends sailed one by one down the aisle while Nathan's smile got bigger and bigger. My hand nestled in the crook of Dad's arm. My heart swelled with pent-up fulfillment so close I could taste it. The moment hung heavy with complete, thrilling silence...then the words, our words:

"So close to reaching, that famous happy end

Almost believing, this is not pretend

And now you're beside me, and look how far we've come

So far, we are...so close"

The melody soared, we rounded the corner, and suddenly the moment I had imagined countless times was overwhelmingly real. I was spellbound by the love in Nathan's gaze, at long last taking those final steps to close the distance before our lifelong union. The moment that felt at once like an eternity and a fraction of a second ended with the strains of the song I'd planned to surprise him, and - let's be honest - to jerk some tears out of those eyes brimming with love and joy. He took my hands in his, barely able to contain his excitement, and to my dismay I was the one who utterly dissolved into tears of sheer relief. This was it - the moment we'd awaited for four long years.

The subsequent hymn and pastor's message gave me time to collect myself. Nate wiped my tears and squeezed my hands and gazed at me so adoringly I had no idea how I'd make it through the whole ceremony. We'd written our vows to each other in a tiny leather notebook, and while I read mine he held my wrist and bit his lip with the most beautiful look of love and pride. I will never forget his eyes that day. His vows to me were simple, eloquent, and lived out every day of our marriage:

I, Nathan, take you, Jen, to be my lawfully wedded wife;

to love you unconditionally, to protect and provide for

you. I promise to be a strong spiritual leader and strive

to fulfill your dreams and desires. I will be your husband,

your best friend, your brother in Christ, and your

kindred spirit, always pointing you to Christ who has

mercifully sustained us thus far and will sustain us in the

future. By God's grace, I will love you as Christ loves the

Church. I will honor and cherish you, for better or for

worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in

joy and in sorrow, in failure and in triumph. Now, in the

presence of our families and close friends, I give you my

life, all that I am and possess, from this moment forward

until God by death shall separate us.

When the pastor, at long last, pronounced us husband and wife, Nate kissed me for an unholy length of time and we booked it back down the aisle, accompanied by whistles and cheers. While the bridal party and guests milled around us we laughed and cried and held each other as tight as we could, lost in the exhilaration of finally - finally! - belonging to one another. I personally was miffed that there was still an entire reception to attend to. We'd gotten the most important part taken care of, and I was more than ready to get the heck out of there and start living the married dream.

That said, our reception was a party like none other. We barely got to eat a bite because of all the clinking glasses and ringing bells and kissing, and then there were dances to be danced and toasts to be given. I danced with my dad, he danced with his mom and then he spun me out on the floor to a rather overt song on the first country CD he ever gave me, all those years ago:

"I want to be the wind that fills your sails

And be the hand that lifts your veil

Be the moon that moves your tide

The sun coming up in your eyes

Be the wheels that never rust

And be the spark that lights you up

All that you've been dreaming of and more,

So much more,

I want to be your everything"

Our wedding was magical in every sense of the word. Every year on our anniversary we'd snuggle in bed and talk about our favorite memories from June 20, 2010. Five years later, I remember it like it was yesterday. The setting, music, food, laughter, dancing and fellowship were all better than I could have imagined. But what I will cherish until the day I die is the way Nate loved and rejoiced over me - exuberantly, unabashedly. His whole heart was in his eyes that day, for all our friends and family to witness. None of the "calm and collected groom" act going on - he was all in, for better or for worse, forever.

Our photographer, Kristen, perfectly captured my favorite moment of the evening:

"As a photographer who has been a part of hundreds of weddings I often get asked the question 'Do you have a favorite wedding?'  I always reply the same way: 'Favorite wedding what? Favorite wedding venue? Favorite couple? Favorite all-around wedding? Favorite wedding to photograph? Favorite wedding moment? [Etc.]'  Depending on what they respond with, I usually get to tell them a few top winners in the various 'wedding categories.'  And my favorite moment of any wedding, and the answer I always give to that question, happened at your wedding.

"During the reception when you both stood up to thank your friends and family, Nate was talking on the microphone and said 'Jen and I...' and while he did, he glanced over to you. I'll never forget how he completely stopped speaking and stared straight into your eyes. You two were so lost with each other, far away from us all. A few seconds later he laughed and said 'I'm so in love with you.'  It was the most sincere distraction I'd ever seen. I remember wanting to have 'that.'  I know there are many happy couples who really are compatible and good together. But you two had more. And I will always remember being able to stand witness to what you had. It was rare, and lives on. You had more in your eight years together than groups of people have in their lifetimes...your love was glowing, moved me, and will never die."

On June 20, 2010, Nathan and I vowed to love one another until God, by death, separated us. We knew our days together were numbered...but we expected them to run into the tens of thousands. Never could we have imagined that God would see fit to separate us less than five years after we embarked on the great adventure we'd spent our lives dreaming of. Four years and four months after Nate and I met, we were married. Four years and four months after we pledged our lives to one another, he went on ahead to wait for me on eternity's shore.

Nate, those eight years and eight months were the best days of my life.  Knowing now how our story on earth ends I would still choose you, over and over again, for eternity. You are so infinitely worth every painful memory, every tear I now shed alone. You gave me a forever in our numbered days. For the rest of my life I will love and long for you.