September 21, 2002

It's 4:45 am. Jeff just left for the airport. It's pouring down rain and I can't sleep. After he walked out the door I ran to our bedroom window and watched him drive away. I felt afraid... "Lord, please bring him back to me..." It's funny, I used to live in this bubble of "that would never happen..." but now my bubble is gone and I realize that anything can happen. It's a scary place. Knowing the way things are in this world we had to take time to talk about "what if" before he left. We went over insurance, money... and then we went over, what he would tell Levi if he got to heaven before me... strange thing to let my heart and mind go there. In my mind I saw this picture of Jeff and Levi running to each other, hugging, kissing and knowing each other again, knowing love without being bound to words to express it. I still see that snapshot in my mind... all of this made me think of all the special moments, mental snapshots that I have stored up in my mind. I scroll through them and I see a plethora of sweet things.

There's the day I walked down the isle to marry Jeff, our whole life ahead of us. I see the first time I laid eyes on each one of my children after giving birth to them. The wonder of it all, the desire to stop all time long enough to grasp the vastness of the blessing. But no, time kept moving, going, going... then I "go" to the days when I had 4 children under 6, wondering if I would ever make it through the day in and day out of it all, yet knowing that someday this time in my life would be something I would long to go back to. Wow, my mind is wide open now, so many moments I would have just stopped to hold on to if only I could have. The time I prayed with my brother, David to receive Christ in the back of his truck at Stone Mtn. Park. (after praying for 15 years). The first time I saw Dicky (my other brother) hold his new born baby. The time that Lori and Levi were sitting on my couch just looking at each other, staring, trying desperately to stop time from bringing what we all knew was coming...the time I looked up from praying over Levi and saw my mom and dad holding on to each other and me, crying out to God, a hard moment but beautiful, so beautiful was the sight of our families coming together so passionately. Such fleeting moments. I want them back. I don't like how time keeps rolling by waiting for no one. No matter how hard I may try to hold on to life it is always slipping away. It's not mine, it can't be kept, saved or stored up....

Jeff's life verse is Acts 20:24, "However I consider my life worth nothing to me if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me. The task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace." And there you have it!! If we consider this life nothing in light of what Christ has done for us we can live knowing that in the end HE will capture all our "moments" and He will hold them tightly for us so that when we stand before Him having been faithful all the way, we will find our treasures stored up. They will finally be ours to keep. Time will not bind us, the enemy will no longer chase us. Our moments will no longer flee. That is sooo worth waiting for.

Please pray for Jeff as he is in Alaska on a mission trip. Please pray for him safety, peace and a deeper walk with Jesus.

Love to you all,
jami

September 8, 2002

Graci and I were singing the song "My favorite things" from the movie "The Sound of Music"  but I couldn't remember all the words so I went looking for the video which I hadn't seen for a while – which meant it must be in the storage room in the basement. I ventured into the less traveled room.   I entered hesitantly, not only because it's such a mess but also because Levi's medical paraphernalia is in there.  His MRI's, his old oxygen mask, syringes, medical tape, saline to flush his broviac, medicines… the bag/backpack that I used to take everywhere we went that had everything we could possibly need... everything except a cure...

   I didn't find the video but I did see all the "Levi stuff."  I was going to just look at it and walk out quickly but I didn't.  I couldn't.  I walked toward it.  I started rummaging through all the memories that go with it.  My mind was overcome with mental pictures of the "life" before.  Just for "old time sake" I put on a sanitary mask and picked up a syringe.  How familiar it was.  How comforting… I wondered if I could still remember the "process" that I knew so well… I screwed a sanitary needle onto the syringe, I got a bottle of saline, pushed air into it and then watched as the saline flooded into the syringe, 10cc's, pushing the extra air out and unscrewing the needle to attach it to his broviac and flush it... but there is no Levi at the other end of the broviac, there is no broviac... I imagined him choosing who would be the "lucky one" (he used to pick which one of the kids got to push the fluid in once I had set it up.) He always loved to see the excitement on the face of the "chosen one"... .  I miss those days.  I miss the responsibility,  I miss him...

   Graci and I met Jeff for breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. We were sitting on the front porch waiting for him.  I was in a big rocking chair and she, of course, had chosen a small white rocking chair right next to me.  We were just talking and rocking.  Then she looked past me at the rocking chair on my other side.  It was another chair identical to her little one.  She got up out of her chair and walked to the empty chair… she pushed it and made it rock back and forth, back and forth.  I just watched, wondering what she was doing.  Then she looked at me and said, "I'm pretending Levi is in this chair."  I smiled and said, "he used to love this place didn't he?"  "yes ma'am, and I wish he was here..."  She let go of the chair and went back to hers.  We were just quiet together but I watched out of the corner of my eye as "Levi's chair" rocked slower and slower until it was completely still.  The stillness and emptiness of it suddenly became painfully loud to me... to us both.

   I am beginning to see that there is a part of me that will be forever sad.  There will be a "sigh" forever inside of me too deep for words.  I've heard some people say: "Oh you'll heal, you'll be fine, someday you won't be so sad."  Well, I know that I'm a novice at this.  But I have come to the conclusion that I will never not have a sad place, a longing to be with Levi, an amputation of sorts.   But I am learning to live in it.  I am learning that it is that very "missing piece" that keeps my heart and mind fixed on eternal things.  It's the "empty rocking chair" that makes me get up and live life more fully for Christ. I am sad. Truly, truly more sad than I ever thought possible. But when I am joyful I am more joyful than I ever thought possible (even though the joyful bursts are few and far between) . 

   I guess what I'm trying to say is:  Being sad is okay. Being dissatisfied with this world and all its "bummers" is even a good thing because I have a tighter grip on the fact that we were not made for this world, therefore it is increasingly lacking what we need and that is hard to live in… but it is true.  Jeff and I were talking today.  He had gone to the bookstore and ended up talking to a Buddhist monk.  Jeff basically witnessed to this guy for about thirty minutes telling him about the person of Christ and how we were created to worship Him, to have a personal relationship with Him… he called me afterwards and said, "Oh Jami, while I was talking to that guy I felt so close to the Lord. All I want to do is share HIM with lost people"... "I guess that's why people who are martyred for Christ find it easy to "let go" of this world. They're satisfied. They have done what they were created to do and they can "go" in the peace of knowing they've fought the good fight and kept the faith... 

   ...that sounds so spiritually "in control" …and when I read over it I even sense strength,  which makes me want to erase it because that's not what's going on in me.  I am weak, confused and all cluttered up inside. I just know that HIS plan is good in the end no matter how it may appear today. 

    I say along with Thoman Merton, "My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me.  I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.  But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. " 

"I have found that the most extravagant dreams of boyhood have not surpassed the great experience of being in the will of God, and I believe that nothing could be better."                      Jim Elliott (Martyr for Christ)

fumbling victoriously,
jami

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