My Popaw Can Fix Anything

Children often put an adult in their life on a pedestal:

"My dad is better than your dad"
"My sister is cooler than your sister."
"My big brother can beat up your big brother."
 "My Popaw can fix anything."

Then you grow up and you see that you were disillusioned. Reality sets in as you grow up and get to know the adult in your life as a person. Your perspective changes. You see their flaws, but you love them and very likely still admire them. 

My cousin Tanner and I spent a lot of time at Grammy and Popaw's house when we were growing up. I know that one of us probably said that Popaw could fix anything at least once a week. Popaw took me to pick blackberries, "hunting for treasures" in old barns, hunting for minnows at Hummel Park that we took home in a big 5 gallon bucket, and for rides on the tractor in the snow.
He took Tanner "fishing" in the swimming pool, to play basketball, and Tanner always talks about the day that Popaw saved his life.
Popaw was definitely our man on the pedestal, our friend, our fixer, and our teacher.

I am now 24, a mother and a wife. Tanner is 18 and in college. We both had the privilege of knowing Popaw through a child's perspective and as adults. I had the privilege of living with my Grammy and Popaw from age 16 until I got married at 20. My perspective didn't change. My Popaw is still all of the things and more than I recognized as a child, a Godlier man than any other that I have ever known.

My Popaw is funny, funnier than I probably was able to recognize as a child.
My Popaw is a storyteller. His stories about the eccentric neighbor next door brought me to tears of laughter more than once.
My Popaw is a counselor. I know many men that sought and respected his advice.
My Popaw is even keeled, his feathers not easily ruffled.
My Popaw is smart. He almost always has an answer to a "how" or "why."
My Popaw is humble. He's not afraid to say "I don't know."
My Popaw is candid. He tells it like it is and takes care of things. 
My Popaw has a tender heart and a deep love of God.
My Popaw is a worshipper.
My Popaw can fix anything.

Though my Popaw went home to be with Jesus a few weeks ago I don't like when people speak of him in the past tense unless they don't know the Lord. Popaw's existence did not cease. It only ceased here on earth and I know that is not the end for him or for me.
I sang at my Popaw's funeral. I honestly don't know how good it was or wasn't. I just know I was focused on just getting through and I did. I know that Popaw would think it was beautiful no matter how technical it was or wasn't.  I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to give of myself in that way.

A horseshoe hangs on a stained plaque next to my bed. A bunk bed for dolls that Popaw made is in the corner of my daughter's bedroom. A few tools that Popaw taught my husband to use rest in a closet. I see Popaw's handwriting on my tax returns, paperwork, etched into the back of a wooden plaque he made and I am thankful.
I'm thankful that I didn't have to say goodbye to my Popaw. I just said I love you and I know he knew that also meant see you soon. 

 At the end of my Popaw's burial service, a man approached me that I knew of by name, but not by face. He told me how lovely my singing was and how dear my Popaw is to him. Because of God and His work through my Popaw, this man, Paul Collins, will be in Heaven. Popaw set a couple of men aside in his heart and prayers when he chose to follow Christ. Those two men are now Christians and are leading others to the Lord.  This is the kind of legacy that I want to leave when my existence on earth ceases.

I have experienced more of the comfort and love of God in this time than I knew possible. While this has certainly been one of the most trying experiences of my life, it has also been one of the most spiritual. I hope that I can live out some of the legacy that Popaw leaves here on earth until I see him in heaven. I hope that I can grow into a woman that my daughter and one day grandchildren will have the opportunity to know as an adult and be touched by some of the legacy my Popaw left that lives on in me.

Mad

I am angry, mad, and frustrated. It's all coming out of hurt, but it's real. Our church family that I (we) desperately missed while in California doesn't seems like family right now. Out of sight seems to be out of mind. We asked for help. My ministry team leader hasn't showed concern or thought. We haven't been able to attend for upwards of 4 weeks because I've been too ill. Too ill for church, too ill for work, sicker than I've ever been in my life and alone. Alone and scared. Alone and sad. Alone with my anger. We are comforted so that we can be comforters. Are we not comforted so that we have a burden to comfort? Everyone's lives are very busy and I get that. But this isn't what I thought church was about. God, what will you teach me in this?
I want to lash out. I want to send scathing emails or make contact to say thanks for nothing. I know in that the truth is that I just want someone to care. I've always known I'd never be someone with involved parents, but I've always looked to fill that place. The void is bigger than ever at a time when I'm an adult getting ready to be a parent myself.
Should we be looking for a church closer to home? Is 25 minutes too far of a drive for people to stop by? Does 25 minutes constitute a long distance call? I'm so angry. So hurt. I don't want to make a decision out of that, but I do need resolution to come of it. What's right in this? Is it arrogance to think that people should care? That people should come? We haven't been able to be in a Life Group the last half of this semester, but we were in one. Jeremiah's work schedule is different for spring and summer until Eggshell opens and that's okay. I don't want to hear that we're not committed because we're not in a Life Group. We participate in workdays, help out when we can, and are financially invested in the church and in God's work. It feels a little empty right now.

Need a drink

This is an interesting time in my life. I'm pregnant. I'm scared because this isn't what we planned but reassured because this is what God planned. In this time of feeling sick and kind of left alone by God I need a drink, not so much a gin and tonic, but a refreshing of my soul and spirit. I need Jesus to come sit at the well with me and tell me something new about me or about life or about Him. I feel like I'm standing still as I'm expanding. I feel dry even though I know God is with me. I know I need to rest in His presence and in His peace, but I need something more today. I don't know what pushing through or breakthrough looks like right now. Jesus, please show me. Please quench my thirst and sit at this empty well with me.

Not out of the woods.

So, I saw the doctor yesterday evening. I am due November 7, 2011. I'm 6 weeks and 3 days today. We went to the hospital when I was having some bleeding and discomfort. Everything seems to be okay, but it's early so I'm not quite out of the woods. We're going to figure out the financial side of things today and Friday I will see the doctor again to make sure everything is progressing. I saw the little tiny peanut with a heartbeat! Eek!
In the awkwardness of about 20 minutes of legs spread in the stirrups during the ultrasound etc. I started to ask her if she was a fan of Friends. I started reliving out loud the episode where Rachel is pregnant and can't see the baby on the ultrasound but keeps pretending that she can because she doesn't want Ross or the ob to think she's a bad mom. I'm pretty sure I saw the peanut, and can't believe it's real. I'm still reserving my feelings either way since it's so early, but I'm sure it's in there.

embracing unexpected change

We're heading into new seasons in our lives. Lots of career changes and life changes. I feel like God is beautifully preparing us as we fall headfirst into all these new things. Jeremiah's new restaurant, Eggshell Bistro, will most likely be opening in September and I have some new things on the horizon also. This year is going to be a lot different than we expected when we moved into it, but I know that God is faithfully leading us and our prayer is to be steadfast in following.
I have struggled with all my schedule changes to make time with Jesus. That should be first and foremost, but these hours are killing me. This week, I am deciding to make it a priority and to follow through with that diligently. It's so beautiful to be home and I'm so glad we're here for this new season in life. Thank you Jesus for having a plan that's better than mine.

Anxiety

Since we've moved, I've really struggled with anxiety. I've recognized a tendency towards it in the past and stuffed it down, covering it with other things, laughter, food, running away from the root of it. Here I am, alone a lot, and forced to face it. There's not much to cover it up here in California. This dark valley seems to cast light on the darkest parts of me while the rest remains shadowed. I feel imprisoned by myself. I've grown, I've learned, I've lost, this year, but I've refused brokenness. Jesus has asked to wash my feet, asked for my humility, asked for my submission, and it's uncomfortable and I keep trying to cover up my entire exposed self with a washcloth.

Today, I like Peter, will allow Jesus to wash my feet, to be deeply intimate with me, to point out the dirt, not only on my pinky toe, but the dirt that covers the soles of my feet, the dirt that is in between, the dirt that makes me brown instead of the untouched white that I am once He has washed me.

Okay, Jesus, clean me up.

Here we go...this time I really mean "we"

Recently my life has been sort of a crazy mess. There's too much going on and I'm afraid to just live in my passion...I'm not good enough, educated enough, don't look the way I "should." I have been watching Jeremiah live his passion, strive for it furiously, work on it diligently, and I'm standing by watching. I'm not sitting down at the keyboard. I developed a kind of fear of it, of pouring my soul out, fearing its contents. When I look at it I see something I want, but can't have, kind of like a new roller coaster with its colors, its screams of enjoyment, and unexpected nature. What if I like it? What if I want off? Have you ever done that? Have you ever gotten on a ride and then gotten off before it starts? I never have, I'm too afraid of what people will think. I've been avoiding the long lines on the big ride for fear I'll want off and then what would people think? I'm ready to stand in line with open ears to the creator, with open heart to what I can't plan, what I have to let go of in the way of control. I'm getting in line today. I won't get off or only halfway give myself to it for fear. I'm ready, I'm broken.

Brandon Cannon and I were talking the other night about the pressure to be good at all kinds of things. I don't care about those other things. God will still use me, but that's not what I am created for. I am created for music for worship with reckless abandon. I am going to get completely back to my Levitical mindset and strive for intense concentration and practice, excellence for the God who made me for the purpose. I'm going to start taking the opportunities and not expecting I can't live up to it. I can because that's how I'm made, fearfully and wonderfully. Fearfully of the God who formed me, who knows me intimately who pours my tears out of my eyes because they pour out of his in empathy, not sympathy, empathy.

I've been fighting this since I was young, since I was forced to sit for hours repeating to her that I couldn't sing. I couldn't sing. I couldn't sing. It stopped hurting after a while, but it bound me for years. I think I am breaking free of that today. No, I am breaking free of that today. She has no power over me. God is the only One with power over me. Here am I, Lord. Send me.

My family thinks I'm good. They think it's nice, but not a vocation. I know deep down in my God shaped hole that it's all I can do. There's still that painful see through space when I'm not writing, not singing, not playing, and not learning more of it, tuning it, grasping it, living it and living it for God. I can't be broken like this unless I give up everything, not in the sense of giving up my husband, my dog, my home, but in the sense of just knowing my time is not my own. This selfish outlook and agenda to do "God's work" is not what stirs me. God stirs me in the depth of that space. God stirs me when I am in a room whether there are other people or there are not, I let go, I let it fly, I feel it, I'm not afraid of it. My music is the Lord and I'm quenching him with fear.

No more.

In the midst of all this, God's been stirring my heart and yesterday under unfortunate circumstances he broke me. Here I am sitting on the couch writing furiously, crying my eyes out, something I am not even comfortable with alone, and singing with the broken pieces broken just the right way. How do I forget how much I love this brokenness, what the Lord does with it in my heart?
I seek to remain broken, to remain open, and to let God have my passion, my pride in my own agenda, and do the scary crazy artist stuff that I love to be afraid of. I want that see through space to be filled with the pain of Jesus, the comfort that music brings, and with none of me.