retreat.

the inn at half-mile farm (highlands, nc) 2002

"...He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul..."

Psalm 23:2-3

re·treat (rĭ-trēt') n.
- The act or process of withdrawing;
- A place affording peace, quiet, privacy, or security;
- A period of seclusion, retirement, or solitude.

until this moment in my life, i've always considered retreat a form of defeat, a reactive less-than-mature inward turn when faced with something painful or difficult. as someone who was on the run for most of her life, the last thing i want to do is run away... and yet, at times, running away is all i've wanted to do. this has been one of those times. instead, the Lord firmly presses His truth onto my heart, the very first verse i ever truly felt Him speaking to me: "Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)

being still is not something that has ever come naturally for me. i have been an overtly social, hyperactive, talkative busybody since my preschool days. i have spent a lifetime building and maintaining relationships with so many people from so many different places and seasons of my life. throughout the last year and the new found freedom in Christ, it was the first time in my life that i felt as though i had nothing to hide, no gaping holes to cover. perhaps it was because i felt i had nothing to hide that i felt so comfortable - and so compelled - to simply share everything. all of me.

i realize now, it was all too much. i have spread myself too thinly across, allowed too many people into my life, made erroneous decisions in whom i could place my trust in and in doing so, placed myself in an extremely vulnerable position: one that left me wide open for a devastating and crushing blow to my spirit.

and so, i am taking a retreat. . .

not from the non-negotiables in my life like my family, my job, my college course load, my small group, my church... but from the blogging and facebooking, the perpetual sharing and baring all aspects of my life with people who aren't truly a part of my life. i have four hundred and eight-two friends on facebook. four hundred and eighty-two people who have a virtual window into my life. the thought occured to me that some of these people i wouldn't know [or desire] to speak to if i ran into them at the grocery store and yet they have access to know everything about me and my life. literally, my whole life. photographs of my friends; photographs of my family; my children; a link to my blog. suddenly, that thought was overwhelming to me... and i deactivated my account. i don't know for how long, but at least until i have the time to go in and delete at least four hundred or so of my not-so-close "friends"....

retreat, by definition, is not forever. it is a period of time. a season. a season in which i hope to learn how to balance sharing my life and my faith and my heart while maintaining a sense of self that cannot be so easily shaken and broken; and one in which i look forward to lying down in figurative green pastures and beside figurative (and literal) still waters. and find rest in the peaceful quiet of a place that i have never truly known: solitude.

i will not stop writing. or seeking. or living. i can't stop any of those things because all of them are things that occur in my life without my choosing them. i will only stop sharing; and only for now. this is my retreat, but not my defeat.

in Him, Nadia

sticks and stones.

sticks and stones may break my bones

but words will never hurt me break my heart.

i received an email yesterday filled with words sticks. and stones. all hurling towards my heart., inscribed with words like: disloyalty. dishonesty. pridefulness. materialistic. deceived. unchanged:

"You are very intelligent ... and are more than capable of saying and writing all the "right" things. Whether they truly penetrate your heart and change you and keep you on His path is another thing. I think for the most part ... they only serve to inflate your ego of who you continuously and very loudly proclaim to be in Christ."

it's been nearly two years since i began blogging and writing again. i had loved writing in the earlier years of my life and it, along with many other things, got lost along the path i had chosen for my life. i spent so much time constructing the exterior of my life and with it, a beautiful facade for all to see, that i had completely lost sight of... well, everything. i was a miserable, empty shell of person who lacked authenticity, if not identity. i had so many people in my life, maintained so many friendships and relationships and yet all of them remained superficial, lacking the depth of true intimacy. i was afraid to share who i really was and in many ways, it was because i didn't know who i really was.

i couldn't have known when i started blogging what God had planned for me or for my life or what the pages of this blog would become. i wrote purely for the sake of writing and was initially, reluctant to share it because i was concerned it would affect my transparency or that i would use it as a futile attempt to manipulate others' perceptions of me. instead, it became an outlet, and my heart flowed out through my fingers. even in the year prior to the Lord working such a miracle in my own life, i had already begun to pour myself out in ways i had not ever before. i was a mess. my life was a mess. i still am. it still is. i have never attempted, or desired, to deflect from that truth.

i have no idea how many sets of eyes look at the pages of this blog. whether it is a handful or scores, it matters not. i have never written a single word with the intent of trying to proclaim that i am anyone or anything other than a completely wretched and broken woman who has experienced, by the grace of God, mercy, love and redemption beyond what my human heart can comprehend.

every single time i sit down to write, it is never with the intent to convey a particular message to anyone. the cybershelves of this blog have, over time, become an online journal where i have poured out and shared, without reservation, whatever the Lord pressing on my heart TO ME. FOR ME.... for me. i pray, with all of my heart, that i have not ever attempted to persuade anyone into thinking that i have this thing figured out or that i walk this path with steps filled with prideful self-confidence because i don't. because i can't. there isn't any hope for any of us to live authentic lives or have an authentic relationship with the Lord apart from our willingness to admit that we cannot, ourselves, do anything.

and so, my only LOUD proclamation is this, the same that Paul wrote to Timothy: "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all." (Tim 1:15)

my words. my life. my blog. it is not my intent with any of these things to share - or proclaim - anything about who i am, but simply to share a glimpse of who HE is and of this awesome, miraculous, thing He has done - and is STILL doing - in my heart and in my life.

i do not have a message or even a hope of walking this 'narrow path home' in perfection; my only message is one of hope. hope that is found from walking it with Him and allowing Him to pick us up when we stumble, when we fall, and when we run to Him bruised, bloodied and battered both by self-inflicted failures and by the sticks and stones of others. He does not offer us the trite phrases of consolation, but the promise of His word and of His redemption and of His love.

if there is this hope for me, there is this hope for anyone.

to everyone who has read the pages of this blog, that is the only message i have ever had to convey. and let me set the record straight in the event that i ever once indicated that i somehow "did this own my own": i did not choose this path. it was not because of anything i did that i am on this path. i did not "do the right thing" and choose Him. He chose me. i don't know why anymore than you do. but i DO know that it is only by His mercy, His grace and His awesome love that He delivered me and the words that i write, these words that you read, are merely postcards from the journey on which He has set my feet.

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths,

but only what is helpful for building others up

according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."
Ephesians 4:29

seasons change.

"There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance...

... and a time for peace".

Ecclesiastes 3

it has been a long, long winter. literally. figuratively.

i drove to school this morning under a cloudless sky. moon roof open. volume up. rays of sunshine brightly beaming all around me. it was the most beautiful morning i've seen in a long, long while. it was the first time i've felt the warmth of the sun on my face. it was a vivid, tangible reflection of the change stirring within me. a reminder that the long, cold winter is nearing the end. literally. figuratively.

i've had so much to write about lately. so many amazing conversations with the most amazing friends in my life about the awesome provision - and love - and grace - and mercy - that we have each experienced over the course of our lives and throughout the last year. i can't organize the words or thoughts to adequately describe the awe that i feel when reflecting upon the orchestration of His perfect plan or how grateful i am that His promise of redemption - of using everything in my past - for my good and His glory has come, and will continue to grow, towards fruition.

countless years of knowing how to say the right things and knowing how do the right things have been eradicated and replaced simply with knowing Him.

i took the first step onto this path late last spring. all of the previous seasons of my life prior to that moment now run together, blurry shades of gray between shadows and darkness. out of my bedroom window, spring was yielding way summer yet, within me God was calling me to a path winding through the midst of a winter season. one that was isolated and cold and at times, lonely. it was along that path, i first began to learn how to find refuge in Him alone, to depend on Him for my every step, to seek Him for my every need. i had lived a lifetime seeking fulfillment through people, places, things... and with each step, He showed me how fruitless my seeking had been apart from Him. in my humanness, i had lived a life in anticipation for what was next, my whole life's happiness always dependent up on something that was yet to come. yet, in that winter, i found my hope - my everything not it what was to come but in the One who was, who is, who is to come. i stopped longing for the seasons to change.

it began to happen before i recognized what it was. a shift in the wind. a shift in my heart. the scent of a new season. i could feel it and sense it long before i could see it. a new season was coming. pausing to look back, i see it all in a new light, brighter than sunshine. shattered pieces of my life a mosaic of His grace, reflecting the light from the sun that's bringing with it the warmth of spring. i take my shoes off and step onto the slivers of green grass. freedom. not from Him, but IN Him.

i haven't arrived anywhere in particular. i am not at some profound destination on the journey or on this narrow path home...

seasons change. but the my path remains the same. HE is my path.

"Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." Hebrews 13:5

this love.

"He heals the broken heartened,

binding up their wounds."

Psalm 147:3

i had a terrible bicycle accident when i was seven years old. admittedly, i never really mastered the whole bike riding thing - mainly because i was self-taught. i can remember riding up and down our street and instead of turning the handlebars when i needed to turn around, i'd panic and just let the bike fall over while simultaneously trying to jump off of it. lots of torn jeans and scraped knees later, i eventually figured it out. it was a saturday afternoon. i was visiting some friends from school. twins. karen & kathryn. they were identical, but one was a tomboy and the other was girly, which is completely irrelevant. i didn't have my bike with me so i'm pretty sure we were taking turns on the bikes, going up and down the street. i remember thinking what a great job i was doing, as if pedaling up and down the street were some great feat. wind in my hair, smile on my face. and then, that dreadful feeling that i was losing control. gravel. pothole. darkness. total and complete darkness. it was the only time i have ever been knocked unconscious in my life. i came to in their bathroom, the twin's poor mother panic stricken trying to clean the blood of my face. only i didn't immediately recognize her because i had no idea where i was. i had no idea who i was.

yea. life's like that sometimes.

there have been days, many days, since i took the first step on this path that i have allowed my attention to wander momentarily. caught up in the busyness of my everyday life, or the selfishness of my human nature, i begin to [foolishly] think i've got this part under control. in those blurry, busied moments my focus shifts and along with it, some undefined part of me shifts with it: from dependence on Him to self-reliance... and then, i "come to" - face down on in the dirt, having never seen the gravel or the sinkhole in my path.

i'm often reluctant to revisit my past postings for fear of painful reminders from where i have traveled. but then there are moments, like today, when in a quiet whisper i say, "Lord, I need to know you are still there". every word i have written becomes evidence of His presence, of His relentless pursuit of my heart and His unyielding love for me. for me. for me! this is the love that transforms lives. this is the love that calls us out of darkness and into light. this is the love that draws us to obedience and causes disobedience to break our hearts.

when i came home all bandaged and bruised from that bike accident, if i'd had a father waiting for me, i would've likely curled up in his lap. a father's love could not have prevented that fall, but the depth of his love certainly would have compelled me to run to his arms and helped heal those wounds.

yea. God's love is like that.

for me. for you. run to it.

"How great is the love

the Father has lavished on us,

that we should be called

children of God!

And that is what we are!"

1 JN 3:1

light of mine

"You are the light of the world.

A city on a hill cannot be hidden.

Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.

Instead they put it on its stand,

and it gives light to everyone in the house."

Matthew 5:14-15

i'm forcing myself to write. completely against my will, in much the same way i force myself to finish the laundry or unload the dishwasher. words and thoughts piled up, waiting to be pressed and folded, neatly organized and reorganized and put away. stored somewhere along the cybershelves of my blog. void of the typical poignant packaging. i've opened and closed this blog more times than i can count over the last two weeks and though my life has been moving at an even faster pace than usual, i find pieces of myself completely still.

i was completely paralyzed by earthquake in Haiti. unable to write. unable to think.

since that moment in late Spring of last year, i have experienced almost every facet of life in a completely different way: it as though i am seeing everything with new eyes; hearing everything with new ears; feeling everything with a new heart. i'm overtly emotional on birthdays and holidays. it's as though i had viewed the world through shades of gray; a grainy and silent black and white motion picture turned to high definition sound and color. in an instant - against the minuscule scale of my own personal life and the grand scale of humanity - the backdrop changed. along with everything else. one of my many perspectives that have been radically altered by His truth is this:

"The Great Commission is not an EITHER/OR option, but a BOTH/AND command. From cover to cover, the Bible teaches that all the church – not just select individuals, but all the church is created to reflect all the glory of God to all the world. We are all commanded and commissioned to make disciples of all nations. Each of us must Pray and Give and GO." ~ The Church at Brook Hills

i'd always felt foreign missions were for a few. you know, those who were called. the Lord didn't just change my mind on this, He changed my heart and just a few weeks ago, i turned in my paperwork for my first short-term mission trip. shades of gray transformed to technicolor.

witnessing, along with the rest of the world, the aftermath of a natural disaster was different, too. in the naivete of my youth unbelief, such tragedy would only fuel my doubts about the nature of God. in my humanness, i couldn't reconcile God and such tragedy. and frankly, i didn't try. it wasn't for me to understand His ways or question His sovereignty. but as i heard and watched and read the words and images from Haiti, those familiar pangs of fear and doubt were noticeably absent and in their place, an overwhelming compelling just to pray. there was but one thought that resonated in me. i didn't think it, but i felt it, and it was simply: God desires to pour out His spirit on the suffering that He might make Himself known. that isn't profound revelation, but biblical truth. for the people of Haiti. for me. for you.

for those of us fortunate enough to find refuge in our comfortable suburban cul de sacs, the veil is ripped. we pause, for a brief moment, to feel empathy, to pray, to give. and then our lives continue. and we stitch the veil back together with the threads of our everyday lives. for the most part - if not the whole part - we remain unchanged. we move on. because our lives move on. because we feel we have no choice but to move on. because everyone else is moving on.

but instead of moving on, i have been continually following the blog of one American family in Haiti who, living by faith, radically abandoned this life to live in radical obedience. in the aftermath of the quake, they did not flee, but set up a makeshift clinic. i have witnessed, through the words and actions of this family, more miracles in one week than most hear about in a lifetime...

and this is where my words become inadequate. details of my everyday life, my everyday walk, become trite. i am standing still and everyone else is moving forward. headlines are obscured with football scores and celebrity gossip. we move on. and yet, something inside of me remains unsettled. something feels inherently wrong with waking in the morning and selecting what clothes to wear. i am painfully aware of the privilege of my every move, my every possession. backing my car out of the driveway, pushing a button and watching the garage door close. children fastened safely in their seats. car rider line. traffic. even against my will, i am moving on with a part of my heart paralyzed - and that feels wrong, too. i can pray. i can give. but beyond that, in that moment - and all the ones that follow - i am helplessly inadequate. small. one of six billion. my own words and thoughts fade into obscurity - even from myself. i lose sight of what i'm writing. i lose sight of why i'm writing. i don't know what i'm doing. i don't know what i should be doing...

and then, out of nowhere - or out of somewhere, rather - i hear the faint whisper of my daughter singing, "This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/Let it shine/Let it shine/Let it shiiiiine." "Mommy," she says later, "i know what the little light is!". "What is it?", I ask. "It's Jesus in my heart!"

and so i write again. because it's what i do. because of this little light of mine.

"In the same way, let your light shine before others..."

Matthew 5:16

bridging the gap.

"Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar?

Where is the philosopher of this age?

Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

1 Corinthians 1:20-21

it has been an interesting (and entertaining) return to college for spring semester this week: i briefly contemplated buying myself a "UAB MOM" sweatshirt; i have a classmate who, in a senior level course, publicly referred to the Spanish language as "speaking Mexican". i'm studying alongside kids who were in junior high when i was a junior in college; i have a "communications" professor who has been married a half dozen times, literally: six times. the irony that this man is my guide into a deeper understanding of human communication makes me giggle. i opened my laptop earlier today to write a detailed, witty recap of these things and more, but by the end of the day, something much deeper had already begun to stir inside of me and though i could write a blog - or a book - about it, i was reminded that this college experience, even in its most entertaining moments, is not the central focus of my life. it's simply a part of it. one that will soon pass. only not soon enough...

being a full time student in my thirties provokes a lot of questioning: why i've decided to finish college, what i plan to do with my degree, what i want to be when if i grow up. i've learned to just shrug and smile, which seems to both insinuate and appease: it insinuates i, myself, have absolutely no idea what i'm doing (which, as we know, isn't completely false) and it's appeasing in the sense that people don't care anyway, not really. the real answer, of course, is both too ambiguous and too complicated. the answer is: i don't know the purpose, i only know there is a purpose... and whatever it is, its not about me. ((shrug)) ((smile))

this semester has also placed me face-to-face [in two classes] with a publicly professing non-believing professor who has "the religiosity of an old pair of shoes". most of the time, i find such blatant honesty refreshing. his disclaimer was so very disarming and nonchalant, the same way you'd imagine someone saying, "and, by the way, i'm not very fond of that shade of green" or "i like ketchup but not tomatoes". i'm certain this is because he has recited this phrase many times over the course of many years, prefacing the class with the promise of subjectivity; and the understanding that any discussions on anything related to Christianity are not aimed to either indoctrinate or undoctrinate. after all, we're studying language and human thought here.

atheism and agnosticism are commonplace in this realm it seems and understandably so: a man becomes so lost in his pursuit knowledge and wisdom (what Paul called the "wisdom of the world") that his intellectualism and understanding of the revelation of man increases, all the while his capacity for seeking and understanding the revelation of God somehow decreases. . .

"If our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. The god of this age [satan] has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:3-4

as he began his lecture, i began to feel strange, ongoing pangs of empathy for this man with an obviously brilliant mind. i heard the words that he was saying, but as the time passed - at the risk of sounding crazy - i also began to hear the words that he was not saying. much of the course, at least in the beginning, is focused on the writings of St. Augustine, who sought to dignify the intellectual foundations of Christian thought through his writings, defining language as something that is mental, rather than physical. but he spoke of Augustine with such passionate fascination it was hard to fathom how - in reading Augustine's plethora of works - he hadn't been persuaded. He spoke of his affinity for reading the King James Version of the bible because of its prosody; he referenced [the book] the Jesus Movement and made mention of his fascination and theories on how Christianity survived throughout the centuries. this was a man well versed in Theology and Manichaeism and Neo-Platonism and Eschatology and lots of other terms that i can neither pronounce or define.

still, nothing that he had said [out loud] warranted whatever it was that was welling up inside of me. but what he didn't say - and what i didn't hear, but could feel - was that this is not a man who has, lost in intellectual cynicism, boldly rejected Christianity as nonsense; nor is he the Lee Strobel who dedicated years of study to disprove Christianity and justify his own atheism. some inexplicable part of me felt that he was - and is still - a man desperately seeking truth - the truth that he holds in the palm of his hand. the truth that i carry in my backpack and keep on my nightstand. this is a man who is captivated and fascinated by a gospel that his mind cannot believe, but somehow, through words unspoken, seems to wish that it could.

oh, it was more than i could bare. i couldn't wait until class ended. i prayed. right there in my seat. eyes open. mouth closed. praying. for reason and understanding - for myself. how? why? that was it. two words.

the next thing i wrote in my lecture notes were these simplistic elements of communication:

sender. message. receiver. (yawn) right, learned that in the third grade. the professor then reverted to speaking in a foreign language for a few moments as an example and then paused to ask if anyone understood the message he was speaking. of course we didn't. he continued, this time in English:

"how? .... why?"... (didn't i just say that?) "the reason is that you have to have the capacity to bridge the gap between the sender and the
receiver".

my eyes welled up with tears in the midst of that crowded college lecture room as i turned the page and drew another simplistic illustration; and i felt the Lord whisper to me His own words of John 14:6 "Jesus answered, 'I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me ... [and only I can bridge this gap]":

"The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God,

for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them,

because they are only discerned by the Spirit."

1 Cor 2:14

oh, how long i stood where that stick figure stands, truth in my hand and void in my soul without the capacity for understanding. i prayed another prayer. not for me, for him. in all his inestimable knowledge, relentless seeking, had he not cried out these three words, i was now crying them out on his behalf:

bridge the gap.

if when i die...

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.
In my Father's house are many rooms;
if it were not so, I would have told you.
I am going there to prepare a place for you."
John 14:2

i have some news: i am going to die. oh, don't be so alarmed: so are you. it is, perhaps, the only certainty in life and yet, it's so taboo to speak of our own deaths that we refer to it as if instead of when. why is that?

i suppose we all have our own versions of our preferred, idealized deaths, most of which entail us being very, very old and gray and peacefully passing in a state of contented sleep with loved ones gathered around remarking what wonderfully full lives we lived and how it was simply "our time". i have no idea where we (or i) have conjured up this romanticized image from but, for as long as i can remember, it is the only manner in which death has seemed acceptable to me. everything else has seemed tragic and sad, not to mention monumentally untimely and unfair. . .

until now.

i love that the men Jesus chose to be His disciples were imperfect individuals just like us me. When faced with the news of Jesus' imminent death, they were wrought with grief and anxiety and lack of understanding in much the same way we are when we are facing the death of someone we love. in the verse above, Jesus is comforting them by urging them to TRUST Him. He can see the unbelief on their faces and I can almost hear Him saying to them, speaking very slowly and intentionally: "listen to me. believe me. believe what I am saying to you. If it weren't true, I wouldn't have told you... "

we live our lives in fear of death, dreading it both for ourselves and for those we love. we conjure up ways in which we can somehow prevent or escape it when - if we really believe what we claim to believe - i'm not sure why. there are a couple of inescapable tenants of this whole Christianity thing and one is that you have to believe Jesus. [note that i didn't say believe in Jesus. no, that's too easy.] Jesus wasn't urging his disciples to simply believe IN Him, He was urging them to believe the words that were coming out of His mouth... words like:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy;

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

i believe that both my life and my [physical] death are in the palm of His sovereign hand. when I die, regardless of the time and manner, i'd want others to believe that as well. don't get me wrong, i don't believe that He causes some of the things that we perceive as tragedy. but i do believe that He uses everything - including the free will of lost people, human error, and evil - according to His redemptive purpose. for years, i beleived IN Him; but now, i believe Him. because of that, i believe the words of Paul when he wrote, "We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord" and "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far". me too, Paul. oh, me too.

and while i'm thinking, writing, blogging about it i have a couple of candid observations/last wishes that i've already noted to my closest friends or family. you know, just in case. [my mother would be mortified that i'm actually "posting this on the internet", but better to have it here than scrawled on a piece of paper someplace, right?]...

1) close my casket. period. i do not want anyone "viewing" my dead body. we all know how this goes: people either walk away commenting on how "good" you look or how it "didn't look a thing like you". just put a big poster board of my smiling face up front if people need something to look at. you know something like this:

maybe someone can draw in one of those cartoon clouds where i'm thinking, "Yay! I'm in heaven!" or "Don't cry, I'll see you soon!". you know, something like that...

2) wooden casket. i know, i know. its not like i'd know the difference, but please don't parade my body around in one of those gaudy shiny metal boxes, even if they do come in pink.

3) please don't waste money on flowers. do an "in lieu of" to Compassion Intl or Lovelady Center. and for those flowers that inevitably come anyway, well, i've already assigned someone to hand pick every carnation out of every arrangement... just sayin.

4) if i die in an automobile accident, please do not decorate/erect a marker at the accident site. if you need decorate something, decorate my grave site - although, i'm not there either... and it had better not be one of those glow in the dark crosses.

that said, these are requests that - in the grand scheme of eternity - won't matter one iota. the vast majority of the time, requests as these are never honored because those left grieving have to do whatever it takes to comfort themselves. i experienced this firsthand when my step dad passed away. if it had been up to him, he would've likely wanted to be buried somewhere on his own property in a pine box. but in our grief, we doted on the spray of red roses, hand selecting the pine cones and branches that intertwined to give it a "rustic, wintry look"; we took time to decide on the tone of the wood, opting for the darker espresso rather than the lighter shade. we did those things knowing full well he would've detested all of it, even giggling at some points about how he would've fussed at us for "wasting money on his dead body". oh, he would've let my mother buy it all anyway, but the point is - funerals are not for those who have passed away, but for those who are left behind. and because of that, my only real request is this:

WORSHIP.

even, if not especially, in the midst of suffering and loss, we have a God who desires to bring glory unto Himself and who - in all things - is deserving of our worship and our praise. the bible says there is a time for all things: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to mourn and a time to dance. you can mourn later, but if when i die, WORSHIP.... and believe.

Praise the Lord.
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.
Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.
Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,
praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,
praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord.

Psalm 150