do good.

One morning when I was in third(ish) grade, my Daddy drove us to school.  Against the backdrop of Scotty Rhodarmer on WWNC, Daddy slowed his car down to offer help to a man walking along the road with his young son.  Now, where I went to elementary school, people did not just walk along the road.  Daddy knew there had to be some reason this man- and his son- were walking... as he noted to me that there had to be another reason they didn't have on coats.

Daddy offered to take the man and his son to school.  The boy, my brother, and I were dropped off, and quite honestly, I don't remember to this day who he was.  I'm not sure if he was a kid I ever saw again, or he was one of the "big" kids who I didn't know.  Or, maybe it was one of you.

After dropping us off, Daddy found out that the man's car was broken down (hence the walking along a non-walking-friendly road) and he couldn't afford to have it fixed until payday.  He told Daddy that times were tight and he was trying to make ends meet.  This was not a cry for help- he was merely telling his story.

But Daddy wasn't just a listener... he was a do-er.

As they stopped for coffee, he called his office and told them he wouldn't be in that day.  They first went to a garage where the man arranged for his car to be towed and repaired.  Then Daddy took him shopping.  The man (humbly) accepted Daddy's offer to provide a coat for his son, but Daddy didn't stop there.  He outfitted both the man and his son (against the man's arguments), then treated the stranger to lunch.  After lunch, he returned the man to the garage to pick up his repaired car.

And then he went on his way.  To the best of my knowledge, he never spoke to this man again.  (But we all know that man heard more than enough Stan Stories during those hours together to last him a lifetime!)

He did not do this act of service as a way to get "credit".  He did not do it for any repayment.  He did not do it for praise... in fact, he's probably angry at me that I told you all that story just now.  He did it because he did good.

He loved people, and he loved them well.

He taught me how to love people... and reminded me of my "mission" each time we spoke.  No matter whether in person or on the phone, we always left our time together with an "I love you.".. then he always followed that up with "Do Good."

As my heart has ached these last 3 months with the loss of my Daddy- these words keep coming back to me.  I'll interrupt myself to give you all an update on how I'm doing in that regard... it's hard, y'all.  There is not a day that goes by that I don't end up in tears.  As I watched my parents grieve when my grandparents died, I (morbidly?) wondered what that would "feel" like when it was my turn.  And I'll tell you... I had it all wrong.  The sadness is constant.  The pain is always just below the surface.  My heart is both raw and numb with hurt.  Yes, life is going on... but it is always tempered with this nagging of something being "different."

In that same vein, the only time that I feel "normal" is when I am doing good.  When I get outside of myself to care for the needs of others... that's when I feel okay.  That's when I feel like I'm going to make it.  And that's when I know that I am made that way because that's how my Daddy raised me.

One of my fears is that with his death, many people will suffer from not having his "good" done in this world.  In fact, the night before he died, he rode his lawnmower up to his neighbor's house (without asking) to mow her yard.  No thanks were needed- he just raised his hand to wave at her as he finished up and headed back down the hill.  Who will do that now?  Who will decided to take the meals to the people up the street when their family won't be there for Thanksgiving?  Who will buy the coat, the meal, the car repair for the man who desperately needs it?

And then it hit me... I will.  You will.  We will... together.

Join me as I honor my Daddy's life and venture into a cooperative movement to "do good."  This is not a "pay it forward" concept in the sense that once you "do good", you're done.  This is a way for you to reach out to those around you and share love as you take care of those in your life.

Over the next few weeks, I'll filter through this website, through Facebook, and through a new site several ways that you can focus your good works.  I'll offer some products you could use to create gifts that provide moments of hope... cards, mugs, bags, Rwandan pens, etc.  Through your own stories, we'll restore some peace in this world as you share with us all how your life changes as you "do good".

Here's the beauty: any money raised through the items sold will go to fund more "good" in this world.  Together, we'll put some much needed items in the pediatric oncology unit at Baptist Hospital.  We'll send support to some widows in Kigali.  We'll use our resources- collectively- to make some big things happen.  And individually, your "good" efforts will bless those in your own spheres.  Everyone wins.

I can't wait to share with you the stories of hope.  I hope you'll join us.  I'll post products as soon as the website is finished- look for it the first week in July.  But this weekend as several of us join hearts in Asheville to honor Daddy's life... I hope we'll remember the good that he poured into us all.  And I hope that we won't stop there- I hope that we'll, in turn, do good.

He'd like that.

Daddy meeting E for the first time

The Daddy I grew up with

The Daddy I knew best

Dadaw, E, Alex, and Nanny

Hope and Change.

Today was a big day for my family.  Miss E and I met the Vice President of the United States.

I'm always a bit starstruck when I stalk meet famous people, but today's was super memorable.  E and I headed downtown after Art Camp for a treat and ended up spending 20ish minutes with Mr. Biden.  We were joined by some dear friends who (honestly) just happened to be walking/driving by when we arrived... a serendipitous moment if I've ever had one.

As we took picture after picture with the VP, (and, yes, E made fish faces in most of them,) I got caught up in the importance of that moment- that one small chunk of time.

I am certain that today was from the Lord.

Not just because I met someone who is part of an administration who I support... but because part of my heart that has laid stagnant for weeks months now was able to reignite.  The seconds before Mr. Biden came in were thrilling- watching the staff and Secret Service do their stuff.  Watching the manager at Wolfie's learn that her store was about to hit the big time.  Watching my friend shake hands with the Vice President after telling him he (my friend) had recently become a US Citizen...

It was good, y'all.

And it gives me hope.  Hope that part of my heart is not stagnant permanently.  Hope that moments of joy and excitement will seep into my days.  Hope that I will be able to tell stories with exuberance of the good things in my life.  And knowing in it all there will be change.  Change that I can't share these moments with some of the people most dear to me.  Change that some moments in my life won't get celebrated by the people who taught me to tell the stories.

There is hope and there is change.

And in them both there are blessings.

Memorial Day

Like a ton of other Americans, I don't give proper attention to Memorial Day.  I always usually take time to pause to try and think about the true meaning of the day... but (again) like a ton of other Americans, the day rushes by me in a "Welcome to Summer" kick-off rather than it's intended purpose.

This year is different.

This year, at 12:00am (on the dot!) of Memorial Day, I did some online shopping.  I bought a case for this flag:

My Daddy was a veteran.  We talked about his service throughout my life, but not to the extent that I totally grasped what he did.  He told more stories of what it was like hanging out with his Army buddies than of his duties... but I know his service changed him.

Now, like so many people across our country, I have this flag in my home (soon to be in my brother's) as a "thank you" for that service.

It's humbling.  And though my Daddy didn't lose his life while he was serving, he was a veteran.  For that, I am thankful.

I'm proud to be his daughter.

In memory.

a life of intention.

Less than 40 days after losing my Daddy, another one of my heroes is gone.  Wednesday night after Small Group we got another one of "those" calls... the calls that change your life.  Geoff... whose name you never heard me say without saying "...and Nicole".... died unexpectedly while heading up a basketball game with some friends from work.  That story is not mine to tell, but what I can tell you is about my friend, Geoff.

Geoff lived with intention.  He loved out loud.  He truly brought out the best in everyone around him.  Someone said at his funeral yesterday that "you hope you like yourself half as much as Geoff likes you"... and that is so true.  His laugh was genuine and contagious, and lawsy, he liked to eat.  We loved sharing meals with the Kugels because Geoff always appreciated good food... but he cared for the fellowship more.

Nicole and I met sometime around 2005 when our church did a discipleship focus called "Build".  Nicole and I ended up in the same Build group because of our crazy schedules- I was working at the Ronald McDonald House then.  The two of us- and a third friend, Kathy- got to know each other as we spent time growing together in our understanding of scripture late at night at Starbucks.  We memorized passages together, prayed, laughed, and began to weave our lives together.  Soon after that time, Geoff and Nicole began attending another church, but our lives were already committed to one another.  We walked through a time of mourning as we were still infertile, as her Mom was suffering through cancer, as Mary was diagnosed... then we rejoiced at Elizabeth's birth just months before her Mom went to be with the Lord.  We asked them to covenant with us to raise our daughter- as we saw in them qualities we wanted in our child before they were even parents themselves.  That fact became magnified as their son was born, and again just a year ago as they added a sweet baby girl to their lives.  By this point, "Geoff and Nicole" were stuck with the Johnstons... and we were blessed to be stuck with them.

The stories that poured out at Geoff's funeral yesterday were funny, precious, and poignant... and they all pointed back to Jesus in Geoff.  As we left the church, Dan looked at me through tear stained eyes and said, "that is exactly what you would want people to say about you when you are gone."  No truer words have ever been said- to live a life of intention... to live a life of purpose... to live a life of love... to live a life of Grace--- that's what Geoff did.

And that's why this pain hurts so much- with losing Geoff and losing Daddy- both of them lived big.  Both of them made you feel loved and cared for and like you were the most important person they knew.  They showed favor to those around them.  They put others' needs before their own.

I want to live like that.

In the days to come as the Lord brings Nicole to your mind... pray for them.  The pain rushes in at unforeseen times... I cannot imagine my world without Geoff, so I can't fathom what hers will be like.  But don't just pray.  Act.  Love those around you.  Treat someone to lunch.  Mow your neighbor's grass.  Send someone a card.  Scratch the back of your loved one.  Open the door for someone else.  Carry someone's groceries... shoot... buy someone's groceries.  Send that email you've meant to send.  Buy a friend a treat for no real reason.  Loan someone a good book.  Go swing at the park.  Get to know the name of the person who makes your coffee.  Support local businesses.  Walk downtown.  Call your brother back.  Color with your kids.  Order several different varieties of drinks at dinner... splurge a little.  Go back to visit your alma mater.  Hang those pictures.  Do what you love... with those you love. Give.

Geoff did all that.  Daddy did all that.  I saw it... and it changed me.  The pain is bigger because they were bigger... and while the pain of losing them aches, it pushes me to respond.  I want to be "Geoff" and "Daddy" to those around me.  I want to make a mark on the world in that way.  I want my response not to be fueled by grief... but by wanting to show a tangible love to a hurting world.

Let's commit together to "do good".

Name it and claim it.

I hate the so-called "prosperity gospel".  I do not serve a God who blesses you because you do something.  I serve a God who blesses you because He is good... and He loves you.  So when I hear the whole "name it and claim it" mumbo-jumbo... my hackles are in a tizzy from that first moment.

But, as in most things, there is an ounce of truth amidst the crazy.

And recently I have been part of that goodness.

Last year, my word was "peace".  I prayed "peace" all over my days.  I prayed peace into the lives of others.  I worked hard to make my life something that would leak peace into those around me.  And I still do.

Those who know me well have joined me in my quest to cover my life and home with "peace"... I have received gifts and words over the last 16 months very focused on the word "peace."

So it was a logical jump that a friend use that word to explain my Daddy's death to her almost-3 year old. 

When Daddy died, I texted my friend- something that 6 weeks ago I never imagined I would do, sending life-altering news in a text.  Who would do that?  I'll tell you who... this girl.  In those first hours of confusion and anguish, I reached out to those around me with a quick line or two about what had happened so that they could rush on my behalf to the Throne of Peace... as I was unable to find my way.  My sweet girlfriend received that text in the presence of her son... and realized she had to put words around her shock and grief.  Words that he would understand- especially as they had not yet had to talk about the abstract and concreteness of "death".

In a moment of Momma-wisdom, she gently explained to young W that Miss Becky really needed peace, and it was their job to pray peace for her (me).

Beauty.

That family, like so many others around me, prayed that prayer... and I have been the recipient of peace.

Now, I will fully admit that I don't understand how prayer works.  But I know it does.  And I know that God hears the prayers of those who love Him... and loves the prayers of children.  So, win-win for me- they pray it, I get it.

But the biggest blessing- to me- in all of this is the lesson that my friend has taught sweet W.  Because every time he sees me, talks to me, hears about me, he asks his sweet Momma if I have gotten more peace.  He is now part of the bigger picture of the inter-weaving of this world and the eternal.  As he is on the earthly look-out at my life and my quest for peace, he is at the same time reaching his precious little hands toward heaven on my behalf.

He has named it, and both of us have claimed it.

Beauty.

And that makes it well with my soul. 

Peace to you, and to sweet W.

It Is Well With My Soul.

In September of 2009, I asked Mary what verse/thought/words were giving her something to cling to as she was undergoing chemo and radiation.  By this point, I knew she was weary... but for those of you who were lucky enough to know her, you knew her spirit and resolve to carry on.  She responded to me in an email (on 9/9/9 I just discovered!) with these words:

Favorite Hymn:  It Is Well With My Soul  (especially love the last verse:  "And Lord haste the day when my faith will be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll...the trump will resound and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is well with my soul."

She'd also listed a couple of lines of scripture she liked, too, so I let it roll around in my mind to think about what words I wanted to put on a bracelet to give her.  I'd recently seen my Aunt's bracelets (the rubbery "Livestrong" kind) that her friends had made for her during her own fight, and just knew Mary needed some.

That Sunday at church, my sweet friend Debbi stood up to announce to the church she would not be going back to China as a missionary as previously planned.  She, too, was now entering the fight with breast cancer.  Actually, her husband announced it.  When he finished with the nitty-gritty of their story, Debbi came forward to the microphone and said "It is well with my soul."

Um... wow.

I came straight home and ordered 200 of these bracelets for Mary... and now, for Debbi too.

I will never forget giving them to Mary- sitting on the couch together, Daddy was sitting in "his" chair.  It was rare with the two of them that we were that serious- our family was constantly making jokes.  But as I told her why I printed those words (and now the connection to another fighter) and the tears flowed, she and Daddy were speechless... but I remember both of them taking their bracelets and immediately putting them on as we hugged and cried.

The bracelets were spread worldwide.  Our families and friends wore them.  I gave one of mine to someone working at Downtown Disney after it sparked a conversation.  One of mine was given to this sweet girl in Rwanda.  With every bracelet I passed out, there was a blessing of grace given.  Seeing those bands of pink not only made me smile for the message that was being passed, but it was a way to calm my heart and center it back on those words... and try to make it well with my soul.

 beauty in Rwanda

In late January, our sweet friend Leah was diagnosed with leukemia. The morning her mom was taking her for first appointment in Oncology, she stopped by our house on her way to the hospital and I popped one of those pink bracelets on her wrist.  A week later it hit me- it's time to order more bracelets.  Over the 2+ years I had the others, people loved sharing them with friends... and we'd run out!  So we knew it was time to add more "it is well"-ness to our lives. 

I asked Leah's mom for her blessing... and also asked what Leah's favorite color was (purple!) to give new life to our favorite bracelet.  I also checked with Daddy- I didn't want a color change to appear that I was somehow "moving on" from Mary... immediately he gave his blessing to the rebirth of the bracelets.  I vividly remember at our last lunch on March 22 him asking when we'd get them in and telling me he was going to start wearing a purple one with pride.  (He called constantly for updates about Leah... in fact, the last time I heard my Daddy cry was when he talked me to about Leah- and Mary- losing their hair.)

 Sweet Leah enjoying a strawberry fresh from her garden yesterday morning

Then March 25th happened.  My world changed.  I won't lie to you... it was not really well with my soul.  At all.

But that's the beauty of those bracelets.  Wearing those words has become a reminder to me... an anchor, even... on the days when I don't feel it.  Or when it's not really well.  Or when it's hard.... it's a reminder that I have to choose to make it well with my soul.  Even so it well with my soul. Even so.

Even So when Mary loses her fight with cancer.... because she gets to be with the Lord and be healed.

Even So when my Daddy dies unexectedly... because I had 36 beautiful years of him pouring into me.

Even So when a wee one is sick... and we don't know what's next... but we know God is good.

Even So in the miscarriages, the rejections, the fights, the wounds, the broken friendships, the painful words, the lost jobs, the life changes... 

And Even So in the blessings!  The marriages, the new babies, the adoptions, the attachments, the new friends, the beautiful spring days, the promotions, the hope of tomorrow...

One last thing... I found this when digging through my email archive... words taken from Mary's Facebook page.  This was her status update on October 15, 2009- I copied the words to send in an email to Dan.

Mary Waldrup 

One can never have too many prayers when those 'sea billows roll' and I must thank my step-daughter, Becky, for the bracelets which invite others to pray for me. The bracelets are inscribed with the title of my favorite hymn, "It Is Well With My Soul." Follow this link to one of the best versions of this hymn available on You Tube.

I'm wearing my new purple bracelet with joy to remind me of all of this.  To remind me of Mary, and Debbi, and Daddy, and Leah... and hope.

  

It is well with my soul.

we interrupt this grief...

Today has been good for my soul.  Not in a "everything is fine" way, because it's not.  But in a "thank you, God, for blessings along the way."

I started my day with one of my favorite people... we shared coffee and grief... and even a couple of laughs.  Her precious daughter is the one I've mentioned on here before... the sweet 3 year old with cancer... and you'll get to hear more of her story on here next week.

On my way to visit another friend in the midst of her own storm, I got a call from my cousin who was just down the road trying on a Mother of the Bride dress.  I ran by the shop, saw her looking lovely, and even got to hug the bride and groom who are in town doing wedding stuff.

I came back to pick up E early from preschool and we headed to the elementary school she will attend next year- today was Kindergarten Assessment.  E was assessed by one of my precious friends (who happens to be an amazing teacher there) who took time to love on both of us in the middle of our yucky stuff, but who focused on E being Kindergarten-bound and not just the yucky stuff.

E joined one of her favorite gal pals for a playdate at the gracious offer of a friend and I ate lunch by myself ... even with my shoulders a little relaxed.  I had a quick visit from a friend bringing us dinner for tomorrow night, then tackled cleaning our kitchen.  Gosh, it feels good to see results... and my kitchen smells yummily clean, too.

Dan will be home soon and is taking E to the library to pick out their next chapter book- they read together each night and then they see the movie/watch the play/enjoy however the book has been adapted.  I love our local library like I love our local post office... two of the things I truly enjoy about our precious town.

I hate, hate, hate this new space I'm in, but I love how God continues to show His favor and blessings in the midst of it all.  I've seen more aspects of His love for us as my heart has been changed to "feel" more for the pain around me.  If I have "felt more" because of this... how much more does God "feel" for us because of His giving up His own son for us? 

I love how I feel His love for us through people around us- both our "inner circle" and those from afar.

I love how I grin every time I get a call from a friend (who calls almost daily) when I hear her voice say "I'm just checking on your white a$$."  I love that, partially because that's the kind of thing Daddy would have said... and partially because she's been consistent to call.  I'm seeing more of the need to love people consistently (that is not a passive aggressive cry for more calls, btw)... and how to be God's hope to those who need it.

And I love the interruptions of grief.  The playdates, the shopping, the coffee dates, the clean kitchen, the moments to just be.  I love them.  And I know that soon, it won't be an interruption... it will be what we call "normal".  God promises to heal my hurt- not to make me forget... but to help me with the new normal of my days.  I am thankful for His promises... and I'm learning to make it well with my soul.