7.24.11

I live in Phoenix, Arizona. I am blessed to be a wife and a mom of two girls. I drive a minivan. I have amazing family and friends. I just unpacked all of my kitchen stuff from our home in Peoria. I put it all in a small kitchen in a thousand-square-foot apartment on a college campus.
My name is Katelyn Kieser.

It's been on year since Jordan Schroeder stopped walking alongside of me on this little stint of earth we have to live before the real living begins. It's been one year since my love got his promotion from mortal to immortal. From temporary to eternal. From decaying to more-alive-than-we've-ever-been. One year ago today, Jordan died.

I've been doing a lot of remembering lately.

I remember Jordan saying that I was one of his biggest spiritual influences. Shortly after he got redeemed, we met and the Holy Spirit in me encouraged him in his walk with the Lord. He told me that my scripture memory really challenged him and the discipline of hiding the Word in his heart stuck with him for the rest of his life. I remember him saying that's why he fell in love with me- my love for the Lord and my eternal perspective. You could maybe say, if you were wanting to measure things, that I was more spiritually mature than he. I was further along on the sanctification process. Somewhere along the way, that paradigm totally flip-flopped on me. I got slapped in the face with the love of God through Jesus in Jordan. I was his wife. I had the front seat to the Holy Spirit sanctifying him. I remember being in awe and at some point in our marriage verbalizing to him that God had him on the fast track and nobody had ever shown me Jesus like he did. He believed in the Spirit in me tirelessly. He unconditionally loved me despite my wicked, sinful heart. He encouraged me faithfully in the fight even when he was the one suffering the most from my sins. I was unbelievably humbled by his love that so uniquely modeled Christ's love for all of us. He had this tenacious hunger for the Bible, for Jesus, for the power of God in himself. It was like he was given this divine discontentment. He was always discontent with how much he had of Jesus- always wanting more. Even in the rough times, he'd be so honest about his discouragement but always end up reminding himself and me about how faithful God had been in the past and the promises of scripture. His gift of faith would come beaming forth and he'd speak so confidently and with hope oozing from his soul that God WOULD BE GLORIFIED in his life. He never wavered on his assurance of that fact. He never gave up hope. He had so many dreams. His natural vulnerability delighted and shocked me every time he'd start a conversation about our dreams. He loved to talk about it and I loved how ambitious he was about how much God was going to do in our lives. He really wanted to reach for the impossible and not sell ourselves short when our God was so huge! All these dreams- and yet, his biggest ream was God's glory in his life.

It's July 24, 2011. As I've journeyed through this day, remembering the early hours of Jordan revealing Jesus' desire for him to be in Heaven. Remembering the tenderness when we told each other how much we loved one another. Remembering the sweetness of Jordan speaking to our families. Remembering when Jordan prayed for me to love another man and released his exclusivity on my heart. Remembering how great was his desire for Jaycee and Arawen to have a daddy. Realizing the colossal amount of sacrificial love when he so willingly allowed us to receive the gift that Ty now is to us. Remembering how he anointed and blessed his two little girls. Remembering our fears and faith and our thoughts that we expressed in the blog. My dear fried Alison made our blog into a book for me. I took that book and Jordan's Bible and sat on a bench outside underneath a street light and a palm tree late last night and remembered. I've been remembering the tears. Remembering the tears brings more tears and I cry. Remembering the stabbing, searing, slicing pain in the middle of my chest for hours on end. The pain is piercingly memorable.

However, the most memorable and weighty thing that comes back to me is all the hope. The huge, ferocious, and tenacious hope we had. I wanted him to be healed so bad. I really, really, really, wanted that miracle. I ached and longed for and prayed and believed. I just really really wanted his body to be well. I wanted his pain to leave. I wanted his breathing to stop gurgling and rasping. I wanted his chest to stop being so heavy. I wanted his skin to stop being yellow and his ribs to stop showing through. I wanted It felt like there was a never-ending crescendo of an orchestra in the background of my heart. It was as if there was a buzzing tenor sound that kept getting louder, more intense, higher in its pitch. Seeming like it was going to peak at any instant, but just climbing ever higher in shrillness. We hoped hard. We hoped really hard! We hoped for a long, dark time. Even when he was in so much pain, it consumed us, we hoped. The hoping and the waiting continued to unrelentingly escalate.

Until that moment. He was lying on the hospital bed, laboring to breathe, peaceful, and he opened his eyes and spoke:
"I'm going to a better place."

And the hopes came shattering and disintegrating and falling down all around me. That fierce hope that had crescendoed louder and higher and faster over the last year got dashed. It was like this big, beautiful, and fragile crystal globe got flung against a cliff. And all of the million pieces, every last one, cut me on the way down. But inside that crystal globe was a diamond. Harder than the rock of the cliff, the gem remained undamaged. The diamond is God's glory. Beyond and above all of our beautiful and fragile crystal hope of marriage, and children, and ministry, and seeing God's miraculous power being displayed in us together, we had a bigger, and stronger Hope. We had Jesus. Go back and read his entries in the blog; Jordan hope and waited expectantly, nay even KNEW that God would be glorified in his life. And that was the diamond that never shattered. That diamond stayed intact and it remained beautiful.

Looking back, exactly one year from my hope-shattering, I see a sparkling and living and exquisite display of God's glory in Jordan Schroeder's life. The glory of God and the affect of Jesus in Jordan lives on in me. The Kingdom he sowed into my life will continue until my own promotion. I know deep in my soul that I will never be the same again and I will never forget. I will always remember Jordan and God's glory in him.

Jordan made a profound, impacting, and eternal stamp on my life. Now I want to hear about Jesus and God's glory in Jordan affecting your life. I want to see this beautiful diamond in a bigger scope and from different perspectives. I want a glimpse at the sparkles and the glittering rainbows that reflected glory to you. I want you to post a comment, tag me in a status update, or leave a guestbook entry with a few words describing God's glory in Jordan Schroeder's life in your own life. I just want to know. I want my girls to one day read all of your entries. I will collect them an put them in their photobook. I want them to have more than just my stories and their scant memories. I want them to have pages of testimony upon testimony of God's amazing glory in their Daddy in Heaven. I want the impact of Jordan's testimony to spur them on to fight the fight and run the race even when it's hard and hope runs dry. I want the glory of God in Jordan's life to do that for all of us. I want us all to remember together.

I found a note card in Jordan's Bible today. In his scratchy, all-caps writing it says:

Psalm 9:1-2
I will praise Thee, O Lord, with my whole heart: I will show forth all thy works. I will be glad and rejoice in Thee: I will sing praise to Thy name, O Thou Most High.

The top right corner has a date: 7-24-08

Three years ago today, Jordan wrote down a verse reflecting his own desire to make known God's works. Both Jordan and I have poured our hearts out here on this blog, and we all have had the privilege of witnessing God's works shown forth in Jordan's life. Please join me in praising the name of The Most High by posting a glimmer of Jordan's glory-diamond as we remember the amazing works of our God.

Thank you so, so, so much!

"God's Crazy Love Stories" As Told to My Girls

Dear Jaycee and Arawen,

You are amazing, extravagant, beautiful, and undeserved blessings from God! Do you know what a blessing is?

Jayce, remember the little drill that Papa-Boy always does with you?

“Jaycee, do you know what a blessing is?” he asks knowingly.

“A present from God!” you exclaim, grinning up at him.

He points decidedly right at you and declares, “YOU are a blessing!”

It’s true! You are our presents from God. God gave both of you to Mommy and Daddy and we could never be thankful enough. We loved you so much from the moment we found out you were in Mommy’s tummy. We were so proud of you and so, so excited and happy to be your parents. God gave you to Mommy and Daddy because He first brought us together. Your daddy wrote our whole wonderful, crazy love story down, and one day we’ll read it together. But right now, I want to tell you another story. Another crazy love story of God bringing two people together to glorify His name and bless them with two wonderful little girlies. Actually, I want to tell you two crazy love stories. One of them is the craziest of all.

Girls, remember when I told you that Daddy was in Heaven and he wasn’t coming back? Do you remember on that Sunday morning in July? We went outside to the backyard, walking towards the swing, and I knelt down, took you both in my arms, and with a trembling voice and a breaking heart, I unveiled your shattered little worlds. Jaycee, you cried and cried and Arawen, you looked from my face to Jaycee’s and whimpered and sucked your pacifier as you leaned into me. Jaycee, you wanted to know when we could see him again and if he was better. It was so amazing to tell you that Daddy was all better and his back and his leg didn’t hurt him anymore but it deeply wounded me to have to tell you that we wouldn’t see him until we were in Heaven too. You tried to argue that he was coming back and you were grasping for hope and reassurance and wanting Mommy to make it all right. But it wasn’t. And I couldn’t. And the pain intensified as I watched you tilt your head up in the middle of that big backyard and let out a long drawn-out wail. “I want my Daddy!” I remember a cry similar to that from when I was a little girl and I had lost my mommy in a store. It was a lost cry. My soul bled as I watched your soul express the lost-ness you were feeling. We cried and hugged. And then I pushed you both on the swing for a long time.

Jaycee and Arawen, the heartache I saw in you, the light seeping out of your eyes, and the way the devastation descended and surrounded you was nearly paralyzing to me. You know how I always tell you it makes me sad when you get hurt? Well, this was the most hurt you’ve endured and it made Momma really, really, really sad. Jaycee, a day later, exhausted and reeling from the trauma, you and I were lying down for a nap in A. KaraLea’s room. (Arawen, you were already sleeping in the pack ’n’ play.) You crawled in bed with me and asked me to read the Bible and tell you a story about your daddy. I pulled you into my chest and we read together and then you asked the inevitable heartbreaking questions: Why did Daddy die? Why is he in Heaven? Why can’t he come see us? When can we go to Heaven? I want my Daddy! I propped up on one elbow and searched your hurting face. I desperately wanted to impart some hope and felt called to try. I remember wrenching at the words that were coming out of my mouth, but knew I needed to give you a glimmer of light into your distress. So the words scraped off my tongue, “Jaycee, maybe one day God will give you a new daddy” I said softly. You searched my eyes and found only sorrow. “I don’t want a new daddy! I want MY daddy!” was your responding lament. So much for imparting hope; I let my head plop onto the pillow and just held you. But yet I knew that God would work and God would heal and God had not since, nor would He ever forsake us. Jesus was going to take care of us -Jaycee, Arawen, and Mommy.

Jaycee, one night, God used the preciousness of the present that you are and all the awe in me at being your mother, to capture my attention and tell me about a godly man named Ty. God told me it was okay to love him and placed a love for him in Mommy's heart. As the weeks crept by, you continued to be resistant to any mention of a new daddy. And, although Momma’s heart was tenderly being unfurled to love another, I was not discouraged by your persistent negative responses. I knew we still needed a lot of healing time and I was steeling myself for much patience with the whole impossible situation. I knew in my Spirit that when you started to become okay with my intermittent proddings towards praying for a new daddy, that would be an indication of God’s moving and timing. I remember the first time your resistance turned to reception. I was giving you girls a bath and it was the first time I decided to be intentional about bringing up the issue --all other times stemmed from your memories that turned into questions. This is what I wrote down from that night in your “Daddy moments” journal I keep:

9.13 While giving them a bath, I told them we were going to talk about getting a new daddy. I told them that he would play with them and wrestle them and throw them in the air. “Do you want that?” I asked. Jaycee said “Yeah” and Arawen said “Nope.” Jaycee then told me that Arawen didn’t want a new daddy so we asked her again. “Arawen, do you want a new daddy?” “Nope.” I talked to them about praying for a new daddy and that Jesus was going to give them a new daddy because our daddy is in Heaven and we don’t get to see him until our lives end and we go to Heaven too. She told me that there were two of her daddy, one was in Heaven, and she wanted the other one. I said there was only one and he’s so, so happy to be with Jesus and we’ll get to see him again. But for now, we’re going to pray for a new daddy.

That night, when Dad was talking about prayer and things that were good to pray for Jaycee said, “Pray for a new daddy.” Everyone laughed and Mom was like “Whoa….Katelyn, have you been talking to them?” I didn’t say anything but I definitely didn’t act embarrassed. It was true.

From then on, you’d ask to pray for a new daddy at bedtime. Arawen, you especially never forgot. I’d begin praying for you, and you’d unfailingly interrupt saying, “New daddy!” So I’d smile bitter-sweetly down at you in your crib and plead with our Father, “And God, give Arawen a new daddy who loves, loves, loves her and who loves, loves, loves You the most. Give my girls a love, love, love for their new daddy.” It was so cute the first time you looked up at me from your crib and said around your paci, “New daddy luh, luh, luh me!”

Girls, I want you to know that through this whole thing, Mommy was praying and praying and praying. I was praying for you and I was praying for Ty and praying for Mommy to keep looking to Jesus. It was a colossal thing looming over us -these were prayers about who was going to love you, who was going to protect you, provide for you, influence you, and show you Jesus for the rest of your lives and I was passionate about our story being undeniably a God thing. When you’re given amazing presents, you’re also given an amazing responsibility to steward those gifts. And remember, you are our presents! After I came home with Uncle Josh, Ty and I continued our unique, intermittent text-and-email interactions and it amazed me the way God had placed on him a burden to pray for you two and also used him to speak Bible into my life. He texted me Philippians 3:7-8 and whetted my appetite for the entire epistle. I read Philippians over and over and over, letting the Truth sink into me that everything but Jesus is garbage and that He loved us with a love so crazy that he obeyed His Daddy and died on the cross for us. When my friend-circles were going through major remodel as I limped along without my other half and my pain spilled over onto anyone that was close, it was incredibly humbling for Mommy to be given a friend that pointed me to Jesus during the hardest time of my life. God was surprising me with the unexpected again. He was whispering a challenge through the clouds of pain and confusion: You don’t think I can’t blow you out of the water again? You don’t think I don’t want to bless you out of your mind? Try me, and see what I can do with your ashes. I will make them beautiful! Girls, our Heavenly Father was taking care of us in the middle of all of our brokenness. He loves us so much!

Remember that wonderful vacation to Phoenix we took with Aunt Jill and Uncle Joshy at the end of October? ‘Uncle’ Ducky and ‘Aunt’ Christine opened their home and their hearts and showered us with love and a time of refreshing. We had such a great time, didn‘t we? It was then that Mommy talked to Ty. My prayer before we left was “God, I want to expect good and amazing things from You and I’m confident that You will bless this vacation, but I’m not going to say anything. The Holy Spirit is in Ty; if we’re supposed to talk, then he can start the conversation.” God blessed our time and Ty and Mommy had a couple of great talks. One in particular in which Jesus in Ty amazed me. He let me hear his passions and dreams, I got a glimpse of his heart for ministry and people and the Kingdom. My belief in Jesus in Ty was more cemented, and his vulnerability blessed me immensely. The next morning, I woke up with God gently tapping me on the shoulder again, convicting me, “He was vulnerable with you; you need to be vulnerable with him.” I called Grandma, and told her that I thought I was supposed to tell him, and she calmly talked me through everything and guaranteed her continued prayers. God changed my prayer to “God, if you give me the opportunity, I’ll share what you’ve been doing in my heart.” Three days later, Ty was spending the weekend at the Buam’s, Uncle Joshy decided he needed an all-day nap and an opportunity was dropped in front of me. It was so hard to obey, I was a millisecond from backing out, but with an extra burst of Holy Spirit courage, I asked Ty if we could talk. We still laugh at my extreme nervousness and the way I stumbled all over myself trying to prepare him for what I was going to say and finally blurting out: “I love you a lot... the end. I can leave now if you want me to." It was a little surreal- laying my soul that bare before someone I had known for merely three months. I couldn’t believe I was doing it while I was doing it and after I did it, I couldn’t believe I had done it. But it was an act of obedience. And as you girls well know, obeying isn’t always fun. I truly could not have imagined a more noble response from Ty. He wanted to clarify everything, forcing me to be deeply vulnerable, he was honest and clueless, revealing the fact that he had never considered pursuing more than a friendship with me despite how attractive of a person I was to him, which pointed to the great respect he had for Mommy and where God had us. He told me that he had had a dream a few years ago about being in the exact spot we were sitting in while two little girls were downstairs. (That was you, Jaycee and Arawen!) Jesus in Ty came shining forth, because as taken-aback and caught off guard as he was, to end our conversation, he grabbed both of my hands and prayed. He just gave it all to God right then and there on the side of the mountain we had walked up.

I don’t know about you girls, but this story kind of reminds me of a Bible story we read. Following our modern day Ruth and Boaz threshing floor incident, it was surprisingly not awkward. I had put my heart out there, but more than it breaking for Daddy and loving Ty, it still belonged to Jesus and it was safe with Him. I didn’t know what Ty was thinking but I didn’t feel like he was obligated to tell me. I had released all of it. The logistics, the timing, the knowing, the very impossible-looking everything. God continued to just blow me out of the water though because Ty was so vigilant about guarding our hearts. Both mine and his own. A couple weeks later, when Ty came home for Thanksgiving, he was still seeking everything out with a lot of caution. He knew it would be hard, he knew it wasn’t logical, and yet he was discovering Holy Spirit confirmations all over the place. God had gone before this whole thing in speaking to Grandpa and Grandma Kieser, Aunt Maria, Uncle Jesse and Aunt Jill, and to Grandma. Back in August, they all had felt a heart prick as God moved their spirit to have a “Ty and Katelyn” thought. It didn’t make sense to any of them either but they were praying for us fervently! It was especially wonderful for Mommy to have Aunt Jill as my Naomi to talk with about everything God was doing. She was the one that gently suggested I would maybe need to be the one to bring the subject of ’us’ up because Ty would never cross that line of respect for me. She let my verbal thrashing bounce off of her as the Holy Spirit inside of her absorbed my doubt and questioning and ranting while ministering so much peace to me. She was faithfully right there with Mommy through it all the whole time. God had given me open palms and surrender to a timeline that looked longer than I would like, but as our Boaz worked things out, I had to open my hands to a timeline that was faster and sooner than I had ever imagined. Girls, when I kept giving to God, and He continued to give it back, I had nothing left to do but delight in Him and rejoice in His outpouring of blessings. After all of the daily surrender, all I needed to do was gaze up at my Daddy with adoration, trust, and delight. That’s what girls do with their daddies. Ty was also surrendering and so fervent in seeking it out and wanting to know his Father’s heart. He gave it to God and when God gave him back a huge and unavoidable love for the three of us and an abandonment to His will, he obeyed. And he obeyed quickly. Just like Jesus, he laid down his life and did what God asked. Through all of the heartache and the grief we’re still expressing and all of the questions and all of the difficulty and all of the skepticism and all of the craziness, Ty obeyed God! Praise God for a new daddy that loves, loves, loves you and loves, loves, loves God the most!

It was December 6th the first time I told you girls about what God was doing and the new daddy that He was giving us and the love that he had grown between us. Ty called me and, after a vulnerable, somewhat halting conversation he told Mommy that he loved me. My spirit thrilled inside of me and it was like a loosening of my protective heart straps. The love that was being poured into me for him had a little more elbow room to bloom. I was overflowing with excitement at being able to tell you! You had been praying for a new daddy for months and you didn’t know yet how God was answering your prayers that whole time. Arawen, you were already asleep, but Jaycee, you were up watching a movie with Aunt Susie, so I pulled you onto my lap, and with a rejoicing heart said,

“Guess what….? I love Ty.” I said with a gentle excitement, not knowing how you would respond, yet wanting to convey my happiness.

“And tell me the rest” you said as you smiled in response to my beaming.

“And Ty loves Mommy” I replied.

“And tell me the rest” you said, knowing there was more.

“And Ty loves you” I said excitedly.

Then you said again, smiling more, “And tell me the rest.”

“And Ty loves Arawen.”

“And tell me the other rest” you said persistently but with a big grin on your face.

“I really really love Ty and Ty really really loves Mommy.” I affirmed with more hugs and smiles.

Then you questioned me, “Do you love Ty?”

“I really love Ty!” I said.

“Then I love Ty!” was your priceless conclusion.

Arawen, the next morning, I was elated to relay the news of all of your answered prayers. "Arawen," I began, "You know Ty?" You replied in the affirmative, probably all those memories of him playing with you on vacation flitting through your head. I then told you with sparkling eyes, "Ty loves, loves Mommy and I love Ty! And Ty loves, loves, loves you!" You looked at me innocently, "Mommy," you said politely, "can I eat?" Arawen Joy, you bring your mother so much joy and laughter!

Ty called Papa to ask for his blessing in pursuing an official relationship with Mommy, and on December 17th, when he came home for Christmas break, Mommy had a boyfriend for the very first time! You girls loved having him around to play with you and read you Bible stories before bed and carry you into the house from your carseats. In February, Ty was home again for spring break and that’s when he surprised us by coming earlier than planned. That’s also when he got down on his knee and with you two looking on, said, "Kate, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you; will you marry me?" Remember how Mommy shouted yes and raised my hands to praise Jesus, then gleefully hugged you two and declared how amazing our Jesus is? And remember what happened next? He then brought out two more ring boxes, got down in front of you and said, “Jaycee, can I be your new daddy?” Jaycee, you smiled so sweetly -almost shyly- let him put the ring on your finger and give you a ring pop and said, “yeah.” Then he knelt in front of you, Arawen, and asked, “Arawen, can I be your new daddy?” “Yes.” was your sweet reply as you reached eagerly for the candy. He knew the way into your heart!

Girls, when we see Ty and the answer to so many prayers that he is, we see someone willing to lay down his life for us. Girls, when we see Ty and his crazy love for us, beyond him and bigger than him, and through him, we see Jesus and his even crazier love for us. We see the craziest love story that God has ever written. We see something so big and world changing that only God could have dreamed up a love story and a rescue plan that awesome and creative. And we call it 'crazy.' Oftentimes, in God’s kingdom, 'crazy' is amazingly valuable. In fact, this certain kind of crazy love is life-saving. Jaycee, one day, God will make the craziest love story in the world your very own and save your life. You’ll look at Jesus who died on the cross for your sins, and you'll hear his voice: “I love you, my sweet, precious Jaycee-girl!” and by grace, you’ll respond in repentance and belief and say, “I love you too, Jesus!” Arawen, one day you’ll see Jesus hanging on the cross with his arms stretched wide, saying "I love you this much!" and His vast and unsearchable love for you will become your greatest reality. In repentance, you’ll accept His gift of love, become his bride, and you’ll have a super crazy love story all your own. The craziest love story of all! I am praying expectantly for that day for both of you, my precious children. Until then, as imperfect as we are, Mommy and Daddy are going to show you Jesus as we reflect His love to you and point your gaze towards the cross- where the most important person in the world says, “I love you like crazy!”

With all my overflowing and thankful heart-

Love, Mommy

Hurting and Healing

The girls of the house. They all bring me so much joy!

I would like to take a moment and in a few measly words and characters thrown together on the screen you’re reading try to sum up the gratefulness I have for all of you and the prayers that have been prayed for me and are continuing to the throne in my behalf. I am utterly convinced that God uses the power of prayer to sustain us and I have been sustained by Jesus in the last 6 months since Jordan died. In the last 18 months that my life was a cancer-fighting hurricane. And yes, in the last 24 years to this day of God’s hand being on my life. God did that and incomprehensibly, He allowed your prayers to make that sustenance and grace and divine hold very real in my life. I am also utterly convinced that we are still in need of that miraculous act called prayer. Thanks to each and every one of you that prayed for Jordan and me and Jaycee and Arawen and who continue to pray for us. Thank you from the bottom of my hurting and healing heart.

Heart hurting. I had something akin to déjà vu the other day. A conversation I had with Jordan about a dream I had and then being in the exact place I was in my dream. A memory of him telling me not to watch a movie because he knew I wouldn’t like it. The vividness of the memory showing up AFTER I watched said movie with my brother and absolutely hated it. The absence of being so well known like that is thick. A dream I woke up from the other day of a conversation with a lifelong best friend of Jordan’s. The hurt in his heart and the intensity & honesty of him missing Jordan and talking to me about it left me to wake up to utter sadness. Sobbing to my mom later; “I can’t believe it happened. I can’t believe he’s gone.” It really is nearly impossible to wrap my mind around the permanence of death. It’s painful to even try. The way when Jordan gets spoken of the very present awareness of the past tense stabs me in the chest. I entered 2011 without him; a year he’ll never know. I will make a year of memories, none of which will include Jordan. Five days later, Arawen turned 2 without her daddy. The memories begin and it all hurts. A lot.

Heart healing: I don’t know how to explain the strong confidence I had from the very beginning of my brutally wounded heart that God would heal me. I knew He would. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. I knew I couldn’t and won’t ever understand an incomprehensible God, but I also knew that wasn’t my job. Really, the best way I can describe it is that I have been granted surrender. God picked me up, planted me at the cross, lifted my arms, took my balled up fists, stretched my fingers out, and turned them palms up. I held the pain at arm’s length as best I could. I exhausted myself to sleep every night for a long time. I didn’t want to fall to sleep, I just wanted to pass out from exhaustion. I stayed up reading until my eyes could no longer physically stay open. And it was in this heart-wrenching, reeling, pain-racked time period that God spoke to my hurting heart and a manifestation of the healing became real. I have a story to tell and it’s full of redemption and it has God‘s fingerprints all over it.

One night, I was up late reading a book after an unexpected but surprisingly enjoyable, rejuvenating, and very quick trip to Phoenix. My younger brother Josh had just punctured a lung and lacerated his liver in a bull-riding accident in Flagstaff, so after a week of recovering, I traveled out there to bring him home. His friend Ty, who attends school in Phoenix, had been at the rodeo and then at the hospital, blessing us greatly by being there for Josh when we could not. Ty had also graciously provided airport transit, picking me up and dropping the two of us off the next morning. This is my journal entry from the night I got back:

It was a moment that was born. It sparkled, then lived. It was so real and important it reached out, halted my book-reading, and turned my head to look over at it. It took my breath away and I reveled in it. I noticed it all intensely and repeatedly, devouring the entire picture with my eyes. The gorgeous, splayed lashes on the curvy, nearly spherical cheek. The unconscious beauty of the pink, perfectly joined lips. The chubby, suntanned arms and legs jutting out of the striped green pajamas and splayed all over her -and my- side of the bed. The arm curved in front of her face with the silly banz on her wrist. The blond tendrils gracing her forehead in a myriad of directions. The one braid in and the one braid out. The imperceptible up-and-down of her back and translucent softness and aliveness of my daughter sleeping next to me.

Ahhhh….. I drank deeply before I realized what was happening. Then, startled by the delight, exactly like the heartbroken girl in my recently abandoned book after she had a rare joyful moment, I asked, “It’s ok to be happy. Right?”

You’d-think-it-would-have-been-longer pause.

Then, I knew that the wise adult’s reply to the girl was true for me as well: “Right. Very ok.” Except the voice I heard wasn’t an uncannily understanding man. It was Father. I know that voice; it penetrates hospital ceilings. His understanding is not uncanny. His understanding is omniscient, empathetic, and very, very real. It is ok to be happy. And then I heard the same voice again:


“And it’s ok to love Ty Kieser.”

Twenty-nine days after my beloved husband looked me gently in the eyes, touched my chest and told me he was going to pray that God would make space in my heart to love someone else, I was freed to love Ty Kieser. I was profoundly astonished!

Ty Kieser. Tall, dark, disarmingly handsome, radiating Jesus in raw genuineness, soul-searching eyes, beyond athletic, hilarious, passionate man of God. I knew that it would be hard. I knew that being freed to love him did not include doing anything about it. Except pray. I knew the next weeks and months would nevertheless be piercingly painful with loneliness and excruciating surrender. And I knew I would have to lay this man on the altar too. I was not being freed to love him and keep him. I was being freed to love him and give him back to God. But, with all that knowledge, I also knew I loved him. And that God was in this.

Caught completely off-guard, awestruck in the moment, the above description and narrative began to tumble through my head. As I grabbed my laptop knowing I needed to write it all down and I couldn’t lose the words reading themselves to me in my brain, I questioned myself. I distrusted the terrified and excited butterflies in my stomach. The blatant obviousness of the fact that it would take a divine miracle loomed horribly and familiarly large.

I comforted and convinced myself that if it wasn’t, in fact, supposed to happen with the man newly dear to my heart, I would be more than happy to delete the above paragraphs forever. I knew that, with whomever God would bless me, he would be unthinkably right and wonderfully over-qualified for the huge job. I envisioned myself ruefully laughing and gesturing with a flick of my wrist at the immature coping mechanism of a crush.

The self-assuring, self-questioning, and self-protection walls were closing in on me, but I was kind of there: freedom to live in the moment. Unashamed of what that moment looked like even if, to all others it appeared unforgivably ludicrous. Freedom to allow an overwhelming spectrum of raw emotions into my heart and know that I wasn’t the One ultimately responsible for sorting it out. Freedom to put my computer down, shakily and probably temporarily give it all to God, and go to sleep. 8.23.10, 1:54 a.m.

Next post title: God’s Crazy Love Stories

God of storms

In Phoenix. We were so blessed with an amazing vacation there in October.

“Look at me. Every time you look at me, you’re going to know that I believe in a miracle!” I smiled a big and real smile as I said that to Jordan after we had talked about some unbelief that was repressive and tangible to the two of us when certain people were in the room. Some people didn’t believe for us, and we could tell. It was imperative to me that he knew I absolutely believed! I hardly ever cried in front of him, not because there weren’t plenty of tears in me, and not because I was fabricating a façade for him, but because I believed in a miracle with him, and because he needed to know that. I wasn’t trying to hide from him the agony I experienced during his suffering. He knew. He knew it hurt me immensely to see him like that. I wasn’t pretending for him, I was choosing to be strong for him and I told him that. We’d have an honest conversation like, “Hey babe, how was last night for you?” “Last night was really hard; I cried a lot. And I gave you back to Jesus.” We had normal voices and neutral tones and we were discussing the most emotionally rending time of our lives. And then I’d smile genuinely and beautifully at him. He always told me I was three times prettier when I smiled. So I showered him with those real, beautiful smiles that he loved all that last week in the hospital. Every time our eyes met, even if I was crying, I smiled really big through my tears. I got as many hugs from him as possible too. As the amount of time he spent upright dwindled, I was missing them. So, whenever we’d help him stand up to get in or out of bed, I’d briefly lean into that familiar place in his chest, close my eyes, and just let myself feel. Feel him. His height and his strength. His fleeting presence.

But I didn’t know it was fleeting! I knew it looked fleeting. Oh yes! I was painfully aware of the reality of the appearance of vanishing life! To every logically thinking person on the planet, Jordan’s days were few. To all the doctors and nurses that read his plummeting oxygen saturation levels. To friends that were going above and beyond to help us and pray for us. To family that constantly stood by our side. To everyone, it looked like he was dying. To Jordan and me, and to countless others, it looked like God was setting the stage for the greatest miracle everyone in our sphere of acquaintances, our state, and our country had ever witnessed. He was just making it look harder to our reality-trapped minds, and our unbelieving hearts before He blew us out of the water with indisputably miraculous physical healing. Jordan had every intention of walking out of that hospital on his own and he wanted to bring the other patients with him! We believed in a miracle.

I’m so unashamed of that fact. I remember ‘reminding’ God that because we were believing in a physical miracle and proclaiming said belief as loudly as we could through every avenue possible, He’d have to show up. Boldly stepping out in our faith in a God who still heals physically, we had a prayerful and expectant world watching us. The blog got linked up to countless times, the link got shared on facebook by multiple people, strangers came to the prayer meetings, the CaringBridge site had thousands of visitors; God was in the spotlight. “Therefore, God, You have to heal this cancer,” we concluded. As I sat next to Jordan’s hospital bed, writing what would be my final plea for healing prayer, I hesitated. I had a fleeting thought of the millions of pieces that would come from the world-shattering if this didn’t end in the kind of miracle for which we were faithfully hoping. “How am I going to explain that?” God said gently over my shoulder, “I’m big enough to pick up those pieces. You don’t have to worry about making me look bad. I’ve been protecting my reputation and guarding my glory for a long time, child.” I hated that I had just had that thought of ‘might not’ because I wanted our miracle so vehemently, so I lunged forward with my typing and this is what I wrote: Again, please join in praying for a miracle tonight at 8. This is God's deal; but I have no problems as His child asking for what He does best.

So, here we are, on the other side of the millions of tiny pieces that came crashing down around myself and the girls, around our families, around our friends when Jordan’s miracle was unexpectedly eternal.

Today in church, the sermon was on Luke 8 where Jesus calms the storm. My family and I now attend Bethany Community Church and the Body of Christ there is a huge blessing. Pastor Daniel spoke on faith in a sovereign Lord in our storms. Follow God into the storm, trust Him in the middle of the storm, and understand that He ordains the storm. “Your storm is an opportunity to do what you were created to do; glorify God, worship Him, and say Hallelujah!”

The following is a piece of the story of my storm. The fiercest winds, highest waves, most catastrophically painful moments of my life. This is my storm’s peak. It’s been a long time coming maybe, but it was so devastating at the time, that to even think back was gut-wrenching. Picking up where we left off:

“I’m going to a better place.” “Is that ok with you, baby?” “Yeah, it’s what Jesus wants.” I knew it was true. I heard those indescribable, life-altering words and I didn’t panic. I just knew. To say I was okay with it, sounds appalling, but I knew Jesus was in Jordan. I knew the Spirit was pouring from him. I watched his sanctification process for the last 6 years, I got to see Jesus really up-close in Jordan for the last 4 years. I trusted Jesus in Jordan so much that I just sat there holding his hand and didn’t say anything. I had finally abandoned my husband to the Holy Spirit the last week of his life. I stopped trying to help God out in working in and through Jordan, and I just surrendered him to the only One that can truly change hearts. I was finally a good wife. All throughout that last week I told him over and over things like:
“You go where Jesus goes.”
“What’s Jesus saying? Let me know after He tells you.”
“Don’t worry about me and the girls. We have Jesus.”

Not right afterwards, but after a small silence, the very next thing he said as he looked peacefully into my eyes was: “I want my girls to have a daddy.” “I do too!” was my immediate reply, and “You!” was my silent scream. I didn’t know where he was going with that; I was still trying to process his previous statement, and was still instinctively in miracle mode. I had a millisecond of hope, that God had changed his mind, that the second realization of our precious daughters needing a father was usurping the first that Jesus wanted him Home. Then he said to me as he gently touched my chest with all five of his right-hand fingers, “I’m going to pray for you that God makes space in your heart to love somebody else. Because you have a big heart. And they need a daddy.” I was crying; not hard but steadily, and my soul went lurching and reeling from the blow of hearing the last words anyone wants to hear from the love of their life and the father of their children.

He told me “Thank you” for a thousand different things. “Thanks for the last 4 years. They’ve been the best years of my life. There were some hard times, but we made it through with Jesus. Thanks for loving me and loving our girls the way you do. Thanks for being my best friend. Thanks for your forgiveness. Thanks for encouraging me, believing in me...” (I’ve desperately tried to remember this word for word. But I can’t.) He looked down at his wedding ring, then looked at me and said “You want this?” I just tearfully nodded. He pulled it off his finger and placed it on my left thumb. Then, I got to tell him “Thank you” for a thousand different things. “Thanks for the best 4 years of my life, thanks for being Jesus to me more than any other person in my life, thanks for loving me, thanks for being an awesome daddy to Jaycee and Arawen and prophesying into their lives, thanks for loving the Word of God and seeking His kingdom first, thanks for leading our family, thanks for forgiving me all those times, thanks for singing to me in the car, holding my hand, writing me notes, telling me I’m beautiful, taking me on dates...” I whispered it all into his ear because I didn’t want the others to hear all of the personal things for which I specifically wanted to say thanks. Because that’s the way God made marriage: a beautiful, intimate secret between the two of you.

He went around the room and spoke to each of his siblings and their spouses. He thanked his parents. He got to sing with us and when we sang “It Is Well” he raised his hands to praise the God he loved and served so passionately. He was able to bless Jaycee and Arawen one last time. He placed his hands on their heads and anointed them with oil. He prayed over them like this frequently and loved to prophesy and speak scripture into their young lives. He released them to Jesus, and relinquished all of his plans to impart his loves to them. The outdoors, basketball, the Bible, music. He let go of being able to teach them how to ride a bike, hear them learn to read, watch them turn into beautiful young ladies, and walk them down the aisle. He dreamt of and talked eagerly of doing those things, and when that dream died, he gave them to Jesus.

I waited for him to die. He eventually lost consciousness. He was hallucinatory before that. I counted his breaths as they got slower and farther...and farther apart. “One...Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!” I cried out in my mind as I looked at the cross, “Two...Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!” And there was that cross. I waited for him to die. I lay there in that hospital bed, holding his hand, surrounded by family, and waited for my husband to die. My back was aching intensely from being in the same position for so long. My heart hurt so bad. It hurt physically. It literally felt like there was a small circular saw, cutting away at my sternum, in one long, thin, piercing, searing slice, right down the center of my chest, from the inside out. My heart was breaking and it was as if it was trying to get out of my body, detach itself from my soul, mind, and all the nerves that connected it to me and the other half right next to me, part of me yet separate, with the life seeping out of him. It didn’t last long, and yet, it seemed like forever. He kept breathing. And I kept counting. “...Fifty-two...Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” And there was the cross again. And that horribly, crippling, incessant, real pain. It hurt to hear him try to breathe. The way his chest protruded with the sucking in, the sounds his throat made when the air came out. It hurts me to think about it now. It was agony. When the last breath sighed out of his body, I was rubbing his chest, my arm was around his neck, my forehead was against his, and then I kissed him. And then I left. I got up out of that bed, I stumbled out of that room, and when I got to that cold white, long hallway, I fell on my knees and I yelled as loud as I could: “God! I still believe in you!” I collapsed on the tile, my face on the floor, and the sobs wracking my body, as I cried and cried and cried. He was there. He was there the whole time. The whole time. All of Him. And all of His healing power. He was there and He is here. He simply is. My biggest pain was unthinkably, unimaginably, horribly painful. And my biggest reality was Jesus Christ; incomprehensibly, unfathomably, inconceivably real. My dad was next to me, on his knees with his arms around me, sobbing with me. “Of course you do! Of course you believe in Him. Of course you do, sweetheart! You love Him. Of course you still believe in Him!” The rest of my family came out then, surrounding me and crying, sharing that big, engulfing and colossal sea of our collective pain in which I was drowning.

And that’s my story. Excruciating, devastating, traumatizing, unbearable moments of my life. Turns out, I don’t have an explanation. God ordained this storm. He knew how much it would hurt, and He still numbered Jordan’s breaths so they ceased almost 5 months ago. And the pain just got worse after that. I had to tell my girls that Daddy wasn’t coming back. I had to plan a funeral. I had to keep on living. He’s fully in charge of the winds and the waves. And He doesn’t owe me an explanation. I have very real and present temptations to make a thousand accusatory queries of the God of the Universe. But because He is God, and I am man, it means He is far beyond our human comprehension. I also have a very real and present Savior. He never left me. He hurt me really bad, and I couldn’t feel Him sometimes but HE WAS THERE! He continues to be immovably right here in my pain and has given me the grace to praise Him in my storm. He’s also given me an indescribable and explicit trust that He will heal me. He will! And He will do it however and whenever He desires. So, I’m just doing what I was designed to do: praising my Creator. I raise my hands right now, to the God of the storms and say “Hallelujah!”

Please note: the website for Jordan's revival service and blessing videos is now http://www.11r.com/jordan_schroeder/

Isaiah 43:1-4 has been speaking volumes to me lately.
But now thus says the LORD,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;

and through the rivers,
they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire
you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
I give Egypt as your ransom,
Cush and Seba in exchange for you.
Because you are precious in my eyes,
and honored, and I love you.

Nov 7, 2006. Jordan's 22nd birthday. The first one we celebrated together.

A while ago, I began an email reply to a friend of mine that we had the privilege of getting to know while we were in Mexico. She and her husband fought the cancer battle ferociously for 4 long years. Earlier this year, her husband died. She has two little boys. In her e-mail update she talked about their would-have-been 8-year anniversary. Here's an excerpt: "Sometimes I wonder if this would be so much easier to bear if we had had a rotten marriage - then maybe this wouldn't hurt so bad. It's so hard for me to face the future without him and all alone." Please pray for her. Her name is Nicole.

The half-finished email got left for another day, but yesterday, I began again, and it turned into a revelation: A shout-out to my Savior, the Lover of my soul and Redeemer of the World. I wanted to share some of it with all of you.

As I'm sitting here crying and thinking about your e-mail and your anniversary and your breaking heart, please know that I'm bringing you to the Throne, where, like you said, we can come boldly to find grace to help in time of need. My heart hurts all the time and I think a lot about the awesome relationship with which Jordan and I were so blessed like you and Donny. I remember on several occasions having the enemy whisper over my shoulder to pull away, to resist growing closer to my husband and best friend because it would hurt more. My heart would be more entwined and therefore more shredded if something would happen to him. But I refused with my whole being, I fiercely fought that lie off and consciously made the effort to love him better and enjoy him more and bind my heart to his. Honestly, part of that was game-playing with God. I thought if He saw me resisting the devil and following him wholeheartedly, sacrificially loving my husband in the middle of trial He would spare me the loss and the hurt and the life-shattering. But I also knew it was the right thing to do and I did it with everything in me. Jesus in me chose to abandon my heart to the man I loved and who was dying of a terminal disease. And now, as I cling to the God that hurt me so deeply, I have been imparted a great thankfulness.

I'm so thankful our marriage was amazing. I know marriage is hard and flesh-denying, and takes great effort, and ours was all of that. But it was AMAZING! We were best friends and verbalized that to one another often. We anticipated greatly our just-us weekends and evenings together. We laughed and laughed and laughed, and cuddled all the time. Jordan would lay down on the couch or bed and yell "Family snuggle time!" So the girls and I would all pile on laughing and hugging and then just laying our heads on his chest. We hugged a lot! When he engulfed me in his arms, I'd look up at him and tell him, "This is my favorite spot in the whole world!" and I meant it. We'd fall asleep holding hands in the middle of the bed. We shared a lot of secret smiles and glances. Red lights were designed for kissing we had both concluded, so we'd kiss and then he'd put his arm around me, look over nodding his head all big and cocky, and shout to the person next to us: "Yeah, she's my wife!" I'd just laugh. He loved to make me laugh and was good at it. He was so proud of me and I just really, really liked him and believed in him. I never doubted that I was the love of his life and we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God brought us together. I remember leaning over to him at every wedding we went to and telling him, "I'm just so glad I'm not marrying THAT guy. I'm so glad I got you!" He'd always exclaim, "How did I land you!?" with surprise and triumph all at once. He claimed he reeled me in with his charm and good looks. It was true. He had charm, good looks, and a heart that sought God. I think he told all of his friends that he loved me way before our relationship went past friendship. He was always so vulnerable about where his heart was; it made me uncomfortable before we were married and then it challenged and amazed me after we were married. He was so okay with repenting in tears and baring his soul to me; all of his weaknesses, failures, desires, and dreams; he gave me all of him and entrusted his heart to me explicitly from the beginning. Some nights, we'd just talk forever, about everything. I was crazy about him. I completely melted and my head would spin when he'd stand right in front of me oozing manliness, and smirking down at me all mischievous and sexy, attracting every molecule in my body, completely aware of the fact that he was irresistible to me. He was; and I let him know it. We'd fake fight, and make huge deals out of little things because it was fun to yell and half-way insult the other while tempering it with a lot of humor. We'd get out the boxing gloves and go to town on each other; that may seem like an unfair advantage, but I'd get him giggling and then just whale on him, so it was pretty even. We claimed it was healthy for our marriage. He wanted me around for everything; so I learned and got a tiny bit better at basketball, fishing, hunting, baseball, golf, and watching sports. We loved having our girls along too; a lot of times, we'd have an opportunity to leave them or that would seem like the more logical thing to do, but we just wanted to enjoy them so we'd haul them out to eat or over to friends' houses and they'd just stay up all happy or go to sleep in a room somewhere. He sang songs to me. He'd put in a CD and perfectly imitate the country twang on all these cheesy love songs he liked and knew by heart, belting them with his amazing voice. He always tried to get me to harmonize with him and it never really worked, so we'd get a good laugh but he'd still encourage me with that gift of his; "One day, you'll be a worship leader!" he told me. He said things like that to the girls, too "You're going to be an awesome warrior for the Kingdom!" he'd tell Arawen, and to Jaycee, "You're going to love Jesus with your whole heart, because you have an amazing heart!" "You're both going to be incredible, godly, prophetic, Spirit-filled women of God. You're going to prophesy into people's lives and be used by Jesus to work miracles." He would say those things to them when they weren't even able to walk or talk. He saw God's fingerprints on them and was so visionary and vocal about his little world-changers. He took the responsibility of spiritual headship as a wonderful privilege and treated our Bible and prayer time as priority. He'd sing songs to Jaycee and Arawen when he put them in bed. Jaycee still won't let me sing "Jesus loves me" or "Trust and obey" because "only boys sing those songs." They're 'Daddy' songs to her. He loved us like crazy! He sacrificed for us; not only did he work so hard to provide, but he did tons of things around the house. He'd empty the dishwasher, put the groceries away, wash the dishes, sweep the carpet, make us breakfast, bathe the girls. He loved doing it too, and did it intentionally. He'd say, "That's because I love you!" He told me often that I blessed him, that I was an amazing wife and he never wanted to take me for granted. He also told me I was beautiful all the time and I felt beautiful around him. I told him he was "smokin' hot" and it became a catchphrase in our marriage because, according to him, I said 'smokin' with an 'l' sound in the middle. It just got exaggerated, and we'd call each other 'Smolkin!' It was awesome. He was the nickname master and we had a whole other language in our house. I don't know how many different nicknames we both went by and it became even more hilarious when the girls were born. His sense of humor was so prevalent in our everyday. I'd call him up and tell him all the funny things the girls did, knowing he was the only other one that would think it was that hysterical. We left each other love notes and Bible verses. On the kitchen table before he left for work and I got up. In his lunchbox. On the dashboard of the car. On the bathroom mirror. We text-messaged a lot and ended every phone conversation with "I love you" even if we were mad. Our marriage was a God thing! It was truly amazing!

Back to your inquiry about whether or not living would be easier if it hadn't been so wonderful; I don't think 'easy' is anywhere near our experience these days, and I am very aware that 'hard' is incredibly present. But I don't know how I could handle the guilt on top of the loss if I had been secretly hoping I could get out, if I had been harboring bitterness and resentment towards God for the husband He gave me, if I was distrusting Jordan's love for God and me. All of those things were beyond a shadow of a doubt in my mind. God was first and foremost. I was far and away his favorite woman on the planet and then our girls were next. I'm so humbled that I have an awesome legacy and story to tell Jaycee and Arawen. I'm so thankful I can talk so highly to them about the daddy of whom they are a piece. I'm so grateful we drank so deeply of the love with which God had so immensely blessed us and designed to be delightful, erotic, and soul-satisfying. I'm so so so very grateful!

There's a Sara Groves song I just heard that talks about getting to Heaven and asking Job how to be broken and faithful. It also talks about being broken and grateful and peaceful. That's what I am! I am horribly, painfully broken and yet grateful! I am broken and faithful. I am broken and still praising God! Not in spite of, but because of all the pain I'm in. I have hope and peace that passes understanding because God is so massively big in my life. You see that big, rambling paragraph up there that was so extremely bittersweet and tearful to remember and write all by myself? Do you know how many other things I could've put up there if Jordan would've been reading over my shoulder? I've only got me to remember now and only my perspective to think from and parent from and make decisions from. I'm half a person. The oneness that we had in Christ through the holiness of marriage just got severed. My heart got shredded. I lost all of ^ that ^ up there! I ran to my Daddy with a gaping wound and He didn't even put a bandaid on it. He watched me bleed all over that 7th floor hospital room, all over that hospital bed I shared with Jordan, all over that last year of cancer. He watched those cancer cells overtake those precious lungs. And now, beyond anything I can understand, He's holding me right here at the foot of the cross. I'm just camping out at the cross. Because at the cross, God shouts "I LOVE YOU!" And that's what I need to hear. Over and over. It's at the cross I realize it's not all about me. I'm not the only one. I know that He knows and understands this kind of pain. He knows what it's like to watch the one you love the most on earth suffer and then die. I know He knows, because what He endured for the blackness of my soul was worse than what I'm enduring because of the blackness of sin, suffering, disease, and a fallen world. I'm overcome with thankfulness when I think of Jordan's firm faith in the cross of Calvary. I'm this broken and I'm this sad, and yet I experience daily a joy unspeakable and a thankfulness indescribable. I still have hope! Miraculous joy and miraculous hope.

Today is Jordan's birthday. Twenty-six years ago, Rachel Sauder-Schroeder gave birth to Jordan Lee Schroeder. Duane and Rachel were blessed with their fourth child and second son on November 7, 1984. What a gift! What a miracle! I know; I've given birth twice and it's utterly life-changing. But do you know what birthday I'm unbelievably, far-and-away more grateful for? His real birthday.

March 28th, 2004. On THAT day, Jordan Lee Schroeder was truly born. Covered by the blood of Jesus, and delivered into the Kingdom of God, he became a new creature, dead to sin, ALIVE unto Christ. THAT day, Jesus overcame and satan lost, and a heavenly host rejoiced over a sinner's homecoming. Jordan got revived at the foot of the cross. He clung confidently to that new and supernatural life, being sanctified by the power of the Spirit and using His gifts to inspire faith and Bible hunger in so many people around him. He had real life to such a miraculous degree that not even death could quench it. So, on July 24, 2010 when that big heart stopped beating, he became even more alive than ever in the Presence of God!

Priceless! ABSOLUTELY PRICELESS! That gift of grace is unspeakably awe-inspiring to me right now. That knowledge I possess is beyond precious to me. It blesses me in the deepest depths of my soul! I'm speechless with how to express this gratitude. All I can say, is THANK YOU FOR THE CROSS JESUS!!! THANK YOU FOR THE CROSS!! THANK YOU JESUS! I am so in love with You and I'm humbled and overwhelmed by Your grace, Your mercy, Your provision, Your unsearchable love, Your unbelievable sacrifice, and Your miraculous, saving power! AMEN AND AMEN! AND HALLELUJAH! GOD,YOU ARE AWESOME!!

Today, I would love to be celebrating with Jordan and my brother Zachary. Zach turns 8 today. Jordan always told Zach they had the coolest birthday around. I can vividly imagine it; another joint party with home-made ice cream cake and the whole family gathered around my parents' big kitchen table. But today, I already got to celebrate with Jordan. Joining the Body of Christ at church and the heavenly throng at the Throne, I was privileged to raise my hands to the God of love, and sing "Glory to Your name" and "You rose and conquered the grave!" to The King. That praise reaches past the time-space continuum and my voice and Jordan's voice and countless others celebrated the only real thing worth celebrating: Jesus Christ.

Let's continue to praise Jesus. It's eternal.

Happy most-awesome-birthday ever, Baby!

My heart hurts.

It aches all the time. I didn't know you could be in this much pain and still function. I didn't know that I could survive this long without him. I didn't know my girls could go without their daddy. I didn't know that I didn't need to tell him all of the funny things they do throughout the day. I didn't know that I could teach, instruct, and discipline Jaycee and Arawen without him. I didn't know I could make financial decisions on my own. I didn't know I could get dressed up and go somewhere without having him tell me I was beautiful. I didn't know my body could ache to be held. I didn't know eternity would ever be this real to me. I didn't know that praising God would make me cry every time. I didn't know that God would implant thankfulness into my heart. I didn't know that I'd trust Him explicitly to heal me in His time. I didn't know how solely sufficient Jesus is.

I did know, however, that I was immeasurably blessed with the husband God gave me. I'm so thankful -SO THANKFUL- we expressed our love and thankfulness for each other all throughout our marriage!

I found my last hand-written note to him while I was moving out of the home we had purchased in April. The girls and I have been so blessed to have my parents open up their home to us. We've been living here since mid August. This was written sometime mid June:

I LOVE YOU!

I LOVE OUR WEEKENDS TOGETHER!

I LOVE OUR NEW HOUSE!

I LOVE OUR FRIDGE

I LOVE YOUR FACIAL HAIR

I LOVE LAUGHING WITH YOU!

Randomly, I was in an old e-mail inbox today and I found one I had saved.

Four years ago tomorrow he wrote me this e-mail.

Hey Gorgeous-

Sometimes I just don't know how to show you how much you truly mean to me. I try to tell you when I can but words just aren't enough. I hope that my actions speak louder than my words. I thank God for you, babe. You are an amazing woman and God has given you an amazing heart. Let's keep giving everything to God because the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. So if He wants to take something from us then He can. I am so excited about having a baby with you. I love kids so much and I know you do too. I pray that God will give us wisdom and grace to teach and raise our kids the way He designed us to. I know you are not too excited about the newborn stage but I think God designed it so we can gradually learn. He works in different ways to refine us and make us holy. I keep praying that our love for each other will burn 7 times hotter, and that our love for God will be more than that. Thanks for everything, babe. Sorry when I sin against and don't treat you the way that I should. You truly mean the world to me. I look forward every day to my drive home because I know you are there. May God truly bless you and thanks for being a blessing to me.

The one who will always                                                                                                                                    be there for you,

Jordan

What else is there to say? My tears are streaming and my heart is hurting and my soul is yearning for Jesus.