Dear Brian,

Can you believe it? Our daughter is getting to play in the state softball tournament. She started the first two games. Our freshman, our timid daughter who has made amazing friends while playing ball, is playing in the state softball tournament. Have I mentioned to you that she is wearing a bow???

She played well in the first round, but made a mistake and attempted to steal 3rd base when she shouldn't have. Our thinker shook it off as best as she could until after the game when she found me. Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. She didn't need a scolding. Instead, she needed reassurance that things really would be ok. They won, and a win is a win no matter how you get there.

Today, I watched our daughter come alive on the softball field. She put into practice all that you and her coaches have taught her over the last five years since she made that fateful decision in 4th grade to give softball a chance. She also wore her bow again today.

She charged a ball throwing it to 3rd base where Mack Childers sailed it to Macey Henderson for the final out of the 1st inning. Later in the game she caught a crucial fly ball in left field. In the 7th inning, she back handed a ball hit to her getting it back in to the infield.

Her hitting was amazing today. She made it on base twice and hit a pop up to right field that was caught. You would have been so very proud of her.

Several times today, it was as if I could see you - heart over your chest in true Fred Sanford mode saying that that play almost got you, shaking your head at an error made by sweet girls who want to win this tournament so badly and that clap you did when a game was over and victory was sealed. You would have had your copy of the bracket that you have kept up-to-date and kept us all informed.

Today, our daughter played in the state tournament. It has been a dream of the two of you for her to be able to go to state. She is one game away from making it to the finals in Fayetteville. No matter what happens, I know we are incredibly proud parents. Our girl has worked hard and not once given up.

We missed you the past two days. Your absence was felt...by me...by her...by our friends.

Love always.

As I left the hospital a day or two before Brian died, I remember thinking that surely we would be home in time for Spring Break. I wondered why I had not set it as a goal for us before this moment. Surely, it was a reasonable goal and something we could both look forward to because certainly he would get well. Almost immediately, I found myself wondering who I was to set goal for something over which I had absolutely no control. At the time, we were roughly four weeks from Spring Break. I remember wondering how we were that close to the break and what in the world had happened to the four weeks before that point. I also remember hearing a voice...I know it was the Lord preparing my heart. He said something along the lines of "Rachel, you can't set a goal for something that is not yours. Let me be in charge." I think I knew at that point that this wasn't going to end the way I wanted or had fantasized. I wasn't going to have my storybook, movie ending where Brian and I would stand before our family and friends and praise God for all he had done, yet we did get this. It's just that B was in heaven, and I was in our church surrounded by friends and family as we celebrated B's life and God's amazing blessings on our family and on B.

Four weeks after B passed away, it was Spring Break. After much prodding and tugging and pretty much telling me how things were going to go, my friend Heather convinced me to bring the girls and join their family and their friends from Centerton and go to Branson. I knew the girls would love the time away and getting to say that they did something fun for Spring Break. However, I wasn't sure I was ready to do all the things we always did as a family.  However, we went. We stayed at Point Royale where we had stayed for the World Series and other trips. We went to Silver Dollar City and rode rides. We visited the outlets and ate at Fuddruckers. We did it. We had fun, and we made MORE memories. We talked about Brian and laughed. We made new friends. It was a great trip.

"Making more memories" is a phrase that a friend shared with me. She lost her husband a year ago and has shared wisdom and tips with me. I am so very grateful. So here's to making MORE memories and building on the legacy my love left for us....

Before Brian passed away, I remember him saying that he made 11 trips to the DR. I remember thinking that I couldn't believe it had been that many. He had been on trips with the Pulaski Baptist Association, our church (First Baptist Little Rock) and our school (Baptist Prep). It's amazing how these trips quickly became part of our normal during the year. When Brian got sick, it had been almost a year since he had been in the country he loved so much.

On every trip that B made, he would leave his running shoes. I used to tease him that this was his way of getting new shoes. He would say that after all the work he did down there it was best those shoes not come back in this house. While all of that was true, I knew the real reason. It was a small thing he could do for the pastors in the DR. These men and their families live on very little income and work tiredlessly (is that a word) to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the refugees from Haiti and with the natives in the area.

After B passed away and the service was over, I was almost immediately overwhelmed wondering what I should do with all of his things. I knew I could never part with his boots, but his tennis shoes and those Crocs were a different story. It took a bit for me to be able to ask our friend Jay Jacobs if he would take the shoes with him when went to the DR just a few short days after Brian's service. Jay graciously agreed. I included the service folder from the funeral so that he could share it with pastors.

Jay was in charge of the mission team from Baptist Prep who was going to the DR to minister. I knew that Jay would honor my request and Brian as he shared B's shoes. Of course, the response Jay received was that Brian always left his shoes with them. While I'm sure I do not have my facts completely straight, what I do know is that when the Baptist Prep team pulled up to the church there were shoes outside the door. This is not typical in the DR. Gina knew this was the perfect chance. She put B's shoes with the ones outside the door and grabbed a sign from the bus. The sign read: "How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news. Romans 10:15"

Thank you Jay and Gina for honoring B in such a beautiful way. He loved you both, and he loved the people of the DR. He loved sharing Christ with them as well as helping teenagers and others on the trips to love missions. My girls will never have the opportunity to travel with their dad on one of these trips, but I truly believe that his example will live on in them however they choose to share Christ with others.

When the kids were little, we celebrated their firsts with cheers and tears. We encouraged first steps, first words, first days of school, first ballgames, first time to drive...Over the years, firsts around here have begun looking a little different than they used to; and in the last 7 weeks, they have become heartbreakingly different.

While Brian was sick, we celebrated two championships - Ellie's Jr High Basketball Championship and Annie's 4th Grade Girls PSL League Championship. We learned to celebrate without him. We learned how to send two girls off to a Daddy Daughter Dance for the first time without their Dad. We learned to celebrate a first date and first time to wear makeup. We have learned how to start a new school sport with Dad's initials on our helmet and him in our hearts and not the stands.

We have celebrated the first family birthday, Brian's Mamaw, and will celebrate my Papa this weekend. In two weeks, we will celebrate Mollie's 12th birthday.

Last week, we had the flu for the first time. This was our first time being sick since it became just us girls. As Wednesday morning dawned and I was crawling out of bed to get Ellie to school, I could hear Brian in his sassy Southern drawl, "You goin' to work today?" It was always his subtle way of asking if I had forgotten to clue him in to a schedule change, which happened some times.

This week, Ellie was part of her first Missions week at Baptist Prep as an upperclassman. She spent the week with a group at Easter Seals. She has had the best time serving and loving on others. Next year, she is eligible to travel like her dad did with sevral Baptist Prep missions teams. I always preferred to stay stateside, but I cannot wait to see what Ellie chooses. Will she follow her dad and head to the DR or go to Peru? I can't wait to see what the Lord has for her in yet another first.

Our year of firsts is staring us hard in the face. We are learning though. We are cheering each other on as a mark of survival, as reassurance that things will one day be ok again. They will...just not today.

"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21B NKJV

Today, I threw Brian’s toothbrush and razor away. I have stared at it multiple times a day wondering what I should do. Should I keep it there with mine, or do I throw it away? No one has touched either since the morning of January 21st. So as I cleaned bathrooms to try to get the flu bug out of my house, I threw the razor and the toothbrush into the trash.

It’s funny how a toothbrush can stir up all kinds of emotions. It is just the toothbrush he got from our dentist and the green Bic razor he insisted on using. If B was anything, he was frugal. He was careful about the money he spent unless it was on one of his girls. This trait has proven to be a blessing after his death.

We never wanted for anything. If he wasn’t on board with a purchase, he would look at me over the top of his glasses. Without saying a word, he said “Are you kidding me?” For the most part, the outcome was split 50-50. He had a sneaky way of sliding into conversation that he had been shopping for bats or some other piece of equipment even when i knew we didn’t have the money. Anything for his girls.

It never failed when I would ask for something for Christmas or my birthday, he would end up buying more than I had asked for.  He spoiled me. I miss that.

He loved us well. Even when we disagreed, I never questioned whether or not he loved me. For that I am grateful. In Lamentations 3:22, we read: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.” This is how our Heavenly Father is. His love for us never ends. It is longsuffering and endures whatever comes. God is faithful. I have been reminded of this over and over again during the 30 days that B was sick and in the almost 2 weeks since he went Home.

I am thankful for the picture of love that God gave me in our 17 year marriage. God is faithful. He has been providing for our every need before we even knew to ask. For that, I am so grateful.

I miss my guy terribly, but today it was time. Today, I threw away his toothbrush.

I feel like a broken record. I can't seem to get out of this funk. Once again, I find myself with piles of things that must be done today, or was it yesterday? Yes, I am there. I have been blaming my lack of energy and motivation on my iron levels. (Hopefully the good doc will prove me right in a few weeks.) At the same time, I find myself realizing I might just have a hurting heart.

The frustrating thing is that my heart should be full of happiness. Our girls are healthy. Annie turned 4 on Saturday. I cannot believe it! What a joy she is! Ellie is doing great in school and has turned into the absolute biggest helper ever! No idea what I would do without her. Mollie is amazing me with her reading and all that she is learning. She is reading everything!! Brian is preparing to leave in a few weeks on another mission trip. This time he's heading to Africa. I  am so proud of him, and his obedient and willing spirit.

And, yet, my heart hurts. It hurts so bad that I find myself running from it. "It" is reality. It's the reality that the time is coming that a very big decision is about to be made about my grandmother, my Mom's, care. It's the reality that none of us are big enough to handle Alzheimer's. None of us were made to do this. It's the reality that all of our days are numbered.

When I was little, I was convinced my grandparents would live forever. I was blessed to be 29 years old before I ever had to face the reality of losing a grandparent. And now, here I am, 36 years old and running as hard as I can from a storm that is coming. This storm cannot be stopped.

I have started this post a million times in my head and a few times on this blog. As I drove home from our Sunday school class Super Bowl party, I realized it was time. It's time to share my heart. Even if no one ever reads it but me, it is ok. It's cathartic and energizing to share where I've been and where I trust the Lord is leading as I learn the true meaning and significance of my God, God of the Angel Armies.

For all practical purposes, it has been over a year since I have blogged. I realized the other day that I have been avoiding my blog. Avoiding it because life has been anything but perfect over the last year to year and a half. Avoiding it because I felt like I was so far behind there was no way I would ever catch up. Avoiding it because it is one more thing in my list of things I cannot manage to accomplish which is yet another thing that makes me feel like a bad mom. Thinking about it in these ways makes me laugh at myself, and yet it also makes me praise the Lord for carrying me to today. I've been consumed in a battle, a battle of my heart, my emotions, my mind, my dreams and my reality. It's a battle that just yesterday during our amazing worship service about breaking free, I found myself telling the Lord, my God of the Angel Armies, that I am done fighting....

It has almost been a year...a year since we received the "official" diagnosis from my grandmother's doctor. Dementia, Alzheimers...whatever you want to call it...Death. Death to all that she has known. Death to life as we know it. After Mom's diagnosis, it was if life began to spiral out of control. Suddenly everything was different. She couldn't be left alone. She didn't know us any more. Just before she was officially diagnosed, mom got out of the house and fell in the street. A passersby found her and rang the doorbell. She was so pitiful. As I held her hand that day and gently cleaned her scratches, she looked at me and asked why would I ever do that for her when she had never done anything nice for me. Who knows who she thought I was that day. It didn't matter. I was finally able, in a small way, to begin giving back to her. Who cared that she may or may not remember that I knelt beside her that day. What mattered was that I knew.

I have been very blessed to always have had my grandparents as a BIG part of my life. Brian and Papa were fast friends from the first day that I brought him to Sunday lunch. I've decided that engineers stick together. My girls adore them. I've been pleasantly surprised and thankful at the ease that girls have developed since things went upside down. Annie has not skipped a beat. She and Mom have great conversations. One day a while back, Mom asked Annie who someone was. Annie's was response was that she didn't know. Mom replied, "Me either." I had to laugh because it was so sweet and such a blessing that the two of them can connect. In recent days, Mom has consistently known Ellie. I am grateful. Ellie carries her name, and I love the God has given them the ability to still talk about Ellie's art lessons and what Ellie is doing in school. Mollie is much more reserved. She will give Mom a hug, but she is not as much at ease as the other girls.

As we have learned to cope with this new reality, I have found myself longing for normal. I long to be able to call my mama on the phone without knowing that she is waiting with bated breath for caller ID to tell her who is on the other end. Wishing I could scream out, it's just me and not Mom. Our conversations are typically interrupted by Mom calling my mama and begging her to take her home.

Home? What is home? To Mom right now, home is where her Mama  is. I can't even begin to count the number of times I have heard my mother tell Mom that her mother died many years ago. My dad is a bit more factual when she asks him. In a gentle way, he says, "Mrs. Miller, your mama died in 1953." (I think that is the right year, but I can't remember any more.) She is typically pacified for a while before the urge to go home overcomes her being. I've wondered so many times what it is about that time so many years ago that she longs for that makes it stand out in her mind. She talks about her little boy. She forgets that he is well into his 60's. I'm pretty sure she has no idea that she is 88 years old. I know that she is shocked some times when she realizes that Arthur, the man she loves and has been married to for 66 years, is now 88 as well.

I long for the days that our family can have a meal without the interruption of Mom having one of her fits, but that means she will be gone. I struggle with being ok with this. I find peace in the desire that I so want her to not be frightened and not hide in a closet for what seems like hours while her husband (my papa),her  daughter, son-in-law and caretaker search frantically for her. I long for her to be safe in her Savior's arms and with her mama again.

No more fighting the desire for normal. I want my God of the Angel Armies to fight for our family and for Mom to be at peace. For the God of the Angel Armies goes before us and behind us to protect us and to lead us. What amazing comfort there is in this knowledge. I have been overwhelmed by it in the last few weeks.

No more fighting...