Keep Running

I feel like every time I sign on to Facebook (because I'm a terrible news-watcher) I see bad news.  Whether it's the death of someone famous, or the family member of a friend, a beloved pet, or just bad news, I am becoming apprehensive about looking beyond the four walls of my home.

I saw a Facebook post (I told you, I'm a terrible news-watcher) with a listing of all the "bad things" that happened in 2016.  This entire article was based on the negative news that made headlines this past year.  

Looking at this list of all the "bad things" that happened in 2016, I initially thought, "yeah! 2016 can take itself off a cliff!"  I'm currently sitting in my bed, well beyond midnight, having just finished looking through hundreds of photos of my husband...again.  I do this every night.  I miss his ear-to-ear grin, his broad shoulders, and those strong arms that used to hold me.

The wonderful thing about looking through all these photos are the memories that come alive with each picture.  One of two things can happen when I look at these photos:

1) I can look at these photos and smile with each memory.

2) I can look at these photos and curse the fact that it's just a memory.

Several years ago (I won't say how many), my girlfriends and I took a trip to New York.  It was a first for the four of us...no husbands, no kids, nobody but four girls celebrating our 30th birthdays in a city that was new to each of us.  We had the BEST time.  And when I say the BEST time, I mean the.  best. time. EVER.  Four whole days of exploring an incredible city, eating the best food, and creating the most amazing memories (and did I mention no husbands and no kids?).  The trip has made me ache to return to the Big Apple, but it has also made me hesitant because I know that the next time I visit New York it just won't be the same.  How can anything be better than that trip?!  I have spent so much time looking at those photos and reliving that trip in my mind; I know that I will never be able relive or redo that trip.

The most amazing trip EVER

What if you saw me looking through those New York photos, scowling at each picture, and angrily closing the photo book because this trip was so amazing?  What if you heard me say that I'm never going to go back to New York because I know it won't be the same experience?  Would seem a little ridiculous, don't you think?

But how often do we do that when looking back?  How often to we sit in anger or sorrow because we focus on what will never be the same rather than focusing on the incredible things that happened?

Here we are at the end of 2016.  It seems to have been a tough year for many people.  What are you choosing to reflect upon?

It's very easy for me to focus on the last 3 months of 2016.  But if all I focus on is the void in my family, I will forget everything else that I witnessed and experienced this year.  

I witnessed two incredible couples who struggled with fertility welcome two beautiful, healthy baby girls this year.  I watched my daughter overcome her great struggle with anxiety.  I witnessed the answering of bold and specific prayers I laid on God!  I watched the dream between my cousin and I come to fruition with PetuniaDiaries.com.  I went on so many fun dates with my husband!  We had an incredible week-long vacation at the beach!  I watched an entire community come together to love and support my family!  I saw kindness and compassion poured onto my family from people all over the country! 

When I scroll through the thousands (yes, thousands) of photos from this past year, I choose to focus on the smiles.  I choose to remember the laughter.  I choose to view these memories as the gifts that God gave to me because He knew how my year would end.  

My heart will never be the same.  My life will never be the same.  I will never be able to relive those memories or redo those moments.  Like my trip to New York, nothing will ever compare.  

So does that mean I'll never revisit New York?  Does that mean I stay focused on the heartache living in my heart?  Does that mean I shouldn't look forward?

It most certainly does not.  

"... But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13-14

Is Paul suggesting that I forget my beloved?  Is he telling us to just forget those whom we love so dearly and disregard memories?  Not at all!  

Paul's focus was on the goal to complete the race for God, it was the only goal he kept at the forefront of his mind.  Paul's past, his trials, and his difficulties were a part of him and, in my opinion, what made him great.    

When Paul came to know God, he endured many heartbreaking trials - trials that would definitely test my own faith and cause me to wonder why I chose to follow God.  Just a quick peek into some of Paul's suffering: repeated imprisonment, flogging, lashings, beaten with rods, stoned, shipwrecked, continual danger, weary and in pain, sleepless, hungry, thirsty, cold, and naked. (2 Corinthians 11:23-28)  Not only those struggles, but Paul also struggled with a sinful nature, just like the rest of us (Romans 7:15-25).

With everything that Paul endured physically and emotionally, if he stopped for even a moment to focus on his past, he would lose sight of the goal: the crown of victory and the joys of heaven.  How easily would it have been for Paul to look at what he has endured and say, "forget this. I'm done." But he didn't.  He used those hardships and his past to push him towards the goal.

Our past shapes us into who we are meant to be.  Paul doesn't want us to forget our past; he's not suggesting that we live as though nothing ever happened.  But he doesn't want us to stay there.  

Memories are a wonderful thing.  I think God allows our hearts and minds to carry particular moments of time with us always.  I love to look back on the memories made with my husband; I love to revisit those memories made in New York with my girlfriends.  God wants us to have those memories.  But He does not want us to live there.

When we stay focused on our trials, our heartache, and our sufferings, all we see are the things that cause us to stumble and fall.  It's impossible to run towards the goal while continually looking behind.

Have you ever watched the Olympic runners during a race?  They are focused.  They are looking for that finish line.  They have imaginary horse-blinders on and they don't dare lose focus on what's in front of them.  One look to the left, and they will stumble.  One look to the right, and they will lose focus.  One glance behind them and they will fall.  

2016 may have been a difficult year for you.  You may feel the temptation to focus on all the hurtful things that took place.  Don't look to the left of you.  Don't look to the right of you.  Don't look behind you.  In the forefront of your mind look at the wonderful things that happened (I can promise there are good things that happened this year), and focus on the goal set before you.  I'm not talking about resolutions (I never make those because I fail every time).

I'm talking about the goal God placed in your sight.  The crown of victory.  The promise of heaven.  The gift of your salvation.  

The hardships endured in 2016 are shaping you into the person God designed you to be.

You are an athlete for God!  You are running the race!  Keep your focus on the prize set before you!

Be like Paul - let the trials push you forward.  Don't let the hardships hold you back.   

You have cheerleaders all around you. You have a God who is pushing you forward.  You have angels carrying your feet.  Go ahead and glance back when you need the reminder that you can conquer anything.  Glance back when you need to see how far you have come.

Glance.  Don't focus.  Don't stare.  Don't stop.  

Push forward.  Finish the race.

I am running with you.

"I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me.  Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward - to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back." (Philippians 3:12-14; the Message translation)

May 2017 strengthen your faith, build your character, and bring God the glory He deserves!

xoxo

From us to you, Happy New Year!

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Fearfully Faithful

The last time the four of us were together, the day before his funeral.

It's been eight weeks since my world drastically changed.  While everything is still surreal, and there are moments when I almost forget the truth of this reality, there is something that I know to be true...

I am not who I was eight weeks and one day ago.

Eight weeks and one day ago, I was carefree and focused on upcoming events for our family: our daughter's 13th birthday, his mother's 60th birthday weekend celebration, planning our trip to Hawaii next spring, and mapping out our Christmas budget.

Eight weeks and one day ago, my time with God was filled with bold prayers and a hopeful heart; I was in the midst of a 6 month fast (that was one of many blog posts I was writing...I'll get back to that one day) and saw the ways in which God was answering those bold prayers.

Eight weeks and one day ago, I was a completely different person.
Because eight weeks ago everything about me changed.

I have felt many emotions during these last 56 days.  I have had days when I can physically feel the aching of my heart.  I have had moments of overwhelming fear about living this life without my husband.  I have had bursts of tears simply because I miss his voice.  I have also had moments when I feel complete peace, and moments of joyful hope.  But there is one emotion I have not felt: anger.  In all of this, I have not felt any anger.

Because I'm not angry.

When talking to others, some have expressed to me that there are many mornings when they wake up feeling angry, and that anger carries into the rest of their day and unintentionally attacks those with whom they interact.

Am I hurt and upset?  More than I can explain.
But angry?  Not at all.

So what's the difference between me and those who wake up angry?  God.

I'm not gonna lie, I believe I have every reason to be angry. Why was my husband taken from me at such a young age?  Why do my young children have to grow up without their father?  Everything was going so good for us, why now?  I could walk around angry all day long and who would blame me?  I have a valid reason to be angry.

But I'm not.
Because I have God.

Eight weeks and one day ago, I walked next to God.
But eight weeks ago began my journey of clinging onto God.

Have you heard this quote before?  I have.  Several times.  And it's a favorite of mine to repeat when I am reminding others about reliance on God.  

It's the absolute truth:  "you never know God is all you need until God is all you have."  

Each of us, at some point in our lives, will have trials that demand complete dependency on God.  It could be a battle for health, the loss of a job, an estranged relationship, anything!  Trials and heartache are not prejudice.  We will all experience a trial that will leave us standing still and wondering why we have to endure hardship.  

Trials are the test of your faith.  The test of your heart.  The test of your reliance on God.

One of the hardest things for me to do is watch my children suffer.  I want to immediately fix everything.  I want to come to their rescue, make their life easy, and keep them from ever hurting.  

But what would happen to them if I never let them hurt?  

They would never mature.  They would never grow.  They would never learn to persevere.

"We are full of joy even when we suffer. We know that our suffering gives us the strength to go on. The strength to go on produces character.  Character produces hope. And hope will never bring us shame. That's because God's love has been poured into our hearts. This happened through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5 (NIRV)

There is a purpose behind every trial we endure.  And it's not because our God is "mean."  He's the exact opposite.  We serve a God who weeps with us; a God who wraps us in His comfort; a God who wants to give us every desire within our hearts.  

When my children are hurting, I do my best to comfort them and ease their heavy hearts.  But I don't rush to fix their problems.  I believe in each of them.  I know what they can and cannot handle.  I have faith in my children, and I rejoice over them when they persevere through difficulty.

God feels the same way about each of us.

He doesn't allow trials because he us wants to suffer.  He wants to see us grow.

He wants to see us persevere.  

He has so much faith in us!

And like the perfect Father that He is, He allows us to experience heartache.

Without the heartache, would we cling to Him?  Or would we just casually walk beside Him?

Without the trials, would we ever cry out to Him?  Or would we go days without seeking Him?

I am not the same person I was eight weeks and one day ago.

I am different.

I am clinging on to God tighter than ever before.

My entire being is completely reliant on God.

I've acknowledged out loud that I cannot do this without Him.

My prayers are not rehearsed. My prayers change everyday. I cry out to Him more times in an hour than I used to all day long.

You know what I am now?

I am fearfully faithful.

I am not fearful of God.

I am fearful of going a day without Him.

I remember asking a girlfriend, "if God was all you had, would that be enough?"

And now here I am, asking myself the same question every day.

God is all I need.  I have wept loudly, quietly, and honestly with God.  I have asked Him why.  I have collapsed into His comfort, and I have allowed Him to quiet my tears.  

I am not who I was eight weeks and one day ago.

And I am thankful that I am not.

I am a witness to God's strength, His love, His comfort, and His promises.

When we cling onto God, it's impossible to be angry because as we hold onto Him, we are covered in His love and His hope.

Therefore, I will walk through this trial, clinging onto God for strength, and holding onto His promises.

For He is the perfect Father.

And like a daughter dependent on her father, I trust Him.

xoxo

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18 days ago

Fire Engineer Ryan Osler (photo: Jennifer Osler)

18 days ago my world stopped.

I always knew that each time my husband left our home there was a possibility that he may not return.  Somewhere in my mind I tucked away the knowledge that he would willingly risk his life for someone else.  "It's the job," I'd tell myself.  I prided myself on being a fire-wife, able to hold down the fort while my husband was away from home serving the community.  

I prayed for his safety, we talked about the dangers of his job with our kids, but we never imagined this would actually hit our family.

But then, it did.

The call I prayed I would never receive suddenly landed on the phone in my lap.  I was almost to work, and thank God, I was the passenger in the car as my mom drove us to the office.  

It was the Chief of the department.  "There was an accident..."

For the next torturous hour on the ride home, I felt as though the seatbelt was keeping me from breathing.  I was a mixture of screams and tears.  

"This isn't real.  He's coming home.  He has to come home..."

My mother felt helpless in the driver's seat, trying to get to my house as fast as possible.  I'm not sure how she was able to drive; being a mother, I can only imagine how she must've felt having to witness the shattering of her daughter's heart.

Standing in the driveway of my home was the chaplain of the department. I couldn't move as I felt my arms drop to my sides while my body folded in half.  Someone was trying to get me out of the car, a mixture of kisses and tears were flooding my face...it was my dad.  Somehow I gained composure, looked the Chaplain in the eyes and before he said a word, I asked him if my mother-in-law heard about her son.

Less than an hour later, I was face to face with Chiefs and Captains of the department.  Each of them hugging me and offering condolences.  The Chief apologized for telling me over the phone, but he feared I would hear talk about the death of a firefighter through the media grapevine.  He had every reason to be fearful because it wasn't long after that that I was reading a news article about the sudden and tragic death of a local firefighter.  

And there it was:  his name.  

Before I could take another step, I was advised to go to the schools of my children so I could tell them about their father before they heard it from someone else.  With my best friend, my husband's best friend, the chaplain, and a Chief, we headed to each of the kids' schools.

I walked into each school office with a group of solemn faces behind me.  I requested to have each of my kids summoned from their class.  The Chief and the Chaplain hid themselves from sight, speaking with school officials to let them know why we were there.  

Two different schools.  Two different children.  Both with the same question as soon as they saw me..."Mommy, what's wrong?"  I wrapped them each in my arms before pulling away, grabbing their precious faces and looking into their eyes as I had to tell them about their Daddy.

The rest of the day is a blur.  People were coming and going; news vans were driving up my street; my phone was constantly ringing; I was standing still in a world of chaos.

But my world stopped.

It's been 18 days since my husband died.  20 days since I last saw him.  21 days since our last date.

21 years since he asked me to be his girlfriend.  16 years since I became his bride.

My heart is experiencing an ache that is impossible to describe.  I've been trying.  I've been searching for words to explain the depth of the ache in my soul.

For a few days after the news of my husband's passing, I couldn't even go to God.  What was there to say to Him?  He could see my shattered heart, He could hear my tears, and He could read my thoughts.  

On the 5th day, I finally went to Him.  I sat in the prayer space of my closet that my husband created for me, I opened up my journal and I prayed:

"It's been 5 days since my world stopped.  ... This morning, God, I feel at peace.  I know it's the thousands of prayers that have been said on our behalf and I pray that those prayers don't stop.

God, I'm begging for your strength and your wisdom.  As peaceful as I feel right now in these moments, I know there will be times when I lose sight.  I pray that you will protect me, guard my heart, and keep the enemy's lies from me.  I know the enemy wants me to blame you and hate you, I pray that I continue to hear those whispers as lies.  Please continue to show yourself to me in ways I can clearly see you.

God, I pray that you stay especially close to my children.  ... God, my children are about to begin a journey that is going to be filled with emptiness at times.  I pray that you fill their hearts with your love and they feel their hearts lighten.

God, I know you are a God of love and I know you would never want to hurt me.  I know you are hurting with me, but I also know you see a bigger picture than what I see in front of me.

God, I pray that your peace stays with me today.  ... Father, I know and trust that you have something incredible planned. ... God, I am so thankful for your church; I am so thankful for the way you orchestrated my life so that I could be here.  The love and the warmth from them is the evidence of your love for me, and I am grateful.

Please stay close to me and the kids.  Please keep showing yourself to me in ways that I can see/feel you.  I love you.  I need you.  I trust you."

Each morning since then, I have made sure to spend time with God.  Each day I pour out my heart which is filled with questions and uncertainties, but also faith and gratitude.

I have been truly, truly overwhelmed with the outpouring of love from all areas of the country.  The generosity of strangers for a hero they never met has left me speechless.  I have received hundreds of emails, text messages, and private social media messages, from friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers.  With every word that has been typed, written, and spoken to me, I truly believe each is a love note from God.

I trust God wholeheartedly.  I would love to fast forward and get to the part when it all makes sense, but in the meantime, I will lean against His strength, His love, and His comfort.  As broken as I feel, God is desperately wanting to piece me back together.  

And He will.

And I will be stronger.

I will be faithful.

I will be whole.

Because I am His.

xoxo

My children and I heading into my husband's funeral. (Photo credit: Adam VanGerpen)

Our last hug, captured by our daughter, on the night he left.

  

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From My Heart

I'm not one to push a product or a website, but this one is very dear to my heart.

As you may have read in a previous post, my grandfather passed away nearly 6 months ago after being diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer only two months prior to his passing.  My family was delivered devastating news with hardly any time to process the enormous loss we would soon face.  

My grandfather was given his diagnosis in October, so as we crept up to the holiday season, my cousin and I were trying to find a way to encourage our grandparents during this difficult time.  My sweet cousin, Katie, came up with the idea of sending scriptures to our grandparents for daily encouragement beginning December 1st leading up to Christmas day.  

Together, my cousin and I searched through our bibles, finding scripture that not only encouraged us, but would remind our grandparents of the glorious day that was ahead for our grandfather.  We quickly printed scriptures on individual pieces of paper, enclosed them in an envelope and instructed our grandparents to open one envelope each day and read the scripture together.  

Every day, until December 25th, our grandparents read scripture together and then hung each card on a ribbon in their hallway to allow themselves the reminder of God's promises.

My grandfather closed his eyes to the world only four days after Christmas.

Our grandmother shared with us that she continued to reread the cards everyday and she had actually begun to memorize each scripture (that's a lot of scripture - I still have a hard time memorizing one!).

Seeing the encouragement our grandparents felt, and the encouragement my grandmother was still receiving, Katie and I were compelled to do something greater with God's word.

And so, Petunia Diaries was born.

Katie and I have joined together to continue sharing encouragement with the world around us.  Our homemade, home printer quality encouragement cards have been revamped into beautiful personally designed, professionally printed cards that can be used for anything your heart desires.  Send a note of encouragement to someone in need; place your favorite card in a frame to keep in your home, or you can do like I do - I keep several cards tacked to a cork board in my "war room" for daily encouragement and reminders of God's love.

Are you wondering why we chose the name Petunia Diaries?

It comes directly from our hearts.  Our grandmother would lovingly refer to each of us as her petunia, and since this project began with our grandparents, we wanted to incorporate something sentimental in our name.  

Ever since I was a little girl (7 years old, to be exact), I've always kept some type of diary or journal to record my deepest thoughts, my heartfelt desires, and my intimate prayers.  Diaries are the place where we are free to expose our hearts.

So, in a way, we are sharing our diary with you.  

Please stop by our Etsy shop and take a look around.  We are just beginning and are planning to have many more wonderful things available to you (we already sold out of our journals - can't believe it!).  

As a special THANK YOU to all of my subscribers, we are offering a 10% discount off your entire order (coupon code: SSfriends - this code expires on 06/21/16). 

I am SO thankful for each of you and the many ways you have encouraged me over the last couple of years as I have shared my "diary" with you through this blog.  Each of you mean so much to me, and I am truly so thankful for your continued support.  

"Love one another..." (1 John 3:23)

Thank you for loving me.

xoxo

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"It's Just Church"

We recently celebrated Mother's Day.  It's taken me a few (ok, several) years not to have expectations for this day.  Not that my husband has ever overlooked this day since I first became a mother, but because no matter what he did, I thought he could've done something a little bit better, a little bit sweeter, or a little more sentimental.  The poor guy never stood a chance against the made-for-film Mother's Day I imagined in my mind.

So, the last few years, I've learned to recognize my husband's sweet efforts rather than pick them apart.  This year, I was so impressed with his gift giving skills.  He bought a cork board for my closet.  Before you scratch your head in confusion, let me tell you that this cork board meant more to me than a fancy handbag or expensive shoes.  The reason it meant so much to me is because several months ago I mentioned that I wanted a cork board for my prayer space because the sticky notes I purchased don't stick to the wall very well.  It was a simple sentence that I didn't expect to last in his mind, especially because it slipped mine repeatedly.

That was my only gift.  And it was the only one I wanted.  It was the only one I forgot that I had even mentioned.  My heart was bursting at the seams over my new cork board (complete with decorative pushpins).

And then, my bubble popped.  My husband said something to me that he hasn't said in years.  And he said it in front of my children.  We were all sitting on my bed when my husband said, "don't go to church.  Let's stay home and just relax.  We can stay in our pj's, watch movies all day and just relax..."  The background noise was that of my two children: "ooh yeah, Mommy!  Let's stay home! I want to go back to sleep! C'mon, Mom!  I don't want to go to church!"  My husband's smile was as big as the sun on a summer day.  He was acting as though he just solved the problem of world hunger.  And the kids were cheering him on.

That sounded like such an ideal morning.  I hesitated.  Then I said, "no, I'm going to church.  You don't have to come with me, but I'm gonna go."  Everyone's cheers suddenly became groans.  My daughter's teenage attitude erupted because she was annoyed.  My son thew his head back and whined as though I just took away his favorite video game.  My husband put a hand on my leg and said, "come on...it's just church..."

"It's just church."

Years ago, my husband and I had a long talk about my need for God and His church.  We had to have this talk because many, many years before that my husband loved to talk me out of going to church.  He promised to make me breakfast, take me on shopping sprees, day trips, anything that could bribe me into staying away from church.  I let those bribes work.  And do you know what happens when you don't regularly spend time with God and the fellowship of His church?  You slowly start pulling away.  It becomes easier and easier to stay away.  And suddenly, you haven't been to church in so long that it feels weird to go back.

And, if you're anything like me, once the accountability is gone the old habits come rushing back.  I eventually stopped going to church.  My marriage was falling apart.  I was drinking, smoking, cussing, and partying as if I were a young, single girl.  But I wasn't.  I was a wife.  I was a mother.

I missed God so much, but I didn't know how to go back.  I was ashamed and embarrassed because I walked away.  I tried everything to fill that void, but I was never satisfied.  

Finally the day came when I couldn't stand another minute without God.  I called a friend from church and asked her to pick me up and take me to church.  I didn't trust myself to actually walk in the door once I was there.

When I walked into the church building, I was covered with an overwhelming sense of relief.  I was home.  And I never wanted to leave again.

As I was falling in love with God and giving my heart back to Him, I knew I had another man who wanted the entirety of my heart, as well.

It was time to tell my husband that God is, and was going to be, my first priority.

I think I just blurted it out one night: "I have to go to church.  I need God."  My husband was very supportive, after all we had just reconciled our marriage after being separated for a long time.

"No, I don't think you understand.  God has to be first, then you."  He didn't like the direction of our conversation.  "Please don't ask me to compromise Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights.  I want to be at church.  I need it."

I needed to lay down the foundation that God is first and I will not compromise my time with Him.  And with that foundation in place, my husband was able to see that I was a better wife.  I was a better mom.  My overall being was just better.

For years since then, my husband has never asked me to skip church.  Until the other day.

I immediately heard myself entertain the idea: "what's the harm in skipping church here and there?  We rarely get these mornings together.  And it's Mother's Day.  Totally understandable."

But then I looked at my children and their faces begging me to stay home:  "If I decide to stay home, what does that say to my kids?  It's ok to skip church because I'm feeling lazy?  Would it look like I put God first, or me?"

I scooted myself out of bed, much to the disapproval of my family, and started to get myself ready for church.  This was the first time I didn't tell my children to get themselves ready for church.  I silently got ready and tried not to imagine the pathetic picture of me sadly moping into church, having to tell everyone that on Mother's Day my family allowed me to attend church alone.

As I was putting together the final touches, I noticed that my husband was getting himself ready.  My daughter poked her head into my bathroom to ask if she could borrow my perfume.  I could hear my son downstairs looking for his shoes.

Before I knew it, the four of us were in the car and on our way to church.  Nobody complained.  Nobody whined.  Nobody had an attitude.

And when it came time to pray with the congregation, I grabbed my husband's hand and thanked God for the best Mother's Day gift ever.

The gift of my husband.  The gift of my children.

The gift of my salvation.

The gift of His love.

The gift of His grace.

Because it's not "just church."  It's my foundation.

xoxo

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