Laying Our Son to Rest

God, in His mercy, numbed my feelings and emotions for the first few weeks in the shock of my middle son's unexpected death. Outwardly, it looked as if I wasn't grieving. Inwardly, disbelief reverberated. Now that the funeral is over, my emotions are coming to the surface more. But, the time leading up to the funeral was so busy, we hardly had time to think or emote. 

We were blessed by countless people who came forward to love and support us in this trial. I kept wishing Trevor could see all the expressions of love and appreciation others felt for him and for us, through him. My friend, Heidi, told me she's convinced he does know. She wrote, "After my mom died, I had a vision/visitation of her sitting next to me and telling me that the pain she went through was gone and that ALL was known - she was SO happy! I believe ALL is now known to Trevor, including the love people have expressed during the last week and the love and support you and family gave during his life." This was such a comforting thought to share!

The day after Trevor's death, our oldest son, Bryce, flew from Dallas to be with us. What a comfort and blessing his presence brought! Somehow, it made the grief more bearable. Plus, he was invaluable to us. He set to work on a photo slideshow to put up on the funeral home's obituary page. He scoured my phone and my computer for images. He must have asked John, as well, because he used an impressive photo of Trevor's bodybuilding physique (some wondered if it was AI).

I'm sure Bryce emphasized photos from his earlier years, happy years before the drug associations and drug use. He was our exuberant little boy, and we have many fond memories of those carefree days. It was a big help and huge blessing to have Bryce handle that important piece. He was also helpful during the necessary meetings. When we met with the funeral director, Bryce took notes. He compiled and sent us a file of things to do (it all would have disappeared from my consciousness quickly). He accompanied us to select and purchase a gravesite (near his grandmother's headstone). He, again, took notes throughout our meeting with the pastor, as we arranged the funeral service songs and order.

God brought me to the wonderful songs that we used for his service. I came across "Approach, My Soul," by John Newton, in the Sing Hymnal I received for Mother's Day. We printed this inside the memory folder passed out to those in attendance. The words emphasize our desperate need of God's salvation and His gift of eternal life: "Bowed down beneath a load of sin, by Satan sorely pressed, by wars without and fears within, I come to Thee for rest... guilty sinners such as I might plead Thy gracious name!"

We used "It is Well," by Horatio Spafford, to signal the start of the service. This hymn was written in great grief after the unexpected deaths of his four daughters in a shipwreck. Crossing the exact site of their drowning, Spafford penned words to affirm his deep trust in God amid inexplicable loss. For the condensed slideshow, we selected Casting Crowns' song, "Scars in Heaven." The lyrics gutted me: "If I had only known the last time would be the last time." "What I'd give for one more day with you." "I know you're in a place where all your wounds have been erased, and knowing yours are healed is healing mine."

"He Will Hold Me Fast" was supposed to play after the family reflections, but it came after the eulogy. I love these lyrics, as well: "When the tempter would prevail, He will hold me fast. I could never keep my hold through life's fearful path, for my love is often cold. He must hold me fast... He'll not let my soul be lost, his promises shall last. Bought by Him at such great cost, He will hold me fast." What a beautiful arrangement by Kristyn and Keith Getty! What a solid proclamation of God's unending grace!

I doubt people really took in the lyrics to the departing song, "Christ is Mine Forevermore." This was another one found in The Sing Hymnal with poignant lyrics: "Mine are days that God has numbered. I was made to walk with Him; yet, I look for worldly treasure and forsake the King of Kings... Christ has paid for every failing, I am His forevermore... Mine are tears in times of sorrow, darkness not yet understood. Through the valley I must travel where I see no earthly good... I know my pain will not be wasted."

My sister-in-law, Miriam, was a great help for the family fellowship prior to the funeral. As I said, I'm not a gifted hostess. I don't easily whip up meals on command, even on a normal day, let alone a stressful one. After Miriam arrived and set out a spread of desserts and drinks, she agreed to look over my outfit choices. We ended up running back to Kohl's to exchange a top for a smaller size (I tend to seek very roomy clothes). I so appreciated her time and attention to these needs.

The time together in our home with family was beneficial and comforting. We talked about old times and memories of Trevor. Thankfully, Bryce and Elizabeth ran to get a large quantity of Chik-fil-A, so meal needs were met and I was able to set out the spread of veggies and snacks I had purchased for the gathering. On one end of our table, all the engineers talked engineering and the other end rehashed stories and spoke of my youngest brother's architectural projects. Many family members did not arrive until late the night before the funeral and my brother Mark's family drove up from Kentucky for the day. We had family come in from many other corners: Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Texas.

Blogger that I am, I wanted photos, but knew I'd be preoccupied and unable. My sister agreed to help. I'm sure it was uncomfortable trying to snap images in a room of grieving guests. She did an outstanding job, as evidenced by the photos accompanying this funeral recap post.

The hardest part was viewing his empty body. Trevor, of course, did not look like Trevor. He was not there. It was a vessel devoid of his spark and spirit. I could not have captured an image of his body. Dawn delicately snapped this shot:

We said our good-byes and let the grief wash over us. I told him, "I wanted more time!" Then, we allowed his girlfriend time to say her good-byes. 

Next, came a blur of greeting people who attended the visitation. A member of my BSF group came by briefly to bring flowers and give a hug. Four friends from the Women Forming Friendships in West Indy Facebook group came to offer comfort. Five of our friends drove all the way from Champaign-Urbana, IL. My college best friend, Anne, came all the way from Lombard, IL. I was sad that I only snagged a few moments with her as the press of people kept coming. Both Bryce's and Sean's friends came. Trevor had probably 7 or 8 friends from middle and high school years who came. A few of the girls in that group were kind enough to come express condolences. 

Trevor's 2nd grade teacher came up to tell me how sad she was because he had shown such great potential. Many individuals came from Pittsboro Baptist Church. Here are some images of family members who came:

I was blown away by Trevor's halfway house leader, Damien, who took an Uber all the way from Indianapolis to our little rural enclave. He had only known Trevor for less than two weeks (and knowing Trevor, he probably hadn't interacted much). We gave Damien a ride to the burial and learned that he, too, (like my husband) is from Champaign-Urbana.

Thanks to the funeral director's wife, you can view a video of the funeral here. After the condensed slideshow and a welcome, John's sister Martha read John's comments and shared some of her own memories of Trevor. I wasn't sure I'd make it through mine, but the humorous bits helped me stay composed.

The burial was a brief affair (good, since it was 95 degrees out) with prayer and committal. 

Then, Pittsboro Baptist Church provided a marvelous meal for family and friends. After the meal, my sister and brother-in-law treated many family members and Damien to ice cream at the local Dairy Bar. 

We got Damien into an Uber back to the halfway house and many descended back into our home for further fellowship. I relished time with Trevor's cousins. Now, the grief is truly descending and intensifying. 

Some may question my son's walk with God, because he used drugs. One even shared a prayer, "What joy it will be IF we get to heaven and discover Trevor is there.... We pray that Trevor in some way... [had] things straight with You [God] before this terrible occasion." I know my son's spiritual foundation was not built on what he did, but on what Christ did for him. I liken it to my mother's Alzheimer's. She raged and cursed. That was not my mother; it was her diseased brain. Drugs had altered Trevor's brain, rewiring to tell him drugs were his best solution to his pain. He responded physiologically, not spiritually. 

Every day, I wake with the realization that my son is no longer with us here on earth. I take comfort, because of his trust in Christ's atoning act on the cross, and believe we will be reunited one day in Heaven. Others may scoff and weep for his lost soul; I claim the atoning cross of Christ and His promise of eternal life. If you have not trusted in Christ, consider the gospel message (proclaimed in Trevor's funeral) and accept the free gift of eternal life. May Trevor, in death, reach more than we had hoped and prayed in life.

Losing Our Precious Son

Parenting a wayward child is an exhausting and distressing role. We have gone back and forth trying to determine what is the best way to respond and help our addicted son, Trevor. I will admit, we have not always been in agreement. Much of this stems from my husband's personal experience with an addicted sibling who took his life. I think he was desperate to come to a different conclusion with his son.

From day one, Trevor was very much like his Uncle Rob. He did things with vehemence. Most recently, his driven, give-it-all mentality zeroed in on his bodybuilding. Here is a photo of him flexing:

Unfortunately, he relapsed at the end of May. At 2 a.m., there was no way to take him to a treatment center, so we took him to the ER. They would only release him into a residential treatment center (good for them!) At first, still under the influence of the drugs, he refused to stay for the 28-day treatment. He wanted to leave after the initial 7-day detox period. My husband wanted to let him come back home. In my opinion, that would only enable him to go back to using (our home is where this all began). I began to pray importunately for God to change their minds. Praise God! My husband told him he couldn't come home and Trevor decided he would stick out the program.

Of course, he had to detox from everything (including the Retitrutide weight loss drugs he was injecting and the steroids he was taking to enhance his bodybuilding). He said they had snacks available everywhere and he had to get some dopamine somehow, so he ate himself into a 60-pound weight gain. The relapse was a crushing blow! The loss of his intentions to participate in a bodybuilding competition in August was a devastating blow! From there, things continued to spiral.

He moved from the treatment center into a halfway house in Indianapolis. We knew this wasn't the best plan (after all, he knew where to access drugs in Indy), but he wasn't moving home, either. He was living in Indy, working at a Steak 'n Shake in Brownsburg, and visiting his girlfriend in Kirklin. Many miles driven at a time when gas prices are high. He couldn't even break even.

Then came some relationship difficulties. I think his girlfriend had made it very clear to him that she was clean and she would not remain with someone who uses. The friction and pain escalated. He responded in very unhealthy ways. When he posted something on Instagram saying, "Hope you all enjoyed the sh!t show," we were terrified he intended to find drugs.

Then, on July 3rd, he was coming to our home to pick up some food. He said he was crying and couldn't see clearly. He plowed into the front end of another vehicle that had turned into a subdivision just in front of him. His car was totaled and he knew we had vowed not to replace it (we'd already helped him purchase 3 vehicles). I'm sure his mind was reeling. No car. No way to get from Indy to his job or to visit his girlfriend. Not to mention, the possibility that the other driver might sue him for his fault in the accident. He was suicidal. He did not want to live. I took him in my arms and he just sobbed. We prayed with him. He agreed to go to a psych hospital as soon as his girlfriend could take him after she finished work. While waiting, he called and learned the commitment time was 7-14 days. He decided he didn't want to lose his bed, his job, or his upcoming court date, so he found an outpatient psych therapy that he could do in the halfway house from his phone.

On July 4th, he posted photos of himself at a party holding a beer can. His younger brother tried to tell him these decisions were unwise. On July 5th, I drove to his halfway house to take him to work. I bought him a pizza because his house meeting had gone long and he'd had no dinner. That's the last time I saw my beloved boy.

On July 6th, he took an Uber to work. While at work, he kept going to the bathroom. Finally, he went to the bathroom and did not come out. A coworker knew Sean's phone number because Sean used to work there. She called to tell him there was an incident with Trevor and they needed a family member there immediately. After my husband headed to the restaurant, the coworker called back. Sean said he knew it was bad when she couldn't talk. He then came in to gently wake me and share that "there was an incident at the Steak 'n Shake, and he's gone." I shot up. My initial thought was I wanted to see him and hold him one more time. I didn't think I could drive, so Sean drove me over. They would not let me near his body. We were there until midnight speaking with detectives, officers, and the coroner.

This week has been a whirlwind of planning and details. It feels like every minute I have something else to think about or address. I'm holding together fine (probably helped by the antidepressant medication I'm on), but my husband is grieving intensely. I'm glad Trevor is no longer in the intense emotional pain he was carrying. I'm glad he no longer has to struggle and fight this demon.

If you want to view his obituary, a photo slideshow, and a remembrance journal, you can follow this link. We also set up a Trevor Hill Addiction Memorial Fund. Now begins the dreadful process of learning to live without him. After picking our oldest son, Bryce, up from the airport, we stopped to get Chinese carry-out. As I went in to pick up the food, I realized we will never be able to eat inside that restaurant again. Trevor loved to eat there and ate with gusto. Then, on Thursday, I finally managed to get in a walk. I used to always spend most of my walks praying about Trevor. That was a crushing moment.

Please pray for our family as we walk this difficult road. Even though I had irrationally wanted to see him on the night of his death, I know that the most difficult moment will be when we come for the visitation and see him laid out, a shell of the person he once was, devoid of his spark. I have asked to speak a few words. I am praying I am not incapacitated with grief. Pray we will hold up as they lower his body into the ground, in a finality that cannot be erased. We are heart-sick and deeply saddened by the loss of our precious son.

Book Review: The Well-Watered Woman

I appreciate author Jordan Raynor's weekly book recommendations (although, I realize, many he hasn't actually read). When he mentioned Gretchen Saffles' book, The Well-Watered Woman, I noted it on my endless reading wish list. Then, I experienced a God-thing a few months back, repeatedly encountering the story of the woman at the well. Each time, the teaching held a little different angle. By the fifth time, it was clearly something God wanted me to camp on for a time. So, I returned to this title and checked out the audio version. This is an excellent, Bible-rich book.

The Well-Watered Woman encourages readers to seek the well of living water, the word of freedom, and the way of fruitfulness. Every chapter presents a hypothetical thirsty woman. This taps into each of our longings and needs. She outlines the transaction: bring your nothing; receive His everything. She asks, "Are you trusting in Jesus plus something... or are you trusting Jesus alone?" 

The Word is our water - Deposit truth so you can withdraw during times of drought.

The Word is our protection - "We fight from the victory of Jesus, not for victory. Victory has already been claimed at the cross."

The Word is our roots - "Every desert season has a purpose--nothing is wasted in the kingdom of God."

I loved her encouragement to look for gospel intersections everywhere. It brought me back to my verse of the year (2 Cor. 2:14) and my daily pursuit to live out the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. I loved another beautiful section where she spoke of often overlooked wildflowers. Growth may be ongoing, even when it is underground or unnoticed. Some blooms take years to develop and bud. Moroever, she reminds that the well-watered woman lives a counter-cultural life. Does my life look too much like the world? Do I blend in or stand out for God?

For more from this author, seek her ministry, The Well-Watered Woman, which she has based on Isaiah 58:11 ("And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not." KJV)

Mid-month Mention: So Grateful

This month, I am deeply grateful for one special thing! I am fully writing again! My son's near death by overdose in June 2023 derailed my mojo. For 14 months, I could not work on writing projects. I was able to read and maintain my blog. My daily morning pages still came without effort. But, I couldn't rouse myself to approach a project. 

On the first day of September, I decided if I couldn't write, then I could devote a half hour each day to seeking markets for what I've already written. Marketing my novels seemed too ambitious, so I focused on magazine markets. I stumbled upon Just Between Us, a Christian digital magazine founded by author Jill Briscoe. The magazine had a call for articles with a 9/1 deadline. I felt I had just the piece, so I pulled it out and re-wrote it to the specifications they gave. I really didn't expect much after so many months of discouragement. Two days later, I received an acceptance letter. My article, "When the Journey Becomes the Gift," will air on 11/25/25 in the Just Between Us digital magazine. You can subscribe to the magazine here.

This was just the encouragement my heart needed. A few days later, I wrote a flash fiction piece under 500 words and entered it into a competition (judging does not occur until January). I scoured the internet for contests and calls for submissions. In mid-October, I started working on a book project. It is something I had considered doing prior to my liminal period. Since I have already been charting my purging progress, I added this component to my daily tallies (sadly, the purging has almost evaporated with this new pursuit). 

September started tentatively, only working 43% of the days in that month. I wrote and submitted 2 pieces and worked on market research (easier than writing). My September total was 12 hours devoted to these writing endeavors. In October, I spent 100 minutes in research and worked on two different pieces. I wrote on 15 of the 31 days in October for a total of 11.5 hours. My word tally came to 8786 words (nothing near what I used to complete when I did Nanowrimo). I tried to enter into this slowly.

In November, I set a new goal. I wanted to write at least 1000 words a day. While I haven't managed that every day, for the first 16 days in November, I wrote an average of 1267 words per day. I spent 18.5 hours writing with a total of 20,274 words in the first half of the month. This is worth a mid-month mention! This is huge for me! I'm so very grateful! Stay tuned for a post on 11/25/25 with direct links to my article.

Book Review: The Sacredness of Secular Work

The subtitle to this book is a mouthful, but articulates the major thrust of Jordan Raynor's message. The full title is The Sacredness of Secular Work: 4 Ways Your Job Matters for Eternity (Even When You're Not Sharing the Gospel). Famous for his theology of work, Raynor emphasizes our need to address the First Commission in addition to the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20 "Go and make disciples of all nations...") What is that First Commission? It is the call to create things, places, and people that reflect His glory. Your witness for the Lord woos more people than sharing the "Romans Road." What you say and do matters for the kingdom!

It is important to realize that God delights in the work of your hands. Your excellence in hairstyling, in teaching, in sanitation work... it all can bring God glory. Raynor pleads that your work has intrinsic value of eternal significance. I loved his admonition to follow William Wilberforce's example. This man could have left politics once he became a Christian; instead, he remained to play a key role in abolishing the slave trade. He created "launcher" topics for individuals he might meet, to help lead them from surface to serious to spiritual conversation. Raynor suggests you create a list of launchers and even helps you create those through the excellent resources available online with this book.

Doing whatever work your hand finds to do, and doing it to the best of your ability, shines forth for God. I need this message just as much as workers who earn a wage for their secular work. While I earn no wage, I do work. I keep a home and raise my remaining son. My book reviews, on this blog, further the writing work of others. My participation in various book clubs allows me an opportunity to meet and touch the lives of others. How I pray I will one day hear, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!" May my "work" live on into eternity, as Tolkien's "Leaf by Niggle." (If you're unfamiliar with that story, look it up. It is well worth investigating. Or, read this book. Raynor outlines Tolkien's story and its important message within these pages.)

Book Review: Becoming Elisabeth Elliot

When I was at Wheaton College, I befriended a floor-mate named Andrea Howard. She was delightful (spunky, funny, fun). It was interesting to learn about Elisabeth Elliot (Andrea's aunt) and the story of her husband's martyrdom in the jungle of Ecuador. Once, while at Wheaton, Elisabeth came to the college to deliver a lecture. I own 2 of her books about Jim Elliot and love a particular quote from him I found once in Paula Rinehart's Better Than My Dreams. Thus, when Sara Brunsvold mentioned Ellen Vaughn's 2-part biography of Elisabeth Elliot, I was eager to dive in.

Becoming Elisabeth Elliot shares the initial parts of Elisabeth's life (her growth, her courtship, her loss of her first husband, and her struggles with her missionary role). It is clear, God's ways are not our ways. From the very beginning of her missionary career, she faced obstacles head on. After nine months of work on the Colorado language, all of her linguistic notes, files, charts, etc. went missing when someone stole her suitcase off a truck. Despite frustration, she accepted God's will and termed it her "school year." No explanation could suffice. She wrote, "Faith's most severe tests come not when we see nothing, but when we see a stunning array of evidence that seems to prove our faith vain. If God were God, if He were omnipotent, if He had cared, would this have happened?... It was a long time before I came to the realization that it is in our acceptance of what is given that God gives Himself." For her, it came down to obedience, regardless of the cost.

In another passage, toward the end, Vaughn writes, "For Betty, the sad days weren't times to be denied, suppressed, or avoided. Betty's medical training, and her theology, did not allow her to deny the existence of pain... It showed God was at work. If she walked the path of obedience, He would in fact use her very pain for His good purposes. But the problem with pain is that it hurts."

Anyone who has encountered unexplainable suffering will find comfort and hope in these pages about Elisabeth Eliot's life. She was not a saint. She had her own personal quirks and personality edges. Yet, her life is a primer for accepting God's will, even when it is hard and makes little sense. We must accept His will even when the outcomes remain unquantifiable. Elisabeth Elliot's pain and struggles drove her to deeper obedience than sunshine and flowers ever would. May I remember her example when I'm called to walk a hard road. This honest 2-part biography would be a fine addition to a personal library.

Book Review: This Must Be the Place

Sara Brunsvold recommended This Must Be the Place by Jami Nato. Sara's words were a siren song to me: "It’s the kind of book that you have to sit with. And it’s the kind of book that will always guide you from dark places back to laughter and hope." She offered a warning about the mild use of profanity, but I was game to see how my own bread crumbs in life lead me back to the purpose for which God has formed me.

Sometimes, things in our lives seem incongruent with God's plan. We think to ourselves, as Jami did, "Surely God couldn't want marital infidelity! Divorce can't be within God's plan." Or my question, "How could God allow a broken leg and the prescription for opioids?" Descent into addiction must be a departure from God's will and plan. Right? It would be wonderful if we could always say with certainty that God's will  is only for good paths and not bad ones. Jami Nato is not saying God causes marital infidelity, divorce, opioid use, addiction, or any other trial we encounter, as His divine will. Only that God allows these negative blips in our life stories to shape and form us into exactly who He wants us to be. If we trace the paths we have crossed, we often come to see a vision and purpose that God is shaping us for within those negative influences.

Jami Nato wants us to see that our past, present, and future can serve as a compass. She suggests a deep look at where God has been, where He is, and where He is going before you. As I reiterated to my prodigal son after listening to this book, "Nothing is an accident! Every positive and negative in your life is leading to God's gifting you in perfect ways for the ministry He desires you to fulfill." I wanted to go back into the e-book version so I could answer the questions provided at the end of each chapter and chart out a deeper understanding of what God might shape me to do. As I've said before, our God wastes nothing! He will take what looks like the worst thing (I'm remembering that minor story in The Wright Brothers) and turn it into the best thing to mold you for His purpose.

Content caution: 📒 - language

Book Review: Waiting Isn't a Waste - Highly Recommend

How thrilling to find another book by Mark Vroegop. Last year, I highly recommended his book on lament, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy. Once again, I felt drawn to his subject; this time, it was because we are waiting for God to break the chains of addiction that bind our son. In Waiting Isn't a Waste: The Surprising Comfort of Trusting God in the Uncertainties of Life, Vroegop unpacks something we'd all rather avoid. There's treasure in learning how to wait well. 

I started this book the morning after a full day of waiting. Knowing our son's wedding would keep us up late, we rejected the early morning direct flight home and took one departing at 8 p.m. After spending the day sitting around in the hotel lobby, they delayed our departure another hour. We headed to the airport anyway and waited again. As we sat near our gate, watching the flight before ours load, we noticed a disturbance on the floor by the doorway. A young girl of about 7 or 8 was pitching a fit. As far as we could tell, her mother was attempting to put her on the plane by herself (a required parental visit?). She was having none of it. After much cajoling and crying, she boarded the plane, holding the hand of another young passenger. Those waiting for that flight and for our flight all held a collective breath. She held up the process for at least a half hour. We were weary and eager to return home, so when we saw the girl break through the entry way yet again, demanding her mother, it stretched our patience. We had visions of our flight cancelled, requiring a night at the airport. The girl eventually returned home with her mother and our flight departed at 9:45 (we didn't arrive home until 1:20 a.m.). It was as if God primed the pump for my reception of this book.

In our pressurized world, waiting feels inconvenient and annoying. Normal sympathies waned as we saw our expectations thwarted by this poor child's plight. Waiting Isn't a Waste is very well-structured. Vroegop encourages the reader with the key message, "Don't waste your waiting!" He breaks the "how" of waiting down into 6 characteristics: honestly: waiting is hard; frequently: waiting is common; thoughtfully: waiting is biblical; patiently: waiting is slow; intentionally: waiting is commanded; and collectively: waiting is relational.

Thanks to reading this book, I feel encouraged to embrace the gaps as opportunities to put my hope in God's timing and rescue. It's hard to live with only enough manna for the day at hand. But, as Vroegop points out, "God designed waiting in the world and in redemption [Christ was 3 days in the tomb] so that he's central, not you or me." Our desire for control often leads to anger, anxiety, or apathy when faced with times of waiting. Vroegop recommends, "Intentionally rehearse what [is] true about God." He suggests making a map of God's faithfulness, actively practicing waiting, and shifting your focus from what you don't know about the future to what you do know about God.

As Vroegop observes, biblical waiting is "active and intentional," "purposeful and productive," and trusting and hopeful. How I need more patience when I wait! I loved the definition given for patience, the Greek word "makrothumia." It is "a state of emotional calm in the face of provocation or misfortune and without complaint or irritation." Perhaps I wasted my waiting on the day after Bryce's wedding, but I don't want to waste the possibly lengthy wait for our prodigal to return to God's desired path for his life. When our future seems uncertain, may I rest in the certainty of God's sovereign hand orchestrating and carrying us through every moment.

Reminders of Sweetness Amid the Sour

My beloved prodigal is approaching a special birthday - 2 decades of life. For him, this is an accomplishment as he has done much to challenge this landmark. Indeed, I wonder if he is a cat, with the requisite nine lives. He has "slipped the noose" repeatedly and this wears on my emotional reserves. My husband cannot bear to look at sweet photos from the past in the midst of our current crisis. However, I needed the reminder of his sweetness and a dozen or so years that were free from the scourge of drug use. God gifted Trevor into our lives almost 20 years ago, and despite much sorrow, grief, and discouragement, I will fix my eyes on the many blessings his life has provided us.

I'm not a photographer. I don't often capture images. Thus, I scoured my blog, grateful for this catalog of memories that I sometimes fail to bring forth. Trevor has always been bright, creative, funny, and thoughtful. I found numerous examples of personalized cards he made for me (often with poetry). Ever artistic (here's art from age 10), he created images paired with sentiments he knew would touch my heart. While the cards are lost in the pack-rat detritus of my life, I can look back on my blog and enjoy the sentiments, the art, and the boy behind these kind gestures.

In my earliest photos of Trevor (from 2008), he was almost constantly in super hero attire. Indeed, on one visit to the library, they pulled me aside and gave me a large stuffed Spiderman. They were purging it from the library possessions and wanted to pass it along to the young boy who always came in dressed as Spiderman.

In 2009, we added our first dog, Harley, to the mix and Trev was very fond of him:

Mid-2009, he cut his own hair (worried it might be too long like his 13-year-old brother's hair):

In November of 2009, I captured this sweet and hilarious video of Trevor reciting The Lord's Prayer. He had learned this in his Christian preschool class. During the recitation, he accidentally burped, then cracked up when I exclaimed that I didn't remember that as part of the prayer.

In 2010, Trev got ahold of a blow torch and singed his bangs off (like I said, his guardian angel works overtime!) - go here to read the whole story and my funny friend Laura's quip in reaction to the tale):

That same year, Trev set up shop selling us his artwork and, in the fall, began kindergarten:

Looking at the photo above, reminds me of another guardian angel moment (on this day his jeans caught in the bike chain and, unable to stop, he zoomed across our street - where cars often speed past at 40-50 mph - safely and miraculously landing on the grass across the street).

In 2011, he went for a brief visit with grandma and found his granddad's war helmet, rode the zipline at CBLI, and became interested in football:

In 2013, we continued to enjoy the zipline at camp:

In 2015, Trevor and I took a special spring break trip to visit with my parents in Florida. He caught a lizard and set him free (despite accidentally severing his tail):

In 2017, he proudly displayed a fish catch at CBLI:

This was also the age of his bottle-flipping stage and in spring of 2018, he created this hilarious basketball spoof video:

The last two photos are from the cusp of our problems with Trevor, when he broke his leg during the first football game of his 8th grade season:

(This is another photo that stirs intense gratitude. We praise God that He spared Trevor's life and the lives of others near the accident that totaled the truck recently.)

It is good to reminisce over the sweeter days amid ones that leave a sour taste in our mouths. We are grateful for the prayers of so many, lifting Trevor before the Lord. I anxiously await his return to the sweet person he was prior to this departure into drug use and rebellion. May God help us cling to Him when timing doesn't speed along Trevor's recovery and return. May the guardian angels, who have prevented numerous perils in the past, continue to protect him.

We love you, Trevor! Don't ever forget it! We long to see you healed of this addiction, but you are a gift, even amid the pain!

Mid-month Mention: Hope for my Hurting Heart

In the month of July, my heart was gutted. The love of a parent for a child is a bond like no other. If biological, you have not chosen that child; that child was chosen for you by God. The Lord gives an intensity of love upon birth that cannot be rivaled. Yet, that child, chosen by God for you, can also bring an intensity of pain, betrayal, and heartbreak.

I was searching up something entirely different, when I happened upon the scripture writing videos of The Homespun Wife (Sherry M. Hefner) on You Tube. I thought perhaps I might get back into scripture writing. I had used that practice several years ago, but had revamped my morning quiet time without incorporating the writing of scripture. You Tube highlights other videos along the side bar and I noticed one by The Homespun Wife called The Truth About My Son. This video resonated with me. It is also terrifying to me. Despite five years in this, we are at the beginning of our walk with an addict. I feel overwhelmed when I recognize that this journey will probably stretch on for years. Her son was turning 37 a year ago. Ours is on the cusp of his 20s. When I think about decades more of this trial, my heart wants to give up in defeat. But The Homespun Wife's message is one of encouragement:

"You are never abandoned."

 "God is your only hope."

In the scripture writing video, Sherry mentioned her husband's sermon series, challenging his listeners to analyze what things in the world keep them from their calling from God. I immediately thought of my son's addiction and how it has kept me from God's calling on my life to write. I mentally asserted, "I will not let my son's addiction keep me from God's calling on my life to write!" Another sermon asked listeners to list "Lord, I give this brokenness to you: (my son's addiction)." Another one encouraged listeners to write, "I want to please God through: (my prayer life)."

Next, I followed Sherry's You Tube page to discover a new book she has just published called We Have This Hope. Since she already has a huge following on her You Tube channel and Facebook, she will probably do well in getting her book out to the masses. I may purchase it. Mostly, I'm glad I stumbled upon her You Tube channel because her words ministered to my aching heart and reminded me that God has called me for a purpose and I cannot let the trials of this world stand in the way of that calling. I will continue to pray for my wayward son (and others on this painful journey). I have resumed daily scripture writing. You may wish to watch her video about a new scripture writing Facebook group and join that group (although I just learned yesterday that the group is temporarily not taking new members due to the huge response, but I imagine it will open again at some point). If you follow any of these links to The Homespun Wife, I pray her words encourage your souls, too!

"I will be with you as I was with Moses;

I will not fail you or abandon you.

Be strong and courageous! (NLT)

Book Review: Like a River

Granger Smith addresses his book, Like a River, to anyone who has experienced loss. That's a wide audience. Personally, this book resonated a bit too much for me. From the start, I could not stop reading. Although much of his story differs from mine, so many things feel the same. Not to mention the date of their trauma in 2019 matches the date of my traumatic event in 2023. I could relate to his struggles with intrusive thoughts and nightmares. I, too, have sought therapy using rapid eye movement. Parts of this book were excruciating to read. His story resonated more than I wanted.

Granger Smith was outside with his three young children (London, age 7, Lincoln, age 5, and River, age 3) when he noticed silence. Any parent of boys knows to suspect that sinister silence. When he identified the dread, he discovered his 3-year-old son lying face down in the water of their gated and locked pool. Despite efforts to revive the boy, River died that horrible day in 2019. Many responded with judgement and condemnation. Why is it so hard for people to tread cautiously when someone is sitting in fresh grief?

Granger's book emphasizes his drive for self-improvement and his efforts to carry the load with his own strength. No surprise! Those efforts failed miserably. My timing in reading this book coincided with sentences in my BSF Bible study that support Granger's message: "We can do nothing to revive ourselves and restore our relationship with Him. No noble act, payment, right thinking, or self-help program will do what only God can do." (Ephesians 2:8-9) When Granger surrendered himself to the river God had placed him on, and placed his total trust in Jesus, he gained the resources needed to thrive in life once again. This heartfelt testimony has a heavy emphasis on the gospel message of salvation. I identified with his struggles and his solution. Perhaps you might as well.

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On this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the Lord's protection and preservation of my children. It is a gift I do not take for granted and one that blesses me daily. I'm grateful that in our times of lament, the Lord hears our anguish but never feels offended when we struggle with His plan for our lives. He carries us, shelters us, and guides us. He redeems our broken pieces! He makes beauty from ashes! Praise God!

Book Review: To Be Told

Although I'm not new to counseling, my last stint of life-coaching happened over a decade ago. At one point, I attended individual, marital, and group sessions. I don't miss those days. It was a lot of work. If only all that work remedied the problems. Alas, it didn't. Some of it is rearing its ugly head again.

Still, I'm hopeful. I appreciate my new counselor's willingness to offer book and podcast suggestions. My kind of person! Not to mention, he's trained in EMDR, a new method of dealing with past traumas that trigger PTSD symptoms. So, I jumped onboard for his first suggestion, To Be Told: God Invites You to Coauthor Your Future by Dan B. Allender, PhD.

I appreciated the author's emphasis that God weaves themes into the stories he's written with our lives. Every tragedy and trial will speak something about God through our experience. Like what Alan Noble mentioned in On Getting Out of Bed, our lives are a witness to others. Each witness is important. I like to think of it as a kaleidoscope. We each bear out God's light in a different hue and the composite of all our stories blended together creates a beautiful and brilliant image. Allender encourages readers to write out their life story and share with a community. Even though I consider myself a writer, I balked. I get it though. As I mentioned in my review of The Sand Bucket List, we relate to one another through our individual stories. It is in community that our stories blend and ricochet off one another. Someone else's story can trigger something in one's own story.

I loved the idea of the story feast. How neat to gather with others in a feast celebrating God's goodness! Sharing food. Sharing remembrances. Illustrating how God has been present in our lives.

It blessed me to see he incorporated, in later chapters, sections on prayer and fasting. As if he was saying, "Writing your story is good. Sharing it with others is great. But sharing it with God and allowing Him to fill emptiness is of utmost importance." He writes of the wrestling match of healing prayer. This "takes our stories of heartache and inserts Jesus into the memory to whiten the stain and take away the anguish." Bold stuff! Instead of whitewashing our painful memories, we must wrestle with God's allowance of this into our lives. We must seek what it is He wishes to make of those wounded places.

Allender also talks about being available to others. "Not to be cluttered with oneself is to embrace enough of our story to say to God and to others, 'He is good. And he has written me well' And perhaps even more, being uncluttered calls me to wrestle with those stories that confuse me, the stories I continue to hold at arm's length." Oh, to be uncluttered! To use my story to encourage others toward God's redemption.

Midmonth Mention - 5 Songs for a Weary Soul

I'm in a dark place these days. God's presence continues, but it feels more like a nightlight than a shining sun. What stupidity! I'm opening old wounds and traumas through EMDR therapy. Not the right moment to free myself from a decades-long regimen of chronic depression medication. Sadly, at my follow-up psychiatrist appointment, it was obviously imperative I resume those meds. While I'm disgruntled, I am grateful for the medicine that seems to put me on a more even keel. No idea how long it will take for the two-month hiatus to be rectified by the reinstitution.

In addition to lancing wounds, I've diminished two things that were structural supports in my life: writing and reading. Although I haven't abandoned either, the diminished activity leaves a gaping hole. I continue to do personal writing in my daily pages and send notes to people for my ongoing Facebook prayer project. I listen to an audio book when driving in my car. While I miss those foundational activities, I cannot seem to resume them.

As if personal problems and extended sleep issues wasn't enough to bear, we woke several days this week to find no water. We had visions of a week-long stint in a hotel, waiting for the workers to fix this. I'm so grateful to God. At first, we were told they needed to remove the failed pump for our well, but if they couldn't get it out, they might need to dig a whole new well (tens of thousands of dollars). Praise God, they were able to replace the old one.  It was 61-years old! The guy said most pumps nowadays last ten years. They sure don't make things like they used to! Still, it was a day or two of upheaval and taxing on the emotions.

Last week's counseling appointment homework? Listen to some music to fill the gaping hole left by the reduction in writing and reading. My counselor also recommended two books: Hurt People Hurt People, and Safe People. I only managed one, and that, abridged. Instead, I am compiling a list of soothing songs to address the weariness in my soul. I mention them here, in case you are needing comfort as well.

"Abide With Me," sung by my niece, Kirsten, with The Singing Company:

This song cuts across all the worries and clamor attacking my heart these days. It reminds me of His presence. "When the darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide! Though my fears are strong, Your voice surrounds me."

Early in our marriage, John and I were both big fans of Steve Green's music. Often when I'm facing trials associated with the consequences of my son's choices, I turn to this calming song:

"Rest," by Steve Green, from his Christmas Joy to the World album (love the Salvation Army band with him on the cover)

"Refuse to fear! Enjoy His love! The Lord is near!" Two great commands based on one great reminder! "There is no need for needless worry. With such a Savior, you have no cause to ever doubt."

Another oldie, but goodie. Keith Green's lyrics in this song comfort my heart:

"Make My Life a Prayer to You," by Keith Green, from his No Compromise album

"Save us from ourselves and our despair. It comforts me to know You're really there." "It's so hard to see when my eyes are on me." Oh, how my obstacles obscure my vision!

Chris Rice provides another voice that soothes my soul when facing deep despair:

"My Prayer," by Chris Rice on his Smell the Color Nine album

"Words fail. Tears come. I need someone to take the thoughts I almost think and carry them to God for me." "Long sigh. I'm still numb. Is there anyone who can find the things I'm barely feeling and give them wings beyond my ceiling?" "Sorry, I forgot. You're right here. I cup my hands around Your ear. I feel You smile; You feel my breath. You listen while I whisper nonsense." And, as always, the end is submission to His will.

Finally, another affirmation of submission to His will, this song by Mercy Me:

"Even If," by Mercy Me, from their Lifer album

"Right now I'm losing bad." "It's easy to sing when there's nothing to bring me down. What will I say when I'm held to the flame like I am right now." "God when You choose to leave mountains unmoveable, give me the strength to be able to sing, 'It is well with my soul.'" I so want that resolution! My fingers falter, but still I cling.

I have been thinking again of the passage in 2 Kings 6. The prophet Elisha is aware of the vast opponent approaching. Yet, instead of quaking in his boots, he prays for God to open the eyes of his servant Gehazi. I am praying, too. "Open my eyes to see the armies of angels fighting on Your behalf to bring about Your will, despite how harrowing the odds feel. Instead of fixating on the obstacles, the fears, the failures, I must allow my spiritual eyes to see His hand, even where it doesn't seem present or effective. There are things going on in the spiritual realm that my human eyes and mind cannot comprehend."

So, I pray, "Lord, abide with me. Help me rest, assured of Your power to intervene. May my feeble life be a prayer to You. In my prayer, may I fill the silence with Your smile, Your breath, Your ear. And, even if things don't turn around, if life continues to compound trials, keep my soul content in You."

Book Review: Praying

I seldom listen to audio books twice, but had to for J. I. Packer's Praying: Finding Our Way Through Duty to Delight. It was so good; I wanted to take notes. The first time around, I did most of my listening during a lengthy car trip. The second time around, I sat next to the CD player with my hand poised to take notes on my phone. During prayer, so often our minds lose focus or set prayers feel hollow, but good praying is both a duty and a delight. One of my favorite quotes was, "Never think that time is wasted which is given to God." So true!

Packer says this is "not a how to, but a who to or to whom" of prayer. He identifies God's attributes and proves that God is trustworthy and praiseworthy. Thus, authentic prayer, Packer says, follows scripture, flows from responsive, grateful obedience, and from purity of heart. In the next section, the author turns to Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress (this is why I wanted to re-listen). He outlines the stages of Pilgrim's journey: cross, conflict, companionship, cruelty of the world to Christians, compromise, carelessness, crossing the Jordan.

I love that he recites a piece about friendship I have heard before (I do not know whom to attribute it to): "A friend is a push when you have stopped, a word when you are lonely, a guide when you are searching, a smile when you are sad, a song when you are glad. A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." Thus, he who has a friend is blessed beyond measure.

Finally, I loved the section discussing misunderstandings about prayer. Some view prayer as a superstitious illusion or a stated wish or notion. They reason that because God already knows your need and has a will, it is pointless to pray. Not so! In every child-parent relationship, the child approaches the parent to express their perceived need. When the Father meets that need, the child grows confident in the Father's love. 

Packer addresses another misunderstanding I have encountered. One Christian urged another to declare healing to God. She insisted that declaring healing would bring the desired healing. She also shared about a friend whose house was on fire and when the friend asserted "Not today!" the fire spontaneously stopped. I believe this is an error in understanding. As Packer observes, "they think because they pray earnestly that whatever they ask will happen and the only obstacle would be if they weren't praying earnestly enough." But we do not twist God's arm. We should not say, "MY will be done." When Jesus said "ask what you will," He added the control, "according to His will." As Packer emphasizes, "God, not the person praying, is in charge," and we "should focus not on ourselves, but on God." We can trust Him because He answers in the best way and at the best time. Often, we do not know what or when is best. We pray to submit those needs to His will.

2023 FB Prayer Project Progress

Today, May 4th, 2023, is the observed National Day of Prayer. What better time to provide an update on my ongoing 2023 Facebook Prayer Project inspired by Amy Weinland Daughters' book, Dear Dana. (Gold medal winner in the Nautilus Book Awards for memoir) I'm so grateful for stumbling upon Amy's book and for the structure her project lends to mine. I'm now 1/3 through the year and my goal of praying for my Facebook friends. By the end of this week, I will have prayed for 144 individuals.

I have petitioned God's throne for surgeries (breast cancer removal, ACL, and hip replacement), childbirth, and court cases. I have prayed for healing from childhood abuse, PTSD, anxiety, and depression. It has been my privilege to intervene for job concerns and pet losses, for prodigals and missionaries, for course completion and foster parenting. Many praises are trickling in: a child's new job in London, a safe delivery of a first grandchild, and peace in the midst of a horrible-no-good-week.

Settling into a structure has certainly helped to attain my goal of reading less and praying more. Every Wednesday, I draw 8 slips from my bag of Facebook friends' names and alert them to my upcoming week of prayer for them. Next, I take what I know (some respond, but for many, I must scour their wall to find information to lead me) and select a scripture verse to pray for each individual for the rest of that week. Every Saturday, I send a message (a month out) reminding them that they were prayed for and alerting them to the verse I selected to accompany my prayers. This is also when I offer to place needs on an ongoing prayer list and request any information they can give about answered prayer.

I have a set routine. I pray for each individual using a 3x5 card with information including family names of spouses, children, and grandchildren, in addition to any specific prayer requests shared. For some (if hard to glean information) it is hard to fill the time, but I shoot for 3 to 5 minutes per person, 3 times each day (before my morning devotions, some time after noon, and prior to bedtime). Since many do not give any specifics, I have developed two lists of guided prayer topics. When I was using one list of ten topics, my prayers felt too rote and repetitive. Although I originally intended to fast while praying, once a week, I only managed to maintain that for a brief time. Sob!

It is surprising how often my prayers for others' needs reminds me of my own need for the same request. I am equally astonished by the depth some are willing to share and the silence of some I thought would reply. How comforting to know that even when I don't know the details I should provide in my prayers, God is aware of the needs of each individual. And for everyone, I pray that God would bring them into relationship with Him and deepen whatever trust and belief they may already hold. It has been a privilege. The time I've spent has been far more valuable than the time I would've devoted to reading. May you lift prayers to the Father today and may He answer in His perfect wisdom and impeccable timing. Praise God, He is never too soon and never too late.

Book Review: My Jesus

I struggle with change. My experience with this book highlights an example. I happily added my name to the hold list when my library shared about this recent acquisition. Okay, so I love my library's hold options. I love being able to drive up and, long past the initial pandemic necessity, have someone walk my held books out to my car. Thank you! Thank you! 

What I do not love is my library's new card catalog platform. Why mess with a good thing, I ask? I used to be able to see early on if a book had no option for renewal (meaning the hold list is long and the next person is already waiting for their turn). Now, patrons are told how many times they have renewed a book, rather than how many renewals are still available. Thus, you remain in the dark until a few days prior to the due date, when the library sends a notification explaining that a further renewal is not available. I desperately need more than a few day's notice.

So, there I was, facing down the notification email. I had three days to return this book, My Jesus: From Heartache to Hope by Anne Wilson. Thank goodness it is a short, easy read (194 pages). I suppose the key is simple. Check out fewer books and get around to them the moment you bring them home - ha!😉

My Jesus shares the personal testimony of a new Christian recording artist, Anne Wilson. The tragic loss of Anne's older brother, in a car accident, shifted Anne's career trajectory. Her dreams of becoming an astronaut (something my youngest has expressed a vague interest in) faded when a talent scout found a video of Anne singing her funeral contribution, "What a Wonderful Name." Sadly, I was out of the loop on this. (When I still had my van with its broken CD player, I usually listened to Christian radio. Now that I'm in a car with a functioning CD player, I tend to use that time to listen to audio books.) Apparently, Anne's first song, "My Jesus," went to the top of the charts immediately.

If you are seeking a quick and encouraging Christian testimony, this book fits the bill. While the writing is not noteworthy, the story is sincere and inspirational. Of course, as soon as I closed the book (just in time to return it to the library, shwew), I logged on to YouTube and listened to "My Jesus," "What a Wonderful Name," and one other song called "No Place Like Home." They were a great accompaniment to this personal story.

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Now, I wouldn't be averse to a change like this: A library in Colorado has a self-checkout station where you can select the language for your receipt. One option is "Pirate" language. This is how the receipt prints out:

(Photo from Carole O'Brien on Facebook)