I am struggling, but not with what one would think in the context of the loss of my son. My struggle is more about what my obligation should be as the survivor of this event.

First, my obligation is NOT:

• To try to get constant accolades as the survivor of an American hero that laid his life down for his country. It is my son that should get the recognition, not me. Michael and I raised Rhys, but we raised him to be responsible and independent. We raised him to make his own choices after weighing the possible consequences. In short, we raised him to be a man. As a man, Rhys made the sacrifice. Although I believe Rhys deserves recognition for his service and sacrifice, he would say, “I’m just doing my job. Why all the brouhaha?” (more…)

With all that is going on in our culture, our country, and the world, it is so easy to become discouraged and wonder how anything one individual can do will make any difference at all.  A very dear friend sent me a reminder today of a sentiment so basic that it actually gave me pause and a new perspective for the day.    Here it is…

This reminds me of the old story of the boy and his dad walking along the beach after a big hurricane. The beach was covered with starfish. The young boy periodically would bend down, pick up a starfish and toss it into the ocean. As he continued to do this his dad said, “The beach is covered with starfish; tossing a few into the ocean will not make a difference.” The boy bent down, picked up another star fish, tossed it into the ocean and said, “It made a difference to that one!”

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Never should we so abandon ourselves to God as when He seems to have abandoned us. Let us enjoy light and consolation when it is His pleasure to give it to us, but let us not attach ourselves to His gifts, but to Himself; and when He plunges us into the night of pure faith, let us still press on through the agonizing darkness.
December 22nd, Streams in the Desert.

I’m spinning. It’s the time of the year I am sure. My thoughts and feelings are jumbled up in my head; happiness and sadness, anticipation and disappointment, crowds and loneliness. This is the time of family traditions. It is also the time that we brood on traditions gone awry. We think about how our Christmas seasons, in fact all of our holidays, have changed since our heroes left us. We see light-hearted moods, joy and happiness, but we feel a sliver of our own happiness is gone and cannot be retrieved. For some suffering a recent loss, the holiday season becomes positively dismal. What is there to celebrate, after all? (more…)