Music

At Jason's funeral the minister told us to find comfort in music. I try to do that--I try to listen to "positive, encouraging" music of all genres. I don't have to just listen to Christian music to get positive messages, so I listen to all kinds of music. My ipod is very eclectic--blues, jazz, country, rock, folk, Christian. I don't like rap or heavy metal, so I leave that to others.
I have been amazed at the number of times in the last two years that I have found comfort in the music at church, on the radio, on a cd, on my ipod. Today one of the songs we sang at church was new to me. Get this, the refrain said, "The love of God is stronger than the power of death."
I need to talk to the people who choose the selections at our church and let them know that I appreciate that they listen to the Holy Spirit when selecting music. So many times in the last two years, they have chosen a song that has ministered to my broken heart. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I'm determined to make my life worthwhile. I'm tempted to hole up and pout, but I refuse to do that. I will make whatever time I have left on this earth good. I want to honor Jason that way. I think sometimes I have to do all the good he didn't get to do.
This week marks the two year anniversary of his death. My mind has been going wild with memories of the last time I saw him, the last time I talked to him, the moment I was told that he was dead, the days between his death and his funeral, his funeral. The days, weeks, month following his death. I'm going to be honest. God did something in my heart at first. In the early days after Jason's death, I really couldn't feel anything. The pain would have been so great that my heart might have stopped except that God protected me. By the time the first two weeks had passed, my heart caught up with my mind; I still have moments when I just can't believe that he is gone.

Dreaded weekend

I've made it pretty well through September. I've had my moments, but for the most part, this month has been just like all other months. Some days are harder than others.
Football season makes me sad. There's so much to remember about Jason and Cowboy football. He loved his Cowboys. If he wasn't able to attend the game, he would call or text to keep up with the score. I was so accustomed to having to watch or listen with my phone in hand that it seems strange to just watch.
I've been kind of busy the last two days. I had Friday off just as I did two years ago, but I wasn't as productive yesterday as I was that year. I scrubbed the porch and front of the house that year and worked in my flower beds. I kept thinking that I would do that yesterday, but I just didn't have it in me.
I had to go to a funeral yesterday afternoon. My childhood friend Marla buried her dad, so my mind has been wandering back to the past. Then Tony and I ate at Boomerang last night. He loves to go there on Friday nights because they have fried catfish. I think he would go every Friday if I didn't put my foot down and refuse. Nothing against Boomerang, it's just that he doesn't need that much fried food.
He went out to Bruce's after dinner, and I went to the school to catch up on some work. I can get so much done when I am down there alone. I'm way too social to get much work done on parent/teacher conference nights. I love the people I work with, but our time together is limited to a few minutes before school and thirty minutes at lunch. We had a ball Thursday night when all the parents were gone, and we were left in the lounge to finish out the night.
It's kind of a joke that we go into our rooms and spend all our time with students that we don't really see one another from Aug. to Christmas, but our faculty is so different from most school staffs. We've truly been through so much together that we have bonds that transcend friendship and go straight to family.
Births, deaths, illnesses, accidents, graduations, kids moving out, kids moving back home, all of life's drama has been shared with these people. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that many of them are praying for me this weekend and will continue next week.
Today has been just what Saturday always is for us. We went to Hardesty's, Firelake, home. I went to Shawnee and ran a couple of errands, came home, cleaned house, did laundry, reviewed Sunday School lesson, now I'm listening to Cowboy football. It's a blowout,so I think I'll turn it off and watch a movie. I've got papers to grade that I should do tonight because Carson is coming home tomorrow to spend the day with us. I know I won't get anything done until tomorrow night, so I'll just get it done tonight so that I will be able to enjoy my day with the kids.

Grace

My Sunday school class has been studying Peter. I think there is a reason that they chose to study him. It may have been to teach me. He is a character that I can all relate to. He stuck his foot in his mouth just like I do. He was impetuous, impulsive, (notice that both of those words start with imp). He was the one who denied Christ. He actually said the words, "I don't know him." We talked in class about how we deny Christ today. I've never been in a situation where my life was in danger, so I can't say what I would do if I were threatened. I hope I would remain faithful, but I have denied Christ by my actions. I've let people look at me in my silly seasons and think, isn't she supposed to be a Christian. That's denying Christ. I think one important thing for us to think about is what we do after we have done something that denies Christ. Many of us have gone into hiding or avoided ministry because we don't feel like we should represent Him. Someone else who has been wiser has to do that job.
After the resurrection Peter preached the sermon recorded in Acts that ended with 3000 people becoming believers. What if Peter had gone in hiding after he heard that rooster? What if he had done the "human" thing and felt unworthy to witness? What would have happened to the cause if he had kept quiet on the day of Pentecost? I've also had to rethink my feelings about "fallen" people being in the ministry. If God wants someone to continue to preach, who am I to say they aren't fit? I wonder how old I will be when I get this all figured out?