Yes...Long Overdue

I could never have guessed when I did my August post that it would be December before I would write again. Such are the realities of working full time, especially for a quinquagenerian! (your new word for the day ;-)

Last spring when I knew it would soon be time to look for full time work, I began praying, "Lord, please give me something bigger than myself, something worth waking up for. As the summer progressed, I suspected that would be a downtown job in an office where people needed Jesus.But on Saturday, August 2nd, I opened an email inviting me to fill a role in SIM International on a newly created task force to facilitate new initiatives. My plan had been to begin full time job search on Monday, August 4th - God's timing clearly got my attention as no one in SIM knew that had been my plan. Over the next two weeks, I prayed and sought godly counsel and sensed God's confirmation. I felt a little bit like Peter who headed back to his fishing boat after Jesus' resurrection, but Jesus said, "Nope, I've got another job for you."

I flew to Charlotte for orientation and to meet the rest of the task force. The welcome was so very warm, it felt like coming home. I was excited at the new challenges ahead of me and humbled  by the grace that handed me such meaningful kingdom work. Fresh grief hit as well as I realized that I was truly launching without Steve. But I knew he was smiling, ("I told you so.") as he always thought I should go back to SIM.

God once again proves himself Faithful, 

                            a Rewarder of those who seek him,

                                               the Lifter of all who are bowed down.

Of Toilets, Tasks and Treasures

"Oooh no, I forgot about this!" As I was cleaning the upstairs bathroom a few days before the family started arriving last month, I remembered with chagrin that the toilet had been leaking. I had intended to work on it right after my last guest left. :-/ I took it apart, clicked into a "How to" youtube video, took careful notes and headed to Home Depot.

Returning with the parts, I prayed, "Lord, I need your help on this one!" I took a deep breath and started in. Everything seemed to go into place, but of course, the real test is turning on the water. I bit my lip and frantically scanned the connections as the water rushed through the pipes. "Whew! Thank you, Lord."

And then there was the big task - getting Steve's books listed and packed for the Evangelical Theological College in Ethiopia. Eighteen boxes are ready for shipping. I'm just waiting for word sometime this year of a container going to Ethiopia. And lest you think I'm drowning my sorrows in wine, whiskey and vodka...I was instructed that these boxes were the best size and sturdiness for my purposes!

The treasure came with an all-family gathering here in Dallas at the end of July. Steve's mom and my parents joined us as well to meet the two new great grand-babies. I soaked in the delightful chaos of a full house for one week.

God is with me. Whether it's a plumbing problem or the longing for family, he's meeting every need in his timing.

Oh, and speaking of meeting every need...God has orchestrated my future in a way that has me in awe of his goodness. But that will have to wait for the next post. Thanks for your prayers.

The Last Tough One

I knew I had one more place I needed to process, but I kept putting it off. I just didn't feel ready.

Throughout the year I have very intentionally traveled to places and spent time with people in order to eliminate potential "grief triggers" or awkward moments with people in future days. I didn't want there to be a place or a person that I avoided. One place remained, and it was an easy walk away - the oncology center where Steve was treated.

One morning a week and a half ago, I knew it was time. I asked the Lord to make happen whatever needed to happen to help me keep moving forward. I couldn't have guessed what he had in store.

I spent time in the chapel on the first floor and then went up to the chemo floor. Lastly, the elevator doors opened to the floor where Steve had his weekly blood draw and appointment with his oncologist. I did a slow walk through two waiting rooms that were all too familiar. I knew this wasn't the time or place to dwell on the memories, so I turned to leave. As I did, I looked up to see Steve's oncologist standing in front of me - we both registered surprise! He graciously invited me into a quiet room where we spent 10-15 minutes in meaningful conversation about Steve and events since his passing. I left with tears flowing, but feeling both free of heart and awed that God would orchestrate this very unexpected encounter.

God is walking this journey with me, and his unanticipated blessings continue to bring healing.

Grandma is smiling!

Stephen Parker Strauss was born on Tuesday, June 17, 2014 (the day before his due date) at 6:39 p.m. Mark and Amy are happily adjusting to a very new normal. We thank God for a safe birth and healthy baby.

                                                                             5 days old

June 11 Reflections

Early Wednesday morning, I grabbed my Bible and hymnbook and headed to the cemetery about a half hour away. I hadn't been there since the burial service and wasn't sure how I would react. I'm sure your prayers made a difference.

It was a beautiful morning and a recent rain had greened up the grounds nicely. I sat on a mat beside the marker and prayed through hymns and read I Corinthians 15 for little over an hour. It was a comforting time with the Lord, a quiet peace held my heart. Considering that I'd polished off a full roll of TP in the preceding three days, it was quite amazing that I only needed one Kleenex in that hour!

One hymn that struck new meaning for me was one of Steve's favorites: And Can it Be? (And he always sang it with gusto.) The verses depict God's work of salvation, but as I read verses 3 & 4 I pictured Steve leaving his cancer-wracked body of death and entering the throne room of God, radiantly dressed in Jesus righteousness!

Long my imprisoned spirit lay, fast bound in sin and nature's night.
Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray; I woke - the dungeon flamed with light!
My chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

No condemnation now I dread; Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head, and clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach the eternal throne, and claim the crown, thru Christ my own.

Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God shouldst die for me!

Another thought that struck me during that hour...How then will I live? It's sobering to see your name written on a grave stone. I don't know what year will be etched in that stone below my name, but I long to finish well. May God grace us all with an urgency to throw off everything that hinders and...entangles us and...run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

W.I.D.O.W.S.

Early one morning I was lying in bed asking the Lord to help me get over this word. I was still choking on it, my whole body tensing whenever I anticipated the word coming out of someone's mouth. Even now, when I check the circle for Marital Status on a form, there is still the thought, "This can 't be real."  It wasn't in the plan to be in this category of women.

But here I am - a widow.

"Lord, help me re-frame this word." I mused on it throughout the morning and settled on this: Widows are women  "Walking In Dependence On a Wonderful Savior." How quickly I relax now and even smile as my mind shifts to this acronym. The dark sadness of the word is replaced with comfort and security.

And that comfort lifted my heart as I spent a week in Chicago at the end of May, the last of my grief-processing trips. I walked down memory lane on the campus of Trinity International University (where Steve did his doctoral studies) and our church nearby. I relished blessed re-connections with many friends and extended family. My Wonderful Savior fed and restored my soul in different ways with each visit.

And now I'm back in Dallas - no more trips planned. But there is a big upcoming event - Amy will be delivering our first grandson sometime in the next two weeks or so. Amy is definitely hoping it will be sooner than later!

Mark & Amy

Thank you for your prayers for them, Cara and Mache, David and Ryan and me as we anticipate this Wednesday, June 11th - Steve's arrival day in heaven. 

Feeling Stronger...

I'm not yet Rocky surging up the monument steps with pounding rhythms spurring me on, but when I look at where I was six months ago,  I can see God's restoration work.

Too tired for emotions after 19 1/2 hours of door-to-door travel from Bolivia on April 30th, I was just glad to be home. I felt disoriented for the first few days. I had packed away much of my stuff to make room for the family that lived in my home while I was gone. I still haven't found some things!

Three days after return: I head to the graduation celebration for the wives of D.T.S. students, my first time back on campus. I reach for the door handle of the building where the event is being held and WHAM! - I see Steve opening this door and climbing the steps to his third floor office. I see students engaging him. I hear his voice echo in the open stairwell...I want so badly to bolt! And yet, I want to be here too. This is a special day for women I know. I head for the rest room and try to get composure. Loving faculty wives offer hugs and words of encouragement and by the time the wives show up, I'm fragile, but can interact and enjoy this time of honoring them and the Lord's faithfulness to them through these stressful years.  

But what was I going to do about next Saturday? I called on family and close friends to pray. Mark was graduating from D.T.S. on Saturday, and we were both aware it could be a very emotional time. Tears spilled for both of us as the ceremony began, but we quickly embraced the joyful focus on God's faithfulness to bring 380 men and women to complete their studies. I was a proud mama (!), and I knew Steve was smiling as a part of that cloud of witnesses as well.

Closing Out My Days Here

In my cozy Alpaca-wool sweater, my legs snuggled under a down comforter and listening to the tinsel-clink of tiny hail on my bedroom window, I grin thinking that a week from today I'll be hoping it's cool enough to open my windows at night. I had my last Spanish lesson today, enjoyed a traditional Bolivian BBQ on Saturday with the family and look forward to seeing a professional dance troupe perform Bolivian traditional dances this weekend (my Spanish teacher is one of the dancers!).

This time in Bolivia has been a reminder that life is good, even with its pain. It hasn't provided a respite from grief, as I'm finding that often the sweetest joys unearth profound grief. But the stimulation of a new challenge, the ever-present antics of a two-year old, the soft warmth of a newborn nestled in my arms have been the green pastures and still waters that my Shepherd is using to restore my soul.

Thank you for your continued prayers and encouraging notes. God's faithfulness expressed through so many of you is a great comfort.

Have to share a few of my favorite photos from this week. :-)

Zoe

Ariana

Cara, Mache, Zoe and Ariana

Busy Days for Grandma!

Yes, I've been slow on this update...there's been just a few other things to do around here. :-)  Zoe Strauss Contreras arrived at 5:30 a.m. on Friday, March 28th, weighing in at a petite 6 lbs. Like her sister, Zoe never descended and engaged, so after 11 hours of labor (Cara's determination to have Zoe naturally), the doctor called for a C-section. We thank God for his protection as Cara said all the medical people around her exclaimed, "Oh, just in time!" as they lifted Zoe out. The pediatrician said labor had been a bit rough on her, but he expected her to be back to normal in 24 hours. And sure enough, after keeping a gentle flow of oxygen near her face, the next day she was nursing with vigor. Cara is sore, moving slowly, but recovering well.

                                                                          The first hours

Ariana's first look at her sister

Peaceful slumber at home

                                                              Much happiness all around

An Unexpected Connection

The day before the 3 1/2 day retreat I was feeling restless, anxious over trivial things, distracted...I decided to cancel class, fast and spend the better part of the day with the Lord. He graciously restored peace and a restful dependence on the Spirit. I prayed for the retreat, but I don't think I prayed much in regards to me and the retreat. Since the retreat would all be in Spanish, I didn't have much expectation in regards to its impact on me. But God....

At tea time the first morning, I sat with a group of women, mostly listening. I was impressed with an especially vibrant and attractive mother of two pre-teen girls. Eventually, she moved closer to me and patiently engaged me in conversation. A few hours later, I told Cara about Katia, and Cara told me her story.

Seven years ago, Katia and her husband, Tito, with their three and five year old girls joined the church family on this same weekend retreat. Tito was a pastoral intern at the church, a sharp young leader with energy and vision. While crossing the bridge to the camp, one of their pieces of luggage fell into the river. He was a strong swimmer, so he went down to the bank and swam around a bend to retrieve it. He never returned. His body was found six days later.

As Cara relayed the story, I suddenly realized that I had prayed for this young mother and her two little girls seven years ago when the news came to the SIM International office where I worked. We grieved the tragic loss of this young family and the church family as well. I would never have guessed that one day God would intersect my life with hers.

That night and early the next morning I wrestled, churning emotionally and begging God to bring sense and order to my racing thoughts. Again and again he brought scripture to mind that addressed the issues over which was I struggling. I knew I needed to talk to Katia, but it was a few days before I was ready.

Cara joined us to help translate, but only a few times was it necessary. Katia teaches in French, and she does quite well in English too! It was a precious heart to heart time. All three of us were a red-eyed, balling mess before we concluded, but it was a Spirit-directed, edifying time. Katia is the close-up photo of 2 Corinthians 1. The comfort and strength that God has given her is now overflowing  to comfort me in my time of grief. God had this in the works seven years ago.

Katia is leading a women's group called "Women Alone" for women who are single (for whatever reason). Cara tells me that in this city of one million people, she doesn't know of any church that has a group like it. Katia's daughters are maturing in the Lord, and Katia assured me that she is not just surviving, but thoroughly thriving, even as she still grieves Tito's absence.

I had a tiny part in lifting up this young widow seven years ago, and now God brings us together and uses her to encourage and minister to me in my grief as a widow. God's timing and his design of the Body of Christ once again amazes me.

Brain-dead by noon...but thriving!

I've had a few confusing times with taxis and some mis-communication at the house (ate some of the meat and rice in the frig - found out it was the dog's food). I've had a few grief-meltdowns, and I am still struggling to keep my eyes open after 8:30 p.m., but in answer to your prayers, I'm thriving.

Each morning, I walk out to the street to catch a taxi into center-city and meet with my tutor at the language institute for an intense 1 1/2 - 2 hours. Some days I stay for a few more hours and memorize a short script in Spanish. The large and beautiful plaza a block away is full of students and others of all ages, most of whom are happy to humor this gringa as she stumbles through her short monologue. If I don't have time for the plaza, I hit the streets near home - the goal is to talk to twenty people. By the time I slump into a return taxi, I can hardly think in English, let alone Spanish...absolutely brain-numb! But dinner at 1:00 with Mache, Cara and Ariana, a short siesta and some quiet time with the Lord restores me for another 2-3 hours of study. I try to push through emails at night, but sometimes it's a lost cause.

So how do I know I'm thriving? Because when I wake up the next morning, I'm excited about doing it again. The Charades and Pictionary mode of communication is giving way to actual conversations with my host, Lila. I'm quite tickled with the progress.

So thank you for your prayers. God is answering. Tomorrow morning I head out to a church retreat at a camp where I'll be dorm-rooming with 20 Spanish-speaking sisters. I figure if the immersion experience gets to be a little too much, I can skip some meetings because Ariana needs her grandma. :-)

Spring in Bolivia

After several weather-delays and an all night flight, I arrived in La Paz, Bolivia Thursday morning. At 12,000 feet I spent a low-key day enjoying family, walking very slowly up stairs and occasionally sucking in air from an oxygen tank. The next day Cara and I hopped a taxi to the center of town, and I registered for 50 hours of Spanish lessons with a tutor. My plan is to couple them with my Rosetta Stone lessons each weekday, so tomorrow is grandma's first day of school.

Of course, each day's highlight since arrival has been enjoying the gleeful antics of two-year-old Ariana. She's prepared many a cup of tea for me inside her pink castle. Right now I'm living with Ariana's other grandmother, Lila, and aunt, Carola, who live a minute's walk away. When "Zoe" arrives around March 30th, I'll move in with Mache and Cara.

God wonderfully provided a young missionary family, also expecting a baby soon, to live in my house while I'm away. In the busy weeks of preparing the house and myself for this trip, I sensed a curious underlying anxiety. It took me a few days to realize that I was apprehensive about leaving my space of grief, my familiar place of mourning. But I needn't have worried, I certainly didn't leave my grief at home! Cara and I have already had some tearful heart-to-hearts, and the Lord has tenderly met me in my hours of altitude insomnia with clear reminders from his word.

Please pray that I'll thrive as I build new relationships, refresh my love of different cultures and stretch this ol' brain in language learning.

The Holidays - Part 2

A Gentle First Christmas

Christmas in Charleston, SC was the right choice. Mark and Amy (normally here in Dallas) were in Italy visiting Amy's sister, so I joined David and Ryan to celebrate with Ryan's family. I was warmly welcomed into the Graudin family gatherings and Christmas traditions.

As we waited for the Christmas Eve service to begin at St. Philip's Church (founded in 1680 and the mother church to Anglicanism in the Carolinas), David pulled up a Facebook message from one of our friends in Ethiopia who posted a photo of their Christmas Eve service. I knew our churches in Charlotte and Dallas were also worshiping together that evening. What a blessing it was to know that I was a part of thousands around the world focusing on God's gift to us, our eternal hope, our light in the darkness!Was I aching? - absolutely. This beautiful church was where Steve and Priest Hank co-officiated David and Ryan's wedding. The memories were poignant. But as I spoke the liturgy and took communion, I found comfort in belonging to not only a world-wide Body of Christ, but also a communion of saints that stretches back for centuries. Past and present, all of them have known pain, but all have found God faithful to carry them through it. Christmas ensures "God with us."

And God was with me on Christmas day. A lovely brunch in Ryan's childhood home, gift-giving around the tree and a festive dinner with Ryan's extended family filled the day. Steve was never far from my thoughts and a few times tears spilled over, but I enjoyed the day. It helped to be away from Dallas and in a different family context, and I felt loved and included. It greatly helped that Steve and Tracy (Ryan's parents) were comfortable with my tears and felt free in sharing memories of my Steve. Steve and Tracy also know the dream-crushing impact of cancer.Tracy and I talked freely of our longing for heaven. And so again, I found comfort in being with those who knew God's faithfulness through pain.

God gently walked me through my first Christmas. He is my faithful Emmanuel. 

The Holidays - Part 1

God's Mercies When I'm a Mess

The second weekend in December was a busy one...
      lengthy Saturday choir rehearsal,
            wedding of seminary-grad friends,
                    wedding reception chock-full of catch-me-up visits,
                             early rise on Sunday for choir warm-up and trio practice,          
                                      Sunday morning Christmas program - uplifting worship!
                                              I felt so blessed, but...

I was spent. Each event had both filled me and drained me. I walked into my empty house and in minutes I was mess. While I ate, I grabbed a book on grief, hoping it would steer my thoughts aright. No help. I took a nap. No improvement. I took a long, hard walk, praying and crying as I circled the park.

 I wanted very much to get to our community Bible study group's Christmas event that night. It had been seven weeks since I'd shared fellowship with them. Steve taught this group for almost two years, and they have loved us so faithfully and tenderly. I didn't want to miss being with them. But I was decidedly not ready to engage in a frolicky-fun Christmas party.  I returned home from my walk, looked at my watch and plopped in the lazy boy. "Lord, you have fifteen minutes to pull me together and change my outlook, otherwise I stay home."

And God, in tender mercy, did it!

In those fifteen minutes, I picked up that grief book, read a short chapter, God gave me some insights and then to my amazement, he completely lifted the oppressive sorrow. I jumped up, made my appetizer and headed off to the party. The carol singing and fellowship and crazy elephant gift exchange (complete with shared memories of Steve and his competitiveness at previous exchanges!) kept my spirit smiling. I didn't frolic, but this loving group, who also misses Steve, drew me into the joy of the season.