Sunday, August 28, 2016

The Party



            Unexpected tears tried to dampen the excitement of my first book signing. As I prepared to leave, thoughts of Mother, Dad, and Alan filled my mind. They all enjoyed my writings and would often ask how I did it.  Each one encouraged me to continue.

            For years, I wrote magazine articles about travel or children and often composed devotionals. My dream was to one day compile several of my devotionals into a book.

            My focus changed when multiple illnesses and deaths hit my family. Grief replaced other topics as writing helped me cope with the seemingly endless trials. Over time with some healing and much encouragement, I felt the time had come to assemble some of my grief devotionals into a book.

            The book I envisioned had a happier theme, but God guided me to publish one to comfort and encourage others who grieved. He led me to share my experiences of grief and glory to give them hope too.

            Mixed feelings bombarded me as I drove to the bookstore. Excitement at sharing my book. Fear that I would spend three hours alone at a table of books. I prayed that I would be able to touch someone who needed comfort.

            When I walked into the store with a bag of books, the manager greeted me and directed me to a table covered in a white plastic cloth. The table, near the front of the store and cash register, was like an empty stage. I spread out my books to make the area more inviting. A pen and Sharpie waited beside a pile of my author business cards.  I was ready. Then he said, “There usually aren’t many books sold at book signings.” Perhaps he didn’t want to get my hopes up, but the statement didn’t exactly cheer an already nervous, new author.

            “You already had someone call to see if you were here,” he said. That statement was more uplifting.
           
            Four friends I volunteer with at the library told me they would come. A friend from Bible study and her husband planned to attend too so I knew I would have a few visitors.

            Before the official time, an older couple entered the store and strode up to me. Were they just passing by or stopping? They looked familiar. But at first, I wasn’t sure. As soon as they began talking, I remembered they had been on my Journeys of Paul trip after Alan died. They received my online writings and wanted to buy the book. Their surprise visit and kind words relieved much of my anxiety. While they were still in the store, a friend from church appeared to buy a book and check on her Bible.
            With wonderful smiles, my library friends entered the glass doors. As I signed their books, they motivated me and erased the remaining nervousness. They offered to bring me lunch, but after eating second helpings at the church volunteer breakfast before the signing, I wasn’t really hungry. I also didn’t think it would be appropriate to munch while greeting customers. One friend bought me a bottle of cold water. Even if no one else showed up, I felt happy with the supportive friends who had already come. 

            However, laughter, hugs, and reminiscing filled the front of the store for the remaining three hours. I constantly replenished my supply of books. Each time someone entered the door, I felt surprise and joy from their love and care for me. Some I had known for a year or two. Others had been with me in all kinds of trials over twenty-five years.

            Church friends met school friends. Fellow pilgrims from our trips to Israel reunited. Mission friends reconnected. Two pastor friends who officiated at Alan’s memorial service and his daughter, Stephanie’s service a couple of years before that, spent time talking. Both traveled with Alan on mission trips around the world. They told me stories I had never heard.

            A friend from Griefshare brought her friend who had recently experienced multiple losses. Special friends from two Bible studies joined the celebration and even took pictures. My son and daughter-in-law’s neighbor stopped and offered to promote my book at her job as a hospital case worker because she needs resources to help people.

            A long time friend, who is in the midst of her own numerous struggles, spent the afternoon with me. Another friend, who battled cancer but is now cancer free, found a quiet spot and read most of the book. Her kind words of encouragement helped me see the book did offer comfort.

            Three friends, who Alan and I met on a mission to Namibia, came with one’s adopted Namibian daughter. She smiled as we admired her new hair cut and lovely, blue top.

            My pastor’s wife, who just returned from her mother’s memorial service in Sierra Leone, talked about her peace in the situation. Our prayers had been answered. She prepared food for our wedding and our small wedding cakes. Her husband performed our wedding and also Alan’s memorial.

            A long time friend, who invited Alan and me to her home to meet various missionaries, stopped by. She and her sister have continued to include me at meals and Bible studies.

            The presence of numerous friends overwhelmed me with gratitude. I was prepared for a small turn out but not for the huge party. Each person brought a touch of healing to a fractured heart which continues to mend.

            What I thought would merely be a book signing, turned out to be much more. It was a celebration of the lives of Mother, Dad, and Alan. My book of grief and joy only captured a small part of God’s glory and provision during my long journey. They would have all been proud of the book I had written. However, none of us expected my book to be about their illnesses, deaths, and my grief. God’s nudges and pushes, often from those around me, led me to accomplish what I didn’t think I could do. During the party, I missed them terribly but felt their presence within the love I experienced from my friends. During the celebration at the bookstore, God continued to ambush me with glory.

            As I prepared to leave, the manager totaled the sales and filled out paperwork. He said, “In twenty-three years of doing this, I have never had anyone sell this many books. You certainly have a lot of friends.”

            “Yes, I do. I am blessed.”

            While writing about the party at the bookstore, tears clouded my eyes. Grief, that I thought was gone, reappeared but mixed with joy. The full extent of actually writing the book, sharing my feelings, and being covered with love swept over me.

            In addition to people who came to the bookstore, many more sent messages by email and on Facebook. They responded to pictures of the signing. Tears came again and again as I experienced the love and encouragement of family and friends. They have grieved with me as many also endured their own trials.


            When I hear stories of how my book has touched others, I know the painful task God planned for me was worth it.

Ambushed by Glory in My Grief

Friday, August 19, 2016

A True Olympian


            In the midst of young, eager faces, her seasoned face stood out. When I first saw her, I wondered who she was and why she looked so old.  Only after watching her perform did I learn her story.

            Oksana Chusovitina, who represented Uzbekistan in 2016, earned her first Olympic medal in 1992 for the USSR before the current winners were even born. Her gold medal that year began a series of Olympic medals but the second one didn’t come until her fifth Olympics in 2008 when she won a silver for Germany.

            Her family moved to Germany for a time so her son could receive treatment for leukemia. Thankfully, it worked.

            As I watched the routines of world class gymnasts, occasionally Oksana was shown. Her performances didn’t measure up to the younger girls. But I observed something in her demeanor. There was a determination in her face and perseverance in her actions.

            For each event, she did her best and seemed to ignore the higher scores of her challengers. Never did she run crying from the gym or hang her head.

            For the vault, she attempted the Vault of Death, which only seven women have ever tried. Five have completed it successfully and she was one. However, her landing in the 2016 Games sent her sprawling. 

            Even though Oksana did not stand on the podium this year nor hear her country’s anthem, she was a winner. Her example of determination and perseverance, in spite of, increasing age, a son’s illness, changes in her country, and living in a foreign country, inspired me. She continues to move forward and do her best because she loves the sport.

            Okasana displayed what it means to be a true Olympian. Her tenacity and persistence earned her a special place of respect and honor.


            When obstacles come, my body hurts, and memories of the past try to block the future, I will remember the forty-one year old athlete who didn’t give up.

Monday, August 8, 2016

Blessed by the Legacy



Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22: 6 NIV

            Volunteers, seated at high tables, ate fruit, potatoes and biscuits.  We waited to begin connecting with members and visitors coming to the early church service.

            One of the youngish pastors stood before the group and explained our duties. Before he prayed, he looked at me and asked, “Do you want me to embarrass you?”

            Before I could answer, he said, “This is Rebecca Carpenter, Chris Storms’ mom, who will be serving with us.”

            Smiles. Murmurs of welcome. Acknowledgment of my son surrounded me. Most of the volunteers in the room could have been my children. To them, I was probably just a random senior citizen until they learned about my son.

            Only one pastor and his wife in the room knew me from years earlier when I started attending the church. At that time, I was active in various activities and knew many people. Then Chris was known as my son.

            Over time, difficult situations, a longer drive to church and less energy caused me to not be as involved. I giggled to myself as Pastor Jeff introduced me as Chris’ mom.

            Because Chris, Anne and their daughters were important members of the church and involved in many activities, they are well known by many people. The role reversal is part of God’s plan. As the older generation steps back, the younger ones take over.

            How thankful and blessed I am to see the gradual transition. I am not yet ready to quit but look forward to new opportunities and ministries for myself. I will also watch Chris and his family grow in their ministries. What an awesome legacy.


Heavenly Father, thank you for children who extend the family legacy to their own children as they share about You. Amen

An Olympic Surprise



            Where was the referee? My eyes opened to see women in shorts running around a huge field and tackling each other.

            Earlier, the excitement of men’s volleyball and the Sunday paper couldn’t keep my eyes open. With my head on the couch, I decided to rest for a few minutes. In the background, I heard cheering and thought the US team was winning. But when I looked up, women had replaced the men on my television screen. My rest had turned into a nap.

            Never had I seen such blatant grabbing and throwing down in a soccer game. Players on the field even picked up the ball. For the Olympics I expected a higher quality of playing and referees who noticed the infractions.

            A close up of the ball confused me even more. The white object, shaped like a football, certainly wasn’t a soccer ball.


            Finally, my slightly confused mind realized I was not observing soccer but rugby. Even after watching and laughing at myself for a few minutes, I couldn’t figure out the rules of the game. It looked like a wrestling match on a football field. Surprisingly, no one appeared to be injured in the melee. The game ended with the US losing 5 to 0 but I had no idea how the opposing team scored points. What an Olympic surprise it was to wake up to such confusion.