Calm in the Chaos

For the past week, I have been on a desperate search for the calm amidst the chaos that surrounds me.

We moved. Again.

Let me count...

Morristown to Texas
Texas to Athens
Athens to Signal Mountain
Signal Mountain to Hixson
Hixson to New Bern
New Bern to Havelock

6: the number of moves since 2010.

You'd think we would be pros by now. But we aren't. I even tried a super duper organizational packing system this time. But then when we got to the new house the boxes started opening themselves and exploding everywhere. I don't know what happened.

Anyways, we are glad to be here--a place that is, again, temporary--but one that we feel comfortable in and will probably stay in for a while.

After we took Jonathan to work yesterday, the boys and me went for ice cream. Andy had chocolate--obviously. 

I'm finding that the unpacking inside the house is going pretty slowly this time. But I have an explanation...

I haven't had a backyard like this ever. And I haven't had a trampoline since I was in high school. Most of my childhood happened on my trampoline, right mom?

The kids are fans. 

And if you're ever having a bad day, just remember this picture:

Sweet action, dude. 

Back to the unpacking...

O Love

Meditating on this song tonight--perhaps the most beautiful poetry I have ever heard.

O Love that will not let me go
I rest my weary soul in Thee
I give the back the life I owe
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer fuller be

O Light that fallest on my way
I yield my flickering torch to Thee
My heart restores its borrowed ray
That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter fairer be

O Joy that seekest me through pain
I cannot close my heart to Thee
I trace the rainbow through the rain
And feel the promise not in vain
That morn shall tearless be

O Cross that liftest up my head
I dare not ask to fly from Thee
I lay in dust life's glory dead
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be

O Love that will not let me go

Her Last Wish

A Final Tribute

Written and Spoken by Amanda Schoap on behalf of the Jewett grandchildren at the Celebration of Life service for Shirley Jewett on April 1, 2015.

"In preparing for this moment, I have felt a bit overwhelmed with being given only five minutes to express what our grandma's lifetime of care, service, and love has meant to me and to all of her grandchildren.

In speaking for all of the Jewett grandchildren, I venture to say that we have never known a more gentle love than that of our grandma.

A month ago when we were here for Grandpa's sudden homegoing, I had the distinct privilege of having many sweet conversations with grandma while caring for her at her bedside. As I look back, these conversations at the very end of her days--in her most distressing physical state--perhaps at a time when depression could be overwhelming--she displayed her heart--her personality--her spirit.

At her bedside, I told her that Barbara and Amanda were there to care for her and that we would meet any need that she had. She responded with, 'I know. You girls better go rest a while.' She was always concerned about getting enough rest--not only for herself but for those around her. Of the many skills that she taught me, napping is easily my favorite. :)

At that same bedside, she heard the kids in the living room and asked me, 'Is Dad awake yet? He will want to play with the kids. Can you ask him to cook dinner for everyone? I just don't think I can do it.' Her instinct--a way that she showed her love--was to provide a neat home for people to gather, a warm meal to satiate the soul, and an atmosphere of grace prevailing.

The Wednesday before grandpa's service in Morristown, grandma was very alert and very aware. I am confident that this was the first time that she truly understood that grandpa wasn't there to play with the kids and that he couldn't prepare dinner for everyone like he had so many times. She asked me for details--how it happened, where it happened, when it happened. She understood. I wiped a couple of tears from her cheeks and she drifted back to sleep--too exhausted from the fight to live to express real emotion. Through my own tears, I whispered, 'I'm just going to miss him so much. I already do and the hurt is overwhelming.' She whispered back, 'We will see him again in Heaven. He was ready. We both have been ready.'

I thought that I was there to serve and encourage her in any way that I could. She ended up comforting me more than I ever dreamed was possible. Comfort was her gift. Gentleness was her way. Tenderness was her heart. Service was her love.



What is most important to understand is the why of her life. Why did she love so deeply? Why did she care so tenderly? Why was she so self-sacrificial in her service?

The answer is found in her number one concern for her family--one of her very last requests--and the rock upon which her entire life was built and sustained. That answer is Jesus.

She recently asked all of her family members to send her written accounts of our own testimonies. She wanted to know, without a doubt, that a Jewett family reunion would take place in Heaven. Her faith was unwavering--steadfast.

When my little family visited grandma and grandpa in November, I turned my camera on 'record' and just let it run. She and I were sitting and chatting--nothing special. Unprompted, she started telling me what she thought and felt about the things that she sees going on in the world today, and how those things so closely align with what she reads in the Scriptures concerning the end of the Earth's time.

When I think about what all an 85-year-old has seen in her lifetime, I am intrigued and overwhelmed. The changes in technology, the changes in society, the changes in lifestyles--it amazes me. As I was listening to her talk on that chilly November day, I realized that she is right. I have never been one to be afraid of what is happening with the world. I always thought, 'No man knows the hour or the day--so why should I spend my time being afraid?' However, I also read in the Scriptures that 'He who walks with wise men will be wise.' In our grandma's wisdom of 85 years, she saw the very signs in front of her eyes that she has read about for so long in the Scriptures. That is nothing to be ignored or brushed off. Because of this, her heart was burdened for souls. And most especially the souls of her family--the loves of her life.

What she would want us most to dwell on here today is to make sure that we are all ready--that we will all see her again.

Her wish would be for us to understand that we don't come to Christ purely out of fear for the end times that, I believe we are now living in. But rather we come to Him because of His great love--because He loves us so much. We come to Him because He desires that we know Him and live alongside Him.

She wants us to know Jesus because no man comes to the Father but through Him. She wants us to know that we have value. We have worth. And we can have life and life more abundantly with Him.

I can confidently testify that for Grandma--for Grandpa--and for myself--that even through these heart-wrenching times that we left behind face in our loss, the physical suffering and emotional turmoil that our beloved grandparents faced recently--life never had been and never has been sweeter. Life has never been richer. Life has never been more fulfilling than a life walked hand in hand with Jesus. Even in the midst of pain, we can say, 'Why are you in despair, O my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him for the help of His presence. Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the Lord.'

What better way to close than with Grandma's own words. I found a note last night in Grandpa's office. It is a letter written by Grandma--her own words. These, I believe, are fitting last words to all of us, both family and friends. Written in her own handwriting and constructed from deep within her heart:

So Long For Now

The following is an excerpt from a letter that I wrote to my grandma last week and that my dear Aunt Missy read to her at her bedside on my behalf. I am sharing it here mainly to have it on my blog which I read rather occasionally to remember my own reflections. Perhaps some of my readers can relate to my sentiments. Sometimes in the midst of grief, it is most comforting for people to know that they aren't alone in their thoughts.

Grandma,

[. . .]

It's okay to go. It's okay to go see Jesus. To go see grandpa. To go see your parents and your siblings that have already gone on. You have grandchildren there waiting on you. Even one of my own is there and I know that sweet baby of mine that I've never gotten to hold is waiting for you to rock her and sing her our favorite lullabies. Love her for me, okay?

 Your absence here on earth is going to be staggering. I just don't know how I'm going to get through this. 

But that Jesus that you introduced me to so many years ago--that same Jesus that grandpa preached about every week--he promises me in his Word that He will never leave us or forsake us. I’m praying that you and I both will remember that and cling to it. He loves us both so much. I love you so much.

 My heart--my devotion--my love--it's yours.  

I'm praying for you so much throughout the days. 

If I could be there every second of every day holding your hand and taking care of you, please know that I would be--that I want to be doing that. I am having to trust the Lord that he has me here in this season of life right now for a reason--though I don't understand why. He has been teaching me that my prayers can be more effective than my physical presence there with you. Because HE is with you. You are his dear child.

 I promise to continue to pray.

 It's almost your turn, grandma. 

You are finally going to get to hear those sweet words, "Well done, thy good and faithful servant".

 You have been so faithful.

 Your life has blessed so many--but I am sure that it has blessed me the most. 

I am eternally grateful for you--what you stood for, what you believed, how you lived, and how you loved.

 I love you deeply.

 This isn't goodbye...it's just a "so long for now"... We WILL be together again, dear grandma. 

In the land where we'll never grow old.

How I long for that day.

"But until then, my heart will go on singing. Until then, with joy I'll carry on. Until the day my eyes behold that city, until the day God calls me home."

 I love you. So much.

 Your Amanda

Her Legacy

As my grandma is very weak and her homegoing seems to be approaching (as much as it even pains me to type that sentence), the Lord has been putting verses in front of me that give me the peace and comfort for which I have been pleading.

"O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth;
And I still declare Thy wondrous deeds.
And even when I am old and gray, O God do not forsake me,
Until I declare Thy strength to this generation,
Thy power to all who are to come.
For Thy righteousness, O God, reaches to the heavens,
Thou who has done great things;
O God, who is like Thee?
Thou who hast shown me many troubles and distresses,
Wilt revive me again,
And wilt bring me up again from the depths of the earth.
Mayest Thou increase my greatness,
And turn to comfort me."


I am so proud and encouraged and motivated by the life she has lived. She has faithfully declared His deeds, proclaimed His strength, lived through His power, and trusted in his revival during the dark struggle of Parkinson's disease. What a legacy and a foundation she has given to me--a true gift.

As we were having breakfast this morning, the kids were all in one place at the same time and being still so I decided it was a good time for a devotion. This is something I have never done regularly with them, but I want to start. Perhaps blogging about our family devotion times will help me stay accountable. This was my view (well, my partial view--isn't he cute?):

We have really had a hard time lately with obedience (well, and getting along with one another...and sharing...and anger...and complaining...and, well just ALL the things). Most of this falls on me because I haven't been as consistent as I need to be with discipline. Also, discipline isn't fun. It hurts my heart and makes my stomach upset. So I tend to just let things go. That would be precisely what has gotten us into this mess. So, after praying and talking, Jonathan and I have renewed our resolve with our parenting. Hence our devotion material this morning...

"Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.
And be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
Therefore, be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you, and gave Himself up for us [...]"
Ephesians 4: 31-32; 5:1-2

I want to be really careful to not be legalistic in our parenting and in the teaching/leading of our children. Legalism has been a huge stumbling block to me and so many that I know. So, why do we need to obey God? Why do we need to be careful to obey His words? This is what we read:

"Jesus answered and said to him, 'If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him; and We will come to him, and make Our abode with him.

He who does not love Me does not keep My words; and the word which you hear is not Mine, but the Father's who sent Me.'"

John 14:23-24

These verses go on to talk about "abiding" in further detail. The word "abide" is quite possible my most favorite word in the English language. It has such depth and profound meaning. It is my deepest desire that myself, my husband, and our children would truly understand what it means to abide in the Father, and that we would be able to experience the joy of the Father abiding in us.


I can't do this parenting thing alone. I've tried for about 5 and 1/2 years now, and what I described above as our current struggles--that's only the tip of the iceberg. There comes a time in all of our lives that we realize we have been struggling in vain in our own decrepit strength--and we realize we aren't practicing what we have claimed to believe. And we repent. And we pray. And we put one foot in front of the other trusting and knowing that He will never fail us. Our complete surrender in our helpless state pleases Him. "I can do all things through [and only through] Christ who strengthens me." Phil. 4:13

And as far as our parenting strategy...

"He gently leads those that have young."

Isaiah 40:11

Lead us, Lord.

Thankful,

Amanda

Ruminations

Life.
What is it?
These mobile hunks of clay meandering around--searching.
Searching for jobs...food...shelter...luxury...pleasure...meaning.
But what is it really?
Why does it matter?
How can it be that one moment, our clay bodies are mobile and the next, they are still and lifeless.
What do we do with that? Those of us that are left here?
We continue to dream about the body that used to walk and talk and live among us.
We literally see that body in our dreams.
But isn't it just a body?
There must be more than just a body.
We hear about the soul.
What is the soul really?
What is a person's spirit?

Personality...it's so unique.

Perhaps that's what we mourn the most. That we will never know another person who would respond to us the way that one person did...who would understand our inside jokes...who would have the same mannerisms...who would hold the same routines.

So what's left?
What is left with us after death?

Memories.

But don't memories fade?
Can't our mind conjure up falsehoods overtime?
How to keep memories pure?
Why can't I make a movie of what I see in my mind right this very instant so that I can ensure that it will never get diluted by the junk of this life that occupies more and more of my mindspace as each day passes?

Life...
It comes and it goes.
It ebbs and it flows.

Even with the belief of heaven...death isn't any easier to deal with. But I hear it should be.
But it's not.
Why is it not?
Does that negate my christian-ness?

I can only wrap my mind around what happens here on earth.
Heaven is just too much.
The after life is just too much.
What happens here after we lose a loved one?
What is it exactly that we are sad about?

Part of me clings to the body...the peaceful face I've known all my life, the familiar shadow and silhouette, the soothing sound of a voice. Those things can never be replicated.

That's all I know.

It's hard.

Sometimes when we've dreaded something happening for so long we create a monster in our minds that's much bigger than perhaps it should be.

I do that with death.

Hasn't life gone on since my dad left me here half-orphaned?

Haven't I continued to smile and laugh and play?

Haven't I still found joy in things both large and small?

The sun still rises. The sun still sets. With no regard to the presence or absence of my father.

A harsh reality.

A humbling truth.

This world isn't about me. Or my dad. Or any other beloved family member of mine--even if they are the very ones that hung the moon in my childhood sky.

Life is relentless. Time never gives us a break.

What are we going to do with it?

My soul can only whisper one word: abide.

DIY Adventure

A couple years ago, we bought a dining table and chairs from Amazon (rather cheaply, might I add). We lost a chair a year in. And two years in (now), the other three are wobbling slowly to their deaths.

I've had it in my mind to find solid wood chairs for a long time but hadn't acted on it--until now.

I had an amazing paycheck from my "job"--post to come about that soon. So I felt it an appropriate time to start my chair search.

Did I go to Ashley Furniture Megastore you ask? Heck no. Never again.

Try the Black Swan Flea Market in New Bern. It will change your life.

In the attic of this century-old home cram packed with the most beautiful furniture and antiques I've ever seen sat 4 old solid wood windsor chairs. For $15 a piece. I'll TAKE 'em!

As we were leaving, the owner asked us if we needed a table to go with our new chairs. Well, she ended up selling us a dining table--solid wood Ethan Allen--for $40. YES.

I have never worked with wood...never refinished anything...never really even sanded anything. So it really was anybody's guess how this would turn out.

Can't hurt to try though, right?

At Lowe's I got some sanding blocks, a foam brush, a quart of black flat paint, and a bucket of matte polyurethane.

I sanded until I got the effect I wanted.

I painted the legs black (again).

When they dried, I distressed them.

Then I poly'd the legs and the table--3 coats each.

Time to bring it inside and reassemble! Jonathan had some good help.

And here it is!

The legs turned out beautifully unique.

I'm in love.

I think I've turned into a DIY junkie.



Chairs are next! (Hint: I'm thinking Gumdrop Red and Aqua Blue)