a heart of thanks

Oh Lord, my heart overflows with gratitude today. You are good. You have been so good to us.

You quieted my heart today, Lord, and you reminded me you are wise. You are good. You are love. No, you are not only loving, but you are actually love. We love because you first loved us. (1 John 4)

My mom & I (and sweet patient Drew, for whom my heart is always grateful) watched an episode of a TV show called Parenthood today. A man who claims to be an atheist asked his son to help him pray. He bent his knees, talked to God, and took a leap of faith.

I am immensely thankful for the light of the Lord today. I am thankful for the Holy Spirit, moving in us, literally whispering in my heart the truths of God.

I do not deserve the faith I have. I do not deserve the comfort Christ and his sacrifice and his word bring. But through God’s grace, I am filled with this faith in God. Sure, it has felt stretched at time in the last six weeks. My dad’s sudden, unexpected death has brought anger, questions, and overwhelming sadness. The night my dad’s plane crashed, a few hours after receiving the news, I needed a paper bag to breathe into. I sat on the floor at the Carrigan’s house and could not catch my breath. My aunt, who had buried her son when he was just twenty-two months, talked me through the process of breathing when you do not want to breathe.

I still struggle to breathe sometimes. There have been days of late when I am alone, perhaps on the way to the office, and audible cries escape my lips. I am still so sad. I am still so sad for my mom, my brother, all those who loved my dad and needed him and brought him such joy. But through the process of trying to suck in some oxygen in those overwhelming moments, something tells me we’re alright. We are not alone. This life on Earth is temporary. This God we have that created our bodies and our cells and the stars, he loves us and nothing can separate us from that. (Romans 8:37-39)

I do not deserve the faith that I have. But I am so thankful, so grateful for it. I certainly did not put my faith in Christ just in case of bad times. God is not a bail bond, something you buy into when you need it. God is a foundation for the good times and the bad ones. But thank goodness I had my parents and YoungLife leaders and ministers and friends to push my faith over the decade.

I know some people out there struggling with faith. I know some people out there critical of Christ, of Christians, of believing in things unseen. Matthew 18:3 says we must have childlike faith. James 4:8 says draw near to God, and he’ll draw near to you. The more you pray or talk to God or worship in your car or sit and be quiet, the more God will draw near to you through all of those methods. Just try it. All God asks of us our faith – and everything that follows is a result of actively trusting Him.

When I sat in quiet today after a bike ride with Drew, alone for about 10 minutes, something jogged my memory about a trip with my parents in 2010. I remembered the day we hiked in Yellowstone National Park, just the two of us, while my mom waited for bears in a different part of the park. We saw buffalo, and beautiful views, and laughed as we always did when together on an adventure.

I realized today, echoing Jim Jackson’s words I posted earlier this week, that the time and adventures with my dad I was given was a HUGE gift. I’m undeserving- I know many wonderful people who never had that kind of friendship with their dad, or experienced the spontaneity and the love and the freedom that came from being around my dad. My heart, though sad, was filled with happy memories and rejoiced I was given such a chance.

I’ve tried in the last week or so to think what my dad would have done if he had lost his dad at my age. I know for certain he would have been devastated. I know how many times he called his dad for advice, to share a celebration or dilemma. And yet, I am confident, my dad would have continued living, likely with renewed fervor, and purpose, drive, and commitment to live fully. My dad would have packed in extra adventures knowing life is short. We must do the same.

While I can’t assure you we won’t continue to have our “let’s not get out of bed moments”, the Robinsons are trying their best to press on. We have two weddings coming up and tons of fun friends and family around us who will help us keep breathing and living and delighting in this life.

I am so proud of my dad, and so thankful for the chance to have called him dad. So thankful that I was one of the most important people on the planet to him. So thankful for God’s provision in this crazy time. So thankful for pictures and memories. And thankful for the legacy he’s left us all. Thankful for the love he had for my mom, always. Thankful for the example he was to my brother.

I cannot thank you enough for reading my words. The healing that has come from sharing our grief has been incredible already, though I’m sure the road ahead is long. Thank you, thank you.

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.

Edna St. Vincent Millay (quoted in A River Runs Through It)

what are we doing?

The minister at the church where I grew up, Chapelwood UMC, is amazing. Truly. If you don't know Jim Jackson, you should find a way to get to know him. You can sign up here:
http://www.jimsdailyawakenings.com/

Today's daily email from Jim definitely hit home - it's about a man dying young after spending his life doing incredible, interesting things. 

The Greek philosopher, Aristotle, was the boyhood tutor to Alexander the Great. One day Aristotle told Alexander he would have to make a choice between living a short but intensely interesting, productive life, or a long, boring life. Obviously, Alexander chose the former. He died at 33 after having conquered the known world.

If you had to choose between a long, boring life and a short, event-filled life, which would you opt for?

Real life is not measured by the number of our years, but by the difference we have made in the lives of others.

It's time to start asking, "Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing? What difference am I supposed to make?" Once you have the answers to these questions, get on with it.

My dad was far from perfect, and we certainly didn't call him "Tom the Great" like Alexander, and he won't be found in history books, but... I am thankful for the light he brought into our lives by really really really living his life. What a call to action his death brings for so many of us still on this Earth. 

As always, thanks for reading. -CAR

sometimes you just know

It is comforting for me to say aloud that I knew something had happened to my dad before anyone told me. At first glance that may seem dark, however, I feel connected to my dad and my family when I remind myself that my body, my mind, my heart, were uneasy before anyone had told me he died. It is comforting for me to think back to that horrible night, Saturday, September 8, and remind myself: I knew something was horribly wrong before anyone said it aloud. My soul and everything inside me must have loved my dad so much that it knew before my brain was certain: something. is. wrong.

My dad died in a single engine, one person plane accident in Kingsland, Texas, not far from my parent’s lake house in Marble Falls. My brother and I were in Houston and my mom was on the dock in Marble Falls with friends from work. My dad had gone to take a final “joyride” in his “little blue plane” – a very small two-seater that he bought in 2007. He had flown it with dozens of people on hundreds, maybe thousands of beautiful blue sky days. He had flown that plane cross country from Texas to Yellowstone Park and Missoula, Montana to meet up with me and my mom. And now, he was selling it, and wanted one last ride through the air.

Saturday morning I woke up early and went to College Station with Drew, my fiancé. ESPN Gameday was there – the morning was awesome. We took pictures on our phones and texted them to my parents, razzing my dad about the Big 12 and the Longhorn Network. We enjoyed the beautiful sunshine in College Station, and during the game, Drew and I both noticed an airplane circling the stadium. It was a small, single engine plane, and it hovered over Kyle Field more than I’ve ever seen most recreational flights during a game.

“Your dad would love to be up there right now,” Drew said. I didn’t know he had noticed the plane, too, until he said something. We both had our necks craned to the sky, not thinking about the football field but my dad.

“Yea, looks like fun. My dad would love to do that over DKR in Austin. Maybe he’ll fly me down here during a game sometime!”

I watched the plane for a few minutes more, as it slowly continued to circle, and thought about my wonderful dad.

A few hours later, around 6:00, we headed back to Houston with Drew’s family. After we dropped his mom off at her house, Drew and I pulled into Taco Cabana to grab some tacos to go, and planned to go paint at our house in the Heights. I called my mom as we walked in.

She told me that Gentry had a really bad day, horrible day at work she said. (he and I had been texting about football and I knew he was at work but sounded fine to me.) “He’s at the Carrigan’s and he’s REALLY upset – you know how he gets. I’m thinking about heading home. Amy sent me a text. Can you go over there and check things out for me?”

I wasn’t super nice, to say the least. “Mom, if he’s with the Carrigan’s, why should I go over there? I’m sure he doesn’t want me over there.”

“Just go. Call me when you get there, Peachie.”

I got off the phone and told Drew what she’d said. “I guess Gentry and Amy are fighting and she wants me to go over there to check on things.”

I did not want to say the words out loud, but the way my mom sounded upset, I was worried. Had Amy had called things off with Gentry…or at least threatened it? I didn’t want to say it out loud. My mom is normally much calmer than she sounded on that phone call.

As we got our tacos, we were about 5 miles down I-10 from the Carrigans, but I wasn’t convinced we should barge in over there. I called my mom.

“Mom, if Gentry and Amy are upset with each other, the Carrigans won’t want me there.”

“They want you there, Peachie, just go over there.” We got off the phone.

I looked at Drew. “I think the Carrigan’s are going to tell me that something happened to Popa. My mom doesn’t want to tell me on the phone.”

I rubbed my forehead and thought about it, and something about the way my mom said “I’m thinking about coming home” – she was at the lake with my dad. Why wouldn’t she say “we?” Maybe Dad did not want to leave Study Group behind. My parents were at the lake with a group of New York Life folks that were like a work family.

My heart started beating fast. It wasn’t logical, but I looked at Drew. “We have to go. I think maybe something happened to my dad.”

On the drive, I turned on the radio and tried not to think about it. I began to cry, and then I said “Let’s not let my imagination run away with me. Let’s talk about something else.”

Drew’s hand was on my back as I leaned forward in my seat, feeling silly for my paniced thoughts. My phone rang, and a family friend was calling to check on me. I answered and she said “WHAT IS GOING ON?” She sounded flustered.

“I don’t know, my mom just told me to go to the Carrigan’s. Don’t tell me anything, we’re almost there.”

A forced happy tone came over her voice. “Okay, baby, well, just call me later!”

Drew was driving too slowly. As he pulled into the Carrigan’s driveway, he asked where he should park. I threw open the passenger door. “Courtney!”

“Drew, I have to get out!!!”… I ran across their yard.

When I reached the door, I saw Richard Colquitt, wearing a suit, and his wife in the front room. Richard is a close family friend, an attorney turned minister, who provides wonderful counsel. My mom would trust Susan and Richard with anything, even something as terrible as telling me my dad was horribly hurt.

I knew right away, he wasn’t coming back.  

“No no no no no no no no no.” I cannot count the number of times I was yelling the word no. Richard told me to sit down, and I remember him pacing a bit. I perched on the edge of the couch, and Susan sat next to me.

“Is he coming back?”

“He’s not.” Her face spoke unspeakable sadness.

I don’t remember anything that was said for a while after that. I put my head in my hands and was screaming “no.” At some point Drew joined me on one side and I think Catherine Carrigan on the other. They were both crying.

I started taking deep breaths and asked to talk to my mom. “Where’s Gentry?” I whispered.  

I hadn’t seen Gentry in two weeks, because he’d been in Colorado and then only back in Houston for about 4 days. He had a fuzzy beard trying to grow over his face. His eyes were swollen from crying and he looked crushed. He sat on the couch next to me.

I cried into his chest for a while, then pulled away and half-smiled. “You need to shave. You look like a goat.” Laughter filled the room. I knew we would be alright. I did not how, and I did not understand the peace washing over me, but I knew we would be alright.

I talked to my mom on the phone a few times and someone, either her or Susan, filled me in that my dad had taken off in the little blue plane, and it had done a nosedive soon after. He did not suffer, he was not in pain, but he never regained consciousness.

My mom was going to be leaving the lake very soon with some study group people to drive her here. People began arriving at the Carrigan’s. My brother and I floated between shock and denial. Drew sobbed openly for a few minutes, and it helped me know this was real.

I called Stephanie, who happened to be in town from Fort Worth. “I’m really sorry to be weird, but I need you to come to the Carrigans as soon as you can.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Just please come over here.”

Telling people out loud was harder than finding out myself. Soon the McClellans were there to hug us, and Luke Allen, and the Stuckeys, and some of my brother’s good friends like Drew Eckardt and Ryan Simpson.

Mary Chenoweth and the Francis’ and later John came over. I kept telling myself: “They’ve done this. You can too. They’ve done this. You can too.”

When my aunt Nikki arrived and my cousins, I wanted to know where Mike was. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice. He’d always been there whenever I needed him and I definitely needed him now. When my eyes met Brigitte’s, my heart ached for my mom. How excruciating this already was feeling…

Everyone that showed up that night meant so much. The easy thing to do when someone is so hurt is to flee. The hard thing to do is be there. People struggle with the right words to say…but if there’s anything I’ve learned, there are no right words.

How awful and almost guilty I felt much of that night thinking that we had this so easy. We had walked this road when Jay died. When Jay died, I struggled with doubt and questions about faith and yada yada. But I stood in the Carrigan’s house that night, filled with peace and absolutely certain of where my dad was – Heaven. The hard part was that we were left here. “I want to elope…” one of my first thoughts, I’m pretty sure. I could not begin to think about dancing or walking down the aisle – how would anything ever be fun again without my dad there?

Wick Stuckey and Josef Klam both came by from our church, Chapelwood, where my parents have been active members for more than 15 years.

Wick asked for all at the house to pray with him before he left. Maybe 20, 25 people at this point grabbed hands and began pray. A few minutes in to the prayer, I could not continue to stand. I dropped to my knees and begged God for comfort, for peace. I thanked him immensely for his promises of Heaven. For years, I’d struggled to memorize verses and be diligent in bible study and, just as they say, the foundation was now ready for me to collapse into.

Most of me hates how fast time is passing since my dad’s unexpected death. It is as though we are rushing away, rushing from his presence, his memory, his voice, his smell, his advice, his presence, his laugh. I want to stay right there. I am sure my mind will change, but for now, I want to be as close as possible to the day people told me he won’t be coming back. Because that means we’re closer to the day he was alive, and breathing, and loving.

It seems completely unfathomable to me that my dad has been dead for four weeks. Seriously, how can that be possible? How can we have survived this long? How will we continue to move further and further from his presence? By grace. For it is by grace you have been saved, not by works. Ephesians 2:18

  

happy birthday, amy clare

If the every family in the world had an Amy Carrigan among them, I am convinced we’d reach world peace very soon.

My future sister-in-law (yep, my brother is getting married!!!) is amazing. I’m not sure amazing covers it. She’s turning twenty-three on October 9, but she has the wisdom of someone much older.

My brother has been smitten with Amy for years. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been hearing about Amy for decades. How many times have I heard: I miss Amy. I love Amy. I think I messed things up with Amy. Amy loves me. I love Amy. I miss Amy. Amy is wonderful. Blah blah blah blahty blah.

But then you realize that Amy-itis is contagious. Amy is one of those people that you just want to be around more and more. Amy brings joy and comfort wherever she goes – literally, wherever. If it’s a ski trip, a weekend in the hill country, a Young Life trip, a mission trip to Africa, a mundane work night in Houston, whatever. Amy is exudes gentleness, kindness, love, mercy, and grace.

My brother is at peace around Amy in a way he’s never been with anyone else. He can be frustrated, stressed, rowdy, silly and telling jokes,  and you give him enough alone time with Amy… you’ll find him curled up on top of a bed, snuggly and cuddly and whispering things to Amy. She has magical powers.

Gentry and Amy are a great fit for the other, a compliment to the others personality and needs. God has shown his capability to redeem others through their relationship. He has shown his ability to bring peace to all situations through Amy’s love for my brother. He has shown his ability to design us to find strength in our weakness through my brother’s vulnerability when around Amy. (Sorry, can’t think of a less cheesy word than vulnerability.) Their smiles when around the other are contagious. 

Amy delights in others so well – her family, her three sisters, my parents and even myself. Her friends and her nieces – Amy is loyal and caring always. Her ability to forgive others, including myself, baffles me. She defies worldly reasoning in arguments and always takes the high road.

My brother may have stopped reading at this point. He is surrounded by people who recognize Amy for what she is – amazing. He is told constantly how lucky and blessed he is to have her in his life. I’m sure at this point he’s thinking “she has faults, people!”

These I do not doubt. For Amy to be able to function in my family she often tunes Gentry and I out (ie while talking about books) and then we ask her a question (about a previously mentioned book) and she’ll say “Sorry, I stopped listening a while ago…”

Also, she can be a “pushover” - sometimes too patient or nice for her own good. For example, she recently let her niece sleep in her Halloween costume instead of PJs and stay up way past her bedtime. Her own children I’m sure will pull off all kinds of stunts.  

Regardless of minor faults, I am thankful for Amy Carrigan daily. And recently, through the unexpected death of my dad, I am thankful for her hourly. My brother would be much more of a wreck without Amy to walk through this with him. I am excited to see what the next twenty-three years hold for sweet Amy (probably lots of vacation time and double dates with me!!! She is undoubtedly thrilled…)

I know if God has already worked so much for his glory through her, I can’t fathom what’s next. The entire Robinson clan (and a Prochaska) is blessed to call Amy family, encouraged from being around her, and comforted by her patience.

We love you, Amy!

Happy, happy, happiest of birthdays!!